‘Why didn’t you tell us before?’ she asked her friend.
‘I don’t really know. I suppose I thought you might not like me very much if you knew.’
‘That’s silly!’ Amy exclaimed. ‘Of course we’d like you just the same!’
‘Or even more,’ Ruth said. ‘I mean, it’s pretty amazing that you got through that to become a chicken warrior! I’m not sure I would have.’
‘Thanks,’ Boo said, blushing.
‘But what happened to your mother?’ Amy felt she could ask Boo about her now that they’d cleared the air. She still couldn’t work out what being an ex-bat had got to do with Cleopatra.
‘I … It’s so hard to talk about it,’ Boo said.
‘Shall I tell them, dear?’ asked Aunt Mildred.
‘Yes, please,’ Boo said.
‘Boo’s mum and I were once show hens,’ Aunt Mildred began. ‘But our breeder lost interest and sold us to a farmer who pretended he’d take care of us. In fact, he ran a battery farm.’ She shuddered. ‘I can’t explain to you how awful that place was. There were four of us to a cage less than one metre square, and hundreds of cages all stacked one on top of the other. The humans would take our eggs the minute we laid them but somehow Boo’s mum managed to hide Boo from them. That’s how Boo came to grow up inside the barn. But then Boo’s mother stopped laying eggs. And when a chicken couldn’t lay eggs any more, the farmer got rid of it. He put it in a cage with the others who were too weak to lay. Then a van would come from the City Zoo to pick them up.’
‘The zoo?’ Amy echoed.
‘Yes, Amy,’ Boo said in a choked voice. ‘They were taken to feed Cleopatra. Apparently she wouldn’t eat eggs or dead mice like the other snakes did; she wanted fresh chicken.’
Amy and Ruth listened in horror. Silence descended on the group of chickens while they thought about Boo’s mum. ‘How did you and Aunt Mildred escape?’ Amy asked eventually.
‘The farm was closed down. We were taken to an animal welfare centre to be cared for. We were a sight, I can tell you. We’d lost all our feathers from where we’d been crowded together in the tiny cages.’
‘No feathers!’ Amy exclaimed. She could hardly believe it. Now Boo and Aunt Mildred had the most beautiful feathers she had ever seen! She supposed that was because Aunt Mildred and Boo’s mum had once been show chickens.
‘It’s true,’ said Boo. ‘I was almost completely bald.’
‘We were lucky,’ Aunt Mildred said. ‘Boo and I were adopted with a few of our friends by some kind humans who lived in the city. They brought us here. Once we got used to being free to roam again, we wanted to make up for lost time. That’s why we started to collect things and read and do crosswords and have street parties – and why Boo took up gymnastics. We wanted to make the most of our freedom. It was so precious to us after what we’d been through.’
Amy could see now why Boo spent so long preening her feathers. She could also see why her friend’s special skill was perseverance. Boo and Aunt Mildred and the other ex-bats had never given up, not ever, even when it seemed like they would never get out of the battery farm.
‘That’s why I was so upset when Professor Rooster told us about Cleopatra,’ Boo said.
‘Did Professor Rooster know all of this?’ Ruth asked.
Boo shrugged. ‘Professor Rooster knows everything,’ she said.
‘We’ll find Cleopatra, Boo,’ Ruth promised. ‘Don’t worry. We won’t let her hurt any more of your family. Or any other chickens in Cluckbridge.’
‘I was just coming to that. That’s the wonderful thing,’ Aunt Mildred said. ‘You don’t have to do the mission!’
‘What?’ Amy exclaimed. ‘Why not?’
‘Cleopatra has left Cluckbridge! Look! It’s in the humans’ evening paper. The pigeons dropped off a copy at lunchtime.’
‘Where’s Mumbai?’ Amy asked.
‘In India,’ Ruth replied.
‘That’s where Cleopatra’s from originally,’ Aunt Mildred explained. ‘She’s gone home to lay her eggs. The boat left at ten o’clock this morning.’
‘You mean she’s gone for good?’ Boo gasped.
Aunt Mildred nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘Hooray!’ The three chickens rejoiced.
Boo’s eyes shone with relief.
‘You know what that means, don’t you?’ Amy could hardly contain her excitement.
