Kid Normal and the Final Five

by Greg James

  The door let out an unoiled moan of protest when Murph gently turned the key and pushed it open, and they all froze, listening intently for any alarm from inside. But only the passageway appeared before them, empty and innocent-looking. Murph signalled with the openhanded chopping motion that means ‘Follow me in a flamboyantly secretive style’, and they did so, Hilda throwing in a Flash-style commando roll as they crossed the threshold for added secret-mission thrills.

  Murph’s nostrils filled with a reassuring schooly scent – a mixture of floor polish, chalk dust and socks. The back of The School might be unguarded, but he could hear that there was plenty of activity towards the main doors at the front where, he assumed, the Banshee was now waiting for them.

  Murph was under no illusions that they’d be able to get all the way to the front yard without being spotted. He just wanted to get as far through the school as possible to keep their battling to a minimum. Suddenly there was a batter of booted footsteps from up ahead. Seeing a classroom door open to their left, Murph ushered the Super Zeroes inside just in time. Squatting underneath a desk, he saw several black-clad legs jog past.

  ‘Check all entrances!’ he heard a radio crackle as they ran. ‘We’ve got a set of keys reported missing! All areas on high alert!’ The boots faded into the distance.

  ‘Not the quickest on the uptake, are they?’ whispered Mary to Murph. ‘We got those keys ages ago.’

  ‘Mind control hasn’t improved their problem-solving,’ Murph replied. ‘I wonder if their brains are so full of Knox’s nonsense that they don’t have any room left for common sense.’

  ‘Classic villain mistake,’ added Billy, overhearing. ‘Low-quality hench-people. Schoolboy error.’

  Not all of the hench-persons guarding The School that day were low quality, of course. Kopy Kat was in charge of the operation, and she had deliberately positioned the less highly trained guards towards the back of the building. She wanted to ensure the Super Zeroes made it as far as the reception area beside the front doors, where she was now lying in wait with two Cleaners. She had a hunch that the Heroes would attack from the rear, and long years of sneaking around meant that her hunches about anything clandestine or undercover were eerily accurate. She smiled to herself. The Heroes probably assumed they were springing a trap … but they had no idea what kind of trap it was.

  One of the Cleaners was listening anxiously to her walkie-talkie. ‘It sounds like some abnormals might be preparing to try and disrupt the crushing,’ she said tersely. ‘We must not fail our glorious President.’

  ‘Don’t worry yourself, dear,’ said Kopy Kat, patting the Cleaner’s cheek patronisingly. ‘Is all part of my master plan, yes? Go and wait in that classroom there.’ She pointed to the first door in the main hallway. ‘Soon I will be bringing you a tasty little morsel. It will make Glorious President very happy, trust me.’

  The two Cleaners saluted smartly and about-turned. ‘Not a sound!’ Kopy Kat called after them as they marched to the deserted room. ‘Waiting in there very quietly for me, OK?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am,’ replied the Cleaners, who had been instructed by Nicholas Knox himself to obey this woman without question.

  As the door closed behind them, Katerina moved over to a wooden crate near the front doors and turned a latch. A wooden flap fell open and there was a faint ‘snee’ from inside. ‘Yes, my precious. Snee,’ she soothed. ‘I need you to keep the little Heroes busy for me, OK? So I can grab one of them. They’ll be here any minute now.’

  She sauntered over to the rear wall of the reception area, leaned against it and turned herself into a blue plastic chair. The chair emitted a sly chuckle. This was going to be fun.

  14

  The Curse of the Flying Wombat

  The five Super Zeroes, followed closely by Mr Flash, peered around the corner into the reception area of The School. It was large and dimly lit, the only windows being the frosted glass in the large double doors that led out to the front yard. The room was deserted save for a few chairs, a desk against one wall and a wooden crate standing incongruously on the floor near the main doors.

  ‘I don’t like this,’ complained Hilda. ‘It’s too easy. What’s going on?’

  Nellie squeaked in agreement, and one of Billy’s fingers inf lated as their footsteps rang eerily in the silent space.

  There was a shuffling noise from up ahead, and a muffled squeaking. Everyone froze.

  ‘What was that?’ whispered Murph, dropping into a combat-style crouch despite his total lack of any martial arts ability. It made him feel a bit better, though.

  ‘There’s something heeeeere,’ whimpered Billy, two more of his fingers ballooning. ‘Something creeeeepy’s here, I can feeeeel it. We’re gonna diiiiiiiiie.’

