‘AAAAARGH!!!’ yelled the boys.
But Aunty-boy had only been severing their ropes – they were free! Artie and Bumshoe jumped around, laughing and whooping.
‘How did you find us here?’ Artie asked breathlessly.
The little lady tapped the trapeze pendant on Artie’s necklace.
‘A lovely memento from your dear daddy, but I also took the liberty of installing a top-of-the-range GPS tracker inside …’
‘GET THIS ANIMAL OFF ME!!’ bawled Mary, who was still spinning in circles beside them with Macaroni swinging off his nose.
Aunty-boy gave a sharp little whistle and the dog immediately unclamped himself and sat quietly, gazing lovingly up at his owner.
‘GET IT AWAY FROM ME! PLEASE. I’LL BE GOOD. I PROMISE!’ screamed Mary, who had deep doggy-teeth cuts all over his nose. Curiously, Artie noticed that the word ‘MARY’ of his tattoo now appeared to read more like ‘MERRY’. It seemed Macaroni had inadvertently corrected Mary’s spelling mistake!*
*Please note, dear reader, that despite this spelling correction the character of Mary will continue to be referred to as Mary.
Mary, clutching at his nose, galloped back inside Grime House, leaping over his prone and prickle-covered comrade.
‘Well! Perhaps it’s time we all popped off,’ said Aunty-boy.
The three of them, with Macaroni in tow, were escaping through the kitchen when the door into the corridor was suddenly blocked by Mayor Grime and the two gigantic men in sunglasses.
‘Well!’ said the Mayor quietly. ‘What’s all this?’ He began moving towards them, his tiny eyes glistening with menace. ‘I’m not happy about this,’ he hissed. ‘I’m not happy at all.’
Immediately, Aunty-boy was pressing something into each of the boys’ hands. Artie looked down. It was a clothes peg!
‘Hold your breath and block your ears, tartlets!’ she whispered. Bewildered as they were, the boys clamped the pegs on their noses. Reaching over her shoulder, the old lady tore something from the holster on her back.
BOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
The room shook as if a volcano had erupted under them. It was the Fartex 120Y! The far side of the room was filled with stinking green gas. The two boys exchanged a look of astonishment. The Fartex actually worked!
‘Oh, yes! That’s a very good result,’ Aunty-boy cried. ‘That seemed to go much better than the early trials,’ she added, with a little cough. ‘And now we have to move rather quickly, boysenberries!’ She took a deep breath, and they bolted for the doorway.
Mr Grime and his henchmen were now collapsing and spluttering in the putrid green fug of the kitchen, clawing at their throats. Artie, Bumshoe and Aunty-boy tore straight past them and out the door.
As he rounded the corner, Bumshoe paused, threw a thigh in the air and made his own noisy contribution to the overpowering stench of the kitchen. He then slammed the door behind him, and they took off down the corridor, cackling with glee.
At last they were able to stop and take in a big breath. Artie heard the kitchen door fly open behind them and the men began to spill out into the hallway. Once again, Aunty-boy plucked out the Fartex 120Y.
‘Pegs in place and block your ears!!’ she ordered the boys.
BOOOOOOOOOOOM!
The end of the hallway was engulfed in a rancid plume of gas.
Leaving the Mayor and his henchmen bumbling around in the green haze, they continued running for the front door, with Macaroni dashing ahead. As they neared the entrance fyer, they began to encounter the walls of caged animals.
‘We’ve got to set them free!’ cried Artie, tearing the peg from his nose. He began throwing open every cage in sight. Aunty-boy and Bumshoe did the same.
Pandemonium erupted in the hallway. Possums, snakes, budgies, rabbits and dogs were scampering, slithering, flapping, hopping and loping in all directions, with Macaroni herding them towards the exit…
Arriving in the entrance foyer, Artie ploughed his way through the traffic jam of confused animals. At last his hand found the gold handle of the front door. He tore it open and then he, Bumshoe, Aunty-boy and Macaroni rushed outside, followed by a steady stream of escaping beasts.
But Artie stopped.
‘You go on ahead. There’s something I have to do.’
‘What?’ said Bumshoe. ‘You can’t stay here!’
‘I’ll catch up with you,’ said Artie.
The nauseating gas, having travelled the length of the hallway, was now pouring out through the front door.
