“Why is there smoke coming from the factory?”
“Because it’s a factory?” Milo responded.
“But everyone who works there is here.”
“Everything is an unsolvable mystery to you, isn’t it?” said Milo. As they passed the base of the Ferris wheel, he spotted something disturbing. “Uh, Lucy?” He pointed at a commotion down below. “I think there’s something wrong with the weatherman.”
A crowd had gathered below. The Clown Captain was speaking urgently into his flower. Lying on the ground in the midst of it all was Carlos Felina, twisting and writhing like a man possessed by demons.
Lucy gasped as they flew by the horrific scene. A murmur radiated around the wheel as other passengers registered the commotion.
“What’s wrong with him?” asked Milo.
A woman in a white coat hustled over, followed by four paramedics with a stretcher. She injected something into the twitching man.
Carlos’s convulsions stopped. The paramedics hoisted him on to the pallet. The clowns cleared a path and whisked the weatherman into a nearby medical tent.
The wheel jerked towards the ground. Their ride was nearly over.
“We need to follow them,” said Lucy. “All the weird stuff is connected, Fish. Bigwoof, boarding school, the bozos… Even the banana man.” Lucy’s mind raced. “I know it is.”
“Or maybe you’re just seeing things that aren’t there.” Milo slid out of his seat as their car lurched again.
“We’re so close to finding the truth.”
“Some people say there’s no such thing as truth.”
“Yeah, those people are called ‘liars’,” said Lucy.
Milo stared at the floor as if trying to divine from the leftover candy wrappers and dusky smears of chewing gum the answer to some cryptic, unanswerable question. “All right. I’m in.”
“You are?” asked Lucy, surprised. Gleefully, she cemented their renewed partnership with a handshake.
Their car reached the ground and the pimple-faced technician opened the gate to let them off. The kids stepped out, knees wobbling. They milled through the exit, keeping an eye out for clowns or other signs of impending doom.
“Lucy,” Milo whispered.
“Yeah?” she whispered back.
“What if you don’t like it?”
“What?”
“The truth,” he said.
Lucy considered this. “I’ll tell you what I don’t like,” she said. “I don’t like how much of the world seems to run on lies.”
Milo was about to speak, but Lucy anticipated the question and cut him off.
“And once I know what’s going on, I’ll shout it from the treetops, because the Truth is the only thing that matters in this tricked-out, photoshopped world.”
“One thing’s for sure.” Milo fluffed his uncombed hair. “You’re not boring.”
“That’s been scientifically verified,” said Lucy. She looked at him expectantly. “What are we waiting for?”
“I’m following you.”
“Oh,” she said. “Right.” She turned on her heel. “This way.”
The duo crossed the crowded expanse, single file, like ducklings seeking shelter in a storm. Not far in the mountainous distance, dark clouds encroached on the horizon.
Lucy and Milo slipped between a green Nu Co. Cola tent and a glittery corn dog stand with a sign that read “Now Serving Nu Co. Ketchup!” Sidestepping the cords and detritus that littered their path, they made their way down a shadowy alley between the vendors. At last, they reached the back of the medical tent where Carlos Felina had been taken.
Lucy peeked through a gap in the white vinyl while Milo stood on tiptoe to see inside. The small structure was packed with clowns and medical personnel. The weatherman squirmed on a bed on wheels in the centre, wailing like a wild animal.
The sedating substance he had been injected with seemed to have worn off. It took four fully grown clowns to hold down his slight, spasming body. One of Carlos’s hands jutted out, his splayed fingers swollen and sweating, the skin on his knuckles cracked and peeling.
Holy stickball. What’s happening to him?
Milo recoiled in horror, but Lucy couldn’t look away. She held her breath, hardly daring to blink.
The woman in the white coat and cat-eye glasses pulled the Captain aside, towards the corner where the kids were spying.
“His condition is accelerating,” she said. “We need to take him to the lab as soon as possible.” She jotted some notes furiously on her clipboard.
