The Warrior Sheep Down Under

by Christopher Russell

  “Our fairy godtingy seems to be very fond of getting wet,” she observed before being hurled against Oxo’s bottom.

  Then the raft shot out of the lower end of the Turnpike, into the relative calm of a wide pool, before twirling twice and floating onward downriver.

  “Good effort!” yelled Shelly. She was on the bank with Deidre, waiting for Alice’s kayak. Only after she’d shouted did she realize that the raft was manned by sheep.

  “Holy-moly…Is that them again…?”

  Deidre wasn’t looking at the raft. She grabbed Shelly’s arm. “Miss Barton made it! Sort of…”

  She started snapping away with her camera as the kayak, with Alice still on-board, bounced and slithered out through the foam and ended floating upside down toward the bank. Alice thrashed about and righted herself, gasping and coughing.

  “Smile, Miss Barton,” called Deidre.

  But Alice didn’t smile. “Those…” she gargled through a throat full of river water. “Those sheep!”

  • • •

  By now the raft was speeding up again, as the river raced onward. Wills did a quick head count. Nobody had been lost overboard.

  Links was the first to speak. “Man, we is awesome,” he gasped, shaking his curls out of his eyes. “We flied like woolly birds.”

  “Er, yes,” said Wills, who was now peering back the way they had come. “But we flew a bit too fast…”

  They all looked. Their fairy godtingy was in the water far behind them. And there was nothing the warriors could do to get back to her.

  15

  Mr. Creeply Arrives

  Shelly waded into the river, caught hold of Alice’s kayak, and hauled her onto the bank before the current could sweep her away again. Deidre rushed forward with a dry towel as Alice climbed out.

  “Oh, well done, Miss Barton!”

  Alice pushed the towel aside. “Don’t well done me…” She was gasping but furious. “What’s your game, Deidre?”

  “Game, Miss Barton…?” Deidre’s eyes widened.

  Alice dropped her crash helmet. “Sheep do not stow away on boats,” she panted, moving closer so that her nose was almost touching Deidre’s. “Sheep do not bungee jump. Sheep do not raft. They’re your doing. You have brought them here. You’re trying to sabotage my claim to Barton’s Billabong!”

  “Why on earth would I do that?” Deidre stepped back away from the angry, wet face of her employer. “I’m just…a secretary.”

  Alice stood for a moment glaring at Deidre and breathing deeply to calm herself. Then she stalked off to get changed, kicking the crash helmet as she passed. It rolled down the slope and plopped into the river.

  “That’ll cost her a few dollars extra,” said Shelly, watching it float away. She patted Deidre’s shoulder. “She’s all keyed up with the kayaking. She’ll soon get over it.”

  They sat and waited in the truck. After a short silence, Shelly asked, “Looked at the photo yet, Miss Secretary?”

  There was something of a challenge about the way she said “Miss Secretary,” but Deidre pretended not to notice. She shook her head and handed over the camera. Shelly looked at the screen. Her face twitched, then creased, then she burst out laughing.

  “Remember I said this couldn’t possibly be worse than the bungee shot?” She held out the screen for Deidre to see. “I was wrong.”

  • • •

  At Barton’s Billabong, Ida and Tod were getting in a bit of cricket practice.

  “Well bowled, Gran,” called Tod, as one of her spinners knocked his stumps flying.

  “She always was handy with a ball,” called Frank. He was cleaning out one of the bird cages. The sanctuary looked after orphaned parrots as well as joeys. “Pity she’s no good with a bat.”

  “I could whack you for six any day,” said Ida. She flopped down in the shade. “Phew, it’s getting hot already.”

  “It’ll be a bit cooler in Brisbane,” said Frank.

  “For the test match? I hope so.” Ida was fanning her face vigorously with her hanky. “But I’m going to enjoy it whatever.”

  “Glass of water, Gran?” asked Tod, and he trotted off toward Frank’s little house to fetch one.

  Nat came out of his own cabin as Tod was passing. He was carrying a bag with bread and fruit in it. “Lunch on the go,” he grunted as he strode away. “Tell Frank the solicitor guy phoned. He’s arriving this morning. I’ll make sure the landing strip’s clear.”

