Meerkat Madness Flying High

by Ian Whybrow

  “A male meerkat,” whispered Skeema. “A huge one! He’s got a burrow over there and he’s spraying scent-marks all round the entrance. Strong ones. A lot of them.”

  “He must be a king,” Little Dream said, trying to explain to Trouble. “It’s a warning. It means Keep away, strangers! Or else!”

  “Keep away!” repeated Trouble, who had heard that one before.

  “We could keep away,” pondered Skeema. “But if we do, he might send out his big army to attack us anyway. I think we should go to that king and introduce ourselves and ask for protection. Maybe he’ll take us in.”

  “Yes, and maybe his army will beat us up!” snorted Mimi.

  Skeema could see that the others weren’t convinced. “All we have to do is explain that we haven’t got a burrow of our own,” he pleaded. “And we’ll say that we don’t have a mama or a papa to look after us.”

  He knew it sounded feeble. Worse than that, it set Trouble off. “Mama! Papa!” he wailed, bursting into tears.

  A sudden yap-yip-yap-yip silenced them all as terror swept over the kits. They had good reason to be scared. That ghostly, high-pitched gabble and the scuffle of galloping feet in the sand were close! They were sounds they all dreaded. There it was again. Yap-yip! It was the hunting-call of The Painted Ones.

  “Wild dogs!” whispered Little Dream with a shudder. More cunning even than jackals or hyenas, wild dogs are cleverer hunters and stronger fighters. Sometimes known as painted dogs because of their bright colours, a pack of them spreads terror wherever they go. There is no fiercer nor more dangerous an enemy in the Upworld.

  Chapter 16

  Little Dream’s shuddering outburst made Mimi and Skeema shake and shiver too. Though they tried to look calm for the sake of the baby and to say nothing, they each had the same thought: Like the ones that killed Mama.

  Wishing that Uncle Fearless was there to give them all courage, Skeema made a big effort to get his worried mind to work properly. He gripped Snap-snap tight and tried to stand as tall as he could. A safe place. Where? Not here!

  “Shake yourselves up, Really Mads!” he cried, hoping that he sounded confident. At once there was a rattle and snap, like flags streaming out in the wind, as everybody put some sparks into their fur and made themselves big.

  “Those brutes are hungry. We’ll have to make a dash for the hollow under the weaver-bird tree.”

  “But you said there might be a rock-monitor down there!” yelled Mimi. “Those things are worse than crocodiles!”

  “That’s a risk we’ll have to take,” urged Skeema. “Because sure as scratch-yourself there are definitely wild dogs on the rampage. And they’re coming this way. Let’s go!”

  Mimi grabbed Trouble in her jaws, having lost her baby-carrier in the explosion, and raced after the others to the hole that Skeema hoped would save them.

  He had just started to plunge into it, when there was a roar from the darkness.

  “Halt!” ordered the rumbling voice.

  “Ahh! It’s the rock-monitor!” screamed Mimi.

  “Wait! Listen!” said Skeema. The voice came again, not at all hissy and hungry, but strong and brave. “Who goes there?” it demanded.

  “PAPA!” shrilled Trouble’s excited voice from just behind Skeema.

  “Uncle!” cried the older kits. “But how…?”

  “By all that’s weird and wonderful!” exclaimed Uncle with delight. “There! I told you they’d make it, my fluff! But goodness, you did give us a shock when we saw that nest explode!”

  “My little lost loves!” came Radiant’s voice, equally thrilled to see them all again.

  “Trouble! Trouble! It’s Trouble!” squealed Bundle, Zora and Quickpaws in delight.

  And what a moment it was. What a squeaking, squealing SQUEEZE there was in that dark, tight place. What relief! What tears of joy!

  “Oh, my goodness!” cried Radiant when she saw little Trouble for the first time.

  “What have you got all over your face? You looked quite scary for a moment, my little baby!”

  Uncle chuckled. “That’s my boy! A true warrior! Now, steady on, the RMs!” Uncle barked.

  “How in the Upworld did you get here?” exclaimed Mimi.