“This guy’s a mess, doc,” said the Captain. He was still covered in chocolate from the banana stand. “How much of the stuff has he eaten?”
“Enough,” said the doctor. “We’re still trying to establish the threshold.”
Amid the chaos around the bed, Lucy heard a wet thwepping sound. What had initially looked like sweat was now dripping off Carlos like egg whites. Lucy gagged. Milo looked green.
The Captain recoiled. “What’s that stuff coming off him?”
“Slime,” said a familiar deep voice.
Mr Fisher. Lucy pinched Milo’s arm. He swatted her hand away before she could draw blood.
“Slime?” the Captain snorted.
“It’s not a scientific term, Mr Murl.” Fisher waltzed into view at the back of the teeming tent. “The discharge seems to be a by-product of this –” he waved his hand, outlining Carlos’s body in the air – “process.”
The doctor nodded. “His anatomy is beginning to morph. Terminal and vellus filaments will sprout on the extremities first, before spreading over the rest of the epidermis.” She underlined something on her clipboard.
“English, please?” said the Captain.
“He’ll grow hair all over his body,” said Fisher.
Lucy covered her mouth to keep from crying out.
“How many more people are like this?” asked the Captain.
“Just two, from today,” said the doctor. She furrowed her brow. “Fewer than expected. A disappointing result.”
Disappointing? Is this ratchet brain saying they want this to happen to people?
“Put him in the van,” said Fisher, referring to the weatherman. “Take him to the factory with the others.”
“With all due respect, Sir, we don’t need another vehicle torn to shreds,” groused a buck-toothed clown. His yellow wig was the shape of a haystack. “That teacher creature we picked up the other day was more trouble than she was worth.”
Teacher creature? Lucy felt like her brain was about to explode. Could he be talking about Mrs Stricks?
“Strap him down,” Fisher ordered. “Tightly.” He stepped aside, towards the gap through which Lucy and his son were watching, so close they could smell his spicy aftershave. “We take no chances this time, understood?”
“Yes, sir,” saluted the Captain. “You heard the man,” he barked to the rest of the tent.
Lucy stood slack-jawed as the paramedics covered Carlos with a thin silver blanket and wheeled him out of the tent. Fisher, the Captain and the doctor followed closely behind. A scattering of clowns was left to clean up the slimy mess.
A moment later they heard an engine start, followed by the sound of a large vehicle making its way to the periphery of the fairground.
Lucy staggered back, a bazillion thoughts colliding in her head.
Milo leaned queasily against the tent. Lucy grabbed his arm and led him down the alley to an area buzzing with the sound of electrical generators. The air smelled like exhaust, but the noise made it unlikely they would be overheard.
“What did I just see?” said Milo. “That slime… Ugh, it was revolting.”
“Forget the slime,” said Lucy. “Don’t you see what’s happening?”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s the food!” she cried over the din. “Nucralose. Your dad’s new version, at least.”
“Nucralose?”
“Didn’t you hear the doctor? Eating Nu Co
. food did something to Carlos Felina. They said he’s gonna grow hair. Everywhere.” Lucy chewed off the corner of her thumbnail and spat it on the grass.
“But it’s just a sweetener made of tree sap,” said Milo.
“It used to be, but it’s not any more,” said Lucy. “Now it’s something else.”
“Maybe he’s allergic?”
Lucy waved wildly at the medical tent. “Did that look like an allergic reaction to you?”
Milo shook his head dizzily. “I don’t know. I don’t have any allergies.”
“The footprint changed,” Lucy went on, circling him. “The casts in my room. The foot changed. You saw it. And the slime we found at the Strickses’ house – like the stuff coming off Carlos – my mom said there was Nucralose in it, remember?” She gasped. “Holy smokes. The Other Mrs Stricks was the Bigwoof that saved us from the bear!”
Milo sat on an upturned crate and put his head in his hands. “Can you please stop jabbering and start speaking sense?”
“Don’t you see?” She clasped his hands. “Fish, your dad’s sweetener is turning people into monsters.”
Milo blinked, incredulous. “You’re nuts. You are one hundred per cent in-the-bank bonkers.”
