Hamish and the Neverpeople

by Danny Wallace

  Number One. No. 1.

  Alex’s codename – No One!

  ‘It’s never too late, Number Two!’ yelled Alex.

  Hamish thought if you could accuse anyone of being a number two, it was Scarmarsh.

  ‘GET OUT OF THE WAY OR I’LL LET THE KIDS HAVE IT!’ shouted Scarmarsh, and the Hypnobot stepped forward with an angry CLANK and cracked its metal knuckles.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ whispered Holly, moving away from the chairs. ‘Why doesn’t he just zap Alex and then get our parents?’

  She had a point. All Scarmarsh had to do was press that button. As soon as he did, Alex would be zapped and blanked and harmless.

  But she wasn’t budging. Was she mad? Or just really brave?

  ‘OUT OF THE WAY RIGHT NOW, ALEX!’ yelled Scarmarsh, almost pleading with her. ‘I AM GOING TO ZAP THE AGENTS AND I AM GOING TO ZAP THE KING!’

  ‘No you’re not,’ replied Alex. ‘Not while I’m standing here, Axel!’

  This was madness! She was a sitting duck!

  And that was when Hamish had a revelation. Number One.

  Number Two.

  Alex.

  Axel.

  ‘ALEX IS SCARMARSH’S OTHERHALF!’ yelled Hamish, so loudly and with such force that everyone turned round.

  ‘How did you get free?’ yelled Scarmarsh, panicking. Then he caught sight of the screen. Hamish’s dad had zapped all the Terribles who were surrounding the King and was now ushering the PDF and Les through the doors of Buckingham Palace to safety. He was escaping! Time was running out! Holly’s mum was right behind them, walking backwards and zapping any monsters who tried to get near them.

  ‘NOOOO!’ yelled Scarmarsh, ‘Hypnobots! Line up another satellite!’

  A second huge dish began to rotate and shake. This one was nowhere near Alex. It was now pointing straight down towards Hamish’s dad!

  This would be the end of the grown-ups. Just as it had been the end of poor Alice and Alan.

  Which is when Hamish had an idea. An idea that was almost too unbearable to think about.

  His head whipped round to see Alex, still standing outside, blocking the first zapper.

  She stared back at him. She knew exactly what he was thinking.

  Looking deep into his eyes, she half smiled and nodded, giving him permission.

  No, thought Hamish. I can’t.

  But Hamish knew what had to be done. He had to save his dad. He had to save the world.

  And, as the Terribles stepped towards him and his friends, and, as the huge satellite got ready to blast his father, Hamish made a dash for it.

  ‘STOP HIM!’ screamed Scarmarsh. ‘STOP HIIIIIIM!’

  The Hypnobot clanked towards him, angry eyes whirring, and as it lurched forward its metal fingers grasped the back of Hamish’s shoe for a moment . . .

  But Hamish was too fast.

  He DIVED for the big green button on the trolley . . .

  . . . and slapped it down!

  The Tower began to shake and shimmy.

  And shake.

  AND SHIMMY.

  Alex shut her eyes.

  And . . .

  ZAP!

  The brightest whitest light flashed full on round the Post Office Tower. So bright, and so white, and so light that the whole building glowed for a moment, like a massive lightsabre rooted to the ground.

  Windows shook, desks rattled, chairs rolled round the room . . .

  Buster smashed the fire alarm with his elbow and all the water sprinklers went off!

  Well, Terribles hate water, don’t they?

  They began to pound around, terrified and steaming and screaming, finding fire exits and scrambling for the stairs.

  Hypnobots don’t much like water either, and they began jangling and juddering madly about, fizzing and sparking, circuit boards closing down, their camera shutters clicking shut like they were going to sleep. Forever!

  And outside stood Alex, still on a window cleaner’s swaying cradle, now completely still.

  Expressionless.

  Motionless.

  Blanked.

  Which meant that . . .

  ‘Scarmarsh?’ said Hamish, walking over to the crumpled wet heap on the floor. ‘Scarmarsh?’

  Axel Scarmarsh slowly stood up.

  He stared at Hamish Ellerby.

  Had Alex’s sacrifice worked? Had Scarmarsh been blanked?

