The Brain Sucker

by Glenn Wood

  “Callum is a very clever boy who is doing exceptionally well in school. As for his physical needs, I have fitted my house with a wheelchair ramp and widened the doorways, something you should probably do here.”

  The woman held Rose’s gaze for a few seconds then backed away.

  “And how old are you?”

  Rose stiffened. “Old enough to know that you don’t break up a loving family.”

  The woman’s mouth curled briefly into a cynical sneer, then she brought the interview to an end.

  “One of my colleagues will visit your home in three days time at exactly 8 am. She will examine your living conditions and conduct a final interview. If you are found to be unsuitable, the boy will be removed from your care and placed elsewhere. Is that clear?”

  Rose smiled politely. “Crystal. Thank you so much.”

  The welfare officer grabbed the files and swept from the room without another word.

  Rose let out a shuddering sigh and patted Callum on the arm. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Callum thought that was the best idea he’d heard all day.

  Five

  Thirty minutes and five near accidents later, they sat in the driveway of Callum’s cousins’ house at 11 Success Court. Sophie’s mood had brightened as soon as they left the crowds behind, and she was back to her normal confident self.

  “Nice place,” she said, running an appreciative eye over the impressive home.

  Rose tutted. “Yes, but look at the state of the grounds.”

  An assortment of toys were strewn all over the property. An expensive bicycle lay carelessly abandoned in the driveway, and the tip of a skateboard peeked out from underneath a sculptured bush.

  Rose took a deep breath and got out of the car. She and Sophie helped Callum into his chair. Then, with some apprehension, they approached the front door.

  After pressing the bell, they heard what sounded like a war cry, followed by running footsteps and a crash. Rose gave Callum a nervous look.

  A harassed woman in her early thirties opened the door. She wore expensive clothing that had been designed to make the wearer appear casual and relaxed. It wasn’t working. She was tall and thin like Rose but had bags under her eyes and looked tired.

  Rebecca Kinley (nee McCullock) kissed her mother. “You guys had better come in. I can’t leave them alone for long.”

  A loud smash came from within the house. The woman flinched. “Things are a bit hectic. The boys found some fizzy drink I was hiding and have guzzled a litre of lemonade.”

  Sophie and Callum exchanged glances. That didn’t sound good.

  The trail of discarded toys continued indoors.

  “Sorry about the mess,” said Rebecca as she stepped over a miniature tyrannosaurus rex.

  The living room looked like a bomb had exploded there. Several items of furniture had been tipped over, fast-food wrappers littered the floor and the curtains were torn off their rails. A sliding door leading to the backyard was half open.

  The mess was bad enough, but the noise was worse. An Xbox game cycled through a violent opening sequence on the TV, with the volume on full. At the same time an iPod played children’s songs through a high-powered stereo, competing with the TV.

  All of a sudden two children leaped from behind an upturned couch and ran screaming at the stunned visitors. At first Callum thought they were demons. Ugly slashes of black and red face paint marked their faces. The paint hadn’t been applied with any artistic integrity. It was just smeared on. The older of the two was of medium height and weight for a ten-year-old boy. This was Mitchell. He had crafty eyes and brown hair styled to form a ridge on the top of his head. Bradley, his brother, was the fatter of the two. If Mitchell’s eyes were sneaky, then Bradley’s were greedy. His hair was close cropped and made his chubby face look even fatter. Both boys wore stained T-shirts and shorts.

  The two boys were moving quickly, then they stopped just short of Rose, but continued to yell, “RRRAAAARRRRRGGGGGGGG.”

  “Quieten down, boys,” their mother said ineffectually.

  Finally, they ran out of air and stopped screaming. The older boy pointed at Sophie.

  “Who are you?”

  Sophie was taken aback by the abrupt question.

  “I’m Sophie. Didn’t anyone tell you it’s rude to point?”

  Mitchell glared at her, defiant. “Yeah, Mum did, but we ignored her. She’s stupid.”

  Bradley kicked his mother in the ankle, and the two boys ran off laughing. They disappeared into the backyard slamming the sliding door as they went.

