by Steve Cole
Contents
Cover
About the Book
Title Page
Dedication
Map of Trashland
Once Upon a Slime . . .
Chapter One: Beware the Lair
Chapter Two: Make it Snappy
Chapter Three: End of the Slime!
Chapter Four: Powerless!
Chapter Five: Bags of Danger
Chapter Six: A Taste of Trouble
Chapter Seven: Into the Underzone
Chapter Eight: Bad to the Bones
Chapter Nine: Bone Idol!
Chapter Ten: Crunch Time
Also by Steve Cole
Copyright
About the Book
IT’S TIME TO FIGHT CRIME WITH SLIME!
Plog, Furp, Zill and Danjo aren’t just monsters in a rubbish dump. They are crime-busting super-monsters, here to save their whiffy world!
There’s a scary new super-villain about! Backed up by a monstrous army of mutant alligators, he’s planning to take over Trashland. What a time for the Slime Squad to lose their special slimy powers . . . !
For Isabella Kench
ONCE UPON A SLIME . . .
The old rubbish dump was far from anywhere. An enormous, mucky, rusty landscape of thousands of thrown-away things.
It had been closed for years. Abandoned. Forgotten.
And then Godfrey Gunk came along.
Godfrey wasn’t just a mad scientist. He was a SUPER-BONKERS scientist! And he was very worried about the amount of pollution and rubbish in the world. His dream was to create marvellous mutant mini-monsters out of chemical goo – monsters who would clean up the planet by eating, drinking and generally devouring all types of trash. So Godfrey bought the old rubbish dump as the perfect testing-ground and got to work.
Of course, he wanted to make good, friendly, peaceful monsters, so he was careful to keep the nastiest, most toxic chemicals separate from the rest. He worked for years and years . . .
And got nowhere.
In the end, penniless and miserable, Godfrey wrecked his lab, scattered his experiments all over the dump, and moved away, never to return.
But what Godfrey didn’t know was that long ago, tons of radioactive sludge had been accidentally dumped there. And soon, its potent powers kick-started the monster chemistry the mad scientist had tried so hard to create!
Life began to form. Amazing mini-monsters sprang up with incredible speed. Bold, inventive monsters, who made a wonderful, whiffy world for themselves from the rubbish around them – a world they named Trashland.
For many years, they lived and grew in peace. But then the radiation reached a lead-lined box in the darkest corner of the rubbish dump – the place where Godfrey had chucked the most toxic, dangerous gunk of all.
Slowly, very slowly, monsters began to grow here too.
Different monsters.
Evil monsters that now threaten the whole of Trashland.
Only one force for good stands against them. A small band of slightly sticky superheroes . . .
The Slime Squad!
Chapter One
BEWARE THE LAIR
The mist was thick as cold grey custard, and the wind howled like a hundred scalded cats. Struggling through the gloom came Plog the monster, his orange fur on end, his long ears flapping in the gale. How long had he been trudging through these Murky Badlands? It felt like for ever . . .
Plog glimpsed something dark and massive up ahead. The fog parted for a few seconds to reveal a ramshackle castle made of old packing crates painted night-black and blood-red. Fenced in by barbed wire, it looked fearfully forbidding.
“At last!” Plog turned and yelled: “Guys, come quickly. Lord Klukk’s secret stronghold – we’ve found it!”
Plog’s team-mates – Furp, Zill and Danjo – came running out of the misty wilderness. Together they were the Slime Squad, squelchy superheroes who protected innocent monsters all over Trashland.
And right now, they looked extremely apprehensive.
Not long ago they had finally beaten their worst enemy – the evil criminal chicken mastermind Lord Klukk – for good. His plans to conquer Trashland had come to nothing, but his secret lair still remained, lost in the sinister fringes of this wild and whiffy rubbish-dump world . . .
Until now.
Furp, the sticky frog-monster with the big brain and even bigger metal pants, surveyed the fortress ahead of them.
