The Warrior Sheep Go West (11 page)

The Countdown

There you are, darling,” said Holly Boomberg to her husband. “My plan worked. They've ridden right into my trap.”

Stanley didn't believe her for a minute.
He
was the clever one. His wife was just lucky. And rich, of course, which was the same thing. He didn't
want
humans. But he had no choice now. He turned to a quickly arriving group of men and women in white coats.

“Get the boy and the old woman weighed and measured straight away,” he barked. “And recalculate the loads.”

“You're going to use humans?” said one of the women, her eyes wide in disbelief.

“Don't ask questions, just do it,” snapped the Professor. “My wife failed to get the sheep I wanted.”

Holly felt deeply hurt but bit her lip and tried not to show it. Her husband, she reminded herself, was a genius on the brink of his most daring experiment. The moment had come to set light to all the money she'd piled on him and his cleverness. He was bound to be feeling tense and snappy just now. Success and fame were just minutes away. For both of them.

Tod found himself being pulled to his feet by the people in white coats. More of them had hold of his gran.

“What's going on?” he shouted.

“You are,” replied Holly, regaining her composure. “You're going on a journey.” She nodded at one of the white coats. “Look after the nags,” she ordered.

She led the way into the vast man-made cavern, followed by her husband and Tod and Ida, who were being frog-marched along by two white coats each. Several white coats hurried in front and even more came behind. Holly suddenly stopped and nodded and smiled at her husband.

“This is Professor Stanley Boomberg, by the way,” she said. “Creator of this secret place. And it's him you have to thank.”

“For what?” said Tod.

“The chance to be part of Boom Day.”

Stanley smiled, then glanced at his wrist computer. Holly took the hint and marched on, finally reaching a set of double doors marked PREPARATION ROOM. The doors swung open automatically and the Boombergs marched through. The white coats pushed their prisoners in behind.

Tod quickly scanned his new surroundings. They were in a small room with glass walls. Through the glass walls he could see an enormous, dimly lit space, where banks of computers were manned by more white coats with tense expressions. The digital wall clocks were clicking, and he could hear an automated voice speaking the countdown aloud.

In the very middle of the space, beyond the computers, stood a cone-shaped structure, about the size of Gran's garden shed, draped in a white cloth. Looking up, Tod saw that the roof of the cavern above was perfectly domed. And there was something else very odd about the roof: it was cracked in a straight line down the center, and the crack was slowly widening. The roof was rolling back, allowing a thin shaft of daylight to cut through.

“Take a seat,” said the Professor, giving Tod a little shove.

Tod turned his attention back to the room. In the middle were two padded chairs, like those at the dentist's. They were fixed side by side and surrounded by machines with wires.

“Just a few checks and tests before we install you,” continued the Professor. “We have to rebalance everything because you're not sheep.”

“Where
are
our sheep?” asked Gran, struggling as a couple of white coats pushed her roughly into one of the chairs.

The Professor shrugged. “Wherever dead sheep go, I guess.”

“Dead?” Gran stopped struggling. “
Dead?
”

She was already looking frail and tired after her heroic drive. Now she collapsed into the chair. Tod's anger boiled over. He writhed and kicked and it took the combined strength of both Boombergs plus several white coats to snap a seat harness across his chest, pinning him to the other chair.

“What's all this about?” he demanded. “What are you up to?”

“My husband,” answered Holly, straightening up and looking down at Tod, “has invented a new type of rocket. It can go farther and faster than any rocket ever before.”

Stanley nodded with more modesty than he felt.

“
And
,” continued his wife, “he has also discovered a new planet.” She beamed with pride. “He's named it Petunia. Because that's my middle name.”

The white coat standing nearest to Tod raised her eyebrows.

“Should be Bossyboots really,” she muttered under her breath.

“I calculate that this new planet's a lot like Earth,” said the Professor, ignoring the white coat. “Florida, actually. But before I can be sure, I need to conduct some survival experiments. Using live species, of course.”

“That was why we wanted your sheep,” added Holly. “The Professor has devised a number of data-gathering tasks, which the creatures he sends must complete before they're allowed food. He needs animals that are bright but not too bright.”

Stanley was nodding in agreement as he checked dials on the machines. His wife was managing to explain his amazingly complex work in quite simple terms. He almost liked her for a moment.

“It's a pity about your sheep,” he said with a shrug. “The instruments we attached to their ears were highly advanced. They'd have transmitted some very useful information and pictures.”

