“No.” She dropped down to her heels. “I’m saying Nu Co. did something freaky to the sap. That’s what makes it turn people into hideous hairy creatures. The trees have been around for gajillions of years and nobody’s turned into a Bigwoof before.”
Milo pulled a taffy-thick grape-sized glob of sap off the trunk. “This stuff doesn’t look like much, does it?” He rolled the substance between his fingers and felt it harden into a squishy bead. When he released the tension, the sap softened and spread over his hand like honey. He sniffed it. “What does it taste like? I mean, before they turn it into sweetener.”
“You haven’t licked a tree yet?” said Lucy. “That’s usually the first thing people do when they get to Sticky Pines.”
“I suppose I’m different from the people who traditionally come here.”
“Well, you do have all your teeth…”
Milo scrunched his face and licked the sap. “It tastes … piney.” He dripped a bit more on to his tongue. “It’s sweet, but there’s a sort of coppery aftertaste. I don’t really get the appeal.” He smacked his lips a few times before finding, to his horror, that his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth. He squealed like a dying rabbit before prising it loose with a finger.
Lucy laughed so hard she almost fell off the boulder.
Milo spat out the black residue. “Blechh.” He wiped his sticky hand on the inside-out shirt he was wearing. “Ith won’th cong oth.”
“Yeah.” Lucy wiped away a tear. “That stuff won’t come off your skin for a day or two.” She slid back down to the ground.
Milo scraped his tongue with his teeth. “I’m glad you find this so entertaining. You could have warned me.”
“But then I’d be breaking the Sticky Pines tradition.” She slapped him on the back.
They tromped briskly alongside the creek, the noise from the carnival dissipating into birdsong, burbling waters and the faint flutter of falling leaves.
“What is that disturbing thing?” said Milo, who had spotted something hanging from a low bough on a tall tree. Vaguely human-shaped, it was made of sticks and twine, with a large pine cone for a head.
“It’s a birdfeeder,” said Lucy. “The birdwatchers coat it with sap and put seeds on it. The birds come to eat, and the watchers watch.” She glanced around the area. “There’s probably a blind nearby.”
“A blind?” asked Milo.
“A little hut where the birdwatchers hide. The good ones are hard to spot.”
“So someone could be watching us right now?” said Milo.
“Probably not,” said Lucy. “There’s no seed on the feeder.”
“Birdwatching is kind of a creepy pastime, isn’t it?”
“Sure. From the bird’s perspective.” Lucy heard a rustle in an alder tree a few paces away. “Hey, look at that.”
An owl sat on a high branch. Brown streaks graced its white belly, its curious dark eyes circled by mottled rings of white and grey. It seemed to be staring at them.
“Talk about birdwatching,” Milo shuddered. “I thought owls only came out at night.”
“Mostly,” said Lucy, “but not always. You often see owls out during the day in Sticky Pines.”
“Really? That’s odd.”
“Is it?” She shrugged.
A magpie swooped up and joined the owl on the branch. The black and white bird mirrored the owl’s pose, eyeing the children with interest.
“I thought owls ate magpies,” said an increasingly perplexed Milo. “This is like one of those videos where a bunny rabbit hangs out with a coyote.”
“Kinda like us,” said Lucy. “Come on, let’s hurry.”
They could still hear the distant sounds of rock music from the carnival when they reached the glittering shores of Black Hole Lake. The large body of water was almost perfectly round and very deep, and sat at the centre of the Big Crater Valley. Steam rose steadily from the inky surface in defiance of the crisp autumn air.
“It’s rather pretty, for a lake with such a sinister name.” Milo approached the water’s edge, glassy yellow pebbles crunching under his loafers. “One of the missing people disappeared from here, didn’t they?”
“Alastair Chelon disappeared from Black Hole Lake on August seventeenth,” Lucy recited, “sometime between six and nine p.m. He worked at the factory, you know. I bet that’s how he got exposed to the Nucralose so early.”
They hurried along the water’s edge, over a rocky outcropping and into a thicket.
“I still say going to the factory is a bad idea.” Milo grunted as he hopped over a rotting log.
“Think of it as an adventure,” said Lucy. “Like going to the moon. Was going to the moon a bad idea?”
