Danger in the Deep Dark Woods

by Jennifer Gray

  ‘Thanks for helping the hens,’ Pond nodded to the other waterfowl.

  Amy realised she must have been dunked by one of the ducks or geese. It was their rough feathers she had felt rubbing the gunk out of her eyes.

  ‘Now go home,’ Pond said. ‘The show’s over.’

  The waterfowl swam back to the little house on the island, honking and quacking.

  Boo gave a deep sigh. ‘I really don’t think I’m cut out for this,’ she said in a weak voice.

  ‘Me neither,’ Ruth croaked.

  Amy said nothing. As long as Pond was on the scene, she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to squawk them round.

  Down in a burrow in the Deep Dark Woods, Thaddeus E. Fox drew back his chair and stood up. It was time to address the meeting.

  He banged his silver cane on the table.

  ‘Friends,’ he said. ‘Welcome to this emergency session of the MOST WANTED Club.’ He surveyed the group. Tiny Tony Tiddles was clutching an ice pack to his head. Kebab Claude kept looking nervously about as if he was being followed. So did the Pigeon-Poo Gang. Thaddeus E. Fox narrowed his cunning yellow eyes. His fellow villains were spooked. It was time to take charge of the situation before they panicked completely.

  ‘There are three items on the agenda again today.’ Thaddeus E. Fox handed round some bits of paper.

  He waited patiently while everyone read it. ‘Let’s start with item three.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Tiny Tony: describe exactly what happened last Sunday. I want every last detail.’

  Tiny Tony Tiddles went through the events leading up to when he received his knockout blow.

  ‘I’m assuming the chickens were the same as the ones at the Dudley Manor Country Fair,’ Thaddeus E. Fox remarked. ‘Only this time, they had help.’ He threw down a drawing of James Pond. ‘Is this the duck?’

  ‘That’s him all right,’ Tony Tiddles snarled. ‘What I wanna know is what you’re gonna do about it, Fox, seeing as it’s your fault Rooster hired these guys in the first place.’

  Thaddeus E. Fox eyed Tiny Tony with dislike. He didn’t like being challenged by a fellow villain. He felt tempted to bash the cat over the head with his silver cane, use his whiskers to make a nailbrush and ask Kebab Claude to barbecue him. But Tiny Tony had the respect of the other members of the MOST WANTED Club. He would have to be careful.

  ‘I’m going to get rid of him,’ Thaddeus E. Fox said blandly. He cleared his throat. ‘However, as I’m sure you’re aware, the first rule of warfare is to know your enemies. Ours are Rooster, the duck and the three chickens.’ He placed pictures of Boo, Ruth and Amy on to the table beside Pond’s. ‘It has come to my knowledge that Rooster’s intention was to create an elite team of chicken warriors under the tutelage of the great Shigong Egg,’ Thaddeus E. Fox explained. ‘They trained at the International School of Kung Fu for Poultry in Tibet.’ His face twisted into a malicious grin. ‘Nice idea,’ he smirked, ‘except it didn’t work.’

  ‘That’s easy for you to say!’ Kebab Claude growled. ‘You didn’t get blasted with mites.’ He was still itching.

  Thaddeus E. Fox didn’t reply directly. ‘Look at what happened after they whacked you with that mite blaster.’ He placed two photographs on the table. ‘The weasels took them,’ he explained.

  The first was a close-up of the Month 4 chicks holding the mite blaster; the second of Boo, Ruth and Amy smothered in mite bites. ‘They got blasted by a four-month-old chick, who they were supposed to be rescuing.’

  ‘Serves zem right,’ Kebab Claude growled.

  ‘My guess is that’s why Rooster hired the duck: to help his chicken squad out of a hole,’ Thaddeus E. Fox went on. ‘The duck’s name is Pond: James Pond. He’s from Poultry Patrol. It’s him we need to watch out for. Without him the chickens are no threat to us’ – he doffed his top hat towards the Pigeon-Poo Gang – ‘as our friends proved on Sunday. Good work, boys.’

  ‘Thank coo,’ the Pigeon-Poo Gang bobbed their heads in acknowledgement.

  Thaddeus E. Fox smoothed his whiskers. ‘Rooster thinks he can outsmart us,’ he said. ‘But without Pond, he’s got nothing.’

  ‘Brilliant, Sherlock!’ Tiny Tony spat sarcastically. ‘But like I said, the question is what are you gonna to do about it?’

  ‘I’ll fix Pond,’ Thaddeus E. Fox said quietly.

