Luke gawped. “Malcolm wrote the Book of the Floor?”
“Yeah, yeah,” said Mr. Darrow. “Wouldn’t stop going on about it either.”
He reached the top of the blowhole and heaved Luke out after him. They stood on top of the whale, its backbone stretching away from them like a hillside. The murky green lights of the warflies glimmered on the rubbish around them.
“Damon’s my old boss,” said Mr. Darrow. “A prize moron if ever there was one. I knew if he turned up before Max did, we really were stuffed. He’d hoover us all up without thinking. Maybe even do it on purpose, just to spite me! I had a genius idea for how to communicate with Max, but in order for it to work, I needed the whole Floor working together!”
Mr. Darrow started striding along the whale’s spine. Luke scrambled to keep up.
“You see, Max wears these special earpieces in order to hear. I even put a radio in them once, for a bit of a laugh…and that got me thinking. If I could build a radio transmitter and a microphone, make it slow my voice down and set it to the right frequency, then I could use it to speak through Max’s hearing aid and communicate with him! All the bits and pieces I needed were scattered across the floor—tidiness isn’t exactly my strong point. I just needed to find the right parts.”
The whale’s spine sloped down toward the tail.
“So I told everyone to search the floor for me. I figured that a million hands are better than one, right?” He sighed. “Of course, those idiots all ended up forming into different tribes instead, squabbling over land and arguing with each other. I’ve spent the past eight weeks looking for all the parts myself, and just as I finally finished building the transmitter and microphone, Damon appeared and hoovered us all up!”
They came to the bottom of the whale’s tail and jumped off.
“Now our only hope is to find a way out of here and communicate with Max. If not, then we really are doomed—you know where trash bags get taken, don’t you? Junkyards! If we don’t get out soon, we’re all going to be crushed or incinerated! And the worst part is, I don’t know where my equipment is—it’s lost somewhere in this trash bag!”
Luke turned toward the darkness, his heart pounding. It all made sense to him. This was it. His chance to make up for everything he’d done. His one moment. His destiny.
“Then what are we waiting for?” said Luke. “We’ve got work to do!”
Mr. Darrow looked at him. “What do you mean?”
“We have to overthrow the Bin King!” said Luke. “Reunite the entire Floor! It’s the only way we can save the world—I know it might sound impossible, but nothing is truly—”
“What are you talking about?” said Mr. Darrow. “We’ve done all that already. That’s why I came to get you.”
Luke’s face fell. “What?”
“Ahem.”
Luke turned round. Standing behind him was an enormous warfly, and hanging from its antenna was the Bin King, tied up and groaning. Next to him lay his fly riders, their arms held up in surrender as the Red Queen aimed a sword at their throats. And behind them stood the entire Floor: Reds, Greens and Blues, a million people, united at last.
“What took you so long?”
Luke looked up. Sitting on top of the warfly, looking extremely pleased with herself, was Ivy.
Max tore into another trash bag and a heap of stinking gym socks tumbled out. Sasha tapped him on the shoulder.
“Anything?”
“Nothing!” cried Max.
It seemed like for every bag they opened, another twenty took its place. So far there’d been no sign of anything from Mr. Darrow’s room—and they were running out of time.
“We have to hurry—Pitt could be here any moment!” said Max. “Even with Joy and the girls doing plan B, if we don’t find the right bag soon, then—”
Sasha leapt back in shock. Max looked up—and his face drained. Mr. Pitt was standing at the door, holding a trash bag in a single clenched fist.
“Do you mean this bag?”
The builders had really done a number on the headmaster. His suit was torn, his tie was twisted, and he was covered in tea and jam.
“I bet you thought those builders would be able to hold me back. I’m afraid you underestimated me, boys.”
He nodded to the door behind him. It was rattling and shaking as the builders tried to force their way in, but Mr. Pitt had pushed a metal bar though the handles.
“Did you really think I was going to let you stop me? After everything I’ve worked so hard for?”
