The Mystery of Stormy Island Page 3

‘You’ve seen them?’ Thaddeus looked shocked.

  ‘They came to see me, actually,’ the doctor said. ‘They were worried when they heard what had happened with the brick-eggs bombs.’

  ‘They were?’

  ‘Yes. They wanted to visit you, but I said you weren’t well enough.’ He patted Thaddeus’s paw. ‘The fact is, my friend, those chickens have treated you shamefully. They’ve lost sight of the natural order of things. Any fox in your paws would have ended up the same way. Everyone knows that.’

  ‘You think?’ Thaddeus said. There was a touch of hope in his voice.

  ‘I promise you.’ The doctor saw he might be getting somewhere at last. He decided to play his trump card. ‘Look, Thaddeus, this … er … condition of yours, I’ll be honest – it’s a little bit out of my league.’ Normally the doctor spent his time amongst the woodland animals treating coughs and sneezes, removing ticks and giving advice to ferrets about how to rear their young. The most exciting it got was setting the occasional badger’s broken leg. ‘I can’t help you. That’s why I think you should go and see a specialist: someone who knows how to treat phobias like the one you’re suffering from.’

  ‘You mean leave the burrow?’ Thaddeus gasped. ‘I can’t!’

  ‘Now, hear me out,’ the doctor said firmly. ‘I’ve found somewhere: a place where the doctors understand your sort of illness; a place full of distressed foxes like you; a place where they can make you better,’ the doctor rushed on. ‘It’s by the sea. Imagine that, Thaddeus! I can almost smell the fresh air!’ The doctor twitched his nose. The burrow smelled like an old nappy.

  ‘Fresh air!’ Thaddeus let out a little whimper of joy at the thought. Then his face fell. ‘I’m not going on my own. I can’t! What if they’re out there?’

  ‘You don’t have to go on your own,’ the doctor said patiently. ‘I’ll come with you and drop you off. We can catch the goods train from Dudley. No one will see us. And it’s only a couple of miles across country to the clinic at the other end. Professor Rooster’s elite-chicken squad won’t even know you’ve gone! What do you say?’

  Thaddeus E. Fox thought for a moment. ‘The doctors at the clinic, they’ll cure me, you say?’

  ‘Yes,’ said the doctor.

  ‘And then I’ll be back to my normal evil self?’

  ‘I give you my word.’

  Thaddeus let out a long, rasping sigh. ‘Okay, I’ll go.’

  ‘Excellent!’ The doctor jumped up. ‘I’ll pack a bag for you. Where’s your top hat?’

  ‘In the closet with my cane,’ Thaddeus responded listlessly. He got up and put his slippers on. Then he shuffled towards the part of the burrow which he used as a toilet. ‘By the way, doctor,’ he called, ‘what’s the name of this place that you’re taking me to?’

  The doctor threw the last bits and pieces into the bag and snapped it shut. He consulted his notes. ‘The Stormy Cliff Convalescent Home for Distressed Foxes,’ he replied. ‘Now, hurry up or we’ll miss that train!’

  Meanwhile, to the north, the chickens were making good progress. The weather was fine and they had covered the distance quickly from Dudley Manor to the countryside near Stormy Cliff. It was only when they struck out for the coast that they started to experience difficulties. The sea breeze was so strong and gusty that it buffeted them backwards and forwards. It was all they could do to keep a straight course.

  James Pond had no such problems. He might be ungainly on land, but he was a good flyer. Amy felt envious. She wished chickens could fly without flight booster engines. Maybe someone should give them some of that DNA stuff from a different bird like an albatross!

  Amy flew on. They were nearly at the coast. She could see where the land ended and fell away into the sea. Amy had never been to the seaside before. Although it was a sunny day, the sea looked cold and uninviting. She couldn’t ever imagine wanting to swim in it, even if she could actually stay afloat without her feathers getting waterlogged. Swimming was another thing James Pond could do and chickens couldn’t. It wasn’t fair!

  ‘There’s the caravan park!’ Boo shouted. The three chickens were flying in a line behind James Pond; Boo first, then Amy, with Ruth bringing up the rear. They were trying to stay in the duck agent’s slipstream so they didn’t have to use up so much energy.

  Amy looked down. Beneath them, set back from the cliff face, were two rows of rickety old caravans at right angles to the sea. At the end of the park was a field full of tiny brown specks. The chicken flock!