  A short while later, a drone in the sky became a roar, and a speck in the distance became a helicopter. It hovered overhead briefly then slowly descended. The rotor blades sliced the air and the draught swirled up fallen leaves and dust. The helicopter landed with a gentle bump just beyond the perimeter fence, and a short, thin man with a bald head and very pale skin climbed out, clutching a large briefcase. He ducked low and crept from under the whirring blades. Once the helicopter had lifted off and flown away again, the new arrival marched solemnly toward the sanctuary gate, where Frank was waiting.

  “G’day, Mr. Creeply. Good to see you again.”

  Mr. Creeply stalked in without a handshake. “I’m getting to grips with the will,” he said grimly. “But there is still much to be done.” He made it sound like Frank’s fault.

  Frank beckoned Ida and Tod to join him.

  “This is my sister Ida and her grandson, Tod.”

  “Oh.” Mr. Creeply looked at Tod. “I hope I won’t be disturbed. Especially by childish noise.”

  Tod flushed but was too surprised to answer.

  Mr. Creeply took a very large, old-fashioned key from his briefcase. “I shall be in the office if you need me.” And he stalked away toward the tower.

  Frank hurried after him. Tod and Ida exchanged a look and followed.

  “So how long d’you reckon you’ll be?” Frank asked, puffing slightly and wishing he were younger and his bones didn’t creak so much.

  “As long as it takes,” replied Mr. Creeply. “Possibly two weeks.”

  “Two weeks?” Frank had been expecting him to say two hours.

  “I shall stay here until the job is done,” said Mr. Creeply with a severe stare.

  “Right,” said Frank, his head reeling. “Right…”

  Mr. Creeply teetered across the rope bridge and unfastened the great brass padlock that guarded Maiden Tower. The door creaked open. Frank followed Mr. Creeply inside.

  The thick stone walls kept the sunlight out and it was gloomy and cold. In the middle of the floor space, a spiral staircase, enclosed in stone, wound up into the darkness above. A narrow wooden door guarded the entrance to the staircase. It was ajar.

  Mr. Creeply tutted and pulled it closed. “I hope nobody’s been in here?” he said accusingly to Frank. “My clear instructions were that nothing was to be tampered with until all the legal work is completed. By me alone.”

  “You must have left it open yourself,” said Frank. “Nobody but nobody’s been in here since you left after your last visit.”

  He sounded a bit flustered. And Tod, who’d crept across the rope bridge, was very curious. He remembered the evening he’d seen a light in the topmost window and felt an odd little shiver run down his spine. Was Uncle Frank telling the truth about the staircase door? Why would he lie?

  Outside the tower, Tod moved sharply back out of sight as Mr. Creeply turned. There was another door beyond the stone stairwell and the solicitor unlocked this one too and pushed it open. He walked inside, followed by Frank. Tod edged forward again.

  “Much going on?”

  Tod jumped at the voice behind him. Nat was standing at the other end of the rope bridge.

  Tod blushed. “Er, I can’t see.”

  “They’re not trying to get up the stairs, are they?” asked Nat.

  “No. Through one of the other doors.”

  “Good. Only the stairs are a nightmare. Too steep and slippery for your poor old uncle.” Nat smiled a rare smile. “Though I wouldn’t worry too much if a nit-picky solicito
r took a tumble.” He nodded at Tod before moving away. “They’ve either gone into the office or the dungeon. I’d guess the office. Don’t get your nose caught.”

  Tod peered into the tower again. Mr. Creeply and Uncle Frank were standing in the office doorway, surveying the room in front of them. It ran right around the tower’s ground floor, inside the outer wall. A complete circle, like a hollow tire on a wheel. There was just one window and that let in very little light. The ceiling was made of stout wooden beams and planks, and from it hung a single ancient light bulb. Frank clicked the switch and the bulb lit the nearest part of the office, casting dark shadows beyond.

  Mr. Creeply tutted at the enormity of the task ahead. “Did I say two weeks?” he muttered.

  The room was littered with untidy piles of paperwork. It was stacked on the floor, on the filing cabinets, on the two chairs, and on the desk.

  “There was never enough time to do this sort of stuff,” Frank said with a guilty sigh.