“It may sound bitcoin batspit,” said Lucy, “but it’s true. Everyone at this carnival is in danger. We have to warn them.”
“Warn them?”
Lucy shook her head. “No, you’re right, it’s too late for that. Everyone’s been eating this stuff all day.” She paced up and down the aisle. “Your dad said they were taking Carlos to the factory. He said there were others there, Fish. Others.”
“Only about half the words you’re saying make any sense.”
Lucy snapped her fingers. “That’s where the Strickses are. They’ve been there this whole time. And Alastair Chelon and Mandy Millepoids. They’re all at the factory.”
“This is crazy,” Milo muttered. “You’re crazy.” He pulled out his smartphone. “I’m calling my dad. He’ll clear this whole thing up.”
“You can’t call him,” Lucy fumed. “He’s the one who’s responsible.”
Milo paused with his finger over the call button. “He’s my father. He’ll tell me what’s going on.”
“Like he told you the truth about the picture? Come on, Fish, you can’t—”
CRASH!
A stack of wooden pallets toppled over behind Lucy. Milo thrust his arm in front of her as something big and yellow stumbled into the corridor.
The kids gaped as the banana man steadied himself, his hands on his knees. He glanced up at them guiltily. Then he turned and sprinted down the narrow aisle.
“Oh no you don’t!” Lucy snatched the shiny phone from Milo’s hand and chucked it at the banana man’s feet.
“What are you doing?” cried Milo.
The phone caught the man in the heel with a THWACK. Top-heavy from the bulky rubber costume, he staggered and fell to the ground. Lucy ran and tackled him from behind.
“What is your deal, freakazoid?” she demanded, pushing down on him with all her weight.
He shook Lucy off easily and rolled over, holding his arms out in a gesture of peace. “Please,” he implored, out of breath. “Don’t cry out.” He held a finger to his lips and pointed out to the fairground. “They will hear you.”
Lucy peered down a side alley and glimpsed a shock of green hair as one of Fisher’s clowns marched past. She glared back at the banana man, unsure whether he or the clown was more of a threat. Much of his face paint had melted off since she saw him last. Strangely, he looked almost familiar.
Criminy peatmoss. “I know who you are,” said Lucy. “You’re Mandy Millepoids.”
“You are correct, you little brute.” Grunting, he clambered artlessly to his feet.
“Mandy Millepoids?” Milo picked up his phone and winced as tiny shards of glass rained down on to the grass.
“The second guy who went missing,” Lucy exclaimed. “He owns the candy store downtown.”
“The guy who—” Milo seemed to snap out of a daze. “Why did you attack me?” he demanded.
“I’m sorry.” Millepoids bowed apologetically. “But you are Fisher’s son. You know what is happening here. You know what Nu Co. is doing.”
“I told you.” Lucy punched Milo in the arm, causing his shattered phone to drop to the ground again. “Oh snap,” she said, realising what she’d done to his expensive device. “Sorry.” She picked it up and tried to turn it on, with no luck.
Milo snatched it back and tossed it over his shoulder. “What are you doing here?” he barked at the banana man. “You don’t work for my father.”
“I’ve come with a cure.” Millepoids reached into his costume and pulled out a brown paper packet, like the kind they used at Mandy’s Candies. He unfolded it and displayed its contents: about twenty chocolate truffles topped with finely chopped nuts.
“Candy?” said Lucy.
“Medicinal candy,” said Millepoids. “I’ve been working on it for weeks. It prevents the ‘Big Woof’ transformation, as you call it. Given enough time, it can even reverse it.”
“You put this in the chocolate at the banana stand, didn’t you?” said Lucy.
Millepoids nodded
“You gave everyone an antidote to Nucralose!” Lucy was awed by his ingenuity.
“Not everyone,” said Millepoids. “Only those who enjoy tasty frozen fruit.”
Milo scoffed. “You’re saying this nonsense about Nucralose is true and taking candy from strangers is the cure?” He threw up his hands. “This whole town is insane.”
