His brain seized upon the lovely new oxygen that had found its way back into his bloodstream, and Nelson experienced his first real thought since falling into the ocean, and it was this: being admired by fish did have its perks after all.
‘Stan!’ cried Nelson, but there was no sign of his little red monster.
The tower of fish flapped their tails and squirmed among each other before slowly dropping back towards the water.
‘No! Please, I need to get to the land!’ cried Nelson.
But he needn’t have bothered. The fish knew very well where their human friend needed to go, and it certainly wasn’t back into the ocean.
Though his body was now submerged from the waist down, Nelson felt a gentle pressure on the small of his back, and suddenly he was moving forwards. He looked over his shoulder and could see the ripples of fish beneath the surface driving him towards the shore. Nelson shook his head and felt his ears clear of seawater. He flicked his wet fringe out of his eyes. It was still dark. There were no signs of human life, no cities or streets . . . but a distant volcano was painting the clouds red.
THE RACE TO THE VOLCANO
The volcano. The sight of it brought Nelson back to his senses. They were here to throw Buzzard into the volcano so that the monster would follow him to its death. But where was Buzzard now? Where was the monster? And where were his own monsters?
Nelson felt a forceful jolt from behind and he was flung forward on to a narrow rocky ridge. Once he had managed to hold on tight, Nelson turned back to thank the fish, but before he could, he was hit in the face by a very large wave. By the time Nelson had shaken the water and foam out of his ears and eyes, the fish were gone, and another wave was on its way. Nelson braced himself and let the wave smash into him before trying to climb up the rock face.
Reaching up, his fingers scraped around to find another ledge to cling to, but his hands were too numb to feel anything. Another wave flattened him against the rock. Once again he spat out the seawater and reached up, but his numb fingers found nothing but slippery hopelessness. Yet another wave came, crushing him against the rock, and the suck of the undertow almost pulled him back out to sea.
He was frozen to the bone and trapped on a rock being pounded by wave after punishing wave when the biggest wave of all arrived. He couldn’t hold on and, once again, he was underwater, only this time he was moving upwards with the wave. When it subsided, Nelson was left lying face down on top of the rock.
‘Master Nelson!’ came the unmistakeable hissing tones of Miser.
Nelson almost cried out with happiness.
‘You’re hurt . . . I shall find you something . . .’ said Miser, who began to do something Nelson had never seen him do before. Miser took a great deep breath, closed his mouth, held his nose and appeared to sneeze violently without letting any air escape from the usual exits. Now, if you or I did that, we would make our ears pop, but Miser made all of the pockets in his blue body turn inside out.
Everything he had stolen in goodness knows how long came tumbling out of his body. Wallets, phones, cutlery, mirrors, jewellery, money, flashlights, shoelaces, keys and, most importantly of all, a little bottle containing Spike’s cactus juice.
‘Aha! There it is, Master Nelson! Drink a little and you will be re-energized! Now, I must join the others,’ said Miser unscrewing the cap and running out of sight.
Nelson’s whole body shook as he put the little bottle to his lips and took a sip.
Once again, the effect of the cactus juice was instantaneous. The achiness in his muscles was kicked out, and his circulation ramped back up to speed so that the cold seemed to melt away. Energy and heat flowed from his stomach in every direction until his entire body tingled with the kind of excitement you get when you wake up on Christmas morning, reach out into the darkness and feel a stocking bulging with presents.
That’s when he saw Crush. Crush was running as fast as he could away from the shore towards the volcano.
‘Crush! Wait! Wait for me!’ shouted Nelson, but his voice was drowned out by the ear-splitting scream of Buzzard’s monster. Nelson turned in time to see it skimming over the ocean and flying towards him.
There was a sound like the crack of a whip, and when Nelson opened his eyes, he saw Miser clinging on to the abomination like a rubbery necklace.
As Miser and the abomination landed, Miser dug his feet into the ground and pulled against Buzzard’s monster with all his might. His tentacles stretched until they were almost as thin as kite strings, but Miser did not let go until the abomination turned to spew frost and ice into Miser’s face.
