’Til that lout reeled out the door.’
Everyone who could clapped. Everyone who couldn’t glared at Gav for having legs.
‘Amazing!’ said Coriander. ‘But how did you escape, Gav? You were turned off in my rucksack.’
‘Which Klench took when we were captured,’ said Perdita. ‘Did he switch you on?’
Gav’s eye winked on the screen. ‘Not on purpose, no sirree. Only accidentally.’
‘How?’ said Abbie.
Gav demonstrated with a new dance:
‘Kick that rucksack, switch me on,
Slam that door – and bye, I’m gone.’
Abbie grinned. ‘Wow. So you ran out of the hotel. But how did you find Brillo?’
Gav rolled his screen eyes.
‘I’m a Sat Nav, I could find
a wart upon a whale’s behind.’
Abbie shook her head in wonder. ‘So you knew where to find us, too. Amazing.’
‘Not so amazin’ when Klench comes back and finds us ’avin’ a coffee mornin’,’ said Grandma. ‘Come on, let’s skedaddle.’
Easier said than done, thought Abbie. The tunnel was about half a metre across – impressive, when you considered that Brillo had dug it single-clawedly. But was it impressive enough? She looked doubtfully at the two biggest bottoms in the room.
As if reading her thoughts, Coriander said, ‘I’ll go last. Then I can push you through, Grandma.’
And who’ll push you through? thought Abbie. But she said nothing. It was wonderful to see Coriander back to her brave old self. Besides, what choice did they have? So into the tunnel jumped:
Brillo to lead the way, then
Gav, to sing them out through the darkness, then
Perdita holding Carmen, then
Abbie holding Fernando, then
Grandma who heaved and huffed and
Coriander who pushed and puffed.
‘You OK, Mum?’ shouted Perdita from the front.
‘Ye-he-hess.’
‘You OK, Grandma?’ called Abbie.
‘Ye-he … no. I’m stuck. Can’t move.’
‘You must,’ gasped Coriander. ‘You can. You have to.’
‘Yoo hoo!’
They froze.
‘Out – now!’ squeaked the voice. ‘Or bullets vill up bumsies.’
‘Mum!’ screamed Perdita. ‘Back out!’
Everyone shuffled backwards. Well, not quite everyone. Brillo and Gav had scuttled on through the tunnel.
Free again, thought Abbie. Lucky jammers.
Behind her Klench was giving instructions. ‘Callink all doctors. Down to cellar schip-schnap.’
Everyone backed out of the tunnel and sat on the floor. Klench stood in the doorway. He held his gun in one hand and a walkie-talkie in the other. ‘And brink equipments. Over and out.’ He waggled the gun wearily at the prisoners. ‘You leave me no choice.’
Something had changed. Abbie could see he was putting on a brave bad face, but the quiver in his voice and the tremble in his chins spoke of a new insecurity. ‘Since you insist on escapinks, I vill proceed viz op right now.’
Three figures appeared in the doorway. They wore white lab coats.
Terror flooded Abbie’s chest. This is it. We’re fruit flies.
The doctors came in. The first, a man with banana-pale hair, carried an electric drill. Then came a woman with a pot in her gloved hands. The third doctor had dark hair and a scalpel in his breast pocket.
Klench pointed at Abbie. ‘Start viz Miss Meddle.’ Screaming, she clutched her head and backed against the wall.
The woman doctor stepped forward. ‘First we’ll Superdooperglooper Glue your hands together. Don’t want them interfering with the skull opening, do we, Dr Banoffee?’
‘Ooh no, Dr Ecclescake.’ The pale-haired man wiggled the drill playfully.
‘Don’t you dare!’ Perdita jumped up and blocked the woman’s path. Coriander tried to grab the drill. Grandma stamped on the dark-haired doctor’s foot.
Klench fired the gun. The bullet hit the wall a centimetre from Abbie’s ear.
‘Stop!’ she yelled. ‘I’d rather be dim than dead!’
Dr Ecclescake turned to the dark-haired man. ‘Would you do the honours, Dr Squidgychocolatelog?’
‘With pleasure, Dr E.’ He grabbed Abbie’s hands. He held them out, palms up.
Dr Ecclescake shoved Perdita aside. Coming towards Abbie, she flipped back the pot lid.
She took a paintbrush from her pocket.
She plunged it into the pot.
She removed it.