  ‘How?’ Tiddles snorted. ‘Seems like he’s got all the aces up those wings of his.’

  ‘I said I’ll fix him,’ Thaddeus E. Fox hissed. It was time to show the MOST WANTED Club who was boss. ‘And if you don’t believe me, I’ll fix you too.’

  Tony Tiddles fell silent.

  ‘And ze chickens?’ Kebab Claude demanded.

  Thaddeus E. Fox laughed. ‘Chickens?’ he sneered. ‘Have you seen what I do to chickens? Those three jokers wouldn’t last ten seconds with me. Not even five if I’m in a bad mood. I might pluck them before I eat them just to make it more fun. Or pull their entrails out and make sausages with them.’

  ‘Or kebabs,’ Kebab Claude suggested.

  ‘Indeed!’ Thaddeus swept the pictures of Pond and the chickens into the bin. ‘Consider it done, gentlemen. Our enemies will be eliminated. You have my word.’ He paused. ‘And once they’re out of the way, we shall return to items one and two on the agenda.’ He threw back his head and laughed. ‘Phwa ha ha ha ha. I believe, gentlemen, it is my turn to hatch an evil plan. And this time I guarantee it will not fail. Now, can anyone tell me where to find the Bird Broadcasting Company?’

  The next morning Amy was woken up by the sound of the computer. She listened closely. It wasn’t Professor Rooster who was speaking, it was a low growly voice she didn’t recognise. Amy groaned. It was probably one of James Pond’s rotten holiday programmes. She closed her eyes, snuggled down in the straw bed beside Boo and Ruth and tried to go back to sleep.

  A few minutes later she heard a loud bang. It sounded like the door of the potting shed swinging closed. Her first thought was panic: what if the MOST WANTED villains had discovered their hideout? What if Fox had come to kill them? She waited, her heart pounding. Nothing happened. After a few minutes she decided to investigate. Boo and Ruth were still sleeping. Amy wriggled quietly out of bed and slid off the straw so as not to disturb them. She looked around the potting shed. There was no sign of Pond.James Pond normally slept in a pile of leaves next to the gadget cupboard, but he wasn’t there. And he wasn’t beside the computer either, even though the TV channel was still playing. Where had he gone? Amy swallowed. Had Thaddeus E. Fox and his cronies eaten him? There was no trace of any feathers. James Pond had simply vanished.

  Cautiously she tiptoed to the potting-shed door and pushed it open. She was almost relieved to see James Pond standing outside on the garden path doing some limbering up exercises. He looked as if he was preparing to take off.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Amy asked. ‘Is there another mission?’

  ‘No,’ James Pond said. ‘I’m leaving.’

  ‘Leaving?’ Amy squawked. It was too good to be true. ‘Why? Did the professor fire you?’

  ‘No,’ James Pond snapped. ‘I’m migrating south for the winter. The Caribbean probably.’ He flapped his wings energetically.

  ‘But it’s the summer!’ Amy felt confused. She squinted at the blue sky. The sun was shining. It was a beautiful day. ‘It’s months until winter. We’ve got autumn still to go.’

  ‘I just checked the weather forecast on the BBC,’ Pond quacked. ‘Winter’s coming early this year. Blizzards by Thursday, that’s what it said.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Amy said doubtfully. ‘It’s only July.’

  ‘Of course, I’m sure,’ Pond said. ‘The BBC’s always right with the weather forecast.’

  ‘Have you told Professor Rooster?’ Amy asked.

  ‘No, I don’t have time. I need to start flying. You tell him.’ James Pond did a few knee bends. ‘He can always get another agent from Poultry Patrol to help out you hens, if that’s what you’re worried about.’r />
  Amy didn’t reply. She hardly heard him. She was thinking about the weather forecast. Something weird was going on.

  ‘See you around.’ James Pond started his lopsided run, his wings beating up and down. Very soon he was in the air. Amy watched him as he disappeared over the garden wall, then she ran back into the potting sheds.

  ‘Boo! Ruth! Wake up!’

  Boo and Ruth emerged yawning from the straw.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Ruth asked.

  ‘Is it Professor Rooster?’ Boo said, stretching. ‘Has he got another mission for us?’

  ‘No,’ Amy flapped. ‘It’s Pond. He’s gone!’

  Boo and Ruth looked at her in astonishment. ‘Gone?’ they chorused.

  ‘He thinks it’s going to snow!’ Amy quickly repeated what Pond had told her about the weather forecast. ‘He’s migrating south for the winter.’

  ‘But it’s only July!’ Boo said.

