Steve and the Sabretooth Tiger

by Dan Anthony

  Contents

  Prelims

  1. Something Lurks

  2. 29th July

  3. The Sarsaparilla Kid

  4. Two People Survive

  5. The Dentist

  6. The Library Of Dreams

  7. Mount Gneargh

  8. Flesheaters

  9. The Follower

  10. The Cat

  11. The Misty Swamps

  12. Slasher

  13. Paperwork

  Postscript

  Copyright

  Also in the Dragonfly series from Firefly

  Steve’s Dreams

  Steve and the

  Sabretooth Tiger

  Steve’s Dreams

  Steve and the

  Sabretooth Tiger

  by

  Dan Anthony

  illustrated by Huw Aaron

  1

  Something Lurks

  Life is really dangerous. They don’t tell you in school and they try not to mention it at home. It’s like a secret grown-ups think children can’t cope with. Everyone tells me I worry too much, but I think maybe they’re the ones who are pretending. Life is too scary for grown-ups.

  I remember the package arriving. It was made of brown cardboard, half envelope, half box – the sort of thing they use when you buy stuff online. But this was from the library. I know that because on the outside, in big black letters, it said: FROM THE LIBRARY. I know it was for me because then it said: FOR STEVE. When Mum showed it to me she raised one eyebrow, as if I owed them money or I’d lost one of their books or something.

  I didn’t open it. I knew I hadn’t ordered any books. It was a trick. I’ve got a nose for trouble, and that parcel was full of it. I left it on the kitchen table and nobody said any more about it.

  It stayed there for a long time. Sometimes it got covered with other things: magazines, packets of cereal, bottles of nail varnish, sugar, salt and pepper. But every now and again it would make its way to the top of the pile, as if to say, ‘Look at me.’

  ‘Open me.’

  I live in a town called Pendown just outside a big city. My part is the Oliphant Circles Estate. Oliphant Circles is a long, round road that twists in on itself – like the swirl on a snail’s shell. People from Pendown and Oliphant Circles stay in Oliphant Circles and Pendown. They go round and round.

  In school the teachers are always telling us how good it is to live in a ‘new town’. But it doesn’t look very new. It’s a lot older than me and I’m already nine. My mum was born in Pendown and she’s definitely not new. Newport, the city we’re closest to, doesn’t have ships and it isn’t new either. Nothing is what it says.

  Don’t get me wrong. I like it here. We’ve got supermarkets, McDonalds, a motorway and a multiplex cinema. There’s even a small railway station. I keep my eyes open around Oliphant Circles. I want to help people. They don’t realise that wherever you go around here, something lurks.

  On the morning of 29th July I opened my eyes quickly, like I always do, and checked for danger. I looked up through the skylight over my bunk. I scanned the sky for unusual signs: missile trails, asteroid flashes, the telltale zap lines of alien war beams. I always do this. Usually the coast is clear.

  Today all I could make out was a few seagulls floating in the blue sky like tiny faraway kites. It was going to be a hot day. Most people think sunny days are great. But too much solar radiation is bad news. My advice is simple – if it’s a nice day, don’t go out without an umbrella.

  I have the top bunk. My brother Kyled sleeps on the one below. He’s five. He’s not allowed up here because he keeps jumping off. I’m responsible. I know that if I have a bad nightmare, I could jump up, fall off the bed and crash to the floor. So I sleep on the wall side.

  I like to lie up here and watch the stars, or the clouds, or the trees on the hills that surround my town. If anybody has a go at Pendown, I’ll be the first to know.

  2

  29th July

  In the holidays, things are pretty chilled in my house. My sisters, Miffany and Jaydee, don’t usually get up in the mornings. They’re fifteen. They’re twins. They can do whatever they want.

  It was ten past nine when I walked into the kitchen to get my cereal and feed Groucho. Everybody was there: Jaydee, Miffany, Kyled, Mum and, on Skype, Dad.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Dad, ‘I’m losing the connec…’

  I saw his face on the screen. Then the screen flickered and the connection went. Everybody turned on me.

  ‘Steve!’ chorused my sisters. ‘You lost Dad.’

