by Dan Anthony
They were completely disorientated, surrounded by quicksand and encased in heavy mist that seemed to push them downwards into the water.
‘Can we just go back?’ said the girl.
‘I can’t tell where “back” is.’
‘And if you can’t do that, you don’t know where forward is,’ added One Punch, helpfully.
‘My mum’s got a word for you,’ hissed Steve, ‘“backseat driver”. She says that to me all the time when I tell her to slow down.’
‘Nobody’s telling you to slow down, boy,’ barked One Punch. ‘Get going, that’s what we’re saying. Get going and let’s get out of here.’
Steve bent down and felt the mud with his hands. If he didn’t know better he would say that the water lapping around his sheepskin boots was getting deeper.
‘Do they have tides around here?’ he asked.
‘When the ice melts on the mountains, the waters get deeper,’ said the girl.
Steve’s boots were soaking, the swamp was filling fast.
‘Why didn’t you tell me this would happen before we set off?’
‘Are you saying I’m stupid?’ asked One Punch.
‘I just think it would have been good to have mentioned that the swamp was flooding. We’re not going to die in the quicksand. We’re going to drown in the meltwater from the glaciers.’
‘What’s that?’ shouted the girl.
Everybody followed the direction she was pointing in. Steve could just about make out an object moving slowly into view. It was a very big grey-looking shape and it slid towards them like a long mean crocodile.
‘A crock,’ screamed One Punch, ‘typical.’
Another thing she forgot to mention, thought Steve as he watched the shape. It didn’t look like a crocodile to him. More like a piece of wood. He reached out, he could almost touch it. The water was deep now, above his knees. As his huge sheepskin coat soaked up the water, it pulled Steve down.
Without saying anything to the others Steve knew what to do. He let go of the girl’s hand and waded off towards the shape. Even now, surrounded by water, blinded by the mist, weighed down by his sheepskin, he still felt that someone was watching him. He pushed himself forward and grabbed the floating log. He wasn’t disappointed, it wasn’t a log; it was a wooden canoe, fitted out with paddles and wooden storage boxes. In the front was a pile of animal skins. Steve guessed it must have come adrift upstream as the water levels rose.
‘Steve,’ shouted the girl, ‘where are you? Come back.’
‘He’s gone,’ said One Punch. ‘They all do that, this one’s just chosen a really bad moment to do a runner.’
With great difficulty Steve hauled himself into the canoe. He took the paddle and shouted.
‘It’s OK, I’ve found a boat, make a noise and I’ll find you.’
‘What kind of noise,’ shouted the girl.
‘I dunno,’ said Steve, ‘any kind of noise – sing.’
‘What do you want us to sing?’ said One Punch.
Steve paddled the canoe around, he wasn’t far away but he couldn’t quite pinpoint the source of their voices.
‘Just sing,’ he yelled. ‘Don’t you have a Neanderthal song, something that makes you feel really good?’
One Punch and the girl did know a song. It was the oddest thing that Steve had ever heard. One Punch and the girl sang slowly in sad, low voices. Steve could make out some of the words over the sound of the splashing paddle.
‘Neanderthals don’t rap, we don’t do hip hop,
We hardly ever sing.
It’s not that we don’t like rap, and we don’t like hip hop,
We just don’t like to sing.’
Then they laughed. Then they sang it again, and again, and again.
As they sang, Steve was able to swing his canoe around and paddle back towards them. They kept singing when they saw his canoe. They continued as they scrambled into the canoe. They carried on singing as they paddled as fast as they could downstream. And when they burst out from the swamp into the afternoon sunshine on the opposite bank they sang even louder. It was such a relief to be free from the miserable weight of the Misty Swamp.
Finally, they stopped singing.
‘One thing I’ve learned about you Neanderthals,’ said Steve, as they floated downstream.
‘What?’ asked One Punch.
‘You need better songs,’ said Steve.
