falling star

falling star

Daniel Park & David Young

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the monkey tales trilogy: three monkeys falling star blast from the past rapture

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falling star daniel park & david young

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Prologue The three brothers lingered for a moment, gazing around at the death and destruction that had been the subject of legend since time began. The grounds of Hades glowed an angry red, flames burst through cracks in the floor and walls, the agonizing screams of tortured souls rang through the air. It was exactly as the brothers remembered. Ahead of them stood the imposing fortress that Satan himself liked to call home and it was he that the brothers had been summoned to see.

“He is still as modest as ever, I see,” said the first, unimpressed, “and why does he call himself ‘Red Man’ these days? I would have thought ‘Satan’ was a far more sinister name for him.” His

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brothers shot him a look of derision and he fell silent.

“What of this deal he wishes to make with us?” asked the second, “what could he possibly offer us that we do not already have?”

“If you both shut up for more than five minutes, we might get to find out,” answered the third, striding forward and through the massive wooden doors that stood open before them. His two brothers followed without another word.

They found themselves inside a courtyard, every inch of the walls lined with human skulls; jaws open in an eternal scream, all manner of indescribable creatures crawling between the eye sockets and through the noiseless screams.

Beneath the ground they could hear the roar of fearsome unseen creatures as they tore into the flesh of the damned, tearing the unfortunates limb from limb. The brothers looked at each other and smiled.

“Gentlemen!” called their host as he crossed the courtyard before them, “so glad you could make it!”

“Quite,” said the third brother, “it is rare for us to receive an invitation to your palace these days, although it remains a true honour.”

The Red Man forced a weak smile. “I hope you like what I have done with the place,” he said, “it reminds me of the good old days. Come, let me show you around!”

“To be honest Satan, we have much work to do,” said the second brother, “as much as we would 8

love a guided tour, we think it would be more beneficial if you could get to the point and tell us what you want us for.”

The Red Man laughed heartily, “You never were the most patient, were you, Charon? I often wonder why the Over-Worlders get the impression that you never speak?”

Charon shrugged his shoulders. “Not much call for conversation in my line of business.”

“How true you are,” said the Red Man, turning his back on the brothers, “if you would care to follow me, we can discuss my proposal in comfort.” He walked across the courtyard towards another large oak door, followed by the three brothers who were, by now, growing a little uncomfortable. It was not the surroundings or the stench of death that made them uneasy; they were used to those things by now. It was due to the reputation of the Red Man these days, ruthless and devious as ever, but now more determined and bitter in his never-ending quest to destroy Earth. The tales of his never-ending battles with Monkey the sock puppet were legendary. His reputation as the Lord of the Underworld had become tarnished over the years, the Gods had begun to ridicule him because of his inability to outwit a sock puppet.

And, as the Red Man had requested the brothers specifically to assist him in his next attempt to rule the world, that could surely only mean trouble.

And possibly a large rather stain on their own reputations.

Through the door, they found themselves inside an expansive banquet hall, lined with vermilion 9

velvet. A huge oak table ran through the centre of the room, almost entirely covered in food and wine presented on silver chargers. Charon immediately tore into a roast of wild boar and sat to the table. He gazed around the room almost in awe of the sheer audacity of the interior design, which bordered on Neo-Gothic meets Elton John.

Dozens of flaming torches adorned the walls and a huge chandelier hung from the ceiling, catching the light from the flames and sending it dancing throughout the room. The Red Man, seated at the head of the table, signaled for the remaining brothers to be seated.

“I sense your reluctance,” he growled, “though I can assure you, what I am offering will be of mutual benefit to us all. Please, allow me to explain.”

“Before you explain,” said the first brother, “what is in it for me?”

The Red Man smiled, staring into his lifeless eyes.

“For you, dear Thanatos, the world.”

Thanatos felt a little uncomfortable as he returned the stare for several minutes until he found that he could no longer keep it up. He slumped back into his chair. “I’m listening,” he muttered.

“Gentlemen, I need your help. For far too long, Monkey and his friends have prevented me from achieving my ultimate goal, to rid the world of all that is good. As you have no doubt heard, I have found it difficult to destroy him on several occasions.”

“He kicked your arse, you mean?” snorted Charon. His brothers looked at him coldly and he 10

fell silent once more, tearing another slab of boar from the bone.

“Indeed,” said the Red Man, “although this time, I shall not be defeated.”

The third man leaned forward, frowning, “Forgive my ignorance, Lord Satan, but why would you need our help? You are the all-powerful ruler of Hades and we are but minor Gods. If indeed you are having difficulties in defeating Monkey, I should imagine we would find it equally as difficult, if not more so.”

The Red Man nodded in agreement. “As ever, Hypnos, you are correct in your thoughts.

However, I believe I have the perfect plan to destroy Monkey and his friends and I need you to serve as a distraction while I complete my preparations.”

Hypnos sat back in his chair and rubbed his chin in thought. “Tell me more of this plan,” he mused.

The Red Man smiled. He knew that if he could convince Hypnos to help, the others would quickly follow. “Well, gentlemen, I have in my possession the legendary Book of the Past.”

The brothers looked at each other in silence and the Red Man paused, reveling in the admiration that ought to follow for acquiring such a book. The brothers, however, failed to drop to their knees in worship at his achievement and he felt a little deflated.

“As you know, the volume itself is most powerful, allowing me to change any single point in history,” he continued, “however, I am led to believe that the Book of the Past has the ability to lead me to 11

the Book of the Future and, once both books are reunited, I will have the power to alter history and the future. The possibilities this will present me with are endless!”

“Until Monkey kicks your arse again,” interrupted Charon.

“Yes, I hardly think your attitude is helpful,” growled the Red Man, “though it does lead me to an important point. Monkey will quickly become aware of the Book of the Past and as such, I will have little time to find the Book of the Future.”

“You want me to kill Monkey?” asked Thanatos, excitedly.

“A charming thought, however I believe that killing Monkey at this stage would hinder my plans. I hold the Book of the Past here in my fortress and, were Monkey to die, his soul would pass through the Underworld and he may find an opportunity to retrieve the book. No, instead, I need him alive and out of the way.”

Thanatos tried to hide the disappointment by looking around the room. He noticed a vase of black roses at the opposite end of the table and decided to examine them more closely.

“So, let us say that my brothers and I were to distract Monkey for long enough to find the Book of the Future,” he said, without looking up from the blooms, “what happens next?”

“Quite simply, I rewrite the past, present and future in the books and delete all that ever was, is or will be good. With no guidance from the forces of good, the world will descend into chaos and

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anarchy, leaving the world free for the three of you to rule.”

Thanatos picked up one of the roses, which instantly withered and died with his touch. He cursed himself, that sort of thing happened every time he touched a living thing.

“Sounds interesting,” said Hypnos, “and whilst we appreciate the offer, there is something not quite right about it all. What exactly do you get out of this?”

The Red Man laughed, “merely the satisfaction of destroying Monkey and his friends. Simply by turning the world evil, I will have achieved my objectives and I will have no further use of the world. As evil will prevail, the Underworld will be the only path for souls to travel and I will rule over them in death, just as you rule over them in life.”

Thanatos re-joined his brothers at the table, wiping the remains of the dusty rose on his trousers. Everyone remained silent. The Red Man sat back into his chair and smiled warmly as he turned up the charm offensive.

“Just one thing,” said Charon at last, “do you really think that Zeus will allow you to do this? If he finds out, he’ll kick your arse harder than Monkey ever could.”

A wide smile spread over the Red Man’s face.

“Zeus will not interfere,” he said, reaching into a drawer in the table. He took out a large envelope and threw it onto the table in front of Charon.

Intrigued and slightly amused, Charon opened the envelope to find a series of photographs inside.

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He browsed through the photographs, eyebrow raised in amusement and laughed heartily.

“So Zeus has been a bad boy, huh? Who is the woman?”

“That, dear boys, is Aphrodite, goddess of Love and Beauty, wife of Hephaestus. Of course, infidelity is a sin, and sin is punished in the afterlife by spending an eternity in Hades with me.

Poor Zeus, even he is not above the law, I have him over a barrel. He neither wants to spend an eternity here in purgatory nor face Hephaestus.

So you see, gentlemen, I have everything covered. I just need your approval and we can set the wheels in motion.”

The three brothers looked at each other and nodded.

“We’re in,” said Hypnos, “what do you want us to do?”

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One Snuggled deep within the soft heart of her room, tinctured as duskily pink as a sugared almond, a happy little girl smiled sleepily as her father floated in, reflected by the cozy glow of the nightlight. Her mother smiled down dreamily, the heavy-lidded lowing of fulfilled maternal content.

"Have you come to read me my bed-time story?" yawned the little girl. Bedtime stories had become a necessity recently since the little girl had begun her strange sleeping habits. She had found it very easy to fall to sleep at any time, night or day, and had become increasingly difficult to wake each time. Doctors were baffled by the conditions, testing her for sleep apnoea, narcolepsy and various other medical conditions but were yet to make an accurate diagnosis.

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"Yes, my beautiful Princess."

"If I'm a Princess, then you must be the King."

Father smiled encouragingly.

"You sit on a golden throne all day," continued the little girl.

"Well, it's like I said..." started mother.

"Yes, I know, you told me mummy. You and I have two legs and daddy has four wheels," came the simple statement.

Bernard van Bookshelf smiled, a tear forming in the rim of his monocled eyelid. "How beautiful and true the young really are,” he thought to himself.

Some time ago, Bernard had explained to his daughter how he had been confined to his wheelchair since the terrible fall from a shelf in his library, ironically labeled “Health and Safety”, many years ago.

Above his daughter’s little white bedstead, Kieran span the pony mobile for her to wonder at, as his spouse opened up the storybook. Somehow, it had seemed perfectly natural for Kieran to adopt the role of Mother in the partnership between Bernard and himself and he took great pleasure in being called “mummy”, something that had seemed so unlikely for so many years. He smiled lovingly at Bernard as the story was about to begin. One thing was certain; they would never run out of bedtime stories in a library.

"Once upon a time," began Bernard, "in a land far, far away, there lived a beautiful Princess in a little fairytale castle with her mummy and daddy, the King and Queen."

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Cressida van Bookshelf closed her eyes, the better to listen. “That sounds like you and mummy and me in our library,” she whispered sleepily.

"I think so too!” smiled Bernard, “anyway, one night, just as she was going to sleep, she looked out of the window in the turret where her bedroom was and do you know what she saw?"

"No, daddy?" murmured Cressida, almost asleep.

Bernard turned the page of the storybook.

"She saw a falling star. A beautiful silvery trail from the heavens coming right down to her into her Kingdom, and do you know what she did next?"

Of their daughter, there came not a word. Her steady breathing assured both he and Kieran that she had drifted into sleep. “She made a wish,” he whispered.

"Come on, Bernie," whispered Kieran, placing a comforting hand on his spouses' shoulder, “maybe tonight she will be lucky and avoid the dream.”

Since her strange sleeping habits had started, Cressida had told of a recurring dream. It was not a nightmare, more an intrigue. She always found herself standing in the middle of a field, with beautiful green grass as far as the eye could see.

Directly in front of her stood a doorframe, a rather strange place for a doorway, she would ponder.

The door would be blown open by a seemingly powerful wind, revealing behind it a strange red landscape. She would walk towards the doorway but was never able to walk through. More recently, her dreams had seen a handsome young 17

man walking through the red landscape towards her, smiling warmly and carrying something that Cressida could not make out. It was generally at this point that she would wake up, although each time she had the dream, the man would appear a little closer to her.

“Bernie?” asked Kieran, still without a response from his spouse. But Bernard van Bookshelf still did not stir. In his mind's eye, the bedtime story he had been reading to his daughter brought him a terrible premonition. In his mind’s eye, a star was falling. Not a glittery silvery fairytale trail as the story suggested, but something huge, threatening, ominous. Something evil. Involuntarily, he shivered.

"What is it, love?" gasped Kieran, in fright.

Bernard snapped out of his premonition and smiled weakly at his loving spouse. He looked around their daughter's bedroom, diffused with warmth and love.

For the first time, he had something that he didn't want to lose.

For the first time in his life, he felt truly afraid. **** Once again the storm clouds gathered moodily over Towndale, transforming morning into a breathless, darkling twilight. The only way to survive a day in such depressing, northern hemisphere grease-spots was to charge the morning with fluorescence, steam, the aroma of burnt toast and the artificial glow of orange juice.

“Morning Bernie,” smiled Kieran, as the dapper wheelchair-bound former megalomaniac trundled 18

his grand entrance into the cheerily refurbished library kitchenette. A recent visit from Towndale Metropolitan Borough Council inspectors had worried the van Bookshelfs that their mock-Tudor alterations to the formerly austere 1960’s flat-pack library building would be frowned upon. More recently, Bernard and Kieran had been making further alterations of monstrous proportions and the sound of hammering, sawing and drilling could be heard on most days. Strangely though, after a meeting with Monkey, the ever-helpful sock puppet with the power of hypnosis, the council inspectors all seemed to mysteriously agree that the building was in an excellent state of repair and that Bernard and his spouse, Kieran, could remain custodians of Towndale Library for the rest of their natural lives and the massive alterations would never again require further inspection from the council. Monkey’s power of hypnotism certainly came in handy sometimes.

Above the hiss and bubble of steaming pans, a small monochrome television babbled to itself incessantly. Suddenly, in an almost surreal twist, the wheelchair-bound figure at the breakfast table appeared on the screen, dressed in one of his infamous tuxedos.

“Do you have problems with marzipan fruit stains on your favourite whites?” began the black and white version of Bernard van Bookshelf, “then try Ys detergent, a gift from the bountiful seas of the Netherlands. One million gay, lesbian, bisexual and trans-gendered households worldwide can’t be wrong!” He winked at the screen rakishly but 19

the charm offensive was to no avail. Both men were too busy even to look up and notice.

Besides, the advertisement had been shown so many times on the television over the past five years that the novelty had worn off somewhat.

The Ys Detergent campaigns were always hugely successful, the most recent campaign had been involved in retrieving and recycling derelict satellites from space in an attempt to reduce pollution and the response from the public had been immense.

Bernard scanned the newspaper casually, decided that the stories were much too depressing for a Towndale morning, and let the entire undignified broadsheet slip to the floor.

“Honestly, Bernie,” clucked Kieran fussily, “I’m trying to time boiled eggs here and picking up your discarded rubbish isn’t helping!”

“I’m sorry, Ki,” pouted Bernard, in an appropriately admonished tone. Kieran flashed a smile of benediction and was just about to resume buttering the bread when their daughter, Cressida, flounced into the room wearing a frilly pink partydress.

“Morning mummy,” she simpered, giving Kieran a sloppy kiss. Kieran blushed, as usual; he always blushed when girls kissed him. Bernard let out a chuckle.

“Daddy, are you teasing Mummy again?” challenged Cressida in mock tones of authority, a habit she had learnt only too well from her adoptive mother.

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Bernard winked at her. “You know, you’ll make someone a wonderful wife one day, with that attitude!” he teased.

“Yuck, boys!” hissed Cressida with an appropriate face of distaste.

“Oh, I don’t know,” mused Bernard, still teasing, “boys aren’t so bad, you know!” He smiled wryly at Kieran.

“Now, now!” said Kieran warningly, “we’ll have none of that talk at the breakfast table!”

“Yes, dear,” pouted Bernard, but sneaking his daughter a secret wink, sending her into a fit of giggles.

“Oh, you are so naughty, Daddy!” she exclaimed, giving him a big hug.

Bernard van Bookshelf, formerly known as the dreaded Baron, had spent the last years trying to erase the memory of his past quasi-evil deeds from the minds of two entire nations. Luckily he didn’t really need to try, because neither his countrymen at home in the UK nor in his adopted country of the Netherlands, ever truly believed that he was capable of the megalomaniac schemes he had once declared so publicly.

Some years ago, he had raised a long-lost city from the bottom of the ocean and had attempted to use an ancient transmitter within the city to change the sexuality of the entire globe from heterosexual to homosexual. Unfortunately, the city had collapsed and sank back into the sea without him ever having achieved his objective and his entire grand scheme came quite literally crashing down around him.

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His reward for raising the City of Ys, accidentally discovering the world’s most powerful detergent in the process and then handing over the rights and revenue for the said product to the Dutch government were a joint citizenship, a small yet modestly successful advocaat factory, a wedding ceremony with his beloved boyfriend Kieran and adoption rights of a child, whose natural parents were brutally slaughtered by the treacherous Interior Minister Brouwer in his own quest for evil domination during the raising of the city. Bernard’s delicious revenge upon Brouwer, crushed under the weight of Elton John’s white baby-grand piano, could only be partial reparation for this vile act, and so he was delighted to be invited to adopt their baby daughter.

Time had indeed healed the worst of the wounds and on most weekends and holidays, the van Bookshelf family could be found roaming wideeyed amongst the glorious townscapes and countryside of Holland from their unique houseboat base on the Herengracht canal in Amsterdam, the 150 foot yacht which the Red Man had stolen from Elton John (which had contained the afore-mentioned ill-fated piano) but which the generous superstar had gifted to this unique family after hearing of their hilarious exploits. There had been talk of him writing a song, perhaps even a musical, on the former evil gay megalomaniac’s life, but he had decided that current censorship laws were simply too strict to do that story justice.

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Today, however, was an important milestone in the life of this particular family, and didn’t Cressida know it!

“So, has Daddy got anything for me?”

“Perhaps,” said Bernard nonchalantly, “but perhaps you haven’t been a good girl this year?”

Kieran rolled his eyes and tutted, wiped his hands on a tea-towel and presented Cressida with a huge satin-padded card, with pink ribbons and a hearts and flowers motif. “Happy Birthday, sweetheart,” he said, giving his daughter a little kiss.

“Ooh, it’s beautiful, mummy!” cooed Cressida appreciatively.

“Next week we’re going to send you for a little holiday to your favorite riding stables in Apeldoorn,” added Bernard warmly.

“On my own?” she gasped excitedly.

“Yes, love. You’re a big girl, now that you’re ten.

We think you are grown-up enough to travel alone in our private jet.”

Cressida jumped up and down on the spot ecstatically, clapping her hands together. She was a short and somewhat plain girl, but she’d been raised by her parents to believe that she was their princess and, having no reason to disbelieve them, she acted, dressed and spoke with a simpering regalness only marred by the intrusion of a slight lisp. Kieran was secretly worried that his own style of speech and deportment had rubbed off on her perhaps a little too much, but no-one ever remarked on it, and eventually he had grown to understand that it did not matter 23

exactly how a daughter looked and sounded, as long as she was happy; and Cressida van Bookshelf, already dreaming of her eagerly anticipated jelly and ice-cream party that afternoon, was the happiest little pink pony-loving princess in the whole wide world. **** Less than a mile away, a much less convivial scene was unfolding.

Anna and Zoltan Connell had lived in Towndale for many years, and it had seemed the ideal place for them to bring up their son, Raine. They had enlisted the help of their two good friends, Monkey and Hearno, the tatty, threadbare sock puppets who vaguely resembled two of the three wise monkeys, who could always be relied upon to offer their words of wisdom in all parenting matters when the need arose.

Raine had been invited to attend the momentous day that was Cressida van Bookshelf’s tenth birthday party, much to his horror. Being the moody teenager he had grown up to be, he didn’t see the need to spend any time with that childish girl, let alone attend a birthday party with her and her little friends.

The van Bookshelf’s and the Connells had become very good friends since their exploits in the city of Ys, some ten years ago. The monkeys still regarded the van Bookshelf family as a potential source of evil-doings and never really trusted the former evil megalomaniac after his previous failed attempts to take over the world, constantly anticipating another attempt at any 24

time. The monkeys believed that Cressida’s birthday party would be an ideal opportunity to keep a woolly eye on the goings-on at the library.

It would also give them the opportunity to let their ears recover from the constant assault that Raine liked to call “music”.

Raine stared thunderously from beneath his black hairy-caterpillar eyebrows, muttering weak pointless curses under his breath and trudging a few metres behind his parents. Zoltan and Anna each carried one imperious sock puppet on their shoulders, although Zoltan was given the harder task of dealing with Monkey’s complaints. At least Hearno remained relatively silent for most of the time.

“I thought we’d been through this before,” chided Monkey, his head turned round to face Raine, “you know it’s only for a few hours.”

“Silly bloody girl,” came the mumbled reply, “she’s a baby, and so are her little friends.”

Monkey crossed his arms and bit his lip. Raine was the chosen one, he was sure of it. He had always been convinced that Raine would one day do something heroic and save the world. Even the Red Man had confirmed this. That faith was being sorely tested now that the golden child had reached his teenage years. Now in the uneasy period between thirteen and fourteen, Raine had decided to adopt the dreaded Emo phase, had dyed his hair a strange shade of black and had taken to only wearing anything black, including tee

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shirts emblazoned with the name and sickening images of his favorite band ‘Colon Contents.’

Monkey could have forgiven that, had Raine ever bothered to wash the clothes, or indeed himself.

The stench was sometimes so overpowering that the five metre ‘embarrassment distance’ that Raine enforced between himself and his parents when out in public was a blessing in disguise.

Monkey wrinkled his nose, and added, in a conciliatory tone “besides, it’s been a good few months since you’ve had time to visit Auntie Kieran and Uncle Bernard. They’ll be so pleased to see you again.”

“You think I care how those two faggots feel?” murmured Raine.

“Raine!” gasped Anna. “I will not hear language like that from you!”

“Well, it’s true,” said Raine, “they’re disgusting.

That’s what all the lads say at karate class!”

“You’d better not say anything like that at the party,” warned Monkey, darkly.

“Oh, you needn’t worry about that,” came the amused reply, “I’m not talking to any of them, and you cannot make me!”

Zoltan groaned inwardly. He had long since given up trying to control his wayward son. Anything he said always ended with his beautiful child, the child that he had cradled lovingly in his arms in the good old days, concluding by shouting “and you cannot make me!” Zoltan had often wished he could go back to the days when his son had been that cheeky, happy child, who had found fascination in everything that surrounded him and 26

who had loved and respected his family. These days, Zoltan took the greatest pleasures out of the early hours of the morning, which seemed to be the only time when Raine’s stereo had a chance to recover before its relentless assault on the eardrums the next morning. **** “Zoltan!” exclaimed Bernard, as he welcomed the party-guests into the main library hall. Bernard van Bookshelf had managed to squeeze himself into one of his old white tuxedos for the occasion.

Zoltan shook Bernard’s hand warmly but didn’t get away with that kind of formal gentlemanly behaviour. With a deft and well-rehearsed movement, Bernard had him over the chair and had planted a big sloppy kiss on his cheek. Anna smiled and blushed slightly, Raine just looked sick.

“Look Kieran! Zoltan, Anna, Raine and the monkeys are here!”

Kieran looked up from serving out sandwiches to the children who had already arrived and waved at them in that unmistakably and unashamedly camp way of his. The effect was strongly reinforced by his loose flowery shirt, his pink slacks, and the small silver cone of a party hat, tied to his floppy-haired head at a rakish angle.

Pre-pubescent children swirled around his ankles excitedly, jumping for the sandwiches.

“He’s a bit busy at the moment, as you can see,” beamed Bernard, “dear Kieran, he has such a knack with the kids. Most of them still stare at my

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wheelchair when they’re talking to me, though it’s slowly getting better,” he smiled.

Anna allowed the former evil megalomaniac to plant a respectful kiss on her hand. She giggled every time he did this because it was unusual for a man to act in this kind of centuries-old style. She was especially fond of Bernard and Kieran because they had decided, after all the battling of the past, to settle down and commit to each other and to Cressida. Sometimes she caught herself wishing that her own family could act a little more like them, and then realised that all it really needed was a little more work, particularly on Raine.

The teenager in question managed a watery smile to his host but didn’t go anywhere near him.

Monkey was grateful for that at least because Bernard was always rather over-liberal with the cologne and Raine would undoubtedly have been anointed had he caught wind of the smell.

“Well, well, well, Raine Connell. We are growing up, aren’t we?” Raine nodded, a look of undisguised boredom slipping onto his face. “I’m loving the hair too! It’s always nice to see a fringe that would rival a St Bernard. What styling product do you use? Is it lard?”

Raine wasn’t sure what lard was. “I don’t use anything.”

“Really? Natural grease? Achieving such an effect must take weeks of unwashed hair? How wonderful! Anyway, the party is starting soon. I’ve taken the liberty of putting you on the adult’s table.

Is that all right?”

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Raine smiled, for the first time in days it was a genuine smile too. Zoltan made a mental note to commit this smile to memory. They didn’t happen all that often.

“I see Mr. Intrepid has arrived already,” said Monkey “I’d better have a word with him about what he wants me to do. Would you excuse me?”

“Certainly, old chap,” replied Bernard, warmly.

Mr. Intrepid was an octogenarian children’s entertainer of the very, very old school and had been Zoltan’s teacher when he had started in the children’s entertainment profession. Although Zoltan sometimes felt a twinge of jealousy about the name, he knew full well that Mr. Intrepid was definitely no threat to Zoltan the Magnificent. He was going to volunteer to do the party entertainment himself but he knew that this would embarrass Raine beyond endurance, and that his attendance at the party was pretty much obligatory. Furthermore, Mr. Intrepid really needed the event to boost his own flagging self-esteem.

Generally kids just didn’t want balloon animals, singing games and, his own particular specialty, the Punch and Judy show, any more. However, Cressida and her friends were probably the nearest thing to a sympathetic audience that the dear old man was ever likely to get, which was all the more reason why today’s performance was going to be so special to him.

“Hmm…I’m not quite sure I approve of this,” ventured Monkey uneasily after hearing Mr. Intrepid’s tentative proposal, “but I suppose I can 29

let you, just this once, just so long as you know that I positively refuse to be hit over the head by Mr. Punch!”

The old man smiled gratefully. “Thank you Monkey. I’m certain you will enjoy it. Now, if you will excuse me, I’ll just get the puppets together.”

Kieran and Bernard called the children together around the familiar red and white striped booth of the Punch and Judy show and then retired to a safe distance in order to chat to Anna, Zoltan and the rest of the parents.

Mr. Intrepid wiped his nose and peered rheumyeyed into his puppet box. For the first and last time in his long and lustrous life in the service of children, however, he was about to get an unpleasant surprise. His eyes landed upon a figure, hidden inside the box itself, but he never had time even to gasp his amazement, even as the figure rushed out of the box and snapped his neck. His small, thin body crushed easily as he was noiselessly dragged inside, the darkness swallowing him into a final, fatal embrace. **** “Hello Children!” said Mr. Punch.

“Hello Mr. Punch!” came the sing-song reply.

“Today isn’t our usual ‘Punch and Judy’ show, it’s something very special. Today, we have a Punch and Monkey show!” squeaked Mr. Punch.

“Hooray!” shouted the children.

“Did I say ‘Punch and Monkey’ show?” said Mr. Punch, ominously, “I meant a ‘Punch THE Monkey’ show!” The kids cheered again.

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“Hey, steady on!” whispered Monkey hoarsely, who was balanced on the puppeteers other hand, “I said no sticks but I also meant no punching!”

“Isn’t he a spoilsport, children?” called Mr. Punch.

“Yeah,” shouted the children excitedly.

“Shall we tie him up, children?”

“Yeah!”

In a hot minute, Monkey had been trussed up like a Christmas turkey, despite his constant protests.

Kieran and Bernard gave a faint wave of acknowledgement and then went back to discussing the finer points of gravy wastage with Zoltan and Anna.

Mr. Punch certainly lived up to his name that day.

Monkey was being viciously savaged by a leering cherry-faced marionette, armed with an impressive eight-inch weapon. The tiny sock puppet was being bashed, then bashed again, and bashed some more for good measure.

“Help, help, Zoltan, for goodness sake! Can’t you see I’m being beaten to death in front of you by this guy’s wood?”

“I think we should shut him up, don’t you, children?” sang Mr. Punch.

“Yeah!” came the screamed reply, despite Monkey’s furious protests. It was well known that kids invariably agreed with everything that Mr. Punch said. The puppet stuffed a rag into Monkey’s outraged mouth.

“Now,” said Mr. Punch with a low, angry growl, “what shall we do with this naughty Monkey?

Should we shave all his fur off?” Monkey’s eyes 31

widened in fear as he mumbled out some garbled words. If he could sweat, he would have been wringing wet by now. “No,” continued Mr. Punch, “he’s bald in patches already, you’d never notice!”

The children giggled.

“Or maybe cut his arms and legs off? No he doesn’t have any really, does he? Just these stubby little things that are not much use to anyone!” By now, some of the little cherubs were on their feet, simulating scissors with their fingers and cheering.

“Daddy?” whispered Cressida, nervously.

“Yes, Cressida, my favorite birthday girl?”

“Mr. Punch is going to cut Monkey up!”

Bernard smiled sweetly at his daughter. “No, its okay, sweetie. It’s all part of the act. He’s just saying that. It adds to the dramatic tension of the moment.”

“Oh,” she mused, “like you used to say you were going to take over the world? Was that an act too, daddy? I bet that was quite a dramatic moment?”

Bernard, Kieran, Zoltan and Anna fell into a stony silence and looked up at the ‘Punch and Judy’ booth. Mr. Punch was holding a cigarette lighter over the prostrate body of the simian superhero.

“I know, children!” said Mr. Punch in a sing song way, “let’s burn him to death! Can you all shout ‘burn, burn, burn,’ for Mr. Punch, children?”

“Burn, burn, burn, burn,” chanted the kids excitedly, dancing around in a frenzy.

Finally, Hearno dashed behind the booth as the humans stood frozen in horror, but by the time he 32

had reached it, the puppeteer had already fled, leaving Mr. Punch lolling lazily over the side of the stage.

As Hearno started untying Monkey, all the children began cheering.

“Yeah, Monkey’s boyfriend is rescuing Monkey,” called one of them.

“He is not… my boyfriend,” stuttered Monkey, as soon as his mouth was unplugged.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah!” screamed the children, as they danced around the booth.

Zoltan climbed inside to help free him.

“You bloody idiot, why didn’t you take any notice of me? I was seconds away from becoming a small wool fire!” Monkey seethed, “that tutor friend of yours could have killed me, Zoltan!”

“I don’t think so,” came the subdued reply, “he’s dead already.”

Bernard and Kieran joined them behind the booth and peered at the sunken body squeezed into the puppet box. Instinctively, Kieran’s hand sought that of his spouse.

“It’s started,” whispered Bernard.

“So soon, Bernie?”

“I’m afraid so, Ki, love. We must bring our plans forward a little. There should still be time for our special day, though.”

“Do we… really have to go through with this?”

Kieran gulped.

Bernard stroked his spouse’s palm lightly. “If we don’t, then the human race will cease to exist, and that means not just us, but our baby too. We must finalise the equipment and run through our final 33

sequence of checks. Our plan must work like clockwork.”

“Yes, yes of course, Bernie.”

The two of them stared, hand in hand, at the imploded corpse of Mr. Intrepid.

“Just like old times,” Bernard said, grimly.

34

Two Cressida blinked her eyes as she found herself in a field of emerald grass. She slowly turned around in a full circle, admiring once again the beauty of her surroundings. The grass smelled sweet and fresh and felt cold but strangely comfortable beneath her feet. “I’m dreaming again,� she whispered to herself.

The dream was always pleasurable and she found herself soothed and relaxed as she began walking. She stopped briefly to admire a small brown rabbit that seemed to appear from nowhere, turning to look at her. It seemed to give a smile, before hopping off into the distance.

Cressida began skipping through the grass, saying hello to a pair of brightly coloured butterflies that fluttered around her head as she skipped. To her right, she could see a pair of pink

35

ponies grazing and, as she watched in amazement, magnificent pairs of wings opened on their backs. A few quick beats of the powerful wings and the horses took to the sky, flying towards her before also disappearing into the distance. She wished she could live in this place, far away from the world as she knew it. Of course, they would have to make some modifications for her father’s wheelchair.

Before long, she found herself standing before a closed door in the middle of the field. Although Cressida had seen this door in her dreams so many times before, it never seemed to surprise her to find it here. There seemed no reason for a door to be placed here, particularly as there were no walls attached to it. As she pondered the possible explanations, the door swung open and revealed a striking red landscape behind it. It was punctuated by large red coloured rocks and a strong wind occasionally blew through, carrying great clouds of hot dust along with it.

As ever, Cressida walked around to the back of the doorframe but was surprised to see the green of the field extending far into the distance. She walked back around to the front of the door.

Cautiously, she stepped towards it and tried to step through the frame, and was surprised when the door slid away from her. She tried again and the same thing happened. “Curiouser and curiouser,� she said to herself, expecting a white rabbit with a stopwatch to run past her at any moment.

36

For the briefest of moments, Cressida thought she heard a terrifying scream from beyond the door and as she strained her eyes to look deeper into the red landscape, she noticed a man crossing the rocky terrain before her. As he approached, he seemed to be carrying something behind his back and all the time he walked, he smiled widely.

Cressida felt at ease with the approaching man, almost as though he were an old friend and knew she could trust him. His blonde shoulder length hair reflected the eerie red glow of his surroundings and his eyes were the palest shade of blue she had ever seen. He seemed to have small wings on his shoulders, which Cressida found intriguing. He wore a black casual suit and his shirt had the top three buttons unfastened.

Hanging from his belt was a large horn-shaped object.

The man reached the door and stopped. Cressida frowned. Her dream had never reached this point before, she thought, this was all new to her.

“Hello Cressida,” said the man, his voice sounding soft and dreamy, seeming to come from all directions.

Cressida was surprised. “How do you know my name?”

The man knelt on the ground inside the doorframe. “I know everyone’s names. I’ve been around a long time.”

“I’m not allowed to talk to strangers,” added Cressida, thoughtfully, “mummy always tells me that.”

37

The man laughed. “Your mummy is very wise.

However, I am no stranger, Cressida. We just haven’t met before.”

“I suppose you’re right,” simpered Cressida, “what is through the door?”

“It’s another world. Not a place for the likes of you.

You should stay on your side.”

“I have tried to get through but the door keeps moving. Why don’t you come here? I can show you the pink ponies and the butterflies. It’s lovely.”

The man, still smiling, shook his head. “Not yet, Cressida. I’d love to come and see but it’s not time yet. Can I come and see you again?”

“That would be nice,” she said, jumping up and down excitedly, “maybe we can have a picnic?”

“Maybe so,” said the man.

In the distance, Kieran’s voice could be heard, calling Cressida’s name.

“I’ll have to go,” she said, “mummy is shouting me.”

“I understand,” said the man, “but wait, I have something for you.” From behind his back, he produced a black rose. “Until we meet again?”

Cressida took the flower and thanked him. “See you later,” she said, skipping away through the grass. Moments later, she was awake.

“Morning, Princess,” said Kieran, “did you have a nice sleep?”

Cressida smiled. “Yes thank you mummy, I saw that nice man again. He gave me a flower.”

“That’s nice dear,” smiled Kieran, “now run along and have a shower, breakfast is almost ready.” He 38

watched his little girl skip happily to the bathroom and began making her bed. His eyes fell over a black rose placed beside her pillow and he frowned. Never before had he seen such a beautiful specimen. He placed the flower in the little vase that sat on Cressida’s bedside cabinet.

“Princess, where did you get this black rose from?” he called, “it’s very pretty.”

“I told you,” came the reply from the bathroom, “the man in my dream gave me it.”

Kieran suddenly felt cold. Cressida would never lie to him, but it was impossible for something from a dream to be brought into the real world.

Something was wrong here.

Monkey sat at the table in the anteroom, listening intently as Cressida retold her dream in intricate detail. After several minutes, he let out a sigh of undisguised boredom. “Cressida, as much as I enjoy visualising pink ponies and white rabbits, could we skip to the bit where the man spoke to you?”

“I was getting to that part,” said Cressida, “but now I can’t remember where I got to. I’ll have to start again now!”

“No!” he snapped. Cressida’s face dropped. “I mean... I remember where you got to.” He sighed again and reminded her that she saw the man approaching.

“That’s right, and he had a big smile and he was carrying something behind his back...” “... the flower?” Monkey interrupted, “which reminds me, can I see it please?” Kieran nodded 39

and walked off to retrieve the flower. “Cressida,” Monkey whispered, “what did the man look like?”

“Well, he had a smiley face and a nice suit. He had a thing hanging at his side.”

“What kind of thing?” Monkey raised his eyebrows.

“A kind of horn thing. Like a bulls horn or something like that.”

Monkey was a little confused. Why would anyone want to carry a bulls horn at his side? “He sounds nice,” he said, trying to deflect his confusion, taking a large swallow from his mug of tea.

“Yes, he was lovely. He had beautiful wings on his shoulders too.”

Monkey spat out his tea, spraying Cressida, much to her disgust.

“Wings? On his shoulders? That’s a little unusual,” he choked.

Kieran walked back with the flower and handed it to Monkey. The simian superhero looked briefly at the rose and placed it gently on the table.

“What do you think, Monkey?” asked Kieran, “have you ever seen anything like this before?”

“I don’t think so,” lied Monkey, “I’ll go home and see if I can find anything out. Black roses are notoriously difficult to grow, especially ones so dark. Perhaps if I can find out who has mastered this particular variety, I can get to the bottom of things.”

He jumped down from the table, took one more look at the rose and hurried out of the library.

40

“So what did you make of all this,” asked Hearno, “black roses and people with wings on their shoulders?”

“Think about it, sawdust for brains, where is the only place you can get a genuine pure black rose from?”

“The all night petrol station?”

Monkey sighed another of his long-suffering sighs.

“The Underworld.”

Hearno shrugged his shoulders, “how could Cressida go to the Underworld and get a black rose?”

Anna scratched her head. “Perhaps she didn’t.

Cressida said she couldn’t walk through the doorway. Is it possible that the doorway that Cressida dreamed of is the door to the Underworld?”

“That’s a definite possibility,” said Monkey, “from her description, the scenery does sound very Underworldy. Although, at the moment, I am more concerned over the identity of the man in her dreams. From her description, it sounds to me like Hypnos, the Greek God of Sleep.”

Anna looked even more puzzled than before. “A Greek God? Why would he visit Cressida’s dream? That’s just odd.”

“I’m not sure ‘odd’ is the word I would choose. It’s very worrying that he is around at all. If he is able to give things to Cressida through her dream, he could feasibly come through himself. Hypnos is the bringer of sleep and he could put you to sleep in the blink of an eye. If he put you to sleep from

41

this side of reality, there’s no telling how, if or when you might wake up.”

“We’d all die?” said Hearno, surprisingly hearing the entire conversation clearly for a change.

“No, Hypnos cannot kill, remember? Although his twin brother, Thanatos can. If he were to escape too, we can all kiss goodbye to life on Earth.”

“So how do we stop them?” asked Anna.

“I’m not sure,” sighed Monkey, “but I do know that we have to get Cressida away from the library. If Hypnos is targeting her to make his entrance into reality, she needs to be moved away. We must tell Bernard immediately.”

42

Three Not much had changed in Towndale over the past fifteen years. The physical features were still the same; it was still set in a deep valley in the bend of the River Calder, deep in the heart of Yorkshire.