  “Well now, that’s quite a story, by all that zigs and zags, but it will have to wait till later,” said Uncle urgently. “The main thing is that right now, we’ve taken shelter in this hollow in order to get away from a starving pack of The Painted Ones! I imagine that’s exactly what you’re doing too. A marvellous piece of luck for us all, what-what! But listen. We may all have escaped those hellhounds for a short while, but we must save our joy and our delight for later. This place is not safe.” The cuddling and the nuzzling stopped at once. “Radiant and I realised that when we darted in here. And mark my words – if those painted pouncers don’t find something to eat soon, they’ll smell us and dig us out like termites!”

  “Spot on, as usual, my lovie!” exclaimed Radiant. “There’s no back door to this hole. We’re no safer here than ants in an aardvark’s pantry.”

  Fearless had never spoken more urgently. “Think now, kits. Did you have a chance to do a bit of scouting? Is there anywhere near here we could make a run for?”

  Mimi piped up in the dark. “The only other shelter round here is a meerkat burrow. I found it earlier over a rise not far away. The only thing is, it’s occupied by strangers.”

  “What do you mean you found it?” cried Skeema indignantly.

  “Never mind who found it,” said Radiant. “Tell us – are the occupants friendly, do you happen to know?”

  “Army!” squeaked Trouble. He remembered the bit about the army.

  “I see,” said Uncle. “A big army, I suppose?”

  “Actually, we only saw the king,” said Little Dream. “But he’s very big and strong.”

  “Then I think we should throw ourselves on his mercy, for the sake of the kits and the babies,” said Radiant, making up her mind.

  Uncle wasn’t so sure. “I take your point, my beauty. But do we really want to go bowing and scraping to strangers? I’m a king, let me remind you!”

  “And I’m your queen,” said Radiant. “But what other choice have we got? We must think of the little ones.”

  She was right and Uncle knew it. “You’re quite right, my sweetness!” he cried. “We must make a dash for the strangers’ burrow for the sake of the squirmers.”

  He was squeezing past them all as he spoke and in a second his keen nose was thrust out into the bright and dangerous desert air. The hot stink of wild dog hung there still, but fainter than before. Fearless turned to speak quietly to Skeema. “Is there any cover at all between here and the burrow entrance? I wouldn’t put it past those dogs to be lying in wait.”

  “Thorn bushes,” answered Skeema. “About halfway between here and there.”

  “That’s something, I suppose,” said Fearless. “Up you come then, everyone. Now keep together, RMs! Wup! Wup! Wup! Charge for the bushes!”

  And away they went like furry fizz-fire.

  Chapter 17

  A wild dog can run at forty miles an hour for a short while, and it can keep running at thirty miles an hour for a lot longer. He also knows when to lie still and wait. That is just what the hungry pack of The Painted Ones were doing. They had spread out and were waiting patiently to ambush anything that moved past. As soon as they saw the meerkats make a dash for it, they were on their trail like lightning.

  “In here! This way!” called Skeema, and the Really Mads dived for cover into the prickly heart of the thickest bush. Bundle, Zora and Quickfire had done their own running, but Mimi had got used to minding Trouble and had carried him in her mouth.

  A high-pitched yap-yip silenced them. It was close. Very close! A wild dog was sniffing around the edge of the bush, looking for a painless way in.

  Trouble didn’t like the smell of the wild dogs. Before anyone could stop him, he wriggled out from the safety of the bush. He popped out r
ight in front of the Painted One who was scratching away at the thick outer twigs and branches of the bush.

  “YAP-YIP!” yelled Trouble.

  The dog was so shocked that he pronked like a springbok. When he hit the ground again, he found himself face to face with a tiny painted terror! In the Kalahari, anything brightly painted is likely to be deadly. Up went the dog’s crazy round ears. “Arrrgggh!” He let out a scream and backed off, whining.

  At that moment, another dog turned up. “What are you doing, you mug!” he growled. “You scared of a little squirt like that? Get ’im!”

  Squirt was exactly the right word. Trouble stood his ground. Still holding his squirty bottles, one in each hand, he pressed down on both buttons at once.

  FSSSSS! FSSSSS!

  “Ayeeeeeee!” howled the dogs and rushed off with their tails between their legs.

