Holly was there waiting. Impatiently. She’d had a short nap on her plane too, but felt refreshed and ready for action. She stepped forward when she saw Stanley and took the pencils out of his ears. She so wished he wouldn’t do that in public. Even a genius looked silly with pencils in his ears.
“What’s gone wrong, honey?” asked the Professor as his wife thrust the pencils roughly into the breast pocket of his white coat.
“Nothing’s gone wrong,” said Holly shortly, wishing also that he would remember to take his white coat off when he left his laboratory. “But I knew you’d be fretting, so I wanted you with me. It’s called teamwork.”
It was also called sharing the blame but she wasn’t going to admit that.
“We are dealing with the most extraordinary creatures in the universe,” she added.
Stanley was beginning to wonder if he really did want them. Time was running out and he would make do with any old sheep. Even a couple of rats. But Holly didn’t give him the chance to say so. She turned and walked briskly away.
“Did you leave the crone and her kid at Back of Beyond Ranch?” she asked over her shoulder. “Like I told you to?”
Stanley stared blankly for a moment, then remembered the old lady and the boy. He decided against telling the truth.
“Yes,” he said, following her. “They won’t cause us any bother.”
“Good.” Holly strode on toward the taxi rank.
“So, have you located your extraordinary sheep again, honey?” asked the Professor, trying to keep up. “You do know exactly where they are?”
“Of course.” It was Holly’s turn to lie now.
The Professor looked around. “I don’t see them.”
Holly clicked her fingers at the nearest taxi driver. “Stanley, they’re highly intelligent animals,” she said, climbing into the cab. “They use helicopters and buses. There’s only one place in town they’d dream of staying.”
***
Wills and the others rode up and down in the elevator, looking for Jaycey. They trotted along endless corridors and peeped into hundreds of bedrooms. Back on the ground floor, they came to a door guarded by men in black suits. Wills read the notice on the door out loud.
“Serious Gamblers Only.”
“Gamboling’s what lambs do, eh?” said Links, puzzled.
“Yeah,” said Oxo. “Gamboling’s jumping up and down in a field. How can you be serious about that?”
They shrugged and pushed past the men in black suits. The people inside weren’t jumping up and down. They were sitting at huge round tables, watching cards being turned over or staring at little balls whizzing around black and red dishes. They all looked very serious indeed. The warriors wriggled their way past their legs to peer under the tables, but there was no sign of Jaycey. They hurried back to the entrance lobby.
“This place is too big,” sighed Sal, plonking herself down on the floor. “We’re never going to find her.”
“Not a good place to sit, ma’am,” said a waiter sweeping past with a huge tray full of drinks. “You guys probably want the thirty-fifth floor.”
He hurried on.
“We do?” said Sal.
They trotted to the elevator and another waiter helpfully tapped the call pad.
“Nice to have you with us,” he said as he leaned in and pressed button thirty-five.
The elevator went all the way up in one zoom. It was very fast and arrived at the thirty-fifth floor before most of the warriors’ stomachs. They waited a few seconds for them to catch up, then got out.
“Well, butt my butt!” said Oxo, staring.
It was as if they’d been transported back to England. Eppingham, even. But without the rain. They were standing in a sunlit meadow of real, lush grass. Above their heads, white clouds scudded across a blue sky, and in front of them a small flock of sheep, real sheep, grazed peacefully.
“Well, butt my butt too…” said Links.
***
Meanwhile, outside in the real world, a taxi pulled up in front of the Hotel English Meadows. Holly Boomberg thrust some money into the driver’s hand, then she and Stanley ran along the moving walkway. The large hotel map in the lobby told Holly what she wanted to know.
“Rural Paradise,” she snapped. “Come on.”
She hurried Stanley into the nearest elevator and pushed the button for the thirty-fifth floor.
“But if the hotel keep a flock up here,” said the Professor as they rode up, “how are we going to know which two are ours?”
