Bumageddon: The Final Pongflict (11 page)

‘Okay,' said his bum. ‘I'll stop . . .' Zack released his bum's arm. It immediately leapt at the guide and started fighting again. ‘I'll stop when it's dead!'

‘Zack! Control your bum!' said Eleanor, picking up the small pink bum and holding it above her head while Zack's bum jumped up and down underneath it, snapping angrily. ‘Leave it alone, you maniac!' she said, booting Zack's bum in the left cheek.

‘You stay out of this,' said Zack's bum. ‘This is between us—it's got nothing to do with you!'

‘That's where you're wrong,' said Eleanor. ‘It's got everything to do with me.'

‘Oh yeah?' said Zack's bum. ‘And why is that?'

‘Because,' said Eleanor.

‘Because why?' said Zack's bum.

‘Because,' said Eleanor, ‘it's
my bum.
'

E
leanor's words stopped the fight more effectively than any number of buckets of cold water could have.

‘
Your
bum?' said Zack's bum.

‘
Your
bum?' said Zack.

‘
Your
bum?' said Ned.

‘
Your
bum?' said Robobum.

‘
Your
bum?' said Eleanor's bum.

‘Yes,' said Eleanor. ‘
My
bum.'

‘B
ut . . . but . . . why didn't you say anything?' said Eleanor's bum. ‘Didn't you recognise me?'

‘I recognised you straight away,' said Eleanor. ‘I wanted to say something, but I didn't know how to. Or how you'd feel about me. I thought you might be angry.'

‘Angry?' said her bum, reddening. ‘Who, me?
Angry
? Why should I be
angry
? I only tried to serve you as well as I knew how. I only tried to be there for you when you needed me. I only tried to be a good, solid, reliable, honest bum and what did I get for my trouble? What did I get for my pain? What did I get for doing all the work that no other part of your body would—or could—do? I'll tell you what I got—chucked into a rubbish bin, without so much as a thank-you note! So why should I be angry? Of course I'm not angry. In fact, I don't think I can remember when I've ever felt quite so
not-angry
!'

‘I'm sorry,' said Eleanor. ‘But I didn't realise what I was doing. When the Great White Bum killed my mother I knew I had to become a bum-fighter and that would mean having to get a false bum . . . I didn't know then what I know now: that bum-fighters and their bums can work together. That a bum can be a bum-fighter's best friend.'

‘So that's all you want me back for,' said her bum.
‘To make you a better bum-fighter. You just don't get it, do you?'

‘No, that's not what I meant!' said Eleanor. ‘I can understand how you feel, but . . .'

‘No, you can't,' said her bum. ‘You have no idea how it feels to be abandoned. But don't worry, you soon will.'

‘What do you mean?' said Eleanor.

‘Robobum!' said Eleanor's bum. ‘Stop immediately! I'm getting off.'

‘Affirmative,' said Robobum. ‘Setting down now!'

‘But you can't get off,' said Eleanor.

‘And why not?' said Eleanor's bum.

‘Because we'll never find the Crack of Doom without you!' said Eleanor.

‘And?' said her bum.

‘And what?' said Eleanor.

‘And?' repeated her bum.

‘And because you're my bum,' said Eleanor. ‘I need you.'

‘Right answer,' said her bum, ‘just a little bit too late. Goodbye, Eleanor. I'm sorry it didn't work out between us.'

‘Robobum has landed,' said Robobum. ‘Safe to depart.'

‘Teleport me out, please, Robobum,' said Eleanor's bum.

Eleanor watched sadly as her bum disappeared under the light.

‘Good riddance, I say,' muttered Zack's bum quietly. But not quietly enough.

‘Shut up!' snarled Eleanor. ‘Or . . . or . . .'

‘Or what?' said Zack's bum.

‘Or else,' said Eleanor.

‘Did you hear that, Zack?' said his bum. ‘She threatened me.'

‘
Shut up
!' said Zack.

E
leanor glared fiercely at Zack's bum. ‘You're nothing but a troublemaker,' she said. ‘How are we supposed to find the Crack of Doom now?'