Sasha made a leap for the bag, but Mr. Pitt whipped it away.
“Aha! Not so fast! Don’t want to accidentally damage your precious bag, now, do we?”
Max gasped. Mr. Pitt still had no idea that there were people inside it. They had to keep him distracted.
“That bar’s not going to hold the builders back forever, you know,” Max said. “When they get in, they’ll beat the stuffing out of you!”
Mr. Pitt laughed. “Oh, I don’t need forever—just a few seconds.”
He pushed over a heap of bags beside him. They tumbled to the floor, revealing a vast machine that had lain hidden beneath them. The machine was as tall and wide as the room, and at its front was a metal mouth filled with racks of jagged teeth.
“Like it?” said Mr. Pitt. “It’s our new state-of-the-art garbage disposal unit. It grinds everything down into a highly nutritious mulch, which can be added to school lunches to save money. It can get through a ton of rubbish in less than a minute!”
Mr. Pitt pulled a lever beside him, and the machine whirred to life. The room was filled with a noise so loud that Max’s hearing aids blared with feedback. The jaws of the machine spun and twisted, faster and faster. Mr. Pitt held the bag above them.
“First I’m going to destroy this bag that you two care so much about,” he said. “And then I’m going to expel both of you.”
Max’s eyes widened with horror. Mr. Pitt smiled at him.
“Remember, Max? I always win.”
Mr. Pitt was right—there was no way Max or Sasha could get the bag off him now. The floor people were doomed.
They needed a miracle.
The Red Queen drew her sword and stepped forward.
“People of the Floor!” she cried. “Thanks to the Wise Man, we now know the whole truth—King Luke is no traitor!”
“That’s right!” said Ivy. “He’s just a bit of an idiot!”
Luke beamed. It was probably the biggest compliment Ivy had ever given him.
“Now to find a way out of this bag and protect our world, at any cost!” the Red Queen cried. “But first, let’s finish what we started. Execute the Bin King and his fly riders!”
The crowd cheered. The Red Queen turned to the Bin King, her sword outstretched—
“No!” Luke leapt forward, blocking her. “We can’t hurt anyone!”
He grabbed the Red Queen’s sword and cut the Bin King down.
“We’ve got bigger things to think about now—if we want to get out of this bag alive, we have to let the Bin King go!”
The Bin King stared at Luke in shock. “You’re…you’re not going to kill me, after everything I’ve done?”
Luke shook his head. “No. You’re going to help us get out of here!”
He helped the Bin King to his feet.
“Get on your warflies and search every corner of this bag. Find a way for us to escape. Go!”
The Bin King nodded and scurried off with his fly riders. The Red Queen turned to Luke, her eyes blazing with fury.
“How dare you!”
“Sorry for taking your sword,” said Luke nervously, handing it back, “but we don’t have much time. Demon’s making plans to destroy us as we speak. We need to organize an escape, and you’re the only ruler left who people still trust. Can you take charg
e, Your Majesty?”
Some of the fire left the Red Queen’s eyes. She sheathed her sword.
“Mmm. You’re lucky to have friends like the Wise Man and Ivy. If it wasn’t for them, I’d have left you to starve in that whale!”
She turned away and started giving orders to the crowd. Ivy dropped down beside him. Luke scuffed his feet on the ground.
“Thanks,” he said.
Ivy smiled. “What—for saving your life, even though you’re a wiener?”
Luke blushed. “Yeah, fine. I was a total wiener.”
Ivy patted him on the back. “Luke, you’re the best wiener I know.”
Mr. Darrow marched between them.
“Right! That’s quite enough of that—we’ve got a transmitter and a microphone to find!” He pointed to the warfly that Ivy had just been sitting on. “Know how to fly that?”
Ivy’s eyes lit up. “Do I!”
“She doesn’t,” said Luke nervously.
“That’s good enough for me.” Mr. Darrow started climbing up the bristles on the warfly’s leg. “Fly low and slow. The transmitter’s got a little flashing light on it. That’s our only hope of finding it!”