“Maybe.” Milo slapped a bug on his neck. “People don’t seem to go there any more.”
Lucy frowned. “Well, they should.”
“Factories are unsafe,” said Milo. “Something could fall and smash your face in. Or you could trip into a big vat and melt your face off.”
“You seem really concerned about my face,” said Lucy. FONCH. She looked down to find a large Nu Co. cup stuck to her foot. A crumpled Nurro Churro wrapper lay next to it. “Carnival trash.”
Milo looked around. “So somebody is out here.”
“At least it’s not a bear.”
Milo gulped.
The sun disappeared behind a roil of Pacific Northwestern grey as they ducked under the twisted roots of a fallen cedar.
Up ahead, dangling from a mossy branch, was another bird feeder. Perched on the contraption, its magnificent striped wings extended for balance, was an owl. Déjà vu. It swivelled its head around backwards to look at Milo and Lucy.
“That’s the same bird we saw before,” said Milo. “I’m sure of it.”
The owl shook its feathers, then leapt from its perch and dived at the children. They squealed and ducked, their hands covering their heads. Swooping up at the last second, the bird screeched mockingly and disappeared into the treetops.
“This is starting to feel personal,” Lucy groused.
“The freaky magpie’s over there,” Milo pointed.
The black and white bird sat in a squat tree, hopping impatiently. It squawked, flew up to a higher branch and squawked again.
Lucy ran at it to scare it off, but she slipped in a puddle of something slick and landed painfully on her tailbone with a SQUISH. “Ow!” she yowled.
She clambered to her feet. “Ugh.” The back of her jeans was covered in clear, snot-like sludge.
Milo inspected the puddle. “This is like the slime we saw at the medical tent.”
Lucy’s chest felt tight. “Whoever’s out here, they’re in trouble.”
The magpie cackled and took off deeper into the woods, skimming the tops of the ferns.
Lucy noticed a glistening trail under the bird’s flight path. “It’s leading that way.”
They followed the slime through a gooseberry bush and into a darkened copse. Milo raised a shaky finger towards a wooden hut up ahead, camouflaged by perennials. Along its outer wall were darkened slits for birdwatchers to look through, undetected by wildlife.
“Bird blind,” Lucy whispered.
A soft whimpering sound was coming from the shack. Gingerly, Lucy bent down and grabbed an arm-sized stick from the forest floor. Milo did the same.
At her signal, they tiptoed along the soft ground towards the hut, the mournful sound growing louder. Outside the open doorway, a pair of worn and muddy boots lay askew on the forest floor. The shoes were overflowing with transparent slime.
Just visible inside the shadowy structure were two large, nearly human-looking feet, toes pointing skyward. The feet had an oozy sheen, and their overlong yellow toenails were growing longer by the second. Suddenly, the feet thrashed violently and their owner let out a pitiful moan. A moment later they were still again, the ball of each foot darker, the arch wider, the toes longer.
Cripe sandwiches.
Lucy gripped her improvi
sed weapon and signalled for Milo to wait where he stood. He nodded curtly and raised his stick behind him like a golf club.
Lucy crept through the doorway and squinted through her dirty glasses, her vision slowly adjusting to the blind’s dim interior. The dusty air smelled piney and vaguely sweet.
Lying across the cramped cabin floor was a large, hairy being. It lay on its back, distorted palms pressed into its eyes, its mouth drawn in an anguished grimace that revealed crooked lower fangs. A patchy grey beard was lost in the thick wiry fur creeping down its neck, shoulders, chest and legs. The remnants of denim and flannel clothing hung off its pot-bellied body. An empty cup of Nu Co. Cola lay at its side, along with a pair of broken drumsticks.
Lucy gasped. The rapidly deforming beast was none other than Steve Kozlowski, the drummer of The Sticky Six. Or, at least, it used to be.
Lucy gaped at the poor, tormented creature, her knees shaking with adrenalin. With a judder, Steve’s face contorted until it was completely unrecognisable. His brow broadened and his bottom teeth jutted out towards his cheekbones. Lucy’s stick slipped out of her hand and clattered on the wooden floor.
