The Eye of Zoltar

by Jasper Fforde

  ‘You mean make it all up as we go along?’ asked Perkins.

  ‘Right.’

  ‘It’s worked before,’ said Lady Mawgon.

  ‘Many times,’ replied Moobin.

  ‘Quark,’ said the Quarkbeast.

  Tralfamosaur Hunt Part 1: Bait and Lure

  The train that had transported the Tralfamosaur had been derailed about four miles out of Hereford. The locomotive had stayed upright but most of the goods wagons were now lying in an untidy zigzag along the track. There was a huge number of police cars, ambulances and fire engines in attendance, and the night scene was lit by large floodlights erected on towers. A willowy officer named Detective Corbett introduced himself and then escorted us up the track, past the shattered remnants of the goods train.

  ‘The engine driver was the first eaten,’ said Corbett as we stared at the wreckage. ‘See these footprints?’

  He snapped on a torch and pointed at the ground where a Tralfamosaur footprint was clearly visible.

  ‘The creature headed north-east,’ said Moobin after looking at several other footprints. ‘Any reports from the public?’

  ‘Nothing so far,’ said Corbett.

  ‘A Tralfamosaur can be surprisingly stealthy,’ said Lady Mawgon. ‘Discovering one near you and being eaten often happen at pretty much the same time.’

  Corbett looked around nervously.

  ‘The roads are locked down inside a fifty-mile perimeter,’ he said in a hasty ‘I’m leaving pretty soon’ sort of voice, ‘and everyone has been advised to stay indoors, or in a cellar if they have one. Artillery batteries have been set up if it tries to go in the direction of Hereford, and if you are unsuccessful by first light, King Snodd has agreed to send in the landships.’

  ‘What about—’ began Moobin, but Corbett had already gone. We stared at the remnants of the Tralfamosaur’s railway carriage, then looked around. It was a dark night, and only a light breeze stirred the branches of the trees. Of the Tralfamosaur, there was no sign. Sending in the landships was a last resort: four-storey armoured tracked vehicles of immense power, they could overcome everything except Trolls, who impertinently called them ‘Meals on Wheels’.

  ‘I’m not sure a squadron of landships chasing after a single Tralfamosaur would do anything but cause a huge amount of unnecessary damage,’ said Perkins. ‘What’s the next step?’

  ‘No idea,’ said Lady Mawgon. ‘Moobin?’

  ‘Not a clue. Let’s face it, recapturing seventeen tons of pea-brained enraged carnivore isn’t something we do every day. How was it captured last time?’

  ‘Liquorice,’ came a loud voice from behind us, and we jumped.

  ‘I’m sorry?’ said Lady Mawgon.

  ‘Liquorice,’ repeated Once Magnificent Boo, who had just arrived on her moped. We all felt silent. Boo never used more words than was absolutely necessary, rarely smiled and her eyes were so dark they seemed like black snooker balls floating in a bowl of cream.

  ‘If you listen very carefully to my plan we will have the Tralfamosaur recaptured before the break of dawn,’ said Boo. ‘My plan is sound, and if followed to the letter, has a reasonable chance of succeeding without anyone being eaten.’

  ‘Define “reasonable chance”,’ said Lady Mawgon, but Boo ignored her and carried on: ‘We require only a grenade launcher, six pounds of industrial-strength liquorice, two spells of Class VIII complexity, a shipping container, a side of bacon, an automobile, several homing snails, a ladder, and two people to act as bait.’

  Perkins leaned across to me and whispered:

  ‘Boo was kind of looking at us when the “two people as bait” thing came up.’

  ‘I know,’ I whispered back, ‘it’s possible to refuse, but the thing is, who are you more frightened of: Once Magnificent Boo, or a Tralfamosaur?’

  An hour later Perkins and I were in my Volkswagen, parked up near a crossroads on high ground a mile or two from the damaged railway carriage. We could see the stars through the open sunroof, and the pinkish glow of the Quarkbeast where it was sitting on a wall close by, sniffing the air cautiously.

  ‘Enjoying the date so far?’ I asked in a cheery tone.

  ‘It could be improved,’ he replied.

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘Not being used as Tralfamosaur bait, for one thing.’

  ‘Oh, come on,’ I said playfully. ‘It’s a lovely night to be eaten by a nine tons of hunger-crazed monster.’

