This is bad. Really bad. We can’t run the plan without the tardigrades.
‘Can we get some more?’ Chets asks.
‘We took all of it,’ Kat says. ‘There was nothing left at the gate, and all the rest got dug up when they made the ditch.’
‘The ditch runs all the way around the crater,’ says Chets. ‘Except for by the road and…’
A noise from outside the door makes us jump. The door handle turns – someone’s coming in to the room. I look around. There’s nowhere to hide, no way to escape, no weapons to hand.
‘Brace yourselves, guys,’ I whisper. ‘We’ll need to bundle in together… One…’
The door starts to open.
‘Two…’
I see a hand, and a shoe.
‘Three!’ I yell, and we all jump on the person coming in.
‘Get off! It’s me!’ a familiar voice shrieks at us.
‘Ade!’ Kat says, and her death grip/headlock becomes a tight hug.
‘You made it! I knew you’d make it.’ Mak is grinning like a mad person.
I’m so happy, I can’t say anything. She’s dirty, has a few scratches and scrapes and a torn T-shirt sleeve. But she’s OK. She was right – she was more than capable. I should have trusted her.
‘Good to see you, Chets,’ says Adrianne.
‘Good to see you too.’ Chets hugs her.
‘So where are we with the plan?’ she asks, once we’ve all calmed down a bit.
‘It was going great,’ I say. ‘As you can see from Chets’ lack of creepy pincers and alien eyes. But…’
‘Trent did a runner with the tardimoss,’ Mak says.
‘What a swine,’ Adrianne says. ‘Not that I’m shocked.’
‘I always thought you liked Trent,’ Chets says, looking a bit confused.
In spite of the really, really bad situation we’re in, we all start to laugh.
‘What?’ says Chets.
‘I’ll tell you later,’ Ade says, taking off her backpack. ‘But first, you might want to take a look at what I’ve got in here.’
She unzips her bag. It’s crammed full of slimy green moss.
‘How?’ Kat says.
‘I went to the river to try to lose the bug-eyes,’ says Ade. ‘And there was lots of it there. I thought I might as well grab some.’
‘Legend,’ I say. ‘We’re back in business.’
It’s 6.30pm when we slink through the centre, back to our old friend the kitchen. Thanks to Chets’ inside information, we know that the bug-eyes will eat dinner at exactly 7pm. And we worked out for ourselves what they’ll be eating.
The kitchen is lined with shelves full of giant tubs and packets of different foods. We find the shelf we need, and look at our options.
‘They’ve already had tomato, chicken and leek and potato,’ I say.
‘They’ll want something different to keep a balanced nutritional content,’ says Chets. ‘So there’s lentil, chunky mushroom, or farmhouse vegetable.’
‘We’ll be able to disguise it best in the farmhouse vegetable,’ I say. ‘Look at all the lumps of green in there – there’s no way they’ll notice some handfuls of moss.’
‘Good call,’ says Mak, and he starts pushing all the other flavours of soup to the higher shelves, while the rest of us open the tubs of farmhouse vegetable and crumble in the moss. We give the soup a good stir, put the lids back on and by the time we’re finished, you can’t tell that the soup has been tampered with. We place the moss soup right at the front of the shelf that’s easiest to access.
‘How are we going to make sure they eat it?’ Kat says.
‘Leave that to me.’ Chets pulls his Crater Lake sunglasses out of his pocket. ‘The rest of you should hide – they’ll be here any minute.’
Ade, Kat, Mak and I take refuge in our trusty safehouse, aka the fridge, leaving Chets to work his undercover magic.
‘Are you sure Chets is up to this?’ Mak whispers.
‘He can do it,’ I say.
‘Oh, look, it’s Mr Tomkins,’ Kat says, as the kitchen door opens and two bug-eye workers walk in.
The four of us peek very carefully through the tiny opening we’ve left so we can spy out of the fridge.
‘He’s ruined his special T-shirt. He’s going to be really upset about that when all this is over,’ says Adrianne.