  ‘I have always thought,’ he said, very slowly, and so intimidatingly that Hamish and Holly held their breath, ‘that I should like to take up badminton.’

  The kids raised their eyebrows.

  ‘Badminton?’ said Holly, and she nudged Hamish, smiling.

  It had worked!

  It had all worked!

  But there was still something left to do.

  ‘Holly, Bella – tie Scarmarsh up,’ said Hamish, his hair now soaked from the water sprinklers. ‘Tie him up really well.’

  ‘I’m brilliant with knots,’ said Bella. ‘Unlike somebody I know.’

  ‘Talking of Buster,’ said Hamish, ‘do you think you can work out a way of reversing the zaps, B?’

  Buster thought of poor Alice and Alan. Of Alex, standing in the wind outside. And of all the other people around the world who’d been blanked by this evil nitwit.

  ‘I’ll do my best, H,’ he said, scowling at Scarmarsh.

  He just smiled back and said, ‘Badminton is such a wonderful team game!’

  Down below, three miles away, Hamish’s dad stared straight up at the Post Office Tower.

  All of London had watched it shake and glow. The police were on their way now. The army too. And the navy. And the Blue Arrows. And Wilf, the security guard from the shop on the corner.

  Hamish watched his dad’s face on the giant screen, and stroked it.

  His dad seemed to look straight at him, and smile.

  Unbelievable!

  Hamish and Holly ran.

  They ran and they ran and they ran.

  They ran not because they had to, but because, for once, they wanted to.

  Hamish’s heart was pounding as they picked up a couple of the bikes you could hire from street racks. He’d do anything to get to Buckingham Palace faster!

  Buster and Bella had stayed in the Post Office Tower, doing their best to find a way of reversing the effects of Scarmarsh’s rays, and Hamish would have stayed too – but he was too excited.

  He was going to see his dad!

  Buster had made sure that Scarmarsh was tied up. The last thing he wanted was to reverse the rays and let him escape. The police had made it to the bottom floor and were walking up the 842 stairs of the Tower as quickly as they could, which was not very quickly at all, to be honest, because none of them had ever been on a stair-climbing course.

  Hamish whizzed through the streets towards the palace. And as he made it into Green Park . . .

  ‘Hamish!’ came a voice. A voice Hamish had not heard in so long, but which made his whole soul sing.

  There he was.

  His dad. As tall as ever. Slightly crumpled.

  Hamish took him in for a second because just to be able to look at him again meant everything. He’d dreamt of this moment since Boxing Day.

  His dad’s dark eyes. His slightly sticky-out ears. The sideburns he’d never get quite even.

  ‘DAD!’ cried Hamish, jumping off the bike. ‘DAD!’

  ‘MUM!’ shouted Holly, throwing her bike to one side too.

  Holly’s mum stood next to Hamish’s dad and kneeled down, arms wide open. The two kids ran to their parents and were swept up in the biggest, hugest hugs in the history of hugs on Earth. This Earth and Otherearth.

  ‘I got here as quickly as I could,’ said his dad. ‘Oh, Hamish!’

  His dad was breathing him in, not wanting to let him go even for a second.

  ‘You are the bravest, most wonderful boy in the world. Well done, Hamish. You did it. You’re my hero, son.’

  Hamish squeezed his dad harder, tears formin
g at the corner of his eyes.

  Holly hugged her mum just as hard.

  ‘Scarmarsh is in the Post Office Tower,’ said Hamish, wiping a tear away. ‘He’s tied up. Buster’s trying to find the Reverse button!’

  And, as he said that, a bright white pulse . . .

  ZAPPED

  . . . from all sides of the Tower.

  BOOOOOOOM!

  Trees swayed from the power of it. Everyone’s hair lifted and settled. The zap travelled from the Post Office Tower to every corner of London.

  Six hundred and eight-three miles away, in Germany, the Berlin TV tower received the zap and passed it on . . .

  Eight hundred and twenty-five miles further on, in Kiev, the city’s giant tower took the zap and immediately sent it far south, to the Auckland Sky Tower in New Zealand . . .

  The reverse zap bounced and pinged its way around the world, undoing Scarmarsh’s work, freeing the Neverpeople and their otherhalves on Earth . . .

  Had it worked, though? Could it really have worked?