  ‘That’s exactly what I said,’ Amy told her. ‘He said he’d seen it on the BBC.’

  Ruth’s glasses wiggled. ‘Blizzards in summer? That can’t be right. Not in the northern hemisphere anyway. Let’s check the forecast.’

  The chickens hurried over to the computer. The BBC weather forecast was still showing on the screen. A giant chicken stood in front of a world map, holding a silver-tipped cane. ‘As I was saying,’ it growled, ‘winter is coming early this year thanks to this cold front from Siberia.’ It used the cane to point to a swirly mass of cloud edging towards the UK. ‘There will definitely be blizzards by Thursday and they won’t be going anywhere until at least April next year.’ The giant chicken looked straight at the camera. ‘So, if you’re a duck, and you haven’t left already, I recommend you head south immediately. I repeat, IMMEDIATELY.’ Its yellow eyes glinted. ‘The Caribbean is particularly pleasant at this time of year.’

  ‘There’s something funny about that chicken,’ Amy said. ‘Did you see its eyes?’

  ‘And its teeth?’ Boo shuddered.

  Ruth adjusted her glasses. ‘It’s not a chicken,’ she said shortly. ‘Look.’

  Amy watched breathlessly as Ruth tapped away on some keys. The pictures of the MOST WANTED Club scrolled across the screen.

  ‘There.’

  Amy found herself staring at the pictures of Thaddeus E. Fox, the only one of Professor Rooster’s cast of villains they hadn’t encountered yet. Thaddeus E. Fox in top hat and tails carrying a decapitated chicken. Thaddeus E. Fox by a pond full of dead ducks. Thaddeus E. Fox at a posh picnic.

  ‘See?’ Ruth said. ‘The cane: it’s in all of them.’

  Amy drew in her breath sharply. Ruth was right. In every single one of the pictures the MOST WANTED criminal of all was clutching a silver-topped cane.

  ‘And the teeth,’ Amy whispered, ‘they’re definitely his.’

  ‘And the eyes,’ Boo shivered.

  ‘Tiny Tony Tiddles must have tipped him off about Pond,’ Ruth said. ‘And he worked out a way to get rid of him without risking his own foxy fur by pretending to be a BBC weather forecaster and telling Pond winter was coming early. That can only mean one thing …’ Her voice trailed off.

  ‘He’s planning another chicken raid on the coops,’ Amy whispered.

  There was silence for moment.

  ‘So what shall we do?’ Boo asked eventually. ‘I mean, with Pond gone, I guess it’s up to us now.’

  The chickens glanced at one another.

  ‘I’m in,’ said Amy.

  ‘Me too,’ Ruth said.

  ‘Boo?’ Amy waited. ‘Will you do it? You’re not a scaredy-hen by the way: Pond’s an idiot.’

  ‘Okay,’ Boo agreed. ‘I’ll try.’

  Amy couldn’t help grinning. She knew her friends wouldn’t let her down. Then her face became serious. It was too late to send for another agent from Poultry Patrol. Professor Rooster would have to trust them. And this was their chance to prove to him that he could. ‘Let’s contact Professor Rooster,’ she said in a determined voice. ‘Now!’

  Thaddeus E. Fox stepped out of his chicken suit. He picked up his cane, collected his top hat and waistcoat and made his way towards the door of the Bird Broadcasting Corporation building.

  The BBC headquarters was in a disused barn on an organic farm about ten miles away from the Dudley Estate. It had been easy enough to find. The Pigeon-Poo Gang had forced the information out of other birds in the Deep Dark Woods by threatening to sludge them to death.

  ‘You can release the prisoners now,’ Thaddeus E. Fox said.

  The Pigeon-Poo Gang hopped out of the shadows. They opened the hayloft. Terrified birds of different varieties tumbled out.

  ‘Do you want to kill them, Boss?’ The leader of the pigeons asked.

  Thaddeus E. Fox shook his head. ‘No.’ Part of the fun of being the most evil villain known to poultry was to keep your enemies guessing. That way, you stayed one paw ahead of them. Professor Rooster would soon find out that Pond had disappeared, if he didn’t know already. And that it was he, Thaddeus E. Fox, who had tricked the brilliant duck agent. Rooster would be expecting blood on the straw of the BBC after what had happened to his family. And what happened to his family served Rooster right for crowing to the humans in the first place.

  Thaddeus E. Fox smiled. Rooster would be in for a surprise when he discovered all the BBC workers were safe and well. And that would make him nervous. He would know that Thaddeus E. Fox had something TRULY HORRIBLE in mind.

