Polly gave another gasp before frantically placing a hand over her mouth, for she needed to avoid detection. The word hostage screamed in her head and filled every atom of her body with terror. The evil captain continued on with his address.
“By now, Polly will be both weak and hungry, and this, I believe, is a perfect opportunity to catch her unaware.” He then paused, scanning each individual blob, anxious to see if they were taking in everything he said. “By the way, where is that little cripple, Addiction?” he angrily demanded to know.
“He’s in the hold, Master. He discovered hundreds of bottles of alcohol and large boxes of Belgian chocolate down there. Yes, whether you knew it or not, he’s been down in the hold for the whole journey, stuffing his fat, hairy face,” hissed Binge as he rather delightedly informed the captain of Addiction’s whereabouts.
However, he failed to mention that he too had also been down in the hold, doing likewise for much of the journey. In fact, he had only recently returned to his seat after a very lengthy session in the bathroom, where he had been extremely sick.
“Well, will someone go and drag him back here to face my wrath before he drinks himself unconscious!” seethed the captain, baring his gangrenous, splintered teeth.
In seconds, yet another hideous ball of guck was bouncing to the front of the cabin, only this one had razor-sharp fangs. Moments later, Addiction stood, or rather, sycophantically bowed and groveled at his master’s feet, still clutching a half-drunk bottle of wine.
“Yes, Master—hic—what can I do to be of service?—Hic, hic,” Addiction asked, squirming as he hung his head low in order to prevent all further eye contact.
“Well, for one, you can wipe all that disgusting chocolate from around your face, you revolting, despicable miscreant! And then you can tell me who gave you permission to leave your seat in the first place, or the permission to stuff your disgustingly ugly, fat face?” he thundered.
“You did, master! That’s why I exist—hic—to stuff myself stupid with anything and everything. You know full well that my job is to latch like a leech onto my host, because it was you who gave me the job in the first place,” he snickered, hiccupping continuously as he attempted to answer his master. “Yes, myself as well as Craving, who incidentally is still down in the hold, have had ourselves a wonderful feast, and he is still down there, eating your share of the chocolate,” he mischievously confided. “You’ve always allowed us to take this course of action as we begin to take control of our unwitting victim. Yes, you have to agree with me when I say that together we make a superbly successful team, ruining the lives of many an idiot in this sneaky, well-thought-out manner,” he answered with a snort.
With the exception of Polly, all present on board the plane began to snicker and squeal as they delighted themselves in just how professionally Addiction did his job and how many thousands of lives he had managed to destroy over the years. The ugly little mug did, after all, deserve much praise, as well as chocolate, for all his hard and surprisingly effortless work behind the scenes. They were also quite overcome with joy as they considered that Craving would really be in for the high jump as soon as their master got hold of him. For they knew with much certainty that, at the very least, Craving would be squashed into a small ball and then thrown as far as the captain could throw him. Knowing their captain’s cricketing skills as well as they did, they were all convinced that Craving would more than likely find himself being batted into another orbit! That is, until he begged and screamed and had a major tantrum, making Vanaspi frighteningly consumed with rage. Their master would at this point seemingly relent and allow him to return to his side in readiness of his next assignment. Then he would use the opportunity to get him back some more. Such was the root of vindictiveness inbred into his very nature.
“Be quiet, all of you,” the captain sternly ordered. “Now, Polly will hopefully find herself meeting up with Soogara and her hounds, Grovelock and Grubstick,” he said, flashing a wicked smile. “And it is very important that you, Addiction,” he said pointing directly at him, “are there to meet Polly. In fact, it would be a good idea to take Binge and Craving along with you on this occasion.”
Binge started to jump up and down in his seat at being given this most special covert operation. He was so full of glee that thick and very pungent black liquid began to squirt from his pointed ears, landing and covering many of the others as he continued to bounce up and down on the seat.