  ‘And there’s Stormy Island!’ Up ahead, a little way out to sea, a great chunk of pale grey rock loomed out of the water like a gigantic tombstone.

  ‘The three friends reduced their speed, expecting to fly over the field where the other chickens lived, but to their dismay James Pond flew over the caravans and on towards the island.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Ruth shouted after him.

  ‘I want to get the lie of the land while Raptorov’s asleep,’ James Pond quacked. ‘We need to find the way into the caves.’

  Amy felt exhausted. All she wanted to do was go and meet the other chickens and get some decent grub. ‘Can’t we wait until tomorrow?’ she called hopefully.

  ‘No,’ James Pond shouted. ‘There’s no time to lose.’

  ‘He’s right, Amy.’ Boo flew alongside her. ‘The professor said Raptorov could attack at any time. The sooner we find out where he lives, the better.’

  Amy nodded despondently. Teatime with the chickens of Stormy Cliff would have to wait.

  On they flew over the edge of the cliff. Amy glanced back. The cliff face was the same colour as the island – greyish white. It wasn’t quite the sheer drop she had imagined, though. A steep path led down to the beach through a tangle of windblown bushes. The beach itself stretched as far as she could see in both directions. The part closest to the cliff was strewn with boulders where the cliff had fallen away. Next to it was a strip of dry white sand, which became darker and wetter the further you looked out to sea.

  ‘The tide’s out,’ Ruth explained, coming alongside her. ‘Look! There’s the causeway.’

  ‘Oh yes!’ said Amy. A thin path of slippery-looking rock led across the sea from the beach to the island. Even at low tide it didn’t look very safe.

  ‘We’ll put down at the end of the causeway,’ James Pond instructed. ‘And remember, no one make a sound.’

  The causeway came to an end at a small patch of shingle. The chickens started their descent. Amy could hear the hiss of stones as the sea swept in and out against the shingle.

  James Pond came in to land. He raised his upper body, beating his wings against the air to slow him down and dropped neatly onto the sea. From there he paddled to the shingle bank.

  The chickens landed with some difficulty beside him. Amy had particular problems. Maybe it was because she was smaller than the others, or because her tummy was fluffier, but although the sun was still shining strongly the wind seemed to catch her feathers and toss her around like a balloon. Eventually she managed to set down, landing with a loud crunch on her knees on the gravel.

  ‘Ouch!’ The yelp of pain escaped from her beak before she had a chance to stop it.

  James Pond shot her a filthy look. Boo and Ruth raised their wings to their beaks to shush her. Amy hung her head. If Raptorov could hear the drop of a pin from twenty metres away, then he could certainly hear a chicken squawk if he was anywhere close. She hoped she hadn’t jeopardised the mission.

  The four birds waited anxiously. Eventually James Pond gave a nod to signal that he thought it was safe to go on. Amy breathed a sigh of relief. Raptorov must be asleep somewhere deep inside the caves, hiding away from the bright sunshine. He hadn’t heard her after all.

  James Pond hopped up onto the rocks, beckoning the chickens to follow him. Amy fluttered up unsteadily beside him. There was no sign of the cave entrance. In fact there wasn’t a crack to be seen in the sheer rock face. This was going to be harder than they thought.

 
James Pond set off at a quick pace along the rocks that ringed the island. It was all right for him, Amy thought wearily as she slipped and slithered after her friends in a wonky line. The duck’s big webbed feet meant he could keep his balance. It wasn’t that easy if you had chicken toes, unless you were Boo, of course, who had no trouble at all with the smooth, wet surface because of her gymnastics training.

  On they hopped from boulder to boulder. After a little while, when Amy thought she couldn’t possibly cling on any longer, they arrived at a long, low ledge. Behind it, worn away by the sea, was the mouth of a cave!

  Amy peered in. It was quite dark inside, but she could see that the floor was littered with more stones. The stones were the same greyish white as the cliff. Some of them had been split open. They seemed to have strange patterns carved on them. Ruth was staring at them intently, a puzzled expression on her face. Amy wondered why.

  Boo gave Ruth a nudge and pointed to her backpack.

  Ruth nodded. Silently she removed the evil baddie Geiger counter and fixed it onto her wing. She tiptoed into the mouth of the cave and held her wing outstretched for a few seconds. Then she tiptoed back. She held out the gadget so that the others could see.

