Nelson’s nose had stopped bleeding and he stood up so that the top half of his body stuck out of the sunroof. The weather was incredible. Sticking your head out a car window in England never felt like this. It was like being blasted by a jumbo jet, but instead of gas fumes, the air was filled with wonderful new smells like smoky wood, wet soil, and jasmine. The track stretched ahead in a straight line for miles, and there were very few other cars. Most of the vehicles they passed were trucks carrying cattle or goats to market, and every now and then they would whistle past a dusty old cabin with no sign of life other than the occasional dog (at which Nosh licked his lips hungrily).
It had taken Nelson a while to get used to being driven in a stretch limousine by a man who was being controlled telepathically by a cactus-shaped monster, perhaps not helped by the fact that the monster was acting on behalf of a bunch of other monsters who were able to track the whereabouts of his sister, but by the time they were an hour into the high-speed journey, and with his old clothes back on, free of lipstick and with hot, thrilling air filling his lungs, Nelson felt absolutely certain that every inch they traveled was an inch closer to Celeste.
Driiing! Driiing!
Nelson ducked back into the limo, where Uncle Pogo’s leg was ringing. He stared at it for a second, wondering if this was his uncle calling to see where on earth Nelson had gotten to.
Driiing! Driiing!
The monsters remained completely oblivious to the phone ringing. They were still humming away in the trancelike state that allowed them to find Celeste—their arms pointed in exactly the same direction and vibrating as if an electric current was passing through their very strange little bodies.
“This is Pogo. I’m sorry I can’t take your call at the moment, but please leave a message after the beep and I’ll get right back to you … Beep!” said his uncle’s recorded voice, and then Nelson’s father spoke.
“Pogo? It’s me. Stephen. Are you there? Can you pick up? Oh, no, of course you can’t literally pick up, because I’ve phoned your leg. Anyway, I tried you at the house but you weren’t there and I just wanted to know if Nelson was all right…”
Of course it didn’t make sense to speak to his dad at this moment in time, but Nelson was so happy to hear his father it knocked sense right out of the equation. He hit the Answer button and caught his father just before he hung up.
“Dad!”
“Nelson?”
“Yes! Yes, it’s me! Hello, Dad.”
“Oh my goodness. What are you doing answering your uncle’s leg?”
“Dad, you don’t have to worry, I’m completely fine. In fact, everything’s great,” said Nelson, and then suddenly realized how stupid that sounded. As far as his parents were concerned, his sister was missing, presumed dead—you can’t get much further from great than that.
“Oh! Well, that’s good. Where are you? The ring sounded like a foreign tone,” said his father, in a voice that, even through the speaker in a plastic leg, was clearly the voice of a completely exhausted human being.
Nelson hit the button to close the sunroof. “I’m watching TV. But I’m all right, Dad. Uncle Pogo is just, erm, taking a nap. Uh, how are you?” Nelson was now wishing he’d never answered the darn phone in the first place.
“It’s not good news, I’m afraid…” said his father, and Nelson instinctively clutched at the pendant to avoid any sudden surge of unhappiness.
“The police here … they’ve been very helpful … I mean, they’ve done everything they can…”
Nelson opened his mouth to say something that would give his father the same certainty that he felt in his bones. Something that would fill his father’s heart with the same amount of hope that he was experiencing. But he would never get the chance, because at that very moment a truck slammed into the side of the limo with the force of a tank.
Blam!
The monsters snapped out of their trance as they were hurled against the side of the limo interior, and the call from Nelson’s father cut off the very second the plastic leg collided with Nosh’s fat face.
Before anyone could even say “Ouch!” the truck hit the left side of the limo again, and everyone and everything inside was flung to the right. The fact that Jesus had such a firm grip on the wheel was the only thing that stopped the limo skidding off the track entirely.
Spike shouted, “Speed up, Jesus!” Which Jesus did, allowing them to avoid the third collision the truck had been going for.
“What’s happening?” yelled Nelson, but the monsters were in too much of a panic to make sense of anything. Nelson looked out the rear window, which was now cracked in a cobweb pattern, and saw the truck gaining on them. There was too much dust being kicked up to see who had it in for them, but I’m pretty sure you’ll have guessed who it is by now, even if Nelson hasn’t yet.
“It’s going to hit us again!” shouted Nelson, and turned around to see Stan punch the entire sunroof into the air and then leap up through the hole.
The angry monster landed on the roof of the limo and turned to face the approaching truck. “Let him catch up!” he yelled over the roar of wind and motor engines being pushed to their limit.