“The sensors in their ears, darling,” said his wife shortly.
But still the thirty-fifth floor came as a bit of a shock.
“I don’t believe it!” muttered Holly. “Why are there so many wool bags? I can’t even see ours.”
“Wonderful, ain’t it,” said a waiter, placing a fruit drink in her hand, as he passed. “Peace and quiet under a blue sky, any time you want it, day or night.” He laughed. “It’s all done with lights and mirrors, but enjoy.”
He stepped into an elevator and the doors slid shut.
Holly turned back to the sheep and took a length of rope from her briefcase. She’d just caught a glint of artificial sunlight reflecting off the gold stud in Oxo’s ear.
“Follow me, Stanley,” she said. “Quietly…”
The warriors were talking earnestly to the hotel sheep and didn’t notice the two humans sneaking toward them.
“It’s all there in the Songs of the Fleece,” Sal was saying. “The beast will eat us all unless we stop it.”
“Red Tongue’s the name,” said Oxo. “You’ve got to get out while you can.”
“Yeah, yeah…” said one of the grazing sheep.
“We never go out,” said another.
They continued grazing.
“And then there’s Jaycey, eh,” said Links urgently. “A little black-and-white Jacob. Stupid but nice. Have you seen her?”
“Nope.” The grazers went on grazing.
Wills glanced up and saw Holly.
“Look out, Sal!” he cried. “It’s Staple Gun Woman!”
Holly lunged but Sal jumped out of the way and the rope missed. Stanley, meanwhile, had been told to target Oxo.
“Got you!” he cried.
He threw himself at the big ram just as the elevator doors opened and a crowd of people wandered out on to the real grass, exclaiming in delight at the rural paradise of peace in which they found themselves.
Wills saw the warriors’ chance.
“Run!” he yelled.
He raced for the open elevator with Links and Sal close behind. Oxo twisted and heaved and charged after them, with the thin man who’d tried to capture him being dragged across the grass, still clinging to his wool. Oxo turned his head to bite, but the man let go and rolled into the crowd of newly arrived humans.
The sudden noise and drama had panicked the hotel sheep in a way the warriors’ dire warnings had failed to, and they ran as well. They bundled, bleating and shaking, into the elevator after Oxo and the rest, and the door slid shut. It was probably the record number of sheep ever in an elevator.
“What is that woman’s problem?” gasped Oxo angrily, poking his nose above the mass of woolly backs.
“She’s crazy, man,” said Links.
“Can we get out soon, please?” Wills’s voice was a muffled squeak from somewhere at sheep knee height. “I can’t breathe.”
The doors opened and the bundle of baaing sheep tumbled out. There was no time to discuss where to go next. The bell on the second elevator dinged. Its door opened and Staple Gun Woman and her man burst out, followed by the entire crowd of people from the thirty-fifth floor.
With Oxo in the lead, the warriors galloped off down the nearest corridor and the hotel sheep followed. They skidded around corners and clattered down
stairways. Staple Gun Woman and her man kept close behind, and more and more people joined the chase, until a huge mass of shouting, laughing humans were racing after them. Most thought it was another type of hotel entertainment laid on for the guests.
Oxo had no idea where he was going. He was running blindly. He burst into the entrance lobby and crashed into a waiter, then another, then another. Silver trays flew from their hands, showering drinks, sandwiches, fruit, and flowers on the floor, where they were trampled to a soggy mess.
Oxo saw the fountain too late. He didn’t have time to go around it. He plowed straight through, stepping on the nozzles as he went. Jets of water squirted and spurted around the lobby. People screamed, laughed, and skidded on the slippery floor. Some raced on after the sheep, whooping and yelling.
From the corner of one eye, Oxo suddenly saw a narrow doorway tucked away on the side of the lobby. He changed direction, charged through it, and shuddered to a halt.