  Rebecca hobbled to the upside-down couch and located a remote control unit. She switched off the Xbox and the iPod. Peace descended on the room. Rebecca began turning the furniture back over. Rose and Sophie went to help.

  Rose’s expression was grim. “Rebecca, I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but the boys …”

  Rebecca shook her head and interrupted her mother. Her lips thinned. “I know what you’re going to say. But they’re really good kids. They’re just going through a difficult stage. They don’t have any friends at school and no one wants to play with them any more.”

  Rose said nothing.

  Rebecca carried on. “I’ve tried reasoning with them, but they don’t listen. Besides, they’re not really bad, just a bit boisterous, that’s all.”

  A soccer ball hit the sliding door with a solid thump, causing Sophie to jump. The glass rattled. Bradley ran over to retrieve the ball and looked into the living room. He pulled a face at Rose and poked out his tongue.

  Rebecca ignored her son and wiped her hands on her designer trousers.

  “Now, who’d like a drink of juice and some biscuits?” she said with forced cheerfulness.

  A little later Sophie, Rose and Callum unpacked the car and were shown to their bedrooms. Callum and Rose were sharing a room on the second floor next to Mitchell and Bradley. Sophie was placed in a separate bedroom just across the hall. Rebecca and Ken slept downstairs.

  Callum waited until his grandmother took her afternoon nap, then crossed the hallway and knocked lightly on the door to Sophie’s room.

  She was busting to talk.

  “That was incredible! They are the worst behaved kids I’ve ever seen in my life. Could you imagine living with them?” Sophie said.

  Callum shook his head. “I don’t even want to think about it.”

  “And their mother just lets them get away with it all.”

  “I know. If I’d behaved like that, Gran would have grounded me until I was twenty.”

  “I bet they’ll be in trouble when their dad comes home.”

  Callum made sure the door was shut and wheeled his chair closer to Sophie. He lowered his voice. “I doubt it. Their father’s as soft as a three-week-old banana. You wait until dinner tonight. They’ll be twice as bad.”

  Sophie’s blue bag sat on the end of her bed. She opened it, reached inside and drew out a well-equipped toolkit.

  “Do you think your gran would approve of us teaching your cousins a lesson in good manners?”

  Callum looked carefully at Sophie. “Why? What do you have in mind?”

  Sophie gave a slight shrug and did her best to look innocent. “Oh, nothing much.”

  He noticed she had changed her clothes and was wearing a skirt. That’s weird, he thought, she never wears skirts.

  Sophie sat on the end of the bed with her knees pressed primly together. She waved Callum over and told him to sit with his wheelchair facing her. Callum did as he was told, not sure what to expect.

  “Watch this,” Sophie said. “Let’s pretend you are one of your cousins and have done something incredibly rude.”

  Sophie looked at him sweetly, then twitched her shoulder.

  Suddenly, a wooden spoon attached to the end of a long flexible shaft shot out from under Sophie’s skirt. The spoon snapped out, smacked Callum across the lower leg then disappeared back under the fabric.

  Callum recoiled w
ith surprise. “What the …”

  Callum hadn’t actually felt the smack because of his paralysis, but he knew from the crack of the spoon that it would have really stung.

  Sophie turned so she could show Callum her invention. She pulled her skirt up just above her knee and revealed that she had a device strapped to the outside of her right thigh.

  “I call this ‘the spoon of retribution’. I’ve attached a wooden spoon to a spring-loaded rod. Once the spoon is locked in position, I can fire it by squeezing a pressure pad I’ve rigged under my armpit. Then the spring fires the rod and whack – instant justice.”

  Callum was fascinated. “How’d you get the spoon to move in a smacking motion?”

  “Simple. I put a track in so the rod would take off on an angle. When it’s fully extended, it snaps back in line then retracts. And best of all, when I fire it, my hands are above the table. So I couldn’t possibly have hit anyone.”

  Callum laughed. “You’re an evil genius.”

  “Nah, it’s just simple physics.’

  “It’s pretty cool, but you can only use it if they really deserve it, okay?”