‘Come on, Master Small, we’d best away!’ piped Aunty-boy. Macaroni yapped in agreement.
‘Artie!’ cried Bumshoe. ‘What’s wrong with you? You can’t go back in there – they’re all bonkers! They’ll eat you! And it’s full of gas – including mine. You really don’t want to go in there!’
Artie, ignoring his friend’s plea, turned to Aunty-boy. ‘How will you get out through the front gates?’ he asked.
Aunty-boy blinked at him through her thick lenses, tapped the two Prickle-ator balls she had attached to her waistband, then turned around and waggled her Fartex at him.
‘Never fear when a Fartex is near!’ she chirped.
‘Great,’ he grinned. ‘Now, run! Just go! I’ve got a tortoise to save.’
With that, Artie took a deep breath and leapt in through the front door, straight back into the stench, the chaos and the evil of Grime House.
Chapter 22
Artie noticed that the fumes were thicker up high, so he threw himself onto all fours and began to crawl. A swarm of escaping animals moved past him in the opposite direction, like Noah’s Ark in reverse.
Through the gas, Artie could faintly see the shape of Mayor Grime being ushered through a door off the hallway by the men in sunglasses.
Artie was determined to find Gareth the tortoise. Still holding his breath, he began rummaging through all the cages and searching among all the animals skittering past. Birds flapped into his face and pooed on him, a litter of excited puppies yapped at him, and a giant lizard of some sort clambered over his back.
Artie had held his breath for as long as he could. He urgently needed air, but dared not inhale the noxious fumes from the Fartex 120Y. The gas made his eyes sting and he felt his energy rapidly running out. Then, in the very last bank of cages, he spotted Gareth the tortoise, right at head height and unable to jump down like all the other animals.
Artie reached in and took hold of the little animal, then clutching him gently under one arm, he slid off down the corridor like a snake, trying to stay under the dense green cloud above him.
Finally the front door of the mansion was in sight. Artie leapt up, Gareth cradled carefully in his hands, and allowed himself one huge breath. Unfortunately, the air was still thick with rotten-egg gas, and Artie began hacking and coughing. He pulled at the door handle. Fresh air blew onto his face and he sucked deep, grateful draughts of it into his lungs. Still doubled over and clutching the tortoise tight to his chest, he sprinted down the stairs … straight into the arms of Mayor Grime.
Chapter 23
The Mayor bent down to stare directly into Artie’s eyes. Once again, the boy had the creeping feeling that his soul was being peered into. The two men in sunglasses, as ever, stood blankly to attention behind the Mayor.
‘Do you like tortoises?’ whispered Grime.
‘Yes,’ said Artie meekly.
The Mayor clicked his fingers, and one of the henchmen lunged forward, grabbing Artie by the shirt, and lifted him up to the Mayor’s eye-height. The Mayor studied Artie closely.
‘You must really like them to put yourself into so much danger,’ the Mayor offered. ‘Or is it just this tortoise in particular that has a special place in your heart?’
Artie stared into the tiny black holes that were the Mayor’s eyes.
‘I don’t know, sir,’ he breathed.
‘You don’t know or you don’t want me to know?’ said the Mayor.
Artie glanced around
the garden, desperately hoping that Aunty-boy and Bumshoe had escaped to safety.
‘You see, skinny boy,’ the Mayor continued. ‘You’ve now put me in a terrible pickle. You have caused me to shut down my business, ransacked my home and set free my pantry. But do you know what the worst thing is that you’ve done?’ The Mayor’s voice dropped until it was barely audible, but Artie could feel the gigantic volcano of rage beneath the surface. Once again, white bubbles of spit began forming at the edges of his mouth.
‘You humiliated me,’ he purred. ‘So now I need to find a new, very special punishment, and then we can resume our preparations for lunch. I’m trying to discern what that punishment should be … And you’re going to help me, you see? Now, who does the tortoise belong to?’
‘Don’t know,’ gasped Artie, who was by this time almost being strangled by the force of the henchman’s hands.
‘Dad! Dad! I know whose tortoise it is!’ cried a familiar voice.
And there, right beside Artie, was Nate.
‘It belongs to the foreigner girl, who lives next door to Farty Artie!’ Nate continued. ‘She’s always going on at school about her stupid pet tortoise and posting pictures of it online! Plus, everyone knows Farty Artie has a crush on her, so it all makes sense!’