There was still a wonderful blend of magnificent architecture, from the very modern shopping centre that continued having difficulties in filling several units, to the truly fantastic library in the centre of the town which was still being expertly managed by the reformed Bernard van Bookshelf and his spouse, Kieran.

It seemed as though things were going well for everyone. Raine provided the biggest threat to the peace, playing the music of Colon Contents at the maximum possible volume. His parents had long since given up asking him to turn the sound down,

43

as he simply took no notice. Zoltan and Anna clung to the hope that one day, Raine would grow out of his rebellious stage; although this day currently seemed a long way off.

It had been several weeks since Cressida van Bookshelf’s birthday party had come to such an abrupt end due to Mr. Intrepid having been crushed to death in his puppet box. Since that day, Monkey had been on edge, expecting trouble to erupt at any moment, and now that Cressida van Bookshelf was having strange dreams in which she had brought an object from the dream world into reality, Monkey was practically frantic.

Zoltan and Anna were sitting down to breakfast, together with the two monkeys, who were both enjoying their favorite meal of a solitary sausage.

Raine was sulking in his bedroom after being denied permission to go on a week-long scuba diving expedition off the coast of Mustique. The meal was interrupted by a knock at the door. Anna answered it to find the postman, grinning like a deranged Cheshire cat. She managed to return a watery smile as he handed over the mail.

“Oh, great!” moaned Anna, closing the door in his face. She had briefly thought how this was a stupid place for a door, but that thought soon passed. “More bills! It seems as though we only ever get bills these days!” She handed the post to her husband, who flicked quickly through the envelopes, stopping at one that was simply addressed to ‘Zoltan, Towndale.’ The handwriting was scrawny and barely legible.

44

Puzzled, he opened the envelope. He rarely got post himself. And very few people ever called him Zoltan. As he read the letter, he dropped the toast he was eating.

“Everything alright, big lad?” asked Monkey.

Zoltan frowned and shook his head. He handed the letter to Monkey, who read it aloud. ‘zoltan the magnificent I will mayk you pay for my pain revenj will be sweet’ “Oh my goodness!” exclaimed Anna, holding her hands over her mouth.

“I’ll say!” Monkey replied, “the spelling and grammar are terrible. I wonder which educational establishment this goon graduated from?”

“Pain?” frowned Hearno, “who have you ever hurt in your life, Zoltan?”

“Well, no-one as far as I know.”

“Eh?” “I said I don’t think I’ve hurt anyone.”

“Eh?” “I said… oh, never mind!”

Anna picked up the note, chilled by its content, suddenly feeling very vulnerable. “Honey, what could this mean?” she sobbed, “what have you done?”

“I don’t know! You know that I have always fought for everything that is right and fair.”

Monkey again looked at the note. “I wonder if this has anything to do with the murder of Mr. Intrepid? Or something to do with Hypnos and Cressida’s dream?” he mused.

45

“A clue, perhaps? Should we go to the police?” asked Anna.

“If it makes you feel better,” smiled Monkey, “although I am not sure if they can do anything,” he added quietly.

Manning the desk at Towndale’s little police station was Sergeant Wayne Kerr. Sergeant Kerr had been in charge of the station for almost twenty years. During his time in Towndale he had witnessed a number of bizarre happenings, including several murders and a train crash where hundreds of people were reported missing but no bodies had ever been found. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary for Sergeant Kerr, and he barely even batted an eyelid when Anna walked in with Zoltan in tow, even when he noticed the former superhero dressed in a lycra suit, golden cape and spray-painted wellington boots.

Anna handed the note to Sergeant Kerr, who studied it carefully. Several “umms” passed by.

Followed by a few “ahaas” and the occasional “I see”.

Sergeant Kerr looked at Anna. “Do you mind not making those silly noises? I am trying to read here!” He continued studying the note in great detail. “Do you have many enemies, Mr. Connell?” he said at last.

Zoltan shook his head. “Not as far as I know,” he replied.

The Sergeant frowned. “From the tone of this note it would appear that you have really upset someone, yet you are telling me that you have no 46

idea who, as you have no enemies.” The Sergeant obviously liked to repeat things for dramatic purposes, Zoltan thought.

“My husband is one of the kindest, bravest men you could ever meet,” said Anna, “I can assure you that it isn’t in his nature to go around upsetting people. Especially not crazy people like the one who has written this note!”

The Sergeant raised an eyebrow in mild amusement. “What makes you think this person is crazy?” he smoozeled. Which, as everyone knows, is slightly more than “smiled” but a little less that “oozed.”

“Well,” said Anna, thoughtfully, “is writing a threatening letter like this the behavior of a sane person?”

“This is true,” countered the Sergeant, “but would a sane person be walking around in a lycra suit, golden cape and spray-painted wellington boots?”

“Touché,” Anna thought. “What do you propose to do about the note, Sergeant?” she asked at length.

The Sergeant shrugged his shoulders. “Nothing much I can do, I’m afraid. At present, this is just an idle threat. We cannot arrest someone for making threats. Particularly as we have no suspects.” “So you won’t do anything?” she snapped.

“Not won’t, Mrs. Connell. Can't. If this person is violent towards you we can do something about it.

Mere threats, well, they are frankly not a crime. I suggest that you go home and, if anything else happens, come back and see me. Unfortunately, 47

there is absolutely nothing I can use to begin an investigation. I’m sorry, Mrs. Connell.”

Anna huffed in frustration, took her husband by the arm and dragged him out of the police station.

Sergeant Kerr passed the note to his assistant, WPC Anne Dromeda. “Have a look into this, will you?”

“Yes sir,” she sighed. **** “How did it go?” asked Hearno.

“Terrible,” Anna sighed.

“Eh?” “I said it was terrible.”

“Eh?” “I SAID… oh, never mind!”

Monkey sat up. “What happened?”

Anna flopped herself tidily on the couch. She didn’t do untidy. “Nothing,” she huffed, “they said that they cannot do anything about threats, only violence. What has happened to British justice?

Gone are the days when people could just be persecuted on a whim.”

Monkey was about to agree with what the Sergeant had said when a series of loud bangs came from the kitchen. Anna, Zoltan and the two monkeys ran into the kitchen to investigate the source of the noise. Raine was standing beside the breakfast counter with a puzzled look on his face, his black clothes scorched and thin wisps of smoke drifting around him.

“They just… exploded!” he stammered.

Anna looked around the room which was now strewn with muesli, crisped rice and corn flakes, 48

their smouldering boxes lying in an untidy heap on the floor.

“It looks like a number of small bombs have been placed inside our food!” said Anna.

“I think I know what is going on,” said Monkey, “I think we are dealing with a dangerous cereal killer.”

Anna looked at the puppet with disdain. The wordplay she had witnessed recently had gotten seriously out of hand.

Raine noticed a piece of paper on one of the worktops. He picked it up and read it aloud. “zoltan the magnificent, you canot escaip me. I have waitered to long for this. Let the toasted weet flaiks be a warning to you.”

“Who are you?” whispered Zoltan, “what do you want from me?” Of course, the cornflakes didn’t answer. **** Sergeant Kerr and WPC Dromeda looked around the kitchen with a look of mild disgust. Anna was legendary in her tidiness, always appeared to be such a house-proud sort of person, yet she had allowed someone to throw cereal around the room and had simply left it there. Not the type of behavior you might expect from any normal family, thought the Sergeant. “So what happened here?” he asked, smugly.

“All the boxes of cereal exploded,” Zoltan explained. “Our son was in here. He could have been killed!”

49

“That’s terrible,” said WPC Dromeda, trying to sound sincere.

“I’ll say!” moaned Zoltan, “it means I’ll have to have a boiled egg instead.”

Anna groaned and noted this latest one-liner in her memory. Someone was going to have to pay for this terrible line in cheap, throwaway so-called comedy.

Anna handed the note to the Sergeant. “He left this,” she said. Sergeant Kerr read the note, then without word handed it to WPC Dromeda.

“You’re not going to do anything, are you?” seethed Anna, “Raine could have been killed!”

“As I told you before, Mrs. Connell. Unless you receive actual physical injuries, I can do nothing,” he smoozeled.

“What are you talking about, you fool! This is an act of terrorism! You have to do something before someone gets seriously injured!”

“Or we run out of food altogether,” Zoltan interjected.

“Anna! That’s enough!” soothed Monkey, “and Zoltan, stop interjecting when you have no idea what it means! Let the Sergeant go back to the police station to examine the note. We can talk about all this ourselves.”

Sergeant Kerr sighed. “Fine, I’ll arrange for someone to come and dust for prints, we’ll see if anything comes up. I can’t do much else.”

Reluctantly, Anna agreed. As the respected members of the constabulary left the house via the kitchen door, Anna took out the vacuum cleaner and proceeded to tidy up the kitchen.

50

Zoltan took Monkey to one side. “This is hitting her hard,” he whispered, “she is constantly on edge. She isn’t usually like this.”

“Hardly surprising,” Monkey replied absently, watching Anna as she in turn watched WPC Dromeda through the kitchen window as she commented about how beautiful the garden looked. “Whoever is doing all this managed to get in here, plant the explosives, leave a note and make good their escape. I would also be concerned and… what IS that smell?” Monkey wrinkled his nose.

Zoltan took a big breath. “It smells very familiar, yet I can’t quite place it.”

Anna had obviously not noticed the smell just yet; otherwise she would have had the air freshener out. She was far too busy with vacuum cleaners and crisped rice to worry about strange smells at the moment, anyway.

“I think we need to increase the security here,” said Monkey, “at least until we find out who is doing all of this. Maybe some CCTV cameras and a burglar alarm initially?” Zoltan nodded.

Suddenly a loud yelp came from behind them.

Zoltan spun around to see what the noise was.

Anna was still looking out of the window, watching as WPC Dromeda tried to find at least one blade of grass that was out of place. Anna sighed, vacuum cleaner in hand, the nozzle now resting on one of the dining room chairs. The vacuum cleaner was making a high pitched whining sound.

The sound quickly wrenched her out of her trance and she quickly turned it off.

51

“What is going on? What was that noise?” frowned Monkey.

“I must have sucked something up,” said Anna.

She looked around the room. The oven gloves were still there. So was the tablecloth. Hearno’s newspaper still lay on the table.

Hearno?

A muffled voice came from within the vacuum cleaner.

“I suppose you think this is funny?” **** Several days had passed since the exploding cereal incident and had thus far been without further incident, neither had there been any further reports from the van Bookshelf family about any more of Cressida’s dreams. Bernard had moved Cressida into a different bedroom and it seemed that had done the trick so far, much to everyone’s relief.

Zoltan and Anna were sitting down to breakfast in unusual silence. Even Raine had taken a moment’s break from protesting about anything authoritative. Monkey was trying his best to research the internet to find other exploding cereal incidents or sightings of men with wings on their shoulders but without luck.

Just then there was a tap at the door. Anna and Zoltan stared at each other nervously. Neither could remember installing a tap. Anna made a note to include that joke in her court case. Monkey was too engrossed to notice. Raine stared at them all but none moved.

52

“Oh, don’t worry,” he moaned, “I’ll get it!” He walked to the door and answered it to find WPC Dromeda standing under the porch, looking very wet.

It was raining again. Not one of those pathetic rain showers that you sometimes get in the middle of summer. This was a huge downpour, a more typical Spring "open the floodgates and let 'er rip" rainstorm than a miserable August day. The heavens had opened. Huge, booming roars of thunder setting off car alarms far in the distance.

Flashes of lightning bright enough to make the evening seem briefly like midday. And lots of rain.

“Come in, dude!” said Raine, who had been named so by his parents in a fit of madness due to the unseasonable weather that tended to follow them around. Ironically, it had turned out that the teenager and the weather had much in common; gloomy, miserable and no-one liked them much.

WPC Dromeda flashed a smile at Raine, trying to hold her breath as she squeezed past him. He was particularly pungent today, likely to smell even worse after his karate class this evening.

The policewoman made her way to the breakfast table. “Morning, Mr. Connell, Mrs. Connell,” she smiled, nodding in their general direction. She hadn’t yet mastered the art of smoozeling. “I have some news for you.”

“Oh yes?” asked Zoltan, getting to his feet and shaking her hand.

“Yes, I’ve done some investigations for you, even though my Sergeant asked me not to bother. I’d be grateful if you could keep this information to 53

yourselves? I’d hate to have to listen to another of his sermons about the amount of paperwork the police need to fill in.”

Zoltan and Anna nodded their heads eagerly.

“Very well. The main thing I could find was that the paper that the notes were written on had an unusual watermark, the letters TCC. As both notes had the same watermark, I assume that they both came from the same place and were sent by the same person. I guess it’s not a major help but at least we know that there seems to be only one person behind this. I’m afraid I don’t know what those letters could stand for and I wondered if you may have an idea?”

“Towndale Community College,” said Raine, matter-of-factly, “I used to go there.”

“It could mean that, I suppose,” said the policewoman, flashing another smile at Raine. He got the distinct impression she was flirting with him. “There is one other thing,” she continued, “there was a rather unusual thumbprint in one corner of the second note. It didn’t match any of our records, which is unusual as we have the prints of most people in Towndale. The strange thing was… well, the print seemed to be made out of marzipan.”

Monkey sat up attentively. “Marzipan, you say?

Are you certain of this?”

“Absolutely. The smell of marzipan was quite distinctive.”

“And that was the smell we couldn’t identify the other day,” added Zoltan.

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Monkey nodded. Marzipan. Why did that not surprise him?

“Anyway,” said WPC Dromeda, “that is all I can tell you. I hope it will help?”

“You have been a great help, thank you,” said Monkey.

Raine offered to walk WPC Dromeda to the door, which she hastily but politely declined. Raine thought she was probably playing hard to get.

“Looks like we have found our culprit,” said Hearno, “I only know of one marzipan-obsessed person in the Towndale area.”

“Indeed,” mused Monkey, “but why would Bernard van Bookshelf do such a thing? He is a good friend of ours.”

“Who knows what goes on in that mind of his,” said Zoltan, “sometimes the people who appear sane can prove you wrong. After all, Mr. Intrepid died at the party he arranged, and it is his daughter who is being plagued by these weird dreams. It makes me wonder whether she is having the dreams after all? Perhaps it’s all just a distraction to lead us away on a wild goose chase while Bernard puts one of his plans to take over the world into operation. I just know that whatever is going on, it’s all down to him!”

“So what do we do?” asked Anna, “we can’t just sit here and wait for his next move?”

“No, you’re right,” said Monkey, rubbing the bridge of his nose, wondering why he did that, as his nose never itched, “we need to find out what he has planned. We need someone on the inside,

55

someone who Bernard knows and has complete trust in.”

Everyone looked at Raine.

“Oh no,” said Raine, suddenly realising what was going on, “if you think that I’m doing it, you can think again!”

“Oh, come on!” laughed Monkey, “it won’t be for long! Just until you find out what is going on over there.”

“You’ve got a snowballs chance in Hell!” snapped Raine. “I’m not going, and you can’t make me!” **** For about half an hour after the karate evening class, Raine remained behind. It was relatively easy to feign an excuse to join the lads for an illicit beer in the pub a little later than usual. After all, it wasn’t as if he had a habit of missing their drinking binges. Of course, his parents would be extremely unhappy if they were to find out about his under-age drinking. Which made the experience all the more satisfying.

Once he was quite sure that everyone else had gone, he knocked at the office door nervously.

“Come,” said a calm, deep voice from within.

Raine quietly pushed the door aside and stepped into the room.

The karate master sat with his eyes closed, crosslegged in the lotus position within the centre of his very modern-looking office. It seemed at once both bizarre and prophetic. It was rare that any pupil was allowed into the office, particularly while the master was meditating. The room itself was immaculate, adorned with beautiful artifacts from 56

the Far East and above the ornate marble fireplace hung a beautifully ornate Katana, complete with diamond encrusted hilt and matching Wakizashi, sheathed in the finest leather and ivory case. Bizarrely, despite the copious oriental souvenirs that the master had collected over the years, pride and place was reserved for a mannequin, dressed in black jeans, white t-shirt, leather jacket and dark sunglasses.

“Young Raine,” said the master, without once looking up from his contemplations, “I have been expecting you.”

“But how?” Raine gasped. He had given the master no indication of his need to discuss his troubles with him.

“You have inner conflict. I can sense that. Please, join me in contemplation.”

Raine joined him, cross-legged on the floor.

“Now, speak your troubles.”

“Sensei,” Raine began carefully, “my parents have asked me to spend some time with the van Bookshelf family.”

“I know them,” said the master, quite without emotion.

“I do not… wish to spend time with them. They are disgusting.”

The wise man sat in silence for several seconds, nodding his head sagely. For Raine it felt like hours. At length he asked, “Why do you fear something which cannot harm you, my child?”

“I didn’t say fear,” protested Raine, “I said they disgust me.”

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“Fear. Disgust. They are two faces on the very same coin.”

Raine nodded, chastened. “Then how should I overcome my fear, Sensei?”

“By recognising that your fear is a perception, not a reality. You must ask yourself this; can the van Bookshelfs truly harm anyone, not least a young man who can defend himself?”

“I fear their lifestyle, not their offensive capability,” Raine replied, irritably.

The master thought for another few seconds, and then opened his eyes.

“Then answer me this; do you believe you have courage, Raine?”

Raine sat up straight and puffed out his chest. “I think so, Sensei. I try to have.”

“A sensible answer,” nodded the master encouragingly, “we all have courage to a greater or a lesser degree according to our natures,” he continued, “but I say to you now, to your face, that the van Bookshelfs have more courage than you or I, or indeed the whole of the rest of Towndale put together.”

Raine looked puzzled.

“They live the way they live completely openly, my child. They have no defense against aggression save to let their courage shine out for all to see.

You should envy them such courage.”

“But Sensei, my parents want me to stay with them?”

The wise man nodded sagely. “An eminently sensible idea. It will allow you all the more opportunity to learn from their courage. Courage 58

is an important attribute for anyone to experience, you more than most. You may need such courage in the months and years ahead, perhaps sooner than you think.” He once again closed his eyes.

Raine was truly troubled by this conversation. His karate master was tough, ruthlessly efficient, straight as an arrow. He had hoped for a quite different response. Sensing that their conversation was now at an end, Raine stood and bowed respectfully to the imposing figure. “Thank you for your wisdom, Master Swimmer,” he concluded gravely as he sloped out of the room.

Steve Swimmer smiled quietly to himself and resumed his meditation. “Oh, the burdens of being the Chosen One,” he muttered. **** “Why, bend me over and give me a jolly good spanking, if it’s not my two favorite customers!” exclaimed Gervaise, breaking into the widest of wide smiles, “I haven’t seen you in… oh, days!”

Bernard winked and Kieran tried his best to suppress a titter of delight. It was perfectly true, ‘Waffles’ , the exclusive London jewelry shop, situated conveniently opposite the corner of Tottenham Court Road and Old Compton Street, had loudly and proudly attributed its last decade of excellent business to the custom and publicity from their most infamous patrons.

“You are so delightful, Gervaise. It’s a good job I’m already married or I’d make good on your invitation,” chortled Bernard.

Kieran lightly wagged his finger at his spouse, sending Gervaise into stitches of laughter. Ten 59

years previously, the then evil megalomaniac Baron von Bookshelf had held up this very store with a water pistol, in his desperate quest to find the items needed to raise the legendary City of Ys. The spotty faced work placement student who had then so readily complied with Bernard’s pearlescent demands, now stood proudly before them, master of all he surveyed. Rich, handsome and, if the rumours from the hairdresser three doors down could be relied upon, presently paying some serious court to a slick but well-respected city trader called Keith. Gervaise was yet another triumphant blow in the struggle which Bernard had once only thought could be won through a single megalomaniac scheme of evil. “If I was the past,” he often mused to himself, “then Gervaise and his peers are the hopeful future for our people.”

Gervaise had similar respectful feelings towards his patrons, seeing them as founding fathers in what would undoubtedly be a long but inexorable journey towards the great goal of complete equality and acceptance. Furthermore, he adored Cressida, who was generally the object of the van Bookshelf’s multifarious purchases and he admired the hell out of them for the way they so easily moulded themselves into a real family for her.

Today, however, the object of attention had shifted.

“Gervaise, my dear friend, could you show Ki what you’ve been hiding behind the counter for the last few months?”

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Gervaise winked and blew them a kiss, making the most of the inference.

“No, not that,” joked Bernard, teasingly.

“I think you mean this,” came the light reply.

Gervaise handed Kieran a small tooled-leather black box. “Didn’t know which colour wrapping paper to use,” he added, “you will of course recall the difficulties we had when choosing the wrapping paper for the pearl arrangement you originally acquired from us?”

Bernard smiled as he fondly remembered the heist, before drifting back to the here and now.

“Happy 10th Wedding Anniversary, love!” he said, warmly.

Kieran opened the box and his eyes alighted upon a simple chunky watch, styled in solid platinum. It was certainly not what he had been expecting and gave a half smile.

“I know what you’re going to say,” soothed Bernard gently, “It’s not quite your style, is it?”

“No, really, it’s lovely, Bernie,” protested Kieran, trying unsuccessfully to look grateful.

“Now, Ki, I’ve been married to you for ten years. I can tell insincere sincerity when I hear it.”

Kieran’s smile turned watery. Gervaise could instinctively feel the unease from behind the counter, and politely excused himself to the back room. There was certainly no-one else he’d ever leave the shop floor unattended for, but these days if the van Bookshelfs wanted pearls, they’d most certainly ask for them.

“There’s a reason behind this gift,” Bernard whispered, “please let me explain it to you?”

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**** Raine glanced up at the flat pack 1960s style library building with a similar look of trepidation to a predecessor of his, who had once entered those portals and lingered a while, both chained and unchained, many years before. Just as with that day, a serene silence enveloped the main room, as Raine marched into the main room, almost knocking over a young girl who was just leaving.

He soft shoed past the roaring glow in the Yorkshire sandstone fireplace, a large oil painting of Bernard in his younger days, winking rakishly through his monocle having pride of place above it.

Seated behind his desk, Bernard van Bookshelf was engrossed in a large weighty textbook. The picture on the cover of this great volume rather belied its seriousness featuring, as it did, a young man dressed in the skimpiest of undergarments whilst pointing excitedly at a large steel projectile.

Raine just had time to pick out the title, ‘Rocket Science for Homosexuals’ by Park and Young, when Bernard noticed him and set it down.

“Hello, Raine, sweetheart. Are you here on your own?”

Raine was seized with the sudden desire to rush out of the building whilst his sanity stayed intact, but kept trying to remember the words of Master Swimmer, about learning courage. It wouldn’t be very courageous to run away. At length he managed a nod.

“So, what can we do for you this fine morning?”

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“Erm…” ventured Raine, staring at the ground shamefaced, “Mum and Dad have asked if I can stay with you for a few days? They said they have some business to attend to and that I would just be in the way.”

“Oh really? You hear that Ki?” he shouted, “Raine’s going to sleep over!”

Raine blushed at the inference and was glad that his face was still tilted towards the carpet. He ventured a quick glance up, just in time to see Kieran pop his head out from behind one of the bookshelves, feather-duster in hand. He wore a look of sublime pleasure. “That’s nice, Bernie,” he said softly, before disappearing back behind the furniture.

“I must say Auntie Kieran’s looking really happy today,” observed Raine, thinking this might make an easy link into more casual conversation.

“Yes, yes he is, isn’t he?” Bernard agreed readily, before adding, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, “but there again, he always does look lovely when we’ve had a lot of sex.”

“W… what?”

“Well, it was our anniversary yesterday. We bought each other little gifts, went out to dinner, then to a show, and finally checked into this lovely little hotel where we had sex… erm… how many times did we have sex last night, Ki? Was it six or seven?”

“Eight times, I distinctly remember,” oozed the disembodied voice from behind the shelving, contentedly.

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Raine felt he had reached the end of himself but knew that he had barely scratched the surface.

Perhaps Master Swimmer was asking too much.

“I dare say your parents are gallivanting around the place with the monkeys in tow?”

“Yes, that’s right,” Raine replied, cautiously.

“They’ll be battling the Red Man by now, presumably?”

“I’m not sure I’m supposed to be talking about this with you. They are spooked out by some notes they have been receiving. Monkey says…”

Bernard swatted away the response. “It is of but little consequence,” he said, “the very fact that they farmed you out to us demonstrates their desperation more than words could ever say.”

Kieran joined them at the enquiry desk, gently sweeping some stray dust particles from the lapels of his lilac polyester suit, though to no avail, as the static just drew them back again.

“Was this expected, Bernie?”

“Very much so. I am sure Raine will be of great help in assisting us with our plans.”

“Now, hold on,” said Raine, warningly, “nobody said anything about helping you. I’m only here as an observer!”

Kieran paused for a moment, delving into his childhood memories and said “Raine, how would you feel about helping us with something your parents would thoroughly disapprove of?

Something that would let you get the better of them once and for all?”

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Raine raised an approving eyebrow and nodded.

“That sounds like an attractive proposition, Auntie Kieran,” he agreed, feeling a little brighter.

“The let us retire to the ante-room,” said Bernard, and we shall discuss our plans in detail. If you don’t like them, you are free to go back and tell the goody-goody gang all about them, but if you do, we would respectfully ask two things of you.”

“Go on?”

“Firstly, your assistance when you think it might be required. We’ll never demand anything from you.”

Raine thought these terms were rather favourable.

“Cool, and secondly?”

“I’d like you to have a look through our wardrobes and see if there’s something more fitting you’d prefer to wear. I don’t think we could look at the insides of a colon for the next few days, do you Ki?” “Well, you’ve always said you enjoyed…”

Bernard politely silenced his spouse with a magnanimous wave of the hand. “Not now, dear, not… whilst we have guests,” he soothed with a wry smile. “I believe, however that we should arrange for Cressida’s holiday immediately,” he concluded.

“So soon?” asked Kieran, sadly.

“Yes dear,” said Bernard, “so soon indeed.” **** Raine duly carried the suitcases. They were the acme of matched luggage, trimmed in ermine and peachstone suede and he felt as if he almost needed white gloves just to handle them.

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Volunteering for manual labour was definitely not what he had in mind when it came to helping Bernard and Kieran, but it was his choice and it sure beat having to deal with the sugar-shock princess who was currently waltzing up ahead of him in the waiting room of Leeds/Bradford Airport: that at least was a task he could leave, in all good conscience and to his eternal relief, to the adoring parents.

“This is going to be such fun!” lisped Cressida excitedly, “did you really put me on our own private jet, Daddy?”

“Only the best for our very special lady,” smiled Bernard, “now listen, love, Mummy has some things to remind you.”

Cressida tried to calm herself down just a shade whilst Kieran stooped over her protectively. “When you land at Schipol, Ans will be waiting for you.

You remember Ans, don’t you?”

“Yes, she’s Gerdi’s partner, isn’t she?”

“Oh you are as sharp as a tack again today, princess!” chuckled Bernard. Then seeing Kieran’s ‘I’ve not finished being serious with her yet’ look, he put his head down and fell back into obedient silence.

“That’s right,” continued Kieran, “she’s going to be looking after you for the week. If you have any problems or if you have any more dreams, or even if you just feel lonely, use your mobile to call us, yes?”

Cressida beamed, fumbled in a little shiny puce plastic handbag and produced a baby-pink mobile

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telephone, which she waggled in her mum’s face like a dog-toy, to prove that she had brought it.

“I’ll miss you, Mummy,” she sniffed, the reality of her imminent departure finally dawning.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” soothed Kieran, giving her a gentle cuddle, “you go have some fun at the riding stables and you’ll be back home with us before you know it!”

Raine gave a watery smile at the tearful parting and set about handing the luggage over at the desk. One of the lessons he had learnt, and learnt well from the van Bookshelfs was that parents, irrespective of their sexuality, were universally embarrassing.

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Four “I can’t quite understand why we have to go to the college at all, Monkey,” moaned Zoltan.

“Because, you great lycra-clad moron, that is where the notes came from. If Bernard is up to his old tricks there, it should soon become apparent what is going on.”

“But the place looks so… dirty!” said Anna, wrinkling her nose.

“You sure you want to go in here?” Zoltan asked her.

Anna sighed and shrugged her shoulders. “If it means we can find out why Bernard sent those notes, I suppose we ought to go in. What is that smell?”

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Hearno sniffed in thinly veiled disgust in the direction of the once glorious neo-gothic entrance.

“Urine” he drawled, quite without emotion.

On the side of the building, a rusty plaque proclaimed that Towndale Community College was once the alba matter of Aloicious Slaithwaite, inventor of the sonic pork pie, but this honorable turn-of-the-century institution had obviously seen far, far better days.

“Raine enrolled on a course here once,” said Zoltan, “but we had to withdraw him when the skin infection he contracted from the door handles stopped responding to treatment.”

Monkey was slowly turning a subtle hue of peagreen. “Well,” he said, swallowing hard, “we don’t really have an option, do we?”

“We could investigate Bernard at the library first?”

Anna chimed in, eagerly, “at least Kieran keeps the library spotless.”

“We are here now,” Monkey sighed, resigned to the indignity, “let’s try to put a brave face on it.

Hopefully, if we can be quick enough in here, we can get out without contracting any unsightly diseases.”

Zoltan pushed the spit-spattered door open, negotiating a sea of dog ends, sweet wrappers and crisp packets. A beautiful vestibule, faded by years of neglect, stood before them. On either side of the entrance hall, sheets of marble, engraved with the names of proud Edwardian Aldermen and benefactors lay half buried beneath marker penned obscenities, including several that were new to Zoltan and Anna. A beautiful carved 69

wooden staircase bore the tattoos of ownership from three decades of illiterate yobs. Richly moulded plasterwork shared the fate of the once delicately tinctured stained glass windows they surrounded, both equally stifled by cloying, peeling paintwork.

Yet, even for all this abuse and neglect, the saddest thing about the scene before them was the utter desolation. Mid-August and with all the students gone, the silence was deafening.

Monkey seethed in the white sound, warming with bitter recollection to the dreaded Baron’s long abandoned plan to turn the youth of Towndale into a productive force by the intervention of his hypnotic powers coupled with the legendary and rightly feared ‘gay-doh’ machine.

Then it was, as if by magic, his thought of that particular devil conjured up a personal appearance. Zoltan, Anna and the monkeys ducked under the staircase as they heard an unmistakably fruity cackle rising from the car park.

The front doors burst open and Bernard, attired in a thickly quilted vermilion smoking jacket and philosopher’s pill-box hat, complete with the obligatory tassel, hove into view, flanked by Kieran, Raine and a seedy little man in a very poorly cut suit.

“I’m so glad that you could attend today, Mr. van Bookshelf,” oozed the man obsequiously, “I feel sure that the kickboxing macramé townswomen’s guild will be simply thrilled to hear more about your latest Ys detergent campaign… and such a 70

worthy cause,” he added, with a rub of his oily little hands.

“Indeed so, Principal Detritus,” boomed Bernard cheerfully, “The Ys ‘Clean up space, as well as your clothes’ campaign is gaining a steady following both here and in the Netherlands. Why, with every 4000 tokens collected, we can retrieve an entire derelict satellite and return it safely to earth for recycling!”

Raine, who was looking decidedly queasy being in his old college, interrupted with a surprisingly sensible observation. “How are you going to get upstairs to the lecture theatre, Uncle Bernard?”

“Oh, that’s easy Raine, sweetheart. I’ll just float up on my levitational jets. Could you please activate them at the back for me, Ki… Ki?” There was no response. Bernard whipped around in his chair.

“Ki, what in God’s tights are you doing?”

Kieran stared in ashen-faced horror at a halfdecayed pigeon, impaled by several syringes, which perched precariously on the tarnished brass light pendant above them. Principal Detritus grabbed an outdated prospectus from the floor and instantly took an unnaturally high interest in its contents. In fact, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the copy. It seemed as though one of the angelic students had stapled the cover of the prospectus to the June 2009 issue of Razzle. The Principal checked that no one was watching and sneaked the magazine into his inside pocket.

Bernard took his spouse gently by the hand.

“There’s precious little we can do for that poor bird, my heart,” he whispered. “I know what you’re 71

thinking, but several years with a feather duster wouldn’t even begin to tidy this place. Just concentrate on why we’re really here, dear?”

“Yes, yes, you’re quite right,” Kieran cooed nervously. He switched on the levitational jets as requested and together the four men slowly ascended the staircase.

“Phew, that was a close one!” exclaimed Zoltan, watching to make sure the Baron had gone.

“I don’t like this,” growled Monkey, darkly, “I don’t like this one little bit. Anna, you yourself remarked on Kieran’s legendary tidiness, almost rivaled to your very own Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.

Why on earth would he forgo his principles in order to take his spouse here?”

“More to the point, how are we going to clear up Raine’s dermatitis should it flare up again?” said Anna.

“Oh do shut up about skin diseases, woman!” snapped Monkey irritably.

“I will not! Do you know how much we spent on hand cream for that boy?” flashed Anna, her cheeks hot with anger.

“Listen, I don’t care if you had to re-mortgage for his dainty little pinkies,” railed Monkey, “now is not the time, okay?”

“You keep that sock puppet away from me…”

Anna warned Zoltan, “…or I’ll turn him into a ball of threadbare wool!”

Monkey stuck out his tongue.

“Stop it, stop it, both of you!” shouted Zoltan, angrily, “we’re not here to scratch each other’s 72

eyes out. We’re here to discover the identity of the… the… Anna?”

Anna stared wide-eyed and skywards. A spilt second later she pulled Zoltan into a tight embrace.

“Well, Anna, this is a turn-up for the books,” Zoltan giggled amorously, “and I haven’t even dressed up as Ruud for you!”

With a lively crash, a hefty iron Edwardian safe embedded itself into the grime encrusted parquet floor just where Zoltan had been standing trying to keep the peace a moment before.

Zoltan gasped as his heart pounded hard in his chest. Husband and wife held each other in tight terror, neither wanting to be the first to let go; Anna because she was shaking, Zoltan because he wasn't sure whether he had wet himself or not.

Monkey and Hearno bounded up the stairs, screaming obscenities that would have made even the most hardened student blush. The echo of their cries died away and Zoltan and Anna were plunged back into the drowning silence. **** “And so in conclusion,” beamed Bernard, “I should like to once again urge you all to endorse our fabulous new Ys detergent promotion. The ‘Clear up Space’ campaign will, I have no doubt, have untold benefits to our natural environment both here on earth and in the heavens. I further urge you to…”

Bernard stopped abruptly as the lecture theatre doors were flung open noisily.

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“There you are, you evil assassin!” screamed Monkey, dramatically, “surrender thyself immediately, or face my wrath unleashed!”

Just over a hundred polite middle-aged ladies attired in their Sunday finery, turned and glared at the two monkeys in undisguised incredulity.

“Monkey?” gasped Raine, blinking in complete disbelief.

“Ah…” stammered Monkey, looking around the room, “I… appear to have made a most unfortunate mistake… ‘anger management’ class must be next door…”

He bowed politely to the ladies, nodded to Bernard, who had a look of surprised amusement on his face and backed slowly out of the room, slamming the lecture room doors shut.

Hearno arched his eyebrows.

“It’s not them.”

“Eh?” “I said IT’S NOT THEM!” “What’s not what?” asked Zoltan, as he and Anna joined them.

“I’ve just seen Bernard,” said Monkey, wearily, “The van Bookshelfs, Raine and the Principal have been in the lecture theatre the whole time.”

“Well, they say that, but do they have witnesses?” asked Zoltan, scratching his head.

Monkey made a motion that inferred that, had he possessed hands, he would now have propped them on his hips. “Only the hundred or so silly old biddies who haven’t been able to keep their eyes off Mr. Evil Wheelchair Man and his posse of weirdos the whole time. Honestly Zoltan, 74

sometimes you really are so thick you’d make prison porridge look runny. Of course there are witnesses!”

“For you information, Monkey, one of those ‘weirdos’ was our son… and if that’s your attitude, I’m going,” sniffed Zoltan, his tummy starting to rumble.

“Well I see you don’t need to take a course on interpersonal skills, do you, dear brother?” muttered Hearno as Zoltan and Anna headed off.

“Oh, I see you heard THAT one, you cloth-eared ape!” snapped Monkey. **** “Mmmm… now that Monkey mentioned prison porridge I feel really hungry,” said Zoltan, “I wonder if this place has a little restaurant or something?”

Anna noticed a sign pointing to the refectory and together they walked into a large room that must once have been magnificent. Ornately carved stone columns extended from marble floor to filigreed ceiling, but on to these a number of iron frames with yellow plastic bucket seats and melamine tables had been crudely welded. In the corner a number of fizzy drink and snack machines thrummed and stared their advertising blurb into the empty space. Zoltan noticed casually that some model student had hacked their way through a chocolate vending machine and ransacked the contents.

At the very end of the room, a plywood counter, peeling pitifully to reveal the bare wood fibre was securely locked and shuttered. Zoltan cast his 75

mind back fleetingly to the last time he had watched ‘The Alamo’ on TV at the sight.

“Doesn’t look like we’re going to get anything here,” said Anna.

“Oh, but I am. I most certainly am!” came a highpitched voice, giggling maniacally, apparently from no-where.

With a scream, Anna plummeted through the floor via a trapdoor cleverly disguised with a liberal scattering of chocolate bar wrappings littered around the vandalised vending machine.

Zoltan spun around to see his wife disappear through the floor and dived through the hole in an effort to catch her, finding himself sliding down what he could only guess had been some sort of laundry chute. However, by the time he had reached the bottom and clawed his way from a mouldy sea of discarded garments (whilst making a note not to tell Monkey of this discovery for fear of a hysterical outburst from the sensitive simian) he could see two figures bundling his struggling wife into a van in the distance. He tried to get to his feet and chase after them but found his feet had become entangled in a discarded cardigan and he tripped face first into a selection of old yfronts. He clambered back to his feet but before he could reach his wife and her abductors, the van had sped away.

Zoltan fell to his knees and put his head in his hands. Presently, he felt a woolly paw on his shoulder.

“Go away, Monkey,” he sobbed.

“I saw it, I saw it all,” said Monkey quietly.

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“Then why didn’t you DO anything?”

“I was too far away, but I did do one thing that might be useful.”

Zoltan turned his tear-streaked face up to the sock puppet. “What, Monkey? What could you possibly have done that might help in this situation.”

“I noticed the signage on the side of the van. It was… very revealing.” came the reply. **** Raine briefly glanced out of the window, wondering what on earth his father was doing, kneeling on the pavement, before his attention was snapped back to the here and now.

“Glass of cheap wine?” quipped Kieran with a wry smile.

Raine grinned back and took the glass being offered to him. The delicious irreverence employed by his erstwhile Auntie and Uncle to any form of authority or social normality was something that he was rapidly acquiring a taste for.

“It is always a pleasure to attend a lecture from one of Towndale’s greatest minds,” gushed Principal Detritus with a leering smile.

“You’re more than welcome,” Bernard replied, magnanimously, “your kind donation of those historic NASA specification blueprints, especially those gorgeous 1960’s and 70’s editions, have been a real coup for the public library!”

