The Poison Factory

by Oisin McGann

  A sign on the door read; ‘Cybercritters: Taste-Test Units’.

  The door stood ajar, and they gently pushed it open. The enormous, tiled room was full of metal shelves, and on every shelf were lines and lines of cuddly toys; everything from puppies to teddy bears, from kittens to rabbits. There were thousands of them. Many of them were eating out of tiny troughs, or drinking from glass tubes. Ever y now and again, one of the cybercritters would stop, squat and squeeze out a robo-pooh.

  ‘Never seen a robot that could pooh before,’ Gaz muttered. ‘These things must be testing all that weird food they make here. Suppose what goes in must come out, yeah?’

  ‘This place is totally twisted,’ Damo muttered, waving a finger around the side of his head. ‘I wanna split this scene. I’m getting really freaked out here.’

  ‘Not without Joey,’ Gaz replied.

  ‘I think this one was trying to escape,’ Hayley stroked the head of the robot she was carrying. ‘I can feel its sadness – I mean, just look at its aura! I want to bring him with us. I’m going to call him Squirt.’

  ‘What makes you think it’s, like … y’know, a boy?’ Damo sneered.

  Hayley showed him.

  ‘Oh,’ Damo raised his eyebrows. ‘I didn’t know they put those on robots.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Gaz, who thought the idea of having their own robot was quite cool, even if it would need to be toilet-trained. ‘But let’s go. I’m getting really worried about Joey now. These are weird people we’re dealing with here. Anybody who gives poison to cuddly toys just isn’t right in the head. God knows what they’re doing to poor Joey.’

  They left the room and continued on up the stairs, being careful not to make any noise. Just before they reached the top, Gaz waved at them to drop down, and then ducked his head below the level of the top step. The others crawled up beside him and lifted their heads carefully to see over the top. At the end of the corridor were the doors of the elevator that would take them to the third floor. But before they reached it, they would have to get past the door to the kitchen, which was on the left side of the corridor. They could hear things moving around inside, and pots and cutlery clattering.

  There were stainless steel cupboards and kitchen units against the walls of the corridor. Gaz got to his feet and darted to the nearest one, crouching down to hide behind the side of it. Damo scurried down to huddle beside him. Before Hayley could join them, somebody came out of the kitchen door, and the two boys squeezed back against the wall, desperately hoping they wouldn’t be spotted. They couldn’t see whoever it was, but it sounded like the person was wearing really high heels. Their footsteps were hard and sharp, and the person moved with small, short, quick steps.

  The boys glanced back at Hayley … and their gazes locked on her glowing pink face as they saw the terror in her eyes. Her head was raised just above the level of the stairs, and she was staring straight down the corridor. Her eyes were wide with horror.

  ‘What hhhhave we … ahuh, ahuh … got hhhere?’ a clicking voice demanded.

  The boys’ heads turned, and they found themselves looking into two huge, round, segmented eyes, set in a dark brown head topped with a pair of antennae and armed with heavy, pincer-like jaws. It was an enormous cockroach, and it was wearing a chef’s uniform, complete with tall white hat. The boys burst out into long, high-pitched screams.

  They tried to run, but the cockroach seized them with its clawed hands and dragged them into the kitchen. It was bustling with activity, the whole place filled with the giant insects. The smells told the two boys that this was no ordinary kitchen. Whatever they were cooking up here, it definitely wasn’t dinner.

  ‘Why are you putting ruddy rattlesnake venom in there, when I specifically told you to add two drops of ruddy cobra venom?’ a chef was snapping at one of the younger cooks. ‘Did you see me put any rattlesnake venom in there?’

  ‘No, Chef,’ the younger cockroach said, lowering his head in shame.

  ‘Then why did you do it?’

  ‘Don’t know, Chef.’

  ‘I catch you putting rattlesnake venom in that mix again, I’ll have you back on toilet bowl duty so fast, your ruddy feet won’t touch the ground, you got it?’ the head chef growled, his jaws clicking as he talked.

  ‘Yes, Chef.’

  The head chef moved on, sniffing the vapour from another pot, growling orders and insulting his cowering assistants.

  ‘Add some turpentine to this … and some more bleach. It smells like my mother’s feet. I like it!’

