chapter
NINETY-SEVEN

Sky Malbranque was lost.

The Fridge Detail had been let into the Prisoner Rapid Removal system ten minutes earlier.

The cop they found in a pastry shop couldn’t see how anyone could have gotten in there, let alone with some fridges, but he had been tired and wanted to get home. And having five overly excited people from a Fridge Detail gabbling away had just gotten too much for him.

And now, Sky Malbranque wandered brandishing his flashlight at the walls with awe, as though he were Lord Carnarvon entering the tomb of Tutankhamen.

At each junction, Sky Malbranque listened for the hoot of an owl. “Owl?” he called into the darkness. “Are you there?”

He wandered on, footsteps echoing from the metal.

“Hi! I’m Dan Cicero, mayor of New Seattle. You might have heard of me,” said the voice, reverberating into life on a screen a little way down the tunnel. “People call me the Mayor of Safety.” The picture froze. Sky Malbranque watched, his head tilted to one side.

“Are you the wizard?” he said. And then after a while, when nothing happened, he took off his orange coat and covered the screen. “Dead man,” he said.

And then he froze. He was sure he heard a hoot echoing faintly down the tube.

He scurried after the noise and eventually saw slits of light.

“Hey,” said the Frost Fox as he approached. “Want to hear a song about sell-by dates? We’ve been working on the harmonies.”

“I heard a hoot,” said Malbranque.

“Yeah, that’s the Ice Jumper. He likes to hoot.”

The fridge did another owl hoot.

Malbranque stared wide-eyed, then walked over and patted it. “The wizard said he would get me an owl. I’m going to look after you,” he said. “I’ve never had an owl before.”

“I’m not actually an owl,” said the Ice Jumper.

“You must be,” said Malbranque. “I heard you hooting. You are the most beautiful owl I have ever seen. What do owls eat?”

“Yogurt,” said the fridge. “And milk and hummus.”

“Then I shall get you some. Would you like to come with me, owl?”

“Yes,” said the fridge. “I would like that.”

And Malbranque led the fridge out into the alley.

“Bye, everyone,” called the Ice Jumper.

“See you!” said the tumble dryer.

“Yeah, catch you later,” said the Frost Fox and the Cold Moose.

And they watched as Sky Malbranque led the fridge off by the hand.

“Der! Der! Der! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!” he hummed in a vague approximation of Thus Spake Zarathustra.

And the fridge joined in.