Ivy leapt onto the warfly with a whoop of delight, grabbed the bristles on its head, and slowly lifted it from the ground. The warfly made a wobbling turn in the air and buzzed into the darkness. Soon the vast crowd of Floor people were far behind them, and Luke, Ivy and Mr. Darrow were alone.
“Wow,” said Luke. “You’re pretty good at this, Ivy.”
“Don’t be so surprised,” Ivy muttered. “I’d be even better if I could see where I’m going, though! We need one of those green torches the fly riders were using earlier.”
There was a sudden spark behind them, and the warfly lit up with a warm green glow. Mr. Darrow had found the torch and was holding it up, studying it.
“Mmm. Not bad work, you know. Must be done using a chemical reaction from that old bottle of bleach I put in the bin.” He smiled. “Amazing what people can do when you leave them to it, isn’t it?”
The warfly swerved, narrowly missing a huge building that loomed out of the dark.
“What was that?” said Luke.
Mr. Darrow grinned. “The Great Pyramid of Giza! Took me eight months to build, that one. Had to carve the interior chambers with a toothpick.”
Luke was amazed. “You made that?”
Mr. Darrow nodded. “Course! I made them all—everything you can see. There’s a whole lifetime of work in this trash bag.”
Luke gazed around the darkness. All around them were vast intricate structures toppling over each other: boats and planes and palaces and monuments and dinosaurs and skyscrapers….
“Wow…you’re a genius!” said Luke.
Mr. Darrow looked at him. “You think so?”
Luke nodded. Even in the dim glow of the green torch, Mr. Darrow couldn’t possibly hide how pleased he looked.
“Well,” he muttered. “About time.”
“Luke?” said Ivy. “Could you come here for a moment, please?”
Luke sat beside her. Her face was worried.
“What’s the matter?”
“This trash bag,” she whispered. “It’s huge. There’s a whole Floor’s worth of stuff in here. The transmitter could be buried under an inch of sand, or trapped beneath one of these enormous buildings…and even if we do manage to find it, it might not work.”
Ivy glanced at Mr. Darrow, who was searching the darkness behind her with a single torch.
“I don’t think he realizes how impossible this is. We’re never going to find it in time. We have to think of some other way to—”
“Down there!”
Mr. Darrow was pointing below them. There, blinking in the sea of darkness, was a single pinprick of light.
“The transmitter! Quick—bring her down!”
Ivy nose-dived between the Statue of Liberty and the Colosseum, coming to a bumpy stop on the ground. They jumped onto the sand, and there, just ahead of them, was a blinking white light.
“We did it! You brilliant, brilliant children!” Mr. Darrow said, laughing. “I don’t know how it’s possible, but we—”
He stopped. The light wasn’t just blinking, it was coming toward them.
Luke held up the torch.
“Miss Binkles?”
The flea limped out of the darkness, filthy and bruised. She nuzzled Luke with a squeak and dropped something at his feet. It was the transmitter and microphone—beaten and bashed, but still working.
“I—I don’t believe it,” said Luke. “She found it! Miss Binkles, you’re a hero!”
“You know this flea?” asked Mr. Darrow.
Luke hugged the flea tight, and Miss Binkles purred happily.
“She’s my friend,” said Luke. “And she’s the best flea in the whole wide world.”
So it was that one tiny boy, and the flea he had raised from a pupa, were able to save their world. They didn’t know it at the time, but they were mere inches from death: held over the grinding wheels of a machine that was ready to destroy everything they knew. They were from two different species, and they had never spoken the same language, but they were friends. And sometimes, that’s all you need to achieve the impossible.
No one saw it happen, of course. They were no bigger than ants. They were hidden in the darkness of a trash bag in a school basement.
The world is filled with millions of miracles that no one sees.
Max’s eyes flickered between Mr. Pitt and the bag in his hand. Sweat poured down his brow. The sound of the machine was overwhelming—Max had to keep his eyes locked on Mr. Pitt’s lips to work out what he was saying.
