The Kraken had had enough. Whatever this creature was, it had to be dealt with! The Kraken worked on instinct. And instinct told it this thing was a threat.
It bellowed in rage, and began its attack, swiping at Grenzilla with its snapping claws.
The Kraken turned, and slunk away into the depths.
‘You did it, Grenville!’ shouted Hamish, in delight.
But Grenville did not understand him or reply, on account of him still being an enormous prawn.
‘Grenville Bile – the Chosen One!’ laughed Alice. ‘Who would have thought it?’
Hamish’s dad got straight back on the radio. He had to make sure the Terribles were being dealt with, and now that the electrical interference had disappeared with the Kraken, the walkie-talkies were back in action.
‘Every kid is a Chosen One,’ said Lydia. ‘You just need to find out what you’ve been chosen for.’
And you would have thought everything would be all right now.
The monster that threatened Starkley was gone.
Belasko would have the Terribles surrounded and contained on their boats.
Lydia was back.
Venk still had spare sandwiches.
But Hamish stared out at the sea, not listening to the chatter of his pals.
Because the clouds were moving quickly, joining together and blackening the sky.
This felt just like his dream. And that meant it wasn’t over.
32
‘HAAAAAAMISH,’ came a voice.
It was a voice that dominated the sky.
It came from the sea, from the hills and fields and clouds.
It came from the left, the right, above them, below them.
It seemed almost to come from inside them.
The gang jumped and looked around.
‘Is that . . . ?’ asked Buster.
Hamish looked to the sky. To the place he’d flown in his dream, high above the cliffs. He felt that if Scarmarsh was watching him, he’d be watching him somehow from there.
How? He had no idea. A satellite? From a ship or plane? Or had Scarmarsh truly mastered magic? Was he some kind of God now? All-powerful?
‘HAMISH!’ it came again.
It was time for Hamish to face up to things and talk to Scarmarsh.
‘What do you want from me?’ he shouted into the wind.
‘Why can’t you just leave us all alone?’
Hamish’s dad was watching, openmouthed.
The voice of his brother. The brother he hadn’t spoken to since that day so many years ago. The day Scarmarsh had found his name.
‘YOU HAVE A GOOD HEART, HAMISH,’ came the voice.
Hamish hadn’t been expecting that . . . he didn’t know what to say.
‘Thank you?’ he tried.
‘BUT A HEART HAS TWO SIDES.’
‘He’s right,’ whispered Elliot. ‘It also has four chambers, the upper and lower.’
‘I don’t think that’s what he means,’ Clover whispered back.
‘IT HAS A GOOD SIDE,’ boomed Scarmarsh. ‘THE SIDE WE ENJOY WHEN WE ARE YOUNG, AND FULL OF HOPE AND JUSTICE.’
Hamish looked at his friends in the PDF. At Lydia. His dad. Smasha and Kit. At Grenzilla. They really had to remember to turn him back into a boy.
‘AND IT HAS A BAD SIDE,’ came the voice. ‘AND THE BAD SIDE IS SO MUCH MORE FUN.’
‘Stop!’ shouted Hamish’s dad. ‘Axel, he’s not like us! He shouldn’t have to choose!’
What did his dad mean, ‘us’? Was his dad saying he was bad, too? That he’d had to decide to be good? Is that what you do in life? You have to choose to be good?
‘I KNOW YOU, HAMISH,’ came the voice. ‘AND YOU ARE JUST LIKE ME.’
The fury swelled in Hamish’s stomach.
‘THE BAD SIDE WILL ALWAYS WIN, HAMISH,’ said Scarmarsh. ‘THE BAD SIDE IS WHERE TRUE POWER LIES. EVENTUALLY YOU KNOW YOU WILL BE LEFT WITH NOTHING. BUT JOIN ME, AND I CAN GIVE YOU THE WORLD.’
How was Scarmarsh doing this? How did he seem to be coming from everywhere? It didn’t make sense. He couldn’t be all-powerful. But look at the evidence. He was nowhere, yet he was everywhere. He was even in Hamish’s dreams. How could you fight someone like that? How could you ever beat them? And could Scarmarsh be right – could even Hamish turn bad?
‘YOU WILL JOIN ME, HAMISH,’ said Scarmarsh. ‘YOU WILL SIT AT MY SIDE. I WILL GIVE YOU THE WORLD.’
