Contents
1 p.m.
2 p.m.
3 p.m.
4 p.m.
5 p.m.
6 p.m.
7 p.m.
8 p.m.
9 p.m.
10 p.m.
Several Months Later…
About the Author
Copyright
For Alexander
x x x
1 p.m.
“At last, we meet again, Doctor Dangerous.”
“Untie me, you fiend! One of these days, Splendid Man, I’ll make you pay for this!”
“Cash or cheque? MWA-HA-HA!”
“Let me go, or the whole world will know your secret…”
“You mean…?”
“Yes, your BIRTH name. Given to you as a hairless sprog!”
“YOU’RE BLUFFING!”
“LET ME GO, SPLENDID MAN, OR EVERYONE WILL KNOW THAT YOUR REAL NAME IS—”
“HARRY RAMSBOTTOM!”
“What?” Harry said, glancing up from his comic.
“Harry Ramsbottom, are you listening to a word I say? Put down your Splendid Man comic and listen up. We’re nearly there. I don’t know how you even read on the bus – it makes me feel very bilious.”
“What does ‘bilious’ mean?” Harry asked his grandad.
“It’s like sick,” Grandad replied.
“Well, why don’t you just say ‘sick’, then?” Harry asked.
“I’ve got a new app that sends me a word every day. I was trying to work it into the conversation. ‘Bilious’ was a good deal easier than yesterday’s, I tell you.”
“What was that?”
“‘Duck-billed platypus’. You just don’t see that many round Basingstoke, not these days.” Grandad sighed, dinging the bell and lighting up the “stop” sign. “Right, have you got your money?”
“YES!” Harry said, tapping his top pocket.
“Maybe you could buy a new notebook for the bestselling comic you’re going to write? How’s that going by the way?” Grandad asked casually as the bus came to a hissing stop.
“I wish I hadn’t said anything,” Harry muttered. “I’m still in the planning stage,” he said more loudly as they stepped off the bus.
Harry desperately wanted to be a comic book writer but he was having a hard time getting started.
“How far have you got? Title, chapters, sketches?” Grandad continued as they walked along the high street.
“Grandad!” Harry snapped. “Leave it, it’ll be ready when it’s ready. I’m just trying to find a good idea.”
“All right, all right. Now, I’ve got a few things to pick up in town. Are you OK to get back home from here?”
“Grandad! What do you take me for?”
“Remember to catch the Number 14 from the right side of the road this time.”
“I only made that mistake once! You’ve got to let it go, Grandad.” Harry shook his head.
“Fine. Just be careful! What do you want for tea?”
“Meat pie!” Harry yelled instantly.
“A fine choice, sir. It’ll be … ahem … splendiferous…”
“Word of the day again?”
“Yep, it’s the app that keeps on giving. Pies it is! Take care, Hal. See you later,” Grandad said, blowing him a kiss.
Harry waved his grandad goodbye before making his weekly pilgrimage down the high street to the comic shop. It was where you’d find him every Saturday afternoon, without fail. Some kids went to football, others lay about in their PJs eating cereal and playing video games, but, for Harry, his most favourite thing in the world was finding new comics to read for the rest of the week. Then, come Saturday, it was time to repeat the whole thing again. Back home, he’d read them, reread them, look at the pictures, tidy them, put them in order, dust them, put them in a different order … and so on. Often he’d bring them into school to show his mates at lunchtime – if it was a particularly good edition or if there was something really special about it, like a cool drawing.
That was the other thing Harry liked to do: copy the drawings. He was working on his own idea for a comic, but he just didn’t have quite the right story yet. And well, there was the other thing too … he wasn’t so good at spelling. Whenever he had to write anything in school, his work would always come back splattered with red corrections, looking like the teacher had had a nosebleed all over it. He tried his best, but he found words difficult. He was beginning to think he should just stick to reading comics and let the people who were good at words write them.