“Never mind, darling.” Holly was almost jigging up and down with excitement. Stanley had never seen her so…unHolly-like. “The world is about to be amazed,” she declared. “Professor Stanley Boomberg,
my
husband, will be hailed as the greatest egghead in the universe!”

“Egghead, dear?” questioned the Professor, with a pained smile.

“Sorry, darling. Scientific genius.”

“You're mad,” gasped Tod.

“Nothing wrong with being mad,” said Stanley. “So long as you're right.”

“
Lots
of people have called my husband mad,” said Holly, doing a little twirl. “All the scientists he's ever worked with called him mad. But they're merely jealous, because they haven't discovered the new Florida. Tomorrow he will be famous.
I
will be famous. The name Boomberg will be famous.” She held a finger poised over a button on the arm of Tod's chair. “May I?” she asked.

The Professor nodded indulgently. Holly pressed the button. The glass wall between the smaller room and the main chamber slid open, and both chairs began to move. The people in white coats looked up from their screens and clapped as the chairs carried Gran and Tod smoothly toward the covered cone shape beyond the computers.

“You can't send my gran into space!” yelled Tod.

Holly was walking proudly beside his moving chair and he grabbed her arm fiercely.

“Send me, but let Gran go! She's too old.”

“She might enjoy Petunia,” cooed Holly. “Lots of people retire to Florida. And you'd better get used to it too.” She shook her arm free and gave Tod's hand a little pinch. “Did we forget to tell you? The rocket can only carry enough fuel to get there. It will never come back.”

The chairs came to a halt. Peering down, Tod saw that they had reached the edge of a deep shaft. He could now see that the cone shape wasn't actually sitting
on
the cavern floor at all. It was joined to a tubular body that descended into the shaft. Its base was somewhere far below. What he was facing was just the tip of the tube: the nose cone of a huge space rocket. Short metal walkways bridged the gap between the cavern floor and the cloth-draped cone.

Tod gulped and looked upward. The dome-shaped roof of the cavern had completely rolled back now, and he could see a perfect circle of blue sky directly above the rocket.

Stanley smiled over Tod's head at his wife.

“Tell the guys to skip a few thousand from the countdown, dear,” he said. “Let's breathe some fire.”

“Let's breathe some fire!” shouted Holly into a nearby microphone. “Let's Boom!”

Oxo's Last Charge

The warriors had been trotting in single file through rocky tunnels for what seemed like hours. They were all nervous underground and wishing they could see the burning sun instead of the dim ceiling lights.

Wills hoped against hope that they wouldn't round a narrow corner and come face to face with Red Tongue. They would have to do battle with him one by one, and he didn't fancy their chances in that situation.

“Ohmygrass,” whispered Jaycey. “I can hear something…”

They stopped to listen. Somewhere ahead of them a voice, not quite human, was intoning numbers:

“Two hundred and ninety-nine…Two hundred and ninety-eight…Two hundred and ninety-seven…”

Sal gulped in horror. “Is that
it
counting?” she asked. “As it eats the poor sheep it's captured?”

They peered into the dimness of the tunnel. A hot, burning smell now filled their nostrils and someone or some
thing
was roaring.

“Ohmygrass…ohmygrass,” whimpered Jaycey. “Have we got to go on?”

“Sure smells like the breath of the Red Tongue dude…” muttered Links.

Then there was another sound.

“Grannnnnn!” Tod's anguished wail echoed along the tunnel.

“That sounded human, eh,” said Links, his eyes wide and scared.

“It
sounded
like Tod,” said Wills. “But it couldn't be. He's safe back home in Eppingham.” He shook his head, trying to think clearly. “Well, Sal…
do
we go on?”

“Are we warriors?” Sal cried.

She squeezed past the others to the front and marched on down the tunnel. Links brought up the rear. He was just as frightened as the rest, but his voice rang out boldly.

“Red Tongue, you said to remember your name,

Now the time has come to finish your game.

We was called out here by the Songs of the Fleece,

And until you's gone we won't get no peace…”

Not far from the marching warriors, in the huge cavern now open to the sky, Tod and Gran could do nothing but stare at the little ceremony that was taking place. Tod was silent now after his shout of despair. The Professor, with an excited gleam in his eye, was about to cut the cord holding the white cloth over the rocket's nose.

“Ready?” he asked. “It's going to be a big surprise.”

Holly nodded. She rather hoped her husband had painted her face on the rocket's nose cone. How wonderful that would be. Holly Petunia Boomberg, immortalized as her image sped heavenward.

“I'm ready, dear,” she said.

The Professor cut the cord and the cloth was whisked away. Holly had to bite her lip again to hide her disappointment. Bite it very hard. Stanley didn't notice.

