Boy Versus Rat Dog

by Justin D'Ath

  Colt clicked the door closed again, making sure it was properly locked. The rat cops might have another key, so he looked round for something to jam against it. Just to his right stood some big black drums marked with skull and crossbones symbols and Poison in large yellow letters.

  ‘Hold the torch, Birdy.’

  While Birdy held the torch, Colt tried to tip one of the drums onto its side so he could roll it over to the door. It wouldn’t budge.

  C’mon! he thought, gritting his teeth and straining with every muscle in his body. But the drum didn’t move.

  Birdy didn’t say anything about how weak he was. Instead, she shone the torch on a wooden pallet leaning against the wall nearby. ‘What about that?’

  Wordlessly, Colt dragged the pallet over to the door and wedged it under the handle. It wasn’t as good as one of the big, heavy poison drums, but it would slow the rat cops down. It might even keep them out until the police arrived.

  ‘Good work, Colt.’

  Colt was grateful that Birdy didn’t say anything about Superclown. He would have done a much better job.

  ‘Let’s find Lucy,’ he said.

  ‘Okay.’

  But both of them were beginning to suspect that Lucy wasn’t here. That everything they’d done tonight – and all the worry they’d put their families through – was for nothing.

  ‘I’m sorry for bringing you here, Birdy.’

  ‘I brought myself here,’ she said.

  He handed back her phone. ‘Anyway, you’d better ring your mum.’

  The time for secrecy was over. All that mattered now was staying out of Officer Katt’s clutches until help arrived. Colt could figure out where Lucy was when they were safely out of here.

  As Birdy fiddled with her phone’s weird old touch-screen, Colt led the way with his SmartTorch down a narrow aisle between two rows of cages. There were so many cages they had to be stacked on top of each other. Each one contained up to a dozen guinea pigs. There must have been thousands of them! Keeping them vaccinated again rat flu would have cost a fortune.

  What was DoRFE doing with them?

  ‘There’s no signal,’ Birdy whispered, holding her eye-phone above her head and waving it from side to side.

  ‘Doesn’t it have TelepathE?’

  ‘That only came out last year. This needs a satellite connection.’

  ‘It worked back in that other building,’ Colt said.

  ‘Well, it doesn’t work in here,’ said Birdy. ‘See what the roof’s like.’

  Colt shone the torch up to see what was above them. And there was the problem. The ceiling was a mass of air-conditioner units, extractor fans and a tangled spaghetti of massive, foil-coated air ducts.

  ‘What is this place?’ Birdy wondered aloud.

  A moment later, they found out.

  They came to a huge, glassed-in room surrounded on three sides by cages. As big as a house, it even had its own roof. A row of large extractor fans were fitted to the inner ceiling. These were connected on the outside to big silver air ducts that snaked up to join those in the shadowy roof-space of the main building. Fixed at intervals along the windows were half a dozen more Biohazard warning signs. A door at the end had a keypad lock. A sign next to it said Hazard Suits must be worn at all times. Hanging from a row of hooks outside were six or seven bulky white suits like the ones worn by the Chinese astronauts when they went to Mars. Each suit had a fully enclosed helmet with a gas mask attached. There was a strong chemical odour in the air that made Colt worried.

  ‘I am absolutely not going in there!’ whispered Birdy.

  Neither was Colt. He shone his torch in through one of the windows.

  ‘Shashlik!’ he gasped.

  It was another laboratory. This one was full of guinea pigs, too. But instead of being in cages, these ones were housed in small glass cases like aquariums. And they hardly looked alive. A few turned their heads and blinked sleepily at the torch light, but most didn’t move at all.

  ‘What’s the matter with them?’ Birdy asked in a tiny, scared voice.

  Colt struggled to keep his own voice steady. ‘I think they’ve got rat flu.’

  ‘Will they get better?’

  ‘There’s no cure.’

  Birdy was silent for a few moments. ‘Are DoRFE making them sick?’

  ‘I guess so.’

  ‘That’s so cruel!’

  ‘It’s research,’ Colt said, feeling slightly sick himself. ‘I guess they’re trying to find a cure.’