The Principal nodded but started to shift about uncomfortably. Bernard knew what was coming, and it had been the only reason he had agreed to present the lecture in the first place.

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“Is there anything else?” he proffered.

“Well… I was wondering if I may be able to prevail again very shortly on your… appreciation of our donation?”

Bernard smiled encouragingly, knowing exactly what the Principal was about to ask.

“It’s just that, well, we have our main student induction in just over a week’s time and I was hoping that you might be able to be a guest speaker on the day?”

Raine noticed Kieran betray a conspiratorial wink to his spouse.

“Normally of course I’d refuse such a public duty,” said Bernard flatly. The Principal’s face fell. “But,” he continued, “in your case I shall be happy to make a notable exception. I will see if I can devise something appropriate. Perhaps one of my stirring motivational speeches?”

“Excellent!” exclaimed Principal Detritus, “motivation is something our students so often seem to lack these days.”

“Rest assured, my friend, once I have spent ten minutes alone with your young charges, they will feel very motivated. Very motivated indeed!”

Bernard muffled an avaricious chuckle and settled down to his glass of Lithuanian Merlot and the tender mercies of the kickboxing macramé Townswomen’s Guild. **** “Right, you two!” yelled Monkey as he burst into the library, “I want to know exactly what you have been up to and I want to know what you have done with Anna!”

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“Monkey, how simply enchanting to see you again!” oozed Bernard, barely looking up from his book.

“Cut the pleasantries, you dastardly, devious pair!

I want answers NOW, Bernard, you evil fiendmaster!”

Kieran stepped from behind the Self-Improvement and Life Skills shelf. “Now listen here, Monkey!” he warned, “I am tired of this attitude of yours.

Twice now you have made false accusations towards my spouse and I. I simply won’t stand for it any longer, do you hear?”

“I know you are up to something and I am determined to find out what! Why do you keep sending malicious mail to Zoltan? I thought he was your friend?”

Bernard made a pyramid of his fingers and turned the idea over in his head. “Zoltan? He is our friend, Monkey,” he soothed.

“Then why did you try and crush him with a dirty great safe?”

“Someone did that?” gasped Kieran, a look of exaggerated shock on his face.

“As if you didn’t know!” snapped Monkey.

“I’m sorry, Monkey,” came Bernard’s courteous reply, “I’m afraid I know nothing of any of this.

Perhaps the Red Man is behind it all?”

“The Red Man is dead, Baron, as you well know!

He was swallowed by a huge fish and is probably nothing more than the memory of a little fishy heartburn by now. You had just gone up the stairs when the safe fell and almost crushed Zoltan. You

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were there at the college when Anna went missing. What have you done with her?”

“Monkey, I can assure you that I have done nothing with the woman, nor any safe,” came the sugar-sweet reply, “neither of these criminal activities are in my nature.”

“Where is she? Chained up in the cellar? Don’t tell me you have started doing that again?”

“We haven't started anything again, Monkey,” fumed Kieran.

Just then, Raine walked in from the ante-room to see what the noise was. “Monkey!” he exclaimed, “what are you doing here?”

Monkey shifted nervously. “I just wanted to know what they have done with your mother!”

Raine laughed. “Of course you did! Monkey, if you wanted to know how I was you could easily have phoned?”

Monkey put his head into his little stubby paws.

“For the last time, Raine, your mother has been kidnapped and these two have… got… my God! You’re behind all of this, aren't you? This is some kind of payback, divine retribution for being ordered to have a bath the other day?”

Raine’s face dropped. “Tell me you are kidding?

You’re serious, aren’t you? You mean mum really has been kidnapped?”

“THAT’S WHAT I’VE BEEN TRYING TO TELL YOU, YOU STINKY PIZZA-FACED MORON!” “But how? Where?”

“Oh, I see… its ‘deny everything’ time, is it?”

“Monkey,” interrupted Bernard, “I know you have cloth ears, but surely even you can hear me when 80

I say that we are not involved in any of this. It is most unfortunate that Anna has gone missing and we certainly hope that you find her shortly and that she has come to no harm, and if there is anything we can do to help find her, you can be assured that we will. However, we were merely at the college to give a speech in connection with our Ys detergent campaign. I fail to see the crime in that?”

“But you were there! And the notes had marzipan stains on them!”

“And these points alone implicate us, do they?” spat Kieran.

“Well, the van that took her away was from Easer's chocolate factory. Do you deny that you have had regular contact with this establishment?”

Bernard nodded sagely, “Well, I did buy all of my marzipan fruit and luxury Belgian chocolates from there, I admit. Although I still fail to see how this makes me guilty of kidnap?”

Monkey was about to say something else when the telephone rang. With his face expressing something like mild amusement, Bernard answered the phone. “Hello, Towndale Library.

Meneer van Bookshelf speaking.”

It was Zoltan. “Hello, Bernard. Is Monkey there? I have some urgent news for him.”

Bernard pressed the speaker function on the telephone. “Yes, he is here, Zoltan. I have put you on speaker.”

“Monkey, its Zoltan.”

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“Yes, I gathered that. Probably something to do with Mr. Evil Wheelchair Man here mentioning your name.”

“Oh…” Zoltan paused, deciding that Monkey was probably in another of his moods, “it’s just that… well, we’ve had another note. I think you should take a look at this.”

Monkeys face dropped. “What have you done now?” he snarled at Bernard.

Bernard simply shrugged his shoulders and smiled. “You had better go,” he said, “it sounds as though Zoltan needs you. Kieran and I will be taking a trip to visit some old friends of ours in Amsterdam today. Raine will be accompanying us. That is, if we can avoid being accused of kidnapping him?”

Monkey stood shame-faced. “Yes, whatever,” he muttered, “although I know you are up to something. I will find out what you are doing and put a quick end to it, you mark my words!”

“Yes, yes Monkey, whatever you say. Now, go and find Anna and leave Kieran, Raine and I to attend to our overnight cases.”

Monkey slouched moodily out of the library, still no closer to finding Anna. It really wasn't the done thing for a puppet as supremely intelligent as he to come so spectacularly to the wrong conclusion.

However, it seemed as though this case might be a huge wrong tree that he was definitely barking up.

“Such a rude sock puppet, don’t you think?” asked Kieran, once the great library doors had slammed shut.

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“Indeed,” smiled Bernard, “yet I pity him. He thinks he has something on us, yet we are always half a dozen paces ahead of him. I believe we should step up our pace a little and continue with our plans in double-quick time.”

“What did you have in mind, Uncle Bernard?”

“As I told Monkey, we are going to visit some friends. We have a little business to take care of over in Amsterdam. Get a few things together, Raine. The Netherlands beckon!”

Raine swallowed hard. It was already a big thing, coping with the antics of his Auntie and Uncle; he had no idea how to cope with their Dutch friends as well.

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Five “If you want to sea your wife again come to easers choclat factry at midnight come alone,” read Monkey, “rather an unusual place to meet, don’t you think?”

Zoltan nodded. “Of course, I shall have to go along and find out what is happening. If it means I can get Anna back home, I will do whatever it takes."

Monkey frowned. “It is rather unusual that they have not left any ransom demands,” he mused, “I had better come along and help. It sounds very dangerous to me. I imagine there will be a bunch of booby traps for us to deal with.”

Zoltan shook his head. “No, Monkey, it says I should go alone. If they see you, they may kill Anna.”

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“You’re quite right of course,” countered Monkey, “so I shall ensure I stay well out of sight. Perhaps I can hide in the pocket of your golden cape? We can bring Hearno too, he is always good for a conversation. Please mate, let me come with you?

Please?"

Zoltan was about to protest further but saw the look of desperation in Monkeys eyes. “It is very kind of you, Monkey. I could do with your support,” he said at last. Despite his reservations, he knew that his friend might be of benefit and it seemed silly not to accept his help.

Besides, Monkey would only sulk if he didn’t get his own way.

Monkey placed his little paw on Zoltan’s arm, the first time he had ever really shown any affection towards his friend. Zoltan was taken aback by this gesture of friendship and found himself choked with emotion. “Thanks, Monkey,” he smiled, placing his hand on Monkeys woolly paw. For that brief moment, both heroes shared a feeling of total respect for each other.

Monkey had always felt a little sorry for Zoltan.

The man was definitely a couple of sandwiches short of a picnic and stupider than a stupid thing from the planet Stupid, always considered as the underdog, the spare part. In truth, a lot of the things that had happened since the two of them had first met now seemed to revolve around the hapless magician. For the first time in his long, woolly simian life Monkey began to doubt himself, began to wonder whether he was the one sent to save the world or whether that responsibility had 85

now passed to Zoltan. Perhaps, he thought, handing the responsibility of the world over to Zoltan was not such a bad idea? All good things must come to an end and everyone must have a successor. Monkey knew that the only way he could return to the comfort of his own, long forgotten home, was to rid the world of evil. The Big Guy had told him this, many years ago.

Perhaps then, the Big Guy had felt the need to pass the baton of responsibility to Zoltan? Monkey actually wished he could speak to the Big Guy and seek comfort and clarification of his role. He sighed, absently.

“Monkey?” said Zoltan, “are you listening to me?”

Monkey snapped out of his daydream. “Huh? What did you say, O Magnificent One?” “I said we should be going. It’s 11.30.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” smiled Monkey, weakly, briefly gazing at the clock on the wall.

"Come on, Big Guy, give me a sign? Tell me I'm doing the right thing?" **** With a few moments to spare, Zoltan and Monkey arrived outside Easer’s Chocolate Factory.

Silently, Monkey climbed into the pocket of Zoltan’s cape as they reached the gates.

"I'll be just here," he whispered, "call me if you need me?"

Bizarrely a note was stuck to the gate, fastened by a large blob of marzipan. Zoltan read it out aloud. “Zoltan follow the trail to see your wife if you dare.”

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Zoltan looked around, noticing a trail of chocolate drops leading from the main gate to the front entrance. “Follow the trail?" he pondered, looking around. "The only trail I can see is this one made out of chocolate drops. I wonder if this is the trail we are meant to follow?” he whispered to Monkey.

“I think it might be a distinct possibility,” sighed Monkey. Perhaps this was the sign from the Big Guy, Zoltan having shown once again how utterly stupid he was. He was probably the right monkey for the job after all, he thought.

Zoltan pushed the gate open slowly, cringing as the old, rusted gates creaked loudly. He wished he had brought his trusty can of spray lubricant; that would have maintained his element of surprise, he thought. After all, the kidnapper wasn't likely to have been expecting him.

The cloudy sky hid the last rays of light from the moon making midnight in the grounds of the factory almost as dark as if Zoltan was walking around with his eyes closed. The air was thick with the sickly sweet smell of chocolate and he found the silence in the courtyard was unnerving, causing a shiver to run down his spine.

“Try and magic up a torch or a candle,” whispered Hearno, perched on Zoltan's shoulder “see if we can get a bit of light, it might help.”

“Good idea!” Zoltan replied, taking from his pocket the well-worn stick that he had found at the bottom of the garden several years ago and had been used as a magic wand ever since. The useless lump of wood had been worn away to almost nothing from years of handling and waving 87

and was riddled with woodworm by now.

Nervously, Zoltan waved his wand and whispered some magic words. One blinding flash and cloud of smoke later and hey presto!

A door handle.

“Yes,” sighed Monkey, “I can see how that would be of use to us.” Silently, he cursed himself for even suggesting the idea.

“Sorry,” said Zoltan, carefully placing the handle on the ground, “I’ll try again.”

“No, don’t bother. You might end up conjuring up another talking vegetable or something!”

“Talking vegetable?” asked Zoltan, puzzled.

“Like that talking tomato you keep going on about.”

“I don't keep going on about a talking tomato? I merely mentioned that I had seen one, some time ago. Besides, a tomato is a fruit, not a vegetable! I have it on good authority!”

“Quite,” sighed Monkey, wishing he had never brought the blessed subject up, “although these talking tomatoes are never there when you need them, are they? I mean, without the guidance of Dick van Dyke the Cockney Tomato, how will we ever manage to survive?”

“Shh!” urged Zoltan as they approached the main entrance, “keep out of sight, remember!”

“But of course, Mr. the Magnificent. I had forgotten just how unimportant I have become and how so very important you are. Forgive me for such an outburst!”

“Monkey, stop it! They’ll hear you!”

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“Oh, fine!” sulked Monkey, “Anna goes missing so let’s all take it out on Monkey! I see how this is working. It’s all my fault now, is it? Let's all conveniently forget how it was I who saw the van taking Anna away and how it was I who saved you all on countless occasions in the past. Let's all...”

“Monkey," interrupted Zoltan, cautiously, “is something bothering you?”

“Bothering me? Good Heavens, no! Why should I be bothered that an inept magician is taking over as the single most important person in this whole story? Why should I care that after all I have done for the world I am now being tossed aside like a dirty hanky? It doesn’t bother me in the slightest that everything revolves around you these days, that I am merely regarded as a sock puppet, not as the incredible simian hero I know I am. It doesn't bother me in the slightest that, despite my countless years of saving the world from the forces of evil, time and time again, I am to be playing second fiddle to you, like some sort of common comedy sidekick.”

“Oh well, if you’re sure you’re ok…”

“Just open the door, Zoltan!”

The two monkeys dipped inside the pocket in Zoltan's cape and hid from view.

Zoltan did as he was told and was immediately dazzled by a brilliant white light, a light that suddenly brought back forgotten memories of Dahut and the hotel room incident, many years ago, when he and Monkey had stopped the Red Man from taking over the world.

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As his eyes got used to the change in brightness, he realised that he was standing at the start of a long, brightly-lit corridor, a corridor so long that he could not see the end. Dotted along the floor continued the trail of chocolate drops.

“Guess it’s this way then?” whispered Zoltan as he stepped inside the factory.

“Be careful!” Hearno replied, his voice tinged with an air of genuine concern. **** The trail of chocolate drops led them along the very long corridor and ended at a locked door with an electronic keypad with a neon blue screen that patiently waited for someone to type in the entrance code.

“What is the code, Monkey?” whispered Zoltan.

“How am I supposed to know?” asked Monkey, jumping onto Zoltan’s shoulder, “just press anything! There can’t be that many combinations, surely?”

“Depends how many digits it needs, “said Hearno, helpfully, “if it only needs 2 numbers, there are only 99 combinations. If it needs 6 numbers, you’re talking just under a million. If you work through them all at one combination a second, it would take around 11.5 days, assuming you use every combination and the correct one was the only one left. Obviously, the odds of that happening would decrease as...” he paused when he saw Monkey looking at him with an expression of pure annoyance. He began to offer a few useful combination suggestions but none were particularly successful. Zoltan began pressing 90

random buttons in the hope of finding the correct combination by accident.

Monkey jumped onto Zoltan's shoulder to observe the proceedings. Several minutes and countless combinations later, the door remained firmly locked. Monkey shook his head in temper. “For goodness sake, what is going on here?” he ranted, “This is so frustrating! I am so sick of everything constantly going wrong for us! Why can’t we just press any old buttons and have a bit of luck for once? That’s what would happen in the movies. Why, why, why, wh…” Monkey’s tantrum made him fall off Zoltan’s shoulder and he landed heavily, face down on the keypad, which fizzed and crackled with electricity as the delicate circuitry overloaded, causing the whole panel to catch fire, the lights above Zoltan’s head to explode and the door to open.

Zoltan and Hearno stared at each other, wideeyed and mildly amused before walking through the door and into the darkened room. Zoltan fumbled for a light switch and flicked it on, instantly flooding the room with light. Monkey got to his feet, his face slightly singed by the keypad fire. He scurried after Zoltan and Hearno who were already through the door.

They were inside a huge room, filled with a massive freezer, oven and vats of molten chocolate. Suspended over one of the vats and bound by liquorice and strawberry laces was Anna, who was cursing and struggling against her bonds. And the fact that the liquorice was leaving stains on her arms.

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“About time too,” she protested, “this liquorice is really cutting into me and this is milk chocolate I am being suspended over – you know I only like plain!”

Zoltan tried to ignore the protests and surveyed the mechanics of the winch system that was holding his wife captive. A series of pulleys and liquorice were tied off at some railings on the other side of the room. He ran over to the railings and began untying the candy ropes. He briefly considered allowing Anna to drop into the chocolate but soon realised that she would be unbearable to live with for weeks while she continuously scrubbed herself clean of the chocolate.

“I knew you’d come, Zoltan!” came a high-pitched voice from behind him. Zoltan spun around to see a short, extremely fat man, probably in his early twenties, grinning madly at him. Zoltan found that he felt physically sick as he noticed the mans rotten teeth and greasy, spotty complexion.

“Who are you?” asked Zoltan, “what do you want with me?”

“You mean you don’t know?” asked the man, almost hurt. He stretched both arms out wide and slowly turned around in full circle, allowing Zoltan to view the full, massive waistline, complete with dozens of flabby spare tyres and sickly view of a cellulite-rich builders bottom.

“Can’t say I do,” Zoltan replied, “why don’t you enlighten me?”

The kidnapper threw his head back and laughed, a high-pitched squeaky sound which barely 92

sounded human. “I’m Walt! Walt Easer, owner of this fine establishment!” he announced with a flourish.

Zoltan still looked puzzled.

“You don’t remember me, do you?” Walt asked, his voice etched with disappointment.

Zoltan curled his lip in disdain. “Should I? I’m usually quite good with names and faces of wife kidnappers. I’ll tell you what, why don’t I ask you again – what do you want?”

Walt took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped a gallon of sweat from his face. “Revenge, Zoltan. That’s all I want. Revenge!”

“But revenge for what? I’ve never seen you before in my life! What could I have ever done to you?”

“Done to me? DONE TO ME?” yelled Walt, “you MADE me! I am the man that I have become because of you, Zoltan! Everything about me is because of you.”

Monkey and Hearno ran over to join Zoltan.

“What’s going on?” asked Monkey.

“This is the man who kidnapped Anna,” Zoltan replied.

“Is it indeed? Well, I demand you let her go this very instant!” challenged the little sock puppet, trying his best to make himself look bigger.

Walt was furious. “I told you to come alone!” he yelled, “this was supposed to be between you and me, Zoltan!”

“Oh, keep your greasy hair on!” taunted Monkey, “what can two sock puppets do to you? We could always jump on your feet or something?"

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“I… suppose you’re right,” said Walt, “besides, it does even things out a little. Five against one was a little excessive, in my opinion. Five against three is much more acceptable.”

As he said this, Walt clicked his fingers and from behind one of the vats of chocolate stepped three tall figures and one very, very short one. Monkey recognised them all instantly. He turned to the tiny figure, that of that most sinister of sock puppets, Egg. “Of course! I guessed you might have been behind all this!” he lied.

Egg stared silently at Monkey, his fried egg eyes showing no sign of emotion. “We have unfinished business,” he drawled at last, “we knew you wouldn’t be able to resist sticking your nose in where it isn’t needed. I was relying on this fact to get you here.”

“Oh yes?” teased Monkey, “and what is this unfinished business of which you speak?”

Egg glared at his adversary. “You destroyed my empire! You ruined my trade in Matawongan Tree Frog exports! I had a successful business and you interfered. I lost everything, Monkey, and it’s all down to you.”

“Ah… yes... that…” began Monkey, “But that plan of yours, using the mind-altering powers of the oil in the skin of Matawongan Tree Frogs would never have worked. The frogs you were exporting to France never reached the general public. The entire batch of frogs legs were devoured by one very crazy man. And he says that they were too tough anyway. But that doesn’t explain why you did all this? Why Anna, for goodness sake?”

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Egg smiled. “Anna is not my problem; it is my good friend Mr. Easer here that wanted revenge on Zoltan, not me.”

“Which,” interrupted Zoltan, “is what I am trying to establish. What is this all about, Walt? Why all the talk of revenge? I mean, by all means exact your evil revenge on me but at least give me some idea what it is I am supposed to have done to you?”

Walt stepped closer to Zoltan. “It is really rather simple; it’s about you turning me into the freak that I am today. It’s about you causing me to look like this hideous creature and ultimately the reason I can’t get a girlfriend. Not even an ugly one. Not even a desperate one. Heck, not even one from Doncaster! You and your rubbish magic have caused me many years of pain, suffering and misery. Ever since you turned my Mr. Snuggles into a bag of sugar I have vowed to get my revenge upon you.”

“Your Mr. Snuggles?” laughed Zoltan.

“Do not mock me, Mr. The Magnificent. You took Mr. Snuggles, my favorite teddy bear from me.”

It was beginning to come back to Zoltan now.

These events all happened over fifteen years ago.

Zoltan was a rookie magician; he had been entertaining a bunch of children at Towndale Primary School and had tried to turn a young boy’s teddy bear into a fluffy white rabbit. As usual, however, his trick had gone wrong and, instead of a rabbit, the boy was left holding a bag of sugar. Zoltan might have been able to turn the bag of sugar into something else for the boy but his performance had been interrupted by a car 95

hitting a lamppost outside the school; the driver of that car being Anna, so sparking the bizarre chain of events that eventually saw the two of them become man and wife.

“Ok, I now remember you. I cannot understand why you blame me for your… weight problem?”

Walt clasped his hands behind his back and paced slowly backwards and forwards, his tremendous girth causing him to waddle from side to side as he walked. “After you stole Mr. Snuggles from me, I took to comfort eating. I started with the bag of sugar, then went on to chocolate and finally to anything that tasted remotely sweet. I found myself picking up discarded toffee wrappers, licking them until there was no trace of sugar left on them. I would drain the last drops out of empty pop cans found in people's recycling bins to get my sugar fix. When my father died and left me this chocolate factory I found that I couldn’t stop eating my own creations.

Eventually, as you can see, I became so fat and so hideously ugly that I dare not even venture outside, making me even more dependent on my comfort food. For the past years I have been plotting my revenge on you.”

“Yes, yes,” said Monkey impatiently, “You’ve done that bit already! Why is Egg here?”

“Egg has issues with you, Monkey. He and I met by chance at the Annual Antagonists Association Conference in Barnsley and soon realised that we could both have our revenge on the two of you at the same time. Egg and I came up with the kidnap idea and using his evil henchmen, Tarquin, 96

Farquhar and Marcus, we took Anna from you at the college. The three men stepped forward at the mention of their names. It appeared that they too wanted to exact their revenge on Zoltan and Monkey – they had lost their homes, their jobs, and in Tarquin’s case, his consciousness as Monkey had beaten him about the head several times with a piece of pipe as the desperate sock puppet had tried to escape from Matawonga.

“Not yet, boys!” said Egg, raising his knitted arm.

The three men immediately stopped in their tracks. “After all, we have been plotting our revenge for so long. Let us not rush things, lest we ruin our carefully calculated plans!”

Monkey sighed. “Will you stop it with this “we’ve been plotting our revenge” thing? I’ve heard it too many times now!”

“What’s that?” asked Hearno.

“This bunch of hapless criminals…”

“What about them?”

“They’ve been plotting their revenge against us…”

“For many years!” interrupted Walt.

“Yes, I KNOW!” screamed Monkey, steam practically coming out of his ears, "I was about to add that!"

“What did he say?” asked Hearno of Zoltan.

“SHUT UP!” yelled Monkey, “SHUT UP, ALL OF YOU!” Everyone fell silent. Nervous glances were exchanged by all. A subtle breeze blew through the factory, carrying with it the obligatory tumbleweed, watched by nine pairs of eyes.

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“Well, I’m sure there was no need for such a dramatic outburst!” exclaimed Tarquin at last.

“Indeed,” added Farquhar, “quite unnecessary, in my opinion.”

“And frightfully rude,” quipped Marcus.

“I positively refuse to be spoken to in that tone of voice,” said Tarquin, “particularly by that annoying Monkey. I’m leaving!” Farquhar and Marcus nodded in agreement and followed him, uttering pointless but well-spoken curses under their breath, carefully closing the door behind them.

“Oh dear,” Monkey sniggered, “it would appear that the hired muscle behind your operation has deserted you! Such a pity, don't you think?”

“No matter,” Egg replied, “we have you right where we want you. We’ve been waiting for this day…” “… for many years,” finished Monkey, “Yes, I think we have worked that out by now.”

Anna sighed deeply. "Is there any chance I can be released some time before next Easter?"

For some reason, everyone ignored her. Walt and Egg were too busy concentrating on trying to look intimidating. Zoltan and Monkey were actually quite relieved at having had so long without Anna's incessant tidying and, considering the mess they had left the house in, thought it may be a good idea if she stayed kidnapped for a while.

Hearno, to be honest, didn't hear her.

“So what have you got planned for us?” asked Zoltan, beginning to tire of all the conversation.

“Why, I’m going to kill you, of course!” came Walt's high-pitched voice, excited by the prospect 98

that his long-made plans were about to come to fruition.

“And you are going to do this by…”

“By making you the final ingredients in my latest culinary creation! This will be my piece de résistance, a complete work of art, if I may say so myself. ” Zoltan raised an eyebrow. "That actually sounds like quite an imaginative plan. What is your new recipe, may I ask?"

“Baked Alaska! Made to my own personal and very secret recipe,” announced Walt proudly.

“Ooh! My favorite!” smiled Zoltan.

Walt's face changed to one of surprise. “Really?”

“Yes! That’s the ice cream and meringue thing, isn’t it?”

“You surprise me, Zoltan. I didn’t have you down as the culinary type,” Walt smiled appreciatively, “although my recipe has the added ingredient of human flesh. Yes, it sounds a little disgusting but I can assure you, it really brings out the flavour of the ice cream. I have been using extract of human in my ice cream for a number of years already.”

Egg looked at Walt accusingly. “Well, don’t just stand there complimenting each other! Let’s get down to killing them brutally!”

“How do you propose to kill us?” asked Zoltan.

“Simple. I intend drowning you all in the ice cream before freezing you solid. If that doesn’t kill you all, you will then perish in the heat of the oven as the meringue topping is cooked.”

Zoltan and Monkey stared at each other, stifling a giggle as best they could.

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“Well, that is probably the worst and most convoluted evil plan I have ever heard of! And for such a tenuous reason for revenge! However, I do have one question, if I may?” said Monkey at last, “what is meringue made of?”

“Well,” began Walt, happy that he was being taken seriously at last, “predominantly beaten egg whites and sugar. They are folded together gently and...”

“Egg whites, you say?” mused Monkey, staring at Egg, “as in ‘white part of an egg’?”

“Yes…” said Walt, hesitantly, “why do you ask?”

“Oh, no reason,” Monkey continued, “just that I suppose you can’t make a meringue without breaking a few eggs…” Again, he looked directly at Egg as he said this. Egg was beginning to feel decidedly uncomfortable. The slightly deranged sock puppet hopped onto Walt’s shoulder. “You… weren’t planning on using me in your meringue, were you?” he stammered.

“No, of course not!” smiled Walt, “we are partners, aren’t we?”

“He doesn’t sound too convincing to me, Zoltan… what do you think?” teased Monkey. Zoltan shook his head.

“I wasn’t! I swear to you!” said Walt, panicking, “honestly, Egg, the thought never even crossed my mind.”

“Oh, I get it!” said Monkey, “deny it all! It’s ok Walt, your secret is safe with us,” he winked.

“Get what? What secret?” asked Walt, becoming more agitated.

“It’s ok Walt, say no more. We understand.”

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Egg was fretful. “You were going to use me, weren’t you?”

“I wasn’t, Egg. Honest!”

“Egg, he was!” said Zoltan, “You can tell by his eyes!”

“Don’t let him ‘beat’ you, Egg!” said Hearno.

Egg produced a pistol from behind his back. He pointed it at Walt’s head. Zoltan stepped back in surprise.

“Ok,” said Egg, “I know what you are all up to and it won’t work, do you hear? Now if you don’t mind, I would appreciate it if you could all step into the ice cream machine before I shoot this fat bloke.

And Zoltan? Leave your wand outside, there’s a good chap! I know how creative you can be with your wood.”

Reluctantly, Zoltan carefully placed his wand on the floor and he and the two monkeys stepped into the giant ice cream machine. Giggling maniacally, Walt closed the door firmly behind them and pressed the “On” button. Immediately the cooling system was activated and the temperature began to drop.

“This is most unfortunate,” sighed Monkey, “it’s a little chilly in here. Still, I suppose it could be worse – he could have added the ice cream and matted my fur…”

Of course, at that precise moment a flap opened above their heads and in rushed hundreds of gallons of liquid ice cream. Monkey and Hearno shrieked and jumped up onto Zoltan’s shoulders.

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“Oh great,” moaned Zoltan, “here we go again.

Why can’t you keep your big woolly mouth shut, Monkey? He might have forgotten that bit!”

“We have to get out of here, Zoltan!” whined Hearno.

“Yes, I can see that. What do you propose we do?

My wand is outside and there is no-one left to save us. Anna is tied up by liquorice laces and suspended over a barrel of chocolate, Raine has gone off on some damn foolish voyage with the van Bookshelfs. Face it, we’re doomed this time.”

Ice cream continued to flood the chamber and Zoltan was now waist deep in the stuff. He banged on the metal door, tried to shoulder-barge it open but without luck. He looked up to where the ice cream continued to pour into the tank and tried to climb up the walls and close the flap, but the cylindrical walls were too slippery to be able to climb. The temperature continued to drop and the ice cream began to solidify around his feet.

Monkey was about to complain but quickly changed his mind.

“I’m scared,” sniffed Hearno, frozen snot hanging from his nose.

And so it was, that moment in time, that Zoltan and his little monkey friends realised that this was the end of the road for them. They had survived so many dangers, fought so many of the forces of evil, yet they had been truly outwitted by a fat bloke with a chocolate addiction. They felt a collective disappointment among themselves for allowing this to happen.

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And so it was, that without warning, and as quickly as it had begun, the ice cream stopped flooding the room and the cooling system switched itself off.

The three semi-frozen heroes looked at each other in silence as the ice cream began to drain through a grate in the floor, the door to the giant freezer burst open and Anna stood before them, looking somewhat annoyed. Or decidedly peeved.

Or indeed, rather hacked off.

“I figured that none of you were about to save me so I took matters into my own hands! Typical of you lot,” she moaned, “I’ve been waiting for hours.

I have to suffer the indignity of being suspended over chocolate while you fools play in the freezers. And how long will it take before these liquorice stains wash off? I may have to bath in bleach for the next week or so."

At this point, it should be noted that bathing in bleach is not a very clever idea and should not be attempted by anyone, even if it is to remove liquorice stains.

“But… but how?” stammered Monkey, “you were t-t-tied up tighter than the s-s-s-stomach area of Zoltan’s l-l-lycra superhero costume!”

“Yes, but a nice woman appeared out of nowhere and helped me by untying me. She left before I could thank her.”

“N-n-nice woman? Who w-w-was she?” shivered Monkey, “I didn’t s-s-see anyone here?”

“How should I know? I'm not your social secretary!

I’m not even sure where she came from, she seemed to appear out of nowhere. Egg and Walt 103

locked you in the freezer and went off somewhere and the next thing I knew, the woman was helping me down. Her face looked really familiar, like someone I’d known and forgotten about a long time ago. Probably a cleaning lady here or some old school friend of mine. Anyway, what does it matter?”

Zoltan looked puzzled, “what did she look like? I might know her?”

“Oh, Zoltan, you know I’m not good with faces.

She had very long black hair, quite pretty, very slim, bright green eyes.”

Monkey frowned again. “That narrows it down a lot,” he grumbled, “though, strangely I can only think of one person that matches your description.

It wasn’t… Dahut?"

“Oh, Monkey, don’t be stupid!” mocked Zoltan, “you mean the woman that helped release the Red Man from Tartarus? She died years ago!

Have you lost your marbles?”

Monkey looked hurt. “I didn’t say it was definitely her, did I? I was only suggesting that it could have been because she was the only…”

“It was her,” interrupted Anna, “I’m certain of it! It was definitely her. I remember now!”

As they made their way home, Zoltan telephoned the police station to report the kidnapping.

Incredibly, Sergeant Kerr agreed to arrest Walt and Egg at the very earliest opportunity. Which could be next week, as he had a lot of paperwork to catch up with.

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“Monkey, how could Dahut come back?” asked Anna, “dead people don’t tend to come back to life, and they certainly don’t usually help the people they hate.”

“I have a theory,” smiled the little sock puppet, “I believe that this could be the work of the Red Man, once again. As she could easily blend into the background and knows her way around the modern world, she would be the ideal ally for him.”

“Perhaps the Red Man built a machine to recreate her?” suggested Hearno, “like some sort of cloning experiment?”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous!” snapped Monkey, “the most evil being the world has ever seen, has he ever been known to build a machine? You really are quite thick, aren’t you? It’s obvious what has happened here; the Red Man has the Book of the Past.”

Monkey looked at the rest of the group. He could tell by their blank expressions that none of them had any idea what he was talking about.

“Let me explain,” he began, “there are two ancient books; the Book of the Past and the Book of the Future. Individually, they each have great power but when joined together they contain infinite potential for both good or evil. The Book of the Past has the ability to change any point in history.

By simply scribing in the book, closing it and reopening it, the holder of the book can change any single point in history at any one time. For example, if I had written in the book that John Lennon hadn’t been in The Beatles but that

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Britney Spears had instead, once I had closed and reopened the book, hey presto!”

“Yes, hey presto and then no-one would ever have remembered them!” giggled Anna. Monkey shot her a look of derision and continued.

“Similarly, the Book of the Future can alter a single point in the future. However, if both books are combined, their power becomes unlimited.

History and the future can be erased at once. If the Red Man were to obtain both books he could wipe out all that is, was or ever will be, good. He will defeat every one of us in one simple sentence!”

Zoltan looked horrified. “Do you think he has both books?”

“I doubt it,” smiled Monkey, uneasily, “we wouldn’t be here now if he had. My guess is that he has the Book of the Past and that he has used it to bring Dahut back.”

"Couldn't the Red Man just write that we never existed? Surely that would achieve his objective and get us out of the way?" mused Zoltan, being unusually intelligent.

Monkey looked at him, almost in admiration for being unusually intelligent. "You are being unusually intelligent," he replied, "however, he cannot write us out of history because that would cause some kind of temporal paradox or some other fancy scientific words. Basically because we already exist here in the future. We would be here between the time of him writing and closing the book, even for a split second, so he could never write us out of history. That is why he needs both 106

books, to close the loophole and ensure we never existed, nor could we ever exist in the future."

“I don’t get it,” mused Anna, “why would she help me to save you? Why did she just not leave you guys to die? It’s like they need you to be alive.”

Monkey sighed. “I have been wondering that myself, Anna. I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

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Six “You are not supposed to be able to find me,” said Cressida, “I’m not at home anymore.”

Hypnos smiled. “I know, sweet one. But it does not matter where you are in the real world. When you are in a dream, you are in my world, and that will never change.”

He stepped forward a little, but his smile wavered slightly as Cressida took a tentative step backwards. “Monkey says you are bad. He told me that you are dangerous and that I shouldn’t trust you.”

“Yes, I thought he might try and cast doubts in your mind like this,” soothed Hypnos, “that is the kind of evil being he is. I really need to come into the real world and save you all from his evil ways.”

Cressida frowned, the creases in her forehead belying her tender age. “I want to believe you,”

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she said at length, “but I am confused at who to trust. I’ve known Monkey for a very long time.”

“People are not always who they seem to be. Very often, a person you may have known for many years could be hiding a sinister secret, something you might never suspect them of. To make matters worse, they fuzz your head up with doubts about new people. It’s almost as if they don't want to share you."

Cressida giggled nervously. “Like who? I would think I know everyone in Towndale very well.

Daddy makes it a point to make sure he knows everything about everyone. Not only that, he talks about them all at the breakfast table so I know everything about everyone too.”

“Yes,” Hypnos sighed, “I heard about the webcam network he had set up to keep an eye on everyone. Is it true that three electricity substations burnt out that night?”

Cressida nodded slowly.

“I bet Monkey was furious?”

“Oh yes, he was very shouty that day. He kept saying that daddy was trying to take over the world again.”

“And was he?” asked Hypnos, sitting on the dusty red ground inside the doorframe.

Cressida shrugged. “I don’t think so. Daddy told me he was just being nosey, and that it had nothing to do with taking over the world. He said that just because he was cataloguing the strengths and weaknesses of the entire population, and that just because he had designed computer program that transmitted 109

mind-altering radio waves through the webcam network, Monkey was wrong to accuse him of such acts of megalomania.”

Hypnos raised his eyebrows, mildly impressed.

“You trust your daddy, don’t you?” he asked.

“Of course. What sort of silly question is that?”

“Well, I just wondered who you believed, your daddy, or Monkey?”

Cressida put her hands on her hips. “I believed daddy. Daddy would never lie to me, I am his Princess.”

Hypnos nodded. “I believe him too. I trust him. Far more than Monkey. But it proves my point, Monkey was deceiving you, and he has done so on so many occasions before. Now do you believe me?”

Cressida nodded slowly. “That’s right. It wasn’t long ago that he was accusing my dad of kidnapping Anna.”

“And at your party, when that puppet guy died, who was the only other one behind the puppet booth?”

She gasped and placed her hands over her mouth dramatically. “You mean... Monkey killed the puppet guy? But why?”

“Because he could. If Monkey doesn’t like someone, he will quite happily kill them. I’ve seen him do it many times before. Apparently, that’s why the Red Man is after him. Monkey is so evil that he has been sentenced to an eternity in Hades. The Red Man keeps trying to catch him but he always escapes. He is very clever, that Monkey.”

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Cressida was still not sure.

"And another thing; what is Monkey's name?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "His name is Monkey, of course."

Hypnos shook his head sadly. "His name is Seeno, dear one. He was one of the three wise monkeys. See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil.

That’s why his brothers are Hearno and Speakno.

But his surname is the important point here. His surname is Evil. Seeno Evil."

Cressida clasped her hands to her ears. Then to her mouth. Finally she covered her eyes.

“See no Evil, " smiled Hypnos. "I can stop him, Cressida. I am the only one who can. And all I need is for you to help me through to your world.

All you need to do is take my hand and pull me through."

Hesitantly, she reached out and took hold of his hand. Yet still she harboured doubts. What he had said made perfect sense but would she be betraying her family and friends? She pulled her hand back. Hypnos sensed the last of her unease.

"I’ll tell you what,” he smiled, “I will do you a deal.

How about I give you the power to pull me back into your dreams at any time? If you believe that I am doing anything wrong, anything other than bringing Monkey to justice, you can just call me back, and everything will be as it was. What do you say?”

She liked this idea. “How do I do that?”

Hypnos unhooked the horn-shaped object hanging from his waist. The wider end of the horn was plugged with a well-worn piece of cork, which 111

he removed carefully. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and poured into it what looked like smooth sand from the horn, before re-corking.

Cressida watched intently.

He wrapped the sand tightly in the handkerchief and passed it to her.

Puzzled, she put the package into her pyjama pocket, thanking him. “What is it for?” she asked.

“It is sleeping sand, the kind you find in your eyes when you wake in the morning. In the old days, I used to be known as the Sandman. I’d use this sand to help people fall asleep. So if you find that you feel afraid, or that you think I am wrong, just sprinkle a little of the sand over me, and I’ll fall asleep. And as you know, that will bring me back into the dream world.”