  Sophie smiled innocently. “Of course.”

  Later that afternoon they met Ken. He was exactly as Callum remembered. His hair was lank and floppy. He looked permanently nervous and spoke so softly it was hard to hear him. When Callum shook his hand, it was like squeezing a marshmallow. Even his clothes were insipid.

  As Ken and Sophie talked, the two boys bounced up and down on the living room furniture, firing spit balls at each other. Their father did nothing.

  Before long, dinner was served. It was an impressive spread – chicken casserole accompanied by new potatoes, corn on the cob and green beans. Several loaves of crusty bread sat on cutting boards beside the food. The meal was placed in the middle of the table so people could help themselves.

  Once they had sat down, Rose asked if she could say grace. Rebecca pretended they always did, but the confused looks on her boys’ faces suggested otherwise. Not only did the boys not say grace, but they also helped themselves to the food while Rose spoke.

  Sophie looked at Callum, obviously hoping to get his permission to unleash the spoon. He shook his head.

  Mitchell and Bradley piled their plates with food before anyone else had a chance.

  “What did I tell you boys about waiting for our guests?” Rebecca said, a little too late.

  Mitchell shrugged. “First in, fullest tummy, eh, Bradley?” he said with his mouth full of food.

  Bradley sniggered.

  Ken said nothing. He sat at the end of the table with his head down, avoiding everyone’s eyes.

  Callum watched his grandmother carefully. She remained silent, but Callum could tell she was biting her tongue.

  The trouble really began when Sophie reached for the salt shaker, which sat in the middle of the table. Just as she was about to take hold of it, Mitchell leaned across and grabbed the shaker first. Rose’s eyes narrowed, and Sophie stiffened, while Ken and Rebecca pretended not to see.

  Callum let out a groan. He waited for the smack of the spoon, but surprisingly Sophie did nothing. She withdrew her hand and waited for Mitchell to finish. Mitchell made a big show of taking an inordinately long time to shake the salt over his food. He had a big grin on his face. Callum noticed a tick developing in the corner of Sophie’s eye. She looked across the table at Mitchell.

  “May I have the salt, please?”

  Mitchell ignored her. Bradley tittered.

  Sophie spoke louder this time. “May I have the salt, please?”

  Rebecca looked imploringly at her son. The boy relented and passed the salt to Sophie, but he wasn’t finished yet. When Sophie took the shaker, Mitchell refused to let go of the bottom, and a tug of war began. Enough was enough. Sophie glanced at Callum, and he nodded.

  Sophie’s left arm twitched and Callum let out a loud cough, hoping to cover the sound of the spoon hitting Mitchell’s leg. His timing was perfect, and the snap of wood meeting skin was barely audible.

  He may not have heard it, but Mitchell certainly felt it. He leaped from his chair like a scalded cat and screamed in pain, tears welling in his eyes. His mother looked at him in surprise.

  “Mitchell, what’s the matter?”

  Mitchell pointed at Sophie. “She hit me.”

  Sophie sat quietly on the other side of the table with her hands folded neatly in front of her, an angelic look on her face.

  Rebecca was angry now. “Don’t be ridiculous. Both her hands are on the table.”

  “She kicked me then.”

  “She’s too far away, and I’m sure a nice girl like Sophie wouldn’t dream of doing anything like that.”

  “Of course not, Mrs Kinley,” said Sophie, her voice dripping with honey.

  “She did, she did,” blubbed Mitchell.

  Rebecca looked at her mother and registered the disgust in Rose’s eyes. She had no option but to act. “I’ve just about had enough of you, young man. Straight to bed right now, and no dessert.”

  Mitchell’s jaw dropped. “But …”

  Rebecca stood up. “No arguments. Bed this instant. Isn’t that right, Ken?”

  Rebecca’s husband looked about as comfortable as a man who had fallen into a thistle bush in his pyjamas. He blinked twice. His voice quavered. “That’s right. Listen to your mother.”