She brought it forward and …
Shrieked! Something leapt at her chest. The pot and brush flew from her hands. Glue splashed onto her nose. ‘Aaagh!’ Panicking, she ran for the door. She banged into it. Her nose stuck fast.
‘Brillo!’ cried Perdita. ‘You’re back!’
‘Vot ze Schnik?’ squealed Klench as another armadillo jumped up and whacked him in the chest. The walkie-talkie fell from one hand and smashed on the floor. The gun dropped from the other. Abbie snatched it up.
A third armadillo leapt out of the tunnel. And a fourth. They flew at the other two doctors. Abbie gasped as more armadillos appeared. They must have been behind Brillo in the tunnel, helping to dig – and he’d run back to get them! Ten, eleven, twelve … they knocked the doctors down and piled on top of them, scratching and clawing.
Gav the Nav scuttled out of the tunnel. ‘Turn around upon the floor,’ he sang. ‘Stop that villain at the door!’
Abbie wheeled round to see Klench trying to shut them in. But Dr Ecclescake was wedged in the doorway, her nose firmly glued. Klench gave up and scampered off up the stairs.
Gav ran about, cheering on the armadillos. ‘Gouge their faces, claw their heads. Tear those wicked docs … to … shreds.’ His voice trailed off. His screen went dead. All the leaping and dancing had run his battery down.
Coriander scooped him up. ‘We need to get out of here,’ she cried, ‘before Klench comes back with the other guests. They’re armed and sure to help him.’ She turned to the armadillos. ‘Run, my darlings.’
‘No!’ yelled Grandma. ‘We need ’em ’ere to keep the docs down.’
‘No!’ Coriander yelled back. ‘Klench’ll put them in cages and smuggle them to China.’ They glared at each other.
Now what? thought Abbie. They’re both right. She looked frantically round the room. Of course!
Handing Grandma the gun, she ran over to the glue-pot that Dr Ecclescake had dropped. Coriander hummed a run-for-your-lives sort of tune. And, as Grandma trained the gun on the doctors, the armadillos slipped off and dived back into the tunnel.
Abbie and Perdita dragged the bleeding, dazed men to the door. ‘I hope you’re right-handed,’ she said, lifting Doctor Banoffee’s limp left arm.
‘Mwaaah,’ he moaned into the floor. She painted his fingertips with glue. Perdita did the same to Doctor Squidgychocolatelog.
‘What are you doing?’ Doctor Ecclescake whimpered down her stuck nose from the top of the door.
‘Keeping you three out of the way.’ Abbie nudged the doctor’s legs aside. She glanced nervously at Perdita. Together, the girls stuck the glued fingertips to the bottom of the door. The two doctors groaned, their heads lolling forward.
‘Let’s go.’ Abbie took the gun from Grandma and led the way upstairs. Perdita picked up Carmen and followed. Then came Grandma with Fernando and Coriander with Gav the flat Sat Nav.
At the top Abbie looked across the deserted lobby. The entrance door was open. ‘Make a run for it,’ she whispered.
A hand grasped her shoulder. ‘Chester.’ Grandma’s face was thunder.
Abbie gulped. ‘Of c-course.’ How could she have forgotten him – especially after launching him into danger before? She glanced round the lobby. He could be behind any of those doors – or upstairs – locked inside that box. She took a deep breath. ‘We’ll search the ground floor first. Keep together. I’m the only one
with a gun.’
What did I just say? She looked at her hand, clamped round the mint-green handle. Was she actually in the Amazon jungle, holding a gun, defending six human(ish) beings and a flat Sat Nav from a hotel full of hoodlums? Yikes. She almost dropped the gun. Get a grip. Think cool. Think calm. Think headline.
GUTSY GIRL CRUSHES CRIMINAL CARRY-ON.
It sounded good. She tiptoed across the lobby towards the glass doors of the lounge.
* * *
All of which left time for Klench to whip round upstairs.
‘You need help from guests and guns,’ barked Mummy, ‘to stop zat lot before zey runs.’
‘I know,’ he snapped. ‘I vosn’t born last Vensday.’
‘Don’t be cheeky, Chubby Cheeks.’
He blew an inner raspberry. How would he ever be rid of her? Blinking back furious tears, he barged into the first bedroom on the landing.
‘Who’s there?’ came a weak voice. The gangster was lying on his bed with the brick still on his head. He turned his squashed face towards the door.