  Perkins looked up through the open sunroof at the broad swathe of stars above our heads. As if on cue, a shooting star flashed across the sky.

  ‘You’re half right,’ he said with a smile, ‘it’s a lovely night. Crazy or nothing, right?’

  I returned his smile.

  ‘Right: crazy or nothing. Let’s check everything again.’

  I flicked the two glow-worms above the dash with my finger. A faint glimmer of light illuminated the two ‘SpellGo’ buttons that Moobin and Lady Mawgon had placed on the dashboard. Spells could be cast in advance and lie dormant until activated by something as easy to use as a large button. One was labelled ‘Bogeys’ and the second ‘Float’.

  ‘Got the rocket-propelled liquorice launcher handy?’ I asked.

  ‘Check,’ said Perkins, patting the weapon, which, instead of having an explosive warhead, had a lump of industrial-grade liquorice about the size of a melon. It smelled so strongly we had to poke it up out of the sunroof to stop our eyes watering. Tralfamosaurs love liquorice and could smell it from at least a mile away if the wind was strong enough.

  We both jumped as a snail shot in through the open window and skidded to a halt on the inside of the windshield, leaving a slippery trail across the glass. Homing snails were one of Wizard Moobin’s recent discoveries. He had found that all snails have the capacity to do over one hundred miles per hour and find their way to a given location with pinpoint accuracy, but didn’t because they were horribly lazy and couldn’t be bothered. By rewriting a motivating spell commonly used by TV fitness instructors, communication using homing snail was entirely possible – and more reliable than pigeons, which were easily distracted.

  The snail was steaming with the exertion and smelled faintly of scorched rubber, but seemed pleased with itself. We gave it a lettuce leaf, popped it in its box and Perkins opened the note that had been stuck to its shell. It was from Lady Mawgon.

  ‘Reports from worried citizens place the T three miles down the road at Woolhope.’

  Woolhope was the Kingdom’s sixth-largest town and home to twelve thousand people and a Marzoleum processing plant. I had a sudden thought.

  ‘It’s heading for the flare.’

  Marzoleum refineries always had a gas flare alight from a tall tower and it was this, I guessed, that would attract the Tralfamosaur. Brain the size of a ping-pong ball it might have, but when it comes to looking for food at night it was no slouch. Fire and light, after all, generally denoted humans.

  ‘There,’ I said, stabbing my finger on the map near a place called Broadmoor Common, just downwind of Woolhope. ‘He’ll be able to smell us easily from there.’

  I whistled to the Quarkbeast, who jumped into the back of the car, and we were soon hurtling along the narrow roads as fast as we could. It was about 3 a.m. by now, and I drove, I agree, recklessly. The police had locked down the area tight and everyone had been told to stay in their homes, but even so, I was half expecting to run into a tractor or something. I didn’t. I ran into something much worse.

  The Quarkbeast cried out first, a sort of quarky-quark-quarky noise that spelt danger, and almost immediately, my headlights illuminated something nasty and large and reptilian on the road ahead. The Tralfamosaur’s small eyes glinted dangerously as it looked up. It was bigger than I remembered from my occasional visits to the zoo, and it looked significantly more dangerous out in the open.

  There were about fifty yards between it and us and Perkins and I sat there for a moment, the engine of the Beetle idling. It stared at us blankly
for some moments until I realised we were upwind, and it probably wasn’t aware of the liquorice. I slowly backed away, but the Tralfamosaur didn’t follow. Quite against my better judgement I stopped, and then inched slowly forward again. It still didn’t seem that interested.

  ‘Better show yourself,’ I said to Perkins, ‘and try to look appetising.’

  ‘Yes,’ he said sarcastically, ‘I’m well known for my pie impersonations.’

  Perkins took a deep breath, undid his seat belt, stood up through the sunroof and waved his hands. The effect was instantaneous. The Tralfamosaur gave out a deafening bellow, and charged.

  I slammed the car into reverse and swiftly backed away. Luckily there was an open gateway nearby, and I reversed into this, pulled the wheel around, thumped the gear lever into first and drove off with the Tralfamosaur in close pursuit. Part one of the plan was now in operation.