He was trapped on a narrow landing, staring down a steep, spiral staircase. The rest of the warriors hurtled in after him and Oxo had to brace his feet on the concrete floor to stop himself being pitched down the stairs.
The hotel sheep didn’t try to follow. They milled about on the lobby side of the doorway, exhausted, terrified, and unsure what to do, having forgotten why they were doing it anyway.
Holly Boomberg started shoving them roughly aside. She was looking straight through at Sal and Oxo.
“Got you now, my clever little ovines,” she said, re-tying the noose in her rope.
16
The Silver Cage
In the lobby behind the Boombergs, the hotel manager was working to restore order.
“Close the doors,” he commanded into his walkie-talkie radio. “I want this mess contained!”
Somewhere in a central control department, a button was pressed and all the lobby doors slid silently shut. Holly Boomberg’s head banged against the toughened glass with a clunk. Standing at her shoulder, Stanley rather hoped it hurt. He glanced at his wrist computer.
“Honey,” he said urgently, trying to show her his wrist. “Look at the countdown! These English sheep are way too clever. How about we just grab ourselves a couple from the thirty-fifth floor and make do with them?”
Holly pressed her face angrily against the closed door and hammered with her fists in frustration.
“No!” she said. “Your great experiment demands the best. These are the best and these you shall have whether you like it or not!”
On the other side, the warriors blinked at Holly and then turned to peer down the stairwell. The manager’s calm voice was now radio broadcasting above the chaos.
“Ladies and gentlemen. On behalf of Hotel English Meadows, I would like to apologize for this little, uh, technical difficulty. For your own comfort and safety, the lobby will be closed until further notice. Why not visit our famous basement theatre, where our fabulous Small Hours Show is about to begin?”
Holly turned and grabbed the manager’s arm.
“I don’t want to visit the theatre,” she snarled. “Open this door!”
The manager shook her off as politely as he could.
“That’s not a public route, madam. If you don’t like the theatre, how about a football game? Red Tongue are playing late at the stadium just a few blocks away. Our public doors will be reopened very shortly.”
He gave her a tight little smile and stalked off, clicking his fingers at staff, left and right.
The sheep had dithered at the top of the spiral staircase until Wills had said, “Stairs or Staple Gun Woman?”
“No contest,” said Links. “The stairs. Man, they’re not even moving.”
Remembering that they’d once ridden on a moving escalator, the warriors suddenly felt less afraid. Oxo pushed his way to the front.
“Why are we waiting?” he grunted.
“Backward! Go backward!” shouted Wills but it was too late.
Oxo’s front hooves went down one steep step but there was no room on it for his back hooves. He toppled sideways and started to bounce. Round and round, spiraling down to the bottom.
“Cool move,” laughed Links, then he flopped on his side and pushed off with his hooves. “Let’s rumble tumble.” And down he went.
Sal followed next and finally Wills.
“Shall we do it again?” asked Oxo as they picked themselves up, but Wills was already looking around. They were now in a corridor.
It was narrow, bare, and rather dark, but at the far end was a green lit sign.
“Stage Door,” Wills read aloud.
“What’s one of them?” asked Oxo.
Wills shrugged. He didn’t know.
“Doors is good, right,” said Links. “It might have Jaycey behind it.”
So they continued along the corridor, around another corner, and up a short flight of steps. There was more light here, more space, and several doors. Also, the end of a high red curtain. And a noise. Human voices. Lots of them, beyond the curtain. They were chattering eagerly, excited, as if waiting for something.
Wills poked his nose around the edge of the curtain. He could see a dark hall, packed with people. A sudden loud voice boomed in the darkness, making Wills and the other sheep jump.
“Ladies and gentlemen…We invite you to sit back, relax, and prepare to be amazed. Will you welcome please, the great, the unique, the most beautifully dressed magician in Las Vegas: Madam Gloria Fantutti!”
The great curtain swished aside and Wills had to dodge backward so as not to be seen. He and the rest of the warriors were dazzled as the space where the curtain had been was lit up by a pool of brilliant white light.