“Addiction, it’s your job to make sure that she falls for Soogara’s charms, and Craving will have already seen to it that her sweet tooth is really playing up before Binge goes in to finish the job. Make sure you do not fail me, for if you do, you know the consequences will be harsh!”
The black hairy blobs nodded and shuddered in unison as they considered all that would happen to them if everything did not go according to the plan. Their master was indeed a hard taskmaster and quite impossible to please. They all knew with absolute certainty that failure was not an option!
The master stood for a few minutes in absolute silence as he perused his motley crew and hoped they where up to the task.
“Deceit, stop playing with those headphones and come down here right now!” the loathsome captain commanded. “And drag Malice along with you, for I’m not that stupid. I can see him hiding under the seat next to you.”
Deceit slithered off his chair and headed forward to the front of the cabin, bowing and fawning ingratiatingly as he did so, with Malice reluctantly following hard on his heels. He stood before his master slobbering, “Your wish is my command, oh master of the universe—oh jewel-encrusted star of the Orion—oh star-spangled…”
“Zip it before I personally decapitate you!” spat the captain. Deceit instantly obeyed, firmly shutting his mouth to allow no further utterances to spew forth.
Polly, who was still watching, felt utterly mortified and in a state of shock. She slowly shook her head as if, by doing so, she might wake up and discover that this was just another of her horrible nightmares. She knew she had to take a firm grip of herself and think of some way of escaping from the plane. She also felt it was her responsibility to think up a plan or way of alerting the French authorities to let them know that the plane was in the hands of frightfully evil terrorists and insurgents. The trouble was she had absolutely no idea as to what she could possibly do. To make matters a whole lot worse, her legs felt like jelly and her whole body refused to stop shaking. She therefore closed her eyes momentarily and did the only thing she thought she could do. Yes, this was her last resort. She closed her eyes tight and silently sent up a prayer for help.
The captain continued to bark his instructions to what Polly was now convinced were his servants, for they certainly were on no holiday, and they appeared to have little choice other than to obey every whim and command he thundered in their direction.
Malice now moved from behind Deceit in order to greet the captain. Polly had no idea what was said to him, for the captain bent down and whispered directly into Malice’s ear. The captain then stood up straight and with a smile on his face said, “Good, yes, I think this plan of yours is brilliant. Well done, both of you. You may go back to your seats.”
Both blobs turned and headed back down the aisle toward their seat, Deceit bouncing and bashing into many of the empty seats as he made his way back. At one point he stopped to scratch his hairy, lice-filled head, and as he did so, his fingers became instantly covered in hundreds of tiny insects, which he simply brushed into the palm of his hand before popping them, one-by-one, into his cavernous mouth. Polly watched on feeling thoroughly sickened.
The captain then gave his final address.
“Right, listen up, all you vomitous cretins,” he ordered, a dark scowl engulfing his face. “You should all have an envelope in your possession, giving precise details of your individual roles that are necessary if we are to hasten Polly’s downfall. Those of you aboard whom I have not managed to speak with, please do not worry, for I will
catch up with you later.” He then deliberately fixed his dark, soulless eyes on Jealousy, who now looked very anxious and upset that he had missed out by not being called forward. “And that includes you, Jealousy, for I can see you sulking over there in the corner seat.” Jealousy shrugged his wimpy shoulders and closed his dolefully sad eyes as he continued to smolder, for he found it quite unbearable to have been ignored by his master while others around him got the master’s personal attention.
“Right, now where was I?” said the captain. “Oh yes, pay attention everyone. Eventually we will be meeting up with Hagora and Egor, who are at present guarding the control tower from any inquisitive persons who might call the French authorities for help. Finally, I have given orders to Carnage to organize just a teeny weenie train accident so that all attention is diverted from our presence here on French soil.”
“Can we go with him?” Misery and Despair shouted back at the same time. “For you know we get so much pleasure helping Carnage wreak havoc.”
“No, that is not possible,” snarled the captain.
“But you promised me I could go with him on the next mission,” retorted Misery miserably.
“Yes, I know I did, but I have changed my mind,” the captain snapped back.