Cressida jumped up and down excitedly. “How can we stop Monkey, Mr. Hypnos?”

“Well, there is a way...” he pondered, “but you must keep it a secret. I can make Monkey fall asleep forever using my sleeping sand. A bit like Sleeping Beauty. But if Monkey knows I’m around, it will make it difficult. I don’t think he will let me sprinkle the sand on him if he knows I’m there.”

“How can you do that? You are in my dream!”

Hypnos laughed loudly, making Cressida jump.

“You can release me from the dream. Just like you released the flower I gave you. All you have to do is pull me through the doorway. That way, I can be on your side of reality.”

Cressida got to her feet and brushed grass from her dress. “I’m not sure, Mr. Hypnos. What

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happens if Monkey knows you are near? How will you get him to sleep then?”

“A good question,” he mused, “I guess I could just wait until he was asleep, then go into his dream and make sure he couldn’t wake up.

Unfortunately, the only way I could get back into the real world would be if he woke up, so I’ll have to stay in his dream forever. But at least I know that he will never be able to take over the world.”

Cressida looked down at the floor and began to sniffle. “Does that mean you would be dead? I don’t want you to die.”

“No, no! I would be as alive as I am now, happily living in peoples’ dreams. I’d be really happy because I would have saved the world, and it would all be with your help. We can do this, Cressida!”

She cheered up again and smiled. She walked toward the doorway and reached out her hand.

“Come on,” she said, “let’s hurry before I wake up!”

Hypnos got to his feet and took her hand. “Thank you Cressida, you have no idea how much this will help.” She pulled his arm as hard as she could and for the briefest of moments the field in which she stood glowed an angry red, flames bursting from the ground far into the distance. In the blink of an eye however, everything returned to its former glory and Cressida stood barefoot in the grass holding the hand of Hypnos.

“So this is what your side looks like,” he said, smiling, “it’s very nice.”

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“Have you seen the pink ponies with wings?” she asked, excitedly.

“I have. It was I who put them in your dreams. I knew you would like them. Now though, you must wake up. We need to talk in the real world. Can you wake up for me?”

Cressida nodded and watched as her field and rabbits and pink ponies began to fade around her and the unfamiliar sight of her bedroom in Amsterdam replaced it. **** She sat up in her bed and looked around the dimly lit room. The new moon barely cast any light at all but enough for Cressida to be able to see a man sitting in the chair at the opposite side of the room.

“Mr. Hypnos?” she whispered, “is that you?”

The shadowy figure got to his feet and walked over to her bed. “Yes Cressida, it is me. We did it!”

She clapped her hands excitedly. “Are you going to catch Monkey now?”

“You bet I am,” smiled Hypnos, “but I might need some help. I’ve been thinking, it might be good if Monkey fell asleep forever but there is still a chance he could wake up and be evil again. I wonder if we should kill him?”

“Ooh no, I couldn’t allow that,” said Cressida, “you are too nice to kill people.”

“That’s true,” he grinned, “but I know someone that could do it for us.”

Cressida frowned, “who is that?”

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“I have a brother, called Thanatos. He kills bad people. I’m sure he would be happy to do it for us.”

“Where is he?” she asked.

“He will come to you in your dreams, just like I did.

All you have to do is pull him through, just like you did with me. We’ll sort that evil Monkey out!”

“I’ll go to sleep right now and get him,” she said.

Hypnos smiled softly. “Yes, you do that.”

Cressida lay back down and closed her eyes. She felt comforted by the fact that they were finally going to be able to stop Monkey taking over the world.

Hypnos sat back in the chair. A quiet laugh betrayed him as he congratulated himself on a job well done.

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Seven Kieran smiled secretly to himself, as he flounced his way across the footpath that linked the Concertebow with the rear of the Reichsmuseum.

On either side, small groups of children abandoned their kick-abouts to stare, slack-jawed at the sight. True, Kieran and Bernard could rightly claim to have become a fairly regular sight in Amsterdam of a weekend, but rarely were they accompanied by dashing naval Commodore Gerdi van de Tuin and footballing legend Ruud van Nistelhoven. Raine really didn’t know where to put himself. All day various groups of onlookers had gathered together to gawp and wave at one or other of the distinguished group.

Bernard glanced moodily at his spouse’s selfsatisfied expression.

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“I should have known better than to have let you run amok in the flea-market this afternoon, Ki,” he muttered.

“Oooh, hark at Mr. Grumpy,” mocked Kieran, “I think this polyester frock-coat looks very sweet on me.”

“Quite,” sniffed Bernard, casting a conspiratorial look at Ruud, who immediately broke into a peal of laughter.

“Anyway, you can’t talk, Bernie dear,” drawled Kieran, “your purchase was far and away more bizarre than mine.”

“Bizarre, you say? How can half a kilo or oranges possibly be regarded as bizarre?”

“That wasn’t the bizarre part, as well you know, dear. Poor Raine was beside himself with embarrassment when you pounded on the palace door and handed them over as a little gift to Her Majesty, Queen Beatrix!”

Bernard smiled teasingly. “What’s wrong with that? You know she likes a nice juicy orange!”

“Yes, but you didn’t have to call her “Beatty” did you? I mean, with you and I about, Raine wasn’t even sure whether to bow or to curtsey!”

Gerdi and Ruud exchanged mirthful glances. Say what you liked about them, but even Amsterdam was a more colourful place when the van Bookshelfs were in town. Raine just trudged on, resigned to the embarrassment.

“Tell you what,” Bernard piped up, as they walked through the underpass beneath the Reichsmuseum, “why don’t you go to the Heineken Experience, Raine? It’s a tad touristy, 117

but you do get a free tipple of the stuff, I’m reliably informed.”

“I’m barely old enough,” said Raine truthfully, “besides, if mum and dad knew…” He had to bite his tongue so as not to slip up and tell Bernard about his drinking binges with the lads from karate. In fact, he decided not to tell a lot about his karate friends. In all honesty, his opinions of Bernard and Kieran had changed immensely over the past few days, something his karate friends would never understand.

“Precisely the reason why you should go,” Kieran chimed in, “you’re not with them now, and we’re not going to say anything. Plus of course, you won’t have your Auntie and Uncle tagging along with you in there…”

“I won’t?” asked Raine, visibly brightening.

“Of course not! Since when have you seen Bernie and I drinking anything as coarse as lager?”

“Ruud and I will come with you if you like, Raine,” added Gerdi, “I enjoy… ahem… ‘coarse’ and Ruud will come just for the sports presentation section, won’t you, Ruud?”

Ruud gave an enthusiastic nod.

“Well that’s settled then,” said Bernard magnanimously, “we’ll meet up at the entrance to the Vondelpark in a couple of hours. Then we all need to get back to Towndale for our date with destiny.”

After seeing them to the door of the brewery, Bernard and Kieran turned back towards the park.

“We’ve shared such happy memories in here,” simpered Kieran, winningly, “I do hope we’ll have 118

many more!” Bernard was about to agree when the distant sound of screaming made them both peer into the distance. In front of the main gates of the Vondelpark, three giant red man-eating sluglike creatures were gathered, picking off the poor unfortunates who were trying to escape from within. Each creature, standing around four feet high and six feet long, had four fearsome arms with razor-sharp claws on the end of long fingers.

Within their massive mouths, hundreds of needlelike teeth easily made light work of the flesh of the terrified people fleeing from the park grounds.

“What on Earth are those ugly things?,” whispered Bernard to his spouse, “do you think they’re part of the Red Man’s evil menagerie?”

“This is getting way too close to home,” said Kieran, trembling.

“At least Raine and the others are safe, for the present,” Bernard pondered, “we must destroy the evil creatures now, whilst we have the chance.”

“You think those things are really here for us, then?”

“Well, put it this way. Even if they are not here for us, can you stand idly by whilst innocent Amsterdammers are brutally murdered by these oversized ooze-bags? If your answer is as conclusive as mine would be to that question, you can bet your last Euro that the Red Man knows it too!”

“So, what’s your plan?” Kieran asked, enthusiastically.

Bernard thought for a moment, “It seems likely that there are more slugs in the park, driving 119

people out into the slimy grasp of the ones on the gate. So, we need to get the gate slugs to follow us in, and then lead all of them to one location in order to destroy them.”

“And how do you propose to do that?”

Bernard stared past his spouse at the figure of a distraught-looking man sporting a rash of designer stubble and an unspeakably loud lumberjack shirt who was pacing up and down on the opposite side of the road like an expectant father.

“Do you know him, love?”

“I’m not sure,” mused Bernard, “I can’t quite place the face. I think we met him at that arts function last month in the Reichsmuseum.”

The man noticed the couple and dashed across the road to meet them. “Ah, the van Bookshelfs,” he exclaimed desperately, as he rushed to meet them, “thank goodness you’ve arrived. You must help me rescue my log!”

“Beg pardon?” replied Kieran saucily, unable to resist.

“Now I remember!” Bernard smiled, “it’s Mark van Vastenhoven isn’t it?”

“Natural wood carvings,” recalled Kieran brightly, “we all shared a banana daiquiri whilst you discussed your latest project. What was it called again?”

“Sinaasappels are the only fruit,” announced Mark, proudly.

“Oh yes,” quavered Kieran nervously, “it’s rather erm… heterosexual, isn’t it?”

“Well, someone has to be,” admitted Mark sheepishly, with a shrug.

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“So, so true,” Bernard agreed magnanimously, “remember dearest Kieran, that if our plans for Ys had come to fruition, Meneer van Vastenhoven here and thousands like him would now be repopulating the earth into a new tolerant global community of all-Dutch speaking peoples for us!”

He concluded this rousing recollection with an appropriately megalomaniac cackle. Kieran shook his head slowly in long-suffering despair.

“Anyhow,” Mark said, in an attempt to bring the eccentric pair back to a semblance of reality, “my pride and joy is trapped in there, together with all my cutting tools, surrounded by those hideous man-eating slugs!”

Bernard snapped his fingers, “Of course!” he laughed, “I have the very idea!” **** “Co-ee! You looking for me?”

The slugs turned their stalk-like eyes incredulously towards a tall rangy man bounding around them, his floppy blond fringe and ridiculous pink frock-coat flapping like the swing doors of an abandoned saloon. Spying one of their prime targets, the three slugs surged forward in hot pursuit of their quarry at a frightening pace.

Kieran sprinted gamely towards a pedestrian bridge several hundred metres into the park, the slugs slowly gaining on him. However, just as he reached the bridge, the slugs noticed, to their astonishment, that Bernard was heading straight for them at top speed in his electric chariot. In his free hand, he clutched the pointy end of Mark van Vastenhoven’s latest artistic creation.

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“Yield, you dastardly insects!” Bernard challenged, as he pierced the lead slug’s breast with his makeshift lance, causing the creature to explode like a giant slug-shaped, slime-filled balloon. As the others advanced, Bernard made a screeching U-turn, speeding away, yet the two other slugs were gaining on him, flanking the wheelchair on each side. Bernard watched nervously as they matched him for pace, sliming alongside his wheelchair and watching him with their stalky eyes. Just as they closed in for the kill, however, Bernard pressed a button on his wheelchair console. Before they could take avoiding action, the slugs stared in horror as two chainsaws, normally employed in the innocent shaping of wood, emerged from the wheel-hubs and ripped the ill-fated creatures to shreds. It was like a scene from Ben Hur. But without the chariots. Or horses. And with slugs. In fact, it was probably nothing like a scene from Ben Hur, but if you would like to imagine it like that, feel free.

Kieran jumped for joy as he emerged from the safety of the bridge. Bernard withdrew the chainsaws and did an impressive handbrake turn, bringing his wheelchair to a stop in front of his spouse.

“The magic’s still there, isn’t it love?” he smiled, as Kieran clapped his hands excitedly and wrapped his arms about his neck.

“Oscar Wilde was quite wrong though,” Kieran laughed, “not all art is useless!”

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“We’re not done yet though,” said Bernard, warningly, “goodness knows how many more slugs are out there.”

Kieran nodded. “So, where to now, my knight in shining armour?”

Before he could answer, a shambling little man limped into view, wielding a wheelbarrow of manure. Upon seeing them, he dropped the manure, fell to one knee and tugged his forelock deferentially.

“Good day to ye, your evilness,” he drawled, in thick Cornish brogue.

“My word!” exclaimed Kieran, “it’s Fred Crispin, isn’t it?”

“That’d be right, so it would, your honour,” confirmed Fred.

Fred Crispin had been an acquaintance of the van Bookshelf's for many years, initially as a prisoner, chained in the bowels of the library in Towndale, punishment for defacing one of the library's countless books. He had also been an integral part of the saving of the world when Bernard had raised Ys from the bottom of the sea.

“Since when have you been working here?”

Kieran persisted.

“Ah, well… that be a long story, so it is. I be moving ‘ere after we was in that floaty city and I be growing these here rhododendrons, see? We got some of the best rhododendrons outside Towndale in the Vondelpark, thanks to me, and I aren’t going to let those overgrown garden pests ruin my lovely foliage!”

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Bernard smiled fondly. “You grew rhododendrons for me, Fred?”

“That I did, your evilness,” Fred answered with a blush, “I remembers how much ye likes them, see.”

“That is so kind of you, Fred. Do you still have your Belgian chocolate addiction?”

“Oh arr, that I do, your evilness. I be having them shipped special from that there Easer’s factory every week. Don’t be having nothing else to spend my wages on, see.”

“Well, when we get out of this, you’re going to have the biggest box of chocolates in the city with your name on it Fred, do you hear?”

Fred grinned lasciviously, his mind already wandering towards the confectionary counter, and the dictionary, so that he could look up the word 'lasciviously.' “What can I do for ye then, your evilness?”

“He’s not evil…” Kieran began, but decided to let it drop, bearing in mind the deference that Fred owed to Bernard might well have had something to do with him formerly being a fearful evil megalomaniac.

“Do you have any slug pellets, Fred?” asked Bernard.

“That I do, your evilness,” came the answer, “they’re always trying to get at my tulips, those little buggers, so they are.”

"The slug pellets?"

"No, them there sluggy things, Mr. Kieran."

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Kieran nodded, cursing himself for being uncharacteristically stupid. "What are you thinking of Bernie?”

Bernard rubbed the bridge of his nose. “If memory serves,” he pondered philosophically, “most of those gardening programs on television claim that slug pellets are the most effective, yet least humane method of ridding your garden of slugs.

Perhaps if we can make a strategic stand armed with the pellets, we can hold them off until reinforcements come and rescue us!”

“Reinforcements your evilness? Did ye bring yer army with ye today too?”

“No no, the police are on their way. I called them a few moments ago. The slugs won’t stand a chance once they arrive. Dutch police do carry firearms, remember?”

Fred nodded, slightly confused. He didn’t ever recall seeing any Dutch police carrying an arm, especially not ones that were on fire.

“So, where do we make our stand, Bernie?”

“The rose garden I think. You remember the rose garden, Ki?” Kieran sighed, doe-eyed. “Oh how could I forget?

We’ve had many a romantic interlude there, haven’t we?”

“Not now, dear,” winked Bernard teasingly, “the important thing about the rose garden is the hexagonal flower beds. We should be able to place ourselves at strategic points and catch the dastardly insects in the cross-fire.”

“That’s why I’m just Fred Crispin and you’re the evil Baron, your evilness,” bowed Fred, smiling.

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**** “Hmmm… what a delightfully appointed little potting shed this is!” simpered Kieran, as they searched the shelves for weaponry. Bernard, unable to fit his chair through the door, sat guard outside.

Fred handed Kieran an economy-sized box of slug pellets and a selection of garden forks and spades, then proceeded to reach for an armful of rubber hoses.

“What are they for, Fred?”

“Ah, well they be for the water spigot, your honour. That there spigot be in the centre of the rose garden and the best place for us to be to fight those big slimy rhododendron-eaters.”

“Come on you two!” warned Bernard, “we’re starting to draw attention to ourselves!” Indeed, several slugs were beginning to close ominously on their position.

As Kieran gathered the hoses up from him, Fred sneaked something into his gardener’s smock and ushered him out.

“So, we have the pellets and the hoses,” panted Kieran breathlessly, as they reached the centre of the rose garden, “what next?”

“Ah well, we be tipping the pellets into the water supply, you see… then the water will melt those slugs, your honour,” Fred answered.

“You’re a godsend, Fred,” smiled Bernard, “consider that box of chocolates well and truly yours!”

Kieran took a moment to gaze around him at the beautiful floral designs that Fred had nurtured. He 126

spied a particularly striking yellow rose and was about to take a closer look when he spotted an army of giant red slugs slithering towards them at a terrifying pace. “Look out!” he squealed, “here they come!” He whirled around and saw a couple of dozen or so mean, angry red giant slugs oozing towards the three men closing in on them from every corner of the rose garden. Fred and Bernard connected the hoses, having first emptied all the slug pellets into the water system.

“Take that, you dastardly insects!” yelled Bernard as he hosed his first slug, watching as the slimy creature exploded into oblivion.

“Eat my rhododendrons will ye?” shouted Fred as he scratched slug number two.

“Gosh, this looks fun… may I have a go?” ventured Kieran as he claimed the third insect victim.

The slugs however, were not going to be dismissed so easily. They gathered just outside the range of the water jets.

“Don’t fire!” Bernard commanded, “they want us to waste our water so they can rush us!”

“I’ll root ‘em out, so I will!” grumbled Fred as he brought the hidden object out of his pocket.

“My word, what is that?” asked Kieran.

“Ah, that be one of them there Second World War hand grenades,” came the wily reply, “I found it in my potting shed when I first started work here with an old note saying not to use it except in dire emergencies.”

“An eminently sensible idea,” said Bernard, warmly, “someone obviously had their heads 127

screwed on the right way back then. So, your plan would be to stir these slugs up a little with this grenade, eh Fred? Give it a good throw and you might take out a dozen at once.”

“Already have,” smiled Fred, “take that you slugs!” he cried.

The three men watched and waited. And waited.

And waited some more. No explosion tore apart the sludgy assailants. Bernard raised an eyebrow.

"I guess it was a dud," he sighed, "ah well..." He stared at Fred and looked in horror at the man’s hand. “Um, Fred? You still have the grenade in your hand!”

“Arr, that be correct.”

“Are you not supposed to throw the grenade at this point?”

“No no, your evilness. I read the instructions first so I did. First you pull the pin, and then you throw it at them. That’s what the note be saying.”

“You threw the pin?” quavered Kieran, wincing.

“RUN!!” screamed Bernard.

But it was too late. The explosion blew Bernard from his chair. Kieran was blasted in the opposite direction. Of Fred there was no sign, apart from a pitiful pair of smoking boots where he had been standing. The torrent of water from the smashed spigot reduced to a pathetic dribble as Bernard and Kieran looked at each other from opposite sides of the crater.

“Poor Fred,” wailed Kieran, “what a horrible ending!”

“Not half as horrible as the one we’re about to endure,” said Bernard. The slugs were even now 128

advancing upon the crater. The two men stared at each other and took a deep breath. This was going to hurt. **** “This is wrong, Ki,” shouted Bernard, as he crawled back into his chair, “I never foresaw death by slug for either of us!”

Kieran was paying little attention. “Poo!” he exclaimed, “What’s that horrible smell?”

“Well I had assumed it was Fred’s empty shoes but now you come to mention it… it smells like gas. There’s probably a gas main under the water pipe that was fractured by the exp… I say!”

Bernard broke off to watch Kieran start to jog on the spot and touch his toes, “Ki, dearest, much as I applaud your fitness regime, I don’t really think this the time or the place. I mean, you always look so much better in a singlet dear,” he concluded with a wink.

“What I’m wearing is far more appropriate in this instance,” Kieran panted.

Bernard looked around him. The slugs were rapidly closing in. “I think this may be a good idea to retreat,” he said, hauling himself back into his wheelchair.

“On my signal, get out of here at top speed!” called Kieran, “trust me!”

Bernard watched slack-jawed as Kieran hopped about like a dervish.

“NOW!” he screamed. Bernard put his chair into full power reverse whilst Kieran tossed his polyester frock-coat into the crater, sprinting away

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from the slugs in the opposite direction to their place of convergence.

The first slugs twisted their eye-stalks round to see their targets running away, and then back to Kieran’s jacket which was sparking wildly with static electricity. A few moments later the gas was ignited and the entire rose garden became a sea of flame. The explosion instantly powdered the rose petals, but cooked the slugs at a more leisurely pace.

Kieran and Bernard watched, together with crowds of ecstatically grateful Amsterdammers, applauding as the last of the dreaded slugs writhed their death throes in fiery agony.

“Congratulations!” shouted Gerdi, as she and Ruud gathered round to hug them. Raine smiled but remained safely at arm’s length.

“You’ve saved the city,” cried Ruud.

“You’ve saved my log,” cried Mark, “oh, but what’s the horrible slimy stuff on the end?”

Kieran beamed but Bernard’s smile was more rueful.

“Perhaps we have saved the city,” he murmured, “but we have lost my trusty servant Fred in the process… and the world is still very much under threat. We must leave for Towndale immediately my friends!”

“Surely there’s time for a spot of shopping before we go?” purred Kieran, winningly.

“Yes of course, there is always time for a spot of shopping,” soothed Bernard, “besides, I’ve a very large box of chocolates to buy, and to bury in the rose garden,” he said to himself, grimly.

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**** Kieran forced a smile as he poured five glasses of his house brand tipple ‘Dutch Megalomaniac’ Advocaat and proceeded to serve them out to their houseguests. Gerdi van de Tuin was looking positively radiant. Being a Commodore of the Royal Dutch Navy seemed to suit her, and certainly the uniform was most impressive. Little wonder then that she had managed to find herself a spouse of her own. Ans had readily volunteered to look after Cressida over the past weeks and much preferred tutoring Cressida with her horse riding than joining Gerdi in England. Not only did Cressida make a refreshing change from Gerdi’s martial demands, but she also got the feeling that the visit wasn’t just a social call. Gerdi, on the other hand, was definitely in her element in Towndale, and had insisted on a tour of the library and its recent alterations from Bernard himself that afternoon.

“I love what you’ve done to the place,” she said, looking up at the wooden beams, shaded delicately by the flicker of the log fire, “it’s so… so English.”

“I’m not sure how to take that,” joked Kieran, handing her the advocaat.

Their second guest was more taciturn. Ruud van Nistelhoven smiled warmly, but his sharp mind was filled with concern over the pitfalls in Bernard and Kieran’s plans. He knew the penalty for inaction was far greater, but he had an affection for the van Bookshelf family and worried

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dreadfully about Cressida, even given the contingency plans they had outlined previously.

“Do you both have to do this alone?” he asked, tentatively, “might I suggest that you enlist Monkey in this quest?”

“The less people involved, the lower the risk, Ruud,” Kieran replied, “and Monkey would doubtless feel the need to muscle in and take over. We can’t allow his interference.”

“Besides,” added Bernard lightly, “we’re not truly alone, with you and Raine here to provide a bit of prayer and moral guidance.”

As if on cue, Raine, wearing a casual shirt which contained no images of human or indeed animal body parts, much to Bernard and Kieran’s relief, appeared, claimed his glass, took a sniff and then handed it back with a look of disgust on his face.

“At least the dinner smells good,” he said.

“Yes, it must be ready,” said Kieran, heading into the kitchen.

“Come,” smiled Bernard, “we shall retire to the dining room where I have prepared some whole herrings for us to swallow in the traditional Dutch way.”

Raine pulled another face.

“It’s okay Raine, sweetie, you’re exempted from that course. Gerdi and Ruud are natives and used to this delightful custom, and as for Kieran and I… well, let’s just say that we lost our gag reflexes long ago.”

Ruud grinned at his host whilst Raine shook his head. ‘At least they could never be accused of being closet cases,’ he thought.

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Down in the library basement, they could all hear the distant clang of metal striking metal and the crackle of the arc-welders. Bernard had done his duty and no one in the dinner party wanted to allude further to it. Strangely enough for a van Bookshelf plan, everything was going smoothly and ahead of schedule, although a heavy feeling of dread clouded the wine that night.

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Eight Monkey sat with his head in his paws. It had been several hours since they had escaped from the evil confectioner and he had sat awake all night trying to establish why the Red Man would have felt the need to bring Dahut back. More importantly, he tried desperately to remember where he had left the Book of the Past and the Book of the Future. There had been things Monkey had neglected to tell the group for their own good. If Zoltan and Anna knew that the books would be drawn together by their supernatural magnetism it would only panic the poor, deluded souls. Now that the Book of the Past had been used, it was only a matter of time before the Book

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of the Future found it and, in the wrong hands could be disastrous.

“You look troubled, dear brother,” smiled Hearno, “what is the matter?”

“It’s the stupid books,” sighed Monkey, “if the Red Man has hold of them both, it’s the end for us all.”

Hearno sat beside him. “As you said before, he can’t have them both, because we are all still here. That, at least, is some good news. All we need to do is get to the Book of the Future before he does.”

Monkey shrugged his shoulders and stood up. He walked around the kitchen, sighing as he went.

Something was not right. The Red Man was supposed to be dead, he had been swallowed by Leviathan, a giant fish, several years ago. The only other person who could access the knowledge of the whereabouts of the books was the librarian, Bernard van Bookshelf.

“So where did you put them?”

“I only wish I had a pound for every time I have asked myself that question. I’d have at least six pounds by now. Think how many sausages that would pay for!”

Hearno nodded in agreement. “That would feed both of us for about a week, I reckon.”

The two sock puppets smiled wistfully at the thought of sausages.

“Where might you have put the books if you were to hide them these days?”

Monkey sat in deep thought. “I would put them as far apart from each other as possible. It would have to be somewhere that they might never be 135

discovered. Somewhere nobody would dare to go.”

“Like Liverpool?”

“Good heavens, Hearno, not as bad as that… but somewhere scary…”

“Australia?”

“Don’t be stupid! I’d have to dig for thousands of miles to get… there…”

Monkey had a revelation.

“Hearno, you are a genius!”

“I am?”

“Yes! I remember now, I buried one of the books… the Book of the Past.”

Hearno hopped around excitedly. “Let’s go and get it! Is it far away?”

Monkey sat in stony silence.

“Monkey? Is it far? Where is it? Tell me, tell me!”

“It is rather difficult to get to, if that’s what you mean. It is going to take some serious planning.

The Book of the Past is buried where the River Acheron meets the River Styx, beneath the old Tree of Sorrow. Why didn’t I remember this sooner?”

Monkey looked around to discover that Hearno had vanished. The little sock puppet had dashed to his room and was currently packing a tiny suitcase in preparation for his trip. He didn’t get out much.

The next morning, Monkey called everyone to the breakfast table and explained where he now remembered the Book of the Past could be found.

Anna frowned. “I’ve never heard of the River 136

Acheron, or the River Styx. Are they in Yorkshire?”

Monkey shook his head. “Yes and no. If only it were as easy as that. The Styx is the river that separates Earth from the Underworld. This also explains who is behind all of this. It could only be the Red Man.” Zoltan put his head in his hands and groaned. “So you’re saying that this book is buried next to a mythical river in a place that no one believes in any more, and even if it did exist would be the most terrible place anyone could ever face, and if they did end up there would generally be dead anyway and their souls would end up in eternal torture and would never be able to return?”

“That’s about it, yes,” replied Monkey, matter-offactly, “although I have been there and made it back out alive, so it’s not quite as doom-laden as your prophecy. Also, it is surprisingly easy to get there. Since the Red Man was summoned by Dahut all those years ago, a portal to the underworld has been left open, just beneath Towndale library.”

“That’s rather convenient,” said Anna, “and to be honest, not exactly unexpected. Why is it that the forces of evil keep choosing Towndale to launch their plans to take over the world?”

“I don’t know for certain,” sighed Monkey, “I have a theory though that the library wasn’t built in that location purely by coincidence. Hearno and I have been doing some research and found something rather interesting.” He jumped down from the table and picked up a large, rolled up piece of paper.

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He handed it to Zoltan, who unfurled to roll to see a map of Europe. He looked at Monkey and frowned.

Hearno jumped onto the table and walked over to Holland. “See here?” he said, pointing to the small fishing village of Tzummarum where they had stayed during their time searching for the city of Ys. “Nice place, that was,” said Anna, “what of it?”

“Watch carefully,” smiled Hearno, walking to a point on the map in the ocean, “this is where Ys stood.” He stepped over to the map of England.

“This is Scarborough, where we met those druid people when we learned about Ys.” He took another step and touched on the area of the map that showed Towndale. “This is us.”

“Very nice geography lesson Hearno, thank you for that,” smiled Zoltan sarcastically, “how does any of this help?”

Hearno picked a box of cereal from the cupboard and used it as a straight edge. He drew a line from Towndale to Tzummarum. It passed directly through Ys and Scarborough.

“As you can see,” smiled Monkey smugly, “everything evil that we have encountered has happened along this line. I want you now to imagine this map in three dimensions. Consider, if you will, a line passing through the Earth, crossing our line of evil at the exact point where the library stands. If you were to draw this line, it would pass directly through Hades, right where the Red Man’s fortress stands. Towndale library is, quite literally,

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at the centre of all evil. It’s hardly surprising that some of that evil should rub off on Bernard.” **** Monkey gathered everyone together and led them to the rear of Towndale library. They wandered through the well-kept gardens, Monkey scratching his head as he searched the rhododendron bushes until he found the object he had been searching for; a small rusted handle protruding from beneath the soil and bark chippings.

“Zoltan, could you give me a hand here?” he called as he tugged at the handle. Zoltan wandered over and lifted the entire trapdoor with surprising ease. Beneath the door, a rusty ladder descended into the absolute blackness below.

“Ok, folks, this is it,” said Monkey, “down there is the Underworld. It’s not the nicest place to visit.

We need to get in and out as quickly as possible.

As soon as you arrive there, you will start to feel negative thoughts and they will get stronger and stronger until you give up all hope of ever leaving.

Also, there is a nasty character who must be avoided. He is the guy that ferries souls from Earth into Hades, which is just over the other side of the Styx. If you get into his boat and reach the other side, there is no coming back. Any questions?”

“Just one,” said Zoltan, “what does the Book of the Past look like?”

“Well, it’s made of paper, its book-like, has the words ‘Book of the Past’ written on it. Good God, Zoltan, how stupid are you?”

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Zoltan did indeed feel stupid. He felt stupid enough to have joined Monkey on his latest crazy expedition.

Stupid enough to be dressed in his lycra costume again. And stupid enough to have forgotten to go for a wee before they set off.

“Right then,” said Monkey, let us venture into the darkness to find this book! Anna and Hearno, when we get close, you must wait a safe distance away from Zoltan and I so that you can resist the power of Hades and help us back if the need arises. One final thing, Zoltan, and it’s very important. You must empty your pockets and leave any possessions behind. You cannot have any currency with you. The ferryman of Hades can only take you across the river if you pay him a fare.”

They had come well prepared. They each had a pit helmet and backup torch, although the two sock puppets’ helmets barely produced enough light to stir the loins of even the smallest firefly.

Zoltan had brought some strong rope and Anna had brought some sandwiches and a picnic rug, in case they got hungry.

Monkey hopped onto Zoltan’s shoulders as he began descending the ladder into the blackness.

Hearno followed his brother’s lead and jumped onto Anna’s shoulder. As they were enveloped by the blackness, Hearno shuddered.

“It’s so dark down here,” he whispered, “and such a long way down. How much further do you think it is?”

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“I don’t know,” Anna whispered, “but we’ve only gone down a dozen or so steps so far.”

“I do hope it’s not too much further. I suffer from terrible flatulence when I’m in enclosed spaces.”

“I can vouch for that,” said Zoltan, “I remember the phone box in Paris when we were on our way to Ys.” “Eh?” “I said I remembered the phone box.”

“Eh?” “I SAID… oh, never mind!”

After descending several hundred feet, all were relieved to find their feet on the ground at last.

Zoltan looked around the dark cavern they were now standing in and winced at the pungent smell, metallic and damp. The roof was just high enough for Zoltan to be able to stand upright without fear of hitting his head. Directly across from where he stood, a tunnel disappeared into the distance. The walls themselves appeared to be covered in oozing slime and the sound of dripping water surrounded them.

“Oh great,” Monkey moaned, “looks like there is a distinct possibility that you might get slimy, Zoltan.

And I have to ride on your shoulders! You had better redouble your efforts in staying clean so as not to contaminate me.”

“You could try walking?” Zoltan rather foolishly suggested.

“WHAT? And get my fur all slimy? Don’t be ridiculous!”

Zoltan shrugged his shoulders, causing Monkey to lose his balance and sending his little woolly arms 141

flailing. The tiny sock puppet managed to grab hold of the knot in Zoltan’s cape and clung on as if his life depended on it.

“I guess it’s down there?” said Anna, pointing to the tunnel.

Monkey nodded. “I doubt we will be bringing the kids here on holiday next year,” he joked as he reclaimed his position on Zoltan’s shoulder.

Zoltan led the way along the corridor and cringed as huge drops of water seeped from the roof and landed on his head. He was more concerned about his passenger than anything else; Monkey would soon begin his incessant moaning and was next to Zoltan’s ear. Not a good idea to upset the simian superhero, he thought. Best not to mention the water to him.

Monkey, however, seemed to have other things on his mind. He sat with his head cocked to one side and frowned.

“What is it, Monkey?” asked Zoltan.

“Shh! Do you hear that?”

Zoltan listened, “I can hear some clicking, but that’s about it?” he said at last.

“Yes, that’s just it!” said Monkey, a little agitated, “what is it? I can’t quite make the sound out clearly enough.”

“I’m not sure,” whispered Zoltan, “perhaps it’s water dripping or something?”

Monkey shook his head. “It’s moving. Can you hear it? There sounds like there’s more than one.

A kind of clicking and scraping noise. I don’t like it, Zoltan.”

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Zoltan turned to his little woolly friend. “What’s up, Monkey? Don’t tell me you’re scared! It’s just some dripping water, you don’t need to worry!”

Monkey was about to comment when something moved ahead of them. It was difficult to tell in the dim illumination but at first glance it appeared to be the size of a dog. It moved quickly from one side of the corridor to the other and seemed to disappear into the wall.

“This tunnel must run into another,” whispered Monkey.

“What was that thing?” Zoltan asked nervously.

“I’m… not sure,” stammered Monkey, “perhaps a stray dog?”

“Don’t be silly, Monkey! We’re several hundred feet below ground! It’s not possible for a dog to be down here!”

“Why not?” challenged Monkey, “have you never heard of the hounds of Hell?”

“Because it wouldn’t be able to open the trapdoor at the top of the ladder!”

“Of course, how stupid of me!”

They reached the end of the corridor and found themselves at a junction. To the left, a tunnel ran far into the darkness and another to the right.

“Which way?” asked Anna.

“I don’t know,” said Hearno, “I’ll go investigate.

You guys stay here.”

Hearno jumped down and scuttled along the corridor to the left. Zoltan, Anna and Monkey sat down on the picnic rug. "Cheese sandwich?"

Several moments passed. Then several more.

And when it seemed as though there could not be 143

any more moments that could possibly pass, they heard shouting coming from the corridor and could make out the tiny light on Hearno’s pit helmet as he ran towards them.

“Run!” he cried, “get up and run!”

Confused, they got to their feet quickly and ran alongside the tiny puppet.

“What’s the matter?” asked Anna.

“Slugs. Giant slugs!” panted Hearno.

“Which way?” asked Zoltan.

“You don’t… think… I’m chasing… the flippin’ things… do you?”

Zoltan looked over his shoulder and was horrified to see several giant slugs chasing them.

In a moment of pure inspiration, Anna opened her backpack and threw several sandwiches at the giant slimy ooze bags. Immediately, the beasts skidded to a stop as they quickly devoured the food, reminding Anna of a program she had seen on telly about a pack of wolves. Or something.

Whatever it was that it reminded her of, it allowed the four heroes to gain more ground.

It seemed as though they had put enough space between the sluggy things and themselves, However, as they ran, the ground beneath their feet suddenly gave way, creating a large hole and causing the four heroes to fall several feet into a chasm, landing in an untidy heap on top of Monkey.

Winded and bruised, and in the case of the monkeys, pilling and frayed, they got to their feet and looked around. They had fallen into a large cave which had obviously been visited by 144

someone recently, as it was lit by a series of burning torches. In the distance stood a large marble altar table, surrounded by ornate carvings of goat and sheep heads. Strewn untidily over the table was a large red cloak and behind the table a large vault stood open. Between the heroes and the table flowed the River Styx, the waters whipped into a frenzy by the strong wind that was blowing throughout the cave.

“Where do you think we are, Monkey?” asked Zoltan, “are we on the right side of the river?”

Monkey looked around. “I think so. This isn't Hades, but I would say this looked like the Red Man’s lair. That cloak looks very familiar. We are a little further upstream than we need to be but we are at least in the right area.”

Anna was about to ask how they could get out when the sound of approaching footsteps caused her to fall silent. Monkey gestured to the others to hide and silently they found a dark corner in which to hide. Moments later two figures entered the cave and everyone instantly recognised them as the unmistakable figures of Dahut and the Red Man. “So, what’s the arrangement?”

The Red Man stared incredulously at his reincarnated underling. “Arrangement? My dear Dahut, what on earth do you take me for? Some sort of common blackmailer?”

She gave a stiff, formal bow. “I do realise that, by virtue of recreating me, you effectively own me,” she admitted, candidly.

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The Red man gave a gruff laugh. “Ha! I knew there was some reason why I brought you back instead of one of those limp creatures I’ve had to make do with in the past,” he conceded, without even the faintest whiff of praise. “Still, I find a little amusement palatable on the odd occasion. So, tell me, Dahut, what kind of arrangement did you have in mind?”

She gave a shy smile, her eyes downcast winningly.

“Oh, please. Spare me the feminine histrionics, it simply doesn’t suit you.”

“Well,” began Dahut, slightly nervously, “when the battle is won, I wondered if I may become joint ruler of the world, serving beside you as your bride. Or at least have a small continent to rule over.”

The Red Man looked down at his creation, who had assumed a satisfyingly humble kneeling position before him, a position which, knowing Dahut’s vicious, unforgiving nature, must have been causing her considerable discomfort.

“Very well, Ms. Gradlon. If the battle is won, the world shall be your reward, to do with as you will” Dahut rubbed her hands together avariciously, “You wish to reward me with the entire world? But what of your reward?”

“I will take pleasure in destroying all that is good, Ms. Gradlon, I have no use for a world. I will leave that in your capable hands. But take care,” he boomed, warningly, “there is much to do, and you must play your part in full to earn your place as ruler of Earth.”

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She bowed her head. “So, what is my next task, Sire?”

“Your task will be to alternately help or hinder the misguided plans of our favorite bumbling homosexuals, Bernard and Kieran van Bookshelf.

This at least should be a simple enough task for you to perform.”

“I do not underestimate them,” said Dahut.

“Then you are a fool,” came the amused response, “do you recall the famous boast of the Baron to take over the world?”