  ‘Hamish?’

  Hamish spun round. Opening the door of his dad’s Vauxhall Vectra was . . . Alice Shepherd.

  ‘What happened?’ she said, dazed. ‘Did we stop Scarmarsh?’

  ‘ALICE!’ said Hamish.

  Behind her, Alan stumbled out, tripping on a stone.

  ‘Someone needs to put up a “Tripping Hazard” sign here,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘Can someone find me a cone or something? We need to cordon this whole park off.’

  Hamish was filled with joy. They’d done it. Really and truly, they’d done it.

  Ten minutes later, to the cheers of everyone, Buster and Bella rode up on bikes. Alex had stayed behind to make sure the police took Scarmarsh away.

  ‘Good work, everyone,’ said Hamish’s dad, proudly, and squeezing his son’s shoulder. ‘I think the future of Belasko is safe with you.’

  ‘Can we go home now, Dad?’ said Hamish, pleased that he was back to being someone’s son again, rather than a sort of miniature freedom fighter.

  The world was peaceful again.

  ‘Sometimes, I didn’t think I’d be able to come back, Hamish,’ said Dad. ‘But you made it so that I could.’

  Hamish smiled.

  ‘Does that mean we can watch Star Wars now?’ he said, and his dad picked him up and hugged him again.

  Buses tooted. Birds sang. A light breeze washed over them. It was a beautiful day in otherLondon again, and nothing was going to spoil it.

  ‘I’ve only got one question,’ said Hamish, thinking. ‘What on earth was Mysterio’s accent supposed to be?’

  Buster laughed. Alice nearly spat out the kebab she’d found from goodness knows where.

  ‘Elliot did say there’d be one extra bit to Scarmarsh’s evil plan,’ said Hamish, shaking his head. ‘That’s the problem with bad guys. They always think there’s one last twist to be had, and—’

  But, as he was about to finish, the world began to rumble and quake . . . Instinctively, they turned to stare up at the Post Office Tower. Something seemed off.

  ‘No,’ said Holly’s mum, gravely, noticing it too. ‘It’s not possible . . .’

  The very top of the Tower now began to vibrate and shake.

  Huge blocks of concrete started to tumble from underneath it. Windows were splintering. Satellite dishes falling.

  ‘What’s happening?’ said Bella. ‘Is it destroying itself?’

  Now it began to twist. The top of the Tower was pulling away from the rest of it! The world got noisier as a great filled the air.

  More concrete fell as clouds of dust formed round the Tower’s shaft. Huge, fiery boosters – like the ones you get on the bottom of a space shuttle – flapped out and began shooting flames . . .

  And the top of the Post Office Tower detached from the rest of it!

  ‘Scarmarsh!’ said Hamish’s dad. ‘He’s escaping!’

  The top of the Tower hovered for a few seconds, right there in the air – a building floating above London!

  And then those boosters fired harder, and the Tower began to rise, rise, rise!

  It shot off with a BOOM, straight up in the air, high above the city, getting smaller and smaller and smaller as it headed towards the very edge of space . . .

  Scarmarsh was gone.

  That Went Well!

  ‘Hello, and welcome to a very special edition of Question Me Silly,’ said Elydia Exma, looking straight into the camera. ‘Which for the second time comes to you from the small town of Starkley.’

  Everyone had turned up.

  It was a week later, and this was going to be a really special day.

  For lots of reasons.

  When Hamish and his dad got home to Starkley, his mum had been at the door with a chocolate Mustn’tgrumble and a shocked look on her face. As the Vectra pulled into the driveway, she’d dropped her cup of tea and run for the car.

  ‘JIMMY!’ she shouted, not quite believing it herself. ‘JIMMY, DAD’S HOME!’

  Jimmy bolted from the door and the four Ellerbys hugged each other, tight.

  Jimmy kissed Hamish’s hair.

  ‘You brought Dad home,’ he said. ‘Thank you, Hamish!’

  Hamish’s dad smiled and pulled out a small plastic bag.

  ‘I remembered the ice cream,’ he said. ‘Sorry it’s a bit late, Jimmy.’

  Now here they were – the Ellerby family – sitting in the town square, right in the front row of the audience for Question Me Silly: A Celebration.