Artie felt himself being gradually lowered to the ground by the man in sunglasses. The Mayor gazed down at the boy with a little smile.
‘You see, that’s why my family is the most important in the entire town-and-the-immediate-outlying-district,’ he said. ‘And it’s why we live in a palace like this.’ He gestured to the gargantuan residence behind them. ‘Because we are so brilliant, so instinctual. We are, in fact, a higher species …’
At this, Nate looked around, beaming, and his chest puffed out until Artie thought it might pop the buttons on his shirt.
‘Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch.’
Artie turned to see Funnel-web hobbling out to join them, being helped along by Mr Budgie. He was still covered head to foot in prickles the size of sewing needles.
‘Gimme that!’ he snarled, tearing Gareth from Artie’s hands. ‘Oh, so you like this little fella, do you? Well, let’s see how you like him as a frisbee!’ Artie stared in dismay as the hairy man began an awkward and painful little run-up in order to fling the unfortunate beast as far as he could.
‘Ouch. Ouch. Ouch ouch ouch ouch.’
‘Wait!’ commanded the Mayor. ‘We need this tortoise.’
Funnel-web halted, clearly disappointed.
‘Since you fools have allowed the fat friend to escape, we are going to find a substitute for my feast.’ The Mayor stared deep into Artie’s eyes again. ‘You are going to fetch us your little tortoise-loving girlfriend.’
Artie froze. He couldn’t possibly let Gladys be dragged into this ordeal.
‘I won’t do it,’ he said.
‘Oh, yes you will,’ the Mayor murmured. ‘Or very much worse things will happen to you than merely being eaten by my family as a kebab.’
Artie briefly tried to imagine anything worse than being consumed by the Grime family, but came up with nothing.
‘If you refuse to help us something dreadful might befall your family, and that would be a terrible outcome, wouldn’t it?’
Artie gasped, and bit his lip to stop from crying, but had to bite it so hard that he felt he might actually chew it right off.
‘Can I come please, Dad?’ begged Nate. ‘I can help! I’ll show you where she lives!’
‘Well, you’ll have to ask your mother …’ said the Mayor. ‘But she’s working out at the moment, so I wouldn’t want to bother her right now.’
Suddenly, above them, a window was flung open and a head appeared.
‘What’s all that booming and banging that’s been going on?’ screeched the face. It was a truly terrifying face. If Nate Grime would win a bronze medal in the Scary Olympics, and Mayor Grime silver, then Mrs Grime would win gold in a clean sweep across all categories. Her dyed-black hair perched on her head like a stork’s nest. She had a mouth like a cat-flap, and a gigantic jaw that appeared to be in need of a shave. She wore a sparkly lycra jumpsuit and her spray-tanned skin was the colour of an overripe tangerine.
‘Sorry, Jaynee dear, nothing to worry about!’ trilled Mr Grime with a tight little smile.
‘I’m trying to lift weights here! And I’ve got a terrible migraine coming on. But does anybody care? Does anybody care?’ she shrieked. She had a voice like a chainsaw.
‘Yes, dear, I do, dear,’ piped Mayor Grime meekly.
In that instant, Artie decided he had nothing to lose. He would appeal to Mrs Grime. Surely she would take pity on him!
‘Please, Mrs Grime! Can you help me?’ he called. ‘I’m scared! I think Mr Grime is trying to … eat me!’
There was a silence, during which the huge face gazed blankly down at the small boy. Artie waited, his heart thumping. She’s going to save me, he thought desperately … She will save me!
‘Well, make sure you don’t polish off the lot of him,’ she bellowed. ‘And I want the prime cuts, alright? No cheap cuts!’
‘Of course, my nightingale!’ cooed the Mayor. He pinched Artie hard on the arm for his insolence.
‘Mummy?’ called Nate.
‘Yes, Natey-poo? My little poozy. My boozy-woozy. My boozy-woozy little woozy-poo …’ she crooned. Her neck bulged with muscles which rippled at every word, like death adders trying to escape from a rubber bag.
‘Mummy, can I go with Dad and watch him at work today?’