‘I need your gun,’ squeaked Klench. ‘Ve are invaded by law-abidink persons viz snouty friends.’
‘Can’t find it,’ groaned the man. ‘Can’t find anything. My eyes have closed up. Oh, the agony.’
Klench slammed the door and ran along the corridor. In the next room he found the bank-robbing couple moaning in armchairs. The woman was clutching the box on her nose and the man was clasping his cling-filmed ears. Their daughter sat on a bed jabbing a DS. She glared at Klench and picked up a book from the bedside table.
‘I need your mumsie and dadsie’s gunsies,’ he gasped, trying to sound like a cuddly uncle. ‘Vizzout delay … Oww.’ The book slammed into his shoulder.
‘That’s for trapping animals!’ yelled the girl. She reached for the table again and grabbed a vase of flowers.
Klench shut the door as the vase sailed towards him. He ran down the corridor and hammered on the next door. The Pearl Pincher raised her head from her desk.
‘Give me your gun!’ ordered Klench. ‘Ve have enemy in our middles.’
Still blinded by bandages, the Pincher groaned. ‘No idea where it is.’ Cursing, Klench rushed out and banged on the next door.
‘Yeah?’
‘Mr Brag,’ gasped Klench, ‘if you do not help, ve face much arrestinks.’
Brag rose slowly from his chair. A thousand wasps were stinging his fingertips. ‘Take mah gun,’ he drawled wearily, nodding towards a drawer. ‘Ah can’t use it. But ah’ll do what ah can. No one’s gonna nab Brag Swaggenham.’ He followed Klench out with more of a stagger than a swagger.
* * *
Marcus rolled over in bed. His heart was hammering. His breathing was quick. The tiniest sound roared in his ears: the tick of the bedside clock, the distant growl of cars. He’d never get to sleep. He sat up and switched on the light.
Has it worked? Is she out there, lumbering through the night?
He got out of bed, went to the window and drew back the curtains. Where was she? What was she doing? And what on earth would happen tomorrow?
25 - Attack
‘Where can Chester be?’ whispered Coriander.
Not in the lounge. Not in the games room, the TV room, the restrooms or restaurant. And not in the kitchen. The only person there was a young man in a brown uniform. He was putting scraps of rotten fruit and peel into a bowl. When Abbie burst in with the gun, he dropped the bowl and threw up his hands.
He looked so scared that she couldn’t help saying, ‘Sorry to trouble you. I need to find Chester.’
‘Sorry?’ His dark eyes widened. ‘Never here I hear this word. Klench never say sorry. He love to trouble me. You not with him?’ It was more a plea than a question.
‘Of course not. As if! Please, just tell me where Chester is and I’ll go.’
But he shook his head when she described the patch of grey hair locked inside a box. ‘I never see this creature.’
‘Oh.’ Her face fell. ‘Thanks.’ She turned to go.
‘Wait.’ He blinked nervously. ‘Please – you have gun. You come help me.’ He pointed to a door at the back of the kitchen.’
‘I can’t. I have to find Chester before Klench finds us. I’m sorry.’
She backed out of the door, leaving him shaking his head in wonder and murmuring, ‘Sorry? She say sorry?’
Out in the lobby Perdita was trying one last door. It was locked.
‘Oh no,’ breathed Abbie. They’d have to look upstairs – and risk running into Klench and the guests.
Heart pounding, head throbbing, she led them all across the lobby and climbed the first step. Her sandal sank into mint-green carpet, soft as moss. The heat, the dread, the roar in her head – she knew how an egg must feel entering boiling water.
Up the next step … and the next. She gripped the banister. Her sweaty palm cooled on the golden rail that curved up, then round to the right, in a great showy arc.
Around the bend she froze. Klench was at the top of the stairs, brandishing a gun. Beside him stood a tall thin man in a cowboy hat. It wasn’t the moment to drop her gun in terror.
She dropped her gun in terror.
Quick as a cat, Klench darted downstairs and whisked it up. ‘Dearie me,’ he squeaked. ‘Vot butterfinkers. But so kind to return my gun.’ He threw it to the cowboy, who caught it in his diamond-studded teeth. His bandaged hands hung limply at his sides.
‘Back down to lobby, you lots,’ barked Klench.
No! Abbie turned and stumbled after the others, Klench following closely behind. She’d messed up again, for the bazillionth time on this trip. Tears of rage and shame blurred her vision as she lurched down the stairs.