  The dial registered a score of eight.

  Raptorov! They had found the entrance to his lair.

  Suddenly Amy felt terrified. What if the owl was watching them from somewhere in the darkness with his binocular eyes? What if he really had heard her squawk? What if he suddenly flew out and skewered them with his great talons? Would he really be put off by the bright sunshine? She wasn’t so sure now. She felt her strength ebb. The journey had taken it out of her. She was cold and wet and tired and very hungry.

  Suddenly Amy’s tummy let out an enormous grumble. It echoed round the cave like a clap of thunder. Oh no! She’d done it again!

  This time she was answered by a noise from somewhere inside the island, beyond the cave.

  ‘HVRECK! HVRECK!’

  Amy had never heard a sound like it. It was somewhere between a bark and a scream.

  ‘Raptorov!’ James Pond hissed. ‘You’ve woken him up this time. Quick! We need to get out of here before he sees us.’

  The duck waddled out onto the ledge and ran along it, his wings beating furiously. He caught an updraft of wind and launched himself into the air.

  The three chickens scuttled onto the ledge after him.

  Boo and Ruth put their flight boosters to ROCKET BLAST MAX and zoomed off in the direction of Stormy Cliff. Amy fumbled with her controls. Her wings were slippery from all the sea spray and she felt so worn out she could hardly think straight.

  ‘HVRECK! HVRECK!’ The sound was getting closer. Raptorov was coming! Amy raised her head. A huge, hunched shadow stretched across the cave. It had the shape of a vampire in a horror movie, only it was much, much bigger. Raptorov must be approaching the cave from a tunnel. And, judging by the way his shadow was growing, it was only a matter of seconds before he emerged.

  Help!!!! Amy made her waterlogged wings into fists and gripped the control with all her might. Somehow she forced the knob to the right setting. Click! Amy felt herself lift straight up high into the air, close to the face of the cliff. She glanced down, half expecting to see the owl take off from the ledge after her and give chase. But there was no sign of Raptorov. He was either waiting in the cave or had gone back to his lair to resume his sleep.

  Amy hovered for what seemed an age. Then, when she felt it was safe she shot off towards Stormy Cliff after her friends.

  About an hour later, Amy was feeling much better. She was sitting on the step of one of the old caravans that doubled up as the chickens’ sleeping quarters, surrounded by a group of admiring chicks. Boo and Ruth were next to her. Most gratifyingly of all, James Pond was nowhere to be seen. As no one had been expecting him, he’d had to be temporarily housed in the old dustbin shed next to the loos.

  ‘Did you actually see Raptorov?’ one of the chicks said in awe.

  ‘No, just his shadow,’ Amy replied. Suddenly her close shave with death at the talons of Vladimir Alexei Raptorov had turned into an enormous adventure rather than an accident of her own making. ‘He was all hunched over. And he was making a horrible noise.’

  ‘That’s typical owl behaviour,’ Ruth commented. ‘When they’re on the attack they hunch themselves forwards and spread their wings to make themselves look bigger. It’s known as their threat posture. That’s why he was making that noise. He was warning off intruders.’

  ‘I suppose the real question is did Raptorov see you?’ Boo asked Amy.

  Amy had been wondering about that too. If Raptorov had seen her she knew it might cause problems for the mission. The sight of a small chicken with a flight booster engine and an infra-red super-spec headset would be bound to make the owl suspicious. ‘I don’t think so,’ she said slowly. ‘I took off before he reached the cave. And he didn’t try and follow me. I think he went back inside the cliff.’

  ‘Weren’t you scared?’ asked another chick.

  ‘Nope,’ Amy lied. ‘Not a bit.’ It wasn’t exactly boasting. The chicks had faith in the elite-chicken squad; she didn’t want to scare them by admitting that she had nearly been frightened out of her feathers.

  ‘Do you think you can get rid of him?’ A third chick asked in a small voice.

  ‘Well, er …’ Actually, could they? Amy wasn’t sure. Now that she had seen the shadow of the great owl at close range, the idea of stunning him with James Pond’s bow-tie laser torch and fitting the homing device onto his leg seemed even more daunting than it had done back at Chicken HQ.