“S-S-S-Steve?” she stuttered.
The monster groaned like a sea lion, its eyes rolling back in his head. I don’t think Steve knows who I am right now…
The creature tried to sit up, its face shifting hideously between human and beast. It faltered and fell back to the wooden floor. Grunting and snorting like an injured wildebeest, it rolled on to its back.
“Lucy?” Milo whispered from behind the outer wall. “What’s going on in there?”
“I have to help him,” she murmured. She reached into her slimy pocket and pulled out the packet of sweets.
“What are you doing?” Milo hissed.
She took out a flattened piece of chocolate, took a deep breath and tossed it at the creature’s mouth.
The candy bounced off its blunt snout. The monstrous figure contracted to the foetal position and howled.
Startled, Milo leapt into the tent, his eyes shut tight, screaming and swinging his stick in the air. “AAAAAAHHHHHHH!” Hitting nothing, he opened his eyes. His jaw dropped. “Bigwoof?”
Lucy nodded. “BIGWOOF.”
The creature tried to rise again but stumbled.
Frantically, Lucy tossed another wad of chocolate, this time directly into the beast’s open mouth.
The creature choked and clawed at its mighty throat.
“KKKRRRAAAAAOOOOOAAAAAAAA
HHH!” Its jaw unhinged, foamy spittle hitting Lucy and Milo’s shins.
Holy hellhounds.
Milo dropped his stick, grabbed his awe-struck friend by the back of the shirt and yanked her out of the blind.
The monster tore after them, breaking through the flimsy shack, sending splinters flying.
“GAAAH!” The kids raced back along the glistening path, through the sticky grove, slipping on puddles of slime, back towards Black Hole Lake.
“RRRRNNNNNGGGXXXX … WWHHH
RRRRGGG.” Bigwoof whiffled after them, crashing and gnashing through the trees.
Lucy and Milo burst on to the lakeshore. The wind gathered and churned, steam rising and falling from the murky waters.
The towering beast stood at the treeline, fists clenched at its sides, its broad chest heaving in the swirling mist. It gazed upon the cowering companions like a grisly god and bellowed a formless haunting cry.
“KKKHHOOOOGGGGWWWWWAAA
WRRRRRRXXX!”
A loud CRACK sounded in the distance and the monster whipped around.
“Gunshot,” said Lucy. “Fish, that was a gunshot!”
The monster growled and took off in the direction of the noise.
“Bigwoof, wait!” Lucy shouted. She took off after it without a second thought.
Milo slapped himself on the cheeks. “Of course her stupid monster is real.” He swallowed his dismay and chased after her at top speed.
Lucy locked on to the abominable creature as it loped through the trees, over a hill and down towards a winding forest road. One thing was certain, this time she wasn’t alone. Milo had seen everything too. Her heart soared. No one will ever call me crazy again.
Bigwoof snuffled viciously at the edge of an embankment. Lucy scrambled up the incline and hid behind a bush a few metres away. Milo slid into the foliage beside her.
A white van, similar to the one that had transported Carlos from the fair, raced down the road below the creature. Lucy and Milo dropped to the ground as Bigwoof beat its chest and screamed like a drowning pack of wolves.
The large vehicle skidded to a stop. The van door opened and Mr Dum and Mr Dummer stepped out on to the roadway. Each of them carried a large gun.
What are they— No!
BANG! Dummer fired and the mighty beast faltered, an orange tranquilliser dart sticking out of its chest. Another BANG, this time from Dum, and a pink dart punctured Bigwoof’s thigh.
The beast wobbled, its vision going in and out of focus. Lucy watched in horror as it careened over the embankment’s edge, sprawling out on the road below.
Milo held Lucy back from rushing over to help the creature. “Stay down,” he insisted. “The clowns will see you. Let them deal with the monster.”
“That’s a person down there,” she spat. “Not a monster.”
Three more clowns jumped out of the van and surrounded the helpless hairy being. A drizzle of rain coated its coarse fur in droplets of crystal.
“Strap it in with the other one,” ordered Dummer. He ripped off his wig and threw it on the ground, running a hand through his thinning hair. “You heard me,” he barked. “Move!”