  He turned away from the window and fingered one of the hazard suits, feeling the thickness of its fabric, then measuring the length of its sleeve against his arm.

  ‘I’ve got an idea,’ he said.

  They began releasing guinea pigs. Not the sick ones in the glass-walled laboratory, but the ones in the main building. The healthy ones.

  The ones that hadn’t been infected with rat flu yet.

  The cages weren’t locked, but they were stacked two or three high. Colt and Birdy worked as fast as they could, lifting cages down, opening their doors, freeing the animals inside. Soon the aisles were blocked by empty cages, and guinea pigs went scurrying everywhere.

  ‘Why are we doing this?’ Birdy whispered.

  ‘It’s a decoy,’ Colt said. ‘If the rat cops get in, they’ll have more to chase than just us.’

  ‘Is there somewhere we can hide?’

  ‘We might not . . .’

  Colt fell silent. There were voices outside – a man’s and a woman’s. The door rattled. Its handle turned back and forth. There was more talking. Colt tried to hear what they were saying.

  ‘Have you got the key?’

  ‘It’s back at the office.’

  ‘Can you go back and get it, Owen? I’ll mind the dog.’

  Colt grinned to himself. Enjoy the exercise, guys. The key was in his pocket. He opened another cage door and Birdy shooed out half a dozen more guinea pigs to join the hundreds that were already running free.

  A red warning light started flashing on the SmartTorch. Its battery was running low. In a few minutes, it would switch to Sleep mode.

  ‘Come with me,’ Colt whispered.

  Birdy followed him over to the door. Her eyes went big when she saw him reach for the light switch. Are you crazy? she mouthed at him.

  Maybe he was. Officer Katt was just outside. She was chewing mint-flavoured gum as she waited for Officer Owen to return. Colt could smell it on her breath, even though a heavy door stood between them. He could smell Kardos, too. And hear him sniffing the ground.

  Hey! Are my senses getting stronger again? he wondered.

  And then his skin started tingling – another good sign.

  He threw the dangling switch. High overhead, about a hundred LumiCells sputtered into life, flooding the building in light.

  ‘They’ll see we’re in here!’ Birdy whispered.

  Colt shrugged. ‘Doesn’t matter. We need to see what we’re doing. Follow me.’

  They ran back through the building, dodging around empty cages and jumping over guinea pigs. Behind them, Officer Katt started banging on the door.

  ‘I know you’re in there, Snowy. Open up!’

  In your dreams, Colt thought.

  When they reached the laboratory, he removed his backpack and dumped it on the floor. Then he took the four keys from his pockets and gave them to Birdy.

  ‘Hang onto these. One of them might open the gate.’

  ‘The gate?’ she said.

  ‘Yeah. The one outside.’

  ‘But how will we get out of here?’

  Colt pointed at the towering brick wall just past the end of the laboratory. ‘Through there.’

  ‘Are you crazy?’ Birdy said (aloud this time).

  He shook his head. ‘No, I’m Superclown.’

  It had all begun to make sense. Colt had lost his superpower when he started having doubts about himself – when Zoltan’s death had made him ask whether it would be better just to be norm
al.

  But being normal wasn’t going to help him and Birdy now. It wasn’t going to help them get out of here and find Lucy. He had to turn his thinking around. He had to stop doubting.

  He had to become UN-normal!

  Colt chose the smallest hazard suit and struggled into it. It was like a bulky pair of overalls, with gloves and over-boots attached. Birdy had to zip him up from behind. Before closing the helmet, Colt bent clumsily and tried to find the last three Power Bars in his backpack. He should have done it before he put the suit on. He asked Birdy to help. She found the bars, unwrapped them, and handed them to him one at a time. Colt chewed and swallowed furiously, then washed everything down with most of the remaining soft drink. He gave the last little bit to Birdy.

  ‘Can you bring the backpack?’ he asked.

  A secretive look, almost like a smile, passed across Birdy’s face. She glanced back at one of the cages, where two half-grown guinea pigs hadn’t followed their parents out.

