The Mystery of Stormy Island Page 8

  Inside his bed cave Thaddeus was getting ready for the feast. The granny raptors were safely locked away in their prison quarters and the chickens from Stormy Cliff Caravan Park were chilling in the larder. He hadn’t actually killed any of them yet: he liked his chicken fresh. Best of all, Professor Rooster’s elite-chicken squad would have been eaten by the ptero-duck-tyl by now. Life was good!

  He admired his reflection in the mirror. Looking back at him, elegant in top hat, tails and a silk waistcoat was the dandiest, sassiest, most handsome fox that he had ever seen. Him! Yes, he could still do with putting on a couple more kilos, but the feast to come would soon fix that. Then he would be fully restored to the Thaddeus E. Fox of old. With the army of granny raptors at his side and no elite-chicken squad to spoil his plans, nothing could stop him. He picked up his cane and gave it a twirl. Then he pattered off down the tunnel towards the laboratory to find his new friend.

  As he expected, Raptorov was hard at work on his experiments, listening to Swan Lake.

  Daaaaa – du-du-du-du-du – da-daaaa – da-daaaa – du-du-du-du-du – daaaaa.

  The music crashed and boomed.

  ‘Thaddeus!’ the owl hooted, catching sight of him. ‘Your timing is perfect. We both have something to celebrate!’

  ‘We do?’ said Thaddeus noncommittally. He didn’t want to bring on another big-head evil baddie speech by asking too many questions.

  The owl’s eyes twinkled. ‘Guess what I found on the beach tonight while your granny raptors were at work stocking the larder?’

  ‘A fossil?’ Thaddeus hazarded.

  ‘Yes, a fossil!’ Raptorov clicked his beak impatiently. ‘But not just any fossil. The fossil of a T. rex claw!’

  ‘Cool,’ said Thaddeus. ‘What are you going to do with it?’

  ‘Do? Twit twoo! I have already extracted the DNA.’ Raptorov waved a test tube at the fox. Now all I need is to find the right bird to try it out on. It’s my next step towards world domination. We must celebrate together.’

  ‘Shall I start the fire for the feast?’ Thaddeus said hopefully. He felt famished.

  ‘Just let me tidy up here a bit first,’ Raptorov said. He labelled the T. rex DNA and placed the test tube carefully in a rack, then he shuffled about, collecting his equipment.

  ‘Er, do you think we could listen to something a bit more cheerful while you do that?’ Thaddeus asked politely. He found Swan Lake a bit gloomy.

  ‘Of course! I know just the thing!’ Raptorov chuckled. He shuffled over to an old CD player.

  The delicate sound of orchestral violins being plucked dinked around the laboratory cave. Very soon a glockenspiel took up the melody.

  Da-da-da-da – da-da – duh-duh-duh – duh-duh-duh – duh-duh-duh – do-de-do-de-do!

  Thaddeus found his foot tapping in time to the music. It was a jaunty little tune – probably his favourite Tchaikovsky so far. ‘What’s that one called?’ he asked.

  ‘It’s the “Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy”, from the ballet, The Nutcracker,’ Raptorov replied.

  Dunalalalaa – do-de-do-do – di-di – duh-duh-duh – duh-duh-duh – duh-duh-duh – da-di-da-di-da!

  ‘Excellent!’ Thaddeus laughed. He felt like dancing himself, although ballet wasn’t his thing: he preferred the foxtrot.

  But someone else did prefer ballet. For just at that moment a beautiful honey-coloured hen wearing a purple ballet outfit pirouetted into the laboratory and began to perform a perfect pas de deux.

  Thaddeus’s eyes bulged. He’d know that chicken anywhere! It was the sporty one who did gymnastics from Professor Rooster’s elite-chicken squad. He felt his self-confidence drain away. Raptorov had promised him the ptero-duck-tyl would kill all three of them before they even made it to Stormy Island, yet at least one of them had survived. And here she was, prancing about the laboratory as if she didn’t give a flying feather that it contained two evil villains who would devour her on sight. He fought back tears of frustration. That was the problem with Professor Rooster and his team: they didn’t understand BOUNDARIES! And if the sporty one had survived, then the others probably had too. They’d be out there somewhere in the caves plotting to commit some nastiness upon his person. Even the thought of his army of granny raptors no longer filled him with confidence. If Professor Rooster’s squad could survive a ptero-duck-tyl attack, who was to say that they wouldn’t defeat the grannies? He had to warn Raptorov.