“Isn't it fantastic?” he said, above the polite applause from the watching white coats.

The rocket had been painted to look like a fierce dog's head, with bloodshot eyes, drawn-back ears, and a black nose. The jaws, which were wide open, formed a doorway into the rocket. Looking into the darkness beyond the doorway was like looking into the mouth of a gigantic hound. Two rows of sharp white teeth had been painted inside the doorway, one at the top and one at the bottom, and beneath it lolled a huge painted red tongue.

“I'm a great football fan,” explained the Professor, leaning down to talk to Tod. “The Prairie Dogs, you know? I thought it would be kind of nice for Red Tongue to be way up there, looking down on the Rams.” He checked his wrist computer. “This is it,” he said, stepping back from the chairs. “Come on, honey, stand away now.”

The chairs, with Tod and Ida strapped in place, slid across the bridge over the deep shaft, and through the narrow door into the nose cone.

At that moment, the warriors emerged from the end of their long, winding tunnel. They stood blinking in the sudden daylight. The smell of burning choked their lungs.

“At last,” whispered Sal. “Red Tongue!”

“Ohmygreengreengrass…Look at the size of him,” wailed Jaycey.

“And that's only his head,” growled Oxo.

“I can sure smell his stinkin' breath now!” cried Links.

Wills blinked and shook his head. This didn't look like a monster dog to him, but there was no chance to check.

“Your slaughtering days are over, mate!” yelled Oxo. “One for five and five for Red Tongue!”

“Red Tongue…Red Tongue…Red Tongue…!” they all screamed.

Oxo pawed the ground. “Wait for it…” He lowered his great head. “Charge!”

The warriors thundered toward the rocket's nose cone, their heads down, their hearts on fire. Their heads all hit it at once and the cone wobbled slightly.

“And again!” cried Oxo, backing up rapidly, forgetting his earlier experience of falling tail first down a very deep hole. “Charge!”

The sheep thundered into the nose cone again.

Panic had erupted amongst the humans on the other side of the cone. They came running.

“You said they were dead!” shouted Stanley, as a sheep hurtled past his legs.

“Must I take the blame for everything?” screamed back Holly, racing after the warriors. “Just catch them, you stupid egghead!”

But she was on her own.

“One hundred and fifty-three…”

Stanley heard the countdown, glanced at his wrist computer, and ran back the other way. The rest of the white coats followed his example.

Oxo was in mid-charge when Holly threw herself at him, taking him by surprise. He turned to butt and bite, but she was mad with rage, fury giving her the strength of ten men. She managed to turn him on his back and made for the nose-cone door, dragging the struggling ram with her.

“One hundred and thirty-nine…”

“Excellent,” panted Holly, shoving the kicking but near-helpless ram in beside the astronauts' chairs. “Sheep as well. A perfect ending.”

She turned to back out of the capsule, only to find her perfect ending turning suddenly imperfect: Tod had wriggled half-free of his chair harness. He grabbed her hair, pulling her back inside.

“Abort the takeoff!” he shouted. “Tell them to stop or you're coming with us!”

As she tried to free herself, Holly was aware of the capsule door hissing shut. Beyond, in the control room, the countdown continued despite the sudden unscientific turn of events.

“Professor! Do we abort?” cried the white coats.

Professor Boomberg gazed at the confused pictures being relayed from inside the capsule and shook his head.

“No. Raise the heat shield.”

“But your wife's in there, sir!”

“It's the way she'd have wanted to go…” murmured the Professor.

And he couldn't resist a smile.

The other warriors hadn't seen Staple Gun Woman throw herself at Oxo. Their heads had been down for the next charge. All they saw was the great ram disappearing into the jaws of the great dog.

“Ohmygrass…” wailed Jaycey. “Red Tongue's eaten Oxo!”

“Nineteen…Eighteen…Seventeen…”

“Another charge…” cried Sal. “For Oxo's sake!”

The warriors reversed rapidly, then lowered their heads like the fighting machine that they were, and waited for the word from Sal. None of them saw the heat shield, a thick wall of tinted glass, begin to rise out of the floor.

“Charge!” Sal tried to sound like Oxo, proud and strong.

They all crashed painfully into the heat shield.

Inside the capsule, Oxo had squirmed upright. He stared around.

“It's not what I expected a dog's insides to look like,” he muttered.

Then he saw Tod and Ida as well as a yelping Staple Gun Woman, and he gave up thinking. Tod and Ida! It was all too confusing. He leaned sideways and bit Staple Gun Woman's bottom.

“That's for the itchy ear,” he said.