‘RIP T-shirt,’ I say. ‘It’s the end of an era. Life will never be the same again.’
‘And there’s Khalil,’ says Mak. ‘Mr Tomkins and Khalil, hanging out together, making some soup.’
‘At last,’ Chets says to them, as they walk across the kitchen. ‘I’ve been hunting excessively all day. My body needs sustenance.’
‘Proper nourishment is vital to these soft bodies,’ Mr Tomkins says. ‘We will prepare the food with all due haste.’
‘Good,’ says Chets. ‘I shall help you to prepare the nourishment.’ He picks a tub of farmhouse vegetable off the shelf and passes it to Khalil.
‘We are grateful for your assistance, Hunter. But should you not return to your duties? The human prey is still loose in the crater. We cannot allow them to hinder us.’
‘I am the hunter, and I will decide the best use of my time.’ Chets thumps his fist down on the counter in an aggressive way that I didn’t think Chets was capable of.
‘Of course, Hunter. As you wish,’ Mr Tomkins says, and he starts pouring the mossy surprise into a huge pot on the cooker.
‘When the nourishment is hot, serve it immediately,’ Chets says. ‘I will perform one more circuit of the crater before I join the hive for my sustenance.’ He walks out of the kitchen.
Mr Tomkins and Khalil finish warming the soup, then they carry it from the kitchen in the steaming pot.
‘You don’t think the water bears have been cooked to death, do you?’ Kat says.
‘They should be fine – remember they can survive extreme conditions, including really hot or cold. They’re probably swimming around in that soup having a tardi-party,’ says Mak.
‘Did you see me?’ Chets comes running in. ‘How awesome was I?’
‘You were so convincing,’ says Adrianne. ‘I’ve never heard you speak that way before. It was weird.’
‘You did great, Chets,’ I say, ‘but it’s going to be harder to convince Hoche and Digger you’re still a bug-eye. Are you ready for this?’
‘I’m ready,’ he says.
‘Then let’s prepare for the final stage,’ I say. ‘It’s all or nothing now.’
21
The Ticking Clock
We sit in a clearing behind the centre to go through the endgame. Each of us has a role to play, and if any of us fail, the whole plan will come crashing down. It requires total investment from all of us, and total investment is challenging when you haven’t slept properly in two days.
Everyone is assigned a job to match their skillset.
‘Big Mak: you understand construction and you’re strong. You’ll be stationed at the dam site. Your priority will be getting that dam down, however you can. We need the river flowing back down into the crater. Ade: you’re smart and you’re fast. I need you to help Mak at the dam. You’ll need to distract the guards while he susses out where the weak spot is. Once he’s made a dent in it, I want you both to attack a bug-eye. The rest of the plan depends on them releasing that pheromone and drawing all the others up to the river. Use the swarm. They’ll be frenzied and aggressive, so you might even be able to get them to do a lot of the dam destruction for you. Try to lure them into the riverbed so that when the dam breaks, they’re swept away.
‘We’ll get it done,’ Mak says.
‘And keep each other safe. When the river floods through, you both need to be clear of the torrent.’
‘Affirmative,’ Adrianne nods.
‘Ah, Big Mak and Adrianne – the perfect team,’ Kat says. ‘Your ship name can be Big Mad. No, Marianne. No – Madriak!’
Both Mak and Adrianne turn pink, so I move on.
‘Got it,’ Chets says.
‘Katja: you’re blessed with an innocent face and mad climbing skills. I need you to lure Digger.’
‘No problem,’ she smiles.
‘And I’ll take on Hoche. She’ll come for me anyway. It’s about time we faced off.’
The sun is getting low in the sky and we need that dam down before it gets dark. The bug-eyes can see at night, and we can’t, so they’ll have too much of an advantage if we leave it late.
‘Good luck, everyone,’ I say. ‘Let’s get ready to rumble.’
I wait nervously with Katja in the trees at the side of the lawn.
‘I hope Madriak are alright,’ Kat says.
‘They’re a couple of bad-As,’ I say. ‘And they’ll look out for each other. I’m sure they’re OK.’
