by Sean Cullen
“Noooo!” The cry was filled with rage. Liam opened his eyes in time to see Aidan leap from the stairs above the Teddy. The Guard Captain landed on the monster’s shaggy shoulder, a stun pistol in his hand.
“How’s this for a pain in the neck?” Aidan growled. He jammed the pistol into a joint between the shoulder and the humongous head. He fired and kept firing until the pistol’s energy was drained.
Sometimes luck is fickle. Sometimes it is kind. Sometimes every particle of the world aligns to give you the best of all possible results. This was one of those rare times. Though the monstrous teddy bear was overwhelmingly huge and powerful, the pistol managed to strike it in the most vulnerable spot, the central power conduit that ran from its brain to its spine. The creature went completely rigid and then fell with all the grace of a small building, crashing headlong to the cobbles and sending pieces of shattered stone flying in the air.
Aidan leapt to the ground as the Teddy fell, rolling and ending up at the side of his King. He looked down at King Liam and his heart was wrenched by what he saw. Liam was still trapped in the massive paw of the lifeless beast, his face pale, his eyes closed. The unruly red hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat and soot. A trickle of red threaded its way from the corner of his mouth and across his white skin.
“Majesty,” he said with a choked sob, desperately pulling on the massive claws, trying to loosen the Teddy’s death grip.
The King opened his pale eyes. He blinked, coughed, and winced at the pain. Looking up into Aidan’s tearful face, he smiled. “Captain,” Liam said, his voice a raspy whisper. “I gave you an order.”
“I’m sorry, Sire. The rest are safely away. I couldn’t leave you alone.”
The King smiled and coughed again, blood dribbling down his chin. When he was finally able to speak again he said, “I must admit, I’m glad you are here.”
“I’m where I belong, Sire.”
“I hate you seeing me like this … So helpless.”
“My King, you are many things, but you have never been helpless.” Aidan took the King’s hand in his own. “Rest now.”
“Yes,” Liam whispered, his breath uneven. “I could do with a little sleep. So tired.” The blue eyes fluttered closed. The King took a ragged breath and then another … then was still. And so, King Liam, seventy-seventh King of Switzerland, Master of the Hollow Mountain, was no more.
“So sad,” said a voice. A shadow fell across the Guard Captain and his King. Aidan looked up to see Mr. Candy and Mr. Sweet standing over him. “Still, it’s what he deserved.”
Aidan raised his pistol, aimed at Mr. Sweet, and thumbed the trigger. Nothing happened. The charge was gone, expended on the Teddy. Mr. Candy tilted his head to one side. Holding out a closed fist, he opened his gloved fingers to reveal a butterfly. The colourful insect darted across the empty space between the agent and the boy and stung Aidan’s exposed neck. The Lieutenant of the Royal Guards fell across the body of his King.
Chapter 27
The door to the laboratory swung open. Two Grey Agents stormed into the room, rifles poised to deal with any stray children. They were part of a detail that was sweeping the entire mountain, gathering up any children who might be hiding and taking them into custody. They were surprised to discover that one of their number was already there.
A Grey Agent stood in the middle of the room holding a small, dark-skinned boy in his arms. The agent wore a jetpack on his back. The boy was unconscious, hanging loosely in the agent’s grasp.
“How did you get in here ahead of us?” one of the agents, a Mr. Toffee, demanded. “We were the first ones in this quadrant.”
The strange agent shrugged. He took a couple of steps towards the newcomers but still didn’t speak.
“What’s your name and unit number?” the second newcomer, who was called Miss Nougat, demanded. “Why don’t you speak? Are you damaged?”
The strange agent walked straight up to them. When he was less than a metre away the little boy he was holding came to life, tossing two orange objects at Mr. Toffee and Miss Nougat. The agents had no time to react: the hamsters latched onto them, skittered up to their skulls, and delivered their lethal charge. Toffee and Nougat fell in a heap on the laboratory floor.
Parveen eased back into the robot’s arms and thumbed the small black remote control box. The jetpack flared to life. The robot hovered out of the laboratory door and floated down the corridor into the courtyard.