The stairs? Since when did stairs move? She blinked through her tears. Since when did they chatter and squeal and … ‘Aaagh!’ … trip her up? She wheeled round.
A black monkey with impossibly long limbs shot up the stairs and snatched the gun from a startled Klench. It leapt onto the banister then reached up and grasped the chandelier above his head. Hauling itself up, it hooked its tail round the frame and hung upside down. Klench shrieked and tried to grab the gun from its hand.
‘Spider monkey!’ gasped Coriander. She began to hum: a sharp, high tune of attack. The monkey smacked Klench in the face.
Another monkey streaked past Klench and up to the landing. It wrapped its skinny arms round the cowboy’s knees. ‘Aark!’ he yelled as his legs were yanked forward. He fell onto his back. The gun flew from his mouth. The hat sailed off his head. The monkey jumped on his stomach.
The dangling monkey dropped the gun it was holding.
‘Ha!’ Klench bent down and scooped it off the carpet.
‘Watch out!’ yelled Perdita. But she didn’t mean the gun. Abbie felt a rush of air as dark wings beat above her. A massive grey bird landed on Klench’s head, clasping his ears with brutal talons. He screamed and danced on the stair, trying to shake the bird off.
‘Harpy eagle!’ cried Coriander. ‘The more he wriggles, the more it’ll think he’s dinner.’
The monkey, seeing its chance, dropped from the chandelier. It snatched the gun again from the bird-bound Klench and threw it upwards. The weapon lodged with a tinkle amid the glass baubles of the light. The monkey turned and ran up to the landing, joining its companion on top of the cowboy. They held him down, whooping and beating his chest with their leathery fists.
Abbie yelped. Two furry brown creatures, like long-legged guinea pigs, scooted past her. They caught Klench’s trouser legs in their teeth. He kicked them off. They came back for more and Klench ran for the landing.
‘Go agoutis!’ cried Coriander. She brandished Gav in the air.
The cowboy wriggled out from under the monkeys. He hitched the gun that had flown from his mouth between his wrists. Rolling onto his side, he manoeuvred the handle to his mouth and clamped it between his teeth. No matter how the monkeys pummelled his back and shoulders, they couldn’t dislodge the weapon
.
Until he screamed. The gun fell out as a huge hairy spider crawled onto his face. One of the monkeys whipped up the weapon from the carpet and threw it down the stairs. Abbie caught it.
‘Where the blinkers are they comin’ from?’ yelled Grandma as more tarantulas scuttled onto the cowboy.
Gun in hand, Abbie ran downstairs. Rounding the bend, she stopped and stared.
The servant from the kitchen stood on the far side of the lobby. He was holding open the door to the kitchen. He waved at Abbie as animals and birds streamed through. Some were heading out of the hotel entrance into the jungle. Some were scurrying round the lobby. And others were making for the stairs. At the front flew a green parrot with a red face. Then came a snouty creature that Abbie recognised as an anteater and a grey, pig-like creature that she didn’t. At the back scampered two spotty cats that could only be jaguar cubs. And at the front and back, stretching right across the lobby, was an … an …
‘An … aconda,’ she breathed.
From thin head to pointy tail it must have been longer than Perdita, Coriander and Grandma put together. It was already flowing up the stairs in a silent, green, gravity-flouting river. Abbie backed against the banister and edged upstairs crabwise, level with its head. Around the bend the others too pressed back, speechless, to let it pass.
The monster reached the landing. It paused, flicking its tongue at the screaming crooks. Then calmly it reared and slid round Klench’s knees. Lazily it slipped beneath the cowboy’s calves. And gently, almost lovingly, it hoisted him upright. One by one the other creatures let go. They scurried or flew down the corridor that led off the landing, leaving the snake to squeeze the villains in its cold embrace.
‘Stop huggin’ me!’
‘Stop squoshink me!’
‘Breathe in, can’t ya?’
‘Use aftershaves, can’t you?’ And, as the snake encircled their vast combined middles … ‘He-he-help!’ they chorused.
‘Madam!’ Klench screamed, catching sight of Grandma. ‘In ze name of your loveliness, stop ziss!’
‘I can’t!’ Grandma covered her eyes. ‘Do somethin’, Coriander. We can’t let ’em die.’
Jungle Tangle Page 15