  Alex was here. Scarmarsh may have escaped thanks to a Terrible who’d worked out how to use an umbrella and braved the water sprinklers, but the moment the zap was reversed, Alex abseiled down the wires of the cradle, seconds before the Tower took off.

  Here was brave Alice too. And brave Holly. They now got on like a house on fire. Alice had even convinced Holly she didn’t need that RevengePad any more. And, now that her mum was back, Holly didn’t feel she needed it either. That was the old her. In fact, she’d replaced it with a ComplimentPamphlet.

  ‘It’s a small book in which I write down nice things people have done for me so I can do something nice in return one day,’ she told Elaine.

  ‘Why?’ said Elaine.

  ‘Because . . . oh, never mind.’

  There was Buster too. And Bella. And Clover. And Colin. And Alan, and all the members of the PDF.

  Above them, the six ravens of the Tower of London swooped and cawed.

  Even King Les the Second had dropped by, with a very special announcement: from now on, Starkley would be known as Royal Starkley!

  But, as he wasn’t the King in this world, no one really knew whether to take that seriously or not. So it was lucky that when the Queen arrived, and saw the signs had already been done, she rolled her eyes and said, ‘Go on then . . .’

  As the cameras rolled, Prime Minister Ernst Ding-Batt cleared his throat, stroked his impressive beard and stood up.

  ‘Not for the first time, our world has been saved by some of the bravest children on the planet,’ he said. ‘And I say that as a very tall man indeed, who owns a poodle.’

  ‘Show us your pants!’ yelled Madame Cous Cous, cheekily.

  ‘And as I talk to the world today,’ said the PM, ignoring her, ‘on this programme, which is being beamed all over this Earth and whatever other Earths there may or may not be, thanks to the wonders of some very big towers and satellite dishes, I would like to say one thing . . .’

  Everyone waited for the one thing he was going to say. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be about his undercrackers again.

  ‘And I would like to be absolutely clear about this,’ he said, pointing an important finger.

  Everyone waited for him to be absolutely clear.

  ‘And let me be clear, when I say absolutely clear – I mean clear in the most absolutely clearest way possible . . . and not unclear in any sense of the word or phrase!’

  He looked at Hamish.

  ‘Thank you, Hamish and frien
ds, from everybody on the planet. Each of you has different strengths. You used them together for the good of man and womankind.’

  ‘Imagine having a man Prime Minister,’ said Holly, shaking her head. ‘Will wonders never cease?’

  And everybody applauded.

  Hamish sat on the grass of the town square with his friends as King Les the Second started the karaoke.

  The world was back to normal.

  Except for the fact that a King from another dimension was doing karaoke.

  But anyone who’d been blanked by Scarmarsh simply picked up where they’d left off. The Minister of Defence no longer spun round in her chair all the time. Vapidia Sheen got a new job hosting Britain’s Brainiest Boffins and Brainboxes. That newsreader stopped crying because no one would buy him a pony. And the head of the army came to his senses immediately.

  Although one week later he did end up buying a cat and calling him Poopy.

  Hamish’s dad sat down on the grass with him. He pulled a Chomp out of his pocket and handed it to his son.

  ‘Thanks, Dad,’ said Hamish.

  He was so pleased to be able to say that again. And to have someone to play Boggle with at night.

  But he still had a question.

  ‘Dad, are you . . .’ He paused because he didn’t quite know how to say it. ‘Are you back for good?’

  His dad smiled.

  ‘There might be times when I have to disappear for a while,’ he said. ‘The fight continues.’

  ‘With Scarmarsh?’

  ‘Not just Scarmarsh,’ said Dad. ‘But his masters.’

  ‘His masters?’ said Hamish, horrified.

  His dad made a comforting face.

  ‘You know how I always used to say I was “in sales”?’ he said, and Hamish nodded. ‘Well, let’s just say Scarmarsh was in “middle management”. There are also what are known as “Superiors”. We’ve been fighting them since the Before. Now is the Now. And as for the Then . . . we’ll wait and see. Scarmarsh was desperate to impress his Superiors. They knew what he was up to, but they won’t let him fail again. The Superiors want to take our world, H. We can’t let them.’

  ‘When you say “we”, do you mean Belasko?’ asked Hamish.