by Annie Besant
They looked to the horizon. Dawn was breaking. A gull called again and this time Biscuit waddled towards the sound.
‘I think Biscuit wants the ocean,’ Priya murmured. Catching her mother’s questioning look, she only said, ‘I’ll explain later.’
‘I think you should let it go,’ BENO said gently. ‘It’s a creature of the wild and I – I think something was done to it as an egg. I don’t think even Dr POX knows what it will become.’
Sam hiccupped. ‘Pipi,’ he said, his voice trembling, ‘why does Biscuit have to go?’
Priya knelt down next to Sam. ‘You remember how happy he was when we took him to the beach, Sam?’
Sam nodded.
‘Don’t you want him to always be happy like that?’
Sam agreed with tears streaming down his face. Now, it was Priya’s turn to cry. She hugged the pterodactyl with all her might and said, ‘Be safe, Biscuit.’
Biscuit took a step back. Researchers would have said that the pterodactyl’s brain was too small to process anything as big as a feeling. But as it heard the sound of the gull once more, it fought its instincts to fly to the ocean.
‘Go, Biscuit, go,’ Priya and Sam sobbed.
Mom walked forward and cautiously reached for the pterodactyl’s head, ‘Go, Biscuit. It’s not safe for you here.’ Her voice cracked. ‘People will do cruel things to you if they catch you.’
They heard shouts in the distance. Soldiers were out searching for them.
‘Go,’ Priya urged, regretting that she didn’t have Biscuit’s favourite treat – peanut candy – on hand. Priya suddenly giggled, what sort of a reptile liked peanuts?
Biscuit raised its beak to the skies and trumpeted loud and clear: a warning cry as it flapped its wings and rose into the air.
‘I hope Biscuit doesn’t eat the seagull,’ Sam gurgled.
They stood, watching Biscuit sail into the breaking dawn.
BENO stepped into the silence. ‘Ma’am,’ she said to Mom. ‘You and the kids need to get out of here.’
‘But you said you would help us,’ Mom frowned.
‘I am going to help you get off this island. But my job here is not done. I can’t let Dr POX go free. I have to find her and I have to destroy the eggs.’ BENO paused, as if thinking of something, and then she said, ‘I can’t let her raise soldiers like me anymore.’
Mom didn’t know what BENO meant, but she sensed that more soldiers like BENO would be a bad thing.
‘Head straight down this path,’ BENO said, getting back to her commander mode. ‘When you near the beach, turn left and keep walking. You will find a cave where I have hidden a boat.’
She undid the watch on her left wrist. ‘Here, take this. It’s the key to the boat. You will find a key slot on the steering wheel, push this into it. Punch in your address into the touch screen, the computer system will automatically pull up the coordinates and take you to the beach nearest your home. You don’t have to do anything; the boat will take care of you.’
BENO took a step back, stood to attention. Before anyone could say anything, she had turned on her heel and was running back to the research centre.
17
A Boat, a Boy and the Wrath of Dr POX
Priya, Sam and Mom found the cave exactly where BENO had said it would be. The trek there had been difficult and tiring, but when they saw the boat, they cheered up.
‘Wow, so cool,’ Priya crooned as she helped Sam climb into the boat. Once everybody was aboard, Mom pushed the face of the watch into the slot on the steering wheel. A touch screen popped up next to the wheel and Mom typed in their address.
The tide was coming in quickly and the boat was beginning to rock. True to BENO’s words, the boat’s computer did all the calculating and computing and, in less than fifteen minutes, they were sailing out to the ocean.
‘Look, Pipi,’ Sam shouted, pointing to the island behind them. Loud booms were drifting towards them and fires had broken out.
‘I wonder why her name is BENO,’ Sam said thoughtfully.
They reached the beach and it was a weary family that trudged home. Priya and Sam climbed into Mom’s bed and fell asleep before she had finished pulling the curtains shut.
Smiling down at her children, Mom sent up a silent prayer for BENO before she too went to sleep.
Dad came home that evening from his trip. He found his family unnaturally quiet and gloomy.
‘What’s wrong?’ he teased.
‘We found a pterodactyl,’ said Priya, without thinking.
‘But we had to let it go,’ Sam added.
Dad blinked and looked at Mom. She shrugged and said, ‘Dinner is ready.’
Sam nudged Priya. Her phone was vibrating; it was the boy.
Priya looked at the phone and flipped it face down.
Meanwhile, miles away, Dr POX was standing at the wheel of a boat similar to the one the family had stolen away in. She was in a rage; her island was in ruins and her plans were destroyed. The world was trying to put her down again. She swore she wasn’t going to let the world get away with it. She swore again. Bio-Engineered Number One was now her worst enemy and she would hunt her down if that was the last thing she did.
About the Author
Annie Besant is a children’s author, poet and editor based in Chennai. An avid reader, she discovered that she too could shape words to create new and exciting worlds. Since then, she has been creating ink and paper portals for children to discover. Her picture books for young children include Mala’s Silver Anklets, When I Grow Up, Sam’s Christmas Present and Sammy Cricket Gets into Trouble. Her short story ‘Magic’ appeared in The Puffin Book of Magic for 8-year-olds. Emma Bigton and the Sphinx was her first book for older children. She’s working on a sequel to The Pterodactyl’s Egg. When Annie is not scribbling for growing minds, she is busy with her nose buried either in a Neil Gaiman book or a volume of Pablo Neruda’s poetry.
First published in India in 2015 by Harper Kids
An imprint of HarperCollins Publishers
Copyright © Annie Besant 2015
P-ISBN: 978-93-5136-522-8
Epub Edition © November 2014 ISBN: 978-93-5136-523-5
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Annie Besant asserts the moral right
to be identified as the author of this work.
This is a work of fiction and all characters and incidents described in this
book are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to
actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Cover design and all illustrations: Vishnu M. Nair
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