‘That wasn’t in my dream!’ shouted Hamish. ‘None of it!’
There was a pause.
No response.
That was weird.
He waited.
‘AH, DREAMS,’ came the reply, finally. ‘PERHAPS . . . YOUR DREAMS ARE TELLING YOU WHAT YOU ALREADY KNOW.’
Why had he taken so long to reply? And was Hamish imagining it, or did Scarmarsh sound a bit uncertain?
Hamish looked around. For the first time, he noticed a small CCTV camera on the public toilets at the edge of the cliff. The little red light underneath was blinking.
‘PERHAPS YOUR DREAMS HAVE REVEALED TO YOU YOUR FUTURE.’
Scarmarsh seemed thrown by Hamish mentioning the dreams, almost as if he didn’t know about them. And in that moment, Hamish knew the truth: his dreams were his own, they hadn’t been created by anyone else. Somehow, he had known this day with Scarmarsh would come. Somehow, his own mind had been warning him.
And Hamish realised something else too: Scarmarsh was not all-powerful. He was a man, just like Hamish would be one day. Just like his dad was. And people made mistakes.
And if Scarmarsh wasn’t some weird all-powerful God, then he had to be watching Hamish somehow. But what if it wasn’t from the sky? What if it was through that camera? A normal man using tricks to make himself look impressive?
‘Elliot,’ whispered Hamish, covering his mouth so the camera couldn’t see. ‘What’s the speed of sound?’
‘Huh?’ said Elliot. ‘It’s 343 metres per second.’
Hamish uncovered his mouth.
‘SCARMARSH!’ he shouted. ‘Can I ask you something?’
Hamish started to count in his head.
1 . . .
2 . . .
3 . . .
He kept counting. No response came.
And then . . .
‘OF COURSE,’ said Scarmarsh. ‘ASK ME ANYTHING.’
This was the second time today Scarmarsh had actually said something in response. And it had taken him absolutely ages.
‘Elliot,’ whispered Hamish again. ‘What’s fourteen times 343?’
‘Easy,’ said Elliot. ‘It’s . . . a much bigger number. Why?’
‘Cover your mouth! He can see us through that camera and read our lips!’ said Hamish. ‘Now, that reply took fourteen seconds. That means it travelled for fourteen seconds. If we can work out how many metres sound travels in fourteen seconds, then we can work out how far away he is!’
‘What is this, H, maths class?’ said Buster. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I think Scarmarsh is actually miles away,’ whispered Hamish, his hand over his mouth, ‘and he’s using some kind of loudspeaker to project his voice to us. That’s why it seems like it takes so long for him to reply – there’s a delay!’
‘It’s 4802 metres!’ said Smasha, quietly. ‘Puffoxes are excellent with numbers.’
‘Brilliant!’ whispered Dad. ‘That’s about three miles.’
Hamish’s eyes widened.
‘That means he’s either in Frinkley . . .’ said Hamish. ‘Or he’s on Frykt.’
‘Impossible,’ said Dad. ‘The Belasko agents have checked the island from the choppers. They saw Terribles, but no Scarmarsh.’
‘Well, that’s where the sound must be coming from,’ said Hamish. ‘Either he’s on it, or his equipment is. That island is where his power lies. That’s how he’s doing this. And it’s time we did something about it.’
Hamish’s dad nodded. He knew just what Hamish was suggesting. One word had given it away. He stepped back, and t
ook out his walkie-talkie, ready to give the order.
‘WELL?’ came Scarmarsh’s voice again, still waiting for Hamish’s big question.
And this time, Hamish did not scream into the sky.
He turned, and stared straight at the CCTV camera.
‘Have you got the time on you, Uncle Axel?’ he said, smiling.
33
The town clock shot through the air.
It had blasted off from the town square the very second Hamish’s dad had given the order.
It had always been designed for a purpose just like this. But never did anyone think the target would be so close.
Belasko had immediately allowed the Terribles to flee on their boats and tankers. The choppers quietly escorted them away, pointing them towards the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. There were too many tankers to deal with, but rest assured: they would deal with them later.
For now, Frykt was the target, and Hamish and his pals watched as the town clock missile (Codename: the Time Bomb) arced through the air, tearing through clouds, and heading towards Frykt.
‘I KNOW WHAT YOU’RE DOING!’ screamed Scarmarsh, his voice reverberating around the cliffs.
