Nelson could still hear the raised voices and alarms ringing at the far end of the terminal they had set fire to, but he didn’t dare look back.
He and the monsters walked as fast as they could and thundered down the tunnel leading to the plane like a football team heading toward the field. Even Hoot was running, as the tunnel was too low to fly in without hitting the roof. Nelson had managed to get past the stewards at the gate by responding to their comments, such as, “You are the last to board, Ms. Gatsky,” and, “It’s good to see you flying with us again, Ms. Gatsky,” with nods and little high-pitched grunts instead of actual words, and he was planning to use exactly the same technique when he met the stewards on the plane.
But he stopped dead when he saw the steward waiting for him at the door of the plane. There was no way the monsters could remain undetected in there. They were sure to cause chaos within seconds, and then the plane would never leave. Nelson couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought this far ahead. He was an idiot, and wasn’t only about to get caught dressed as a woman, but was also going to give away the awkward secret that he had seven monsters following him about everywhere.
“You’ll have to go down with the luggage,” whispered Nelson.
“Typical. And you get to fly in the nice part of the plane, I suppose,” complained Spike.
“You’re making a scene. You know I have to get on this plane now,” Nelson hissed as he pretended to look for something in his pockets.
“The boy is right. We must avoid the humans’ carriage—this way!” said Miser, and with his tentacles he whipped open a door in the side of the tunnel. An airport security officer standing nearby assumed the wind had blown the door open and quickly moved to close it, by which time the monsters, most of whom were extremely cross about not getting to sit in the cabin, had escaped through it. Except Crush. Crush gripped onto Nelson’s leg like a toddler clinging to its mother on the first day of school.
“Everything all right, madam?” said the waiting steward to Nelson, who was trying to shake Crush off his leg as casually as possible.
“Mmm, hmm!” was Nelson’s high-pitched reply, before bending down as if to fetch something from out of the steel suitcase.
“Crush, please. Go with the others,” begged Nelson, but Crush would not let go and honked his distress as loudly as he could.
“Well, then you’d better not do anything stupid, okay?” whispered Nelson, peering at him over the top of Donna’s sunglasses. Crush honked and squeezed Nelson’s leg even tighter.
“Okay, let go now,” said Nelson, but Crush was too excited and happy to release his grip.
“Ms. Gatsky, we’re running late so if you wouldn’t mind…” said the steward, and Nelson had to walk with Crush hanging on to his lower right leg. Nelson had never met Donna Gatsky, but he was pretty sure that she didn’t walk with the pirate-style limp he had to adopt in order to get on board.
“Right this way, Ms. Gatsky,” said the steward, who had short blond hair that was coated in so much gel it made him look like a Playmobil toy. Nelson just nodded and smiled without showing his teeth. He was doing a remarkably decent job of seeming confident, but behind those dark glasses hid a very scared boy whose heart was beating like that of a hummingbird who’d just knocked back his fifth double espresso.
“How come that stupid honking little twit gets to sit up there with Nelson?” bellowed Spike, but none of the other monsters heard him over the roar of the jet engines or the wind that whistled through the metal bars of the spiral stairs leading down to the tarmac. Hoot instantly took to the air and drifted down to the door that hung open in the plane’s belly while the others bounded down the stairs.
“Chop, chop! Get a wiggle on, my lovelies!” cried Hoot as the monsters scrambled across the tarmac, narrowly missing a passing airline food truck, and leaped onto the conveyor belt that was carrying the very last pieces of luggage from the tarmac up into the plane. The monsters surveyed what was to be their home for the next twelve hours with the disdain of vacationers who have just opened the door to their hotel room and found it to be a dungeon. Spike let out a mournful groan and several of the monsters nodded in agreement.
“Oh, it’s not that bad, chaps. Come along, chin up,” said Hoot as he settled onto one of the crates.
“What about Crush? Where Crush?” shouted Nosh.
“I was just saying, he’s up there in the lap of luxury with Nelson. All right for some, eh?” moaned Spike.
“Well, I think it’s rather fine down here. Plenty of room to spread out and all that,” said Hoot, admiring his reflection in the surface of a chrome control panel. “Isn’t this fun, eh, chaps? All of us together on a grand adventure. I say, why don’t we all sing a jolly old song? Come on, Nosh—you must know a good tune.”
To everyone’s surprise it was Puff who spoke up. Puff hardly ever said a word, so when he did, everyone listened.
“Hoot … before we sing a song … why don’t you … fly up … and look in through the windows?… Make sure … Nelson’s on the plane,” said Puff in a slow drawl that was so deep you could feel his words vibrating in your chest, even in the cargo hold of a plane whose engines had begun to make about-to-take-off noises.
“Spiffing idea, Puff! I’ll be back in a jiffy!” squawked Hoot as he sailed out the cargo door.
Puff smiled, but it was a wicked smile and the others were quick to realize what he was up to.
“But Hoot get stuck outside,” said Nosh, who had already eaten the handle of an old leather trunk.
