by Ian Whybrow
“How very strange!” said the woman in a shocked whisper. “Feedback, I suppose…”
Her husband wasn’t paying attention though. He had stooped and picked something up. “Do you know, sweetheart,” he said, “some of these things scattered around look just like Charlie’s! This flashlight, for example.” He explored a little further and picked up something else. “And look here! Here’s a glass marble. Charlie had a little collection in a matchbox, remember? And here’s a picture book and an opened packet of jelly beans! Well I never! This is exactly like the stuff we packed in Charlie’s suitcase.”
“Yes, but darling, the suitcase fell off the roof of the Jeep somewhere miles from here. You remember? When we got caught in that sandstorm on our way back to camp and got completely lost?”
“Daddy! Look over here!” wailed Charlie, pointing down the other side of the sand dune he was standing on top of. “Somebody broke my elephant case!” And he burst into tears.
“Oh, don’t cry on your birthday, Charlie! We’ll get you another suitcase to keep your things in,” soothed his mother.
The presenter was bending over something else he had discovered. “Well, now this is just incredible! Look what I’ve just found. It’s the remains of the SPEKE-TO-ME eagle owl toy we bought Charlie as a birthday present! It’s been ripped to shreds. What a pity! After all the trouble we took to record a heartbeat and a birthday message! Here’s the speaker, look—and the batteries. I’m afraid one of the meerkats must have thought it was the real thing and attacked it!”
“That’s not surprising when you remember that the eagle owl is one of the meerkat’s most successful predators,” his wife reminded him.
“What is surprising is that all Charlie’s belongings have turned up here!”
Charlie looked blankly at the mess and his sobs turned to a sniffle. Something had caught his attention. Flying from a stick planted on a little heap of sand was the ragged piece of soft, colored cloth. Once it had been Mimi’s dress and now it was a battle flag.
Charlie’s round, angry face lit up at last. His mouth stretched into a proper birthday smile. “MY NOO-NOO!” he beamed, and snatched it into his arms.
He scrunched his long-lost blanket softly against his cheek, sat down, and closed his eyes. Bliss!
His mommy and daddy came and sat down beside him. They looked at each other and smiled. “I think that’s probably the best birthday present you’ve ever had, isn’t it, Charlie?” the woman said. Their little boy nodded, his eyes still tight shut with happiness.
Meanwhile, his dad had noticed that one of the meerkats was stretched out on the battlefield. It lay quite still. “What a shame!” he said to himself. “I hope he’s not too badly hurt.” Quietly, he made his way toward it.
When the man was just a step away, Uncle Fearless began to stir. His whiskers twitched, he blinked, and he rolled onto his side.
“Hush!” whispered the presenter, placing his finger to his lips to warn the others. “This poor
old meerkat must have been knocked cold. I think he’s just beginning to come around.” He lifted his camera to his eye and looked through the viewfinder at the dazed creature. “I’d like to get some close-ups. Don’t make any sudden moves now or you’ll frighten him.”
Charlie stayed where he was and his mother knelt down in the sand beside him.
“Well, I’m blessed!” exclaimed the presenter softly. “This is quite astonishing! All this time I thought we’d lost the dear old boy—and here he is!” He signaled to his wife to bring the boy over to look. “This is His Majesty!” he whispered. He was obviously very moved. “The star of Meerkats on the Move! He’s definitely the dominant male we spent such a long time filming for our last series. He’s still wearing the radio collar I put on him, can you see?”
Tenderly he slid his hand under the cheek of the dazed little creature. What he saw clearly upset him. “Oh dear, the poor old fellow’s face has been horribly injured, look. Can you see? He’s lost one of his eyes. It looks like an old injury. He really has been through the war, poor fellow. I do hope he’s not going to slip away just when we’ve found him again.”
“Are you sure that’s His Majesty?” whispered his wife.
“I’m certain. I recognize him from the pattern of patches on his back. Come over here, Nick. Bring the camera, nice and steady. Jack, bring the microphone closer.” Gently he stroked Fearless’s cheek with his finger. “Come on, old soldier. See if you can get up on your feet. It’s me. Don’t you remember me?” He made a click-click sound with his tongue. That did it! The meerkat twitched. All his senses jerked into action. He whipped his head around and opened his good eye.
“Blah-blahs!” said Fearless to himself. He saw how they bowed down to him and hid their faces behind their eye-protecting boxes. “And I’d know that call anywhere!” He gazed up at the presenter. “Well, well! If it isn’t my old friend and helper, the Chief of the Click-clicks!”
“Thank goodness!” exclaimed the presenter, as softly as he could when he was so excited. “He’s coming around and I think he knows me! He doesn’t seem at all afraid.”
Uncle pulled himself to his full height and gave himself a shake. He turned and caught the scent of the pups in their hiding places and called for them to follow. Boldly and steadily, Uncle began to climb the leg of the presenter. The eyes of the wife and the child grew wide with wonder. They both stood up to watch.
“Di-deet!” called Uncle, and Skeema and Mimi threw caution to the wind and came dashing along to do as he instructed. While Uncle clambered right up on top of the Blah-blah’s head, the pups chose a slightly lower perch on his shoulders.
“It’s all true!” said Mimi, excitedly. “You really can get the Blah-blahs to obey you!”
“I always knew it was true about your Glory Days,” said Skeema. “Anyone can see you’re a real king and not just a pretend, secret one. And isn’t it a wonderful view from up here, Dreamie?” He looked down for his brother but for a moment he couldn’t see him.
Suddenly there was a cry of delight from the little boy. “Mommy! Mommy! Look what the littlest meerkat’s doing! He’s climbing up onto my head!” Charlie wasn’t at all afraid. “Hello, little meerkat!” he whispered, and reached up to give his tummy a tickle.
His mother’s face lit up with a broad smile and all the meerkats had to hold tight as their human look-out posts shook with laughter.
“I love Far Burrow,” cried Little Dream with a delighted laugh, as everyone curled up together in a freshly dug chamber, safe and cool in the darktime. “Is it ours now?”
“Well we won it, didn’t we?” chuckled Uncle. “By hook and by crook, what-what!”
“And you can be King of the Sharpeyes again as well as King of the Blah-blahs!” said Skeema.
“Um, yes—well—look here!” said Uncle. “I for one should be delighted to start again, with my own little tribe. In which case, I really think we need to give ourselves a new name. Has anyone got any suggestions?”
Little Dream did have a suggestion, and a very good one.
And as the shepherd trees began to throw cool shadows across the entrance to their beautiful new burrow, a delighted little crowd of Click-clicks was huddled happily together around a computer. They were enjoying the first screening of a scene that would soon be shown all around the world. In it, a famous presenter was telling the viewers, with pride and delight, that his wife and little boy were privileged to be the very first look-out posts of a brand-new meerkat clan.
“This delightful, brave old creature,” he whispered, “is a very long way from his old home. He has clearly suffered a dreadful injury, and may well have lost his place as leader of the Sharpeyes. But I’m happy to report that he’s alive and well. And it looks very much as if he intends to start, here on the edge of the Salt Pans, a new life, with a brand new tribe…”
And of course he was right.
And for their fans all over the globe, here is the latest family picture of…
The Really Mad Mob.
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