  ‘I never did anything,’ I said. ‘I didn’t know we had him in the first place.’

  ‘I thought you were asleep,’ said Mum.

  ‘I’m never asleep,’ I said. ‘Somebody’s got to be on the lookout.’ I pointed at my sisters. ‘They’re the ones who sleep all the time.’

  Jaydee yawned. She was dressed in a Dalmatian onesie and she had long, straight blonde hair; Miffany was a tiger with curly red hair. They’re very un-identical twins.

  ‘Did you spot any incoming missiles, Steve?’ asked Jaydee, ruffling my hair.

  ‘I think we’re OK for today,’ I said.

  ‘Intruders? Burglars? Spies?’ asked Miffany. She always liked listening to what I’d found.

  ‘I thought we’d been captured by kidnappers in the night,’ I said, ‘but it turned out to be a dream.’

  Miff bent down and whispered in my ear. She had a message from Dad. She said she’d told him I was doing my checks. He said that he was glad there was someone around who could see the bigger picture. He told her to tell me not to worry for being late.

  Jaydee moved towards the kitchen door.

  ‘Come on, Miff, we’re outta here.’

  They took their bowls of cereal and slid out of the kitchen back up to their room to watch TV.

  ‘Do you remember what day it is?’ said Mum quietly as I started putting food in Groucho’s bowl.

  ‘It’s 29th July,’ I said gloomily. I’d been thinking about it for ages. At four thirty I had my Appointment.

  ‘Then why didn’t you come down earlier?’ she asked, cupping her ‘Best Mum in the World’ mug with both hands. ‘For Dad’s birthday?’

  I stopped filling the bowl. I knew there was another reason why 29th July was important.

  My dad works in the oil industry. He’s hardly ever at home. He goes to Mexico, Scotland, Uzbekistan, Kyrgystan, Kazakhstan. He says, ‘if it’s got a “Stan” in it, that’s where I am.’ His name is Stan, by the way.

  ‘Sorry,’ I said.

  After feeding Groucho I took some toast and sat down at the table. I looked at the package, the one from the library. It was on its way back to the top of the pile again.

  Mum sipped her coffee and put some more cereal in Kyled’s bowl. He scowled at me. Jaydee and Miffany are great, they share things with me, they don’t mind me borrowing their computers or watching their TV and they always like to know what level of alert we’re on. But Kyled’s not like that. He doesn’t share.

  ‘Mum,’ said Kyled, ‘did Dad run away when he saw Steve?’

  ‘Of course not,’ said Mum as she filled Kyled’s bowl right to the top. ‘He’s such a big bonny boy,’ she said. ‘Eat up, Kyled.’

  Kyled glared at me as he spooned the new bowlful into his mouth. His bright blue eyes caught the sunlight flashing in through the kitchen windows. I’d been monitoring Kyled’s rapid growth rate over the past two years. He was already the biggest boy in the infant school and he was strong too. He was becoming a monster-boy.

  ‘Steve kept me awake last night,’ said Kyled.

  Mum sipped her tea.

  ‘He kept tossing and turning and screamin
g out loud,’ said Kyled.

  ‘Shut up, Kyled,’ I said.

  ‘Nooo, Aaaargh. Nooooo. Aaaargh. All night long,’ said Kyled.

  ‘Is this right?’ asked Mum. She rested the palm of her hand on my forehead. I felt foolish.

  ‘He’s talking rubbish,’ I said, ‘just like he always does. He’s a rubbish-talker, that Kyled.’

  Kyled licked his bowl, just like Groucho, who, in case you are wondering, is our dog. A small, brown Yorkshire terrier.

  ‘Screamed all night like a little baby,’ shouted Kyled, jumping down from his chair at the kitchen table. ‘Waaa, waaa, waaa.’

  ‘Kyled, why don’t you go out into the garden and play on the trampoline,’ said Mum. ‘I’ll count the bounces.’

  ‘Nice one,’ said Kyled and he rushed out into the garden.

  I kept an eye on Mum as she watched Kyled. She started to count, ‘One, two, three…’

  ‘I wasn’t trying to keep Kyled awake,’ I said, reassuringly. ‘It was just a dream.’