  Mitchell stared at his parents in disbelief. Quite clearly, he was hardly ever sent to bed early, and never without dessert. He gave them an imploring look, but his gaze was met with a steely resolve. He was beaten, and he knew it. Mitchell threw one last withering glare at Sophie and then limped off to his bedroom.

  Bradley watched him go, astonished. He sat quietly in his chair not wanting to follow his brother.

  The rest of the meal passed in welcome silence and dessert was brilliant.

  Six

  Lester stood alone in a large laboratory in the underground level of his warehouse lair. He walked over to a toughened glass tank that had been built into the wall. The tank was huge, spanning the length of the room from floor to ceiling. It was filled with thousands of litres of water.

  He tapped the glass and grinned as a little, bright green creature jerked with surprise then swam away from the noise.

  Contained in the tank were the tens of thousands of blobs of goodness that Lester had stolen from the children of the city. They floated in the water like an assortment of lime octopuses, except they didn’t have tentacles. To move about, they expanded and contracted their sleek bodies.

  Lester watched as the blobs circled the tank, pulsing with energy while they searched for a way to escape. He held a remote control in his hand and pushed a button labelled “Hunt”. A concealed trapdoor opened in the bottom of the tank and a clear tube shaped like a torpedo burst into the water. The curved front of the tube opened and it sped towards one of the floating blobs, sluicing water as it went. The terrified blob tried to dodge away, but the torpedo was too fast. The small green being was sucked into the tube, and the lid snapped shut, trapping it inside. The torpedo then returned to its entry point and dropped into a chute below the trapdoor, which rapidly closed.

  Lester moved to a large bench at the far end of his laboratory and pushed a second button on the remote. This one was marked “Display”. A section of the bench slid aside with a hiss, and the torpedo containing the green blob was lifted into the air by a robotic arm. The outer skin of the blob rippled with energy as it pressed against the edge of the tube, trying to escape.

  Lester picked up a dictaphone from the bench, pressed record and spoke calmly into the microphone.

  “Goodness disintegration experiment number two hundred and twelve. Energy bolt.”

  Lester walked to the other end of the bench and picked up a weapon that looked like a cross between a high-powered rifle and a flame thrower. He pulled a power cord from the weapon’s stock and plugged it into a wall socket. The weapon emitted a high-pitched hum then began to
beep. Lester put on a pair of protective goggles then aimed the gun at the torpedo tube. He pulled the trigger, and a bright blue bolt of energy blasted from the barrel and smashed into the torpedo tube blowing it into a thousand pieces. A silver ripple flashed momentarily along the surface of the blob’s skin, repelling the electrical charge, then it fell to the bench, green and wriggling.

  Cursing, Lester wrenched off his goggles and picked up a large glass jar. He strode down the length of the bench and slammed the jar over the blob before it could scuttle away. He picked up his dictaphone and growled into it.

  “Disintegration failed. Energy bolt unable to penetrate protective field.”

  Lester stomped over to the tank wall and banged on the glass in frustration, causing a mass of green blobs to scatter away. He’d tried shooting, stabbing, burning, exploding and even poisoning to destroy them, but so far his experiments had failed. He could catch the blobs, but he couldn’t kill them. Which meant if they ever escaped, they’d make their way back to their owners, slip back into their heads and restore their goodness. Then all his work would have been for nothing.

  He returned to his workstation, turned on his computer and began trawling the internet. The answer was out there somewhere. He just had to find it.

  “I had a visitor earlier,” said Sophie, when Callum crept into her room. “Mitchell waited until his parents were out of earshot then opened my door and hissed at me.”

  Callum sniggered. “What did he say?”

  “He said, ‘I know you did it and I’m gonna get you back. You, my stupid cousin and old stiff knickers. You’ll all pay,’” said Sophie, doing a fair impression of Mitchell the Moron. “Then he slammed the door and stomped away before I could reply.”

  As she spoke, she withdrew a large plastic bag from her luggage and tipped the contents onto the bedspread. A set of nose plugs, a length of rope, a walkie-talkie, a smoke bomb, camouflage paint and a dart gun lay on the bed.

  “What’s all this for?” asked Callum with a note of concern.