  Tralfamosaur Hunt Part 1: Chase and Capture

  The Tralfamosaur could now smell the liquorice, and it took a wild bite at the car as we accelerated away. We felt the jerk as a single tooth caught in the bodywork, but a moment later the metal split, releasing us. I glanced into the rear-view mirror as we took off back the way we had come, and could see the Tralfamosaur glowing red in the tail-lights as it chased us with a heavy, lumbering gait. Thankfully, a Volkswagen is speedier than a Tralfamosaur, and we maintained a safe distance.

  We took a left at Mordford, then a right over the River Wye, where the Tralfamosaur, now quite hungry, stopped to sniff at the ironically named Tasty Drinker Inn. The Tralfamosaur was so distracted by the smell of citizens hiding inside that we had to reverse almost to within reach of it before the creature changed its mind, and, overcome by the sheer succulence of the liquorice, once again moved after us, knocking over two cars in the car park and demolishing both bridge parapets as it lumbered across.

  ‘Wow,’ said Perkins, watching the spectacle while hanging out of the window, ‘I think I’ve seen everything now.’

  ‘I sincerely wish that were the case,’ I said, ‘but I doubt it. You’re new to the magic industry. Pretty soon, stuff like this will be routine.’

  After another ten minutes I took a tight left turn into a field. I had left the gate open ready and hung an oil lamp on the gatepost so I wouldn’t miss it. I had to slow down to take the corner, however, and the Tralfamosaur, seizing the opportunity, closed his teeth around the rear bumper. The back of the car was lifted high in the air, held there, and then with a tearing noise the bumper ripped off. Almost immediately the car fell back on to the grassy slope with a thump and bounced back into the air. The Quarkbeast was catapulted off the rear seat to hit the roof, where he became stuck fast when his scales got embedded in the steel.

  Undeterred, I put my foot down and aimed the car towards the second pair of oil lamps, positioned where we had removed a length of fencing between the field and the railway.

  ‘Stand by for SpellGo one,’ I yelled as we drove up the stone ballast and on to the railway track, the tyres bumping noisily across the sleepers. Perkins’ hand hovered over the first of the two spell activation buttons.

  ‘Now!’ I shouted and Perkins thumped the one marked ‘Bogeys’. There was a bright flash and a buzzing sensation and the Volkswagen’s wheels were transformed into railway bogeys, that is to say, train wheels. They immediately slotted on to the rails and the ride smoothed out. We were now, technically at least, a train. I didn’t need to steer so let go of the wheel, pressed on the accelerator and looked out of the window.

  The Tralfamosaur was close – and even more angry. It was snapping at us wildly, driven on by the overpowering smell of liquorice.

  And that was pretty much when we entered the Kidley Hill railway tunnel. The Tralfamosaur followed us inside and the engine sound and angry bellows bounced off the tunnel sides to create a noise that I would be happy never to hear again.

  ‘Right,’ I yelled. ‘Timing is everything for this one. I’m on the SpellGo button, you’re on the grenade launcher.’

  ‘Right-o,’ replied Perkins, and shouldered the weapon as he stood up in the sunroof and faced, not the beast, but the other direction – the far tunnel opening we were fast approaching.

  I accelerated to give us some distance between the creature and us, then came to a halt alongside a single green lamp I had left there earlier. I switched off the engine and flashed my headlights. In the distance a light flashed back at us, then stayed on. Perkins took aim at the light with the grenade launcher and flicked off the safety.

  I placed my hand over the SpellGo button marked ‘Float’ and stared out of the broken rear windscreen. I could hear the footfalls of the Tralfamosaur and its panting, but could not see it, and after a few more moments everything went quiet.

  ‘Now?’ asked Perkins, finger hovering on the trigger.

  ‘When I say.’

  ‘How about now?’

  ‘When I say.’

  ‘Has it gone?’

  ‘It’s moved back to stealth mode,’ I whispered. ‘It’s there all right, somewhere in the darkness.’

  I peered into the inky blackness but could still see nothing, then had an idea and stamped on the brake pedal. The brake lights popped on, bringing much-needed extra luminance to the brick-lined railway tunnel. It was a good job they did. The creature was less then ten feet from the rear bumper and I could see its small black eyes staring at us hungrily in the warm red glow.

  ‘Now.’