“Where have you been, Mr Millepoids?” asked Lucy. “The sheriff’s been looking for you everywhere.”
“I’ve been hiding from Nu Co., healing myself and helping poor Esther,” said Millepoids.
“Esther… That’s the Other Mrs Stricks,” said Lucy. “You know where she is?”
Millepoids nodded. “She’s safe. I found her wandering in the woods, looking … unwell.” His face darkened. “At least I found her before they did. I need to find Carlos.” He held up the packet of candy. “I can help him.”
“You’re too late,” said Lucy. “They took him to the factory.”
“So that’s where they’ve been keeping them,” said Millepoids. “They’re not safe there. Fisher will dissect them all.”
“My father wouldn’t hurt anybody,” Milo insisted.
“So you say,” said Millepoids. “I must get to the factory. Now. Are you going there too?”
“No.” Milo kicked a fallen crate. “Absolutely not.”
“Good,” said Millepoids, backing away slowly. “Do not go to the factory. It’s much too dangerous for children.” He tossed Lucy the package. “If you see anyone in need, give them one of those. Before it’s too late.” Without another word, he ran down a side alley and out of sight.
Lucy took a candy out of the package and sniffed it.
“Don’t eat that!” Milo whacked the truffle out of her hand, sending it rolling under a dusty tent flap.
“I already did, at the banana stand,” Lucy answered. “Want one?”
Milo sneered.
“Suit yourself.” She put the packet into her back pocket, where it stuck out but stayed. “I’m going to the factory. You coming?”
“You can’t be serious.” Milo stomped on a discarded cup adorned with a clown face, spraying his shins with half-melted blue slush. “Even the crazy banana guy said not to go.”
“Please,” Lucy snorted. “He was clearly speaking in code.” She strode down the long row of vendors.
A stack of soda crates blocked the end of the alleyway. Lucy shoved them to create enough space to squeeze through. Milo stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.
“Wait,” he said.
“I’m tired of waiting.”
He shoved a few loose grape-coloured locks under her jester hat. “I don’t want you to be clown food.”
“Oh. Thanks.”
They
re-entered the carnival and found themselves surrounded by the symphonic chimes of plastic on glass bottles. They were at the ring toss, where Tex and Willow were counting up their prizes.
“Happy horgon, you guys switched clothes?” said Tex, spotting the pair. “That is adorable.”
“Tex,” said Lucy, relieved.
He was carrying double the number of prizes since they’d seen him last.
“Mom was looking for you,” said Willow. “We told her you were in the bathroom with stomach problems.”
“Gee, thanks,” said Lucy. She scanned the crowd for clowns. “Look, there’s no time to explain, but everyone at this carnival is in danger. Everyone who didn’t eat a frozen banana, that is.”
“What?” Tex laughed.
Lucy took out a handful of medicinal truffles and shoved them into Willow’s hip sack. “Give these to our families, and tell them to stop eating anything with Nucralose.”
“Stop eating?” Tex blanched. “Now, wait just a minute—”
Lucy turned to Milo. “Are you coming to the factory or not?”
He threw up an arm. “Sure, why not?” he said. “I’ve lived a long life.”
“Let’s go.” Lucy pulled him towards the back entrance to the carnival.
“You’re gonna be grounded till you’re forty!” Willow shouted. She turned to Tex. “Come on,” she clucked. “It’s time to tattle.”
Milo and Lucy legged it out of the carnival through the travelling workers’ campsite, past harrumphing generators, hot-dog-scented grills and dirt-caked caravans.
Once in the woods, they followed a meandering stream through a large grove of sticky pines. Lucy scrambled up a lichen-spotted boulder to see how far ahead the lake was.
Milo seemed transfixed by the dark ooze flowing down one of the knurled trunks. “So let me try to understand what you have come to believe.”
Lucy stood precariously on tiptoe. “Yes?”
“You’re saying that the sap from these trees, right here in front of us, is capable of turning human beings into hideous hairy creatures.”
The Bigwoof Conspiracy Page 9