“Getting inside won’t be easy,” he murmured. “Klukk will have left traps behind for the unwary.”
“But we have to break in,” said Zill, a sassy six-legged poodle-skunk with a big bushy tail. “Klukk may have gone, but his base must be stuffed full of gruesome gadgets and evil experiments.” She shook her head and set her poodly pompoms rocking. “We can’t risk some other wannabe evil genius pinching it all to keep up the bad work. Just imagine what they could do!”
“I’d rather not.” Danjo, a crimson crab-monster, raised his big pincers. “Enough hanging about – let’s sort this place out!” He strode off through the fog on his three sturdy legs, heading for the high fence. “Luckily I’ve got built-in wire cutters . . .” He closed his pincers on the taut barbed wire. TWANG! The fence parted, and a high whistling note sounded – like something falling . . .
“Look out!” yelled Plog. He dived at Danjo, knocking him clear as – THUNK! – a massive spear dropped down from above and spiked deep into the mud where the crab-creature had been standing.
“Whoa!” Danjo gulped. “Thanks, Plog – I was almost crab-on-a-stick!”
Furp hopped over. “I suggest we go carefully from now on.”
“Very carefully,” Zill agreed. “I’ll try to open the door from here.” She judged the distance to the castle’s thick steel door. Then, like a fisherman casting a line, she spat a sticky strand of slime towards it. SPLAT! The end of her slimy rope struck the metal – and burst into electric crackles! Zill quickly dropped the slime-line, and it fell smoking to the ground . . .
Setting off a hidden landmine just ahead of them!
KROOOM! The deafening explosion sent the Squaddies staggering. Danjo swiftly raised his right pincer and squirted out a thick shield of icy slime to protect them from the worst of the blast.
“Good work, Danjo,” Plog murmured. “That was too close.”
“A diabolical trap,” Furp agreed. “Klukk fixed it so that anyone who made it through the minefield would get zapped by the door instead.”
“So how do we get inside?” asked Danjo, lowering his icy shield.
Plog threw a clod of mud at the door. This time nothing happened. “Hmm, looks like the door’s run out of zap-power. Zill, try hitting it with another slime-line to make sure.”
“You’re the boss, Fur-boy.” Zill coughed up another slimy strand and, with a jerk of her head, slung it at the door. This time it stuck – and Plog tied the other end to the upright spear.
“There!” he declared. “Now we can dodge the mines by walking this tightrope all the way to the entrance!”
Furp went first, hopping carefully across. Zill scampered on all six of her tippy-toes. Plog and Danjo clung to the slimy strand like pegs to a washing line, shinning their way across to the door. They were big as monsters went, and their backs scraped perilously close to the minefield below. But finally they made it over and stood beside their friends.
Plog studied the front door. “Is this the only way in?”
Effortlessly, Furp scaled the side of the castle with his sticky hands and feet. He peered around, then hurried back down. “There are no other doors or windows that I can see.”
“Then we’ll just have to risk any booby traps that mig
ht be behind this thing.” Plog looked down at his heavy iron boots – then kicked the door with all his strength. KLANNGGGG! The metal slab was smashed off its hinges and slammed to the floor . . .
To reveal a growling, scaly beast in the hallway ahead of them! It looked to be part alligator and part wolf, with tough green skin, glaring red eyes, and jaws that bristled with fangs. It stood in front of a large wooden door, barring the way.
“Uh-oh,” said Danjo. “I think we’ve just found Klukk’s guard dog!”
“It must’ve been cooped up for ages!” Zill spat out a slime-line and lassoed it around the creature’s neck. “Come on, Fido – here’s your lead, it’s time for walkies!”
But the beast didn’t like its sticky collar. It shook itself wildly – with such force that Zill was sent crashing into the wall!
“Bad move, gator-wolf!” said Plog, helping the dazed Zill to her feet. “Danjo – give our unfriendly hound the hot slime special!”
“Coming right up!” Danjo sloshed the sinister sentry with a steaming blast. But the gator-wolf simply caught it in its mouth, gargled – then advanced threateningly.