  ‘Ch-ch-ch-ch-chicken!’ he stuttered, pointing his cane shakily at Boo. ‘Pro-pro-pro-pro Roo-roo-roo-roo-rooster!’

  Raptorov didn’t respond immediately. His unblinking eyes were fixed on Boo.

  Da-da-da-da – da-da – duh-duh-duh – duh-duh-duh – duh-duh-duh – do-de-do-de-do!

  Dunalalalaa – do-de-do-do – di-di – duh-duh-duh – duh-duh-duh – duh-duh-duh – da-di-da-di-da!

  ‘Fascinating!’ Raptorov seemed entranced by the spectacle. ‘To survive the ptero-duck-tyl and then give a performance such as this! Just think, Thaddeus, what I could do with the DNA of this hen.’

  ‘What?’ squealed Thaddeus, aghast. The idea of more birds in the world with Boo’s DNA was horrific. ‘Why don’t you just eat it?’

  ‘Because if I extract its DNA first, I could create a whole ballet troop to entertain me!’ Raptorov replied. His eyes had taken on a dreamy look. ‘Not hens, of course, but something more elegant: flamingos, for example.’

  Flamingos? Thaddeus felt panic rise. He’d been so excited about the prospect of revenge he’d lost sight of how mad Raptorov really was.

  At that moment the music came to an end.

  ‘More!’ hooted Raptorov in delight. ‘Bravo!’

  Boo gave a deep curtsy. ‘Give me a minute.’ She pirouetted over to the CD player, slipped a disc from under her ballet outfit and put it on in place of The Nutcracker.

  Thaddeus E. Fox watched with growing concern. ‘I don’t think this is a good idea, Vladimir,’ he said nervously. Boo’s actions had all the hallmarks of a classic chicken-squad sting. Thaddeus knew their methods by now. One of them distracted you while the other two got ready to do something unmentionable. And it was happening again, right under their noses. He just knew it.

  ‘Nonsense, my friend!’ the owl chuckled. ‘What can one small hen do against the great Vladimir Alexei Raptorov?’

  Boo gave the owl an innocent smile. Then she turned the volume to FULL BLAST and pressed PLAY.

  BOOM-BOOM-NA-NA-NA

  BOOM-BOOM-NA-NA-NA

  The laboratory resonated with a deafeningly loud disco beat. It bounced off the floor and walls until they shook. A few loose test tubes fell onto the floor and smashed.

  ‘AAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGHHHHH!’ Raptorov screeched. He wrapped his wings over his ears. The disco music was playing havoc with his supersonic hearing. It felt as if someone were playing the drums in his head. ‘HVREK! HVREK! HVREK!’ he screeched. ‘Stop that horrible racket!’

  ‘It’s not a horrible racket. It’s called “The Funky Chicken”,’ Boo shouted back. ‘And it’s a lot more fun than boring old Tchaikovsky.’

  ‘How dare you!’ Vladimir roared. ‘Tchaikovsky is the greatest composer that ever lived.’ He hunched himself into the owl threat pose and made a grab for Boo with his enormous wings.

  ‘Down low, too slow!’ Boo taunted, somersaulting out of his reach.

  Raptorov tried again. But Boo was too quick for him. This time she did a backflip.

  ‘Catch her, Thaddeus!’ shouted Raptorov. ‘But remember, I want this hen alive!’

  ‘I can’t!’ Thaddeus E. Fox cowered in the corner.

  ‘Thaddeus,’ Raptorov rasped, ‘get a grip on yourself. It is just a dancing chicken. There is nothing to be scared of.’

  Reluctantly, Thaddeus got to his feet.

  Boo tumbled towards the entrance of the laboratory and disappeared.

  Just then they heard a commotion in the tunnel outside.

  ‘SQUAWWWKKKKKKKK-KA-KA-KA-KA!’

  It was the granny r
aptors.

  ‘I thought I told you to lock the cage?’ Raptorov rounded on Thaddeus.

  ‘I did!’ Thaddeus protested. ‘I left the key on the hook, just like you said.’

  The commotion was getting louder. The granny raptors were approaching the laboratory.

  ‘THIS WAY TO THE DISCO!’ cried a voice from the tunnel. ‘Come along, everyone!’

  Thaddeus’s whiskers trembled. The voice belonged to the smallest of Professor Rooster’s chicken warriors. The one with the fluffy tummy and the wrestling moves.

  ‘SQUAWWWKKKKKKKK-KA-KA-KA-KA!’