Miser was sent flying back towards the ocean, and the monster tumbled forwards.
‘RUN, CRUSH!’ bellowed Miser, and Crush turned to face him. Even though Crush had gained a great deal of distance, Nelson could now see he was clutching something tightly to his chest with all four arms.
‘Curse you, Christopher Wren! ’Tis all your fault that I am in this dire pickle of pickles!’ cried Buzzard.
Crush still had hold of the little toy rhino containing Buzzard’s soul and was running as fast as he could towards the volcano. There was still a chance the plan could work if only Crush could get there before the monster caught him.
Miser shook off the ice mask the abomination had given him, and sprang forwards using his ever-so-long arms like a monkey (only with octopus-style tentacles instead of hairy arms).
It was a race to the volcano. A race Nelson’s monsters were unlikely to win, for the monster flew at breathtaking speed. Only Hoot could move that quickly, and he had a damaged wing and was nowhere to be seen.
‘Typical,’ is what Spike would have said had he not been thawing out. His swollen, leaking body lay just a few feet away on the rocks.
‘Crush! Look out!’ cried Nelson, even though he knew Crush would not be able to hear him.
But Crush did hear him. Not through the air, but through the invisible lines that connected Nelson to all of his monsters, and Crush responded by turning just in time to see the abomination barrelling towards him.
‘HOOOONK!’
‘TO ME!’ came the unmistakeable roar of Stan. He was about one hundred metres to the left of Crush, his eyes glowed red in the dark, and his fists had swollen to twice their normal size. Stan was in his element, even though one of his horns was broken in half.
In that split second before the monster caught up with Crush, Crush gave his beloved little rhino one last big squeeze and threw it to Stan, who jumped, caught it in mid-air, and continued to run towards the volcano. Miser ran straight past Crush, clearly intending to be there to catch Buzzard and carry him further.
In other words, they were playing rugby, only instead of a ball, they were passing a fluffy rhino to each other, and this time the goal wasn’t a white line in the grass, but a live volcano. Nelson could only watch as the monsters sprinted into the distance.
But then again, maybe Nelson didn’t just have to watch. He could help. All he needed was a bit more of a boost, and just the boost he needed was in the bottle he was holding.
He had never taken more than a sip before, and it had been enough to make him feel fantastic. What would happen if he drank the whole bottle? Would he be stronger or would it make him sick?
Nelson put the bottle to his lips and paused.
Was it dangerous to drink more? Would receiving a large dose of Spike’s cactus juice make him pop like a light bulb overloaded with electricity? These are all good and sensible questions to ask in this situation, but Nelson felt that in this case, his own safety was less important than getting that monster into the volcano. So he drank every drop in the bottle.
In the few moments it took for Nelson to push the empty little bottle into the front pocket of his hooded top, his body changed from feeling awful to feeling phenomenal. Warm, strong and lighter than air. He was filled with a thrilling sense of being able to do anything, and just when he thought he could not feel any better, Nelson ran from the spot he’d been
standing in at a speed no human had ever run before. His legs were a blur. His arms pumped faster than the wings of a hummingbird. Nelson was a human rocket on his way to join a game of monster rugby.
‘Stan! To me!’ cried Nelson, and Stan threw Buzzard just as the abomination pounced on top of him. Nelson jumped and found he was flying through the air in a great arc.
‘Waaaaaah!’ cried Nelson, but more out of surprise than fear. He caught Buzzard in mid-air, pulled him to his chest and hit the ground, still running.
Up ahead, the volcano sent a jet of orange lava high into the sky. Usually this volcano would just sizzle and smoke quietly for decades on end, but just as the trees and animals of the world had responded to the presence of Buzzard’s monster, the volcano had too. It stirred and bubbled and boiled, like a soup awaiting the last, essential ingredient.
‘Aaaaargh!’ cried Buzzard, pointing a fluffy arm to the sky, and Nelson turned to see the monster sailing through the air towards them with Stan clinging to its back.