Harry took a deep sigh and scuffed his trainers on the pavement; the coins in his pocket jingled. He got pocket money for doing various things for his grandad during the week: putting the bins out, helping to feed the fish, finding Grandad’s glasses – he was always taking them off and leaving them somewhere weird, like the loo. Harry had wondered whether he should tell Grandad to buy one of those spectacle chain things, but that would cut Harry’s pocket money by about forty-five per cent, so he just kept quiet.
The high street was busy so Harry decided to take a shortcut. There was a narrow alleyway that went round the back of the shops. No one else used it even though it was faster – it was super-creepy. Opposite the shop walls was a looming wire fence topped with sharp spikes to stop anyone climbing in and going where they weren’t wanted. Behind the razor-sharp fence stood a really strange warehouse-like building. It looked like it had been taken straight from Gotham City and dropped in the middle of Basingstoke. The windows were steamed up and misty so you couldn’t see in. The bricks were almost black, as if the whole thing had been carved out of coal. It didn’t have any signs on it – apart from one: TRESPASSERS WILL BE PROSECUTED
No one ever saw anyone come or go. No one really knew what it was for or what people did in there but, whatever it was and whoever they were, they clearly didn’t want anyone to find out. Harry always ran past the building – it made his spine shiver and tingle like his bones were made of ice. He never stopped. He never looked too closely. He just ran until the fence disappeared and he was back among the shops and people again. It gave him the heebie-jeebies, but that was a small price to pay for getting to the comic shop that little bit quicker. Just before he was about to make a run for it, he felt something brush against him.
“Oh, hello,” he said, looking down as a cat snaked between his legs. “What are you doing sneaking around? Well, I don’t have anything for you. No snacks, I’m afraid,” Harry said, giving the cat a tickle before he legged it as fast as he could through the alleyway.
DING-A-LING! The bell rang as he opened the door to the comic shop. Harry took a deep sniff and savoured the smell of ink on paper. “Ah, my people!” he thought as he gazed around the shop at his fellow nerdlings. A few lifted their heads from the shelves and stared back. Harry sometimes forgot that his thoughts came out as words. And that’s when he saw it – the latest issue of Splendid Man. Harry ran over and grabbed it. His eyes gobbled up every bit of the cover like he was about to have it for tea. He went to turn the first page but stopped himself. “No! You’ll enjoy it more if you wait,” he muttered.
“’Course I know what goes on in there. Everyone knows.” Harry overheard a couple of older teens talking on the other side of the shelf.
“You don’t know!” the girl with the pigtails scoffed.
“Listen, I saw someone go in there once. He had, like, a MASSIVE laser thing.”
“The building out back?” the other guy asked.
“Yeah. I swear it’s an Area 51-type place – highly classified – where they do all these weird experiments. Like spawning aliens to take over the planet and stuff.”
“
You’re talking a load of baloney,” the girl sneered.
“No, seriously, I read it on the Internet.”
“Oh, the Internet… Then maybe it is true…”
Harry stood on his tiptoes, listening hard for more details, but the group of teens had gone. Were they definitely talking about the building in the alleyway? he thought to himself. Alien stuff? No, surely not?
Harry glanced at the clock. If he bought his comics now, maybe he could go and watch for a while. Well, maybe not watch, but walk past really, really slowly – see if anyone went in… You couldn’t get into trouble for just looking, could you? Perhaps this was just what he needed to help him write his comic – intel on super-secret aliens. It wasn’t spying if he was doing research for a book. Where was the harm in that?
2 p.m.
Harry paid for his comics, put them in his bag along with the receipt, and headed back the way he’d come down the alleyway. This time, instead of quickening his pace as he usually did, he stopped in front of the building and stared up at it. Harry wasn’t really sure what he was looking for: something out of place maybe, a flash at the window, or even a UFO landing on the roof – yes, that would be definite proof that something weird was going on. Harry glanced up at the sky as the roar of a jumbo jet flew above him. When the noise died down, he heard something: a clank of metal and … was that footsteps, too? He squinted, cocked his head and tried to do his best listening. He was trying to figure out where the noise was coming from when suddenly he felt something land on his shoulder.
“AGGGGGGGGH!”
he yelled, leaping about three metres in the air!