‘Hey, don't blame me,' said Zack's bum. ‘It's your bum that's the troublemaker.'

‘How dare you!' said Eleanor. ‘
You're
the one who fell asleep on your watch. And if my memory serves me correctly, wasn't it
you
who ran away in the first place to help the Great White Bum build his bumcano? And you have the nerve to call
my
bum a troublemaker?'

‘Easy, Eleanor,' said Zack. ‘That's all in the past now.'

‘And in case you hadn't noticed, chucklehead,' said Eleanor. ‘So are we! We're stuck here without a map and now, thanks to your bum, no guide either!'

‘Negative,' said Robobum. ‘That is not correct. I can act as your guide.'

‘But you've never been here before,' said Eleanor.
‘You might have a BPS
*
system, but there are no satellites here—they haven't been invented yet. So as far as I can figure you're as lost as the rest of us.'

‘Negative,' said Robobum. ‘Although my BPS is currently not functioning, I am equipped with many other features. Let me remind you that I am Robobum. Fully riveted reinforced steel cheeks. Turbo-assisted jet repulsion units. Nuclear wart-head equipped . . .'

‘Spare us the details,' interrupted Eleanor.

‘As you please,' said Robobum, undaunted by Eleanor's abruptness. ‘My sensors indicate an abnormal concentration of methane in the mountainous region to our north-east. I believe this is where the Crack of Doom will be found.'

‘How can you be sure?' said Ned. ‘With all these prehistoric bums running around, wouldn't there be an abnormal concentration of methane over the entire planet?'

‘The molecular signature of this particular methane is almost identical to that emitted by the Great White Bum,' said Robobum. I believe there is a 95 per cent probability of it belonging to a large number of the same types of Great White Bum. Furthermore, it almost exactly corresponds with coordinates of where the arseteroid that wiped out life on Earth hit. Given that all but one of the Great White Bumosaurs was destroyed in that impact it strongly suggests this is the spot.'

‘All right then,' said Zack. ‘What are we waiting for?'

Eleanor shrugged.

Ned nodded. ‘Proceed to the Crack of Doom, Robobum,' he said.

‘Affirmative!' said Robobum, roaring into action. ‘Prepare for lift-off.'

Zack grabbed a handrail as Robobum rose into the air. But as fast as she had risen, Robobum returned to the ground.

‘What's the matter, Robobum?' said Ned.

‘Sorry,' said Robobum. ‘I seem to be experiencing some difficulty. Prepare for relaunch.'

Robobum rose into the air again, higher this time, but only for a few seconds before crashing to the ground once more.

‘Lift-off status report!' said Ned.

‘My undercarriage appears to be stuck,' said Robobum.

‘Full thrust!' said Ned. ‘Give it everything you've got.'

‘Affirmative!' said Robobum, drawing on every bit of her nuclear stinkant-juice powered twin-injected nitro-assisted engine's power.

Zack and Eleanor both put their fingers in their ears to block out the deafening roar.

But still Robobum remained earth-bound.

‘Negative,' said Robobum. ‘Robobum is immobilised. Recommend extra-vehicular excursion to establish and remove cause.'

‘I'll go,' volunteered Zack.

‘Good on you, Zack,' said his bum, jumping up and slapping him on the back. ‘I knew we could count on you.'

‘You're coming with me, you know,' said Zack. ‘I'm not going out there without backup. It's dangerous.'

‘That's exactly why I'd prefer to remain here,' said
his bum. ‘Why don't you take Eleanor? She'll be more use to you.'

‘Don't push your luck,' said Eleanor with quiet menace.

Zack's bum saw the look in her eyes. ‘When do we leave?' it said.

‘Right now,' said Zack.

*
Bum positioning system. See glossary.

‘W
ow!' said Zack as he and his bum materialised onto the ground in front of Robobum. ‘Would you look at that!'

Robobum was perched on the edge of a deep canyon.

‘That's some crack,' said his bum admiringly.

‘It's so deep!' said Zack, trying to see the bottom.

‘It's so wide!' said his bum.

Zack stared down into it for so long that he began to feel light-headed. He had to force himself to stop looking and concentrate on the job at hand.