Parveen peered through slitted lids as he guided the robot agent through the maze of wreckage from the battle between the Teddy and the King. His heart ached when he saw the fallen body of King Liam looking tiny and frail in the metal frame of his armour. He saw Aidan tossed onto a cart. The Guard Captain still breathed, so Parveen knew he was alive. An agent rolled the cart towards the elevator that was now functioning.
I can’t do anything for him yet, Parveen thought. I must find Noor. Everywhere, the bodies of raccoons lay smouldering and inert on the stone paving. He felt some satisfaction seeing the fallen agents sprawled out like tumbled scarecrows here and there.
No time to mourn now, Parveen said to himself. Must find Noor.
He floated on past agents who were searching the wreckage. Above, in the Nurtury and residences, he heard explosions. He hoped the other children had gotten safely away.
Gliding to the stairs, he floated down the stone steps through the wreckage of the doughty Orphan Queen, feeling a pang of sorrow for the craft that had brought them through so much. He stopped short when he saw what had become of the green wonderland of Frieda’s Cavern.
Everywhere fires burned. What had once been beautiful gardens were now torn and charred wastelands, ravaged by the attack of the Firebirds and the treads of the CCTVs. The ungainly tracked vehicles were moving around the cavern, loading the bodies of stunned children into their large, gaping cargo holds.
“You there!”
An agent stood on the stairs below. Parveen touched a knob on the hidden remote and the robot tilted its head.
“Get moving!”
The robot, guided by Parveen, nodded and started down the stairs. Parveen sent the robot floating in a straight line out into the open air, heading as fast as he could for the ruined gateway to Heinrich’s Cavern. He did his best to avoid crossing paths with any more agents. The risk of finally having someone figure out that the robot wasn’t actually an agent became greater with each encounter. He reached the gate without further incident and headed down into the lowest cavern.
He sailed towards the loading platform. On the stone apron a long row of CCTVs idled, the noise like a herd of huge beasts grumbling. Agents were supervising the loading of more unconscious children into the cargo pods. Parveen floated down for a closer look.
The back walls of the pods were lowered to form ramps. Agents carried children up the ramps and laid them in little compartments like letters in little cubbyholes at the post office. Mr. Candy and Mr. Sweet stood together deep in conversation. Parveen steered well clear of them.
She must be in one of these, Parveen thought. He floated along the line of vehicles, getting as close as he dared, scanning the interior of each vehicle for a sign of his sister, Noor. He had gone down the entire line without success and was just starting back up when the farthest of the CCTVs raised the ramp of its cargo pod and slammed it shut. The CCTV started forward, heading for the exit tunnel.
Parveen knew he didn’t have much time. He had to find his sister soon. He continued back up the line, scanning the pods as quickly as he dared. At last, his heart leaped. He saw a head of glossy black hair done up in a ponytail that dangled almost to the floor of the pod. Parveen turned the robot and headed up the ramp of the vehicle.
Floating into the cargo pod, he came to the cubby holding Noor. She looked to be sleeping deeply, breathing slow and even. Her face was peaceful. Was there any lasting damage? He didn’t know. He could only hope the effect would wear off if he got her away.
He made t
he robot lower him into the cubby alongside her. He crawled in, unhooking his bag from the belt of the robot. He had food and some essential tools in the bag, packed in haste while the battle raged in the Workshop courtyard.
When he was safely stowed he guided the robot out of the cargo pod and down the ramp. Using the remote, he directed the robot in a straight line, far away from the cargo vehicles, and then pressed a button. The robot reached into its coat pocket, pulled out a hamster, and slapped it against the side of its head. The effect was instantaneous: the robot agent convulsed and then collapsed on the platform. Agents gathered around, looking down at the heap of grey clothing.
Mr. Candy and Mr. Sweet jerked their heads towards the fallen robot. “Leave him. There’s no time,” Mr. Sweet instructed. The agents dispersed, returning to their individual tasks.
“We’ve lost another agent, Mr. Sweet.”
“Indeed, Mr. Candy. Those hamsters are disturbingly effective. We must develop a countermeasure.”