“Miaooow.” It was the cat from before. It had sprung out of nowhere and was now digging its claws into Harry’s favourite jumper.
“Do not do that! You scared me half to DEATH!” Harry bellowed, his heart beating like a drum in his chest. The cat gave him a sideways glance and jumped off his shoulder. “I told you, I don’t have anything for you. What are you, some sort of guard cat?” Harry asked suspiciously. The cat glared back at him. I mean he did look pretty scary, Harry thought, as he got into a staring competition. The cat thought better of it and fell asleep right there and then. Maybe he wasn’t such a good guard cat after all.
Harry looked over at the building again, then checked the time and yawned. This research thing was, if truth be told, a little boring. He had been there for nearly ten minutes and hadn’t seen a single laser or UFO. “Right, well, I’m off out of here, strange goings on or not. I’m going home to read these beauties and maybe have a pie. It’s past my lunchtime – enough of this sloping about business.” Harry said to himself.
“Miaooow,” the cat responded, waking up and following Harry.
“Sorry, mate, not enough pie for two,” he said, turning round. “No, seriously, you can’t follow me home. Go on, shooooo…” Harry flapped his hands at the cat, but it was useless. I mean is there anything more futile than telling a cat what to do?
“Please, Whatever Your Name Is, just hop it…” Harry thought for a second. What don’t cats like … they don’t like dogs, that’s a fact. It’s in all the cartoons. So Harry decided that the best thing to do would be …
“RUUUUUUFFFF!”
“MIAOOOOOOWWWWW WWOOOOOOW!”
the cat squealed and ran straight up the fence towards the dark building.
“Oh, no, stop! You’ll get stuck! Come back.” What had he done? Harry tried to entice the cat back over the fence, but the more he tried, the further it walked away. Harry had a serious dilemna. What if the cat was abducted and made into alien stew? It would be all his fault. Rescuing a stray cat had really not been on his to-do list for the day. In fact, Harry much preferred reading about heroic acts than doing them himself but what choice did he have?
“Right…” Harry said, steeling himself. “Here we go…” And with a bit of pushing and shoving – and a very scary incident at the top where he nearly got cut in two – he managed to get over the fence and into the grounds. The strange building seemed to grow twice the size. Close up, it was also twice as scary.
“Come back!” he whisper-yelled at the cat. But with every step he took, the cat walked further away from him. Spotting another TRESPASSERS WILL BE PROSECTUED sign, Harry felt a wave of nausea wash over him. This was by far the most dangerous and most stupid thing he’d ever done. “Great, now I need a wee!” he called after the cat.
That’s how nerves expressed themselves in Harry – through his bladder. The school play, for instance, would be a five-wee type of situation. A maths exam, while still nerve-wracking, would only be a two-wee problem, say. This, however, was definitely a ten-wee scenario. The cat disappeared round the corner so Harry followed too, crawling on his hands and knees, making the sort of lip-smacking squeaky sounds one does when trying to get a cat to come to you. He crept round the corner, making sure that no one was about. It suddenly went deadly quiet; the distant din of traffic was gone and now there was just an eerie silence – and no cat.
“Pusskins … I’m sorry about the barking thing. That was a mean trick. Please come out! Maybe we can share that pie after all…” he cajoled, pulling out his ace card. Then Harry noticed a huge garage-like door, the sort you pull up from the bottom. A garage-like door that was now just open enough for a cat to creep through – a cat and a very small boy. “Oh, fine. I mean, why not?” Harry sighed. “I’ve probably already broken the law. I can’t believe I’m going to be experimented on by aliens – all to save a cat that isn’t even mine.” Harry took a deep breath, before pulling himself through the small gap on his hands and knees.
It was dark and it seemed to take an age for his eyes to adjust. As the cavernous room began to take shape, he thought he saw something in the distance. “Pusskins…?” he called. There was a miaow then a crash of metal and a shriek from the cat that sounded far away.
“OK, OK, OK, OK. I’m coming…” Harry said, putting his hands out to feel for a light switch. He took hold of a lever … a lever is like a switch, isn’t it? After a second’s pause, he gave it a sharp yank. Suddenly, one by one, lights began to turn on and Harry could finally see where he was. It was some sort of warehouse laid out like a huge laboratory with machines everywhere.