It wasn't too hard to see why Robobum was unable to lift off.

She was caught in a messy tangle of pale grey vines. The vines were attached to a clump of trees and rocks and stretched right across the canyon like a
giant spider web, except that the strands were as thick as rope.

‘This stuff is everywhere,' said Zack's bum. ‘What do you think it is?'

‘Looks like some sort of vine or creeper,' said Zack, taking a piece in his hand. ‘Pretty strong. And sticky, too. No wonder Robobum couldn't break free.'

Zack took his Bum-fighters' Army pocket knife out of his utility belt and began cutting.

It was hard work.

The vines were tough. They were made up of millions of strands wound tightly around each other to form a powerful bond.

As Zack cut slowly through the first vine—practically strand by strand—he was grateful for the stinkant juice, which had left a greasy coating on his hands. It allowed him to handle the vines without getting stuck to them.

He was halfway through cutting a second vine when he heard a voice.

It was a long way away, but definitely a voice.

‘Can you hear that?' said Zack.

‘Yes,' said his bum. ‘And I can see where it's coming from, too.'

It pointed to the middle of the canyon.

Zack squinted.

There was something moving on the vines.

‘Do you think it's Eleanor's bum?' said Zack.

‘No,' said Zack's bum. ‘It's not the right colour.

And it's too big.'

‘Do you think it's in trouble?' said Zack.

‘It sounds like it,' said Zack's bum.

‘Do you think we should help it?' said Zack.

‘Definitely not,' said Zack's bum. ‘It's totally off mission. I think we should just cut Robobum free and get out of here.'

‘But,' said Zack, ‘we can't just leave it there!'

‘Yes, we can,' said Zack's bum, hacking into the vine. ‘This is a dangerous place. If we get distracted, we die.'

They heard the strange gurgling cry again.

Zack looked at his bum. ‘What if it was you out there?' he said.

‘But it's not me,' said his bum.

‘I know that,' said Zack. ‘But
what if it was
? You'd want to be rescued, wouldn't you?'

‘Y-yes . . .' said his bum. ‘But . . .'

‘Then that settles it,' said Zack. ‘We're going.'

F
ive minutes later Zack was crawling across the sticky vines towards the struggling figure, his bum perched on his shoulder.

‘Gee,' said his bum, looking down into the canyon. ‘I'd hate to fall.'

‘That makes two of us,' said Zack.

‘It's
such
a long way down,' said his bum.

‘Yep,' said Zack, gripping the vine tightly.

‘You'd end up totally splattered,' said his bum. ‘Splattered just like a rotten watermelon dropped from a . . .'

‘Would you shut up!' said Zack, grimacing. ‘You're not helping!'

Zack was all too well aware of how high they were.

And how far down they could fall.

But he was doing his best not to think about it. He was just climbing slowly—and very carefully—across the vines towards the moaning figure.

‘What's it saying?' said Zack's bum, as they crawled closer.

‘I don't know,' said Zack. ‘I don't know what language it's speaking. I don't even know what it is.'

It didn't seem to resemble anything he'd ever seen before—man, beast or bum—but, whatever it was, it was definitely trying to communicate with them.

It appeared to be made of flesh. Flesh that had been pulverised and mashed and then moulded into the rough shape of a man.

And it stunk.

Bad.

Really
bad.

Although he was no stranger to bad smells, Zack gagged as they drew up close to the horrible creature. It appeared to be trying to form words, but was having great trouble doing so because its mouth was so crudely formed—like a hole in a piece of dough.

‘Can you make out what it's saying now?' said Zack's bum.

‘Something about great danger, I think,' said Zack.

‘Um, Zack . . .' said his bum, the blood rushing from its cheeks, leaving it white and trembling and—for once—speechless.

‘What's the matter?' said Zack. ‘Are you all right?'

His bum just pointed to the far side of the canyon.

An enormous black shape was moving across the vines towards them.

An enormous black shape with two bulbous domes and eight legs.

Zack didn't have Ned's
What Bumosaur is That?
guide, but he didn't need it. He could see that it was a bumantula.

A
giant prehistoric
bumantula.