Rover, Messi, Jimmy, Miriam and Robbie ran and cycled under a lot of Europe and the Mediterranean Sea.
It was dark all the way.
Except when they met a rabbit with a torch.
‘Merci, pal,’ said Rover when they passed the rabbit under Paris.
‘Mais groooovy!’ said the French rabbit, shining the torch for them.
Miriam, Robbie and Jimmy could feel the roofs of the tunnels right over their heads. Sometimes they could feel their hair rubbing the mucky ceiling. And they could feel the stones and roots under the wheels of their bikes. They knew that they might cycle into something big, and fall. But they didn’t slow down. They had to find the BFB.
Rover was tired.
He didn’t run a lot these days. But today – so far – he had run under the Irish Sea, England, the English Channel, France, Spain and the Mediterranean Sea.
And it was still the morning.
‘Look!’
There was the tunnel and there was light. And the light was where Rover wanted it, at the end of the tunnel.
‘Nearly there,’ said Rover.
He took a deep, deep breath – and ran.
The light got bigger and rounder.
‘Nearly . . . there . . .’
The light got a little bit bigger.
‘. . . nearly . . . . . . . . . . . . there.’
And bigger.
Then it seemed to get a bit smaller.
No, it didn’t.
It got bigger – until they could see that the roof above them was higher. The tunnel was wider too, and they could all see properly now, because the sunlight was coming in.
They charged out, into the middle of the Sahara Desert.
‘And here we are,’ said Rover.
‘Wow,’ said the three humans.
‘Oh,’ said Messi. ‘Oh.’
He stood looking at the sand.
All of the sand.
All over the place.
‘It’s beautiful,’ said Miriam.
‘It’s messy,’ said Messi.
‘Calm down, Messi,’ said Rover.
‘We have to tidy it up, Uncle Rover,’ said Messi.
‘Not today, Messi.’
‘Hmmmmmm,’ said Messi.
‘We don’t have time,’ said Rover. ‘Besides, it’s a desert.’
‘It’s too sandy,’ said Messi.
‘It’s supposed to be sandy,’ said Rover.
‘Hmmmmmmmmm,’ said Messi.
‘There’s the airport!’ said Miriam.
She pointed at it, across the sand.
‘Come on!’
They started cycling over the sand. But it wasn’t easy. It was hard work. The muscles in their legs weren’t very happy.
But they kept going.
Messi cheered up when he saw a camel.
‘Camel poo, Uncle Rover,’ he said.
‘Good man, Messi,’ said Rover.
While the others charged towards Casablanca Airport, Messi ran up to the camel and scooped his poo into the bag with the cow poo.
‘Thanks,’ he said.
‘Groovy,’ said the camel, who thought he was a rabbit.
Messi ran nearly as fast as he could and caught up with the others.
Just in time to see a white plane taking off.
‘Oh, no!’
‘Where’s that plane going, pal?’ Rover asked a Moroccan rabbit.
The rabbit pointed east.
They all tried to think of places east of Casablanca.
‘Algiers?’ said Jimmy.
The rabbit shook his head.
‘Tunis?’ said Miriam.
The rabbit shook his head.
‘Tripoli?’ said Robbie.
And the rabbit shook his head.
‘It must be Cairo then,’ said Rover.
But the rabbit shook his head.
Messi knew his geography.
‘Tel Aviv?’ he said.
The rabbit gave his head a shake.
‘Beirut?’
The rabbit shook his head.
‘Come on, come on,’ said Robbie. ‘We have to find Emily. Istanbul?’
‘Groovy,’ said the rabbit, and he nodded his head.