  ‘Here we are!’ said the voice. ‘In you go. After the food.’

  ‘What food?’ Raptorov hooted. ‘There is no food.’

  Just then a small chicken clad in a suit of full body armour stepped into the laboratory. It was carrying a mite blaster.

  ‘Hello, Thaddeus,’ said Amy from underneath the helmet. ‘Remember me?’

  No no no no no! ‘Get out of the way!’ Thaddeus shouted to the owl. ‘It’s full of mites!’

  ‘Actually it’s full of genetically modified worms,’ Amy corrected him. ‘Ruth swapped them over.’ She pulled the trigger.

  The two villains were engulfed.

  Thaddeus screamed. The worms were in his whiskers. They were in his fur. They were down his neck and under his hat. One of them was even trying to eat his eyeballs.

  Raptorov was covered too. He danced from foot to foot, shaking his feathers.

  Amy gave a whistle. ‘Supper time!’ she shouted.

  Thaddeus peered through the fog of worms. To his horror the laboratory was filling up with granny raptors on zimmer frames, all grooving to the beat of ‘The Funky Chicken’. The meanest, ugliest one sniffed the air. Her eyes lit up.

  ‘WOOORRRMMMMMS!’ she shrilled.

  The villains found themselves engulfed for a second time. This time by granny raptors, pecking for food.

  ‘Do something, Raptorov!’ Thaddeus begged as a huge set of false raptor teeth came perilously close to chewing his whiskers.

  The eagle owl hunched over and spread his wings wide. ‘HVRECK! HVRECK! HVRECK!’ he screeched, shuffling forward.

  The granny raptors punched the air with their zimmer frames in delight.

  ‘SQUAWWWKKKKKKKK-KA-KA-KA-KA!’ they screeched back.

  ‘Not that, you stupid owl!’ Thaddeus shouted. ‘They think it’s a dance move! Do something else!’

  Back at the entrance of the laboratory, Ruth was preparing the homing device. The first part of Boo’s plan had worked perfectly, now it was time for the second part.

  ‘All you have to do is clip the homing device to Raptorov’s leg while he’s not looking,’ Ruth told Amy through the walkie-thinkie. ‘I’ve set the co-ordinates. Once it’s fixed in place you push the button and the missile technology will take him straight back to Russia. If you have any trouble with Thaddeus we’ll cover you with the mite blaster.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Amy, taking the pliers awkwardly in one wing and the homing device in the other. It was hard to hold onto them when you were wearing a suit of full body armour.

  ‘Watch out for Raptorov’s talons,’ Boo reminded her. ‘Good luck!’

  Amy advanced into the laboratory. She made her way round the edge of the cave towards the villains. The plan was to creep up on Raptorov from behind and fix the homing device to his leg before he realised what was happening. He was already disorientated by the loud disco music. Now all his attention was fixed on fighting off the frenzied granny raptors.

  The plan would work as long as Granny Wishbone and her cronies kept dancing and pecking.

  Amy bumped along under the workbench, keeping as close to the wall as she could. Through the throng of wrinkly granny raptors, she could see the owl’s long feathered legs next to a pair of red-coated trembling ones that belonged to Thaddeus. She pushed her way forwards into the melee, wings outstretched.

  Just then something happened. One by one the grannies stopped dancing. They lay on their backs with their legs in the air, snoring. Amy watched in horror. Their beaks were shrinking. And their raptor claws were turning back into chicken toes. The raptor DNA was wearing off! She had to act now or it would be too late.

  Amy darted forward. She looped the homing device around Raptorov’s leg and tightened it with the pliers. She reached for the button.

  But Raptorov had come to his senses. He lashed out with his other leg and kicked her away.

  Amy flew through the air. She landed painfully in a heap on Raptorov’s workbench. She sat up, dazed.

  There was silence in the cave. The CD had finished.

  ‘HVRECK! HVRECK! HVRECK!’ The angry owl advanced on Amy. ‘You think you can destroy me?’ he said. ‘Well you are wrong. My dino-birds will still rule the world. But you and your friends, you are finished.’

  ‘What do you mean, rule the world?’ Amy said. This was bigger than any of them – even Ruth – had thought.

  Raptorov let out a screech of laughter. ‘You thought this was it? Then more fool you – twit twoo. This is just the beginning. In time I shall create a super-species of dino-birds who will rule over the world like they did millions of years ago, with me as their leader.’ He blinked. ‘But first I shall tear you all to shreds for daring to challenge the greatest bird that ever lived.’