  They ducked behind the disused computer desk and peered out. The scuffling and squeaking continued, echoing back from the silent walls.

  ‘Creeepy creepy creeperson,’ moaned Billy. ‘I hate this!’

  Murph shushed him with a hand, peering at the wooden crate. A flap was open at the end nearest to them, and inside he could make out two tiny points of light. ‘Look,’ he hissed at Hilda, who was crouching beside him. ‘There’s something there!’

  ‘It’s a cat!’ exclaimed Hilda. A fuzzy face gradually became visible in the gloom as the mysterious creature inched towards them.

  ‘It’s a bat!’ contradicted Billy.

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ countered Hilda. ‘What sort of bat walks on four legs?’

  ‘Wom!’ said Murph suddenly.

  ‘What do you mean, “wom”?’ Hilda asked.

  ‘That’s the sort of bat that walks on four legs,’ Murph replied, pointing. The animal was now out in the open, regarding them with its bright little button eyes and sniffling its nose adorably.

  ‘A wombat?’ said Hilda. ‘Well, that’s something you don’t see every day. Unless, you know, you’re a wombat who runs a mirror shop.’

  There was a click from somewhere close by. The wombat crouched lower and began to quiver. Its eyes lit up an eerie red colour. ‘Oh noooo, now it’s gone all creepy again,’ wailed Billy.

  ‘WHAT THE BLITHERING BLAZES IS THIS LITTLE FUZZ-MUPPET DOING ’ERE?’ bulldozed Mr Flash, stepping out into the open and walking confidently towards the wombat, which was now baring its surprisingly large teeth and making a noise that sounded a lot like ‘Snee … ackackackack … snee’.

  ‘I’m not entirely certain that’s a good idea, Mr Flash,’ Hilda began.

  ‘PSHAW!’ cannoned Mr Flash back over his shoulder. ‘DON’T BE SUCH A PATHETIC PANGOLIN. I’LL HAVE THIS LITTLE POMPOM DEALT WITH IN TWO SHAKES OF A LAMB’S …’

  But they never discovered which particular part of a lamb Mr Flash thought could be the most rapidly agitated. With a rousing battle cry of ‘Snee!’ the Combat Wombat launched itself into the air and attached itself firmly to Mr Flash’s moustache.

  ‘GAAAAAH! MAYDAY! MAYDAY!’ sputtered Mr Flash as he staggered backwards, the wombat worrying at his facial hair like a terrier with a gravy-soaked sponge. ‘GERRIROFAMEE!’

  ‘Sorry, what?’ said Hilda, dithering nearby. ‘I didn’t catch the last bit.’

  ‘GET!’ roared Mr Flash, lifting the wombat up slightly by the tail to leave his mouth unimpeded for roaring ME!’ purposes, ‘IT OFF OF

  ‘Oh, right!’ said Hilda brightly. ‘Roger, wilco. Who wants to take this one? My horses are probably still a bit tired after their key-retrieval mission.’

  ‘I could have a go?’ suggested Billy, screwing his face up.

  ‘NO, BILLY!’ yelled Murph quickly. They were already battling a berzerk wombat – the last thing they needed was to be suddenly battling a giant berzerk wombat. ‘I’ll have a go myself,’ decided Murph, looking around the desk for anything that might prove a useful ant i-marsupial projectile. ‘Nellie – you make sure nobody else is coming down the passageway to attack us from behind. Mary – help her!’ he told them. Out of the corner of his eye he saw them dash back to
the corner and take up defensive positions.

  Mr Flash, meanwhile, was having a bad day. After five months of living rough in the woods, today he had been trodden on, he was having to follow his least-favourite students on a Hero mission, and he had just realised he had left his friend Captain Conker behind in the forest. Now, to add injury to insult, a crazed wombat was making a spirited attempt to gnaw his face off. His day was not improved when a large box of paper clips hit him squarely on the forehead.

  ‘OUCH!’ complained Mr Flash as best he could through a faceful of wombat.

  ‘Sorry!’ replied Murph. ‘My bad! I’ll aim more carefully with the next one. Could you just duck slightly, Mr Flash? To the left a bit? That should do it.’

  ‘Snee!’ complained the wombat as Murph’s next office-based projectile – a heavy dictionary – hit its wombatty posterior. It loosened its hold on Mr Flash’s moustache enough for the teacher to wrench it off and throw it away from him as if it were an apple he’d just taken a bite out of before realising it was on fire.