Dahut nodded.

“He started his great megalomaniac quest with a library and a boy. Now, after more than a decade’s concerted evil scheming he has a library, a boy, a girl, a second hand boat and a modestly successful advocaat factory in Sandpoort Noord. At this rate, he won’t have taken over the world this side of eternity!”

Dahut nodded obediently as her master laughed at her. Deep down though, she felt that her instincts were correct.

“Our plan is almost complete,” continued the Red Man, “it would seem that Monkey and his friends are not aware of our existence and we shall be unopposed this time until it is far too late for them to change anything.”

Dahut smiled. “I only hope I can find the need to kill some more people using suitably gory methods. That old puppeteer was far too easy and my hunger is far greater than that.”

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Zoltan bit his lip so as not to say anything. Mr. Intrepid had been a good friend and now the mystery behind his death was clear.

“You will get your reward, Dahut,” boomed the Red Man, as he picked up his cloak and fastened it around his shoulders. He and Dahut turned to leave but the Red Man suddenly stopped in his tracks. He held up his hand and Dahut stopped beside him.

“He is here,” he growled.

“Who?” asked Dahut, a little concerned.

“Monkey. He is here. It seems that he is aware of our return after all.”

Dahut scanned the room, trying to look deep into the shadows, listening for any sound of movement. The four heroes held their breath so as not to give themselves away. After what seemed like hours, Dahut turned back to the Red Man. “If they are here, I cannot see them,” she said.

“You don’t have to see something to know it is there,” said the Red Man. Dahut nodded, chastened.

“MONKEY!” roared the Red Man, “I know you are here! Show yourself!”

Monkey stayed silent, aware that if he were to give away his position the Red Man would surely destroy him and his friends.

“Don’t make me do this the hard way, Monkey!” the Red Man called, “you know that I have the book and you know that even now my full powers are being restored. I shall crush you, Monkey. I shall destroy everything that you are fighting for, 148

you and your friends. Why prolong the agony?

Show your face now and I may even kill you humanely!”

Dahut frowned. Was the Red Man going mad?

Monkey wasn’t there, she felt sure of it.

“Use the light, Dahut,” said the Red Man, “use the gift I gave you all those years ago.”

“But Master…” she began.

“Do it now, Dahut!” the Red Man growled.

Dahut reluctantly held her hand out, palm forward.

"I thought we didn't want Monkey dead," she muttered. Tiny specks of light crackled from her fingers and danced around her hand. **** “Turn around!” urged Monkey, “don’t look at the light!”

Whilst it meant turning their backs on the Red Man, Zoltan, Anna and Hearno sensed that it was the right thing to do. The light from Dahut’s hand grew brighter as more and more sparks jumped around, joining together to form a single, brilliant white light. The light began to take a solid form, that of a Gryphon, large and fierce, its red eyes burning like hot coals.

“It can’t hurt us if we don’t look at it!” urged Monkey, “cover your eyes!” The others quickly copied Monkey's lead, resisting the urge to peep through their fingers.

The mighty Gryphon walked slowly around the cavern, illuminating the shadows and revealing long hidden corners. It walked past the dark corner that hid the four friends and in that instant, their secret was gone.

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“Cease!” called the Red Man and the Gryphon instantly vanished. “Now, Monkey, show yourself!”

Gingerly, the four heroes got to their feet and turned to face the Red Man. Anna noticed that she had a little stray rock dust on her jeans and began frantically trying to brush it off. It would never do, facing the ultimate evil while looking scruffy.

“Time after time I have witnessed you destroy my plans, Monkey. This will be the end of our feud, the final battle. Although now is not the time, Monkey. When the time is right, I will destroy you and your entire gang. It will be my finest hour!”

Anna stepped forward. “If you don't mind me asking, how did you escape from Leviathan?”

The Red Man roared with laughter. “So polite, although you doubted my ability? Have we not crossed paths enough times for you to realise that I am all-powerful? I controlled the fish and was released moments after I was swallowed. Your friend Speakno paid dearly for his audacity and remains there to this day, unraveled and destroyed. A mere hairball in the belly of the fish.”

“How dare you refer to my brother as a hairball!” yelled Hearno, launching himself at the Red Man. “Oh, please!” laughed the Red Man, throwing a wave of energy at the tiny Monkey and sending him crashing to the ground, writhing in agony.

“Have you learned nothing over the years?” yawned the Red Man, “you cannot defeat me. I am far too powerful for you all now!”

“I should have defeated you a hundred times before,” growled Monkey.

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“Yes, Monkey. You should have,” the Red Man mocked, “but now you cannot. My power grows stronger with each passing day. The time will come for you to feel my wrath as I destroy you!

But, seeing as you were good enough to pay me visit, albeit unannounced, perhaps I can give you an indication of how devastating my powers are becoming, as I continue to be restored to my full strength?"”

“Wait!” said Zoltan, “your flies are undone! Show a little decency, at least!”

“Thank you,” said the Red Man, a little embarrassed. He looked down, realised that he didn’t actually have any flies to fasten and looked back up to see Zoltan, Anna and Monkey running quickly along the narrow corridor.

“You will not make a fool of me!” roared the Red Man, sending wave after wave of energy along the corridor. Countless bolts of bright light smashed into the walls and causing huge pieces of rock to fill the cavern. The whole corridor shook violently, knocking the heroes over and causing the entire structure to begin collapsing around them.

“Look out!” yelled Monkey, dodging falling rocks as best he could. The others tried their best to avoid the falling rocks too but a huge part of the ceiling came down on top of them. For several minutes, tons of rock and dust continued to cascade down until, finally, silence fell in the cavern.

The shaking stopped and the Red Man and Dahut walked slowly along the corridor to survey the 151

destruction. The entire corridor was blocked with rubble and both Dahut and the Red Man managed a smile as they noticed Monkey’s little woolly paw and a spray-painted red Wellington boot protruding from beneath the rock slide. They even broke into laughter as they watched the Wellington boot twitch for a moment or two before finally laying still altogether.

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Nine Raine strained to knead the deposits out of his bleary eyes. “The third sleepless night in a row” he grumbled to himself, bitterly. It was not a fear of who or indeed what might slip into his bedroom in the dead of night that was keeping him awake any more, that unfounded fear had long since passed, rather it was the unrelenting din from Bernard’s workers as they toiled on the van Bookshelfs’ secret megalomaniac plan. Of course it wasn’t a secret to him, nor indeed was it a great surprise when he strode unkempt into the main room that morning to find it arrayed with banks of computer monitors. He recognised a number of the young men that were merrily tuning up their equipment as the latest intake of students at Towndale Community College, particularly those

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that had attended Bernards "motivational speech," yet none of them even registered his presence, mesmerized, as they were by Bernard’s nefarious powers of mind control. A generation ago, the evil Baron had scattered these powers with gay abandon upon the parents of these young men, but today the situation was considerably more equitable, thanks to Kieran’s stern insistence that each “volunteer” be required to wear a distinctly unflattering grey boiler suit, as opposed to the fabulous sequined ball-gowns employed to humiliate his victims in the bad old days. Kieran’s jealous streak would certainly save Raine a whole barrel-load of blushes that day.

As if on cue, Kieran appeared from behind one of the control panels, wearing a white lab coat and cradling a clipboard. He waved camply over to Raine and resumed his flamboyant checklist ticking. Bernard was supervising the final fixing of a superbly megalomaniac-like screen facing the control staff stations.

“Morning Raine” he said, “I don’t think I need ask if you slept well?”

Raine shrugged his shoulders good-naturedly.

“This poor library must be sick of the constant alterations by now.”

Bernard nodded “If these walls could only talk,” he mused. “On second thoughts perhaps not, Ki and I have embarrassed you enough to last a lifetime as it is.”

“It took some getting used to,” came the reply, “but at least I now know there’s nothing to be scared of.”

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“Fear,” pondered Bernard, “I’ve had a lot of fear.

Fear of failure, fear of rejection, fear of being inappropriately dressed for an important cocktail party… but the worst fear of all is fear of living.

We all have to live, Raine, and live the way we want to. That’s what this project is all about.”

“I understand now,” said Raine, quietly, “but aren’t you afraid of what you’re about to do?”

Bernard looked at Raine evenly, man to man. It was a strange feeling for Raine, like some sort of respect was passing between them, almost the way he sometimes felt about his dad.

“I’m not afraid of death, Raine,” he said at length, “I’ve been close to death many times before. I’m not afraid for Ki either; he is his own man now and shares the risk by choice. If I have any fear at all, it is for Cressida. I do so want us to be a family again when this is all over.”

“I’m sure everything will be fine,” said Raine, trying for all he was worth to sound sincere and reassuring, “but do you think my parents and the monkeys could help at this point? After all, they can hardly stop you now?”

Bernard shook his head sadly. “They will be battling the Red Man as we speak, Raine. If we contact them, they may lead him here, and I have no intention of doing harm to my guests, or to my charges. We must handle this alone.”

As if on cue, Gerdi and Ruud entered the library “control room,” arm in arm. Ruud, impeccably attired in a flattering grey flannel suit, walked over to Bernard and laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder, in that casual way that he often did, 155

whilst Gerdi, now resplendent in her best battledress, strutted up and down the consoles, giving a reassuring word here and a piece of advice there.

At length she resumed her place behind the master control panel. All eyes were on her as she announced; “Two hours to launch gentlemen!” **** Winded and wounded, Hearno managed to drag himself to his feet and stagger along the corridor where he had earlier witnessed the crushing of his brother and their friends Zoltan and Anna. As he saw the full horror of the rock fall, heard the deafening silence, he fell to his knees and wept.

He couldn’t face the Red Man alone. He wouldn’t stand a chance against him. “What should I do now?” he wailed, “I CAN’T DO THIS!” “Oh, shut up moaning and get this rock off me!” came Monkey’s voice from beneath the rubble.

Hearno practically fell over with surprise but found himself scrabbling to remove rocks and dust from the pile, finding within him a strength he never knew he had. Monkey continued moaning as Hearno struggled with rocks he should never have been able to lift, until finally Monkey was free.

“This is it!” growled Monkey, “this is the final conflict! I have had about enough of the Red Man. When next I meet with him, one of us will not be coming back and it won’t be me! Besides, my fur is all dusty now!”

Hearno was taking no notice. He was staring sadly at the solitary red Wellington boot which lay half-buried in the rubble. Monkey walked over to

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his brother and lay a comforting paw on his shoulder.

“They were good people, Monkey. They didn’t deserve this. Think about poor Raine, he has lost both of his parents today. Who will look after him?

We can’t do it… we’ve had no parental training… I suppose Kieran and Bernard might be able…”

“WILL YOU SHUT UP!” yelled Monkey. “Zoltan and Anna are not dead. They are, however, buried beneath this huge pile of rocks. Do you think we might try and rescue them at some point in the future?”

“But…” “But nothing, cloth ears! Get lifting!”

The two monkeys began moving more rocks and dust. “But what about Zoltan’s boot?” asked Hearno, “I saw it moving before?”

Monkey sighed. “Your point being…?”

“Well, now it’s stopped. Surely that means that Zoltan is dead?”

Monkey paused for a moment, paws on hips as he stared first at the Wellington boot, then at Hearno. “Trust me, they are both alive. I saw them as the rocks fell.”

Hearno wanted to ask more but decided against the idea. Instead he picked up more stones and continued the rescue attempt.

The monkeys had been moving stones for over half an hour when they finally uncovered the rest of the Wellington boot. Hearno was surprised to see that Zoltan’s foot was not inside. In fact, Zoltan and Anna were nowhere to be seen.

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“See?” said Monkey optimistically, “I told you not to worry about the boot!”

Out of the corner of his eye, Hearno noticed something moving around in the shadows behind him. He spun around, expecting to see the Red Man and Dahut, almost fainting as he saw Zoltan and Anna.

“But… how… what?”

Zoltan smiled. “I’m getting a little better with my magic, don’t you think?” he laughed.

Monkey’s eyes soared upwards. “Shall we try and get out of here?” he grumbled.

“Sure,” Anna replied, “I know how the Red Man and Dahut got out. They went up a flight of steps which have been blocked by that pile of rubble.”

She pointed to another rockslide on the other side of the cavern. They ran over to it and began to scoop away with their bare hands.

“Shhh….!” hissed Zoltan. Everyone stopped their frantic digging for a moment. From deep within the cavern, a thin unearthly buzzing sound echoed ever closer.

Anna cringed. “It’s not some sort of giant mosquito is it?”

“Nonsense,” sniffed Monkey haughtily, “there’s no such thing!”

“And how would you know?” Zoltan demanded, “I suppose those giant slugs were figments of our imagination?”

“Well I just so happened to have spent a few pleasant hours of tropical passion with a mosquito net in the distant past. She never claimed to have encountered such a creature.”

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“You don’t find many mosquito nets down a mineshaft,” drawled Hearno, unhelpfully.

“Besides,” persisted Anna, “who would have thought giant three-headed gerbils existed either?”

“That’s different,” protested Monkey, sulkily.

By now, the thin whine had mutated into a steady thrum of electro-mechanical pulses, accompanied by the unmistakable spludge of marching feet on stoney ground.

“An army!” exclaimed Anna.

“Worse than that…” added Monkey, with a note of doom, “…an electric wheelchair!”

Suddenly, their dank cavern was flooded with the cold beam of a searchlight.

“Hold it right there!” came the overly-shrill command.

A sumptuously upholstered electric wheelchair hove into view, almost totally encapsulating a diminutive but grimly determined tetraplegic Asian man. Wound in the most beautiful gem-encrusted sari, he shone like a wondrous jewel. Anna gasped in breath-taking admiration.

“Greetings insignificant people, I am Princess Kaur the all-powerful,” he announced in a highly suspicious falsetto, “and who might you be?”

“Erm… would you believe that we’re a team of super-heroes here to thwart the plans of the evil Red Man, who is in the process of attempting to take over the world?” ventured Zoltan, nervously.

“Dressed like that?” he sneered, looking the lycraclad figure up and down disdainfully, “I don’t think so, honey!”

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“No, honestly, he’s speaking the truth,” said Monkey, unsure why he felt the need to justify his actions to the Princess.

“Ah…” came the knowing reply, “now I begin to believe you. You’re that meddling sock puppet the van Bookshelfs told me about.”

“You know Bernard, the dreaded Baron?”

“Former Baron,” he countered smugly, “yes I know him. He did a little translation work for me at a disabled megalomaniac conference in Nijmegen… or was it Bradford? I can’t quite remember.

Anyway, I’m sure it involved Urdu, Dutch and Yorkshire in some combination or other.” He waved the confusion away lightly with a shake of the head.

Behind him, a bodyguard of Asian youths in smart black suits shifted uncomfortably. Anna noticed that they all sported spectacularly floppy hair, many of them with blond highlights.

“So, are you and the van Bookshelfs close then?”

“To begin with, I thought he was a bit of a wimp,” came the reply, “he doesn’t really need an electric chair, being a paraplegic and all, but there again you can’t really imagine him tolerating rough palms and, as he observed so astutely, pushing gloves are so last season, darling!” The Princess giggled coquettishly, snapping his fingers. Upon being given the signal, his army all gave a wellrehearsed synchronized giggle. Looking around himself conspiratorially, he added, with a whisper “of course he’s quite mad you know? He wants to take over the world!”

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Monkey smiled and relaxed. “Well I’m glad we agree on that,” he laughed.

“Well, my pretty ones, much as I’d love to stay here and chat, my faithful henchmen are growing restless.” He raised his hand in anticipation of giving the signal for his army to march on.

“May I just ask one question of you please, erm… your Highness?” asked Zoltan tentatively.

Princess Kaur flashed an encouraging smile.

“What exactly are you doing down here, anyway?”

“A very good question, bearing in mind the inherent danger that this subterranean environment could pose to my favorite sari,” he conceded magnanimously, “and as you are friends with the van Bookshelf's, I will enlighten you with my most fiendishly evil plan. It is my intention to flood the London underground by burrowing into the groundwater in certain strategic parts of the Soho area. With the tube submerged beyond salvage, those pesky able-bods will have to build a new system, and this time it’ll be totally wheelchair accessible!” He gave out a highly disturbing shrill cackle and waited for the applause, which duly came from his assembled henchmen.

“But, we’re in Towndale. London’s hundreds of miles away!” exclaimed Anna.

“Precisely! From this distance, no-one will ever suspect that I was responsible for this great deed.

That is, of course, until I announce it live on national television! I have connections with the BBC,” he concluded, with a wink. “Onward my brave henchmen!” called Princess Kaur, boldly, 161

and in moments, the electric wheelchair and entourage were gone, plunging the tunnel back into silent blackness.

“Don’t even say it,” growled Monkey, as the pregnant pause threatened to swallow them up.

They eventually cleared the exit and made their way up the long flight of stone steps, emerging into the bright sunlight in the grounds of the newly rebuilt hotel outside Towndale.

“Let’s head back home,” said Zoltan, “we can try and work out a plan from there.” **** “Ladies and Gentlemen,” announced Bernard excitedly, “you may be wondering why we are all here today and what your individual roles will be within my grand megalomaniac schemes?”

There was a general murmur of confirmation from the army of ‘volunteers’.

“As you know, for a number of years we have been collecting space debris in our ‘Clean up space as well as your clothes’ campaign.

However, without the knowledge of the authorities, we have been using the debris, not for display purposes as our campaign led people to believe but recycling them to create our very own rocket ship!” Gasps of shock and spontaneous applause rippled through the assembled crowd, the majority of the hypnotised college boys bearing expressions of utter confusion, their leader and master appearing to have gone crazy overnight. “Now, my friends,” he continued, “You are probably wondering why there would be a

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need for us to build and launch such a rocket ship? Let me explain further.”

“Currently unbeknown to anyone else in the world, a large comet has recently changed its orbit and is, as we speak, heading towards Earth on a collision course. The comet contains the ancient Book of the Future and has been harmlessly orbiting the Earth for many centuries, searching in vain for the Book of the Past, in order that the two books might once again be reunited and become an all-powerful force at the hands of its owner.”

“It is my intention to retrieve the Book of the Future, thereby deflecting the path of the comet and saving the world. I will then reunite both books and use their combined power to grant my most eagerly anticipated wish.” He let out another of his fruity cackles to the sound of applause from his servants. Kieran shot him a ‘wish you wouldn’t do that’ glance and Bernard smiled sweetly back.

“Now, ladies and gentlemen, if you would excuse us? Kieran and I have a small matter to attend to!”

The two men left the room and the assembled crowd fell into pointless murmuring.

A few moments later, a round of riotous applause accompanied Bernard and Kieran as they reentered the control room, positively iridescent in gold and silver lame spacesuits. On his wrist, Kieran proudly wore the Zero-G resistant platinum watch, which Bernard had specifically bought for him as an anniversary present, whilst Bernard himself had transferred to an awe-inspiring wheelchair, resplendent in chrome and replete with special modifications.

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“Thank you, my dear, dear friends” he announced “Today is a very special day. If my powers of prediction prove correct, and I feel sure that they will, the van Bookshelf name will from henceforth and forever be associated, not with taking over the world, but with saving it!”

Another round of giddy applause burst forth.

Kieran and Bernard duly took half-bows, blushing slightly “However, let us not forget the debt we owe to the people in this room, who have worked so hard to bring this great day to pass. In particular I would like to thank Gerdi van de Tuin in advance for her excellent administration and technical skills, Raine Connell for his voluntary assistance and immaculate discretion and Ruud van Nistelhoven for bringing some rugged male glamour to the proceedings. Most of all, I should like to thank my adoptive country, The Kingdom of the Netherlands for their continued and unstinting support. If it were not for their “Clean up Space as well as your clothes with Ys Detergent” campaign, we would have been without sufficient building materials for this magnificent craft. I call upon, Ruud van Nistelhoven, as our resident celebrity Dutchman, to christen our spacecraft.”

Ruud blushed and joined Bernard and Kieran at the control screen. With the flick of a switch, the screen rose to reveal a large window, filled with part of a shocking pink booster rocket. Kieran handed him a bottle of special reserve “Dutch Megalomaniac” advocaat, tied to the hull with the traditional ribbon.

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“I name this ship, Stiff Tulip,” boomed Ruud, “may God bless her, and all who sail in her!” Gerdi flicked a second switch and, through the main picture window at the front of the library, the national flag of the Netherlands could clearly be seen, electro-magnetically hoisted up a specially constructed flagpole. Meanwhile, somewhere deep within the bowels of the library, a stylus was being mechanically lowered onto a record groove and the sound of the Dutch National Anthem filled the library. In a touching moment of patriotic zeal, Ruud, Gerdi, Bernard and Kieran stood to attention and saluted their country.

Raine bit his lip. He was slowly being torn between respect for the wishes of Bernard and Kieran, and concern that their scheme was too large for them to complete without more help. The very size and scale of the booster rocket just increased his fears. How could these two men complete the task ahead of them without the undoubted powers of Monkey and still return home safe to their daughter?

“Forgive me, Auntie and Uncle,” he whispered, as he pressed the speed dial button on his mobile. **** “Hello?” said Zoltan. He shook his phone “Hello?”

“Great. A crank call,” grumbled Anna, “that’s the least of our worries right now.”

“No, I can hear music,” said Monkey, “it sounds familiar but I just can’t quite place it.”

“Dutch National Anthem,” quipped Hearno.

“Oh I see. You can hear now,” Monkey retorted, petulantly.

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“I don’t understand, who’d be playing us the…”

“Bernard!” cried Monkey, “something’s happening at the library. Don’t you see? This is a sign. We have to get over there, right now!”

“We’re on the other side of town,” whined Hearno.

“Then we’ll have to run,” Monkey yelled.

Zoltan kept his ear to the phone as they dashed through the busy morning streets.

“I can hear something else now, it sounds like a woman counting.”

“Are you sure you’re all right, Zoltan dear?” gasped Anna breathlessly.

I’m not going batchy, woman” snapped Zoltan.

It’s all right, Don’t worry!” said Hearno, who had clambered on top of Zoltan’s shoulders, “I can see the library building from here, there’s nothing happening.”

Monkey peered into the distance. Indeed the library looked like the flat-pack structure it always had. As they continued to rush towards the building, they could see people casually walking past on the pavement, minding their own business on a typical morning in Towndale. Suddenly, they stopped and began to point.

Monkey screamed in horror as he watched the building start to move. As if it were a normal, natural occurrence, the entire building expanded, and the multicoloured dome of the anteroom rose high into the air, revealing a dusky-pink “Flash Gordon”-style spaceship. Strapped to either side were two enormous pink booster rockets.

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“There’s writing on them, can you make it out, Zoltan?” said Anna, as the group sprinted towards the launch site.

“N..E..T..H..E..R..L..”

“Netherlands,” confirmed Monkey. “Well, you've got to hand it to Bernard, he certainly built big ones to write that many letters on.”

The entire structure was hundreds of metres tall, dwarfing the entire town; truly the van Bookshelf’s had excelled themselves this time.

“But what the hell do they think they’re doing?” panted Zoltan.

“Who knows?” Monkey replied, “but a spaceship that size in the hands of a dangerous half-mad megalomaniac can’t be good news for any of us.

We have to stop him!”

“I get it now,” said Zoltan, “the woman is counting down, they’re three minutes to blast-off.”

“This is worse than I thought,” groaned Monkey to himself. “You three look after things here,” he yelled as he ran ahead.

Before him, the entire library had now opened to reveal a huge rocket and launch platform. Monkey ran straight for the rocket, aware that the countdown was almost complete. He threw himself at the giant pink erection, diving through a conveniently placed unlocked window and slamming it shut behind him.

“3… 2… 1… Blast off!” came the announcement.

Beneath his feet, Monkey could feel the rocket rumble and shake into action. The powerful thrust of the rocket carried the craft slowly into the air for the first couple of feet, before the acceleration 167

became such that Monkey found himself squashed helplessly to the floor by the G-forces.

He lay there, flattened to the ground, watching the walls vibrate with the power of the thrust for several minutes until the initial power of the blastoff subsided and the shaking eased. A few moments later they were in space, the giant pink booster rockets fell away and Monkey found that he was able to get to his feet at last.

He looked out of the window and watched as the Earth grew smaller and smaller.

“At least it’s not dirty in here,” he thought to himself.

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Ten “All right you egg-heads” yelled the American soldier, General Post-Office, “where the heck did that one come from? You’re supposed to be monitoring these god-damn things 24/7, aren’t you?”

A short, wispy-haired boffin still half-awake with his tie loosely hung around the open neck of the tshirt he’d been sleeping in, nodded nervously.

“This comet isn’t due to come within five hundred thousand kilometres of here, sir,” he stuttered.

“So, how do you explain this imminent impact?” snarled the General.

“I… I can’t,” admitted the scientist, casting his eyes to the console despondently, "the Earth's

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gravitational pull would be far too weak to make the comet alter its orbit. It just doesn't add up."

“Well, whatever,” mumbled the General, “there’ll be plenty of time to sack someone after we’ve destroyed this thing. It should be a piece of cake.”

The scientist shook his head slowly, scratching his head as a series of numbers continued to scroll through his computer terminal screen. “We can’t,” he whined.

“What do you mean, can’t?” came the barked reply.

“That thing’s over twelve thousand kilometres long. There’s no power in the world that can save us from that. I'm afraid that the comet is going to collide with our planet and wipe us all from the face of it. And those who don't die from the impact will burn as the Earth is sent out of its own orbit and towards the sun. We are doomed.”

The General looked aghast and cast his eyes around to the other assembled badly dressed space-agency team. Everyone avoided making eye contact with him, so as not to be blamed for this apparent oversight.

“That’s impossible,” he barked, his face incandescent with furious frustration, “we’ve been planning this for years! Do you know how many movies have been made about this kinda thing?

My God, what’s wrong with you people? Can’t we send up the space shuttle or something?”

“We can and we are,” said the disheveled scientist, “but there’s little chance they can do anything except observe the…”

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“Sir,” interrupted a bald-headed geek dressed in a hideous green toweling bathrobe, “we’ve detected an unscheduled launch!”

“Someone has sent a mission into space without our knowledge? What is the world coming to when we can't keep an eye on things any more? Where was this launch? Russia? French Guyana?”

“Towndale,” came the short reply.

“Towndale? Where the heck is Towndale?” demanded the General.

“Oh, you know,” said the geek, smiling, “it’s that town in England where those guys that fought that evil guy came from and…”

“England?” bellowed the General, “England? They don’t know how to send anything into space! They don't even realise that you play football by carrying a ball in your hands! Check again.”

The geek slipped a pair of headphones on and started to stab at buttons on his console in a random fashion, the way that scientific guys do when they’re trying to fool you into believing they know what they’re doing. “This is the kind of thing these scientific guys do when they’re trying to fool you into believing they know what they’re doing,” the General pondered grimly to himself.

“This just gets weirder,” said the geek at length.

“Is that a scientific term?” sneered the disheveled scientist.

“Well, what is it?” the General demanded.

The geek ran his fingers through his hair, then rubbed his eyes in disbelief. “It’s like this,” came the hesitant reply, “the launch definitely took place in England but the engine signature is American, 171

Russian and European, plus one of our spy satellites has picked up a photograph, I've arranged for a copy to be uploaded, it is just coming through now.”

The disheveled scientist strode over to the printer, ripped off the rudimentary dot matrix image and handed it to the General.

“What the heck is… my God!” he exclaimed, “this rocket has the word Netherlands written all over it!”

“A Dutch rocket with multiple engine signatures, fired from England at a comet that shouldn’t even be here?” gasped the scientist, "something is definitely not right here."

“Get a space shuttle up, NOW,” screamed the General, “there’s definitely something screwy going on up there!” **** After what seemed an eternity, the shaking died down. Kieran felt sick but didn’t want to say so.

Mentioning it would make the feeling more real, he thought. Instead he tried to concentrate on the job in hand, which was just as well, as his spouse was far too busy enjoying himself, cackling hideously, as of old.

“You know I don’t like you doing that, Bernie,” protested Kieran, “It’s creepy!”

“I’m sorry Ki,” came the chastened reply, “but I just can’t help it. It’s the dream of every evil megalomaniac to go into space.”

“Except you’re not an evil megalomaniac any more, are you?” Kieran countered.

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“No, dear,” pouted Bernard, "although the thought of resuming my evil machinations has been very tempting.".

Outside the rather purgatorial cockpit, Kieran and Bernard had ensured that they would enjoy a home-from-home lifestyle during their space mission. They stepped straight into the library ante-room, which had been fitted with an ingenious artificial gravity and retained all the delightful architectural features and appointments associated with that infamous location. Several bookshelves of travel literature lined the walls, the rich damask carpet had been thoroughly scrubbed, and the stained glass ceiling dome provided a uniquely pastel view of the stars. Pride of place however, was taken by a magnificent pink-fur lined chaise-longue, the very one which had been so significant to them during their rather unusual courtship, and where Kieran had made his wish on the falling star many years earlier. His wish had come true. Bernard was here with him, now and forever, though sometimes he itched to know what his love had wished for. He would truly have loved to have known if his wish had come true too.

“Well,” sighed Bernard warmly, “all we need do now is wait until we reach the intercept point. That should give us a little while. Are you feeling available, Ki?” Kieran was just about to decline politely on account of his rolling stomach when the decision was taken out of his hands.

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“Hold it right there,” came a small stern voice from behind one of the bookshelves.

“Monkey,” said Bernard with a half-smile, “this is… unexpected!”

“I don’t doubt it,” chucked Monkey sarcastically as he closed in on the pair, his water pistol trained on them.

“And also somewhat unfortunate,” Bernard continued, “if I try and explain all of this to you, I’ll be late for the comet. It’s bad enough that you’re intruding into my personal time with Ki, but…”

“Hang on, what comet?”

“Please can I sit down?” whined Kieran, looking decidedly green, “I don’t feel very well!”

“You can stay where you are,” snapped Monkey, “you’re as guilty as he is!”

Kieran whimpered but stayed still.

“All right, all right, let me tell you and get this over with,” groaned Bernard.

“Nearly ten years ago now, whilst I was reading a bedtime story to our daughter, an energy beam passed through me, transmitted from the story book. I’ve no idea how or why it happened, but I received a vision that shortly after Cressida’s tenth birthday, a huge comet would head towards earth containing a book that could predict the future.”

“The Book of the Future,” confirmed Monkey, nodding, “Go on?”

“Because the Book of the Past was based on earth, and the two are destined to reunite, the comet would be pulled from its usually benign course and sent hurtling to earth, causing 174

widespread death and destruction. Monkey, such a collision could cause untold disaster on Earth.

Surely you can imagine the aftermath? I'm sure some scientist somewhere has worked out the amount of damage that an impact such as this would cause.”

Monkey did some imaginings. He didn't like his imaginifications. “So, what are you planning to do?” he asked, still suspicious.

“I plan to enter the comet and retrieve the book,” replied Bernard, simply.

“You plan to reunite the books yourself and take over the world again,” Monkey sneered, “then you could turn the world gay without the need for Ys.” “I’ll not say it hadn’t occurred to me,” admitted Bernard, “that’s why Ki and I had a meeting with Gerdi, Ruud and Raine to determine our reward for saving the earth.”

“And how, pray tell, would retrieving the Book of the Future save the earth?”

“Oh, come on Monkey, keep up! The comet is only on its present course because it contains the book,” Bernard explained slightly wearily, “once it is removed, the comet will resume its usual course and the world will be saved.”

Monkey’s pistol twitched downwards very slightly, “I want to believe you, somehow your story sounds far too extravagant, even for one of your convoluted stories,” he said, “so tell me, what did you people decide was the appropriate rewards for your so-called selfless actions?”

“One wish granted when the books are reunited.”

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Monkey nodded, knowingly, “I knew it, you would never do anything as selfless as this without having some huge reward. So tell me, what would that wish be?”

Bernard leaned over in his chair and whispered something in Monkey’s ear. Monkey’s face broke into a smile. “Really? That's what you want as a reward? That's awesome! In that case, how can I help you?” he asked, warmly. He dropped the water pistol on the Damask carpet. "I'm glad to have put that down, it was very heavy."

“You weren’t really going to shoot us with it, were you?”

Monkey shrugged his woolly shoulders. “I thought you’d turned evil again. The pistol was filled with my patented slug pellet and cola mixture to dissolve you into mush.”

That image was too much for Kieran.

“Aaaaggggghhhh!” screeched Monkey, “what the hell are you doing?”

“I... I’m so sorry,” gulped Kieran.

“You’ve…. you’ve PUKED all over me!”

“There’s never a box of Ys detergent when you need it,” Bernard sighed, “look at the state of the carpet! I need to find an intergalactic cleaner now!

Pass me the Yellow Pages, Kieran…”

“Bugger the carpet!” screamed Monkey.

“Whatever floats your boat,” quipped Kieran. **** “Ten minutes to launch,” came the voice over the PA system. The space shuttle had been readied in less than an hour, a feat only made possible by the fact that it was due to be launched two days 176

hence to carry out running repairs on the Hubble space telescope, even more co-incidental was the fact that the shuttle had been decommissioned from service in late 2011, yet someone in their wisdom had the bright idea to keep one of the craft in fully working order and have the booster rockets primed, fuelled and in place, in the event of such a crisis. The eight-man crew had had their flight training cut short in order to pilot the shuttle.

Each had been told about the importance of their mission: they were to fly the shuttle on a collision course with the comet.

The shuttle itself had been heavily laden with powerful explosives, as yet untested but believed to be powerful enough to cause some serious damage to an entire continent. Scientists had calculated that the force of the collision with the comet would probably not be enough to destroy it but may be sufficient to divert its path away from the earth.

As the crew began their final checks, they were either too busy, too nervous or just too stupid to notice that they had just become an nine-man team. The countdown had entered its final minute and the crew were strapped into their seats, ready for takeoff. Communications were given a final test as the booster rockets rumbled into action.

The countdown was complete, the gantry fell away and the shuttle rose majestically into the air, slicing through the atmosphere and out into space in less than five minutes.

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“Exploration, this is Houston, do you read me?” came the voice over the radio.

“Houston, this is Exploration. We read you loud and clear. Man, Mother Earth looks beautiful from up here!”

“Glad to hear that, Chip,” came the control supervisors voice, “it’s up to you to make sure she stays that way.”

“We will do our darned best, sir!”

Chip Chaos removed his helmet and smiled into the video link, his teeth twinkling as he ran his hand through his blonde mane and took off his dark sunglasses. “I’m sure glad this was our mission, sir. We’ll be coming home as heroes. I can see endless magazine deals, book signings, television appearances. This is what my crew and I have been waiting for. We are going to be the biggest, most important people in the whole wide world.”

“You already are, Chip! This is big news. This transmission is being broadcast over every global television network simultaneously. Everyone is watching you right now. Do you have a message for the folks back home?”

Chip’s smile broadened. “I sure do, sir. I’d like to assure the folks that we are going to save them from this threat," he smoozeled. "They have nothing to fear now that Chip Chaos is on the case. No-one and nothing threatens the world when I’m about. If there’s trouble, I’ll be there. For if I can help, I will. When no other man can do the job, just call for Chip Chaos and I’ll come running…”

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The crew at ground control began yawning. “…and another thing, if anyone out there needs their lil old cat rescuing from a tree, just let me know. Oh, and any old grannies who need help across the street, I’ll do that too. I’ll cut the grass for them, ‘cos that’s the kinda guy I am…”

The control room supervisor fell asleep. “… and let me tell you about the time when the little guy fell off his trike and grazed his knee. I was the one…" Chip had really got the hang of smoozeling. In fact, several hours passed before Chip was finally smoozeled out. The control room supervisor awoke with a start.

“Err… anything else, Chip?”

“Yes sir. Use Ys detergent, for clothes as clean as an astronauts. Eight out of ten astronauts wives said they preferred it.” He winked rakishly at the monitor.

“Roger that, Chip,” came the weary reply from ground control, “listen, fellas, you guys are doing wonders for reality TV ratings! Most channels are broadcasting every move you make. You won’t even be able to pee without being seen by everyone on earth!”

“That’s just fine and dandy, sir! We’re like pigs in swill up here. I especially like the touch of providing pureed catfish among our food supplies.

You know that’s my favorite, sir.”

“No problem, Chip.”

“And thanks for the note, sir. I’ll miss you too.”

The supervisor blushed and shifted his weight nervously. “That’s ok, Chip. Just drop it, shall we?”

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“Did I leave my toothbrush at yours last night, sir?

I can’t find it in my case.”

“I said leave it, Chip!”

“It’s just… well, you know how I am with my personal hygiene.”

“Chip, I put it in your overnight case. Now will you please shut up and listen to me for a moment? I think there is something wrong with the medi-links for Major Look, Major Stare and Major Señor Underwear. Can you check them out for me?”

“Roger you there, sir.”

“I SAID LEAVE IT, CHIP!” Chip got up from his seat and picked up the camera. He smiled into the lens. "Let me show our viewers around the comforts of a space shuttle." The camera wandered over to where Look, Stare and Underwear were sitting. All seemed to have nodded off, their heads lolling slightly. However, as Chip got nearer, he realised that this was not the case.

“My God, sir! Major Look, Major Stare and Major Señor Underwear are a little bit dead! It looks like they have had their necks broken. Probably during the launch, we did set off pretty quickly. In fact, I'm sure one of them had a stiff neck this morning.”

An eerie silence fell over the staff at ground control.

“Sir? Do you read me sir?” came Chip’s voice.

“We hear you, Chip,” came the saddened reply.

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Chip decided the time was right to change the subject. “Any sign of that big pink thing yet, sir? I can't wait to get my hands on it.”

“Chip, I’ve asked you to drop the subject. Now is definitely not the time to resort to discussions about our sex life, especially not in situations like this. We have far more important things to worry about, like saving the world. Having my sex life broadcast to the entire global community in this way is not what I had in mind when I signed up for this job.”

“I was referring to the rogue rocket, sir.”

“The rocket? Oh yes. Of course. I’m sorry, Chip."

He sought a way to dig himself out of this one.

"It’s just that the news of the deaths has been a bit of a shock." He looked around to see everyone watching him. He could tell by the frowns, mixed with the blank expressions and smirky behindhand giggles that he hadn’t succeeded in deflecting attention from him. "Err, in answer to your question, Chip, the rogue is on the same course as you. You should be able to make visual contact in approximately thirty minutes.”

“And the comet?”

“About another ten minutes after that. Do you remember the drill?”

“Yes indeed sir, it’s in the toolshed, near the jigsaw. I put it back after I had finished putting the shelf up…”

“Not that drill, Chip. The procedure that we had briefed you on. Those extremely important meetings we all had recently? You know, the entire mission?”

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“Oh, THAT drill! Yes sir. We make full visual contact with the comet, switch to autopilot and using the escape pod, make our way back home while this little bird smashes into and destroys the big ball of fire.”

“Ice, Chip. It’s made of ice.”

“I knew that…”

An incessant bleeping sound began squealing from one of the computer terminals, attracting the attention of General Post-Office. He studied the information that filled the screen. “Chip, what is going on up there? Mike Rocks’ life signs are going haywire!” he barked.