“If I am not mistaken, that was Master Puff’s intention,” said Miser, as the last of the ground crew stepped outside and the cargo hold became dark as they closed the hatch. It was clear that playing a trick like this on Hoot was the funniest thing anyone could do, as the monsters began to laugh hysterically. Just so you know, the sound of monsters laughing is rather like the sound of the water from five bathtubs going down the drains at the same time, mixed with the sound of five lions roaring with satisfaction after eating a particularly meaty and delicious zebra.
* * *
Nelson had never sat in a first-class cabin before, and to say it was luxurious would be an understatement. His seat was at least three times the size of a dentist’s chair, as soft and comfortable as a feather bed, and it could adjust into any position with just the touch of a button. The royal blue carpet was so thick he could grip it with his toes (his sneakers had already been stashed under his seat), and the screen that rose like the arm of a ballet dancer from his seat promised him a selection of movies and games that made his brain spin with delight. It was as if he had been made lord of a fantasy world, and the stewards, who laid a Coke and some sour-cream-flavored nibbles on his side tray and presented him with a leather wash bag, were his loyal courtiers. Of course Nelson was not alone. Crush had at last let go of his leg, but was now snuggled up against him like a real-life cuddly toy. First-class passengers are also given lovely blankets and duvets, and Nelson used them to cover up as much of himself and Crush as possible. And he intended to remain under these blankets until the plane landed in Brazil.
* * *
Tap! Tap! Tap!
There were only nine passengers in the first-class cabin, and all of them turned toward the direction the noise was coming from.
Tap! Tap! Tap!
But there was nothing to be seen, unless you were Nelson, in which case you would have seen Hoot tapping on the window of the plane with a claw and his solid silver beak.
Nelson looked at him with wide eyes and clenched teeth.
“Hello there! Just checking you were on the plane!” shouted Hoot, although Nelson could barely hear him through the triple glazing.
“And I see you are! Very cozy indeed! I shall now join the others and inform them of your position! We are going to have a sing-song! Toodle-oo!”
And even though no one but him could hear Hoot, Nelson’s cheeks flushed red with embarrass-ment and Crush gave a small honk of support.
Nelson resumed his position and the rest of the passengers went back to their newspapers and drinks. The plane made a gentle rocking movement and started to drift backward away from the airport terminal. Nelson was just bringing his Coke to his lips when he was interrupted once again by …
Tap! Tap! Tap!
He turned to see Hoot waving a wing at him.
“I appear to have been locked out!” shouted Hoot, as the plane started to trundle toward the runway.
All Nelson could do was shake his head ever so slightly and shrug. I mean, what else was there to do?
“Oh, dearie me! This could be a problem!” shouted Hoot, and Nelson nodded in agreement.
“Everything all right over here?” oozed the Playmobil steward, who for some reason had put on a jacket especially for takeoff.
“Mmm, hmm,” said Nelson as his cheeks managed to find an even deeper shade of pink and his eyes began watering with embarrassment.
“Well, let’s get your seat in the upright position for takeoff then, shall we?” said the steward, pressing a button and raising Nelson’s chair. Crush did not trust this young man at all and made his feelings known in the only way he could—by honking (angrily).
* * *
Though he knew no one else could see Hoot, Nelson didn’t dare look out the window again until the stewards had taken his empty cup away and started the safety demonstration. A quick peek through the glass confirmed that Hoot was perched on the wingtip. But just beyond Hoot, inside the terminal from which they were departing, Nelson saw an even stranger sight: a very large man who had rushed to the open end of the tunnel they had just pulled away from was being held back by security men. The man wore a sun hat pulled low over his forehead, his tummy hung out of his shirt, and he could not tear his bulging, milky eyes off the plane containing the boy he so desperately needed to catch. Of course, Nelson had no idea this man was Celeste’s uncle Brian.
* * *
“Cabin crew, prepare for takeoff,” said the captain’s voice, and Nelson heard the distant cheer of the monsters in the hold below.
As they hurtled down the runway and rose into the air, Hoot let go and spread his wings wide. He seemed to be held in position above the plane by the jet stream that enveloped the tip of the wing like white ribbons made of air. And there he hovered, frantically flapping if he strayed out of position.
Nelson felt the plane bank to the right and there was London beneath him, just about to start waking up and getting on with things. The city looked wonderful from up here, with the sun peeping over the horizon just enough to light the tips of the tall buildings like candles. The last few hours of Nelson’s life had been so utterly bonkers it was hard to believe everything that had happened, but they had made it onto the plane and, most impressive of all, they were going to escape the blame for leaving behind one of the biggest fiascos Heathrow Airport security had ever seen.
And so, as Uncle Pogo’s van was towed away to a pound where it would stay until somebody paid the fine to get it out again, and Brian was led off to an interview room for questioning over his suspicious behavior, Nelson and his monsters sailed through the sky toward Brazil and a new chapter in their adventure. Nelson hoped it would go a little more smoothly than the last.