“I’ve got an idea,” said Plog. “Furp, can you distract it?”
“Let’s find out!” With blistering speed, Furp began bouncing between the walls, zooming over the snarling creature’s head.
The gator-hound swiped at him and clawed the walls where Furp had landed as if trying to wipe off the frog-monster’s footprints.
Meanwhile Plog pulled off his heavy metal boot. It was full of water – it had to be, because whenever Plog’s ugly great tootsies were exposed to the air . . .
“Quick, Zill,” groaned Danjo. “Cover your nose – before Plog’s slime flows!”
The gator-wolf roared and advanced on Plog – then went cross-eyed. Revolting yellow slime was already dripping from Plog’s unpleasant toes, and the stench was strong enough to floor an elephant. Plog flicked his foot, and a big gloopy drop splatted over the animal’s head. With a shriek and a roar, it fled past Plog and rushed outside, Zill’s slime-line still trailing from its neck. It cleared the mines, landed by the barbed-wire fence and vanished into the fog, making strange barking noises.
“Well done, Fur-boy!” cheered Zill, as Plog put his yucky foot back into his boot. “You scared it away!”
“I suppose I must have,” said Plog thoughtfully. “But that noise it made as it left – it almost sounded like laughter . . .”
Still sticking to the ceiling, Furp pressed on towards the wooden door at the far end of the hall. “Come on, let’s see what it was guarding.”
Carefully he pushed open the door. Plog clenched his fists, Zill reared up on her two back legs and Danjo held out his pincers – all of them ready for anything . . .
But instead, they found –
“Nothing!” Furp frowned. “This room is empty!”
Zill checked all about. “You’re right. No mean machines or weird inventions. The whole place has been cleared out.”
Danjo and Plog stared in puzzlement. Sure enough, the vast metal chamber had been stripped bare.
“But why would that gator-hound stay here to guard an empty room?” Danjo wondered.
“I have no idea.” As Plog walked into the room, the door swung closed behind him – to reveal an envelope taped there.
“Hey, look!” Zill pulled it off. “It’s addressed to us.”
“Careful, Zill!” Furp plucked it out of her paws. “It might be another trap.”
“I’ll open it,” said Plog bravely. He pulled out the piece of paper inside and read:
Dear Slime Squad,
Thank you for giving me all I need – you fools!
Yours disagreeably,
D.O.S.
Danjo scratched his red head. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Who or what is D.O.S.?” Furp added.
“And how did they know we’d be coming?” said Zill.
“I have no idea,” said Plog, feeling oddly unnerved. Even now, he thought he could hear the scaly wolf-thing’s sinister sniggering in the distance. “But I have a feeling that sooner or later we’re going to find out!”
Chapter Two
MAKE IT SNAPPY
Plog sat quietly as Zill drove the Squaddies home in the Slime-mobile, their supercharged invisible transport. He couldn’t stop puzzling over D.O.S. and his mysterious note.
“I’m sure the All-Seeing PIE will have the answers,” said Danjo when they reached their secret cellar headquarters.
Zill parked, and Plog led the charge to ask PIE his opinion.
“Ah, there you are,” boomed PIE tetchily. “About time!” His name was short for Perfect Intelligent Electronics; not only was he an amazing supercomputer, he was the Squad’s big boss. He had sensors scattered all over Trashland, which meant that he could detect trouble anywhere at any time – and send the Squad off to sort it out.
“PIE,” said Plog, “we found Klukk’s old base in the Badlands – but weird stuff happened . . .”
PIE listened in silence as Plog explained.
“It seems to me,” said Furp, “that this D.O.S. – whoever or whatever it may be – was the one who removed everything from Lord Klukk’s base.”
“But how did they get past the traps without setting them off?” wondered Zill. “How did they dodge that dodgy ‘guard dog’?”
“Yeah,” said Danjo, waving the mocking note. “And what does D.O.S. even mean?”