Chip turned around and his face fell. Mike Rocks was walking towards him, his face whiter than a white thing from the planet White, a trickling of blood rolling from the corner of his mouth.

“Rocky?” whispered Chip, "Rocky, are you ok?"

There was no reply from his colleague. Instead, Mike Rocks fell heavily forward to the floor, having had the audacity to die without even giving an explanation. Dashed inconsiderate, in my point of view. And, as Rocks hit the ground, Chip could see the reason for his untimely death; a large metal pole was embedded in his back, protruding slightly from his stomach. Like a giant astronaut lollipop. But not as tasty. Assuming that astronaut lollipops are tasty, I don't know, I've never had one. In fact, I'm not sure they even exist. Perhaps this wasn't such a good analogy after all. “Sir,” Chip muttered, his voice quivering, “I think we may have a situation up here.”

“What’s going on, Chip?” came the nervous reply.

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“I don’t know, sir. It seems my crew are dying one by one in untimely and gruesome fashion. This suggests one of two causes. One of my crew is, for no apparent reason, murdering his/her colleagues. Or perhaps all four men were victims to a series of bizarre accidents caused during liftoff. Or perhaps we have a hostile on board."

"That's three reasons, Chip."

Chip nodded, sagely, "Isn’t it just? Anyway, I am assuming that we have a hostile on board, some sort of hideous alien creature. The other suggestions are far too ridiculous to consider. I think we should cease transmission to the public until this situation is resolved.”

“I think you’re right, Chip,” said the control room supervisor, Ivor Ash, his finger hovering over the transmission button. He hesitated. He was being paid a lot of money by the television companies to broadcast this, and he didn’t intend giving that up now, simply because some over-paid astronauts might get torn limb from limb by a space alien live on every television network in the world. He decided to leave the broadcast open after all.

"You're off air, Chip," he lied.

Chip gathered together the remaining members of his crew and filled them in on the goings on. And the goings off too, because the milk was out of date and was in the process of separating. The three members agreed with his conclusion that there may be a hideous alien on board and vowed to find the source of the destruction and put an end to its reign of terror. One way or another, this

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brutal, murderous creature was going to pay for the deaths of their friends.

In order to stay safe, it was a sensible plan for them to move around in pairs. The first team would patrol the ship and search for the perpetrator, the other group would stay at the flight deck and monitor the comet and controls.

Being in twos would definitely keep them all safe.

Chip and the only female member of the group, Shirley Knott, agreed to pilot the ship while the other two, Brett Fast and Randy Booker went on the search for the killer. It would have been the other way around, had it not been for the fact that Chip had cleverly rigged the results by switching the straws drawn by the team while they had all been conveniently distracted when he "saw" what could have been a hideous alien in the corner of the cockpit, but turned out to be some furry dice.

Brett and Randy wandered around the sleeping quarters, looking for any sign of disruption, although it seemed as though all was in order.

The two men could have been twins. Brett, the older of the two, had an impressive blonde mane, a rash of blonde stubble and a physique that justified all the many hours he spent in the gym.

Randy, on the other hand, had short, receding brown hair, a feeble attempt at a moustache and an excessive waistband which demonstrated that he had never stepped foot inside a gym within his entire life.

“I’m beginning to think that Chip has lost his mind,” Randy growled, “all this talk of killers on 184

board the ship. I would have thought that we would have known if anyone came on board! I mean, have you seen anyone here that shouldn’t have been?”

Brett shook his head. “Perhaps it really is an alien? Maybe it’s an invisible one that sneaks up from behind and kills people when they least expect it?” He picked up a pillow and hugged it, shivers running down his spine as he half imagined Sigourney Weaver to come bursting in at any moment.

“Yes, and perhaps you watch too many movies, Brett! There is nobody here but us. What happened to the others was most likely the result of a series of bizarre accidents. These things happen.”

“I don’t like it,” whispered Brett. “You know what they say… in space, no-one can hear you scream!”

“Don’t be ridiculous! Of course they can!” snapped Randy, “Why don’t you try it?"

Brett gave him a blank look.

"Go ahead, scream! Let's see what happens?"

Brett shrugged, then screamed, a long, earpiercing scream which sent shivers down Randy’s spine. If screaming were an Olympic sport, Brett would definitely win the gold medal.

“See? I heard that!”

A voice came over their speaker helmets.

“Randy? Brett? What was that? Are you guys ok?

Have you been horribly mutilated by a hideous alien yet?"

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“We’re fine!” sighed Randy, “Brett here was practicing his screaming technique.”

“Well don’t!” yelled Chip, “I have a migraine coming on. It’s a very stressful job, this. I'm trying to skillfully negotiate this spacecraft through a minor meteor shower, and then I will be trying to skillfully negotiate my way into Shirley's underwear."

"Hang on, I thought you were into men?"

Chip was puzzled. "I am. What of it?"

"Then why do you want to skillfully negotiate your way into Shirley's underwear?"

"They are a very nice colour. I think they'd suit me. What do you think?"

“I hadn't really thought about it, to be honest,” said Brett, shooting Randy a warning glance, in case he decided to let off another girly scream, “anyway, the living quarters are secure. We’re gonna head right on down to the cargo bay, Chip.

We’ll check that the cargo is secure.”

Chip murmured a noise that implied an agreement as he imagined the feeling of Shirley’s underwear on his skin, “just make sure that you keep me informed of any developments.”

Brett and Randy agreed and began making their way towards the cargo bay. Brett was not convinced about the series of bizarre accidents theory, he believed his theory about invisible aliens was much more plausible. “How would you explain the deaths then?” he asked of Randy.

“Well, in my uneducated opinion, if Major Look, Major Stare and Major Señor Underwear were not properly fastened in during the launch, the 186

acceleration could easily have snapped their necks. That would have killed them instantly.”

“And Rocky?” challenged Brett, "he had a long piece of metal stuck through his body. How do you explain that one?"

“Well, perhaps he was thrown backwards during the launch and impaled himself on the pole. I imagine we have a lot of unexposed poles protruding out of many areas on board so it’s definitely plausible. I am certain there is a perfectly logical explanation for all this. There is definitely not an invisible alien on board. We would have seen it.”

“It’s invisible…” began Brett.

“I was being sarcastic.” **** “Chip, how are things up there? You’ve all gone very quiet?” came the voice of Ivor Ash at ground control.

“Things are just fine, sir. Brett and Randy are out looking for the killer while Shirley and I wait here.”

“Excellent plan,” said Ivor, “there’s just one question; what happens when they meet the killer?”

Chip imagined his two colleagues running in circles, screaming as they tried to hide from the hideous alien. “How do you mean, sir?”

“Well, are they going to kill it or capture it? If it is a genuine hideous alien, the Government would be very interested. Kill it, and the chance could be lost forever. You haven’t exactly thought this through, have you?”

“Err… no sir. I guess not.”

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There was a long pause from ground control.

“Chip,” came Ivor’s voice, filled with panic, “there is definitely something else aboard that shuttle.

The motion detectors are picking it up now, heading towards the cargo bay.”

“But that’s where Brett and Randy are heading, sir. Are you sure it’s not them?”

“Positive, Chip. They are in there already. We have sight of them on the sensors.”

Chip and Shirley looked at each other in silent terror. “We have to go and help them, Chip!” urged Shirley.

“We can’t. We have to stay here and look out for the rogue and the comet.”

“Well, at least warn them! Don’t let it get them!”

Chip hung his head. “There’s nothing we can do.

You know as well as I do that they are out of range in the cargo bay. We can’t get hold of them until they fire up the special communications console down there. The one that NASA dug out from some previous space mission because budgets were too tight to buy a new one.”

“But we have to do something!” pleaded Shirley, "They are our friends, our colleagues. We have to go and save them!"

“I’m sorry. I truly am. But if we leave here, there will be nobody to skillfully negotiate the small meteor shower.” **** Brett and Randy looked around the cargo bay and examined their load. In the centre of the bay stood the huge missile that carried with it the hopes of the whole world. The rest of the cargo bay was 188

packed tightly with as many explosive devices as possible, crammed into every available space, designed to make the biggest possible impact to give at least a fighting chance to the people back home.

“This place seems secure too,” said Brett, tugging at the straps that held the payload in place, “where to now?”

“Let’s try the engine room. There’s nothing more we can do in here.”

As they were about to leave, the door to the cargo bay slammed shut with a resounding metallic clang. The two men turned around to see an astronaut standing there, helmet securely fastened and visor blackened.

“It’s ok to take your helmet off down here, the cargo doors are shut," Randy called, frowning as he tried to establish who was in the suit, especially as Chip and Shirley were supposed to be in the cockpit negotiating a small meteor shower.

The stranger made no attempt to remove its helmet. Instead, simply held out the palm of their left hand. From the tips of the fingers of the gloved hand danced thousands of tiny sparks of light.

The two men watched in surprised as the light grew brighter, unable to turn away from it, becoming more and more afraid of it. They tried to move but realised to their horror that they were rooted to the spot. The light grew brighter and brighter, becoming a searing ball of flame. It became so bright that it felt as though it was burning holes into the back of their eyes, yet still 189

they couldn’t turn away from it. Terrified but unable to scream, unable to move, they watched as without warning a huge flash of light erupted from the strangers hand. The stranger grabbed hold of the door handle as the light struck the roof of the cargo bay and burst the doors open.

Instantly the bay depressurised and anything that wasn’t securely fastened was sucked out into space, including Brett and Randy, several missiles and various pieces of racking and shelving and a crate of pureed catfish, which would upset Chip beyond measure. Even if they could, Randy and Brett wouldn’t have had the time to scream before their bodies imploded with the sudden change in pressure. Brett’s invisible alien theory had proved half right, at least. And it was also partly true that in space, nobody did hear them scream. **** “Chip?” came Ivor’s voice, “Chip, I’ve lost trace of Brett and Randy. What is going on up there?”

“I don’t know, sir,” sighed Chip, “I’ve just seen their bodies float past the front window, together with a load of missiles and stuff and a crate of pureed catfish. Which is rather annoying. I thought that maybe they were going shopping or something. I do believe that we should abort the mission, however. There are not enough of us on board to be able to carry on. Permission to return this baby home?”

“Permission denied, Chip,” came the cold reply.

“I’m sorry?”

“You cannot bring that shuttle back to Earth. One mistake in the landing would cause the entire 190

cargo to explode. You have enough explosives on board to destroy America and leave a crater several thousands of miles wide. I cannot allow you to bring that home. Besides, if you have a hideous alien on board that is terrorising the crew, that could be disastrous if it were to be released into the population down here on Earth.”

Chip's jaw fell open. A small, pathetic sounding squeak came from him. “But what about Knott and I, sir?” he squeaked.

“You knew the risks, Chip.”

“We didn’t know we were going to be hunted like rabbits. I don’t remember seeing that in my contract. Nobody mentioned hideous aliens.”

“Chip, just stick to the mission. You should be able to make visual contact with the rogue in a few moments. The comet will be soon after. Once you have set the shuttle onto its target mission, you will be able to use the escape capsule and return home as planned. Hold your composure, Chip, and everything will be fine. Trust me, nobody wants to see you mauled to death by a hideous alien.”

“Roger, sir,” said Chip, unhappily.

“Oh, and by the way,” added Ivor, brightly, “you know this hideous alien of yours?”

“Yes?” came Chip’s hopeful reply, “has it been sucked out into space?”

“Not exactly. It’s outside the cockpit door.”

Shirley and Chip turned to face the door, breathing as silently as possible but believing that each breath sounded like a gale force wind. And 191

with the video link still running, the whole world was able to witness the adventures of their favorite astronauts on the ultimate reality television program. Who would be the next astronaut evicted from the Big Brother space shuttle?

Shirley moved close to the video link, tears streaming down her face, her nose running in great streams. “There’s… something out there,” she whispered, “we don’t know what it is, but it is trying to kill us. Some say it’s a hideous alien, others believe it’s a witch...”

“Perhaps it’s a door-to-door brush salesman?” interrupted Chip, wiping his nose on his sleeve, “or a…”

“I can hear it scratching at the door… its… coming in! Oh my God!!” screamed Shirley, becoming increasingly hysterical, “its hideous… its… a woman?”

In the doorway stood a woman, her long dark hair floating around behind her. She raised an eyebrow as Chip and Shirley looked at her in terror.

“Hello,” smiled the woman, “I don’t want any trouble. I just want your space shuttle, if that’s ok?”

Chip and Shirley looked at each other for a moment.

“Sure,” said Chip, “take it. Have my seat, if you like? Can I get you a cup of coffee or anything?”

“Chip!” snapped Shirley, “how could you! What about our mission?”

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“Never mind our mission!” snapped Chip, “what about me? I’m too young to die, this face is too gorgeous to be spread across the cockpit of a space shuttle!”

“But the people back home are relying on us to save them! Without us, billions of people will die!”

“So? I don’t know any of them. I don’t owe them anything,” wailed Chip, “and what have they ever done for me?”

Shirley placed her hands on her hips, her forehead creasing with shock at the way her Captain was behaving. “Maybe nothing, Chip. You probably won't get to meet them either. But this is your one chance at glory, your one shot at being a hero. When we get back home, everyone will point at you and say ‘he is the man that saved my life.’ Doesn’t that appeal to you? The sheer fact that you’ll be receiving total admiration from the entire global population?”

Chip paused for a moment. He looked at Shirley, then at the woman and back at Shirley again.

“Now you come to mention it,” said Chip, “no, not really. I’d much rather save my own skin.”

“Oh, for goodness sake, make your mind up!” snapped the woman, firing a bolt of energy which flew from her hand and headed straight for Chip.

Quick as a flash, as though everything happened in slow motion, Chip grabbed the nearest object to defend himself, which happened to be Shirley. He pulled her to the front of him and cringed in anticipation. The energy bolt struck Shirley in the chest, blowing a huge hole through her. Chip pushed the dead astronaut into the arms of the 193

woman and ran, screaming, into the escape pod and launched the tiny craft into space almost before he had time to sit down.

The woman raised her eyebrows in amusement and even broke into a wry smile. “A coward,” she laughed, “but I like his style!”

She walked over to the video link and stared into the camera. “Good evening, people of Earth.

Please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Dahut Gradlon and I am here by order of the Red Man, known affectionately to most of you as Lucifer, Beelzebub or the Devil. My role here is to assist in the destruction of the world as you know it by allowing the comet you have all become aware of to pass unopposed through the solar system on its collision course with earth. As a piece of remarkably good fortune, the very nice people of America have kindly donated enough explosives to destroy the majority of you anyway and I am, of course, only too pleased to oblige. As the comet strikes the earth, so too will this shuttle.

The combined effect of both impacts, timed beautifully to coincide with each other and to happen on opposite sides of the world should be sufficient to destroy the world completely. Have a nice day, everyone, what little time of it there remains.”

With a hysterical giggle, she turned off the video link.

“Now,” she said to herself, “let us see if I can fly this thing. I have a librarian to catch.”

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Eleven Zoltan and Anna watched Dahut’s transmission in horror, relaying her message to Monkey and Bernard.

Monkey shook his head sadly. "She will be after us next, she knows that we can stop the comet.

We have a real problem, guys."

Zoltan sat down at one of the terminals, "what's the matter, Monkey?"

Monkey sighed. " I don't know how we can get hold of the Book of the Past. It's down in Hades, the Red Man knows that it is safe down there.

That's why he didn't want me dead. If my soul were to pass through Hades, I could have got hold of the Book of the Past and brought it back."

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"I don't understand. If you were dead, how could you get back from Hades? It isn't like you can just come back to life. Even you can't do that, you dozy rag!"

Monkey laughed. "Sticks and stones, Zoltan.

Sticks and stones!"

Hearno sat up. He suddenly realised what Monkey had in mind. He slipped away quietly.

“How is the Stiff Tulip holding up, Bernard?” asked Gerdi.

“No problems up here. All is well. It’s a beautiful sight, looking up through the stained glass roof at the stars.”

“That’s right,” added Kieran, “we’ve seen some beautiful sights. We’ve seen Mars and Saturn, with its rings, Jupiter with its red dot and soon will be seeing Uranus, won't we, Bernard?”

“Well, maybe later, Ki…” “Listen,” said Ruud, “you are almost at the comet and Dahut is hot on your heels.”

Bernard took a deep breath. "The time has come, ladies and gentlemen. We are about to save the world, without the world even being aware of it. It is an incredible feeling, having such an influence over the future in this way. How do things look from down there?"

“Life signs and oxygen levels looking good,” smiled Anna.

Bernard turned to Monkey. “See? I can actually formulate a plan that doesn’t flop spectacularly.”

Monkey sniffed. “Yes, well… you haven’t finished yet. There’s still plenty of time for things to go horribly wrong. Had I been involved in the 196

preparations I could have gone over the entire mission with you and…”

“Look at the size of that thing!” gasped Kieran, gazing out of the window.

“He’s always saying things like that,” winked Bernard. He wheeled his chair over to the window and could clearly see the huge comet speeding toward them.

“Very good,” mused Bernard, “now, shall we turn the Stiff Tulip around so that we can fly alongside the comet? While you do that, Ki, I’ll get suited up for my spacewalk or, should I say, “space trundle”?.”

Kieran took hold of the controls of the rocket.

There was a horrendous grinding of gears and the rocket lurched sideways.

“It’s ok, I’ve got it!” called Kieran.

“Remind me to invest in some driving lessons for that boy,” muttered Bernard.

Eventually, Kieran brought the rocket alongside the comet and launched several stabilising cables, embedding into the icy structure. "All set, Bernie dear, we are nicely secured to the comet. It's over to you." **** “Now, listen carefully Bernard. That book has immeasurable powers. You must not read it, do you hear?” ordered Monkey.

“Yes my simian friend, whatever you say,” Bernard replied sweetly.

"I mean it. It tells you the future of everyone and everything in the whole world. Such knowledge

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could destroy you, send you crazy, who knows what else?"

Bernard nodded absently. "You watch the rocket, I'll worry about the book."

“Now, you sure you’re warm enough?” asked Kieran.

“Yes, yes, dear,” said Bernard irritably.

“I’m sorry,” Kieran sighed.

“No, it’s okay love. You’re just panicking. I know I’d do exactly the same, but this part of the burden is on me. You’re Cressida’s mum and, well, she needs you more than me,” he concluded, with brutal honesty.

Kieran stared down at him, with an angry determination. “You’re coming back,” he growled, “you’re coming back and we’re going to get back home and be a family again! Damn you, I’ll have none of that defeatist talk here. Where’s the spirit of Baron van Bookshelf?”

“I thought you didn’t approve of him?”

“I didn’t approve of his methods, certainly, but who can deny the impact you and I have made, because of your evil alter-ego. Now is the time to revive him, Bernie if only for this one last triumph!”

Bernard smiled and gently nuzzled his spouse.

“Have I told you lately how much I love you, Ki?” he whispered.

“Every day, every hour and every minute,” came the reply, “but even then it’s not enough. I need you back, Bernie. Come back to me.”

Bernard van Bookshelf checked his reflection in the space wheelchair mirrors and maneuvered his

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chair into the airlock, a wistful smile on his face.

Seconds later he was lost from sight.

“Towndale, come in, over.”

“Good evening, Bernard, this is Towndale,” crackled Gerdi’s reassuring voice, “good to see you have begun the EVA” “I have indeed, Gerdi. I am now releasing control of the space chair to Towndale.”

Raine watched in fascination as the camera on Bernard’s space chair blinked into life. In the distance, the trail of an enormous comet hove into view. Gerdi steered the chair from her desk in the control room, adjusting controls here and there with the military precision she had always possessed. Being a Commodore in the Royal Dutch Navy had its advantages.

“Reaching the comet's trail,” she said, “now activating shield.” She pressed a series of buttons on the control panel and a metallic cocoon drew around the space chair and the camera was plunged into darkness. Even so, the vibration as the shards of ice struck Bernard’s chair was clearly apparent as the picture, such as it was, shook ever more violently.

Then, as suddenly they had begun, the tremors were gone and the chair came to a gentle stop.

Bernard looked around himself in wonder as the cocoon drew aside. A spherical space, charged with serenity and silence, enclosed him. The walls of the room shone with a pearlescent glow. He almost thought he had died and was now within the bosom of Heaven itself. He half expected to 199

see angels with harps approaching him. For a few moments he was overcome with its beauty but then, remembering his duty, he drew a small Dutch flag on a wooden pedestal from one of the storage pockets in the space chair frame. He placed it squarely on the ground and announced gravely, “I claim this comet in the name of the Kingdom of the Netherlands.”

“Now that’s a nice touch,” grinned Ruud. Gerdi smiled back.

There, in the centre of the sphere, Bernard could clearly see a large white book, framed by what could only be described as a halo, suspended in the frozen vacuum of space. Gingerly he approached the relic, experimentally laying his hands on the illumination. He felt the power of the book surge through his body, a calming yet stimulating energy, charging him with love and optimism. As he held the book, drawing it to his chest, he broke his own deepest vow, opened the book and began to read. He had assured both Kieran and Monkey that he did not wish to learn more of the future than his power of farseeing would allow, but now the temptation was proving just too great. Monkey would be furious, were he to find out about this indiscretion. As if on cue, Monkey popped himself out of Bernard’s spacesuit, wheezing for air.

“My word, Bernard old chap,” he remarked, “you must think about reducing the amount of cologne you apply. Delightful though it is in the short term, it’s certainly breathtaking, quite literally over… what are you doing?”

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Bernard stared, dewy eyes at the pages, totally ignoring the sock puppet poking out of his chest and now waving frantically to distract him.

“Stop it!” Monkey ordered, “damn you, man, look at me!”

Bernard turned to Monkey, his eyes now wet with tears.

Seeing the expression of desolation was simply too much. Monkey dived into the book, greedily scanning the words.

“Ah… yes,” he ventured hesitantly, “I erm… see your point! That really isn't the future you had in mind, I take it?"

Bernard shook his head sadly. "Of course, I had foreseen this but having it confirmed in writing just brings it home, if you know what I mean?"

Monkey turned to face his friend. He placed a comforting paw on Bernard's shoulder. "We need to get things moving, old chap. We don't have much time."

“Tell me you can do something to change it, Monkey? Tell me it doesn't have to be this way?"

“For the sake of the whole world, I do hope so,” sighed the little sock puppet.

Bernard sighed. "Please, tell Kieran nothing of what we have read. It is better that he knows nothing. You know how he fusses so!”

“I’ll keep quiet,” vowed Monkey, “I promise you, I will do everything I can to sort things.”

Bernard shrugged his shoulders. “At least it will be quick,” he sighed, “I would hate to see all the suffering.”

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Monkey patted Bernard’s knee. “Come on, my friend,” he said, “let’s go. We have a world to try to save!”

“You’re right,” smiled Bernard, placing the Book of the Future in one of the pockets of his spacechair. “That should even things out. My chair was listing somewhat with the weight of the Yellow Pages in the other pocket! Climb aboard, Monkey!”

Monkey jumped onto Bernard’s shoulder.

“Towndale, this is Bernard van Bookshelf. Do you read me? Over!”

There was no reply. The steady hiss of dead air filled the room, like a radio that hadn’t been tuned in correctly. Bernard tapped his earpiece several times but the hiss just kept on hissing.

“Perhaps we’re out of range?” Monkey suggested, helpfully.

“No, we’re moving closer to Towndale. If anything, the signal would be stronger by now.”

“Then perhaps your radio is broken?”

“Evidently, Monkey. Although, you realise what this means? If we cannot get in contact with Towndale, we cannot get them to activate the metallic hood, nor can they fire the booster rockets. They have no control over the chair. I do believe we are trapped in here!” **** After several minutes of agonising silence, Monkey came up with a flash of inspiration. “We don’t need to be in contact with Towndale to get ourselves out of here! If we can manually operate the metallic hood, you will be protected from the 202

shards of ice from the comets tail!” He ran to the back of the space chair and examined the mechanism that operated the hood. “I reckon a couple of firm tugs and it should be released!” he called.

“Monkey,” called Bernard despondently, “you know that I hate to pour cold water over such a clever plan, but I really feel…”

“Bernard, old chap, I’m thinking! Please don’t interrupt while I am thinking! Whilst I admit that this scheme of yours has thus far been a resounding success and that you have the Book of the Future in your possession, thanks largely to my help and…”

“YOUR help?” interrupted Bernard, “since when did you decide to ever help me? Every single time I have tried to take over the world you have interfered and ridiculed me. When I tried to enslave all those evil library customers, those people who devastated and destroyed my stock, you interfered and ridiculed me. When I tried to take over the world by raising Ys and changing the entire global population from heterosexual to homosexual, you ridiculed me. Even now, now that I am trying to save the world and actually do some good for a change you are interfering and ridiculing me. Quite frankly, Monkey, I’ve had enough of you and your obnoxious ways. What gives you the right to speak to me in that tone of voice, I ask you?”

Monkey was aghast. He was more than aghast, he was flabbergasted. In fact, he might even have been spondyfoodled.

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“I… I had no idea you thought of me in that way, Bernard. Do you really think that I’m obnoxious?”

“But of course you are!” came Bernard’s magnanimous reply, “you are an obnoxious, selfcentred, self-opinionated, annoying piece of rag and you drive me crazy!”

“Me? Self-opinionated? Pah! Just because I know I am right and everyone else is stupid enough to not listen to me...”

“Yes you are, Monkey! You have to be at the centre of attention all the time. It has to be you that comes up with any ideas. You cannot take criticism, and even when you realise that you are wrong, you will not admit it.”

“I’m not listening to this,” said Monkey, placing his paws over his ears.

“You should be listening, you little moth-eaten knitted simian sock thing! It isn’t just me who has this opinion of you, you know? Zoltan, Anna, Raine… even your own brother thinks the same!”

“Blah blah blah blah… I’m not hearing you… blah blah blah…”

“Oh, don’t be so childish, you self-centred simian puppet! You may be one of the three wise monkeys, but you are definitely the most childish.

Even Kieran having one of his sulky girly moments over coffee cups not being placed on coasters is nowhere near as bad as you! Even Cressida is more grown up than you are!”

“Hark at the kettle calling the pot black!” sulked Monkey, “how many of your so-called friends would still be as close to you if it wasn’t for your continuous megalomaniac tendencies?”

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Bernard’s mouth fell open. “And what in Gods tights is that supposed to mean?” he barked.

“It means exactly what it says on the tin. Your ‘friends’ only tag along with you just in case you do manage to take over the world. I’m sure that you would reward their faithful support by letting them have a seat at the head table, as it were.”

“What are you implying, Monkey? Are you suggesting that my friends are merely hangers-on and that I am a soft target for them?”

“If the pink frilly hat fits,” snapped Monkey, “they are all laughing at you, Bernard. They are laughing at you and your rubbish attempts to take over the world. They feel sorry for you, you great stupid oaf, and the way that your plans always flop so spectacularly. To be perfectly honest, I can't understand why you don’t just give it up. You are a has-been, Bernard, a no-one. A useless pile of flesh and blood that couldn’t even organise a kids birthday party without someone being killed!”

“Monkey, that isn’t fair. You know that I had no control over that. It wasn’t my fault!”

Monkey bit his lip and swallowed hard. “No, you’re right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It just kind of slipped out. I’m just a bit frustrated, you know? I suppose you said all that in the heat of the moment too?”

Bernard smiled at Monkey. “No,” he replied coolly, “I meant every word. You really are an obnoxious, self-opinionated pain in the backside.”

“Oh really?” snapped Monkey, crossing his arms, “in that case, don’t even think about asking me to get us out of here because I just won't bother!”

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“Fine!” replied Bernard, “I wasn’t going to ask you anyway!”

“Good!” snapped Monkey, “fine then!”

“Fine then!” huffed Bernard.

They both sat cross-armed and turned their backs to each other.

After what seemed like forever but was in fact more like five minutes, Bernard finally broke the silence. “Look, Monkey, this is stupid. Dahut is on her way to destroy us and ultimately the world, yet all we are doing is sitting here, arguing among ourselves. We must put aside our differences and remember why we are here!”

Monkey sniffed haughtily and wiped his nose on his arm, much to Bernard’s disgust. Monkey smiled wryly. “You started it,” he muttered.

Bernard shot him a warning look but decided not to bite. “We have to come up with an idea of how to get out of here and fast!”

“Well, as I was saying before you so rudely interrupted,” began Monkey, smugly, “I can put the metallic hood over the chair manually and we will be out of this comet in next to no time.”

“And as I was about to say, before you got on your high horse, if you were to do that you would have failed to notice two fundamental flaws in your plan.”

Monkey sighed. “Go on then, Mr. I Know Better Than Everybody Else. Tell me what I have missed?”

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“Well,” smiled Bernard, warmly, “in case you hadn’t noticed, we have no power. Which means that we cannot just fly out of here.”

“Ah. Yes, you’re quite right. I hadn’t actually thought about that. What else have I forgotten?”

“If you were to operate the hood, you would have to do it from the back of the chair. Which, once the hood has been closed and sealed, roughly translates as ‘outside.’ Thereby rendering you stranded here.”

Monkey stared at Bernard for a few moments before having a flash of inspiration. “But that doesn’t matter! I am a sock puppet. By default, this means that oxygen is therefore not a prerequisite for my survival. I can close the hood and push you back out. I can follow you back to the Stiff Tulip and we can head for home!”

Bernard nodded his approval. "Fantastic plan.

Let’s do it!" He replaced his helmet. “Come on then, Monkey, get on with it!"

Monkey pulled at the hood and the mechanism sprang to life, locking into place with a comforting click. Monkey tapped on the hood and called “put it into second gear! Keep the clutch down and when we get enough speed up, release it quickly!”

Bernard tapped back to confirm his understanding.

Monkey pushed the chair as hard as he could and the space chair began moving forward. They gathered more speed and Monkey yelled to Bernard to lift the clutch. Bernard did as he was asked and the space chair made a promising chug… then silence.

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“Try again!” called Monkey, putting every last ounce of effort into pushing the chair. Again, the chair chugged a little as Bernard lifted the clutch until, to the delight of both Bernard and Monkey, the engines fired up and the space chair was back in business, cruising out of the head of the comet, being buffeted by the ice shards as it passed through the tail and back into the silence as it cleared the comet altogether.

Monkey found the effects of weightlessness very disorienting but soon realised that without the friction of air molecules to slow him down, one hefty leap should send him flying towards the Stiff Tulip as though he were a guided missile. He dived out of the comets head, noticing that the great ball of ice no longer seemed to be heading for earth, which therefore meant that Bernard’s plan had actually worked. He felt pleased with himself over having once again helped prevent a major catastrophe on the planet.

His good mood came to an abrupt end however, when something hard, sharp and very cold hit him on the head. He looked around and realised – he was passing through the tail of the comet. Monkey found himself under attack from hundreds of thousands of pieces of ice.

“Curse you, van Bookshelf!” he moaned, shaking his fist in fury, “you knew this would happen!”

From the relative comfort of his space chair, Bernard van Bookshelf broke into one of his famous fruity cackles as he watched Monkey in his rear-view mirror. “I knew that would happen!

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Let that be a lesson to you, you annoying piece of knitted rag!� he muttered to himself. **** The control room in Towndale had become frantic.

They had lost contact with the wheelchair, but knew that they had been given strict instructions not to let Kieran know if there were any complications. Bernard really didn't want to worry his spouse any more than was absolutely necessary. So when Zoltan's mobile phone rang, it was welcome relief for the lycra-clad superhero.

It was Hearno, who was desperate to talk to him alone.

"I have a plan, a way to get the Book of the Past out of Hades," Hearno whispered, as Zoltan fried a sausage in the library kitchen. "You won't like it though. And I cannot even guarantee it will work."

Zoltan sat to the table, serving Hearno his sausage. "Fill me in, little guy."

The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees as Hearno put on a serious face.

"I need to die." he said, coldly.

Zoltan did a double take. "You what? You need to die? What is this, some kind of suicide pact? Tell me you are joking?"

From the look on Hearno's face, it was obvious, even to Zoltan, that he wasn't joking. He was totally unjoking. On a jokingness scale, Hearno scored around minus thirty-seven.

"I need some money please," smiled the little sock puppet, do you have any change?"

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Zoltan frowned but dipped his hand is his pocket, taking out a handful of change and offered it to the monkey. Hearno examined the coins and selected four ten pence pieces.

"That's it? Forty pence? You sure you don't need more?"

"No, that will work just fine thanks." He found a small bag in one of the drawers in the kitchen and slipped the coins inside.

The two sat in silence for several minutes as Hearno ate his sausage, slowly, tasting every last morsel as if it were his last. Zoltan stared into the little guy's eyes. "You're scared," he said whispered.

"Too bloody right, I'm scared! I'm about to die, so that I can save the world. That's kind of a big thing, really. As far as big things are concerned, this is pretty big. And if by chance I don't make it back, I won't be able to help any more. Ever. That will be it for me, the end, the final, there will be no more."

Zoltan seemed to grasp the idea. Which was a minor miracle. However, he still needed enlightening about the plan.

"I need enlightening about the plan," he said.

Hearno nodded. "I thought you would say that, somehow. Let me enlighten you."

And so, the enlightening began. And was repeated for clarification. And once more for good luck.

Zoltan nodded, after the fourth enlightenment.

"Thanks for enlightening me, little guy, I think I got it now."

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"Thank goodness," said Hearno, "because I think I am enlightened out now."

And from the corner of the kitchen, within the deepest shadows, stepped two men. Two brothers caught the attention of Zoltan and Hearno. They sat to the table, smiling, even so far as smoozeling. Hearno sat bolt upright. "What are you two doing here?"

Hypnos leaned forward. "We came for enlightenment. You have done us a great favour.

By telling us your plan, we now know that it isn't you that needs to die." He took his horn from his side as Hearno watched. He poured a handful of sand into his hand and quick as a flash, blew it into Hearno's face. Immediately, the little sock puppet fell into a deep sleep. Zoltan ran to his little friend.

Hypnos smiled at Zoltan. "He will stay asleep now. It's a bit like sleeping beauty. The only way he will wake up is if I head back into the dream world and, as that is never going to happen, your little friend is finished."

Zoltan fumed and reached inside the pocket of his golden cape and grasped his magic wand that was actually a stick that he had found at the bottom of his garden many years earlier. With a deft flourish, he thrust the wand to within inches of Hypnos' face.

"I'll give you until I count to three to wake Hearno up before I zap you into eternity," he growled.

Hypnos smiled, defiantly. "This, I have to see," he teased.

"One..."

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The ancient Greek god folded his arms.

"Two..."

A raised eyebrow demonstrated that he was not intimidated in the slightest.

"Two and a half..."

Thanatos stepped forward. "Oh, for goodness sake!" He blew a handful of his own sand in the face of Zoltan and the lycra-clad superhero fell to the floor, as dead as a dead thing from the planet Dead.

"Was that wise?" asked Hypnos.

"Who cares? Our instructions were to keep the monkeys alive, not the big stupid oaf."

"How true. It seems then, we have completed half of our mission. All we need to do now is lure Monkey into the trap and the path will be clear for the Red Man to make his triumphant return.

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Twelve As he neared the safety of the Stiff Tulip, Bernard noticed something approaching him at high speed. At first he thought it might have been Monkey but he soon realised that the approaching object was far too big and moving far too fast to be the tiny sock puppet. This was a large, gleaming white and black rocket – a space shuttle.

The shuttle could easily be seen slowing down as it neared the space chair. Bernard’s first thoughts were to get back to Kieran as quickly as possible.

Unfortunately, as he opened the throttle on the booster rockets, the powerful engines stalled and he found himself without power once more, drifting slowly towards the large, pink rocket.

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Bernard tried the bump-start routine several times but was out of luck. Bizarrely, he realised that he had a rocket, had once owned a city in the middle of the sea - all he needed now was his own volcano and he could be a true Bond villain.

Less than a few hundred yards away, the shuttle came to a stop. Nervously he looked over to it, trying to peer through the blacked out windows but could see nothing. For several minutes, he drifted helplessly in space, watching the shuttle in anticipation. Finally he decided that he had seen enough and began wheeling the space chair manually, a task which had not been carried out for several years, Bernard having long since become accustomed to the luxury of electric motors for assistance. Of course, this had absolutely no effect whatsoever and only served to wear Bernard’s arms out.

He looked back over at the shuttle and was horrified to see that the cockpit doors were open and that the suited-up Dahut was heading towards him. He checked his rear-view mirror, hoping to see Monkey there but there was no sign of the sock puppet. He was beginning to wish he hadn’t left the little guy behind. Sure, Monkey was annoying but he would at least have known what to do in this situation.

His thoughts were disturbed by a metallic thud above his head. He checked the external cameras and saw that, to his horror, Dahut had reached him and was currently trying to prize the hood open.

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Without any real effort, Dahut tore the metal cover away and revealed the very nervous-looking Bernard van Bookshelf, who had been busily trying to find a place to hide. In a small wheelchair. In space. Before he even had a chance to blink, she plunged something into the chest panel of his space suit. In an uncharacteristically girly moment more suited to Kieran than to Bernard, he let out an ear-piercing scream. Shocked, Dahut moved backwards, waving her hands furiously in front of his face.

“Don’t do that!” she shouted, “I’ve only plugged in a communications cable between the two of us, for goodness sake!”

Bernard looked around his helmet in puzzlement.

Can you hear me?” he whispered.

“Of course I can!” snapped Dahut, obviously quite annoyed, “you almost deafened me then, you flaming idiot!”

“Terribly sorry,” said Bernard, apologetically, “I hadn’t realised…”

“No, of course. You weren’t to know,” said Dahut, slightly less agitated by now, “I imagine you would have expected me to just kill you?” she smiled. He couldn't see it, but he knew that Dahut's smile was more of a sneer. He was glad he didn't have to see it, as it would have made him very uneasy.

And, as she was wearing a full space suit, she had spared him the embarrassment of him having to look down her cleavage when she leaned forward.

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Bernard shrugged his shoulders. “Well, you do have something of a murderous reputation,” he muttered.

“Yes, I do, don’t I?” laughed Dahut with a certain self-satisfaction. “Anyway, I hear that you and your… friend got married and that you now fight for the other side?”

“We’ve always fought for the other side, dear.

That’s why we…”

“I meant for the forces of good, you silly fool, not that you’re gay. You’ve teamed up with Monkey and the goody-goody gang, haven’t you?”

“I have not! Monkey and I are definitely not a team! I merely wish to protect my daughter from harm. Any loving father would do the same. That’s why I needed to retrieve the book. I knew that the comet would return to its normal course if I could do this.”

“Ah yes, the book,” smiled Dahut, “if you wouldn’t mind just handing it to me without too much of a struggle? Killing so many people on board the space shuttle does tend to tire one somewhat.”

She felt a sharp tug behind her as the tether to the shuttle tightened. "Curse you, NASA, why did you have to make things so restrictive?"

"It's so you don't just drift off into space. With nothing to stop you, no resistance, you would just float around forever." Bernard paused for a moment while he tried to come up with a stalling tactic. “Ms. Gradlon, I would love to give this book to you. But, you see, there is a small matter that needs to be resolved first.”