  Mr. Creeply carefully removed a pile of papers from a chair, fanned away the dust, and sat down at the desk. “I don’t eat much,” he said, clicking open his briefcase. “But would appreciate meals here at the desk. I shall sleep here too.”

  Frank nodded. “Right…” he said. “Right…”

  “Please close the door on your way out,” added Mr. Creeply.

  Frank hesitated, turned, and stomped out, shutting the office door firmly. Tod heard him coming and nipped back across the bridge.

  “Well, mate,” said Uncle Frank as he joined him. “Did you get a good look?”

  Tod blushed scarlet again. “Er…”

  Uncle Frank laughed. “That rope bridge is a dead giveaway. You set it swinging like a pendulum on a clock.” He ruffled Tod’s hair. “I can smell the curry your Gran’s cooking for lunch. Let’s forget solicitors and get the fire hoses out.”

  As they strode back to the house, Tod suddenly remembered a question he’d been meaning to ask for some time. “Uncle Frank…supposing Alice Barton doesn’t complete the challenges Motte and Bailey set for her? What will happen to the sanctuary and everything then?”

  Frank shrugged. “If that happens, mate, it all comes to me.”

  16

  Bubble-Bubble

  Still in their raft on the Rotapangi River, the warriors were also becoming aware of a smell. And it wasn’t curry. With their fairy godtingy left far behind, they were floating helplessly on. But the river was getting wider. They could no longer see the banks on either side.

  “I think,” said Wills, “it’s become a lake. That’s sort of bigger than a pond but smaller than the ocean.”

  “Much smaller than the ocean, dear,” said Sal, who had very good eyesight. “I can see land. There, look.”

  The sheep peered ahead over the rim of the raft.

  “Is that what stinks?” asked Oxo.

  They soon found out. The raft drifted across the lake and ran aground on a small beach, where the smell hung like a haze in the air.

  “Phaw…” said Links, wrinkling his nose. “It’s like that time Tod forgot to collect the eggs and they all went rotten, right?”

  “And what’s that funny noise?” asked Oxo suddenly. He scanned the beach, ready for action.

  They all clambered from the raft and stood listening.

  Bubble…Bubble…Plop…Bubble…Plop…Splat…Splash…Bubble…Bubble…

  “Ohmygrassohymgrass…” whispered Jaycey. “What is that?”

  “Better check it out,” said Oxo. He boldly led the way toward a narrow path on the far side of the beach.

  The warriors walked in single file along the path, which wound through the strangest landscape they’d ever seen. The ground was completely flat and vividly colorful, as if great pots of paint had been knocked over and the paints had mixed together. Yellows ran into greens, which ran into reds and into blacks. A white salty film covered some areas, turning the reds pink. Nothing grew, not a single blade of grass. But weirdest of all were the bubbling pools of gray mud that were making the noise.

  “Stick to the path,” said Wills. “Those pools look really hot.”

  “But we are going the right way, dear,” Sal called excitedly from the back of the line. “Remember:

  “Through foaming waters, Outback dire,

  Through thirst and famine, mud and mire…”

  “They forgot to mention the mud was boiling, man,” said Links.

  “And stinking,” added Oxo.

  “Keep going and stick to the path,” said Wills.

  • • •

  Shelly told Alice about the amazing mud pools of Wanageeki and Alice listened carefully. She was in dry clothes now, sitting in Trevor at Tickler’s Turnpike. She was still deeply suspicious about the sheep but had decided it was ridiculous to blame Deidre. Nevertheless, she was bruised and aching all over, which was why Shelly was telling her about the mud pools. They were apparently “top banana” in the soothing and pampering stakes, and Alice longed for a bit of pampering.

  “So have you got time to give it a go, d’you reckon?” asked Shelly.

  As if on cue, the laptop on Deidre’s knees pinged as an email came in. Deidre looked at it.

  “From Mr. Creeply,” she said. “He’s accepted the Turnpike photo.”

  “So very generous,” snorted Alice.

  “And he’s giving details of the next challenge…” Deidre read silently, then, “Oh.”

  “Shark wrestling?” asked Alice.

  “No—not at all…Might even be nice. You’ve got to get to Australia first,” Deidre said. “To Brisbane.”