Nelson took off again. It felt so good to run this fast, to be a turbo-charged version of himself. And it wasn’t just his body that felt this way. He felt he could have played the entire world at chess and win. Every Olympic sport could be his to master, and every record could be smashed. He could have painted a masterpiece, written a song that would remain number one around the world for decades, and maybe taken on brain surgery in his spare time. And while Nelson was thinking these things, his legs were carrying him across black volcanic rock that bled red-hot lava.
The boiling red mouth of the volcano was within reach. Nelson felt its heat like an angry slap to his face. The smoke and ash raced into his lungs. He may have been filled with super-human levels of strength, but Nelson was still made of skin and bone, and if he didn’t stop here he would be cooked as quickly as a jacket potato sitting beneath a launching NASA rocket.
It didn’t matter that he couldn’t get closer. With this new strength, he could easily throw Buzzard in from here.
‘Why must I be punished for what I did? Why?! I only wanted to be admired!’ wailed Buzzard. ‘Is it so wrong to want to be loved and worshipped?’
‘Look, I don’t know how else to say this, but your stupid vanity literally became a monster.’
Buzzard said nothing. It was, after all, quite a lot to take in.
‘Now, Master Nelson! Throw it!’
It was Miser, and he was doing an excellent job of keeping up with Nelson while Stan continued to wrestle with the abomination, slowing it down. But it was clear that he wouldn’t be able to hold it back for long.
‘I created this? This abomination was born of my vanity?’ Buzzard was appalled.
‘Yeah, but you could still be a hero, Master Buzzard. A real hero. You just have to be really brave.’
‘The volcano?’ said Buzzard.
Nelson looked down at Buzzard, whom he was holding in his right hand, and nodded.
‘Now, Master Nelson! Now!’ There was panic in Miser’s voice for he could see the monster was winning the battle against Nosh and Stan. A few more seconds and it was bound to break free, and Nelson would not be able to outrun it.
The moment had come for Nelson to finish what they had started. To rid the world of Buzzard’s monster. All he had to do was throw a toy rhino into a volcano.
‘Master Nelson! You must do it now!’ Miser was gesturing wildly towards the abomination, who was gaining the upper hand over Stan with terrible blows.
‘THROW THAT RHINO INTO THE VOLCANO!’ roared Stan.
‘I’m sorry, Master Buzzard,’ said Nelson.
Though the toy rhino was only made of synthetic fibres, Buzzard’s little face appeared to radiate fear. Nelson knew he couldn’t dwell on this and drew back his arm, when suddenly everything went black. He was lying face down against the volcanic rock. The monster had broken free and blasted Nelson to the ground with its freezing breath. A layer of clear ice as thick as a duvet covered Nelson from head to toe. His right arm was stretched out to his side, where Buzzard lay.
The monster saw its prize and knew that it had won.
BUZZARD’S CHOICE
Buzzard had fallen free of the ice and was scrambling to his little fluffy feet.
‘I know now what I must do,’ said Buzzard. ‘Goodbye, giant boy, and thank you.’ Buzzard began to run towards the volcano.
‘BUZZARD!’ screamed the monster as it lurched forwards.
Nelson suddenly moved with such tremendous strength that the ice around him exploded in all directions. The monster jerked backwards and turned to find Nelson had hold of its left wing. The cactus juice was still working wonders as it rushed around Nelson’s body.
The abomination tugged, but Nelson held on tight, and in return for this, Nelson received another blast of icy wind.
Nelson very quickly crouched down behind the wing, protecting himself as much as he could from the blast.
‘RUN, BUZZARD!’ cried Nelson.
‘I’M RUNNING AS FAST AS I CAN!’ cried the little fluffy rhino, whose legs really were a joke. The mouth of the volcano was no more than two hundred metres away, but for legs that small, it might as well have been a mile.
Nelson knew he had only one job to do: hold on.
The monster was not going to play nicely. It slammed its wing down on Nelson as if it were swatting a fly.
