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PIHO SPRANG FORWARDS and seized Randy by the front of his shirt. “You knew about this! You must have known about this! SO WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME?” And he began shaking Randy violently. The TV camera swooped in. Someone jumped into the fray and dragged the boys apart. It took two people to hold Piho back. He was raving. He was spitting chips. He was having a blue fit. “I’LL KILL YOU, CATHRO,” he was screaming, “I’LL BLOODY KILL YOU!”
Randy stood, dumb and numb. There was nothing he could say; nothing. He felt so bad that he nearly cried.
But this little kerfuffle was quickly lost in the bigger events around them. Tammy’s Aunt had stepped to the front of the crowd and taken the microphone from the policeman. “People of Haulaway,” she began, “We have caught the Toxic Dumpers! And it has left me feeling incredibly angry! Incredibly angry!! Because do you know who’s property we found the empty containers on? His!” and she pointed at Barry Boyd.
Boyd spluttered, “Ah, ah, ah, th-there must be some mistake! I-I-I really have no idea what she’s talking about! I’m sure this.., this-this-this unfortunate confusion will soon be sorted out!”
“Anyway,” said Billy suddenly, speaking out at last, “I’ve got nothing to do with dumping the stuff. I was just doing a job for the man! That man!” and he, too, pointing at Barry Boyd.
Randy pointed too, just for good measure. It looked good, anyway.
The crowd rumbled. People glanced this way and that, as if seeking answers from those beside them. Boyd blathered and spluttered some more, but everyone seemed far more interested in what the others had to say. Tammy’s aunt began to show her map to the chief cop. The other scientists crowded in, adding their own observations. The TV camera, and the whole crowd too, seemed to lean in, trying to listen.
Boyd did not look too happy. Randy had seen that sort of look before, a frightened person frantically trying to think up some convincing new lies. (In fact he had seen the very same expression all week, every time he'd glanced in the mirror.)
The cop turned to Billy, still not completely convinced. “So, what’s in the van then?” asked the cop, “What’s in them big blue drums?”
'At last,' thought Randy, 'let’s get some sense into this!'
“Seaweed!” he cried out, “It’s just seaweed! I’ll show you!”
“UH-UH!” said the cop when Randy went to hurry to the van, “You stay here. You’re a runner.” and he held Randy back.
A guy in the crowd called out, “We’ll get them!” And before anyone else could say otherwise, he and his burly mates had opened the van and started getting out the barrels. The crowd parted nervously as they rolled them right to the middle of the grass patch and stood them upright, with much thumping and shaking. The cop turned to the scientists, who had swarmed in to read the fine-print on the blue plastic.
“Yes!” “Definitely!” “This is the stuff!”
“So these drums contain the actual substance in question?”
“Yes,” replied Dr Antler, “as far as I can tell.”
“Hmmm,” said the cop, looking at Billy, “Well, sir, I guess I’m arresting you...”
“Aw!” huffed Randy impatiently, “Would someone just look in the barrels! I tell ya! It’s just seaweed!” and before anyone could stop him he grabbed the lid of the nearest one and gave it an angry twist.
First there was a hiss, then a kind of rumble, and then the whole thing seemed to simply explode. He saw a big flap of blue plastic fly past, plus a blinding shower of wet sloppy stuff. Two more bangs followed close behind, as the first explosion set off the other two barrels. Everybody screamed and fell over like a bombed forest, and there was a terrible, strange, revolting noise everywhere: a kind of sloppy, flapping, slapping, splatting noise, and although it lasted for only a moment, it left a lasting impression on Randy’s mind.
It also left a lasting impression on the people of Haulaway Bay.
#
WHEN RANDY LIFTED HIS head and looked around he just couldn’t quite figure it. Had he died? Had he gone to another dimension? Everything had changed colour! Everyone was covered top to bottom in a muddy green slime, with thousands of little rubbery ‘crab-apples’ stuck everywhere, like bobbles on a bunch a very colourless clowns. Finally he began to realise what had happened, and he groaned in despair.
Then he heard someone barfing.
Then the smell hit him.
He had, by then, developed a little resistance to the smell of rotting seaweed, but all the same he found it difficult to hold his stomach down as he joined the growing stampede of people that were moving radially away from the epicentre of what must have been the biggest stink-bomb in history.