  “Good shooting, my boy!” cried Uncle, grabbing hold of Trouble and hauling him back to safety. “Right in their eyes like an oogpister beetle! You’re as tricky as your cousin Skeema!”

  But there was not much time to celebrate. More painted dogs arrived, angrier and hungrier than ever, all sniffing around the bush, looking for a way in.

  “I’ve got an idea! It may not work,” said Skeema grimly, tugging at the shiny pebble on the chain round his neck. “But it’s our only chance. Let’s see if I can scare them off with the Big-Eye trick.”

  “Go for it, Skeema!” cried Mimi.

  The sun, now lower in the sky, was behind Skeema as he sneaked out from the bush. As he turned, the sun seemed to catch on the stone round his neck, shooting out a little shining point of light. It landed on a tall tuft of dry weed. He could hear the dogs all around, scratching with their greedy paws.

  Skeema thought at first that the light might be some sort of bright beetle or butterfly with sparkling wings. But then he noticed that when he moved the shiny stone, the bright light moved too. And when he held it still for a moment, a little twist of smoke rose from the grass.

  Suddenly, the breeze picked up. At once it carried Skeema’s smell to the eager nostrils of the wild dogs. They let out whistling cries of triumph and delight.

  “Wassat?”

  “Get ’im!”

  “Tear him to pieces!”

  But the same breeze puffed the smoke in the dry grass into a little flame. “Fire!” Skeema whispered to himself in delight.

  “Everyone! Get behind me! NOW!” he shouted, and the Really Mads obeyed, watching the scene unfold in wonder.

  First there was a crackle. Then a rush of fire. “Ayeeeeeee!” And then the whole tuft went up in flames. A nearby tuft caught alight then – and then another. Away went the dogs, howling and yelping. In a flash, they were heading towards the setting sun.

  “Bye bye, doggies!” said Trouble and his words were picked up by the other babies.

  “Bye-bye! Bye-bye!” chanted Zora, Bundle and Quickpaws.

  Uncle looked around proudly at the Really Mads, standing strong together again. It brought a tear to his eye. “Mustn’t let meself down by blubbing, now!” he murmured. He watched with the others as the pack of dogs disappeared into the distance, the fur scorched off their retreating backsides.

  Wild dogs are famously fast runners, as we know. But as Skeema put it with a chuckle, “When there’s a fire behind them, I bet they can go faster than cheetahs!”

  As luck would have it, the flames didn’t spread and they died down almost as quickly as they had sprung up. Then the babies got over-excited and rolled in the ashes, covering themselves in black.

  “You silly, silly things!” said Radiant and Uncle cheerfully, happy to get busy by licking the little blighters clean.

  “That was very silly, Skeema,” Mimi scolded. “Fire can jump and spread!”

  “You’re right,” said Skeema. Something in him was delighted. After all, his wish to be able to make fire had come true. But the heat of the flames had singed his eyebrows and taught him a hard lesson. He ran the back of a wet paw over the sore places to sooth them. “Don’t worry. I shan’t do it again,” he promised, his heart pounding.

  “Good work!” came a powerful voice from the top of the dune. “I never thought we’d see the back of those thugs!”

  Chapter 18

  The powerful figure who called out to the Really Mads was none other than the meerkat male that Skeema had seen spraying his scent so furiously around the entrance to his burrow.

  “Welcome, brave meerkats. My name is Broad Shoulders of the No Name tribe. Perhaps you would be so kind as to introduce yourselves and tell me your business here.”

  “My name is Fearless,” said Uncle. He was polite, but wary. Meerkats are never comfortable with strangers or with the unknown. For them, it is a terrible thing to be in unfamiliar territory. “This is my queen, Radiant. These are our babies. These kits are my sister’s children.” He puffed out his proud chest. “We call ourselves the Really Mads.”

  “Are there no more of you?” asked Broad Shoulders, scanning them all carefully.

  Uncle was uneasy. He remembered the talk of an army. He decided not to answer the question and instead asked one himself. “The darktime is coming. Do you know of a safe place for us to shelter?”

  Broad Shoulders was at a loss for a moment. “Well… the dogs have gone,” he said. “They won’t risk coming back here in a hurry.”

  “It’s for the little ones,” explained Radiant.