12
Slasher
Steve lay back on the skins piled at the front of the boat, the Ice Baby nestled in next to him, with the blue dummy firmly stuffed in his mouth. Steve popped his finger in the Ice Baby’s hand. He felt the little fingers wrap around his.
‘You know,’ he whispered, ‘you’re not an Ice Baby any more – you’re a nice baby.’
The girl sat at the back of the canoe, guiding it with her paddle as it slipped along the surface of the river. One Punch sat in the middle of the boat issuing instructions.
‘Left hand down, don’t get too close to the bank,’ she said.
Steve stretched out. He could feel his toes wiggling deep in his sheepskin boots. He felt safe, happy and, for the first time, he didn’t feel worried. He’d lost that nagging feeling that he was being followed. Whoever it was that had been tracking them couldn’t keep up with the canoe. The mountains were far in the distance. Now they were floating down a beautiful lazy river through warm lush countryside.
He watched One Punch. She never rested, she kept going, she was strong and she meant what she said. He liked her.
He didn’t notice the sabretooth tigers padding silently along both banks of the river. All Steve saw was smooth blue water, tree-lined riverbanks and rolling hills.
‘This is fantastic,’ said Steve, adjusting one of the skins he was leaning on.
‘Don’t get too comfortable,’ laughed One Punch. ‘We’re about to pull over.’
Steve couldn’t get comfortable. He yanked at one of the skins, trying to make a pillow. He guessed there would be time for a little doze in the afternoon sunlight.
But the pillow moved. Or the animal skin moved. Steve pulled it again, thinking that maybe the rocking of the canoe was shifting them around. But the skin seemed not to want to move now. Steve turned and started pulling at all the skins in the front of the boat. He threw them out of the way. Some landed in the canoe, others sploshed into the river water.
‘Keep still, Steve,’ shouted the girl. ‘You’ll tip us over.’
But Steve wasn’t keeping still. Underneath the animal skins he’d found something extraordinary.
‘Get back,’ shouted Steve, leaping towards One Punch in the middle of the canoe.
One Punch fell forward; the girl almost dropped her paddle. Cowering behind Steve in the front of the canoe, half hidden by the animal skins, was a boy. He covered his face with his hands.
‘Don’t kill me,’ he cried.
One Punch and Steve exchanged glances. The girl pulled the canoe out of the main flow of the river.
‘Who are you?’ asked Steve.
The boy shrank back.
‘Have you been following us?’ he demanded.
‘I hid in the canoe. I wasn’t expecting it to float off. I’ve run away.’
‘Great,’ snarled Steve, ‘that’s all we need.’
The boy sat up.
‘Promise you won’t kill me with your stone,’ whispered the boy.
The girl eyed the boy suspiciously.
‘How do you know about Steve’s stone?’ she asked.
‘I knew it,’ said Steve, ‘he’s been on our tail ever since we met Headcase and the Flesheaters.’
The girl approached the boy. She sniffed him. She looked at the tattoos on his arms and legs. She ran her fingers through his hair.
‘I’ve got bad news,’ she said. ‘This kid is a Flesheater.’
‘Don’t kill me,’ said the boy. ‘I ran away because I hate being a Flesheater. For a start, I don’t like the taste, and for seconds, I can’t
stand my dad.’
‘My dad’s in Khazakstan,’ said Steve. ‘I don’t go running off all the time.’
‘Your dad isn’t King Headcase,’ said the boy.
Steve sat down on the floor of the canoe. Now he buried his head in his hands.
‘I thought you were so brave, standing up to him,’ said the boy. ‘He’s such a bully. I wish I could have done it.’
Steve took a peep at the boy through his fingers.
‘Do you know a kid called Toby?’ he asked.
The boy looked blank.
‘Tobes?’ added Steve.
The boy looked even blanker.
‘Take me with you,’ he said. ‘Take me wherever you’re going. I want to get as far away from my horrible tribe as I possibly can.’