The others looked at her questioningly.
‘We can have a holiday after all!’
Down by the Cluckbridge Railway Depot, it was nearly time for the Society for Enterprising Foxes Annual Convention. Thaddeus E. Fox was practising his acceptance speech. He and Snooty Bush hadn’t actually won the prize for the most enterprising foxes yet, but Thaddeus was confident that they soon would.
Their devious plan wasn’t just enterprising, it was totally fox-tastic.
He checked his watch; it was five to midnight. The Convention started in a few minutes. It was being held in the dining car of one of the humans’ trains, which had been parked at the Depot overnight.
The dining car was already full of foxes. For those still filing in through the carriage doors it was standing room only. Music blasted from a stereo system. Snooty Bush was right, Thaddeus thought: the city was a happening place if you were a fox.
He was pleased to note that, if anything, the vixens outnumbered the dogs. Thaddeus believed in fox equality. Everyone would have an equal chance of helping them put their devious plan for killing chickens into action once he and Snooty Bush were announced the winners.
Just then a clock chimed midnight. The music went quiet.
One of the vixens jumped up onto the bar.
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ she began, ‘welcome to the Society for Enterprising Foxes. It’s great to see such a good turnout tonight. Later we will be feasting on some of those pampered pet chickens we’ve all become so fond of …’
A great cheer went up.
‘Followed by a singsong to some of our favourite foxy pop tunes …’
Another great cheer went up.
‘But first, to our tenth anniversary competition! Who will be crowned the Society of Enterprising Foxes’ Most Enterprising Fox?’
An expectant hush fell on the room.
‘This is it, old man. Paws crossed,’ Snooty Bush whispered.
‘Thank you to everyone who took part,’ the vixen said. ‘The committee received a large number of entries from which we have selected the best three. These will go forward to tonight’s final.’
A growl of anticipation rose from the excited audience.
‘The first of our finalists is Owen Fox Boxer with his devious plan to break into Harrisons supermarket stores and steal all the frozen chickens from the refrigerators.’
There was a big round of applause for Owen Fox Boxer.
‘Pathetic,’ Thaddeus sneered under his breath. ‘What happens when they all defrost at the same time? You can’t eat them all at once.’
‘The second of our finalists is Virginia Fox Diamond with her devious plan to set up Foxy’s – a fast-food joint by the river, using chicken carcasses from the humans’ restaurants.’
Virginia Fox Diamond stood up and waved at her clapping fans.
‘Not bad,’ Thaddeus remarked. He made a mental note to have a chat with Virginia Fox Diamond after the competition was over.
‘The third and, in my opinion, most inventive of our finalists are Thaddeus E. Fox and Snooty Bush with their devious plan to set up – wait for it – a battery farm here in the very heart of Cluckbridge, to supply us foxes with all the fresh chicken and eggs we can eat.’
There was a collective gasp from the assembled foxes. They stared at Thaddeus and Snooty Bush, open-mouthed.
‘What’s the matter?’ Snooty Bush whispered nervously. ‘Don’t they like it?’
‘On the contrary,’ Thaddeus replied smugly, ‘they love it. They just wish they’d thought of it first.’
A low muttering rippl
ed round the room. All the foxes were talking at once. A battery farm?! Chicken! Eggs! Chicken! Eggs! Chicken! Eggs! Fresh! Fresh! Fresh! The noise rose into a crescendo as the foxes agreed what a brilliant plan it was.
The vixen in charge of proceedings clapped her paws together for silence. ‘To judge who should be the winner of tonight’s competition I have great pleasure in introducing a very special guest. She is without doubt more devious and deadly to chickens than any fox …’
Thaddeus raised an eyebrow. Not more devious and deadly than him, surely?
‘… and therefore uniquely placed to decide which of our three fantastic finalists should be given the support of the Society to put their plan into action. Please give a big welcome to the most venomous creature in the whole-wide world, Her Majesty, Cleopatra, the queen cobra!’
Thaddeus frowned. Cleopatra, the queen cobra? Wasn’t she the one who’d escaped from the City Zoo? He’d read about it in a newspaper someone had thrown into Snooty’s dustbin.