‘Well … I suppose you can … Anything that Natey wants Natey can have! But make sure you’re not home too late so we can play some video games before bed. I’ve downloaded SHOOT THEM, KILL THEM, STEAL THEIR CARS! 3.2,’ she squawked.
‘Epic!’ said Nate, punching the air.
The gruesome woman then turned to her husband. ‘And make sure he eats something sensible before he goes out. There are a few leftover guinea-pig fillets from Sunday lunch and some cold poodle in a Tupperware in the fridge.’
‘Yes, Jaynee dear, of course, dear.’
The horrifying face retreated and the window slammed shut.
‘Right, you!’ thundered the Mayor, giving Artie a shove. ‘In the car! And bring that tortoise, boys!’
Chapter 24
‘This is the place,’ said Nate excitedly. ‘This dump here. And that one next door is the slum where Farty Artie lives.’
Mary, who was driving (having bandaged his nose with a handkerchief held in place with an elastic band) brought the Rolls-Royce to a halt outside the Unpronounceable-enkos’ house.
‘Her parents are losers who talk funny,’ Nate continued. ‘And she’s got a stupid name like Gladwrap or something …’
‘They’re not losers!’ protested Artie. He was sandwiched between Nate and Funnel-web in the back seat. ‘They’re really kind! And her name is Gladys, and it’s a cool name!’
‘Oooooooh!’ cried Nate. ‘Someone seems to be very touchy about his girlfriend …’
‘She’s not my—’ Artie stopped and stared at the floor. There was no point wasting his time bickering with Nate. He was beginning to feel that there was no point trying to fight anything anymore. He felt completely desolate. His only comfort was that if he did as he was told, the gang would leave his family alone, and that it seemed Bumshoe had escaped to safety with Aunty-boy.
Artie listened with tears in his eyes as Mayor Grime began to describe what Artie had to do. ‘You will go to the front door and ask to see this Gladys and give her her tortoise. You will tell her that the wonderful Mayor Grime found him and returned him safely, and that she should come and thank me here at the car. When she does so, we shall be ready, shan’t we, boys?’
‘Oooh yeah!’ ‘Yes, Boss!’ ‘We’ll be here!’ agreed Nate, Mary and Funnel-web.
‘And my banquet will once more be underway!’ The Mayor’s lips curled back. ‘Of course, I needn’t remind you what the penalty will be for any disobedience or
tricks …’
‘No,’ replied Artie in a tiny voice.
‘That’s right,’ whispered the Mayor. ‘We don’t want to have to pay your house a visit as well …’
Nate grinned. ‘His mum’s a loony who never gets out of her pyjamas and his sister always looks like she’s about to smash something. Plus!’ Nate began cackling. ‘His dad was a circus clown! Probably died when some spinning plates landed on his head! Or maybe he fell off his unicycle!’
The gang exploded with laughter. Mayor Grime was doubled over, and looked as if he was about to choke. Long strands of oily hair uncoiled themselves from his bare scalp and flopped about.
‘He wasn’t a clown,’ snapped Artie through his tears. ‘He was a trapeze artist. And a tightrope walker. But he got sick. And he had more bravery in his little toe than you’ll ever have.’ The Mayor stopped laughing. He patted his hairs back into place. Then he lunged towards Artie from the front seat, his face a pencil’s width from the boy’s. Artie blinked in terror.
‘My son has more worth in his little toe than you’ll ever have,’ he seethed. ‘Now I’m very hungry, so get out and get the girl, or the remnants of your family will be receiving a visit.’
Mortified at what he was about to do, but unable to see an escape from it, Artie slid out of the huge car, clutching the little tortoise. Mayor Grime stayed perched in the front passenger seat, but Mary, Funnel-web and Nate moved into the front garden, ready to pounce on Gladys when the time came.
Artie’s mind felt as if it was moving at the speed of light. He trudged up the pathway towards the Unpronounceable-enkos’ front door, shaking and sweating so much that Gareth almost slid out of his hands. He glanced back at the shapes of his tormentors as they ducked behind shrubs and trees in the garden.
For some reason, Artie was still thinking about his dad, and his saying that the best discoveries happen when you take a step into the unknown.
He arrived at Gladys’s front door. Then he turned back to the street. He could see Mayor Grime in the car, furiously signalling at him to get a move on.
Artie and the Grime Wave Page 8