If Hamish was right, he wouldn’t be hearing Scarmarsh’s voice for a while.
But was Scarmarsh on the island?
Or wasn’t he?
Suddenly – a blinding light. Smasha covered his eyes. Buster yelped.
Hamish began to count.
1 . . .
2 . . .
3 . . .
And after fourteen seconds . . .
BOOOOOOOOOOOM.
Frykt was destroyed!
For a moment, everyone stood in silence.
Hamish glanced at the CCTV camera. There was no blinking red light any more.
‘Scarmarsh?’ called out Hamish. ‘Uncle Axel?’
He waited. Counted. Twenty seconds passed.
There was no response.
‘It doesn’t mean we got him,’ said Dad. ‘Just that we destroyed some of his equipment. He has other places. Other bases. He may just have been broadcasting the sound from Frykt.’
Hamish heard something in his dad’s voice that sounded almost hopeful. Like in some way he hoped Scarmarsh was okay. Hamish understood. Scarmarsh may have been the enemy, but he was also family. And his dad was right, Scarmarsh could have been anywhere even if the loudspeaker was on Frykt. But Hamish couldn’t be certain. After all, would Scarmarsh really have given up the chance to see the Prawn Kraken take on Starkley? Could he have found a way of controlling it from the island? And would he have trusted the Terribles to assemble on their own?
Hamish had a feeling Scarmarsh wanted to destroy Starkley so that he would not only strike at the heart of Belasko , but leave Hamish with nothing. Perhaps if Hamish had nothing left to fight for, he would join him. But Hamish would never join Scarmarsh.
‘We did something important today,’ said Hamish. ‘We showed Scarmarsh he can make mistakes. That he’s not impossible to beat. And that we know it.’
‘What if he does come back?’ said Alice. ‘What if we didn’t get him? He always comes back harder.’
‘Then we’ll deal with him,’ said Hamish. ‘Together. As a team. Because we’re the PDF.’
They high-fived.
And then very slowly everyone realised that Grenville Bile was still a massive prawn, and basically incapable of high-fives.
‘I should probably do something about that,’ said Kit.
When Smasha landed the Astral Plane back in the town square, things looked . . . well . . . a little different than they had.
‘Goodness!’ said Lydia.
The entire square was covered in soot from the town clock’s rocket boosters. And the clock itself, of course, was missing.
‘Maybe it’s time we updated to digital anyway,’ said Madame Cous Cous. ‘Oh look – a delivery!’
A giant truck was rumbling into town, followed by supermarket vans and trucks.
The very second the Prawn Kraken had been dealt with, the barriers and gates had been raised all around Starkley. The townsfolk had pulled down the barbed wire in defiance. RULES SHEETS had been torn from buildings. Curfews had been banned. Extra-large shopping orders placed. They knew that, soon, the rest of the country would welcome it back with open arms – and indeed pretend like nothing had ever happened. The Central Speaker was playing easy listening music, and as if on cue, even the sun felt it was okay to shine again.
‘CHIPS!’ yelled Grenville, spotting someone happily walking past with a packet from Lord of the Fries. ‘WE’VE GOT CHIPS AGAIN!’
Grenville had no memory of being Grenzilla. It turned out that shapeshifting could be pretty traumatic the first time you try it and Grenville’s brain had obviously decided the best way to cope was to block the whole wrestling match from his memory. He in no way believed that just an hour or so before, he’d been about the size of three doubledecker buses, and bright pink. He just wondered where all his clothes had gone. Buster had lent him his pants, and at least he still had a cape. But he didn’t care. Because Lord of the Fries was back, back, back!
‘I’m getting scampi!’ he shouted. ‘For some reason I really feel like seafood. Sort of got the taste for it. Also I seem to stink of fish, which is weird. But I don’t have any money on me!’
‘I don’t think you’ll ever have to pay for a meal in this town again,’ said Hamish’s dad.
Grenville just looked at him like he was mad, and walked off.
The truck puffed and wheezed to a stop outside Madame Cous Cous’s International World of Treats. It seemed ages since the kids had had a proper sweet shop blowout.
‘You can take whatever you like,’ said Madame Cous Cous, as the first barrel of Swedish Sweetballs was unloaded. ‘But maybe avoid the candied prawns.’
‘Grandma Lydia,’ said Alice. ‘Will you stay in Starkley? Please?’