  Then he noticed the other chef come in with the two boys.

  ‘What you got there, Harold?’

  ‘Two little … ahuh, ahuh … spiiiies, I think, Albert,’ Harold replied.

  ‘Spies, eh?’ Albert leaned in close to study the trembling children. ‘Trying to steal our recipes, are you? There’s people who would pay a handsome price for my Lung Rotter Sauce, or my Stomach Bomb Stew. Who are you working for, eh? What’s your game?’

  ‘We’re not w…w…working for anybody!’ Gaz stammered. ‘We’re just looking for my little brother. He came in here looking for our f…f…football.’

  ‘So! The old lost football story!’ Albert’s jaws clicked aggressively. ‘If I had a cyanide tablet for every time I heard that old chestnut, I could retire early! Well, if you won’t talk, we’ll make you talk! Harold, bring me the Truth Scorpions.’

  Harold took a jar down from a shelf and unscrewed the top. Reaching into it, he drew two large scorpions out by their tails. He handed them to Albert.

  ‘One jab from this,’ Albert clicked at the two boys, brandishing one of the twitching animals, ‘and you’ll tell me anything I want to know.’

  ‘We’ll tell you anything anyway!’ Damo wailed. ‘You don’t need to use any flippin’ scorpions!’

  But the cockroach chef pulled the collar of his hoodie out and dropped the scorpion down the back of his neck. Damo howled, and then thrashed around. He stopped suddenly, and his head tilted slowly to one side.

  ‘Ow,’ he moaned, dreamily.

  ‘Hold this one, he’s wriggling like a ruddy maggot!’ Albert cried as Gaz fought to get away.

  Two other cockroaches grabbed him, and the second scorpion was dropped down the back of his t-shirt. He pulled frantically at the claws of his captors, but it was no good. He felt the scorpion crawling around on his back, and then something sharp dug into his shoulder, and the whole world went a fluffy pink. Gaz felt himself overcome with an urge to tell everybody what he was thinking.

  ‘Damo, I gotta tell ya, man,’ he burped. ‘I’m goin’ to wet myself if I don’t get to a bog soon.’

  ‘I know what you mean, dude,’ Damo replied in a slurred voice. ‘I’m havin’ a problem holdin’ it in meself. We need to get out of here, and find a john.’

  ‘Enough!’ Albert glared down at Gaz. ‘Talk! Spill your secrets!’

  Gaz tried to hold his breath, but it didn’t work.

  ‘I take Joey’s teddy bear to bed with me sometimes!’ he blurted out.

  ‘I play with my sister’s dolls!’ Damo shouted, helplessly.

  ‘I pretend my Action Man’s married to Hayley’s Barbie doll,’ Gaz sob bed. ‘I make them kiss!’

  Damo laughed and cried at the same time.

  ‘I love you, Gaz. You’re my best pal.’

  ‘You’re my best mate too,’ Gaz insisted. ‘You’ve always been my best mate.’

  ‘Stop this!’ Albert snapped. ‘Have you lost your minds? Stop this nonsense and confess your disgusting deeds!’

  ‘I used to pick used chewing gum off the ground and eat it,’ Damo whimpered.

  ‘That’s it!’ Albert roared, his jaws clicking furiously. ‘I’ve had enough of this! Harold, fetch down the big pot. We’re going to cook up some human casserole!’

  The boys were hauled over onto a counter, and held down while half a dozen cockroach chefs lifted a huge pot onto a nearby cooker. They took out some razor sharp knives and started to cut up s
ome carrots and potatoes. The Truth Scorpions’ venom was starting to wear off, and the fear began to set in again. Gaz and Damo screamed and struggled against their captors, but the giant insects were too strong.

  ‘Noooo!’ Damo shrieked, with tears in his eyes, as he was carried towards the big pot.

  Suddenly, the door to the corridor burst open, and a flood of robotic, cuddly toys surged into the room in a wave of fake fur. Hundreds of them spread out along the floor and clambered up onto the tables and counters.

  ‘SSSomebody’s ssssset the cybercritters loose!’ Harold squealed. ‘Catch them, quick!’

