Paul Jennings' Trickiest Stories

by Paul Jennings

  ‘You want the key,’ said Borg. ‘Go get it.’

  Hacker suddenly lunged forward with open jaws. Straight through my legs. Straight into the vault.

  Why had he gone past us? Why? Why? Suddenly I realised. The key had been removed because no one took the bait. And in its place was an enormous bone.

  The dog grabbed the bone and then gave a terrible howl. His fur stood up on end and began to move like ghostly grass in a breeze. In a flash the dog was nothing but a pale image. Then he vanished.

  The vault shimmered for a second. Then it burped loudly and was gone.

  Danni and I stood so still that our feet might have been nailed to the ground. The ghost-vault had swallowed the dog. It was a nasty, savage dog. But still and all – it was a dog, a living being. It had perished in front of our eyes.

  Borg shook his head. His eyes grew round. Not with sorrow. But with selfish fear.

  Without warning he snatched the torch from Danni’s hand and ran down the tunnel.

  ‘Come back, come back,’ I yelled. ‘Give us our torch back.’

  The tunnel echoed with his reply. A piercing, hollow laugh. In a flash he rounded a corner and disappeared from sight. We were alone in the pitch dark. Without light.

  ‘I’m scared,’ I said.

  ‘So am I,’ said Danni. ‘But we have to get out of here.’

  I silently reached out and felt for her hand. We began to make our way back along the terrible tunnel with our fingers locked together. We bumped into the walls many times. We slipped and slid. But neither of us put into words the fears that gripped our guts. What if somewhere in the darkness lay a ghostly box or cage? Waiting for us to fall inside.

  Would we end up disappearing in a burp or a hiccup? Zapped. Vaporised. Swallowed.

  7

  I don’t know how long we stumbled along but finally we came upon a split in the tunnel. We both felt about in the darkness with our hands. There were two passages.

  ‘Which way?’ I said. ‘Which is the way out? I can’t see a thing.’

  ‘I bet these tunnels wander around for miles,’ said Danni. ‘Some of them might end in the wells and deep holes. If we take the wrong turn we might fall down a shaft and never get out.’

  I gave a shiver and gasped at the thought.

  ‘Take a breath,’ I said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Take a deep breath. Through your nose.’

  I heard Danni breathe deeply. But I didn’t see her smile because it was so dark.

  ‘This way,’ she yelled. ‘You’re a genius, Nelson.’

  We hurried on, following the stink of the dead possum.

  My mind was filled with crazy thoughts. Was the spirit waiting for us somewhere in the darkness ahead? Had Borg escaped and taken the Land Rover? Was he pushing it into some deep shaft at this very moment? And Dad. Poor Dad. Without his car. Without his children. How would he manage? How would he find the strength to go on?

  ‘Light,’ screamed Danni. ‘I see light.’

  We staggered to the entrance of the tunnel. Or where the entrance had been. The way was blocked by a door. A door with a brightly lit window. I peered through and saw the most amazing sight.

  A small cottage had been built up against the opening of the mine. Inside was an old bush table with rough wooden chairs. A fire burnt in a wood stove. And on the table a roast chicken sat steaming on a plate.

  I looked around. Was this a different entrance? No. Because over there against the wall I could see the stinking carcass of the dead possum. Someone had built the cottage right across the way out.

  Danni peered in at the roast chicken and licked her lips.

  But she wasn’t fooled. And neither was I. ‘Bait,’ was all she said.

  We both knew that whoever stepped into that cottage was going to meet a terrible fate. But we had to get out. We had to reach the sunshine. And get to the Land Rover.

  I looked around. Then I ran over to the dead possum. I held one hand over my mouth. And with the other I picked up the rubbery nose from where it lay on the ground.

  I rushed over to the door, opened it and threw in the nose. ‘There,’ I yelled. ‘You want food. Try that.’ I quickly slammed the door shut.

  Everything was still. Then the door flew open and the nose shot out and bounced off the mine wall like a bullet. There was a large gurgling noise like someone being sick.

  ‘It only likes live meat,’ said Danni.

  I scanned the walls of the mine. I needed something alive. But there was nothing. Except Danni. And… there, sitting on the ledge. The revolting cane toad. I pulled my hand into my sleeve and grabbed the creepy creature. Then I opened the door of the cottage and threw the toad into the kitchen.

  For a second the toad squirmed and then it grew still. And pale. Its skin turned clear and for a moment it was like a sliver of ice. Then whoosh, it vanished into steam. The whole cottage trembled and began to fade. It gave an enormous burp of satisfaction. The whole mine shook with the noise. It echoed down the tunnel like a belch in the guts of a giant.

  We were safe.

  That’s what I thought for about two seconds. Until powerful hands grabbed my shoulders and threw me onto the ground. The air was knocked from my lungs and I lay there gasping for breath.

  ‘Thanks,’ yelled Borg. ‘Good thinking. I couldn’t have done it without you.’

  He rushed past me out of the tunnel. Danni bent down beside me with a worried look. ‘Are you okay, Nelson?’ she asked.

  I couldn’t answer for several minutes. I just couldn’t breathe. Finally I managed a couple of words. ‘The car,’ I gasped.

  Danni helped me out into the fresh air and we made our way towards the river. I had to rest on Danni’s shoulder. We moved slowly.

  Finally we reached the stream. The Land Rover had gone.

  ‘Borg,’ said Danni.

  There was nothing more to say. Borg had beaten us to the car. We would never see it again. In my heart I knew that we were only kids and we couldn’t defeat a grown man. Not on our own. Borg would destroy the car. And no one would believe us.

  We had gone through all this horror for nothing.

  We walked sadly back towards the road. Trying to work out why the spirit ate some things and not others.

  ‘The spirit hates anything that harms the forest,’ I said. ‘Anything foreign. Anything introduced.’

  ‘Cane toads,’ panted Danni.

  ‘Dogs,’ I said. ‘And feral cats.’

  ‘And…’ said Danni. ‘People who want to dig or chop things down.’

  We both looked back and then hurried out of the forest as fast as we could go.

  8

  Dad was waiting for us when we reached home. He was out the front washing the Land Rover in the last light of the day. ‘Look,’ he yelled. ‘It was in Borg’s backyard after all. The police found it last night.’

  ‘Last night?’ I said.

  ‘Yes,’ said Dad. ‘Around midnight. I’ve spent all day cleaning it up.’

  ‘All day,’ I said. ‘But…’ I didn’t finish the sentence. Danni was shaking her head at me. No one would ever believe our story.

  And that is the end of the story. Borg was never seen again.

  ‘What do you think happened to him?’ Danni asked me later that night.

  I gave a laugh. ‘Well,’ I said. ‘Let’s just say that he should have thrown a cane toad into that Land Rover before he climbed into it.’

  About the author

  The Paul Jennings phenomenon began with the publication of Unreal! in 1985. Since then, readers all around the world have devoured his stories. Paul Jennings has been voted ‘favourite author’ by children in Australia over forty times. He has won every children’s choice award in Australia. In 1995 Paul was made a Member of the Order of Australia for services to children’s literature, and in 2001 he was awarded the Dromkeen Medal for services to children’s literature. In 2007, Paul Jennings’ worldwide sales surpassed 8 million copies.


  His most recent books include a guide for parents, The Reading Bug… and how to help your child to catch it, and several Rascal story books for early readers. His novel, How Hedley Hopkins Did a Dare…, was shortlisted for the 2006 Children’s Book Council of Australia Book of the Year Award: Younger Readers.

  This collection of twenty stories has been hand-picked by Paul from the UnCollected series and contains some of his trickiest and most unexpected tales.