“Drain our sink!” PIE squawked suddenly.
Furp frowned. “You mean that is what D.O.S. stands for?”
“No,” said PIE, “I mean the sink’s blocked up with potato peelings and the water is starting to pong. So drain it!”
Danjo sighed, scooted over and blasted the offending scraps with sizzling slime.
“But you must have some idea of what’s going on, PIE?” said Plog.
“Of course,” PIE replied. “To answer your question, Zill, it is obvious how D.O.S. got past those traps and obstacles. They were simply not there when he – or she, or it – emptied the place. D.O.S. then set the traps for whoever followed, and left that animal locked inside.”
“But D.O.S. must’ve expected us to get past those obstacles, ’cos he left us the note,” Plog pointed out. “So why bother?”
PIE remained silent, question marks drifting across his cracked screen.
Then, suddenly, his built-in alarm went off, and they were replaced by exclamation marks. “Warning! Robbery in progress at Quarkly’s rank bank in Pan Francisco. Green reptile monsters detected . . .”
Zill gasped. “Like that ‘guard dog’?”
“We’d better get on the case,” said Plog, running back towards the Slime-mobile. “’Cos when danger looms large, the Slime Squad shout CHARGE!”
And charge they did, all the way to the cookware metropolis of Pan Fransisco. Here, old pots and pans and utensils had been turned into shops and houses – and Plog saw that Quarkly’s rank bank was based inside an upturned deep-fat fryer. Little greasy monsters were fleeing in panic, but he could see none of the green reptiles PIE had reported.
As Zill brought the Slime-mobile to a screeching halt outside the rank bank, Plog piled out with Danjo and Furp. “Let fear disappear,” he cried, “the Slime Squad is here!”
“Thank gonkness!” A small orange monster bustled up to him. “The crooks are inside. They’ve gone downstairs to our underground vault – where all the money is kept.”
Zill jumped down from the invisible vehicle to join her team-mates. “We’d better get checking.”
“And then we’ll get decking!” Danjo thumped his pincers together to stress the point. “Bad guys, beware. Let’s go!”
Plog led the way inside the rank bank and paused beside a set of steps.
Trashland’s cash was printed on used toilet paper – the whiffier the wad, the more it was worth – and Plog’s sensitive snout told him that there was a fortune down here. “We’d better be ready for anythin
g,” he whispered.
Zill, Furp and Danjo nodded gravely, and padded down the steps after him.
The downstairs room was hollowed out of thick clay. Dozens of safes of different shapes and sizes studded three of the walls, and a gigantic bank vault dominated the fourth. The thick steel door hung open, and Plog could see a dozen green monsters moving about inside, each as big as he was.
They looked like crocodiles or alligators, but walked upright on scaly legs. Oddly, the reptiles wore black shorts, with a ragged black tie around their necks.
More oddly still, they didn’t seem to be stealing the money at all. They were simply picking it up and chucking it out of the vault.
Plog took a deep breath and leaped down the last few steps. “Hold it, you lot – the Slime Squad’s here!”
The twelve reptiles paused. Then they filed out of the vault to face the Squaddies, yellow eyes agleam.
“Let’s not be rash – put down all that cash,” growled Danjo.
“We’ve caught you robbers red-handed,” Zill added.
“Well, green-handed, really,” Furp continued, swallowing hard. “But you know what we mean.”
“No we don’t!” came a slithery yet commanding voice from inside the vault. “My gators aren’t sssstealing this money. We are merely moving it.”
Plog blinked as an extraordinary figure stepped out in front of them. He was an alligator too, walking upright like the others, but he wore a wide-brimmed black hat, an eye-mask and a dark, swirling cape. He carried a diamond-topped cane in one claw, but his brilliant white teeth shone brighter than any precious stone.
“I am the Duke of SSSnap,” hissed the oddly-clothed creature, his eyes shining. “Do I understand you have a problem with us being here?”
“I’ve got problems with your dress sense,” Plog retorted. “You look ludicrous!”