  This was easier said than done. Wherever the cockroaches stepped, their sharp, clawed feet got stuck in the backs of the cuddly robots. Free from the grip of their captors, Gaz and Damo watched, bemused, as the insect chefs scurried around, clumsily trying to round up the horde of soft toys. Some of the cybercritters were squirting out their dinners, and the floor quickly became slippery with the slick mess. Hayley appeared as if by magic beside the two boys, clutching Squirt in her arms.

  ‘Come on!’ she urged them. ‘Run for it!’

  They jumped down off the counter and waded through the furry tide to the door. Behind them, there came a screech of fury.

  ‘Yooouuu’re nnnot going anywhere!’ Harold snarled at them.

  The raging cockroach charged at them, but his clawed feet impaled a couple of mechanical rabbits, and then he skidded through a pool of robo-pooh and flipped onto his back. His feet flew into the air, throwing the unlucky bunnies far across the room.

  The three children belted out of the kitchen, and down the corridor. Gaz slapped the button to call the elevator. It pinged gently. Behind them, Albert clawed his way out of the kitchen through the mass of robotic toys. Glaring at the children, he snarled, and clattered towards them.

  ‘Come on! Come on!’ Damo was yelling at the elevator doors.

  There was another bell chime and the doors slid open. Gaz pushed the others in and punched the button to shut the doors again. They clamped closed just as Albert slammed into them with a frustrated roar.

  They all slumped against the walls, exhausted. Gaz pulled out the bottom of his t-shirt, and the Truth Scorpion dropped to the floor. He kicked it away from him. Damo was struggling to find his scorpion in his big, baggy tracksuit top.

  ‘Here, what are you doing?’ Hayley asked. ‘Let me help.’

  She reached up the back of the jumper and was pulling the scorpion out when it twisted in her hand and stung her. Her face went all rosy, and her eyes glazed over.

  ‘Aw, no,’ Gaz groaned.

  ‘Listen, I have to tell you this lads!’ Hayley exclaimed, grinning madly. ‘You’ve both been sending me Valentine cards for years!’

  ‘No I haven’t!’ Damo snorted a little too loudly, rolling his eyes. ‘Girls are so soppy.’

  ‘Yeah!’ Gaz spluttered. ‘She’s … she’s lost her mind or somethin’. I never sent any cards …’

  Both boys fell into an embarrassed silence, desperately hoping Hayley’s scorpion sting would wear off quickly.

  7

  Dying To Go

  The elevator took Gaz, Hayley and Damo up to the top floor. In the few seconds of peace, they each treated themselves to a sweet from the bag, as a reward for escaping from the cockroaches, and to help Hayley get over her embarrassing bout of honesty.

  ‘We’d better go easy on these,’ Gaz said, warily. ‘There’s not many left. We’ve got to have some for Molars.’

  When the doors slid open, they found themselves on a flat, open section of rooftop. Across from them was a door, marked ‘Management’. It was the only door they could see.

  ‘So where’s the security office?’ Damo moaned. ‘How do we find Joey?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Gaz sighed. ‘But I need to go for a pee right now, or I’m goin’ to burst.’

  ‘Me too,’ Damo agreed.

  They went up to the base of a chimney that jutted out from the roof, and unzipped their flies.

  ‘Bet I can get higher up than you can,’ Gaz said.

  ‘In your dreams, bud!’ Damo laughed.

  ‘Typical boys!’ Hayley muttered, disgusted.

  She turned away to look out over the rooftops. She needed to go too, but she decided to hold on until she found a proper toilet. When the boys were done, all three of them walked across to the door marked ‘Management’. Gaz knocked nervously, and a voice inside beckoned them in. They opened the door to find themselves faced with a small science lab, and a wall of monitors that showed lots of different views of the factory. A thin, angular man wearing a white coat sat with his back to them on a stool at the large desk. He was working with some test tubes. He swivelled to face them, his skinny legs folded at sharp angles. They recognised his exhausted-looking face immediately. It was Cornelius, the man they had met when they had first entered the factory.

  ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘You made it. Have you got the sweets?’

  The three children looked at each other, mystified. Gaz handed over the bag. Cornelius stood up and took it, hefting in his hand and looking inside.

  ‘My! We were hungry, weren’t we? Ahhh, nobody can resist the smell of my jellies. One of my best inventions,’ he chuckled. ‘Been doing any burping, lately?’