I’m fighting a monster with my bare hands! thought Nelson to himself. It was such a spectacular and surprising thing to find himself capable of, that Nelson began to laugh. Every snap of the monster’s beak or swipe of its wings only made Nelson laugh more.
From the monster’s point of view, this situation was incredibly cruel. For hundreds of years it had yearned for Buzzard, and now it was close enough to touch him, but some annoying and very strong little boy was preventing him from doing so. It was these exact thoughts that drove the monster absolutely bananas.
‘BUZZARD!’ it screamed, and another thunderbolt struck Nelson. It didn’t hurt, but it had a momentary stunning effect, making him lose his grip.
The monster had only just managed to spread its wings when Miser, Stan and Crush leaped on top of it.
The sound they made as they all fought to contain the abomination was truly dreadful, howling and screaming with voices that sounded both angry and in pain. Among the terrible din, a little voice called out.
‘I’m so sorry!’ cried Buzzard. He was still running as fast as he could towards the mouth of the volcano. His fur was smoking in places, and his little plastic eyes were starting to melt as he drew nearer. Meanwhile the volcano bubbled and burped, sending jets of liquid fire into the sky.
‘I may have lived the life of a coward! But I hope that I may die a hero!’ Buzzard was almost at the mouth of the volcano. Before him, great towers of steam corkscrewed in the air as they rose from the lava as if to say, ‘Come on in! It’s warm inside!’
‘YOU CAN’T HOLD ON! LET GO!’ cried Nelson, and his monsters fell away from the creature. ‘JUMP, BUZZARD! JUMP!’
Nelson didn’t need to give the command. Buzzard had already decided his fate and he leaped into the steaming hot air. The swirling winds caught him and carried him up and over the mouth of the volcano.
For a moment, Nelson saw the little rhino turn red from the lava below, and then it was gone, followed a split second later by the screaming, hideous monster it had created. The lava swallowed them both up, leaving no trace, not even a bubble on the surface to show that either one had ever existed.
BROKEN MONSTERS
Buzzard was gone. His monster was dead. The world was safe once more. But that did not mean their problems were over. Along with severe bruising and cuts, Stan had lost a horn. Puff was still reeling from the scars he had received earlier, and he had new scars too. Miser had scars to match, though his were purple and covered his face and tentacles, which had been stretched out of shape and lay limp like a skipping rope beside him. It would take a while for these terrible wounds to heal. Crush seemed to be t
he only one who had escaped injury, although he had begun to cry.
‘Crush, it’s OK. It’s over,’ said Nelson. ‘I’ll get you another rhino, just like that one.’
‘Crush ain’t cryin’ over the toy. ’E’s cryin’ cos of Spike,’ said Stan.
‘Where is Spike?’ Nelson looked around. Though the light was scarce, Nelson could see the shape of Hoot standing near the ocean beside a lump that he assumed was Spike.
‘My flying days are over, chaps,’ said Hoot as they all gathered by his side. It really was a sad sight to see him with one wing dragging beside him. ‘And I’m not sure dear Spike will ever be the same again.’
Nelson knelt beside their green friend and touched his flesh. It was thawing but it was still so cold, and there was no sign of life.
‘He just needs warmth,’ said Nelson. ‘Let’s get him closer to the volcano.’
The monsters carried Spike’s body close to a seam in the rock where lava slowly oozed like honey. The heat was tremendous, and they all backed away, shielding their faces.
The first change they saw was in Spike’s eyes, which had been bulging terribly. He blinked, and Nelson and his monsters cheered. Then Spike’s mouth flexed a little as if trying to speak, but before he could say a word, a great hissing sound came from inside his body, and green juice began to spray from all the tiny needles in his skin.
‘Ha ha! He’s coming back to life!’ Nelson said, laughing as juice sprayed everywhere.
‘Water bottle!’ said Nelson, thinking out loud, and dug the little bottle out of the pocket of his hooded sweater.
The Good, the Bad and the Deadly 7 Page 12