“Well, that’s not fair. You promised me,” wailed Misery as he hung his head low in bitter disappointment.
“Silence, you fool!” snapped the very angry, as well as extremely agitated, captain. “You know full well that I am the father of lies, and therefore I never keep my promises. If you had wanted a fair and faithful master you should have stayed on the other side. Now put a sock in it before I do something to you that I will never regret.”
The captain paused for a moment, privately thinking how much he truly hated insubordinates. He then cleared his hairy throat and turned to finish his address.
“Remember, everyone, we may not have found Polly yet, but we still have much work to do in the meantime—important work, such as taking the French president hostage and storming the Eiffel Tower,” he said with a menacing smile. “Oh, and before I completely forget, I have one final word of warning for Addiction and Craving. If I discover you have abandoned your post, opting to head for the nearest French restaurant, both of you will be dealt with most severely!”
All the slimeballs started to crease up at the thought of these two lovable rogues sitting with red-checked napkins tied haphazardly round their scrawny little necks as they tucked carte blanche into escargot provençal along with mountains of garlic bread while swigging back endless bottles of French wine. These two less-than-adorable numskulls were much admired for being so very out of control and gluttonous.
“Pay attention, all of you!” screamed the captain as he lashed out at the nearest miscreants sitting close by in their seats. He had, understandably, suffered enough of their disruptive and foolish behavior and needed to remind them who was boss. “My instructions are very detailed and precise, so make sure, all of you, that you read them very carefully, for I will not tolerate incompetence of any description. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”
“Yes, perfectly clear, Master,” they all whined in unison.
“Yes, my little protégés, let me warn and remind you one final time: failure is not an option.”
“Yes, we all understand. Failure is not an option. Failure is not an option, oh master of the universe,” they repeated as they fawned and then stood united to toast their master and his wonderfully wicked mission.
“Good, then let’s get on with the task at hand,” he said with an evil glint in his eye before turning quickly on his heels to head back into the cockpit and prepare to land the plane.
Suddenly, the runway beneath the plane lit up with a million tiny lights, and moments later the plane swiftly descended until the rubber from the wheels hit the tarmac surface of the runway.
Finally the plane came to a halt. All lights inside the plane and on the runway were put out, leaving Polly and all inside the cabin in utter darkness. The smell of evil was tangible. The air inside the cabin was thick with tension.
Polly felt really scared and realized that if she was to have any hope of escaping, now was the time. Any hesitation on her part could spell disaster, so whatever she had planned she needed to do it as fast as she could. Seconds later she heard the click of numerous seatbelts as they were unfastened within a split second of each other.
Polly suddenly had an idea. She reached into her schoolbag as quietly as she was able and pulled out her new torch. She breathed a sigh of relief as she discovered that she had picked up a boxed item that miraculously, for once, had batteries provided. She lifted her eyes to the heavens and whispered, “Thank You,” before crouching down near the window seat at the back of the plane to place the batteries inside the torch. Taking off the silver foil from a piece of chewing gum, she quickly popped it in her mouth and then frantically began chewing away. She then began to flash the torch out of the window in the direction of the airport control tower, for she wanted to alert the French authorities to this most terrible and urgent crisis. She knew how to do Morse code, for she remembered seeing it done numerous times before when she had watched A Night to Remember on the television. It was, after all, one of her favorite black-and-white movies about the sinking of the Titanic.
As she flashed her torch, she struggled to remember if it was “dot…dot…dot,” followed by “dash…dash…dash,” followed by one more round of “dot…dot…dot.” She hoped she had it the right way round for her sake, as well as the whole of France.
She then pulled out a large sheet of drawing paper, and with a black felt-tip pen, began to scrawl in large letters on the paper.