  “What for?”

  Deidre swiveled the laptop screen toward Alice. “Details by Thursday. That’s when you have to be at the Gabba.”

  “The what?” asked Alice sharply.

  “The Gabba?” said Shelly. “That’s the Brisbane Cricket Ground. And Thursday’s the first day of the test match.”

  17

  Merino Geyser

  Shelly gave Alice a geography lesson as she drove the few miles from Tickler’s Turnpike. “Wanageeki’s one of the few places in the world where the Earth’s crust is so thin that hot water or mud can bubble straight out of cracks in the ground,” she told her proudly. “It’s a natural phenomenon.”

  Alice wasn’t interested. She just wanted to get there.

  “There are hundreds of baths,” Shelly went on. “They’re built over the bubbling cracks. Some as big as swimming pools, some as small as bath tubs. Some crystal clear, others milky yellow. And some of the best aren’t water at all. They’re the ones full of the hot, plopping mud.”

  Alice yawned. “So where do I get my ticket?”

  Shelly parked by the Wanageeki Pools Complex. “Right here,” she said.

  • • •

  On the other side of the little town, the Warrior Sheep had finally picked their way past the bubbling mud pools closest to the lake. The ground had gradually got softer under their hooves and changed from bright red, yellow, and black to green all over.

  “Grass!” cried Oxo. “Just when I thought I’d never see it again.”

  They all grazed hungrily for a while.

  “Tastes of rotten eggs, right,” mumbled Links.

  “I mom’t mare,” replied Oxo. “Mi’m marving…”

  “Ohmygrass…It won’t make my breath smell, will it?” asked Jaycey, looking up in alarm. “I mean, you never know who you’re going to meet, do you?”

  “It’ll only be the fairy godtingy,” muttered Oxo quietly, so that Sal couldn’t hear. “You wait. Half a stomach full and she’ll pop up.”

  But she didn’t. And when even Oxo had eaten enough, the sheep wandered on. Every now and then they passed a circle of stony ground on which no grass grew. Some of the circles were surrounded by a low fence.

  “Merino Geyser…” Wills read out the words on a sign.

  “Merry what, dear?” asked Sal.

  “Not merry. Merino.” Wills frowned. “I think a Merino’s a
sort of sheep.”

  “Dunno,” said Oxo. “But a geyser’s a guy. Everyone knows that.”

  “Ooh…So is it pointing the way to some boy sheep?” asked Jaycey. Without waiting for an answer, she trotted off in the direction the sign was pointing. “This needs checking out…” She tossed her head to fluff up her curls. “I bet Down Under guys are much better looking than you two.”

  “No chance,” called Oxo.

  “Nah, we’s the handsomest global, man,” said Links.

  Jaycey wasn’t listening. She slipped under the fence around the circle of rough ground and pirouetted daintily in the center. “And I’m so the prettiest.”

  “Jaycey…!” Wills’s cry of alarm came too late.

  The earth beneath Jaycey’s hooves was beginning to bubble. She looked down in astonishment. The bubbles got bigger and bigger and suddenly they weren’t bubbles anymore. They were a jet of water, a jet of water that was getting wider and stronger and hotter and…Whoosh!

  The geyser burst from the ground right underneath Jaycey. She shot straight up in the air on top of the column of steaming water and stayed there, her legs paddling helplessly, her cries of shock and fear drowned in the almighty roar.

  “Ohmygrassohmygrassohmygrassohmybottom…!”

  “So that’s what a geyser is,” murmured Wills, staring in awe.

  Three long minutes later, the pressure pushing the geyser out of the ground died away, and the jet of water got smaller and smaller. Jaycey was slowly lowered until she was once more standing in a pool of bubbles. Then they too drained away.

  “Ohmygrass…ohymgrass…” she whimpered. Then she added more loudly, “Ohmyfairygodtingy…!”

  She stumbled back to join the other astonished sheep, dripping wet and shaking violently.

  “There, there, dear…” said Sal, as they huddled round to comfort her.

  Oxo couldn’t resist it. “See any handsome guys from up there?” he asked.

  “N…n…n…no…” Jaycey’s teeth were chattering with shock. “B…b…b…but I did see her. Our fairy godtingy!”