‘I guess we’ll find out soon, one way or another.’
It’s still wicked hot, but for the first time in days there’s a slight breeze. It feels amazing as it tickles my skin, and it carries the faint smell of blossom. It’s almost like life is coming back into the crater. It gives me hope.
‘Look!’ Kat says, pointing at the bug-eyes who up until now have been completely engrossed in draining the lake. The water is ankle-deep. Like a flock of frightened deer, they all suddenly raise their heads and sniff the air. They turn in the direction of the dam, and then they drop their tools and run.
‘Oh gosh, how are Ade and Mak going to manage all those angry bug-eyes?’ Kat says.
‘We can’t worry about that now,’ I say. ‘Besides, the force is strong with them. If anyone can do it, they can. Look – Chets is up.’
Chets has been stalking around the treeline, as if he’s on hunter duty. When the bug-eyes start to swarm, he runs towards Hoche and Digger.
‘Hunters, cease!’ he calls, as they turn to join the others flocking to the dam site.
‘He’s totally got the bug-eye lingo down,’ I say.
‘Yeah, he’s embracing the role.’
Hoche and Digger turn to Chets, who is still wearing his sunglasses. That’s our sign to take position. Kat turns and hugs me.
We leave the shelter of the trees and sprint on to the floodlit lawn. The white lights glare down on us, like spotlights. We’re out in the open and visible to everyone in the crater. My vision blurs, so I can’t see anybody except Kat, and this is where we go our separate ways. She’s gone in a swoosh of colour, and I run, as fast as I can, towards the patch of tall trees on the far side of the lawn. In the corner of my eye I see the distorted shapes of Chets, Hoche and Digger. Chets starts to jog my way. Digger gallops after Kat. Hoche is shooting towards me like an arrow with a vendetta.
I close my mind to everything around me except the enormous tree looming ahead, and making my legs move faster and faster. I expect every moment to be tackled from behind, flung into the hard dirt ground, my teeth clashing together, the breath being knocked from my body, but Chets must be doing a good job of slowing Hoche down. I reach the tree. It has a rope ladder on one side. I launch myself at it and grab the highest rung I can, then I start to pull myself up, my muscles throbbing. I’m not the best at climbing and I wouldn’t usually attempt this without a harness, but I have to get higher.
I’m a third of the way up when Hoche reaches the tree. I look down to see her lurching at me, but her fingers miss my foot by a few centimetres. ‘I’ve got you now, Lance,’ she says. ‘This is a dead end – there’s nowhere left for you to run.’
I keep moving upwards, one rung at a time, until I reach the wooden platform. Once I’ve heaved myself on to it, I look down. Hoche and Chets are still on the ground, having a discussion. Chets points to a tree nearby and jogs towards it, while Hoche starts to climb up after me.
When I look down, all I can see are those creepy-mad eyes: the shiny black and glowing yellow. The urge to jump is almost overwhelming, but I know I have to wait.
I look across the lawn to the climbing wall. Katja is halfway up it, taking a complicated route – zig-zagging across it like a rainbow-coloured ant. Every now and then, she stops to pour something on the hand and footholds. She’s totally doing it like a boss.
Digger is behind her but not as fast as I’d have thought he’d be. He’s definitely changed shape. He’s bigger, especially across his chest, so he must be stronger, but he’s sort of twitching in a pretty disturbing way. He reaches the wall and throws himself on to it like an animal. He goes for the direct route upwards, grabbing the handholds and perching on the tiny footholds like he’s done this a million times. Every now and then he stops and his whole body sort of shudders.
Hoche looks over and smiles. ‘Ah, the sporeling’s metamorphosis is complete. Take a look, Lance, at the majestic form of a hunter.’