A woman was standing in the pool of light, a woman wearing a lot of jewelry and a blue dress. She spread her arms and beamed at her audience until everyone had finished clapping and cheering.
“Ladies and gentlemen…” she purred into a microphone. “Tonight, I do indeed intend to amaze you. Tonight you will see magic you have never seen before…”
She looked upward, and a spotlight followed her gaze to where something was dangling from the ceiling. It was a silver cage, covered with a sparkly blue cloth.
There was a drum roll from the orchestra, seated somewhere beyond the spotlights, and the silver cage was lowered toward Madam Fantutti, turning slowly as it came.
“Tonight,” she announced, “before your very eyes I shall saw in half…not a beautiful girl—you have seen that before. No, I shall do something much more difficult. Something no one else has ever attempted.”
She reached up and whipped the cloth from the cage. The audience gasped and so did the warriors. Because inside, trembling with fright, her fleece powdered with silver glitter, and with a blue bow around her neck, stood Jaycey.
“Tonight, I shall saw in half…a sheep!”
17
Rap Stars
Madam Fantutti produced a huge silver sword and stabbed it into the stage, where it stood quivering. Inside her cage, Jaycey quivered too.
“Keep still, you little fleabag,” murmured Madam Fantutti out of the corner of her mouth.
A small silver box was wheeled onto the stage. From it, Madam Fantutti took a large cabbage, which she hurled into the air. As it fell, she pulled the sword from the stage and sliced the cabbage neatly in two. The audience gasped. The watching warriors gulped.
Two stagehands standing close to the sheep gulped too. They were dressed in black jeans and black sweaters and it was their job to carry the performers’ equipment on and off stage between acts.
“Man, I don’t think I can watch this,” whispered one of the stagehands.
“Nor me,” whispered her colleague. “She’s crazy. I mean, slicing veg is one thing…”
“But what are we going to do?” asked the woman. “Watch her chop that animal up like a turnip?”
“That’s so not funny.”
The woman looked down at the sheep watching tensely beside her. Maybe they were next.
Another drum roll drew all eyes back to the stage. Madam Fantutti had turned her attention to the silver box on wheels, tipping it toward her audience and opening the lid.
“As you can see…” she said, “…the box is completely empty. And has just room enough for one small sheep…”
At that moment, the silver cage dropped lower and Madam Fantutti flipped open its door. A second later, she was holding Jaycey aloft.
“She’s perfectly real, as you can see,” she told her audience.
She shoved Jaycey into the silver box and squashed her down, so that she was lying on her stomach with her head and front hooves sticking out of holes in the front of the box and her back hooves sticking out of holes at the back.
“No escape, muttonhead,” sneered Madam Fantutti quietly as she closed the lid. “It’s wriggle-proof.”
She looked up and beamed at the audience, then spun the box on its wheels and seized the sword again.
“What are we waiting for?” growled Oxo but Wills hurriedly stopped him as he made to charge on stage.
“She’ll kill you too,” he whispered sharply.
The stagehands were staring at Madam Fantutti. “We have to do something…” the woman said.
“Not while she’s holding that sword, I’m not,” murmured the man.
Wills suddenly felt someone else arrive beside them. It was the hotel manager.
“Get on there and stop her,” he hissed at the stagehands. “Get her away from that animal! Get her off stage. And make it look like part of the act.”
He turned his back and put his head in his hands. He knew Madam Fantutti. He was asking the impossible. She was a great magician sometimes. Crazy always. Especially with a sword.
Another drum roll. The stagehands were rooted to the spot, shaking with fear. Wills turned urgently to the warriors.
“It’s down to us,” he whispered. “We’ve got to get her away from Jaycey, and without her killing anyone else. We’ve got to distract her…confuse her…” He drew a quick breath. “Links, get out there and sing.”
The Warrior Sheep Go West Page 8