“There you are…!” Harry said, spotting the cat. Harry held out his hands but the terrified cat ran straight past him towards the door without giving him a second glance. “Oh, you’re welcome!” Harry cried out sarcastically after it. He shook his head as the cat disappeared. But any worries about the moggy were soon replaced with new ones.
“What is that?” Harry asked aloud as he heard a high-pitched whining sound. It was getting louder and louder, like something was warming up, something big and electronic. Suddenly, there was a rumble as a trapdoor opened in the floor and a giant satellite dish type-thing popped out. The machines around the room began to bleep and dials began to turn. “Erm… Hey, Siri, turn everything off!” Harry yelled out in desperation. Nothing happened. “Well, it was a long shot, I guess,” he sighed.
Harry was in two minds. Should he try and fix things or run? Harry looked at the strange machine. It wasn’t a satellite dish after all. He reached into his bag and held up his Splendid Man comic. There on the front cover was a giant laser, exactly like the one in front of him. “Oh my days! It’s what those guys were talking about in the shop.” Run!!! Harry thought.
JUST RUN!
He dropped the comic and legged it as fast as he could towards the door. But before he could make it out, there was a bright flash of light and a deafening scream. An indescribable pain shot through him – as if he’d been struck on the bottom by lightning. Then everything went black.
3 p.m.
“What on earth?” Harry said, coming round. “What’s that burning smell…?” He rubbed his head and looked over his shoulder. “Wait, that’s my bottom! My bottom is on fire!” Harry screamed, spinning around in a circle, doing a good impression of a human Catherine wheel.
“Ow, ow, OWWWW
!” he yelled, galloping up and down looking for a fire extinguisher, a bucket of water, an old cup of coffee, anything! “This is a health and safety nightmare,” Harry muttered under his breath,
“Hang on, fire needs oxygen. Yes, that’s it! I need to starve the fire of oxygen,” he thought out loud as the only thing he remembered from science came flooding back.
“A BIN SHOULD DO IT!”
He spotted a small dustbin and quickly sat down on it like it was a potty. Miraculously, it worked! But then Harry remembered the only other thing he’d learnt in science: when you remove air from a confined space, you create a vacuum. In other words …
“Oh, come on! Now I’ve got a bin stuck on my bum! What else could possibly go wrong?” Just then, the smoke hit the detectors and the sprinklers came on, raining down on Harry. “Oh, perfect!” he cried out. “Well, at least it can’t get any worse.” He took a deep breath … and it got worse.
WAAAH WAAAH WAAAAH!
Alarms started wailing and flashing red, lighting up the whole building. Soaking wet, with a small dustbin stuck on his burnt bottom, Harry decided that his work here was done. He made a dash for the door. Not an easy task with a bin on your bum. Harry scampered across the soaking wet floor like a human hermit crab on the run. As soon as he got to the door, Harry crouched down and used his crab legs to push himself sideways through the small gap. He made it!
The sirens were as deafening outside as they were inside and he probably only had a few minutes before the police or fire brigade turned up, and then he’d be in big trouble. Harry needed to get out of there fast. He tried grabbing the bin off his bum but it was just too stuck. If only there was a way to propel it off…
That’s when it hit him: what if he guffed? Would a well-aimed bottom burp shoot the bin off his butt? Harry looked around. There was no way he would be able to make it over the fence with a bin on his bum, let alone catch a bus, without attracting attention. No, it was not a question of whether he should try. The real question was: could he summon one up? If he was Billy from geography, things would be different. That kid could fart on request – he seemed to have an endless supply. But Harry, being the well-brought-up boy he was, didn’t tend to let rip with carefree abandon. But these were desperate times, so, using all his strength, he closed his eyes and thought windy thoughts, and released a gust to beat all gusts. The thunder from down below shot the bin off with all the velocity of a cannonball. Harry turned to see it fly towards the fence and flinched as it embedded among the wires.
The Day I Got Zapped with Super Powers Page 1