  ‘Leave the prisoners tied up,’ he snarled. ‘Let’s go.’ No doubt the rest of the Professor’s so-called elite combat squad would be on their way soon. Thaddeus E. Fox sneered at the thought. Let the chickens come. He couldn’t care less about them. He had other plans.

  The Pigeon-Poo Gang shuffled out of the barn doors and flew away.

  Thaddeus E. Fox made his way stealthily across the field. Then he sped back across country to the Dudley Estate.

  Tony Tiddles met him at the edge of the Deep Dark Woods.

  ‘Pond’s on his way to the Caribbean,’ Tiddles reported. ‘We saw him flying over Dudley Manor, heading south. My guess is he won’t be coming back till spring.’

  ‘Excellent.’ Thaddeus E. Fox smiled. ‘Let’s get back to the burrow. It’s time to return to items one and two on the agenda.’

  The other villains were waiting for them.

  ‘I’ll be with you in a moment.’ Thaddeus E. Fox went to the larder. It was hungry work running twenty miles across country. He was beginning to regret his generosity towards the BBC workers. He should have eaten a few when he had the chance. Consoling himself with the thought of some nice juicy chicken, he helped himself to half a dozen dried mice and an apple and gulped them down hungrily. Then he returned to the table, unrolled a map and placed stones on the corners.

  The villains pored over it.

  ‘Observe.’ Thaddeus E. Fox pointed with his cane. ‘Over here are the Dudley Manor chicken pens.’ He traced a path with the cane across the map to a different spot. ‘And over here, on the edge of the Deep Dark Woods, is Eat’em College for Gentlemen Foxes: the greatest school in Britain.’ He placed the cane on the table and folded his arms. The villains waited.

  ‘You won’t be surprised to learn that Eat’em College is my old school,’ Thaddeus E. Fox boasted. ‘It taught me everything I know. Latin, Greek, a love of poetry, how to dress like a gentleman, how to boss other villains around, how to play Foxington Football …’ He sighed. ‘Good times.’

  ‘Why don’t you just get to the point?’ Tiny Tony Tiddles grumbled.

  ‘I’m about to,’ Thaddeus E. Fox gave him a cold look. ‘And it’s this. Every year on the last Saturday in July, one of the college’s old boys organises an Eat’em reunion dinner.’

  ‘That’s tomorrow,’ Kebab Claude exclaimed.

  ‘Quite,’ Thaddeus E. Fox continued. ‘This year it’s my turn, and I thought we could invite our friends, the pupils of Dudley Coop Academy and their dear parents and hard-working teachers
to join us for the evening.’ His eyes gleamed.

  ‘Zey’ll never come!’ Kebab Claude protested.

  ‘Oh yes, they will,’ Thaddeus E. Fox said. ‘They’re chickens. They’re stupid, apart from Rooster. They’re trusting. They’re dumb. They’re greedy. And I have the perfect plan to lure them there. All we have to do is make a hole in the humans’ fortifications and let the chickens do the rest. That way we get the whole lot of them: enough to feed us all. I promise you, they won’t suspect a thing.’

  ‘What about Rooster?’ Tiny Tony Tiddles demanded. ‘Won’t he tip them off?’

  ‘All his spies here in the Deep Dark Woods have had their beaks glued,’ Thaddeus E. Fox said, ‘by our pigeon friends. By the time he finds out his flock’s flown the coop, it’ll be too late.’

  ‘And the chicken squad?’ Tiny Tony still wasn’t satisfied.

  Thaddeus E. Fox licked his lips. ‘Even if his chicken squad shows up, there’s only one place for it. And that’s on the menu with the rest of them. We’ll pluck them, roast them and serve them up with lumpy custard – another wonderful Eat’em College tradition! Now, who’s with me?’

  ‘Me,’ Kebab Clauded nodded. ‘Except for ze lumpy custard.’

  ‘Sure,’ Tiny Tony relaxed. ‘I take my chicken southern fried with sweetcorn and mayonnaise.’

  ‘What’s in it for us?’ The leader of the Pigeon-Poo Gang asked.

  ‘There’s semolina for pudding,’ Thaddeus E. Fox told him promptly.

  ‘Coo! Coo! Coo!’ The pigeons fluttered excitedly.

  ‘That’s settled then. Thank you, gentlemen. You can leave the rest to me.’ Thaddeus E. Fox closed the meeting and showed the villains to the door of the burrow. ‘See you tomorrow evening at the banquet …’ He laughed. ‘Phwa ha ha ha ha … for murder most fowl.’