  Hayley couldn’t contain herself any longer.

  ‘Can I use your loo?’ she asked, biting her thumbnail.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Gaz demanded.

  ‘You’ve just joined my little club,’ Cornelius waved his hand towards the monitors. ‘Let me introduce myself fully; my name is Cornelius … Cornelius Byle. I own this factory.’

  ‘Then you are one twisted biscuit,’ Damo blurted out at him.

  ‘Where’s your loo?’ Hayley bounced up and down on the balls of her feet, her hands clutching Squirt a little too tightly.

  ‘I may be one twisted biscuit,’ Byle smiled. ‘But tomorrow, I will still be a twisted biscuit … and you will all be dead. You’ve each had more than enough of these sweets to make sure that you are well and truly doomed.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ the three of them all chimed at once.

  ‘The sweets were poisoned,’ Byle grinned. ‘In a matter of hours, you will all shrivel up like raisins and die.’

  The three children went deathly pale.

  ‘Fortunately,’ he raised one finger. ‘I have an antidote–’

  He held up his hands as the children started shouting. They fell silent.

  ‘To get the antidote for yourselves,’ he went on. ‘You have to do something for me. I want you to bring all your friends to this factory. My zombies are constantly falling apart, which means I’m always having to make new ones. It’s a complex chemical process, and I don’t get many volunteers. A dozen or so of your friends would do.’

  ‘You’re off your head,’ Gaz gasped.

  ‘Not at all,’ Byle shook his head. ‘It’s just business. I have a company to run, and it’s so hard to get good staff these days. Bring back some of your friends so I can make them into zombies, and you three will get your antidote.’

  ‘I NEED TO GO TO THE LOO RIGHT NOW!’ Hayley shrieked, her legs crossed.

  ‘Oh,’ Byle frowned. ‘The bathroom’s that door to your left.’

  Hayley rushed over to the door, and yanked it open, hurrying inside. She closed the door, and the boys looked awkwardly at each other. They weren’t sure what to do.

  ‘Well?’ Byle asked. ‘Do you want the antidote or not?’

  ‘We need to wait for Hayley,’ Gaz gulped.

  He really didn’t want to see his friends turned into zombies. But he didn’t want to shrivel up and die like a raisin either. They all stood quietly for a couple of minutes, the boys turning to gaze at all the lab equipment that filled the room.

  The door opened and Hayley came out.

  ‘It’s really posh in there,’ she said. ‘There’s gold taps and everything.’

  ‘You didn’t flush,’ Byle said, sourly.


  ‘Sorry,’ Hayley muttered.

  She went back inside, and there came the sound of the toilet flushing … And then a mighty explosion rocked the room – smoke and flames burst from the bathroom and the plaster was shaken from the walls as they were all knocked off their feet. Hayley staggered out, her hands over her ears. Squirt waddled out after her and fell over, dazed.

  ‘I just flushed the toilet,’ she said in a shocked, timid voice. ‘And it blew up.’

  The boys were stunned. Byle got slowly to his feet, one hand on his head as he tried to keep his balance.

  ‘What …’ he started to say, but had to stop as he got dizzy. He tried again. ‘What else have you eaten today? Tell me what you did in the factory. I need to know everything!’

  The children looked at each other, but since they were all going to die like raisins, it didn’t make any difference anyway. Gaz told Byle everything – about being chased by the zombies, about riding the conveyor belt over the tanks of weird stuff, about meeting the Disgustinger and setting the cybercritters free, and about escaping from the cockroach chefs.

  ‘So let me get this straight,’ Byle strode over to a white board on the wall, and started writing strange chemical symbols on it. ‘You let your skin get soaked by the zombie disinfectant, you inhaled the Disgustinger’s breath freshener, you were injected with the venom of Truth Scorpions, and you ate my sweets?’

  ‘Yeah,’ all three kids said at once.

  Byle finished writing out his calculations, and stood back, his hands shaking. He turned to glare at them, his loosely-rooted teeth rattling in his skull.

  ‘That’s an impossible combination of chemicals,’ he whispered, trembling. ‘You should be dead. But since you’re not dead, and since my toilet just blew up, I can come to only one conclusion. You are all filled to the brim with highly explosive urine.’

  ‘What d’ya mean?’ Damo asked.