I watch in horror as Digger’s shuddering grows more and more violent. Then the top of his back massively expands, bursting through his polo shirt, which falls in shreds to the floor. His shoulder blades are overly prominent, and still growing. They pull apart, splitting his skin open to reveal a mass of dark grey fuzz underneath. He claws at his face and his human skin just peels away exposing his new skin, which is matte black, like velvet. He doesn’t look like a person anymore. He doesn’t look like a giant wasp, or one of those huge-eyed aliens you see on TV. He’s something I could never have imagined. Some impossible monster with a mix of human and insect-like features and a head like a mouldy potato. Although Digger’s head was a bit potatoey before he transformed, so maybe that’s just him. And, just as I think he couldn’t get any scarier, his shoulder blades extend out of his back, dripping black goo, and start to stretch into what can only be wings.
Katja screams, and I don’t blame her. I want to scream and I’m not up close and personal with the Digger monstrosity.
‘He’ll have her soon,’ Hoche says and carries on climbing up my tree.
I watch Kat with my heart racing and my mouth dry. She’s almost at the top of the wall. He’s close behind, but he’s having trouble moving his hands and feet. Our plan is working. Kat’s fingers grasp the summit and she starts to heave herself up. Digger tries to follow, but he can’t move his right hand from the handhold. His feet are stuck too. He jiggles about, and pulls and pulls, and finally gets his left hand loose. He lunges towards Katja and grabs her shoe. For half a second she falls back, then she drops something on Digger and kicks out. Digger makes a noise that’s somewhere between a scream and a roar. His wings stop unfurling – they must be stuck, too. Katja clings to the wall, and slowly eases herself up, leaving her trainer in Digger’s hand, and Digger roaring in fury, stuck to the superglued wall like a paralysed spider.
‘Doesn’t look like he’s going to have her after all,’ I say, so full of relief that I feel like I might wet my pants.
Hoche looks over. ‘No. No, no, no. This is your doing, Lance Sparshott, you vile little reprobate.’ She quickens her pace. Time to move.
I ease myself around the platform to the other side of the trunk where a thick rope is swinging slightly in the breeze. The leap of faith. An uncomfortably large distance away, stretched between two trees, is a large net. So there’s me on my ridiculously high platform and then a load of empty space, which I have to cross if I’m going to get away from Hoche and put her out of action.
I turn to see her fingertips appear at the edge of the platform. I hold the rope and try not to think about the huge drop to the ground. If I fall, there’s no way I’m going to make it without breaking most of the bones in my body.
The top of her head appears, and those truly awful eyes. She hisses at me, which I think is alien-speak for ‘I hate you and I’m going to kill you-slash-use your body as a host for my parasitic sporelings.’
I count three breaths. I hear the click of her heel on the wooden ledge. Then I fling myself from the platform.
At first I freefall – down through the air with nothing to hold me back. The feeling is sickening. I brace myself for the kick when the rope I’m clinging to for dear life goes taut. This is the most dangerous moment – the part where I’m most likely to lose my grip and fall. The rope jerks, my hands slip. My body jars at the bounce. I try to grasp the rope tighter, but it slides through my hands, burning my palms. The forward momentum is still swinging me towards the net. I just need to hold on for a second longer. My sore hands reach the end of the rope, as I near the landing net. I have one chance. So I let go and basically fly through the last bit of empty air and crash face first into the net. I manage to grab it with one hand and I try to lock it shut while the rest of my body bounces away from the net and then back towards it again. I get my other hand on to a rope, then a foot. I’ve made it. I hang there for a second, dripping with sweat and relief. There’s no breath left in my body.
But Hoche has grabbed the swinging rope and is strapping herself into the safety harness.
I force myself onwards, climbing the net as quickly as I can, though my whole body wants to give up and die. I only have a few seconds before she jumps.
I slide clumsily on to the platform – I’m not going to be winning any awards for being slick – then I take off my backpack and pull out the can of olive oil.
Hoche jumps at the same moment she clocks the oil. She howls, but it’s too late. I pour it all over the safety net.
When she hits it, she tries to grab on, but her hands just slip off. She bounces back and tries again on the return swing, but her hands are oily now so she has even less success. She’s losing momentum and she can’t get on to the net. She’s stuck and she knows it.
Crater Lake Page 14