HELP, MY NAME IS POLLY BROWN. NOT ONLY AM I ENGLISH, BUT I’M VERY PROUD OF IT. THIS PLANE HAS BEEN TAKEN OVER BY TERRORISTS WHO ARE ABOUT TO DO SOME OUTRAGEOUS ACTS OF WICKEDNESS ON YOUR SOIL. SO PLEASE CAN YOU CONTACT THE BRITISH EMBASSY AND ASK FOR THE SPECIAL ARMED SERVICES (SAS)? I RATHER URGENTLY NEED THEIR ASSISTANCE!
THANK YOU,
Polly went over all the lettering with a bright yellow fluorescent pen to highlight her most urgent note. She then spat out her chewing gum into the palm of her hand. This rather disgusting act was very necessary, because it acted as an adhesive to help keep the note pinned to the window of the plane. She felt guilty putting the sticky stuff on the clean window. Chewing gum should only be thrown away into bins; otherwise it sticks to the heels of shoes, making a disgusting mess that is virtually impossible to remove. But she hoped the airline would understand the dreadfulness of her plight and readily forgive her seemingly slovenly behavior. She continued to flash the torch toward the tower, at the same time praying under her breath for help to come, and quickly.
All she could do was continue to crouch between the passenger seats and wait. Polly was in complete despair of ever being rescued when, after what seemed an eternity, the Fifth Cavalry finally arrived on the scene.
To use the word arrived implies that by some reasonable means, Polly was finally freed from her captors. This certainly was not the case, for as Polly was about to discover, the British government does not take kindly to any acts of violence and it therefore does not negotiate with terrorists! And, I might add, neither does the SAS.
At precisely seven minutes past six, the emergency doors over the airliner’s wings at the front and rear of the fuselage were all blown open by special explosive charges. Seconds later, stun grenades were thrown into the fuselage. Then there was a terrifyingly loud bang followed closely by a bright flash, its light so blinding that Polly instantly covered her eyes with her hands.
Seconds later assault teams stormed the plane. Polly remained hidden as a most intense battle took place. Hails of bullets rang through the cabin as the SAS men with their Heckler & Koch MP5 submachine guns emptied magazine after magazine as they fought to take control of the plane.
Polly eventually arose from under the seat, peering most cautiously out of her window only to see soldiers from one of the four
squadrons, dressed from head to toe in camouflage with ropes tied around their waists, hoisting themselves up the side of the plane. Seconds later, as she continued to stare out of the window, she came eyeball-to-eyeball with one of the team members who gave her a quick wink as he continued to rappel up onto the roof of the plane. Soon after, they burst into the cabin. After throwing flash bangs, they then rolled smoke grenades down the aisle. Polly felt she could hardly breathe as thick smoke filled the cabin. Then she heard shouting, coupled with yet more bursts of gunfire from fully automatic weapons before all fell eerily silent.
Polly instantly fell back onto the floor and then remained crouched under the seat, her eyes streaming due to the thick haze of smoke. She coughed and spluttered, hardly able to breathe. She wanted to jump up from where she was hiding to let all in the plane know she was there, but she wisely chose to remain hidden just in case there was any further action. Also, being the very sensible girl that she was, she had no wish to be shot dead when she was innocent of all crimes other than the unfortunate misunderstanding back at the airport; she felt she did not deserve to die under a hail of bullets just for that tiny misdemeanor.
Suddenly, she heard very determined footsteps making their way down the aisle of the plane. Polly didn’t dare look up, for she was much too afraid. Then she heard voices.
“Colonel Slaughterhouse, I’ve found her!” said a low but very delighted voice.
“That’s excellent news, Corporal Beanpod,” came the equally merry reply. “Now go and tell Lieutenant Snodgrass that he may call off his men, for I do believe that, as usual, we have the situation fully under our control.”
“Yes, sir,” said Corporal Beanpod, giving a salute while standing to attention at the same time. Colonel Slaughterhouse then walked up the aisle before crouching down to address Polly.
“Well, hello there, old boy,” he said in his most fierce and stiff upper-lip English accent before putting out his hand for Polly to shake. “That was a close shave, even if I say it myself, old sprout,” continued the colonel.
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