  “Will you forgive me?” said the stranger, looking uneasy himself. “It’s my wife. My queen, you understand. I need to see how she feels. She hasn’t heard the news about the wild dogs yet. She can’t bear them, you see. As a matter of fact, she’s so terrified of them that she wouldn’t even leave the burrow to feed. So you see…” His words trailed off.

  “There’s no shame in fear,” said Radiant. “Wild dogs are as bad as The Silent Enemy. Worse, in a way, because they hunt in packs. It takes a team effort to outwit them.”

  Little Dream smiled to himself. He was still clutching the feather from the dead body of The Silent Enemy. Now was not the time, but he would give it to his Uncle later.

  “A team effort. Ah, yes. Exactly so,” said Broad Shoulders. “But the fact is, my wife was once chased by wild dogs when there was not a soul to help her. She was completely alone at the time, and—” He stopped and shook himself. “I’m sorry. I must speak to her in her chamber. Would you mind just waiting here for a moment? I shan’t keep you long.” And with that he hurried into the burrow.

  “I don’t like this, my dear,” said Radiant in a low voice. “There’s something fishy going on here. What kind of a name for a mob is the No Names? And what if he’s gone to call out his fighters? Who knows if we shall have the strength to fight an army after all that’s happened? I think we should leave while we can.”

  “Now? When it will be cold and dark soon?” asked Uncle gently. “Are you sure, my love? The babies have had enough to put up with since the floods came to Far Burrow, don’t you think?”

  “Very well,” said Radiant. And so they waited.

  “Shoulder to shoulder now,” said Uncle. “Sharp and tricky! Be prepared for anything!”

  As it turned out, though, that was a hard order to follow. For when at last the queen of the No Names came out of the dark burrow, escorted only by her husband, King Broad Shoulders, no one was prepared for such a lovely sight. Her smooth and elegant coat of fur seemed to blaze in the late-afternoon sunlight. Her gentle face and shy, smiling mouth was touched with worry and pain, yet it was perfectly shaped and delicate. Her searching gaze swept across the faces of the silent Really Mads. Then quite unexpectedly, she gasped, clutched her heart and uttered a little sobbing cry.

  Be prepared for anything! Uncle had said. But no one had been expecting this. No one except for Little Dream, who had hoped against hope. It was he who broke the silence.

  “Mama!” he whispered. “I knew we’d find you.”

  Chapter 19

  A few meters from
the No Name Burrow, next to the overheated pickup truck, Professor Clutterbuck and Miss Daniela Pipistrella were putting up a tent. They had been surprised to see patches of burned grass on the way to this spot, but guessed that sparks must have somehow carried from the burning tree where the balloon had crashed. They had spent quite a bit of time wandering about by that tree, looking for anything that might have fallen from the balloon.

  They didn’t say much as they pegged the tent down tight, but they were quietly content, and they hummed a tune together as they worked. Every now and then, they would stop, look at each other, shake their heads, shrug their shoulders – and laugh.

  This may seem strange, given that they had seen Daniela’s cloud-hopper – that they had needed to film the next episode of Kalahari Capers – blown to smithereens. But as it happened, all was not lost. For, having searched around the crash-site, they had been surprised to find two objects, both of which brought smiles to their faces and made them feel a lot better.

  One of these objects was frilly and spotted like a leopard. You can probably guess what it was a pair of!

  The other was Daniela’s camcorder. By some miracle, it was in perfect working order! And when she started playing it back, she let out a shriek of astonishment and delight. There was wonderful footage of the rolling plains, teeming with wild game – everything you could hope to see in a film about the Kalahari: wildebeest, zebra, giraffe, antelopes, lions; you name it! As for the shots of flamingos – they were unbelievable! The viewer was actually flying along in the middle of a great flock of them, hearing their calls and the beating of their wings! And then you were looking down on The Great Salt Pan crammed with feeding birds, spread out below like a bowl full of pink rose petals. Fabulous!

  Then there was something even more unexpected. “Hey! You’re never going to believe this!” Daniela had exclaimed, as she and the professor gathered round to watch the screen. And there, to their delight, were the most charming scenes of little meerkats scampering all round the basket, looking over the side, chattering at birds flying by.