“You know, boys,” said Mr. Pitt with a sigh of pleasure, “it’s moments like this that really make me appreciate being a headmaster.”
Max and Sasha shared a glance. So long as they kept Mr. Pitt talking, they had a chance of saving the bag.
“I never wanted to run a school—I don’t even like children! But the power…you should try it one day!”
The bag swung over the jaws of the machine.
“Once the governors have seen the Pitt Building, they’ll put me on the board of governors too. I’ll keep working all the way up to the top! Bigger schools, bigger boards—then, one day, I’ll be the national minister of education. Millions of children under my control!”
He cackled and gave the bag another shake.
“But none of that matters to you, does it? All you care about is what’s in this bag! A bag that means nothing to me!” He waved it at them mockingly. “Do you have any idea how much power that gives me, boys?”
Max froze. He had seen something behind Mr. Pitt—a tiny movement. The slightest change in the air.
A fly. A whole swarm of them. Dozens.
“As far as you two are concerned, I am your GOD!”
More and more flies were appearing. They’d made a hole in the side of the trash bag and were zooming out by the hundreds, their buzzing hidden by the sound of the whirring machine. Max couldn’t believe his eyes—and with one glance, he could tell that Sasha couldn’t, either. The only person who didn’t realize was Mr. Pitt.
“Do you understand, boys?”
The flies were forming shapes in the air: one swarm became an arrow, pointed at Mr. Pitt’s ears; the other was gathering to form a letter.
X
“DO YOU UNDERSTAND?”
Max stared at the flies in amazement. They were trying to communicate with him…and it was working. He understood completely.
He reached up to his hearing aid, pressed the pinprick button…
And a voice crackled out of his earpiece, clear and bright as day.
“Max, it’s Luke. Don’t worry…we’ve got him now.”
* * *
Luke sat on the highest warfly behind Mr. Pitt, the radio transmitter strapped to the bristle beside him. He was holding the microphone so tightly that the bones in his hands were almost visible.
“Luke, stop being such a wuss!” shouted Ivy.
Luke shot her a furious glance. She was still piloting the warfly, which was the main reason Luke was so terrified in the first place.
“Have you seen how high up we are? I can’t even see the floor!”
Ivy smiled dreamily. “I know—wonderful, isn’t it?”
“Quiet, you two!”
Mr. Darrow sat on a raised chair behind them, his eyes fixed on Max.
“I need to concentrate. I’m going to have to switch to Max’s speed so we can help him!”
Luke frowned. “You can do that?”
“Course!” said Mr. Darrow. “Wasn’t born a Floor person, was I? I can see things at both speeds if I want to. Makes me slow down a bit, that’s all. Here we go!”
Mr. Darrow’s eyes widened, his mouth hung open…and just like that, he fell into a trance. It was like he was fast asleep, but his eyes were wide open. Luke gulped—he was in charge now.
“Right, Max, listen up—here’s the plan….”
* * *
“MAX!”
Mr. Pitt was waving his arms, trying to get Max’s attention. Max swallowed—he had to keep the headmaster distracted so he wouldn’t see the flies.
“Er…yes, sir! Absolutely! You’ve won and we’ve lost and, er…so on.”
Mr. Pitt smiled. “That’s right! Maybe next time you’ll think twice before trying to pull one over on me!”
Max kept one eye on Mr. Pitt while listening to Luke through the earpiece.
“Max, the Greens are on our side now. The rest of the Floor are inside the bag, waiting to escape.”
The flies were forming a huge battalion in the air behind Mr. Pitt.
“We’re going to distract Mr. Pitt,” Luke explained. “We need you and Sasha to grab the trash bag before it drops into the machine. Can you do that?”
Max looked at Sasha. And with one look, he could tell that Sasha understood. His face was glowing with excitement. The flies billowed up behind Mr. Pitt like a black wave, hanging over his head.
Max and the Millions Page 14