“Not a pressing need. Once the integration is achieved and the portal opened, it will all be moot.”
“Moot indeed. Still no sign of Hamish X.”
“Sadly no. I believe the King was indeed telling the truth when he said the asset was not here. What shall we do?”
Mr. Candy thought for a moment. “I think we can make Hamish X come to us.”
“How, Mr. Candy?”
“I think the destruction of the Hollow Mountain will be a clear message to Hamish X. He’ll know we have these pathetic children, his friends”—Mr. Candy spat the word out as if it burned his tongue—“and he will come to take them back, Mr. Sweet. Is the charge in place? Shall we get out of this miserable mountain?”
“Indeed, Mr. Candy. Indeed on both counts.”
Mr. Sweet and Mr. Candy fired their packs and set off in the direction of the tunnel.
PARVEEN KNEW he had no chance of getting out of the cargo pod with his sister without being caught. He resigned himself to travelling in the cargo pod to its final destination, hoping there would be some opportunity for escape along the way. He huddled up close to his sister, throwing his arms around her inert body and hugging her tightly.
“Don’t worry, Noor. We won’t be parted again.” The cargo pod door squealed as it rose. With a clang, it slammed shut, plunging Parveen and Noor into darkness.
AN HOUR LATER, Mr. Candy and Mr. Sweet stood on the mountainside, a helicopter idling nearby. Cold rain pelted down in the grey dawn.
“Many have escaped, Mr. Candy,” Mr. Sweet said. “There are far too few children in the cargo pods.”
“There are enough. They will serve us well during the integration. When the portal opens, it won’t matter any more.”
“Yes, Mr. Candy,” Mr. Sweet nodded. “Shall we send Hamish X a message?”
Mr. Candy turned to Mr. Sweet and did something very odd for an agent: he smiled, showing yellow, discoloured teeth. Mr. Sweet smiled back, his teeth also ghastly and yellow-grey. Mr. Sweet held out a black box with a single red button in the centre. Mr. Candy plunged a long gloved finger down onto the button.
A deep rumble shook the mountainside. Beneath the earth, a detonation occurred that smashed through sheets of bedrock, bursting the crust of the earth like a pimple and releasing molten rock from deep within the root of the Hollow Mountain. Boiling red lava percolated up through the strata and began to fill Heinrich’s Cavern in a rising red tide.
By the time the flow erupted out of the tunnel, sweeping down the mountainside like a river, the helicopter was long gone, winging its way across the lightening Swiss countryside. The Swiss people woke to the news that there’d been a volcanic eruption in the Alps for the first time in modern history.
“I do love an eruption, Mr. Sweet.”
“It’s very bracing, Mr. Candy.”
Earlier, when they had climbed into their helicopter and lifted off, neither of them noticed the raccoon watching them from behind a rock. The creature blinked its black eyes. With a flick of its tail, it turned and headed south.
EPILOGUE
Hamish X did not, unfortunately, hear the news about the bizarre eruption. He had managed to run through the night, feeding on the amazing stamina his boots provided. He kept to the back roads and smaller highways, resting in the daytime on a moving freight train and running at night. He headed south.
After three days of travel he arrived in the Greek city of Athens in the early evening. The ruins of the Acropolis were framed in the orange glow of the setting sun as he jogged through the narrow streets through the busy traffic. A trip to the train station and he had the contents of the locker in his backpack: money, and several passports from different countries with several different identities.
It was dark when he arrived at the shores of the Mediterranean at the port of Piraeus, the shipping centre for Athens. In the blackest part of the night he trotted along the wharves, looking for a vessel that would suit his purposes. He wanted to get to Africa, and these fishing vessels plied the waters off the North African coast. At last, he saw a rusted, leaky tub of a ship and decided it would do.
Climbing the anchor chain, he slipped over the rail and onto the deck. No one was about. He padded along the deck until he came to a broad hatch. Hamish X lowered himself down into the hold.