‘She’s still here?’ Snooty Bush said, astonished. ‘I heard she left Cluckbridge this morning on a boat to India.’
There was a deathly silence in the railway carriage as the queen cobra slithered along the bar. Thaddeus watched the foxes’ reaction closely. They were nervous. Cleopatra’s surprise appearance had chilled the atmosphere by several degrees. She was obviously a villain to be reckoned with. He regarded her with interest as she raised her hood.
‘Don’t look at her!’ Snooty Bush hissed at him. ‘She’ll hypnotise you. Everyone in the city knows that.’
All the other foxes were looking at their feet.
Thaddeus lowered his eyes. He didn’t want to get hypnotised. Nor did he want to appear disrespectful to the world’s most venomous snake. But he did want to get to know Cleopatra better. Something told him the two of them were going to hit it off.
‘Sssssssome of you are sssssssurprised to sssssssee me,’ Cleopatra began. ‘You might have heard a rumour that I am currently on a boat bound for India.’
The foxes nodded their agreement, keeping their eyes low.
‘That’sssssss what you are supposssssssed to think,’ hissed Cleopatra. ‘Ssssssso are the humansssssss. I made sure that one of them caught a glimpssssssse of me on the quay.’ She put her head to one side as if inviting a question.
‘So how did you give everyone the slip, your majesty?’ the vixen asked politely.
‘I ssssssslithered over the ssssssside of the ship and ssssssswam back to shore,’ Cleopatra said. ‘I wanted to stay and find sssssssomewhere dark and quiet to have my babiessssssss.’
Cleopatra was going to lay eggs? ‘Congratulations, your majesty,’ Thaddeus cried. He could feel the snake’s eyes upon him.
‘Who daresssssss to interrupt Cleopatra when she is ssssssspeaking?’ the snake said, sharply.
‘Thaddeus E. Fox,’ he said, removing his top hat and bowing low. ‘At your service, your majesty.’
‘Ah,’ Cleopatra hissed. ‘One of our two prizewinnersssssss.’ She flicked her tongue in and out.
‘You mean we won, your majesty?’ Thaddeus E. Fox said, giving Snooty Bush a slap on the back.
‘Yesssssss.’ Cleopatra inclined her hood. ‘Your plan is ingeniousssssss. You get first prize. In fact, it is ssssssso ingeniousssssss, I should like to help you.’
‘What did you have in mind, your majesty?’ Thaddeus asked.
‘You ssssssssupply me with chicken and I will provide you with workers for your battery farm,’ she said.
Workers? This was getting better and better. Thaddeus E. Fox hated working. ‘Who did you have in mind, your majesty?’
‘The ratsssssss.’
The foxes started muttering. The rats weren’t popular in the city. They stole the foxes’ food.
‘But how will you get them to obey us?’ Thaddeus asked. Rats could be difficult. They had opinions of their own. They also came in very large numbers, which could be troublesome to control.
‘I will hypnotise them for you,’ Cleopatra said.
Hypnotise them! Thaddeus felt a growing respect for the queen cobra. If Cleopatra hypnotised the rats, he could get them to do anything he wanted. He would have his very own rat army entirely at his disposal. The chickens of Cluckbridge wouldn’t stand a chance.
‘Ssssssssssoooooo?’ said Cleopatra. ‘What do you sssssssay?’
‘We should be delighted if you would join us, your majesty,’ Thaddeus E. Fox said. ‘Welcome to the team.’
The next day after breakfast at Aunt Mildred’s, Amy stood outside the coop under the apple tree, her suitcase in one wing, feeling the wind in her feathers. She could hardly believe it. She was going home to Perrin’s Farm at last.
‘Bye, Amy! Bye! Have a good holiday!’ Boo and Ruth each gave her a huge hug.
Amy squeezed them tight. ‘Thanks, guys! Enjoy the party,’ she said.
It had been agreed by everyone that the reports of Cleopatra’s unexpected departure to India was indeed something to celebrate. As a result, Aunt Mildred and her friends were organising their first street party in ages.