  The wombat skidded on the tiled hallway floor, red eyes glowing and claws scrabbling as it turned 180 degrees and crouched ready for another spring, ‘snee’-ing like crazy.

  The Noise Wombats Make: Full Disclosure.

  At this point in the story we feel we should admit that we are not exactly sure what kind of noise wombats make. On the internet it says they can do a kind of pig’s squeal, as well as grunting noises, a low growl, a hoarse cough, and a clicking noise. But we have never actually heard a wombat do any of those things. This particular wombat made a noise that sounds like ‘Snee’ because we made it up that way, which is the great advantage of fictional wombats. They can make any noise you like. We could have made one up that went ‘Hot patootie, bless my socks, I’m a wombat not a fox’ but that would have been stupid. Anyway – are you enjoying the book? It’s good, isn’t it! Remember not to think about rabbits when things get really dramatic, won’t you. You’ll spoil it for all the other readers.

  Love,

  Chrigory and Gregstopher

  ‘DUCK! IT’S COMING ROUND FOR ANOTHER PASS!’ bellowed Mr Flash, for some unknown reason talking about the wombat as if it were strafing them with bullets from an aeroplane.

  ‘Billy!’ yelled Murph. ‘I’ve changed my mind! Balloon this!’ He had found his best desk-based weapon yet – one of those massive staplers. The ones you use when you really want something to know it’s been stapled, and darn well stay stapled. He launched it into the air towards Mr Flash.

  ‘Gotcha!’ replied Billy, diving forward and concentrating on the stapler.

  ‘SNEEEEEE!’ squealed the wombat, gnashing its teeth frantically. It jumped straight for Mr Flash’s face in what could have been quite a horrific scene, not at all suitable for the target age group of this book.

  ‘FLURP!’ went the stapler as Billy’s Capability hit it and it inf lated to several times its normal size, still spinning through the air towards Mr Flash’s meaty, outstretched hand.

  ‘Fhwzzzzzzz,’ went the air through the wombat’s wiry fur as it streaked towards Mr Flash.

  ‘Ching,’ went the giant stapler as it connected with Mr Flash’s hand in a perfect catch.

  ‘HAVE A SLICE OF PAIN PIE, FUZZ BUCKET!’ went Mr Flash as he swung the stapler like a giant metal baseball bat.

  IMPORTANT NOTE:

  NO WOMBATS WERE HARMED DURING

  THE WRITING OF THIS BOOK

  ‘Ker-CLOOOOONNNGGGGGGGG!’ went the stapler as it connected with the wombat.

  ‘Ouch. That really, really hurt quite considerably,’ went the wombat’s internal monologue.

  Wombats are not the most aerodynamic marsupial; that honour belongs to the duck-billed platypus. But to give it credit, this particular wombat flew quite impressively, sailing through the air like a tennis ball – only a large, brown, hairy one with eyes – forming a perfect parabola until it came to rest in a large bin with a hugely pleasing rattle’n’squeak.

  ‘Let’s go! Before that wombat gets out of the bin!’ yelled Murph – the first and only time he uttered that sentence in his entire life. ‘Mary, keep watching the rear. Come and join us when the coast’s clear. The rest of you … Let’s get out there and get the Banshee back!’

  Murph, Hilda, Nellie, Billy and Mr Flash moved to the front doors and slipped through.

  Mary had a last look back up the hallway and turned to follow them. A small part of her brain was trying to tell her something, and the something was this: ‘You’ve never seen that blue plastic chair there before.’ But her main brain control centre did not pay much attention to this memo. It didn’t seem relevant, given the seriousness of their mission. This was a great pity, because as she began to cross the room to catch up with the other Heroes, she was suddenly grabbed from behind. A hand was placed over her mouth and she was dragged backwards into the nearest classroom.

  ‘Well, well, well,’ said a woman’s voice in a strange accent. ‘Look what we caught ourselves here.’

  Mary was pushed roughly to the ground, but she twisted back around frantically to see who had captured her. Standing behind her in the doorway was a woman with a pointed nose and a mocking expression.

  Mary shook her head to try and clear it. ‘But… where did you come from? There was nothing there … except a chair!’