Mr Dum opened the back of the van and the other clowns hefted the creature inside. All the men piled into the vehicle and slammed the doors behind them. The engine started up.
“They’re taking it to Nu Co.” Lucy raced out from behind the bush and slid down the embankment.
“Wait!” Milo cried. He tumbled after her.
Lucy leapt on to the windowless rear of the vehicle and grasped the locked handle with both hands.
The van backed towards Milo, who hopped on, holding on to Lucy for dear life. No one got out of the vehicle to retrieve them. With all the commotion, Milo and Lucy hadn’t been noticed.
The driver shifted into gear and drove off towards the factory.
“Here we go,” Milo gulped, his eyes shut tightly.
“Here we go,” said Lucy, her eyes open wide.
Lucy’s teeth buzzed with the vibration of the van’s motor. She strained to hold on to the door with every muscle in her body as Milo tightened his grip around her waist.
“That thing can’t possibly be Steve,” Milo whispered. “How is that possible?
“I told you,” said Lucy. “It’s the FOOD.”
“There’s no way…” Milo began. “I mean, how could… Maybe it ATE Steve?”
“Believe what you want,” Lucy sighed.
The vehicle drove steadily, as though the driver was in no rush, as though there wasn’t an inexplicable cryptocreature writhing inside, concealed from the rest of the normal, rational world by nothing but a pair of metal doors.
“Still think Bigwoof’s a grolar bear?” Lucy muttered.
“Is now really the time for your inevitable ‘I told you so’?” Milo grunted.
Lucy pressed her ear to the door to listen for the beast, but all she could hear was the incessant crunch of the dirt road beneath the tyres. She wondered if the Bigwoof had woken up yet, and worried that it may never wake again after all the tranquilliser darts the clowns had shot into it. Would it ever turn back into the man who played drums in her father’s band? Or would it stay a monster forever?
Nu Co.’s private driveway cut through a vast blue orchard of sticky pines. At the end of the road lay the factory, a large brick building with a pyramidal smoke stack spewing puffs of brown smoke.
“We need to get off this thing soon,” Lucy warned.
; “If we jump, we’ll end up splattered across the road,” said Milo.
THOMP THOGGIDY.
Lucy heard a muffled sound inside the van. She leaned in and listened. “I think I hear it moving around in there,” she said. After a moment of silence she leaned away. “Never mind. I guess it was nothing.”
With a CRUNCH, the door bulged out as if struck by a cannon, right where Lucy’s head had been, the white paint cracking open like the veins of an eyeball. Something had hit the door, hard, from the inside.
“Whoa!” The metal distended again and struck Milo’s shoulder, nearly knocking them both off the vehicle.
Lucy and Milo heard the muffled sounds of shouting men as they picked up speed.
“We have to jump,” Lucy urged.
Milo shook his head, arching his body away from a blow at his back. “We’re going too fast.”
“We don’t have a choice.” Lucy leaned out and peered at the road ahead. “There’s a big turn coming up. They’ll have to slow down. We can do it then.”
Milo glanced at the gravel racing below them. “Are you crazy? I mean, I know you’re crazy, but are you nuts?”
“We’ve come too far to get caught now.” She shifted her weight and made room for Milo to grab on to the handle. “Get ready.”
As Lucy predicted, the van slowed as it rounded the corner, the beastly commotion within growing louder. Pushing her fear aside, she leapt from the vehicle to the orchard. She landed on her side and skidded into the trees, her fall cushioned by a mixed blessing of mud and pine needles.
Milo dived after her and rolled through the dirt as the van fishtailed around the bend.
He flopped down next to Lucy, sore and out of breath. “You’re bleeding,” he panted, looking at her elbows.
“So are you,” Lucy grimaced. She gently removed the pine needles sticking out of his roughed-up knees, then did the same to her arms.
“It’s a wonder I have any skin left after today.” Milo shook the gravel out of his loafers, which were scuffed beyond recognition.
They mucked their way through the soggy orchard. Each tree was covered in V-shaped gashes exposing blood-red wood beneath the pale, flaky bark. Black sap drained from the base of each V, seeping into buckets that had been nailed low to collect the sweet substance.
The Bigwoof Conspiracy Page 10