‘We can’t exactly send you home, can we?’ said the girl, paddling the canoe towards a small beach on the riverbank.
‘You can’t come with us,’ said One Punch. ‘I’m a Neanderthal. You wouldn’t want to spend the rest of your life hanging around with Neanderthals.’
‘Why not?’ said the boy. He looked at the Ice Baby, lying next to him. The baby watched him then smiled.
‘I can help,’ he said, tickling the baby under its chin. It gurgled with pleasure.
Steve hopped out of the canoe, he and the girl pulled it up onto the beach.
‘I think he’s kind of cute,’ she said.
Steve sighed and shook his head in disbelief. The boy passed the baby to Steve. Then he jumped out of the canoe, splashing in the water.
‘What’s your name?’ asked Steve.
‘Slasher,’ said the boy, quietly, ‘Slasher Headcase.’
‘Wow,’ said the girl, ‘cool name.’
Steve felt irritated, he didn’t like the way the girl seemed happy with the presence of a complete stranger from an enemy tribe. But he knew that if Slasher hadn’t followed them, hidden in the canoe and got washed into the swamp they would have all drowned in the mist. They’d never have made it.
‘Come on,’ said Steve, ‘we haven’t got much time left.’
Before they scrambled up the riverbank and onto the plain, Steve took Slasher aside.
‘Are you scared of sabretooth tigers?’ he asked.
‘Petrified,’ said Slasher unhappily.
‘Stick with me,’ said Steve.
He turned to One Punch.
‘This is it,’ he said, ‘we’re almost home.’
The old Neanderthal smiled.
‘You know,’ she said, ‘when I first punched you in the face I thought you were going to be the most useless warrior I’d ever come across. It turns out you’re not a bad warrior after all.’
‘Follow me,’ said Steve.
He walked away from the river and out into the plain. He knew the sabretooth tigers would be watching them.
The sun slipped down in the sky glowing like a huge orange, throwing red light across the yellow grass all around.
‘What are we doing, Steve?’ asked the girl, ‘this place is full of tigers. They’ll scoff us before sunset.’
‘Just walk,’ said Steve, leading the way, ‘I think we’ll be OK.’
They trudged out into the grassland leaving the river behind them.
Steve led the way, One Punch followed, carrying the Ice Baby on her back. The girl and Slasher hurried along at the rear chatting.
‘What’s your name?’ asked Slasher.
‘Jaydee,’ said the girl.
‘Wow,’ said Slasher, ‘cool name.’
From the top of a low hill, hidden by the long grass, the sabretooth tigers stared at Steve, One Punch, Slasher, Jaydee and the baby. One tiger, with just one sabre tooth and a hole where the rotten one used to be, smiled, if it is possible for a sabretooth tiger to smile. The strangers who saved his life would be allowed to go free.
The baby was safe.
The tigers never came.
13
Paperwork
‘Have you got the dummy?’ The librarian looked up at Steve from behind his wide wooden desk.
Steve shook his head. He pointed at the rock, which he’d plonked down near the librarian’s notebook next to his old sheepskin clothes.
‘I’ve checked that off the list. According to our records we provided you with a sheepskin suit, a paperweight and a blue dummy which was positioned in a freezer full of chips in a supermarket in Pendown,’ said the librarian, adding: ‘we’re a hat and a dummy down.’
Big Mo watched from the side, his brow furrowed.
‘For goodness sake, Welshy,’ he said, handing back the library cap, ‘you lost the woolly hat too?’
‘Actually, it was smashed off my head by a lunatic who wanted to kill me,’ said Steve adjusting his pyjamas, ‘and the name’s Steve,’ he added, ‘not Welshy.’
‘He didn’t kill you though, did he? You should have collected the hat up and brought it back to us nicely. Next time, Steve, you’ll have to be more careful,’ said Big Mo.