The stench of fish was overwhelming, but he breathed deeply to inure himself to the horrible smell. “It may be bad,” he whispered to himself, “but it can’t beat Caribou Blue.” The thought of the horrible cheese filled him once more with a sense of loneliness that he hadn’t known since before he came to Windcity and met Parveen and Mimi. “I hope they’re all right,” he murmured to himself as he curled behind a pile of rope, hidden from sight. “I’ll find the Professor and come right back. I’ll see them again in no time.” On that happy thought, he closed his eyes and let the gentle rocking of the ship send him off to sleep.
He was having a dream about Mimi and Parveen, smiling and murmuring in his sleep when, hours later, he woke with a knife pressed to his throat.
He opened his eyes and looked up to see a girl with dark, filthy hair and bright blue eyes leaning over him.
“One move and you die,” she hissed.
“Fine. I won’t move. Who are you and what’s the big idea?”
“My name is Maggie,” the girl grinned fiercely. “And we’re taking over this ship.”
1 It sounds odd, but some people do read things they don’t like. Roman schoolboys were forced to read extremely boring stories and memorize them in an effort to harden themselves against the boredom they would experience as adults. I knew a man who read nothing but phone bills. People are just odd that way.
2 A sabbatical is a trip one takes to learn new things about one’s profession. Teachers go on sabbaticals to learn better how to teach or to research things for a textbook they might be writing. The only profession that doesn’t really take sabbaticals is that of travel agent, because they go on trips anyway and it would be a waste of time.
3 The term cliffhanger comes from the Otaqua tribe who lived near the Grand Canyon in Arizona. The Otaquans took storytelling very seriously, and if they found a storyteller’s work boring they would threaten to toss him or her off a cliff into the Canyon. This usually improved the storytellers’ skills immensely and led to some of the most exciting and engaging stories. Hanging from a cliff does tend to inspire the imagination.
4 Except when dealing with the homeless and the hungry. One should always leave them wanting less.
5 The second lesson is Never Let Dolphins Drive. Certainly, it’s irrelevant as far as narration is concerned, but prudent in everyday life. Dolphins are quite intelligent, but instead of hands they have flippers, which are prone to slip on the steering wheel, leading to many automotive accidents. Also, their skin must be kept moist, and this tends to ruin most upholstery. They have a very good sense of direction, however, so always let the dolphin hold the map.
6 Oh, Mr. Nieuwendyke! Still dressed as a cat. Will
he ever learn?
7 Organic and orgamic are two very different things indeed. Organic means living or using materials found in nature. Orgamic pertains to things made using the Japanese paper-folding art of origami. Orgamic machines are not very efficient because their component parts tend to unfold after repeated use. A Japanese company attempted to build robots out of folded paper, but the prototypes disintegrated in a rainstorm and the project was abandoned.
8 Uncanny is a word that means “too strange or unlikely to be natural or human.” It comes from ancient Persia, where people who were believed to be witches were placed in a large can and dropped in a deep pool. If they escaped the can and didn’t drown, they were assumed to be magical and were given a special hat made of pita bread and a beard made of leaves. The Persians were strange people.
9 Parveen is correct. Without giving anything away, I can guarantee that the plans of the ODA are evil indeed. They would certainly win an award for Most Evil Plan of the Century at the Evil Plan Awards. Of course, having such awards would be counterproductive for those making evil plans, as the attendant publicity would lead to the discovery of the evil plans in question and so lead to those plans being foiled. Still, what a red carpet event that would be: all the greatest evil minds together in one gala night of evil. But I digress.
10 The Chameleon whale has a hide that is capable of taking on the colour of its surroundings, making it very difficult to hunt. Unfortunately, the whales are extremely friendly, loving nothing better than to frolic in the wake of ships and wave their flippers at humans, thus negating their native chameleon capability. The Chameleon whale is believed to be extinct, but every once in a while there are unsubstantiated sightings, the most recent off the beach in Santa Barbara, California, where one was reported to have been masquerading as a group of chubby German tourists.
11 Not so. The saddest, most hopeless place of all time was an ice cream parlour called Nahid’s Num Nums. It opened in the middle of the Sahara Desert in 1754, two hundred years before reliable refrigeration was available in the region.