  The woman tilted her head to one side. ‘Blue chair, yes? Chair a bit like this one?’ Quick as lightning, the woman melted and turned herself into the blue plastic chair before regaining her human form once again. Mary’s eyes widened in shock, but before she could shout a warning the woman snapped ‘Hold her!’ and Mary was lifted from the floor by the two Cleaners who had been waiting in the classroom. Another hand was shoved over her mouth, muffling her sudden cry of realisation.

  ‘Kopy Kat!’ said Mary desperately, though through the hand it sounded like ‘Mmfy Mmpp!’, which was no help to anybody.

  ‘Nice to meet you too, girly,’ replied Katerina. ‘Let’s have a look at you, then.’ She fixed Mary with a penetrating gaze, holding out a finger and thumb, as if she were planning to paint a portrait of her. ‘You’re quite pretty, you know, dear,’ she said. ‘Maybe lose the glasses, eh?’

  Mary was just readying a particularly sarcastic and cutting retort to this unwanted and frankly incorrect advice, when something happened that stopped her speaking. In fact, it robbed the breath from her throat and left her brain reeling as the full extent of Kopy Kat’s plan hit her.

  The woman concentrated briefly, then melted once more. Her face ran like warm candle wax, and even her clothes rippled, as if they were surrounded by a powerful heat haze. Kopy Kat shrank, her hair waving like sea snakes as her black overalls morphed into a copy of Mary’s yellow raincoat. Black boots appeared on her feet and a pair of large round glasses appeared from nowhere in front of her eyes, which were suddenly no longer blue and piercing but brown and kindly.

  ‘What do you think?’ asked the woman, who was now the perfect mirror image of Mary. ‘I don’t think your little friends will ever tell the difference, yes?’

  ‘Mmmff mff mmmf mmmffff!!’ Mary struggled, but the Cleaners’ strong hands were still gripping tight to her upper arms and covering her mouth. She couldn’t turn, let alone escape.

  ‘See you later, dear,’ said the other Mary, patting her cheek on the way out. The real Mary heard her fake boots clumping across the hall towards the front doors.

  ‘Make yourself comfortable,’ said a deep voice from behind her. ‘You’ll be staying with us for a little while.’ The Cleaner gave a cruel, guttural chuckle.

  The front yard of The School was crowded with people. Closest to the front doors, with their backs to the Super Zeroes, were several Cleaners. And in the middle of them was something that made Nellie catch her breath in shock. The Banshee had been placed in the centre of the yard, its silvery-blue fuselage catching the light. But that wasn’t what had made Nellie gasp. Towering above their flying car was an enormous crane. Dangling from i
t was a gigantic block of concrete, the same size as the Banshee itself.

  ‘They’re going to drop it!’ breathed Hilda furiously. ‘They’re going to crush our Banshee!’

  ‘They most certainly are not!’ said Nellie, her normally gentle voice suddenly coated with steel.

  ‘What’s the plan, then, chief?’ Billy asked Murph. ‘Looks like there are a lot of guards out there.’

  ‘And a lot of witnesses as well,’ added Hilda, pointing.

  Sure enough, beyond the Banshee and the Cleaners stood a long line of photographers, camera crews and reporters. Murph was startled to see the two breakfast TV presenters who had interviewed Knox all those months before. A ripple of applause began as the smartly dressed, neat-haired hosts walked robotically towards a podium in front of the Banshee and the assembled media.

  ‘They’re hosting this?!’ remarked Murph. ‘Mary, nudge the door a bit so we can hear. Mary?’ He looked over his shoulder to see Mary approaching across the hall. ‘Where have you been?’ he hissed.

  ‘Just checking we’re not being followed,’ said Mary, smiling brightly at him. ‘It’s all clear.’ Murph nodded, and pushed his head round the door to hear what was being said.

  ‘Our glorious President, Nicholas Knox, has brought us all here today, in front of this dangerous artefact, to show us the true extent of the threat to our nation,’ began clean-cut Ben Boxall.

  ‘Oh, here we go,’ sighed Murph. ‘Another victim of Knox’s mind control.’

  ‘In the wrong hands,’ continued Ben’s co-host, Julia Reynolds, ‘we dread to think what havoc could be wrought upon good, kind, unsuspecting members of the public by this metal menace.’

  ‘Ugh. I’m going to throw up,’ said Nellie. ‘Come on, let’s get out there and put a stop to this.’

  ‘Mr Flash,’ said Murph quietly. ‘I don’t suppose there’s any chance you could create a diversion?’

  The teacher’s eyes glittered.