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Dahut arched an eyebrow at Bernard’s bravery – or was it just stupidity? “Small matter, Meneer van Bookshelf? To what are you referring?”

“Please bear in mind my vocation, Ms. Gradlon. It is my duty as Towndale’s librarian to protect library stock to the utmost best of my ability. I also owe it to the author of this masterpiece in view of copyright law and royalty payments to…”

“What on earth are you talking about, you foolish man?”

“Well, you see, it’s this book. It is four hundred and sixty-two thousand years overdue. At a rate of forty pence a week late return fee. That means that the library is owed a shade over nine million pounds. I’m afraid that I can't let you take this book without first settling the account.”

“Why should I?” spat Dahut, defensively, “I didn’t even borrow the thing!”

“No, but your master did. I’m afraid that I cannot allow you to take this book Ms. Gradlon. Oh, by the way, we don’t take cheques. Cash only, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh for pity’s sake, just give me the book,” sneered Dahut.

“And what will you do with it?”

“The Red Man intends to write the destiny of the world into the end of the book and…”

“WHAT?!!” shouted Bernard, “he intends defacing library stock? I’m sorry but I simply cannot allow it!”

“Bernard, just hand me the book before I just kill you here and now!”

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Realising that he was running low on stalling tactics, he tried a different approach. “Oh… dear… I appear to have lost it… now, where did I put it…?”

Dahut sighed impatiently as Bernard fumbled around in the pockets of his space chair. His fingers touched a thick book and he remembered that he had placed a copy of the Towndale Yellow Pages there previously for ballast. He grabbed the telephone book and threw it with all his might away from Dahut.

“You foolish little man!” she sneered and unplugged the communicator as she began space walking away from Bernard to retrieve the book.

“Not as foolish as you’d like to think!” muttered Bernard as he turned his chair to face in Dahut’s direction. Dahut was going to be in for more than one surprise when she retrieved that book.

Her tether to the spacecraft meant that she could not catch up with the source of her frustration.

Without a thought for the consequences, she unhooked the cable and drifted out towards her prize.

Bernard lifted a flap in the armrest of his chair and inserted a key into a hidden lock. As he turned the key, a small red light came on, illuminating a panel that read ‘system armed.’ He lifted the flap in the other armrest and put his finger on the large red button concealed there.

Dahut caught up with the book and, realising that she had been tricked by Bernard, turned around in anger. As she did, Bernard pressed his big red button and two small but powerful missiles were 218

launched from the chair. Dahut’s eyes widened as she saw the missiles head straight for her. She put her hands in front of her face in what Bernard regarded as a childish form of defense, like the irrational fear that a hideous monster is lying under your bed, even though there is only a twoinch gap under there and you know that if you were to hide under the covers you would avoid being caught by the monster and survive until at least the next morning.

In fact, Dahut showed no fear whatsoever and hers was not a gesture pertaining to defense but to attack. Without effort, she emitted a wave of energy which deflected the missiles and diverted their path away from her. Bernard watched in horror as the two missiles fizzed out of control and struck the Stiff Tulip, one shattering the stained glass roof of the anteroom, the other piercing one of the fuel tanks, causing a huge explosion which ripped away the bottom half of Bernard’s rocket.

Pieces of burning shrapnel erupted from the rocket, flying like sharp bullets in every direction.

In a cruel twist of fate, Bernard was impaled in the chest by a large piece of metal, causing a huge gash to be torn out of both his spacesuit and his skin.

With sad eyes he looked across at the burning object of his creation and destruction. “I’m sorry, Kieran,” he whispered, clutching his chest. “I couldn’t help it. It had to be this way. The book said so.”

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On board the Stiff Tulip, Kieran had been watching the conversation between Bernard and Dahut and giggled to himself as he watched his spouse fool Dahut into chasing the telephone directory. The smile soon disappeared however as he helplessly watched the two missiles streak across the void of space towards him. He cringed as the first missile pierced the fuel tanks, the explosion causing the rocket to shake violently and sending Kieran sprawling onto his back. The second missile struck the side of the anteroom, causing the beautiful stained glass room to shatter into a billion tiny pieces, raining down on Kieran, cutting into his hands and face, ripping open his gold lame space suit, shredding his eyes and rendering him blind and bleeding profusely.

The very instant the glass shattered, automatic sensors caused a metal shield to replace the glass dome but this was never designed to be airtight and the precious oxygen within the rocket began seeping out into the blackness of space.

Bernard was acutely aware that Dahut was making her way back towards him but he was far too engrossed in watching the fate of Kieran and his mammoth pink rocket to care. Delirious with pain from the wound in his chest, he thought he could hear a voice calling his name. And as the voice grew louder, Bernard snapped back into cognition. “Hold on, Bernard old chap! I’m on my way!� came the unmistakable voice of Monkey, trying to make his way towards the space chair, moving his limbs 220

in what could only be described as a breast-stroke motion.

Immediately, Bernard had an idea. He began detaching one of the booster rockets from his chair.

“I saw everything,” said Monkey, as he reached Bernard, “I’m so sorry about Kieran.”

“It’s ok, Monkey. I’m sure Kieran will be fine. I think that the damage to the Stiff Tulip has been mainly superficial.”

Monkey looked at Bernard, knowing for a fact that the former Baron did not believe his own words.

“Yes, I guess you could be right,” lied the sock puppet, trying to put on a brave face, “but Dahut will soon be upon us and I'm sure she won’t be very pleased."

Dahut was now within ten yards of the space chair. Through her visor, Bernard could see that her face was one of pure evil and pure hatred and absolute anger and humiliation. He felt sure that this time Dahut would kill him instantly. Sure enough, she put her hand in front of her face and tiny specks of light appeared and began dancing around her fingers. As Bernard watched, the light grew stronger.

"Don't look at the light!" urged Monkey.

Dahut’s concentration was broken as another explosion ripped through the Stiff Tulip. She turned to watch as massive flames erupted from the reserve fuel tanks.

Seizing his chance, Bernard summoned his remaining strength, wrenched the powerful jet-

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powered motor from his space chair and tied it around Monkey’s back “Hey, what the…”

Monkey didn’t even have time to complete his sentence. Bernard shoved the Book of the Future into his flailing paws and switched the motor to overdrive. In a moment, the glove puppet was a mere speck in the distance.

Dahut glared archly at Bernard. He closed his eyes, Dahut was livid with rage and he was weakened by the puncture wound. He was no match for her. It was the end for him. She grabbed his shoulders firmly and then… she smiled.

“No,” she said, enigmatically, “I’m not going to kill you. I don’t need to.”

Bernard’s horrified face broke into a quizzical expression.

“Your ship is a wreck, Bernard and you yourself are slowly dying,” she continued matter-of-factly, “and much as it would give me great pleasure to slowly coax the life out of you, I have better things to do, like catch up with and destroy Monkey.

Besides, what you did all those years ago to held the Red Man deserves at least a little recognition, don’t you think?”

“F… forgive me, Dahut,” stuttered Bernard, “but if you let me go, won’t you be worried that I might come back?”

Dahut chuckled, “you’re braver than I thought to point that out explicitly, but somehow I think that I’m safe on that front.” She curled her lip in delicious anticipation and concluded, “You only live twice, Meneer van Bookshelf!”

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“Bet you’ve been wanting to say that for ages,” Bernard smiled weakly.

Dahut shrugged her shoulders good-naturedly and, grabbing hold of the handles on his space chair, gave him a hearty push towards the airlock on the Stiff Tulip.

“Bye, bye Baron,” she laughed, as she turned back towards the space shuttle. “My one and only good deed,” she mused, “Monkey will not be so fortunate.”

It was only with considerable difficulty that Bernard managed to extricate himself from the airlock. He could feel the blood trickling inside his suit and was thoroughly glad that he didn’t need to treat it. The sight of blood normally sent him into a dead faint and, if the exterior damage to the ship was anything to go by, he didn’t have the time to waste with a touch of the vapors. The frame of his space chair had been warped as a result of the explosions, of that he felt certain, because pushing himself without electrical assistance seemed a Herculean struggle.

Only when he reached the anteroom and felt himself fighting for breath did he realise that the state of the chair was the least of his worries.

Kieran was huddled into a ball, rocking back and forth and weeping pitifully to himself in the corner of the room. The very sound made his heart break.

“Ki, love, I’m back!”

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“Oh BERNIE,” gasped Kieran, “I... I’m in such terrible pain Bernie, and I can’t see. I was blinded by one of the explosions. I’m so scared.”

Bernard gently cradled his spouses face in his hands. Shards of glass had cut mercilessly into his face and what remained of his eyes swam in a sea of half-congealed blood and fluid.

Involuntarily, he let out a gasp of horror, realising with dreadful fatefulness that his vision in the waters of Ys had finally come to pass.

“What’s wrong, Bernie?” cried Kieran, desperately.

“Nothing, love, nothing,” he soothed, “my emotions got the better of me, I was just thinking how handsome you are, and how I never want to leave you ever again.”

“So did… did we win?” gasped Kieran.

“Oh yes, we won, Ki” Bernard replied, reassuringly, lightly smoothing Kieran’s blood matted hair, “we saved the world, rescued the book and Monkey is returning to earth with it, triumphant. Now let me give you something for your pain and then we’ll get you home and fixed up.”

“That’s good,” Kieran sighed, as Bernard reached for the morphine ampoules in his first-aid case, “because I want to go home, so we can be a family again.”

Bernard gently administered the drug. “Now, I’ll need to do a little bit more than click my heels together three times and say, ‘There’s no place like home’ to get us back,” he laughed, “but not

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much more. You stay still whilst I fire the re-entry rockets, love.”

Once Kieran’s breathing slowed and deepened, Bernard pushed himself with agonising slowness into the cockpit.

“Towndale, this is Stiff Tulip, please come in.”

“Bernard, we’ve been frantic waiting for you,” shouted Gerdi, her voice full of concern, “we’re monitoring your critical oxygen and power loss down here.”

“Yes,” agreed Bernard sadly, “that’d be right, I dare say.”

Gerdi sighed, resignedly, “what are your orders?”

Bernard wiped his brow, fever was taking hold from the blood-loss and he was rapidly getting weaker. He had to face facts.

“It’s time to place the contingency plans into effect, Gerdi. I hope you don’t mind?”

“Of course not Bernard. Let me assure you once again that Cressida will have a loving home with me and Ans. Your trust in us in well founded, my friend.”

Bernard gulped, finding it difficult to contain his emotions, “Please give her our love, Gerdi? You know yourself that this is going to be so difficult for her. God knows, we’d do anything to be back with her right now and for good.”

“I know,” said Gerdi quietly, her lip trembling.

Gerdi saluted to the monitor in her crisp, formal manner, then stepped away from the terminal.

“Now I need to speak to Raine for just a moment,” coughed Bernard.

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Raine looked puzzled. “Me? What can I do for you, Uncle Bernard?” asked the young man.

“You’ll know, when the time comes, love,” said Bernard, warmly, “but I have something to tell you, and it’s very important that you remember it, even if you don’t yet understand why.”

“Go on?” said Raine, furrowing his brow.

“Many years ago, when Ki was my servant and not my master, the master of my heart that is,” he added fondly, “anyway, back then we made a wish together on the library veranda one evening.

I remember it so well because it was the first time I realised that I really loved Ki. We made our wish on a falling star. Dear Ki thought it was terribly romantic, but you and I know that they’re not really falling stars, are they?”

“You’re right,” admitted Raine, scratching his head, “I don’t understand why you told me that, although it is a lovely story.”

“That’s okay Raine. You will understand only when the time comes. It’s been a privilege knowing you and my friends back at home. I’m sorry that our own wish couldn’t come true, but perhaps we’ll have better luck next time?”

“Next time?” asked Raine, puzzled.

After a pregnant pause, Gerdi tapped at her equipment. “Communication with the Stiff Tulip still established, but no response,” she confirmed.

Ruud turned to their heart-rate monitor, “These don’t look good,” he said nervously.

“They’re getting fainter, certainly,” agreed Gerdi.

The control room crew grew silent, watching the steady deterioration of their life-signs.

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**** “Ki?” “Yes, love?” yawned Kieran sleepily.

“How’s my special guy feeling?”

“So much better now thank you, Bernie, but I’m ever so tired.”

“I know, Ki, I know. I think we deserve a quick rest before we go home.”

Bernard dragged his heavy body from his smashed space chair onto the chaise-long. “Come lay with me, whilst we sleep?”

Kieran smiled and let himself be guided, clambering somewhat unsteadily onto his spouse.

Once Kieran was comfortable, snuggled into his arms, Bernard began, “Now let me tell you how it’s going to be when we get home. There’s going to a big heroes’ welcome for us, but we’ll send them all away as soon as we can, so we can bring Cressida back home.”

“Oh… yes,” drawled Kieran, as he slipped gently into hypoxic sleep, “that’s a dream I don’t want to wake up from.” His words died away to a whisper.

Tears streamed from Bernard’s eyes as he cradled his dead love. As he too began the steady descent from consciousness, his mind returned to a long-forgotten speech he had once made to Kieran and the headstrong Steve Swimmer, so many, many years ago. “There’s nothing to be afraid of… nothing at all,” he had said, “death gives meaning to our lives, it gives importance and value to time… we would find it hard to love without it.” Though it had been delivered so coldly back then, the sea of words seemed sublimely 227

soothing now as he descended into the surety of their prediction.

“I’ll be with you in a moment, sweetheart,” he choked, holding Kieran’s hand. Summoning the last dregs of his strength, Bernard van Bookshelf planted a final kiss on his spouse’s lips.

The platinum watch slipped from Kieran’s wrist and shattered.

In the Towndale library control room, Gerdi lowered the Dutch flag to half mast, the silence only pierced by the steady flat-line tone of the heart-rate monitor. Ruud fought back a few desperate sobs before surrendering to weeping.

The boiler-suited boys gradually snapped out of their reverie, just as their fathers had done when the Baron relinquished his psychic hold on them many years before, and morosely trooped out of the building.

Raine looked up, his eyes streaked with tears, “we can bring them back!” he exclaimed.

Anna put her arm around his shoulder, “No, Raine love, you know we can’t.”

Raine grew silent.

“Believe you me,” said Gerdi soberly, “they’re better off together now. They’ve both fought so hard all their lives, I think we should leave them to rest.” She turned to Ruud. “Will you be going home?” she asked.

“Yes, I think this dream is over,” sighed Ruud, “but perhaps there will be a little part of Towndale that is forever Holland.”

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Thirteen “I can’t believe it’s all over,” sighed Raine, “all the fighting, all the killing and for what? Dahut will have the Book of the Future, her space shuttle is currently hurtling back to Earth and if she does as she says, the explosion that will occur when she hits the ground will kill billions of people.”

“It’s worse than that,” sighed Anna, “according to Hearno, an explosion of such magnitude could offset the orbit of the earth, sending us closer to or further away from the sun. Anyone surviving the explosion would either be burnt to a crisp or frozen to death.” She shuddered at this thought, remembering Walt’s patented Baked Alaska trap.

That particular madman couldn’t possibly have imagined that the deaths he had planned for the 229

two monkeys and Zoltan was the same horrible death that he and the rest of the globe would now be facing.

Anna began walking around the computer terminals, turning each of them off as she did.

“Bernard did a good job here,” she smiled, “one of his hair-brained schemes finally worked!”

“Mum, what on earth are you doing?”

“Saving electricity,” she said, turning off one of the two huge visual displays. "And where is your father when we need him?"

“How about we save ourselves?” shouted Raine, “have you gone crazy, woman?”

Anna sat down, scratching her head. “I don’t understand, why would Dahut crash the space shuttle into the ground? If she did that, she would surely kill off most of the people that the Red Man wants to enslave. She would also destroy the Book of the Future, which would mean that the Red Man wouldn’t be able to enslave everyone anyway!”

Anna was about to turn off the last of the big displays when something caught her eye, making her smile. “Unless she didn’t have the Book of the Future? What if someone else had it and Dahut’s orders were to retrieve the book or destroy the world? What if…” she paused for dramatic effect, “what if this speck on the screen was Monkey with the book? After all, we have no idea what has happened to him. Perhaps somehow he is on his way home with the Book of the Future?”

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Gerdi stood stiffly to attention. “Then we have a job to do”, she declared authoritatively “We have a world to save!”

An abrupt knock at the library door interrupted her dramatic moment. Irritably she marched over and answered it.

“Commodore van de Tuin?”

“I am she,” declared Gerdi, “Do I know you?”

“An acquaintance only,” came the polite reply. “Do you remember seeing me at the Vondelpark battle?”

“Ah!” declared Gerdi, softening slightly, “I do hope you were able to clean up your sculpture? Do come in!”

Mark van Vastenhoven sloped shyly into the room, carrying an almighty lump of exquisitely carved log under his arm.

“So, why are you here, Mark?”

“Well, it’s somewhat delicate,” came the sheepish reply, “after the incident in the Vondelpark, Bernard made me promise to deliver this letter to Ruud should I hear of his… erm… demise. His voice trailed off respectfully as he could see the raw emotions still clear in the tearful face of his countrymen.

Ruud bowed slightly as he took the proffered note from Mark.

“You got here quickly,” said Raine, uncharacteristically impressed.

“Well,” replied Mark in a whisper, as Ruud reverentially opened the envelope, “I was already in England, having realised that the situation in

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London would have held me up had I waited any longer.”

“Situation in London?”

“Yes, some damn fool flooded the underground network there a couple of days ago, it’s complete chaos in the capital, apparently.”

“I don’t doubt it,” thought Anna, shaking her head and thinking back to the threats of yet another wheelchair-bound megalomaniac in the making.

Ruud cleared his throat and proceeded to read aloud: “Dear Ruud, If you have received this letter then I must assume that both Kieran and I have failed in our objective to make the world safe for our children. Whilst the battle will continue for as long as Monkey and his friends have the strength to resist, you must now leave them and return to your homeland.

Someone is needed to front the Ys Detergent campaign as “Clean up space as well as your clothes” will now be rather passé. The new slogan will be ‘Use Ys detergent, it would be Ruud not to…’ and Kieran and I are counting on you to make it a money-spinner for the Dutch government. I realise that you will be torn between staying in Towndale and returning, but I urge you with my last written words to take the advice of your friend and head the new campaign. Keep my daughter safe, Ruud. She is the most precious thing in the world to us. You can only do that from the Kingdom of the Netherlands.

Your late friends, 232

Bernard and Kieran van Bookshelf.”

Anna nodded sagely. “Bernard was right, Ruud.

Your place is back at home, keeping an eye out for Cressida.”

Ruud nodded. Overcome with emotion, he reverentially folded the precious note up and slipped it into his pocket.

“Tell Ans I love her,” said Gerdi, letting her professional naval façade slip for the briefest of moments.

“I will,” promised Ruud, “Take care, my friends,” he said sadly. “Are you coming too, Mark?”

“I’ve no orders one way or the other,” admitted Mark, “but under the circumstances I think I’d rather stay and use the life experience to complete this, my greatest work, my ‘magnum opus’” “Sinassapels are the only fruit?”

“Oh no, that one’s complete,” dismissed Mark, “No, this one will be entitled, “Falling Star,” in memory of our dearly departed friends.”

“That’s nice,” agreed Ruud, as he waved his final sad goodbyes.

Raine brought Mark up to speed with the events as the whole group strolled out into the streets of Towndale, which were eerily deserted.

“Where is everyone?” asked Mark.

“They all believe that the world is going to end.

The last thing they heard is that all the astronauts on board the shuttle, their only hope, have been murdered. For all they know, the comet is still on 233

its way to destroy half of the planet and Dahut is going to destroy the other half. I know where I’d be,” barked Gerdi.

Raine, who despite his appearances, demonstrated that his education had not been completely wasted, calculated that they had about eight hours until Monkey's return and that Dahut was probably another thirty minutes behind them.

“Then that means we have about eight hours to find the Red Man and get the Book of the Past from him. If we can combine the two books, we can destroy Dahut and the space shuttle by writing that she never existed!” he smiled.

“But where would we find the Red Man?” asked Anna.

“How about inside the cavern?” suggested Hearno.

They each agreed that this would be an excellent place to start looking. Anna and Mark volunteered to search the cavern whilst Gerdi and Raine went back to the library to monitor Monkey’s imminent arrival.

“Ok, you guys! You know the score,” announced Ivor Ash, the control room supervisor at Mission Control, Houston, “the space shuttle is on its way back to the Earth and should enter the atmosphere in a little over eight hours. You have to destroy that shuttle at all costs. And I mean at all costs!”

“Yes sir!” came the uniformed reply of twenty pilots, their planes being readied for an intercept and destroy mission, each laden with ten air to air 234

heat seeking missiles. Each pilot knew that ‘at all costs’ roughly translated to ‘if the missiles don’t get her, fly your goddamn planes into her!’ Each pilot knew that this was the last chance to save the world. After them, there would be no-one else and certainly no time left to come up with an alternative plan.

Inside the library, Raine and Gerdi fired up the computers once more.

“How is your maths?” Gerdi asked Raine.

“Dunno really. I’ve been doing maths at school but haven’t really taken much notice. It’s funny really, all that time I just wanted to leave school. Now I wish I was back there.”

“Can you calculate Monkey’s destination from the current course?”

“I’ll try,” said Raine, “there are a lot of variables to consider – the forces of gravity, wind speed, angle of descent…”

“Just… try!” said Gerdi though her teeth, trying not to lose her temper.

Raine nodded, smiling. Gerdi thought how much Raine had changed and how proud his parents would be of him. Since his stay with Bernard and Kieran he had learned many things, including tolerance, sensitivity, cleanliness and dress sense. He had certainly become much more reliable and responsible. Perhaps more young tearaways should spend some time at Towndale library? Ironically, this is exactly what Bernard had in mind all those years ago - although holding the

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children against their will was a definite faux-pas these days.

Raine was closely watching the big display and at the speck on the screen that everyone was hoping would be Monkey and at the second, much larger mark which was most definitely Dahut in her space shuttle. One of the many television channels was still broadcasting live pictures from on board the space shuttle and Gerdi was transfixed by the pictures of Dahut, most definitely Public Enemy number one. She curled her lip up at the picture of Dahut and hoped that one day she would get to meet with this woman so that she might teach her a lesson.

She tried to look around the cockpit of the shuttle to see if there was any sign of the Book of the Future but it didn’t appear to be there, further fuelling the hopes that Monkey had the book. As if on cue, Dahut waked over to the video link and stared into the camera.

“Good day to you all,” she sneered, “I do hope that your last day on Earth has been a fun one.

You may or may not be pleased to know that you are no longer about to be destroyed by a huge comet as its path appears to have altered, sending the comet back into a harmless orbit.

However this does not alter the fact that my space shuttle is on its way back to Earth armed with some hefty explosives, so I would suggest that you spend the next hours being nice to each other.”

Gerdi spat at the screen. “Don’t expect us to be nice to you, crazy woman!” she screamed.

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“Oh yes, while I remember,” added Dahut, “I am about to take possession of an ancient book which will give me the power to enslave you all.

Anyone unfortunate enough to survive the impact will serve my master and I for eternity! Sleep well!”

“Five minutes with her, that’s all I want!” spat Gerdi.

Raine placed his hands on Gerdi’s shoulders and led her away from the screens. “You’ll get your chance soon,” he said calmly. He led her over to the big display and watched the tiny speck making slow progress towards the Earth.

“Hang on in there, little guy!” she muttered under her breath. **** Anna felt more nervous about being in the underground cavern than she had the first time she were down there. This time, she and Mark had come armed with a series of sharp knives, supplies of sandwiches and industrial strength slug pellets, just in case they were to run into the giant slime bags again. As they both reached the bottom of the rusty ladder they looked nervously around themselves as quietly as possible, listening for any sign of the giant creatures.

After turning right at the end of the corridor, they seemed to walk forever before they came upon the hole they had made earlier when the gang had fallen through the floor. There was still no sign of the slugs and the two felt strangely disappointed that they had not confronted the hideous creatures.

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They lowered themselves through the hole in the floor and into the hidden cavern where they had earlier encountered Dahut and the Red Man. Many of the torches that had previously lit the room had simply flickered and burned themselves out although a few were still burning, casting long, lonely shadows over the ceiling and walls.

“I felt sure we would find him here,” whispered Mark, “I can't think of anywhere else that he would be able to hide the book.”

“I agree,” said Anna, “although this would also be the first place he would expect us to look.”

“Exactly!” said Mark, in a flash of inspiration, “we would expect to find him here, and he knows that we would. So, because this would be such an obvious place to look, we wouldn’t think the Red Man would be stupid enough to hide here, knowing that he isn’t that stupid. Therefore we wouldn’t bother looking here. Which means that he would hide here believing that we would expect him not to hide here.”

Anna looked at the slightly crazed man, a confused expression on her face. “Run that past me again?”

“He said that I would come here because you would expect me not to,” came the unmistakable voice of the Red Man, booming down the staircase.

“And I was right!” announced Mark, proudly.

“But what if I expected you to think that I would come here believing that I wouldn’t be stupid enough to come back?” challenged the Red Man.

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“Then you wouldn’t have been here now, because I would have expected you to expect us to believe you were stupid enough to come back here and so we would still have come here knowing that you would have expected us not to believe you would come back.”

Anna looked at Mark and shrugged her shoulders.

“So let me get this straight,” said the Red Man, “you knew I would come back here because I thought that you believed I wouldn’t because it would have been too obvious, thereby making this a perfect hiding place?”

“That’s about right, yes,” sniffed Mark, smugly.

“So it didn’t have anything to do with the fact that you couldn’t think of anywhere else to look for me?”

“Well… err…”

“You see, little man, I knew that you thought I would come back here believing that you thought I expected you not to come here because it was too obvious. I knew you would come here because it is the only place you could possibly think of looking.”

“So this was all a trap?” asked Mark.

The Red Man nodded.

“Damn!” cursed Mark, “if only we had thought this was too obvious and gone elsewhere!”

“If indeed,” smiled the Red Man, “now if you would be so kind as to die quietly, I can get on with taking over the world in peace.” He fired a bolt of energy at Mark but the man dived out of the way, avoiding the shot as he rolled to the wall of the cavern.

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“You move well for one so unfit,” laughed the Red Man, “Let us see if that was a lucky break or whether you are as agile as you think!” He fired another shot at Mark, this time dodging the shot by diving to the floor watching as the shot cleared his head by several inches.

“Ha,” Mark laughed, “you’re not such a good shot, are you? You missed me, you great red moron!”

“Oh, I think not, my friend!” smiled the Red Man. Mark looked up, just in time to see one of the burning torches fall from above him, smacking him on the head and rendering him unconscious. The fire from the torch spread along the ground around his prostate body as the Red Man roared with laughter. "In the immortal words of an old British rock band; another one bites the dust."

“How could you!” challenged Anna, tearfully, "he hasn't done anything to you, you don't even know him!"

“Oh, spare me the waterworks!” said the Red Man dismissively, “I didn’t see you shed a tear over your husband."

Anna fell silent. "What do you mean? Do you know where my husband is? What have you done to him?"

Without a word, the Red Man stepped to one side, revealing the figure of a man kneeling beside the River Styx, his head bowed as though he were deep in prayer. From the golden cape and red spray-painted wellington boots, she could tell that it was Zoltan. She ran towards her husband, bumping into the Red Man as she passed. She called his name several times, but he didn't reply.

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He didn't respond whatsoever. And when she reached the side of the river, standing beside her husband, he did not acknowledge her presence.

Instead, he simply knelt silently beside the river, head bowed. She reached out to tap him on the shoulder, but her hand simply passed right through him.

"Well, that wasn't supposed to happen," she muttered. The Red Man stood beside her, chuckling quietly to himself.

"At least you get to see him before he leaves," he smoozeled.

Anna turned to face her tormentor. "What have you done to him?" she growled.

He threw his head backwards and let out a deep, booming laugh. "My dear, for once, this is not of my doing. This was, however, the work of a friend of mine, I will admit."

Tears of frustration filled her eyes. "Why isn't he speaking to me? Is he some kind of hologram?

Where is my husband?"

He leaned forward and whispered in her ear. "He is dead. This is your husband’s soul. And in just a few moments, his soul will pass into Hades and be mine forever."

And sure enough, as Anna watched in horror, a great fog descended on the surface of the river.

Great tendrils of mist reached out in all directions as the smoky mass billowed towards the shoreline. And through the fog, Anna could see the outline of a small boat heading towards her, the silhouette of a man standing within, steering the craft with a long pole. She tried to grab her 241

husband’s shadow of his former self but it was of no substance and she may as well have tried knitting fog. Which was, of course, in abundance.

The boat reached the shore and the man stepped out, tying the craft to a small jetty that Anna had not noticed before. He walked over to Zoltan’s soul and knelt in front of it.

"I hadn't been expecting you," he said, "I am normally forewarned of such arrivals as yours.

However, I trust you have the fee for the crossing?"

Zoltan raised his head. "I do," he muttered. Anna stepped back involuntarily, her husband’s voice had taken on a strange sound, metallic and distant.

She called his name, but still he didn't hear.

Hysterical, she sank to her knees, tears streaming down her face as she called out Zoltan’s name, over and over again.

Zoltan reached into his golden cape and produced two coins. He handed them over to the man who examined them closely. "These will do just nicely, thank you."

Anna shouted out to the man. "Leave my husband alone! Who are you?"

Unlike Zoltan, the man could indeed see Anna. He turned to her and smiled. Anna felt immediately afraid of him, his deep set eyes glowed like an angry fire, his long, grey, unkempt beard blowing around him wildly, as by now a strong wind had developed.

"Dear child, you should not be down here. You must go back."

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Anna got to her feet once more and stormed over to the old man. "I asked you a question. Who are you?"

Another smile from the man. "I am Charon. I am the ferryman of Hades. I am here to take this soul to the Underworld."

Anna was about to answer back, when she noticed that Zoltan had already climbed aboard the boat. "Zoltan! Get out of there! You must not get in the boat!"

Charon shook his head sadly. "You must go back.

He is lost to you now." He placed a comforting hand on Anna's shoulder, causing her to collapse in a heap beside the river.

The Red Man laughed. He had in fact only gone down to the cavern to hide, knowing that it would have been the obvious place to look and therefore nobody would consider going there, believing that the Red Man would not have been so foolish. His peace had been disturbed when the goody-goody gang hadn’t thought things through properly.

And when Anna finally came to, the fog had lifted, the boat had disappeared, as had Charon, the Red Man and Zoltan. She was helped to her feet by the ever helpful Mark van Vastenhoven, seemingly not dead, not burned and very much conscious once more. "We have to get back," he said.

Anna stared sadly over the expanse of water with no sight of her husband or his soul. Silently she turned her back on Hades and began to make her slow walk home.

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Fourteen Silence fell over the library as the time passed by.

Raine decided it was up to him to make polite conversation. “Mum and dad have been gone for a long time,” he offered, “Should I see where they are?” Gerdi nodded absently as she pored over the predictions Raine had given as Monkey’s landing site. It appeared as though, given the correct conditions, Monkey would land somewhere near Soldiers Field, a little more than a mile from the library.

Raine sent his mother a text message and hoped she would understand the jargon. Where r u, fone asap. R. Several minutes later, Raine's mobile phone bleeped to announce the arrival of a text

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message. He read it aloud. Trapped in cavern.

Bring rope and torches. And cakes. Hurry.”

Raine scratched his head. “Cakes?” he asked, “why?”

“Perhaps they are hungry…” mused Gerdi.

Finding the supplies they needed was not difficult.

Raine had spent enough time in the library to get to know the place really well and knew the whereabouts of everything. Finding the trapdoor among the rhododendrons was a little more challenging but Gerdi soon noticed it and together they were soon at the bottom of the ladder. They had all heard about the giant slugs and none were looking forward to bumping into any of the hideous creatures.

They reached the end of the corridor and turned to the right, jogging along the corridor until they came to a large hole in the floor. Standing as close to the edge of the hole as he dare, Raine peered into the hole and was relieved to see Anna and Mark standing there, looking up at him. It appeared as though they were a little over fifteen feet below him.

Raine tied one end of the rope around his waist and secured the end to a sturdy rock beside him.

He lowered the other end into the hole. Mark offered the rope to Anna first but she refused. “If you go up there first, you can help the others pull me up,” she suggested. Mark protested briefly but she refused, he subsequently had to reluctantly agree and tied the rope tightly around his waist.

Raine began walking backwards, pulling Mark slowly into the air. Gerdi lay on her stomach and 245

reached into the hole for his hand. As soon as she grabbed his wrist she quickly pulled him clear of the hole. Being a rather butch Commodore in the Dutch Navy certainly had its advantages, there was definitely no need for Gerdi to join a local gym.

Mark shook hands warmly with Raine and Gerdi.

He was about to start untying the rope when a chilling sound caused everyone to descend into an eerie silence.

A clicking noise. One which Anna could distinctly remember from the last time she had visited the cavern. It was quite certainly the giant slugs.

Raine nervously shone the torch up and down the corridor where they were currently sitting ducks but there was no sign of the creatures.

Suddenly, from within the hole, Anna let out an ear-splitting scream. “They’re here!” she sobbed, “oh my God, they’re here!”

Gerdi peered over the edge of the hole to see dozens of giant slugs heading towards Anna at frightening speed. She looked back at Mark, who was busily trying to untie the rope but in his panic he was proving slightly less than useless. “Typical man,” thought Gerdi, as she ran over to him. She took one of the sharp knives from her pocket and cut the rope in half, leaving him to struggle to release himself. She dropped the free end of the rope into the hole. Of course, it was now too short.

Muttering obscenities under her breath, she ran over to Raine and cut his backpack from his shoulders. She dropped the bag into the hole, climbed over the edge of the hole and dropped 246

into the cavern below before anyone had a chance to question her actions.

Anna stared at Gerdi in surprise. “What are you doing?” she asked, but got no response from the Dutch Naval Commodore. Instead, Gerdi ripped open the backpack and began throwing the selection of cakes towards the giant slugs.

“This should distract them for a little while,” she said. Anna realised what Gerdi was doing and followed her lead, distributing the cakes as evenly and as fairly as possible, given the circumstances.

She tutted when she realised that some jam from one of the donuts had dropped on the floor and was about to bend down to clear it up when Gerdi stared at her angrily. She lifted Anna onto her shoulders. “Stand up!!” she commanded.

“But…” began Anna.

“Just do it, woman!” screamed Gerdi. Anna did as she was ordered. “Now, grab the rope!” yelled Gerdi, beads of sweat beginning to trickle down her face.

The rope was swinging in front of Anna’s face and she needed several attempts to catch the thing.

As soon as she reached it, she wrapped it firmly around her wrists. The instant she was secure, Raine and Mark hauled her up through the hole.

The rope was again lowered into the hole for Gerdi to reach. It was well over three feet beyond her reach but Gerdi tried to jump for it, without success. After trying several times she had to admit defeat as she began to tire.

The slugs, meanwhile, had devoured the last of their treat of cakes and resumed their advances 247

towards Gerdi. She took the sharp knife from her pocket and began thrashing wildly at them, slicing off antennae and stabbing the creatures in their heads, eyes and any other parts of their bodies that she could reach.

Raine pleaded with Gerdi to keep trying to get the rope. They had managed to squeeze an extra couple of inches out of it but it was still well beyond her reach. Gerdi was either deaf to their pleas or was simply ignoring them anyway.

Raine had a flash of inspiration. “Tie the rope around my feet and lower me into the hole head first, he called, “I can grab her hands and you can pull us both up!”

Hesitantly, Mark and Anna agreed. They each took hold of the rope and lowered the teenager into the hole.

“Gerdi!” called Raine, “give me your hands!” Gerdi looked up and smiled at the boy, taking hold of his hands.

Anna and Mark put all their efforts into pulling on the rope but struggled to lift the two friends. They paused for a break which left the rescue operation dangling precariously a few feet above the swarming crowd of hungry giant slugs.

Raine himself was struggling to hold Gerdi. The combination of dangling upside down with the blood rushing to his head, the weight of Gerdi practically tearing his arms from their sockets and the sickening sight of the slugs slithering about below him made him feel very light-headed and he felt his grip loosen. His whole body was shaking but he knew that he couldn’t let go.

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Gerdi too was feeling the strain. Her entire body was weak from battling the beasts. She looked up into Raine's eyes and saw the painful expression on his face. “Let me go,” she whispered, smiling.

“Not a chance,” growled Raine, “I’m getting us both out of here!”

“Don’t worry about me. Save yourself and the rest of the world. Do it for me!”

Raine shook his head in frustration, gritting his teeth. “I won't let you go, Gerdi!” he cried, tears welling in his eyes from both pain and emotion.

“Please Raine!” begged Gerdi, “I need you to let me go! I need you to tell Ans that I love her.

Please do that for me?”

Raine was torn. He knew that if he let Gerdi go, she would certainly be killed by the giant slugs but if he didn’t, he would soon tire with the weight or pass out from being held upside down. His mother and Mark were struggling to pull him up.

“Please Gerdi, hold on!” pleaded Raine, “I love you too, you’re one of my best friends!”

“Then do this for me,” she said, “let me go, then save the world. Don’t let me die in vain.”

Raine still refused to let go so Gerdi decided to take matters into her own hands and squeezed Raine's fingers until the boy could not bear the pain any longer. With an agonising cry he finally lost his grip of Gerdi’s hand and watched his friend fall to the floor of the cavern, instantly covered and devoured by dozens of giant slugs.

Raine turned away in horror as he was hauled back up through the hole.

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As they emerged through the trapdoor and into the rhododendron bushes, Anna looked at her son’s tear-streaked face and tried to comfort him.

Raine was absolutely distraught. He blamed himself for Gerdi’s death. He felt that had he been a little fitter he would have been able to hold on long enough for her to be dragged clear of the hole. The fact that Mark and Anna could not have dragged her out of the hole was insignificant, Raine thought.

“It isn’t your fault,” soothed Mark, “I have it on very good authority that she had a very stubborn streak.”

“That doesn’t help though,” sulked Raine, “I had her in my hands but I let her slip away. That makes me a murderer.”

“No, my friend, it makes you a hero. Not many people would have done what you did. I know I wouldn’t. If I had been in your situation, I would have run the other way.”

“If only I could have held on. I might have been able to save her. Mark, why is it that all my friends are taken from me? Gerdi, Bernard, Kieran, Speakno - I don't even know where Dad and Hearno are. Everyone I get close to seems to die in a horrible death. I’m dangerous to know. Before long, even you will be taken from me in some bizarre and gory death, I feel sure of it.”

Mark placed a comforting hand on Raine’s shoulder. “I don’t fear death, Raine. I’ve seen too much pain in my lifetime. I’ve spent more than a few months in soggy fields with only a tree-stump for company, for goodness sake. Death to me 250

seems to be a relief from the terrible state that this world has become. Death brings meaning to our lives. It brings importance and value to time. Time would become meaningless if there were too much of it.”

Raine looked at Mark. “My karate master has told me that before. You sounded just like him!”