  ‘Your wish is my command, Spaceman.’

  Colt clomped over to the wall. It was hard to walk in the big, cumbersome suit. He did feel like a spaceman. But he needed to be more than a spaceman. Super-spaceman? he wondered, flexing his fingers inside the suit’s too-big rubber gloves. The gas mask made his breath whistle.

  He touched the bricks with four rubber-coated fingertips. The wall was massive. A great cliff of bricks. What if it falls on top of me? he worried. What if I break my knuckles?

  Colt looked around for a battering ram – something heavy to use instead of his fists. Some gas bottles stood on a trolley, waiting to be taken into the laboratory. They were made of steel and shaped like torpedoes, but who knew what was in them. It could be some sort of lethal gas. It might even explode. The trolley they sat on wasn’t any good, either. It looked much too flimsy to batter a hole through a brick wall.

  There was a skinny post at each corner of the trolley. A length of chain was looped through each of them to keep the gas bottles from falling over. Colt clomped over for a closer look. He unhooked the chain. It was about three metres long, with heavy iron links. Colt wrapped it round and round his right fist, all three metres of it, until it looked like he wore a huge, lumpy boxing glove. Then he waddled back to the wall.

  He cocked his giant fist, like a boxer preparing to make a knockout blow.

  ‘Stand back, Birdy,’ he said over his shoulder. His voice sounded strange inside the gas mask and helmet. ‘Follow me when it looks safe.’

  Birdy gave him a nod. She was standing over by the empty cages, wearing his backpack and looking nervous.

  Colt was nervous, too. What if his superpower hadn’t come back? What if he was still just normal?

  As soon as he started having these thoughts, Colt felt a change inside him. His heart started to labour, as if his blood had turned suddenly thick and slow. His skin and the muscles under it stopped tingling. And the huge ball of chain wrapped around his fist grew so heavy he could barely support it. Not just his arm, but his whole body started to tremble.

  Think positive! he told himself.

  I am Superclown!

  There was a loud bang from the other side of the building, followed by a clatter of splintering wood. The rat cops were breaking the door down.

  Colt swung his ironclad fist.

  The first two punches seemed to have no effect.

  Think positive! Colt told himself. You can do this! You’ve lifted up an elephant before!

  Lucy’s big dewy eyes flashed into his mind.

  Punch number three was different. It produced a big crack in the mortar that zigzagged up between the bricks, all the way to the top of the wall. Colt suddenly noticed that his fist no longer felt quite so heavy. He punched again. Wham! This time, three bricks fell down.

  Getting better, he thought.

  Raising his giant, ironclad fist one last time, Colt gritted his teeth and gave it everything he had.

  WHAM!

  Mortar cracked. There was a loud rumble. Then a huge shower of bricks came crashing down around him.

  Superclown was back!

  When the cement dust cleared, Colt blinked up at a circle of starry sky. There was a hole in the wall large enough to drive a truck through. He staggered outside, kicking fallen bricks clear as he went, making a path for Birdy and the guinea pigs to follow him.

  Birdy came next, skipping over the bricks he’d missed, as nimble as a ballet dancer.

  Then came the guinea pigs. Thousands of them. They came pouring through the gap like a flood of water released from a dam.

  The reason for their panic was clear. Loud, angry barking echoed through the building. The rat cops and Kardos had broken in.

  ‘Get the gate open!’ Colt screamed at Birdy. ‘I’ll be right behind you!’

  She nodded and raced ahead. Colt plodded slowly after her in the big, clumsy hazard suit. They’d come out of the Biohazard building on the side facing the fence. The gate was about 50 metres away. It was lit up by the floodlights.

  Where were the police? Where was Colt’s mother? He’d hoped they would be here by now.

  Birdy reached the gate before Colt was even halfway there. She crouched next to the padlock and began digging keys out of her pockets, glancing back over her shoulder as she did so.

  ‘LOOK OUT BEHIND YOU!’ she yelled.