The local rooster had been asked to crow the party invitation at the top of his voice at dawn tomorrow to all the chickens in the neighbourhood. Aunt Mildred and her friends were already busy sorting out food and hats and crackers. Boo was rehearsing a gymnastics display, and Ruth was organising quizzes and games for the chicks, as well as being in charge of making sure that everyone got there and back safely without the foxes interfering. Luckily Ruth’s self-packing suitcase had packed the mite blaster and several pepper pots by mistake, so if any of the foxes did try anything, she could give them a nasty dose of mites or a sneezing fit.
Amy was sorry to miss the party, but the holiday was only going to last for a few days, so she couldn’t really afford to wait. She had decided to set off for home straight away.
Only one thing slightly troubled her. She hadn’t actually told Professor Rooster she was going to see her parents instead of staying on at Aunt Mildred’s, but Amy had persuaded herself he wouldn’t mind. After all, she was only doing what she had originally planned before the Cleopatra mission started. She would tell him when they got back to Chicken HQ.
‘See you next week!’ Amy strapped on her flight-booster engine and waved goodbye to her friends. She set the satellite navigation system on her super-spec headset to ‘Perrin’s Farm’, pulled the goggles down over her eyes and soared into the sky.
Amy loved the feeling of flying. Like most chickens she could fly a bit by herself but it took a great deal of flapping and squawking before she got anywhere, and she couldn’t go very high because her wings were too short and her tummy was too fluffy and seemed to attract more in the way of gravity than it should. But with the flight-booster engine, Amy could swoop and dive, like the albatross, as long as she didn’t run out of fuel.
She glanced down. She could still see the patchwork of gardens. Ruth and Boo and the other chickens were tiny dots. She hoped they had a good time with Aunt Mildred. If anyone deserved a holiday it was Boo.
Her route took her along the river past old factories and dilapidated warehouses. Aunt Mildred had said that was where the foxes hung out. Amy could see why they would choose it: the warehouses looked dark and dingy, just the sort of place she could imagine foxes lurking. But after a while there were no more buildings. Green and brown fields edged with thick hedges stretched away into the distance. Amy had reached the countryside. In half an hour she would be home.
Perrin’s Farm looked just as she’d remembered it. There was the farmhouse, and the play barn where she used to wrestle the goose, and the chicken coops in the yard. There was the dirt patch where the chickens had their dust baths and the grassy field where the horses grazed. There was the little school in the upturned water trough under the clump of bushes where she’d learned – well, not as much as she should.
And there were her friends, playing what looked like a really fun game of ‘It’!
‘Hey!’
Amy landed with a bump.
The posse of chickens looked round. They blinked at her in surprise.
All of a sudden, Amy felt shy. It had been ages since she’d seen any of them. Maybe they wouldn’t remember her.
‘It’s me, Amy!’ she said, taking off her super-spec headset so they could see her properly.
‘Amy?’ said one of them. ‘But your mum said you weren’t coming!’
‘Change of plan,’ Amy explained. ‘I decided I would in the end.’
‘I’ll go and tell your parents you’re here,’ another one offered. The chicken scurried off.
There was an awkward silence. Amy couldn’t think of anything to say. The other chickens scuffed their feet on the ground.
‘Did you really fly here?’ asked a third chicken, eyeing Amy’s equipment.
‘Yes,’ Amy said. She took off the flight-booster engine. ‘Would you like a go?’
‘Yes, please!’ the chicken said.
Soon all the chickens were lining up to have a turn with the flight-booster engine.
‘This is so cool!’ they said, passing it from one to another.
Amy smiled bravely but inside she felt miserable. Her friends didn’t seem at all interested in her or her new job – only the flight-booster engine. It was as if she had turned into a complete stranger.
‘Watch out for the farmer,’ a voice said. ‘She might think it’s a bit odd if she sees her chickens trying out a flying machine.’ The voice belonged to a handsome cockerel. He held out his wings.
‘Dad!’ Amy cried. She raced up to him and threw her arms round him. ‘And Mum!’ she spotted her mother emerging from one of the coops. She looked more tired than Amy recalled, but still very pretty in a rosy-cheeked, plump, chickeny way.
‘Oh what a lovely surprise!’ Her mum gave her a huge hug. ‘Sorry if I kept you waiting. I’m incubating a clutch of eggs. I can’t leave them for too long.’
Chicken Mission: Chaos in Cluckbridge Page 3