  ‘Of course we can,’ Boo said confidently, coming to her rescue. ‘We wouldn’t be here otherwise.’

  ‘Hooray!’ yelled the chicks.

  Amy hopped off the steps. She hoped Boo was right. Meanwhile it had turned into a beautiful afternoon. The wind had dropped and now that her tummy was full of chicken feed (generously supplied by her new friends), she felt like doing some exploring. ‘Who fancies a trip to the beach?’ she said.

  ‘We do!’ the chicks cheeped.

  ‘Are you sure it’s safe?’ one of the mother hens asked anxiously.

  Amy looked at Ruth for guidance.

  ‘It should be,’ Ruth said. ‘Raptorov’s nocturnal. He’ll only attack at night. Although I’m a bit puzzled as to why he hasn’t done so already.’

  ‘We’ve been sleeping in the caravan,’ the hen said.

  ‘Even so …’ Ruth cast a dubious look at the dilapidated caravan. She didn’t say any more, but Amy could tell there was something on her mind.

  ‘Shall we go then?’ Amy said brightly. She didn’t want the chickens to start worrying that they weren’t safe after all, and besides, she really wanted to go to the beach.

  The mother hens went into a huddle. ‘All right,’ they agreed eventually. ‘But make sure you’re back before it gets dark.’

  ‘Yay!’ The chicks scurried off towards the cliff path. Boo and Ruth rushed after them.

  Amy was about to follow when one of the mother hens called her back. ‘Here!’ she said, thrusting a basket over Amy’s wing. ‘Take this – it’s got all the beach stuff in it. And this!’ She threw a towel over Amy’s other wing.

  ‘Thanks!’ Amy raced after the others.

  Boo and Ruth were picking their way through the bushes, deep in conversation. ‘So what do you think Raptorov’s up to?’ Boo was asking Ruth in a low voice.

  ‘I wish I knew,’ Ruth replied. ‘I can’t figure it out.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Amy, joining her friends. ‘Raptorov wants to eat chickens. That’s what the professor said. He’s like Thaddeus E. Fox, only worse.’

  ‘Ruth doesn’t think it’s that simple, Amy,’ Boo explained, taking the towel from her.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Well, if all he wanted to do was eat chickens, why hasn’t he attacked the flock already?’ Ruth said. ‘The caravan wouldn’t hold him off for long. Did you see
how dilapidated it is? He could easily get in if he tried.’

  ‘But what else could he want?’ Amy said, flummoxed.

  Ruth shook her head. ‘I don’t know. But I’ve got a feeling it’s something to do with this place. I mean why choose Stormy Island? He could have gone anywhere.’ She paused. ‘Did you see those stones in the cave?’

  Boo nodded. ‘I was wondering what they were.’

  ‘Me too,’ said Amy. ‘I meant to ask you about them. They had carvings on.’

  ‘They weren’t carvings,’ said Ruth. ‘They were fossils.’

  ‘Fossils?’ Boo exclaimed.

  Amy listened carefully. She knew vaguely what a fossil was. It was the remains of an animal from millions of years ago that had somehow been turned into stone, although how that actually happened she hadn’t got a clue! Maybe Ruth knew.

  Boo was still speaking. ‘What on earth would Raptorov want with fossils?’ she said.

  ‘I’m not sure yet,’ Ruth sighed. ‘But there are loads of them around here. These cliffs are chalk, you see – and chalk is one of the best types of rock to find fossils in. And if he wants them for some reason, this is the place to come.’

  Boo looked at her friend incredulously. ‘You think that’s why he’s at Stormy Island?’ she said. ‘To collect fossils?’

  Ruth didn’t get a chance to answer because they had arrived at the beach. The chicks dashed about excitedly. Amy was excited too. She felt the soft sand between her toes. It was much less scratchy than dirt. Amy decided she liked the beach. She thought she might even go for a paddle if the water wasn’t too cold!

  ‘Maybe we should organise some games,’ Boo suggested, laying the towel out neatly.

  ‘Good idea,’ said Amy, setting the basket of beach stuff down. The chicks gathered round.

  ‘Who wants to make sandcastles?’ Amy asked, pulling out some plastic ice-cream spoons and tubs that doubled as buckets and spades.

  ‘Me, me, me, me, me!’

  Amy handed them out. ‘Maybe you should be in charge of that, Ruth?’ she suggested.