  ‘Why don’t you go outside and enjoy yourself too, Steve? It’s a lovely morning,’ she said. ‘And try not to worry so much. Most things turn out all right in the end.’

  ‘Outside?’ I looked through the kitchen window at the blue sky above Kyled’s bouncing head. ‘Can I borrow your umbrella?’

  Mum ignored me. She must have lost her brolly.

  ‘… eleven, twelve, thirteen…’

  As she counted the bounces, Mum picked a magazine off the pile of stuff at the end of the table.

  I saw it again. Those big black letters: ‘FROM THE LIBRARY. FOR STEVE.’ The parcel had come back to the surface.

  I reached out and touched it. Perhaps today was the day I would open it.

  Mum stood by the kitchen window half watching Kyled bounce as she flicked through the pages of the magazine.

  ‘… thirty-three, thirty-four, thirty-five…’

  I turned the package over in my hands. It felt explosive. Perhaps if I opened it there would be an almighty Kerbooom!! Goodbye Steve. Hello invasion force sweeping through Oliphant Circles. That was a strong possibility. But there were other people who wanted me out of the picture. Spies don’t like me because I’m always trying to spot them. Alien invaders have to keep clear of my patch of sky because I’m always checking for them.

  ‘… forty-seven, forty-eight, forty-nine…’

  On the other hand – maybe the package was from someone who needed help.

  ‘Why don’t you go and play football?’ asked Mum as she counted and read the magazine. Mum always says she’s very good at multi-tasking.

  ‘Go out and play, Steve. Please,’ she added, ‘we’ve got to go at twelve.’

  Twelve?! I thought that my Appointment was at four thirty. Suddenly my time had been cut by half. That was when I realised I had nothing to lose. If I wanted to find out what was in the package, I needed to look right now.

  I ripped the cardboard.

  Mum turned and watched. She stopped counting.

  ‘It’s about time you opened that,’ she said, ‘I checked at the library. We haven’t ordered anything.’

  ‘As if this was sent by a real librarian,’ I muttered as I stuck my hand in. I felt something soft. I closed my eyes tight and pulled it out.

  Nothing exploded.

  I opened my eyes.

  It was a hat. A green baseball hat with ‘Library’ written on it in big yellow letters. I put it on. It fitted perfectly. It had a big peak to keep the sun off and was made of good material. It was just right for keeping the solar radiation off, better than an umbrella.

  I smiled. Now it was OK to go out the back to play football.

  ‘Somebody likes you,’ joked Mum, ‘at the library.’

  3

  The Sarsaparilla Kid

  The back garden of our house isn’t exactly great to play in. There’s a patio between the kitchen and the side path. I’m not allowed to play there because Mum’s got her terracotta pots all over the place. Then there’s the lawn, which is really a patch of earth with tufts of straggly grass on it, Groucho wees on it and Kyled keeps his trampoline there.

  It’s more like a house than a trampoline. It’s got an entrance, which you unzip, and walls made out of netting so that Kyled doesn’t fly off into someone else’s garden. He spends hours in there, throwing himself around like a Tasmanian devil. And he makes weird noises. He yells and shouts. It can be disturbing if you don’t know he’s actually having a good time.

  I picked up my football and went into the garden, and then through the gate into the back lane.

  It was hot in the back lane, hotter than usual: too hot to kick the ball off the wall for long. In the end I sat on the ball and threw little sticks for Groucho to fetch. But Groucho was hot too. His tongue hung out of his mouth and he kept looking at me with his big black eyes as if to say: ‘You know I normally like fetching sticks? Well, today I’m not so sure. It’s boiling.’

  ‘Hi,’ said a familiar voice.

  Toby, or ‘Tobes’ as he likes to be known, had shown up.

  I looked up at Toby. He was wearing the Villa Real t-shirt my mum had given him after we came back from Spain. He was bigger than me, older than me, and, although I feel bad for saying this, sometimes a bit dull. Even throwing little sticks for Groucho was more fun than Tobes.

  ‘Hi,’ he said again, ‘hot, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said.

  ‘Cool library hat.’