  Colt turned around. A messy-haired woman came charging out through the hole in the wall, jumping over bricks and guinea pigs. At first Colt didn’t recognise her. She was wearing a T-shirt and tracksuit pants, and had thongs on her feet. It was Officer Katt out of uniform.

  But she did have her stun gun.

  ‘STOP RIGHT WHERE YOU ARE!’ she yelled.

  Colt hoped she wouldn’t shoot. But even if she did, a little electric shock probably wouldn’t harm Superclown. He was more worried about Kardos.

  Officer Owen and the dog emerged from the building ten metres behind Officer Katt. But instead of coming after Colt, Kardos began running in circles, distracted by all the guinea pigs. Just as Colt had hoped, the highly trained animal couldn’t pick up his scent because of the air-tight hazard suit.

  In all the confusion, the dog’s lead became tangled around Officer Owen’s legs and the rat cop fell on top of him.

  That just left Officer Katt to deal with.

  She caught up with Colt when he still had about 20 metres to go.

  ‘Nice try, Snowy!’ she said.

  And fired the stun gun from point-blank range.

  Colt mightn’t have been able to walk fast, but the suit didn’t affect his arm movements. The gun’s twin metal darts had about two metres to cover. Before they could reach him, Colt swung his huge, ironclad fist directly into their path.

  There was a popping sound and a bright blue flash as the electric charge was absorbed harmlessly by the coiled chain.

  ‘Nice try, Officer Katt,’ Colt said.

  He turned away and kept walking.

  The rat cop let out a scream of frustration. Tossing the stun gun aside, she tackled Colt from behind, wrapping her arms around him in an attempt to wrestle him to the ground. But he was too strong. Colt just kept plodding towards the gate, dragging Officer Katt behind him like an over-sized ragdoll.

  Birdy still hadn’t found the right key. Three lay discarded in the dust. She pushed the last one into the padlock.

  Click!

  The gate swung slowly open.

  Birdy straightened up and cast a worried look over her shoulder at Colt and Officer Katt bumping slowly towards the gate like a strange, two-headed hunchback.

  ‘Run!’ Colt called from inside his fogged-up helmet. ‘I’ll be okay.’

  There were headlights in the distance. A procession of vehicles was coming along the fire trail from the road. The lead one had blue and red lights flashing on its roof.

  Colt dumped his unwanted passenger on the ground, just inside the DoRFE boundary.

  ‘The free ride stops here, Officer Katt,’ he said. ‘Different rules
apply outside this gate.’

  Nineteen Weet-Bix, eight pieces of toast, six bananas and a bowl of potato salad – that’s what Colt ate when he and his mother got back to their caravan at four o’clock that morning. Then he went to bed.

  ★★★

  It was voices that woke him. His mother’s and Birdy’s. There was a third voice, too – one that took him a few moments to identify. Little Hamish from school.

  Colt stretched and rolled over. Sunlight slanted in through a gap in the curtains. How long had he been asleep? The dial on his bedside clock showed 08:14, but it could have been any day of the week. He swung his feet to the floor and padded out to see what was happening.

  ‘Well, look who’s woken up at last!’ grinned Birdy.

  ‘Good morning, sleepy-head,’ said his mother.

  He yawned. ‘What day is it?’

  ‘Friday,’ said Birdy.

  For a moment Colt nearly believed her. Then she giggled. ‘It’s Tuesday.’

  Well, Tuesday was better than Friday, he thought. But he’d lost a whole day. Being a superhero had its downside.

  ‘It’s my birthday,’ Hamish said proudly. ‘I’m six years old. Hey, thanks for the best ever presents, Colt!’

  What presents? he wondered.

  That was when he noticed that Hamish and Birdy each cradled a little furry bundle in their arms – baby guinea pigs.

  ‘Where did they . . .?’ he began to ask, then fell silent because he knew the answer. That’s what Birdy had been doing while he was smashing a hole in the brick wall. His mother raised her eyebrows. ‘Apparently your good friend Officer Katt said you could keep them as souvenirs.’

  ‘I’ll bet she did!’ Colt looked at Birdy, who shrugged innocently.

  ‘Me and Hamish just brought them over so your mum could give them a health check.’