“What are you gonna do?” called Nelson.
“Whatever yer do, don’t stop!” bellowed Stan to Jesus, and with that he launched his fierce red body into the air. For a moment, his legs and arms whirled around as if he was running on air, before he slammed onto the hood of the truck. The metal beneath his hooves buckled like tinfoil and Stan took a moment to steady himself before pulling back a clenched fist that he clearly intended to go straight through the windshield. The driver had no idea there was anything standing in front of him, but whipped the steering wheel hard to the left to avoid a rock in the road, sending Stan flying.
Stan managed to grab the side mirror on the passenger side, but this snapped off as easily as a chocolate biscuit after it had been dunked in a cup of tea, and it tumbled into the road, taking Stan with it.
“Stan!” shouted Nelson, but the monster was already just a cloud of dust in the distance.
Just then the sun’s rays fell on the horrible face that belonged to Brian, and Nelson realized who was trying to kill them. What he didn’t know was why.
* * *
“Charge!” shouted Miser, and he led Crush and Hoot out of the sunroof.
“Wait! Don’t be stupid!” cried Nelson, even though he knew no one was listening to him right now.
* * *
Now, before I tell you what happened next, I just thought I would point out that Nosh did try to help but became lodged in the sunroof like a cork in a bottle, and Spike couldn’t take part as he was making sure Jesus stayed on course, so a fight was out of the question. Puff assumed everyone else had things under control so he had taken this opportunity to have a nap.
Let’s get back to the action.
* * *
Crush leaped through the air and hit the truck windshield like a gigantic bug. The glass shattered on impact and Crush tumbled onto the passenger seat.
“Honk!”
At that exact moment in time, Hoot flew back into view, carrying Miser in his claws. As he swooped over the truck, Hoot dropped Miser like a bomb onto the roof.
Blam!
Miser’s tentacles whipped out from either side of him and gripped the top of the driver’s cabin. Miser took as many steps backward as he could before pinging himself forward like a catapult, looping back and crashing through the windshield.
“Honk! Honk!”
Crush was really too small to be much use in a fight against a very large zombified man, but Miser was able to slap Brian silly with the whip-crack of his tentacles. Of course, Brian had no idea what was attacking him. He couldn’t see the monsters, but he could certainly feel the sharp stinging pain of their punches, kicks, and slaps. With one hand on the steering wheel, he beat the air around him with his other fist in the hope it would connect with whatever was attacking him. Poor old Crush got smacked right in the hooter and dropped into the footwell of the passenger seat. His usual honk had turned into a rather sad-sounding squeak, and his eyes were crossed and blinking randomly.
Miser wrapped his tentacles around Brian’s throat and squeezed like a boa constrictor. Brian’s eyes bulged more than ever and his fat tongue popped out of his mouth as if it was trying to wriggle out of his head. He managed to grab a part of Miser’s tentacle and bit down on it hard. Miser yelped in pain, but help was on its way from above.
“Bombs away!” shouted Hoot, who proceeded to drop a very dusty but extremely angry Stan onto the front of the truck. This time, when Stan swung his huge red fist back it would complete its journey to the middle of Brian’s creepy puffy face.
Pow!
You often hear the expression “He didn’t know what hit him,” but it was never truer than in this case. One second Brian was conscious of biting something invisible that was wrapped around his neck, the next he was slumped across the steering wheel completely unconscious.
* * *
The monsters leaped free of the truck just as it careered off the road and slammed into a telegraph pole. Brian’s big slippery body shot out through the open windshield, sailed through the air, and crashed straight through the tiled roof of a nearby cowshed. The cows, who had been using the shed as refuge from the hot sun, ran out of it with a great deal of mooing.
* * *
“Stop the car, Jesus,” said Spike, and Jesus gently applied the brake and pulled the car over on the side of the road. “Thank you, Jesus,” said Spike, and Jesus replied with a low, dreary moan. “Huuurgh.”
Nelson was already running across the road to where Crush, Miser, and Stan lay coughing and spluttering in the dust.
“Are you all right?” cried Nelson.
“Did we get ’im?” snarled Stan, struggling to his feet, and Nelson turned back to the cowshed. Apart from some seriously freaked-out cattle, there was no sign of life.
“We must be sure. Follow me,” hissed Miser, his eyes still red from the fight.
“Let’s just go. He won’t come after us again,” suggested Nelson, but the monsters, including Nosh, were already running toward the cowshed.