  I nodded. Library hats aren’t cool, I know that for a fact. If Toby thinks something is cool you can pretty much guarantee it isn’t.

  ‘Where did you get it from?’

  I wanted to say, ‘The library, duh.’ But that wasn’t true. The truth was, I didn’t know where it had come from – all I knew is that it was an excellent anti-solar flare radiation device, brilliant if you don’t have an umbrella.

  ‘Around,’ I said.

  ‘What you doing?’ asked Toby.

  ‘Enjoying myself,’ I said. ‘My mum asked me to go outside and enjoy myself.’ I didn’t say it was because she knows this was probably my last day on earth. Because of my Appointment.

  ‘You going down the shop?’ asked Toby.

  I looked up at him. He was thirteen. Surely he was smart enough to realise that sitting on a football throwing sticks for the dog because you’ve been told to enjoy yourself is not the same as going down the shop. What he meant was that he was going down the shop and he wanted me to go too.

  ‘I’m going down the shop,’ he announced.

  I found myself walking with Toby, kicking the ball along. Groucho trotted behind us. I explained to Toby about the sunspots and global warming. Looking back, I suppose you could say I was enjoying myself.

  ‘No way, Steve,’ said Toby, wide-eyed after I’d told him how hot things were going to get. ‘Better get a drink then, to cool us down. They’ve got sarsaparilla. D’you want a sarsaparilla?’

  Toby had this thing about drinks – he said it was good to buy the weird ones because if you didn’t, the shop wouldn’t bother getting them anymore.

  ‘Is it safe?’ I asked.

  ‘I’ve been drinking it for ages and it hasn’t done me any harm,’ said Toby. ‘It’s a cool brew.’

  I nodded. No doubt sarsaparilla was very uncool.

  When Mum came into the back lane at ten past twelve, I was showing Toby how to download a temperature-recording app onto his phone and Groucho was lapping sarsaparilla from an old curry carton.

  ‘Sorry, Toby,’ I said, when I saw Mum, ‘this is it.’

  Toby didn’t understand.

  I shook his hand and told him there was a good chance this would be our last meeting.

  At 4.30 pm I was due to be strapped into a chair. Just imagine. It’s the end of a very hot day. The dentist has been seeing patients for hours. I sit in her chair, the plastic all sticky and sweaty. She holds up one of those prongy things for poking around your teeth. I close my eyes. Then she comes towards me and
– trips on a cable. She pushes her hands out to stop herself falling into me. She forgets about the prongy thing. Pow!

  No more Steve.

  In this heat, last thing on a Friday, it was bound to happen.

  ‘Goodbye, Toby,’ I said, ‘remember what I told you.’

  Toby had already forgotten.

  4

  Two People Survive

  Mum’s a teacher, so during the summer holidays she’s quite free, although she runs extra classes for adult learners. She uses the money from those lessons to pay for things like Kyled’s trampoline and her terracotta pots.

  Mum is head of Spanish at Pendown Comprehensive School. There is only one Spanish teacher in the school – Mum. She’s what they call a one woman band. Spain to Mum is hot and lovely but far away. Whereas Wales is wet, miserable and right by here. She lives in Oliphant Circles, but she thinks she’s in Spain. I keep telling her, ‘Mum, you’re not Spanish.’ Mum says one day we’ll all move to Spain.

  This was the plan: I would sit at the back of Mum’s Spanish lesson. She’d give me some really manky old crayons and some bits of paper so that I could do drawing. She wouldn’t give me an iPad or laptop or any of the things her students had, because she said I might break it. Basically, I’d be expected to be invisible for two hours. Then she’d take me to the dentist. Then we’d go to the supermarket.

  As we drove along the Western Distributor Road I tried to persuade her to leave out the dentist part.

  ‘Mrs Etherington is a brilliant dentist,’ said Mum.

  ‘She never has accidents. All she wants to do is give you a check-up.’

  ‘In this heat,’ I said, ‘even the best people lose their concentration.’

  ‘Please be quiet in the lesson, Steve,’ said Mum, as she pulled off the dual carriageway and drove towards the old church where they hold the Spanish class. ‘Could you take that hat off?’