Those to beach-wards had the advantage. They reached the Great Outdoor Bathtub first and plunging into the surf without hesitation, clothes and all, straight in, head under, scrubbing furiously at the thick sticky sludge and bobbling bobbles. Within minutes the entire population was in there, gasping and groaned and screaming and scrubbing and, in a few cases, still barfing. But the ocean was kind. It washed them all clean.
One by one the good citizens staggered ashore, their slimy stained clothes clinging tightly. It was like a scene from a disaster movie.
One by one Randy began to recognise people again. There were Cedar, spitting and sputtered and swearing like Randy didn’t believe was possible. Cypress was clinging to Cedar limply, whimpering, “Toxic waste! I’ve been contaminated! Mr Nakamura will never deal with us again!”
“Isn’t it nice?” said Randy as they went past him, “Now everyone’s Sharing in the Abundance!” Cypress looked too sick to care, and all Cedar did was to yell after him, “We’re cancelling all your cheques, you criminal!”
Next thing he spotted Barry Boyd. He was being followed by a wretched-looking policeman, heavily splattered but one of the few who hadn’t dived into the sea to wash. The cop was saying, “I’m sorry, Mr Boyd, but I must (heave, retch) ask you to come to the (blurp) station for questioning...”
Following them was the TV news cameraman, also one of the great unwashed. His camera was still rolling and he looked as happy as a pig in poo.
Boyd saw Randy and shook a finger at him weakly. “I remember you now, boy! I remember you! I’ll get you for this one day! I’ll get you!”
Randy turned and hurried elsewhere through the throng. He met Tammy next. She didn’t look too good, her face was pale and she still had sticky ‘crab apples’ wobbling in her hair. (A vision slightly offset, to Randy's gaze, by the fact that she'd recently divested herself of everything except her undies.)
“Randy!” she gasped, pausing as she staggered through the sand towards some unknown destination, “That was the most revolting, disgusting, yucky practical joke I have ever had the misfortune to experience! How could you?!”
“I didn’t..,” he stammered, “I mean I wouldn’t.., like it wasn’t...”
“And..,” she went on, gasping for good air to breath, “..and you knew! You knew about the toxic dumping!! And you didn’t stop it!!” She was crying now.
He tried to protest, “I didn’t, honest! I was.., I mean I should have, but see I ..., anyway I was going to tell you, honest...”
But she wasn’t listening, “And there weren’t any dolphins, were there?!” she cried, “You were trying to put us off the track! Gee, I really misjudged you! I really did!” and she stomped away, brushing away her tears. He watched her go. He was really sad and confused. Seeing her like that, all angry and disillusioned and in her underwear, it made him realise just how much he loved her.
“Hey, buddy,” said a voice by his ear, “that doesn’t look good.” It was Piho. Randy turned, expecting a punch in the kisser or something, but Piho didn’t seem to be mad anymore. In fact Piho was grinning, and he gave Randy a congratulatory pat on the back.
“Excellent result, man! Thanks! You’re a real friend!”
“Eh?”
“That trick with the barrels? That was so cool!”
“Huh?” Then Randy turned right around, following Piho’s pointing finger. It was the mural. It looked different. Aside from the thousands of little pieces of seaweed stuck everywhere and the skid-marks left by flying slime-balls, the painting had been changed as if by magic. The explosion must had blown off all the soft new paint that Beau had put on that morning, for the towering heroic figure of Piho was once again wearing his shorts.
“Hallelujah!” whispered Randy, “So there really is a Great Thingy!”
#
THEN, AS THEY GAZED at it in wonder, an urgent voice called from behind them.
“Hey, dudes! Wanna lift?!”
They turned. It was Billy. The road was clear and he had the motor running. Piho didn’t need much persuading, but Randy hesitated. “Uh, I dunno, I think I’d better stay and...” And then Beau arrived from somewhere. She was white. She was silent. She was vibrating all over. And she had a paint roller in her hand.
As Randy watched she ripped the sponge bit off with her bare hands, exposing a rather pointy-looking steel end, like a claw.
Then she screamed like one of the Raptors in ‘Jurassic Park’.
“Hey,” called Randy, running after the van, “I- I think I’ve just changed my mind! Billy?! Hey, hey! Wait!! STOP!!!!!