‘I just saved the last Neanderthal,’ said Steve. ‘We’re all related to the last Neanderthal and I just saved the last Neanderthal.’
‘Going on about your achievements isn’t going to get that hat back,’ said Big Mo.
He turned to the librarian.
‘Make a note – lost in transit – we’ll send someone back for it later.’
Big Mo held the door to the wooden booth open and led Steve back into the Library of Dreams. They walked back to the great arch. Steve looked out. He could see the little town of Pendown spread out beneath him. He could make out the roundabouts and dual carriageways with their bright orange lights, and the distant dark hills. He could see his street and the sloping roof of his house. The window over his bed was half open.
‘Off you go,’ said Big Mo.
‘Wait,’ said Steve, ‘can I come back?’
‘That depends,’ said Big Mo. ‘We’ll have a few reports to write. We’ll need to account for the lost gear. But if something comes up, you’ll be the first to know.’
Mo cast his eye over the town. The first hints of blue dawn were seeping into the black night sky. Mo shoved Steve in the back and he tumbled out onto the roof. The tiles rattled as he scrabbled for his balance.
‘Laters,’ said Mo, as the doorway to the Library fell backwards and disappeared in the night sky.
‘Wait,’ cried Steve, ‘what happened to the girl and One Punch? What about Slasher?’
‘They’re doing fine,’ called Mo, as he adjusted his pork-pie hat. ‘They still dream about you.’
Postscript
When Steve came down to breakfast on 30th July he felt different.
‘Hi, Mum,’ he said as he filled Groucho’s dish.
He sat down at the kitchen table. He sprinkled some cereal into his bowl.
‘Is everything all right?’ asked Mum.
‘Fine,’ said Steve, as he began to eat his breakfast.
‘No dangers? No missile attacks? No sun spots? No alien invasions?’
‘Nope,’ said Steve.
‘No epidemics, no tidal waves, no mutant rodents crawling through the sewers?’
‘Negative,’ said Steve. He’d almost finished his cereal. He could see Kyled happily bouncing up and down on his trampoline through the window.
‘No molten lava pouring up through a fissure in the earth’s crust just in the middle of Pendown?’ asked his mum.
Steve finished his cereal and went to the back door. He pulled his trainers on.
‘I’m just going out the back,’ said Steve. ‘Maybe I’ll see if Toby’s around. There’s something I want to tell him.’
‘One thing,’ said Mum, as Steve pushed the back door open. ‘I know yesterday was a bit … traumatic, but you really do need to go to the dentist.’
‘Book me in for this afternoon, and please say sorry to Mrs Etherington, it won’t happen again,’ said Steve, with a confident tone in his voice.
‘I’ll be back for lunch at about thirteen hundred hours,’ he
added.
As Steve picked up his football and began to stride off down the garden Mum came to the back door. She’d noticed something strange. Steve seemed normal … almost too normal. A look of concern flashed across her face.
‘Steve,’ she shouted. ‘Is everything alright? You don’t think you’re dead again do you?’
‘No way,’ yelled Steve, then he pointed at the sky. ‘I was being ridiculous. It was a terrible mistake.’
Mum nodded slowly. There was something wrong with Steve.
‘There’s an invisible library up there. I could be called away on another mission at any moment. I’ve got to explain to Toby what to do if I get stuck up there.’
Steve pointed at the sky above the roof. Mum stepped out and looked up. There was nothing there – just sky. She sighed with relief. Steve was back to normal.
First published in 2014
by Firefly Press
25 Gabalfa Road, Llandaff North, Cardiff CF14 2JJ
www.fireflypress.co.uk
Text © Dan Anthony 2014
Illustrations © Huw Aaron 2014
The author and illustrator assert their moral right to be identified as author and illustrator in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patent Act, 1988.
All rights reserved.
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form, binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
A CIP catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library.
Print ISBN: 978-1-910080-06-1
Epub ISBN: 978-1-910080-07-8
This book has been published with the support of the