  There was an explosive detonation as Perkins pulled the trigger, and the liquorice rocket flew down the railway tunnel, illuminating the tunnel sides as it went. There was a metallic thang noise as the rocket hit something. It didn’t explode, of course – the warhead had been replaced with liquorice.

  I thumped the SpellGo button marked ‘Float’. There was another buzzing noise and the car lurched upwards. Not to the roof of the tunnel, of course, as that would not have allowed us to escape, but into one of the three ventilation shafts that connected the railway tunnel to the world outside. The shaft was quite large but even so the Volkswagen bumped against the sides as it rose, eventually pitching forward into a nose-down attitude that offered a good view looking straight down. The car’s headlights now illuminated a confused-looking Tralfamosaur below us, standing on the shiny railway lines. It pondered us for a moment, then followed the trail of liquorice scent left by the grenade launcher. As soon as it vanished, we looked at one another and smiled. We were, for the moment at least, safe.

  We bumped and scraped up the ventilation shaft to finally emerge into the early morning light. Moobin was waiting for us as planned, and a dozen men deputised from the nearest town placed hooks around the bumpers of the now lighter-than-air Volkswagen. The men heaved on the ropes as the car swung around in the breeze, and after a lot of grunting the floating car was tied to the front of two heavy tractors. I breathed a sigh of relief. It had been an exciting and dangerous night. As we sat there for a moment reflecting upon recent events, the Quarkbeast fell from the roof of the car back on to the rear seat with a thump.

  ‘Are all our dates going to be like that?’ said Perkins.

  ‘I hope not,’ I replied with a smile, ‘but it was quite fun, wasn’t it? I mean, it’s not like we were killed or eaten or anything, right?’

  ‘If your idea of a good date is not being killed and eaten, you’ll never be disappointed.’

  And he leaned towards me. I think I may even have leaned towards him, but then a voice rang out from below:

  ‘Are you coming down from there?’

  It was Moobin.

  ‘Another time,’ I whispered.

  A ladder was placed against the car and we climbed down to join Moobin, who congratulated us both before we walked down the hill to the tunnel entrance. A shipping container had been reversed up to the portal, and the Tralfamosaur, urged on by the liquorice grenade fired into the back of its new prison by Perkins, had swiftly been contained. We could hear the sound of contented chewing through the t
hick steel of the container; we had left several slabs of bacon in there for it, as well as half a bison.

  The third part of the plan was soon completed; the floating Beetle had been hauled down the hill and anchored to the shipping container with self-tying string. The Tralfamosaur was now fast asleep and snoring, pretty much worn out after the night’s excitement, something that could be said for most of us.

  ‘A fine job,’ said Once Magnificent Boo in a rare moment of congratulation, although you wouldn’t know it from looking at her – her mood seemed as dark as normal.

  She then climbed the ladder to the Volkswagen, gauged the speed of the wind, slammed the door and ordered the ladder away.

  ‘Ahoy, Moobin and Lady Mawgon,’ she called out, ‘I need Jenny’s car to be another fifteen tons lighter.’

  The two sorcerers complied, and with a straining of wires and creaking from my car, the Volkswagen lifted the container into the air. Within a few seconds the breeze had caught the strange flying machine and it was over the treetops and drifting away in an easterly direction. I joined Moobin and Lady Mawgon, who were also watching my VW rise rapidly into the dawn sky.

  ‘She’s a bit high for just going to the zoo,’ I said.

  Moobin and Lady Mawgon said nothing, and I figured out then what was happening.

  ‘She’s not going back to the zoo, is she?’

  ‘No,’ said Moobin quietly, ‘she’s carrying the Tralfamosaur across the border to the Cambrian Empire. They have wild Tralfamosaurs there and it can do … whatever it is Tralfamosaurs do.’

  ‘I’m not sure the King will be pleased,’ said Perkins. ‘The Tralfamosaur was a valuable tourist attraction for the Kingdom and one of his personal favourites, even after the Queen insisted he stopped feeding his enemies to it.’

  ‘The Queen was very wise to do that,’ Moobin replied, ‘but I don’t believe Once Magnificent Boo gives two buttons for what the King thinks.’

  And with the dawn sky lightening, we watched the Volkswagen with the shipping container slung below it drift high into the early morning. Pretty soon it was high enough to catch the sun, and it was suddenly a blaze of orange.