“He must be a wise man!” laughed Mark, “perhaps you should seek his advice for inspiration. He will know what guidance to give you.” **** Raine walked into the darkened room at the gym to find his karate master meditating in the lotus position.

“Come in, my child,” said the master, without once opening his eyes.

“Master, how could you have known it was me?”

“I sense you, Raine. I sense your troubles. Tell me your troubles, Raine.”

Raine paused, realising how ridiculous this was all going to sound, searching within himself for a way to explain everything in a more plausible way.

“Well, master, for the past few weeks I have done as you suggested and spent my time overcoming the fears of the lifestyle of Uncle Bernard and Auntie Kieran. I have spent much time in their company and have learned much about myself.”

“Do you fear yourself?” offered the master.

“Not exactly. I fear for everyone I know. I am of the opinion that I am cursed. Every time I get close to someone, they die.”

The karate master opened one eye. “Explain your opinions, my child.”

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Raine took a deep breath. “All my friends have died. Uncle Bernard, Auntie Kieran, the monkeys, Gerdi. I feel…”

“Scared? Your fears are unfounded. It is not you that is cursed, but blessed. You are the chosen one, Raine. You must use your fear and anger as your weapon, not your shield. You have faced many fears and there are many more to come.”

“But sir, I do not wish to face any more fears.”

“We all have to do things we did not want to do. It is not a question of whether you want to face these fears, but whether you have to. I realise that the situation you are in will be beyond normal comprehension. Nobody else will have to face the decisions you have to make and have such a lot riding on them. The only guidance I can give you is to go with your heart, not with your head.”

“And what would your decision be if you were faced with the same responsibilities?” asked Raine.

The master closed his eyes. “If I were the only person who could save the world, I would take up the challenge and try my best. If I succeeded, I would be a hero. If I failed, at least I had tried.

After all, if you were to fail, my child, who would be able to point the finger of blame at you?”

Raine was about to comment further but sensed that his conversation with the master had once again come to an abrupt end. Raine bowed ceremoniously and left the gym.

The karate master was about to resume his meditation when he suddenly became aware of a

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presence in the room. “He will defeat you again,” he said, without opening his eyes.

“Not this time,” came the booming voice of the Red Man, “this time the victory will be mine.”

“He will find the books and destroy you forever,” said the master, quite without emotion, “I have given him the guidance he needs to take on the challenge. Once again, you are too late.”

“I doubt that, Master Swimmer. I already have one of the books locked safely in my lair and the second will be brought to me by my servant of darkness very soon. This time, Raine will not beat me.”

The karate master opened his eyes. “As ever, I have faith in the child. He will defeat you.”

The Red Man sat in Steve's chair behind his desk.

"Let me tell you why that will not happen. Firstly, the Earth will soon be destroyed when the spacecraft smashes into the ground. Assuming that things do no go to plan, I have a backup plan.

I will reunite the two ancient books and just write the destruction of the world in there. My plan is foolproof."

Steve opened an eye. "Foolproof? Do you believe that?"

The Red Man smirked. "What could possibly go wrong?" He walked over to one of the walls of the gym and marveled at the array of weapons hanging there. He selected one of the Samurai swords and walked back over to the master.

“They say that these swords are so sharp that they can take off a man’s head with one stroke.”

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Without another word, Steve Swimmer leaned forward, bowing his head. The Red Man stood over him, raising the sword high above his head.

"Of course, you are forgetting one small detail," smiled Steve.

"Oh yes? Do tell."

"I would love to tell you. However, it would ruin the surprise. And while you carry on, blissfully unaware of the consequences of your slovenly planning, you leave your Achilles heel exposed.

That will be your downfall, Red Man. And I will be there to witness the day you fail."

The Red Man rubbed his chin in deep thought.

Perhaps Steve was telling the truth. Or maybe he was stalling, to save his pathetic skin. Either way, now was not the time to spend chatting idly with the karate master. He needed to prepare himself for the imminent destruction of the world. He dropped the sword and bowed in mock ceremony to the karate master before leaving the office, slamming the door behind him in a fit of pique. **** Zoltan wandered around the grounds of Hades. It wasn't exactly as he had imagined. He was expecting tortured souls being prodded with hot pokers, having to listen to Celine Dion on repeat but was somewhat comforted to find that particular torture was beyond the realms of even the Red Mans evil.

Before too long, he found what he was looking for.

Ahead of him stood the imposing fortress that 254

Satan himself liked to call home. He strode forward and through the massive wooden doors that stood open before him. He found himself inside a courtyard, every inch of the walls lined with human skulls; jaws open in an eternal scream, all manner of indescribable creatures crawling between the eye sockets and through the noiseless screams. Beneath the ground he could hear the roar of fearsome unseen creatures as they tore into the flesh of the damned, tearing the unfortunates limb from limb. And the unmistakable strain of "My Heart Will Go On." He shivered involuntarily.

Before him stood a man dressed in a pink lycra one-piece with a large letter P emblazoned on his chest.

"Captain Pow, it is so good to see you again!" he whispered.

The Captain shook his hand warmly. The two had become friends many years ago after they had met at a superhero conference in Paris. Their friendship had come to an abrupt end however, when Pow had fallen to his death from the top of the Eiffel Tower.

"We don't have much time," whispered Pow, "the Red Man could return at any moment and if he finds us in here, he will surely make our afterlives a living Hell."

Zoltan nodded and followed his friend along a series of putrid corridors until they eventually reached a huge room, devoid of any decor but for one glass cabinet standing in the centre of the stone floor.

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"There it is," whispered Captain Pow, "I believe that is what you need?"

Zoltan approached the cabinet cautiously. He looked around himself to make sure nobody was watching. There, taking pride of place in the cabinet, stood a magnificent old book, the cover inscribed with the words "Book of the Past." He reached out to retrieve the book, feeling an energy surge through him as his fingers touched the leather cover.

And from behind a door, hitherto unseen by either Zoltan or the Captain, stepped a woman. "And what, pray tell, might you be doing?" she mused, almost causing Zoltan to drop the ancient volume.

Zoltan bowed to the woman. "Ah. It seems we were destined to meet after all."

Captain Pow cringed. "Do you two know each other?" he whispered.

Zoltan shrugged. "Never met each other before in our lives, but I believe her to be.."

"Persephone," said the woman, holding out her hand in a fashion that suggested Zoltan should kiss it, "Queen of the Underworld. And who might you be?"

Zoltan obliged with the hand kissing. "Forgive me, your greatness, I am Zoltan the Magnificent, sent from the world of men to retrieve this book."

"On whose authority?"

Zoltan looked nervously at Captain Pow. This was either going to work like a charm, or be an utter failure resulting in eternal damnation.

"On the authority of Monkey, the sock puppet."

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Persephone looked long and hard at Zoltan. Then she looked even longer and harder. Finally she looked longest and harderest of all before saying "and how is the tatty little guy?"

Zoltan and the Captain breathed a collective sigh of relief. "Not great, your awesomeness. He is trying to retrieve the Book of the Future to reunite it with this book, before your husband can do the same."

Persephone nodded. "The Red Man had been telling me of his plans. I must say, I thoroughly disapprove of them. I may be queen of the Underworld but it isn't the career path I had in mind. I wanted to be a dance teacher. Of course, my husband ridiculed me and forced me to change my choices. I hate him for that."

Zoltan nodded in agreement. "My wife disapproves of me following a career as a superhero. It's rather annoying sometimes."

Captain Pow looked at Zoltan and made a face that suggested they should hurry up. Or perhaps it was constipation, it was difficult to distinguish between emotions on the faces of the dead.

"Forgive me, you incredibleness, but I must leave, if I am to return with this Book to the world of men."

Persephone smiled. "You forget though, Zoltan, that you are dead. There is only one way that you can return from the dead, and that is if I give you permission to do so. And even then, you would have to pay the ferryman of Hades to carry you back across the Styx in his little boat, something

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which fear my husband has warned him against doing."

Zoltan stared into her eyes. She was a good woman at heart. He remembered what Hearno had said about her, how she was only the queen of the Underworld because the Red Man had dragged her there, forcing her to become his wife.

She disliked her husband as much as Zoltan did.

"Please, Persephone. Please may I have your permission to leave Hades? I must save the world that you once called home."

She nodded, a look of sadness in her eyes. "Very well, Zoltan the Magnificent. You may return.

However, your friend must stay. I cannot allow the two of you to leave."

Captain Pow shrugged absently. "That's ok, I actually quite like Celine Dion," he said. **** Persephone led Zoltan back to the shores of the River Styx.

"How do you propose to get back over?" she asked.

Zoltan smiled. "I will swim."

"It’s a half mile wide at this point!"

He shrugged his shoulders. "I'm a strong swimmer," he replied.

"And what about the Book of the Past? It will be of little use if it were to get wet."

Zoltan removed his golden cape and wrapped it tightly around the precious book. "My cape was fashioned from a shower curtain, of course," he smiled.

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He thanked Persephone and gave the thumbs up to Captain Pow. "Before you go," whispered Persephone, "how well do you know your Greek mythology?"

"I know a little," smiled Zoltan, "why do you ask?"

"Are you aware of the properties of the water of the Styx?"

Zoltan wasn't sure what she meant, he wasn't aware that a river could own property. He was about to relay his thoughts when she spared him the embarrassment.

"Those who swim in the Styx will become immortal."

Zoltan’s mouth fell open. "Oh wow, you mean I will live forever if I swim over? How cool is that?"

He stepped into the waves, the water coming up to his knees.

"It may seem cool, but I wonder if you will feel the same when all around you have died and you are left to live an eternity on your own. I bet you will not find it cool then."

Zoltan thought for a moment, then breathed a heavy sigh. "That is a chance I have to take," he said, wading out into the water and beginning his long swim to the other side.

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Fifteen With a little over ninety minutes to go before Monkey was due to return with the Book of the Future, what was left of the team regrouped at the library. They sat in front of the big display, eagerly anticipating the return of the little sock puppet.

Raine had calculated and recalculated Monkey’s arrival every fifteen minutes, each time reaching the same conclusion – the little obnoxious sock puppet was going to land on Soldiers Field. The display continued to show the tiny speck presumed to be Monkey and the larger mark, most definitely Dahut in the space shuttle, close behind him.

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"I am glad that the little guy should soon be home, he might know what to do," sighed Raine, "but I can’t help but think that all his efforts will be in vain. Without the Book of the Past, what hope do we have? It is highly unlikely that the Red Man would simply hand the book over and no-one has any idea how to defeat him."

The display suddenly flashed into animation as a number of new dots appeared on the screen, heading in formation on an intercept course with the space shuttle. Mark and Raine got to their feet in excitement.

“What is that?” asked Raine, nervously.

“It looks like the Americans are here!” smiled Mark, “the cavalry have arrived!”

In that instant, the despair that had been clouding the room disappeared and a wave of renewed optimism flowed around them. If those American fighters could destroy Dahut, there was hope after all! **** “Red Leader to base,” called the pilot of the first plane, “we have the shuttle in our sights. Await your orders, General!”

Ivor Ash looked over to the General, a broad shouldered hulk of a man with a chiseled face and hooked nose. “Sir, what do you suggest?”

The General stepped forward. “Private Dancer, this is General Post-Office. Track the shuttle but do not attack. I repeat, do not attack!”

“Roger there, General Post-Office, that’s a big ten-four. Reading you loud and clear. Over!”

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The General turned to Ivor, who had a puzzled look on his face. “I’m hoping to make contact with this woman and bargain with her. If I can convince her to turn that shuttle around or something, perhaps we can avoid a conflict, any further bloodshed. Besides, she’s kinda cute, don’t you think?”

“Can't say I’ve noticed, Sir,” said Ivor, staring at the width of the Generals shoulders.

“General Post-Office, Sir!” said the disheveled scientist, “this woman is a cold-blooded killer, intent on destroying the world as we know it. What makes you think you can change her mind?”

“Son,” smiled the General, “she ain't seen the size of my payload yet!”

“Yes,” said Ivor, dreamily, “I imagine you have quite a large arsenal…”

“I don’t think that the size of your arsenal will be sufficient to sway her decision to destroy the world, sir,” continued the scientist.

“Nonsense man! No woman has ever been able to resist me!”

“I can well believe that,” quipped Ivor.

“Sir!” pleaded the scientist, “I think we should give the order to attack immediately. There isn’t much time left!”

He hated to be criticized, even more than he hated having an uneven spray tan. In this case, however, he had to concede defeat. “Oh, very well,” sighed the General, “give the order to attack in four groups of five.”

Ivor flounced up to the communications panel, aware that General Post-Office was watching his 262

every move. He smiled to himself before pressing a button to open a line to the fighters.

“Red Leader, this is base, do you read me? Over!”

“Loud and clear, sir. Over.”

“You are to attack and destroy the shuttle at all costs. Advance in waves of five. Over.”

“Roger, sir! Commencing attack run now.” **** The big display in Towndale library showed five of the new dots on the screen break formation as they headed towards the space shuttle. Mark and Raine had been carefully monitoring Monkey’s descent and had estimated his arrival time to be thirty minutes or so. Anna decided to make her way to Soldiers Field to meet him.

“How do you feel?” asked Mark.

“I’ve felt better,” smiled Raine, “but there is so much more to do. This is far from over. Besides, I had a word with my karate master and he gave me one of his vague inspirational talks. If he actually had made any sense, I imagine it would have been good advice. Listening to him when he gets going is like trying to read stereo instructions in Chinese.”

“Well, I guess if he told you not to give up, I should imagine that was a very good piece of advice,” nodded Mark eagerly.

Raine shrugged his shoulders. “I just would have preferred the weight of the world on someone else’s shoulders. Why did I have to be born into this family?”

Mark was about to say something more when something on the screen caught his eye. “Raine, 263

there were more planes than that a few moments ago, don’t you think?”

Their observations were correct. As Ivor Ash had left the communications channel open in order to enhance his broadcasting royalties, Dahut had been kept fully informed of all developments and had been prepared for the attack of the planes.

She had opened the cargo bay and manually fired missiles stored there at the attacking planes. After getting the hang of targeting missiles, she eventually wiped out the first three waves of planes, leaving only the huge bomb on board. As she watched the final wave of five come swooping towards her she reluctantly unfastened the straps that held the payload in place.

Briefly pausing to calculate her next move, she lifted the explosive device high above her head and, using her immense strength, threw it towards the incoming wave of assault planes. **** “Red Leader to base,” came the voice over the communications panel.

“Go ahead, Red Leader,” said General PostOffice, “do you have a status report?”

“Yes sir, it appears as though the pilot is using some sort of escape pod and has left the shuttle.

Most of our squadron have been destroyed.

Permission to destroy the escape pod, sir?”

“Permission granted, Red Leader. Give her everything you have!”

The five remaining planes flew in formation towards the large bomb that they had foolishly mistaken as an escape pod. They each flew on an 264

intercept course, fast and close, priming a powerful missile, targeted the ‘escape pod’ and fired.

An almighty explosion ensued. A huge ball of flame erupted from the bomb, devouring all but one of the planes and annihilating them instantly.

The one plane that survived spiraled out of the explosion like a phoenix. Battered and in flames, piloted by the leader of the group whose face was etched with grim determination, the plane swung around and pointed toward the shuttle. The pilot had one thought on his mind and that was to fly his plane into the flight deck of the shuttle, hopefully causing sufficient impact to destroy it and its psychopathic pilot.

Dahut watched in horror as the plane steadied itself and began to speed up on its final attack mission. She didn't have time to head back to the cockpit in order to outrun the plane.

“Red Leader to base,” came the crackly transmission.

“Go ahead, Red Leader,” said General PostOffice.

“Sir, the rest of the squadron have been destroyed. I believe that the space shuttle may have used up its entire offensive capabilities. I… I’m afraid that my plane has been severely damaged and will not survive the journey home.”

“What do you propose, Red Leader? I can ready another plane to meet up with you and bring you back home?”

“No need sir,” came the reply, “but I’d be grateful if you could do one thing for me?”

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“Just name it, Red Leader,” said the General, sadly.

“I’d be grateful if you could call my wife and tell her I love her?”

“Sure thing, son,” said the General, “tell Laura you love her. I’ll do it personally.”

“Good luck, sir!” croaked the pilot as he began the approach of the final part of his final flight. Which seemed to be lasting far longer than it should, in a vain attempt to build suspense.

Dahut watched in amazement as the burning wreckage of the plane headed towards her in a kamikaze run. She almost believed that she could hear the pilot screaming at her as he fought to keep the plane’s approach as level and as straight as possible, made all the more difficult by the fact that the pilot was slipping in and out of consciousness. She admired his bravery though, at least he was having a real go, which was more than most people had done in the past. Yet, despite the admiration she began to feel for the young man, she couldn’t help but laugh out loud when the burning fuselage finally ignited the fuel tanks and the plane disappeared in a ball of fire, destroying with it all hope of the people of Earth.

Dahut may not now be able to destroy half of the Earth, the comet had been deflected too, but there was no doubt that she would happily assist in the enslaving of absolutely everyone on the planet by using the Book of the Future as soon as she had caught up to that pesky sock puppet, Monkey.

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Raine and Mark ran to join Anna at Soldiers Field in anticipation of Monkey’s return.

“They didn’t make it,” said Raine, darkly, “she’s still coming. Do you have any suggestions?”

“I suggest that we don’t have much time,” said Mark, “we have to think up a way of dealing with the Book of the Past. Somehow or other, we have to get our hands on that thing.”

Raine wasn’t listening very closely to the conversation. He was more interested in a light in the sky above them which appeared to be glowing brighter with each passing moment. Excitedly, he jumped up and down, pointing the light out to the others.

“That has to be Monkey!” said Anna excitedly. Her excitement soon diminished however when she saw a second light appear, very definitely the space shuttle piloted by Dahut.

“She’s a lot closer than we thought,” groaned Raine, “We don’t have much time. If we don’t get the Book of the Past soon, it will all be over in an instant!”

“You will never be able to retrieve the Book of the Past,” came the chillingly familiar voice of the Red Man from behind them, "it remains in my fortress in the centre of Hades and the only way to retrieve it is for your soul to pass there. Even then, you would have to find a way to return, which would be impossible for you, especially now, as there is no more time left. The world is mine, dear friends."

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Instinctively the three stepped closer together, defending each other in a show of strength and defiance.

“Why are you doing this?” shouted Anna, “why now?”

The Red Man smiled. “it seemed like a good idea at the time,” he growled ominously, “besides, I had nothing better to do. Being the Lord of the Underworld has its moments but it can get very boring when business gets a little slow.”

Raine stepped to the front of the group. “Hey dude,” he called, “I think you and I need to have a chat. I think we could make a deal here. You have something that we want and we have something that you want. Let’s trade one for the other!”

The Red Man laughed loudly. “What could you possibly have that I might want? I mean, I presume you want the Book of the Past?”

Raine nodded. “We just want to save the people of the world. We have no quarrel with you. We don’t want to hurt you.”

Again, the Red Man laughed uncontrollably. “You have spirit, young man! I will give you that!” His face broke into a frown, “though I will ask again, what could you possibly have that I might want?”

“Me,” said Raine, calmly, “this is what all of this is about, isn’t it? You want me!”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Raine,” said the Red Man dismissively.

“You want my soul, right? Well, in return for the Book of the Past, you can have it.”

The Red Man frowned. “What kind of books have you been reading? I don’t do that “sell my soul” 268

bit. I never have. It’s one of those things that the press got a hold of and blew entirely out of proportion. I only ever bought someone’s soul once, and that was at a car boot sale in Rotherham one Sunday a few years back. I thought that it seemed a good idea at the time but I had nowhere to put it. They are not even solid, they cannot be used as ornaments or any such like. Utterly useless to me, I'm afraid. Anyway, I don’t think I’d want to buy anyone else’s soul, so what use would yours be to me?”

“But… but why do you keep trying to kill me then?” asked Raine, slightly confused by the Red Man’s answer.

“Well, I simply don’t like you,” said the Red Man, walking over to an abandoned combine harvester and sitting down on the threshing machine. “Tell you what though,” he said at length, “I will cut you a deal. You seem like a fairly decent person but you have a wickedly dark side. I like that. Why not come over to the side of evil and join me in my quest to rule the world? If you were to join me, I would give you the Book of the Past to use as your own and I would keep the Book of the Future. We could make global changes by simply joining both books. We can rule the world together. All it would take would be for you to carry out one simple, tiny task for me. What do you say?”

Raine stepped forward. “That seems like a tempting idea. What do I need to do?” he asked.

The Red Man stroked his chin. “Nothing too difficult. Merely kill your mother. Your parents 269

have been a thorn in my side for far too long now, as indeed they have been in yours. Remove your mother from the equation and you may have your book. You know where to find me.”

Before his eyes, Raine watched the Red Man dissolve into the ground.

“Raine!” called Anna, “you cannot bargain with him! He will take whatever he wants from you and destroy each and every one of us. Whatever you have agreed with him, don’t do it!”

Raine turned back to Anna. “Don’t worry, mum. I have everything under control. I know just what I have to do now,” he called, a strange glint in his eye. **** Mark looked up, the woolly figure of Monkey clearly in view. He removed his t-shirt and he and Anna stretched it between them. “I’ve seen firemen do this plenty of times,” he smiled as they repositioned themselves, ready to catch the sock puppet and his precious cargo. They could clearly hear Monkey’s screams as he fell to the ground.

They watched in amazement as he untied himself from the rocket pack. Suddenly, the powerful rocket seemed to pick up speed and spiraled towards Anna at a frightening pace.

Without hesitation, the new friend and ever-helpful Mark van Vastenhoven came to her help. Taking up his unfinished log sculpture, he dashed between Anna and the rocket, swinging the sculpture with all his might and striking the rocket pack high into the air. It went spinning into the

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sky, heading directly for the fast approaching space shuttle.

By the time Dahut had noticed the wildly spiraling, flailing rocket-pack rushing towards the cockpit, there was absolutely no room for maneuver. She braced herself, hoping against hope that the specially strengthened glass would survive the impact. This hope was soon to be dashed however. With a sickening crash, the entire mechanism penetrated the cab, impaling her chest with a disconnected fuel pipe. The lights flickered and then died around her as she slowly fought to draw the projectile from her body.

Somewhere in the distance of her consciousness, as it slipped to and fro, she could hear a mechanical voice counting down “4,3,2”… and then, to her utter amazement, a miniature Dutch flag jutted out of the mechanism on a spring.

Bringing herself round fully, she stared at it incredulously as an all-too familiar voice took over from the mechanical countdown.

“Thank you for purchasing an intergalactic megalomaniac product,” simpered Kieran’s voice shyly, “we trust that it has performed to your complete satisfaction. Regrettably if you can still hear this recording you are about to perish in a spectacular explosion, but…” the recording paused, before adding with warm reassurance, “please accept our heartfelt condolences. We look forward to being of service to you again in the next life.”

“NO!” screamed Dahut desperately, “Don’t you buggers try and get the better of…”

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Her plea was cut short by the huge explosion that ripped through the space shuttle, tearing the craft into thousands of tiny, burning pieces as Bernard’s sense of farseeing accurately saw the end of Dahut and her reign of terror.

Meanwhile, Monkey continued to fall to earth.

Mark once again took hold of his t-shirt as he and Anna braced themselves for the imminent impact.

They did several shufflings. They adjusted their position several times. They prepared themselves for the impact. They stood beneath the puppet and he landed squarely in the centre of the cloth.

Unfortunately for Monkey, he had been travelling at such a great speed that he tore straight through the shirt and crashed into the ground with a resounding thump.

A muffled groan could be heard from the sock puppet as he lay face down in the mud. Raine helped him up and brushed off as much of the mud as possible in the vain hope that the puppet wouldn’t be too upset. Incredibly, Monkey was smiling. Sure, he had just hit the ground at great speed and he was singed at the edges from skipping the atmosphere and he was covered in mud from head to toe but he was alive! Not only that, but he had the Book of the Future and Dahut was no longer a threat.

“I… I made it!” he laughed, “I don’t believe it!” He looked around. “Where is everyone? Zoltan?

Gerdi? Hearno? I thought they would have been here to welcome me home?”

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Mark hung his head. “Sorry, Monkey. They didn’t make it.”

“I’ve got some… really bad news,” said Anna, gravely.

“Yes, I know,” replied Monkey, in a matching sombre tone. “The van Bookshelf’s are no more either.”

“How could you know that?” gasped Zoltan.

Monkey pondered this question, before replying carefully. “Shall we say that he shared the source of his powers of farseeing with me, for a few brief moments?”

The sock puppet drew himself up to full height before pronouncing solemnly “My friends, Bernard and Kieran gave their lives to save the world from the comet. Now, we must steel ourselves to the even greater task of saving the world from the Red Man. We must ensure that their sacrifice was not in vain.”

“And that you’re sorry,” added Anna, sharply.

“I beg your pardon?” asked Monkey, airily.

“Say you’re sorry for being so beastly to them, Monkey,” she persisted.

“Why… why should I do that? They tried to take over the world! Twice!”

“Yes, and you never let them forget it, did you?”

“Well, of course not, you stupid woman!” screeched Monkey, incensed, “they were both deranged megalomaniac homosexuals… stylish ones I’ll concede… but they were dangerous madmen!”

“And what’s so sane about a talking monkey sock puppet?” challenged Anna.

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“Well, I’m obviously more sane than someone who actually believes in a talking sock puppet, aren’t I?” Monkey paused, placing the remains of a stubby paw to his mouth. His friends stared at him in undiluted shock.

“Erm… forget I said that,” he blurted, nervously.

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Sixteen “What happens now, Monkey?” asked Anna as she hugged the tiny puppet, “there are no more threats left. The comet has gone, thanks to Bernard and Kieran, Dahut is no longer a threat thanks to Mark’s incredible skill with a lump of well-hewn elm and we have the Book of the Future, ensuring that the Red Man cannot enslave the world. It’s all over!”

Monkey looked at Anna sadly. “It isn’t over, Anna.

It can never be over while the Red Man is still at large. He still has the Book of the Past and while he does, he will always be a threat to humankind.”

As if on cue, the Red Man appeared before them.

“Why, Monkey! How lovely to see you!” he smiled, “and how nice of you to bring me the Book of the

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Future! You truly are a lovely little puppet, aren’t you? Now, why don’t you hand the book over to me so that I can get on with destroying you and all that is good and enslaving the globe?”

“You’ll have to get through us first!” commanded Monkey, “You will not succeed, Red Man!” “You’re quite right, of course,” smiled the Red Man, “in my current form, I would be no match for such a powerful sock puppet. Oh, wait! I have a surprise for you!”

He stepped aside, revealing Zoltan the Magnificent in his full splendour, clutching the Book of the Past to his chest.

Anna let out a squeal of delight and was about to rush to her husband but the Red Man held up a hand to her face.

"Your husband was almost my downfall," he said, circling the stricken hero. "He very nearly managed to escape from Hades with the Book of the Past and, had he done so, would have ruined my plan. Still, that oversight has been addressed, thanks to the warning I received from your socalled friend, Captain Pow. You should choose your friends more carefully, I fear."

He took the Book of the Past and scrawled a short command inside. He closed the book and reopened it. “Now, witness the power of the ancient volumes, as I have scribed within the command to return me to my former glory and full power.”

The ground began to shake violently and the Red Man opened his arms wide, laughing manically, as he absorbed the power of Hades into his body, 276

causing him to fined and transform into the hideous demon more readily recognised as the Devil himself. He stood before them, a huge monster, snarling and dribbling, huge red horns protruding from his skull, a long whippy tail whipping behind him, the very stuff of nightmares.

“What do you think now, Monkey? Do you still want to fight or would you rather just hand over the book quietly?” growled the Red Man, spitting slime over the little sock puppet, much to his disgust.

Yet Monkey stood firm, unfazed. “You still don’t scare me, you overgrown drool-bucket! Why don’t you just admit it? You can never beat me! We have been here countless times before and you always back out of any confrontation between the two of us. What are you afraid of? Defeat or humiliation?”

“Don’t make me laugh!” growled the Red Man, “all of the earlier battles were merely to boost your sagging confidence. Let’s face it, Monkey, you are not very important any more. We all know that Zoltan and Raine are the keys to all this. You’re a has-been now, Monkey. You used to thrive on people depending on you. Now that no-one needs you any more, you’ve merely become a spare part. Nobody believes in you any more.”

Monkey shook his head. “Don’t try that one on me, Red Man,” he mocked, “all my friends here are behind me all the way, aren’t you?”

There was no answer.

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Monkey nervously looked around and saw Anna, Zoltan, Raine and Mark talking merrily amongst themselves.

“Will you excuse me for just one moment?” he asked of the Red Man. The Red Man sighed. “Very well. I have waited many centuries to kill you, Monkey. I’m sure a few more minutes will make no difference.”

Monkey walked over to where his friends stood talking. “Excuse me? Is anyone watching the events that are unfolding over here? I’m trying to save the world while you lot stand here gossiping!

What’s going on?”

Anna looked at him with a slightly guilty expression on her face. “Sorry, Monkey. We were just discussing Sunday lunch and whether we should have roast beef or pork this time.”

“I’m sorry… what?” asked Monkey, stunned.

“Which do you think?” Anna continued, “Zoltan and I both prefer beef, but as Raine has correctly pointed out, we had beef only the other day.”

Monkey stood agape. “I DON’T CARE ABOUT FLAMIN’ SUNDAY ROASTS!” he yelled.

“Besides, I only like sausages. But that isn’t the point! Can we please get on with saving the world?”

“Well, I’m sure there was no need for that outburst!” protested Zoltan, “we were only making polite conversation!”

Monkey huffed. “Anyway, whatever happened to Ruud?”

“Ah… well…” stammered Zoltan, “he had to go back to Amsterdam to front the new Ys detergent 278

campaign. ‘Don’t be Ruud, use Ys powder.’ Quite catchy, if you ask me…”

“Oh for goodness sake!” said Monkey, banging his paw on his head, “whoever thinks up these slogans?”

“I quite like it…” Raine replied.

“And Ys powder does leave your whites brilliantly clean…” added Anna.

“Err, excuse me?” called the Red Man, “can we get back to the mindless killing bit? I do have other things to do today, you know?”

“Yes, yes!” snapped Monkey impatiently, “I’ll be with you in a moment! Don’t be such a fussy bugger!”

“Don’t mind me,” said the Red Man, shaking his head, “I’ll just sit here quietly while you lot write your Christmas card list…”

“CALM DOWN, YOU BIG DRAMA QUEEN!” shouted Monkey. The Red Man folded his arms in protest.

Monkey turned back to his friends. “Right, do you think you guys can help me out a bit here?” he growled. Reluctantly his friends agreed and followed Monkey back towards the centre of the field.

“Oh, so NOW you’re ready,” said the Red Man. “Just get on with it,” hissed Monkey. The Red Man stood up and walked away from the combine harvester, sighing and mumbling to himself. He stood opposite Monkey, arms by his side. Monkey mirrored the Red Man’s stance. The entire field fell silent, punctuated only by the quiet whistle of the breeze and a single tumbleweed rolling 279

between them. Monkey raised an eyebrow as he watched it roll past.

“Oh, this is just silly!” said the Red Man at last.

With a single sweep of his hand, dozens of large, flat slugs appeared, surrounding Anna, Zoltan, Raine and Mark in a small circle.

“So, Monkey, the choice is yours. Do you hand over the Book of the Future and watch your friends die at the hands of my creatures, or do you keep the Book of the Future so that I have to kill you and your friends?”

Monkey looked at his friends sadly. Whatever choice he made, they would each die mercilessly and this time he was powerless to stop it.

“I’ll give you the book,” said Monkey, “but please, let them go. This is between you and I. They have done nothing to you.”

The Red Man paused, deep in thought.

“Nice sentiments, Monkey. But wasted on me, I’m afraid. The answer is no.” He raised his hand to signal for the slugs to attack. He fired a bolt of energy at Monkey, hitting the little puppet squarely and rendering him rooted to the ground, unable to move his little woolly legs. Monkey was forced to watch in horror as the giant slugs advanced on his friends.

“Oh, by the way, I haven’t forgotten you, Monkey!” laughed the Red Man, pointing to the abandoned combine harvester. Immediately the huge machine roared to life and began trundling towards the little sock puppet.

Realising they were about to be eaten alive, Zoltan, Anna, Raine and Mark hugged each other.

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As the first of the slugs touched Zoltan’s leg, he had a flash of inspiration – save his family. He picked Raine up and threw him with all his might over the slugs. It was quite a throw. Raine easily cleared them with several feet to spare. The young man landed heavily on the ground and sat up quickly to see his parents disappear beneath the frenzied mass of hungry slugs. He turned his eyes away from the horror and saw Monkey about to be torn to shreds by the combine harvester.

“Raine!” called the little simian puppet, “take the book! Run away with it! Get as far from here as possible. There is only you now. You are the chosen one!”

Using every ounce of strength and agility he possessed, Raine ran over to Monkey, dodging shots of energy fired at him by the Red Man. Monkey threw him the Book of the Future in a perfectly executed rugby pass. Raine caught the book cleanly and ran as quickly as he could to the edge of the field. He looked over his shoulder in time to see the tiny puppet get swallowed up by the combine harvester, tearing the woolen figure into shreds and marking the end of his very long eventful life.

Confused, emotional, tired and lonely, Raine stood for several moments, wondering what he could possibly do next. He had no-one left to provide him with guidance. Everyone was gone.

He was on his own to face the Red Man in a battle that was shaping up to be about as one sided as a fight between Mike Tyson and Kieran van Bookshelf armed with a cocktail shaker.

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He looked over at the Red Man, who was grinning and drooling at him. “Still want to make a deal, Raine?� he laughed as he began walking towards the young man.

Raine had no time dwell on the carnage before him, the pitiful remains of his parents, nor even the complete hopelessness of his position.

Monkey had charged him to flee with the book, but to where? In a moment of bizarre parallel logic he sprinted towards the only place he thought a book could be safe: the library.

He had never run as fast in his life. Then again, he had never had the Lord of the Underworld chasing after him, determined to rip his limbs from his body. That would probably be enough to make anyone run rather quickly. He did not need to turn around to check whether his nemesis was still in pursuit as he could hear the snarling creature close behind. He felt a huge wave of relief as he reached the library.

Once inside, he bolted the heavy oak doors and looked around. There was an eerie, stark, greyness about the place. Rows of computer consoles stared their blankness into silence, the roaring fireplace had died and above it, the gilded portrait of the Baron offered cold comfort for he too was as dead as the fire beneath him. Truly the hero of the world, the philanthropic owner of the world’s most popular biological detergent and most quirky advocaat, and indisputably the first gay megalomaniac in space had joined his own parents, even Monkey himself, in succumbing to the Red Man. 282

How could he be the chosen one? He was just a boy.

A heavy pounding struck the door, like a clap of thunder and he knew that his nemesis had caught up with him. There was no escape. Even if he ran again, how long would it be before he was found?

An hour? A day? No, there was nowhere left to go.

The whole building seemed to shake, bearing the full brunt of the Red Man’s rage as he beat against the ancient oak doors with all of his magic and his might.

Raine cradled the Book of the Future those final few yards to the old Library enquiry desk and laid it upon this altar. Praying that inspiration would seize him, he knelt and cast his eyes to heaven.

As he did so, he thought of the library veranda and that touching little love story Bernard had told him with his dying breath. It still made no sense, how could a falling star years ago have anything to do with what was happening now… unless?

The library began to painfully shake itself to death under the Red Man’s evil wrath. Huge blocks of masonry and plaster abandoned the walls and roof, crushing the computer consoles like overripe fruit. Splinters of wood cracked out of the doors, and the Baron’s portrait slipped from its mountings, shattering on the sandstone fireplace.

Desperately, Raine took up a fountain pen from the enquiry desk and opened the book. He smiled ruefully as he scribbled a few words: Bernard’s one wish, and then, with grim determination, he began a new paragraph.

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Outside, the Red Man had conjured a terrific wind, which buffeted the library, quickly snapping the ceremonial flagpole like a twig. A moment later, the entire roof gave way, showering the main room with debris. Part of an ornamental column struck Raine on the back as he stooped to write.

With his dying hand, he summoned sufficient strength to close the book, before the remnants of the Dutch flag fluttered down to shield his body from discovery.

The Red Man blasted the last few pieces of the once proud doors away disdainfully. There on the enquiry desk, surrounded by rubble, lay the means to his final victory. Reverentially, he placed the Book of the Past upon it and the two ancient volumes conjoined in a flash of dazzling brilliance, illuminating the jagged ruins of the fallen library.

“And now,” boomed the Red Man, “the world is mine, and mine to end!”

He turned to the page on which he would write the final destruction and enslavement of the earth and noticed a scrawl beneath the copperplate entries of the recent past: a short sentence and then an unfinished paragraph. Intrigued, he read the sentence to himself and chuckled.

“Well, well, well!” he said, with an evil leer on his face, “so that librarian got his final wish and stabs at me even from the icy grave of space. Well, if he wants that, so be it. The fact that AIDS now never existed will make little impact on to the suffering that I am about to inflict!” He cackled a chilling laugh but arched his eyebrow at the paragraph

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beneath. It looked uncannily like the beginning of a story.

“It was raining again,” he read out. “It was raining again? That’s not a command!” he thought moodily, “someone’s obviously misunderstood what this book is for! Zoltan sat at the table…

Zoltan? He’s dead! What the heck is all this about?” he thought, but then, quite involuntarily, he kept reading…

“NO!!” he screamed in horror, realising the terrible relentless trap that he had set for himself. **** Monkey sighed as he stared out of the window and watched as the heavy clouds threatened rain once more. The evening seemed like every other evening in Towndale and, as usual, he was spending it at the local pub with his friend and local nutjob, Zoltan the Magnificent. Yet, despite the familiarity of the surroundings and prevalence of the events, Monkey felt uncomfortable, that long-forgotten feeling of dread began to creep over him. Something was coming. Something evil.

It was raining again. Not one of those pathetic rain showers that you sometimes get in the middle of summer. This was a huge downpour, a more typical Autumn "open the floodgates and let 'er rip" rainstorm than a miserable February day.

Zoltan the Magnificent looked out of a nearby window and sighed. He got up and walked to the bar. Of course, the only reason he went to the pub every night was "for the good of humanity."

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Without Zoltan's social presence, the pub just wouldn't have any atmosphere.

That could actually seem a very conceited comment on Zoltan's part, were it not true.

Actually, if the truth were told, it was not so much Zoltan that people came to see.

It was that damn Monkey.

Monkey could feel an itch forming on his nose, but, even more pressing that this came an irritating new feeling. A recognition, a strange inkling that he had been in this very position once before‌ Out on the library veranda, snuggled against his master on a pink fur-lined chaise-longue, Kieran made his wish. He felt sure that the Baron felt the same way about him as he did about the Baron, and he wished with all his heart that he would come to realise that. He wondered if the Baron had made a wish too, but he was too timid to ask: yet.

The Baron closed his eyes, and half-bowed, humbly to the falling star. Without understanding how, he could picture his dying spacecraft reentering the earth’s orbit and he made his wish: that the story would have a happier ending. Next time.

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