Lydia smiled.
‘I can stay a few days.’
‘Just a few days?’
Lydia stroked her granddaughter’s cheek.
‘There’s nothing I’d love more than to be right here with you and your mum,’ she said. ‘But so much time has passed since I last tried to settle down. And I’m needed elsewhere, now more than ever. If Scarmarsh is out there still, he’ll be developing something even worse than he’s managed so far. And these two need me.’
She pointed at Kit and Smasha, who were leaning against the Astral Plane.
‘You can all stay!’ said Alice. ‘We could use you guys in the PDF! You can live in our HQ! People will get used to a big talking puffer fish walking around the place!’
‘We have a job to do,’ said Lydia. ‘We’re Monster Patrol. I need to teach Kit everything I know.’
‘Teach me!’
‘You have your own mission in life, Alice,’ she said. ‘You have to find out what it is. But make no mistake: you’re a Chosen One too. I think you can choose to be a Chosen One. Every kid can. And I’d choose you every time.’
Alice smiled.
‘I’m going to start up Monster Patrols everywhere I can,’ said Lydia. ‘The world needs it. And now we’ve got a Prawn Kraken to hunt!’
Alice knew there was no stopping this woman. She had a mission. It was just who she was. She’d never be a normal grandma.
‘I’m going to do Monster Patrol properly this time. And I’m making Kit the Head of Magic.’
Kit looked delighted. Magic would live on, in Monster Patrol. He would learn everything he could. Not just about magic. But about his grandma. He had so many questions for Lydia. He could see that adventure ran in the family for both Hamish and Alice. He wondered what ran through his, and he wanted to find out.
‘Our paths will cross again, my girl,’ said Lydia. ‘I guarantee it.’
Alice hugged her grandma, hard, as the rest of the town poured into the square to congratulate their heroes. Hamish’s mum. Jimmy. Alice’s mum and dad, holding Benny the rabbit. Mr Slackjaw. A tiny sq
uirrel called Flippy.
‘Now, I’ve been eating coconuts for about twenty-seven blooming years,’ said Lydia, ‘is there any chance Venk could make me a sandwich?’
Well, they could do better than a sandwich.
The people of Frinkley, Thrupton, Urp and even Swellbelly immediately ordered all of their takeaway drivers and food trucks to get to their brave protectors in Starkley. They parked in the square in the shape of a big THANKS.
‘Oh my WORD!’ said Grenville Bile, running from truck to truck, with a vast teetering plate of burritos and curries and haddock and pizza and spring rolls and cheeseburgers and kebabs and chips and ice cream and . . .
‘PRAWNS!’ he shouted, dashing for a van called The Prawnbrokers.
He grabbed the biggest one he could and had a bite.
He went totally green.
‘For some reason, I’ve gone off prawns,’ he said, confused. ‘I think I’m going to go vegan.’
Hamish took his food and sat down on the grass with his dad. The grass seemed greener now. It was like the whole town had had an injection of colour. What had been faded and grey was now vibrant again.
‘That was fun,’ said Hamish. ‘I mean, it was absolutely horrific, but it was fun.’
‘Which bit?’ asked Dad. ‘The Amazon? You have to tell me all about it!’
‘Yeah, the Amazon was fun, except for the constant dangerous threats,’ said Hamish. ‘But I meant the last bit.’
‘The Prawn Kraken? Or firing off the town clock?’
‘No,’ said Hamish. ‘I mean, being on a mission with you.’
Hamish’s dad smiled.
‘Are some people just bad, Dad?’ he said. ‘What did you mean, on the cliffs, when you said “he’s not like us”?’
‘We all make choices,’ he said. ‘There’s no such thing as an evil baby. Well, not any more, I mean. But sometimes weak people do bad things. The trick is to be brave enough to do the right thing. You still have many of those choices ahead of you. But something tells me you’ll do the right thing.’
Hamish knew he was brave. He got scared sometimes, but he could be brave when it mattered. He looked over at Lydia, making her daughter and granddaughter laugh at her incredible tales. He spotted Kit and Smasha, giggling with Grenville as they tried to convince him he’d spent much of the day being Grenzilla. He looked at Elliot and Clover and Buster and Venk and he felt an incredible warmth. Whatever happened, they were all going to be okay. Because they had each other.
Hamish and the Monster Patrol Page 13