  ‘We’re not scared of you!’ Boo and Ruth flew over to the workbench and stood either side of Amy. Boo raised the mite blaster and fired.

  ‘A few mites aren’t going to stop the great Vladimir Alexei Raptorov!’ the owl hooted. He reached out his wing and tossed the mite blaster aside with a flick of his feathers. The gadget spun across the floor. ‘Now which one of you shall I devour first?’

  Amy looked around desperately for something to save them. They were out of weapons. Her little chicken brain thought frantically. Maybe she could throw a fossil at Raptorov and stun him while the others went for the button on the homing device? But there were no fossils on the part of the workbench where she had landed. Only a rack of test tubes. One of the labels caught her eye.

  T. REX DNA – HIGHLY DANGEROUS

  She blinked. T. rex DNA? Ruth had said chickens were related to the T. rex, which meant it couldn’t do that much harm. And it might be their only chance to escape. ‘Don’t worry,’ she told her friends. ‘I’ve got it covered.’ Before anyone could stop her she jumped to her feet, scuttled over to the test tube and downed the contents.

  ‘NOOOOOOOOOOOO!’ screeched Raptorov.

  Amy felt herself growing. Huge claws sprouted from her feet. Her legs felt strong and powerful. She even had a tail! Her head crashed against the ceiling of the cave. She was definitely more of a dinosaur than a bird, she decided. It must be in her blood, like Ruth said.

  She jumped off the workbench. Raptorov was tiny! He cowered beneath her, quivering with fear. Out of one eye she caught a glimpse of Thaddeus racing out of the laboratory, his tail between his legs.

  Amy let out a great roar.

  ‘RRRROOOOOAAAAAAARRRRRRR.’

  The owl covered his face with his wings.

  ‘Go, Boo, go!’ Ruth shouted through the walkie-thinkie. ‘Push the button.’

  Boo dropped down off the workbench. She ran between Amy’s huge feet to where Raptorov was standing and pushed the button on the homing device. The owl was lifted into the air.

  ‘HVRECK! HVRECK! HVRECK! HVRECK!’ Raptorov flapped his wings frantically but try as he might he couldn’t overcome the homing device. His cries faded as he shot out of the laboratory, back through the system of tunnels and away from Stormy Island in the direction of Russia.

  Amy let out a delighted giggle. The flock was safe. And she was surprised to find that she was already back to her original size. Luckily, the T. rex DNA had worn off quickly. It had been fun being a T. rex for a short time, she thought, but she was glad she wasn’t stuck like that forever. She liked being a chicken, especially a chicken warrior. Ev-o-lu-shun wasn’t such a bad thing after all, alth
ough she wished she’d grown a bigger brain, like Ruth.

  The three chickens removed the walkie-thinkies from their ears. They threw themselves on their backs next to the grannies, their legs in the air.

  ‘Phew!’ said Ruth, ‘that was close!’

  ‘Very,’ agreed Boo, ‘I thought for a minute we might not make it.’

  ‘It was kind of fun, though, you’ve got to admit,’ said Amy. She felt sure that Professor Rooster would be proud of them (although he might not be happy that she’d turned into a dinosaur!). She let out a contented sigh. ‘Chicken mission accomplished,’ she said.

  Two days later …

  The park keeper drove along the coast road towards Stormy Cliff Caravan Park. She was in a good mood. It was Sunday; she’d had a lie-in and read the morning paper. Now she just had time to check on the chicken flock before lunch. She’d been invited for roast beef with her daughter and the grandkids down at their house in the town and she didn’t want to be late.

  She passed the derelict farmhouse. A fox was walking along the wall. It seemed to be having trouble balancing. Then the park keeper realised – the poor thing didn’t have a tail! There were quite a lot of foxes around these parts, she’d noticed, especially at the farmhouse. And all of them seemed to either be a bit crock or a bit timid. Not at all like the ones in town that her daughter was always complaining about. They were as bold as brass. She smiled to herself. Perhaps the foxes at the farm were there to get away from it all. Perhaps they liked the peace and quiet of Stormy Cliff. She chuckled. Perhaps it was a sort of foxy convalescent home for distressed foxes! Ha-ha-ha!

  She switched on the radio.

  ‘In breaking news, scientists in Russia report that Vladimir the Eagle Owl has returned to their laboratory,’ the newscaster said. ‘The genetically modified owl went missing several weeks ago and was thought to have disappeared for good. However, he apparently found his way back to the laboratory with the help of a sophisticated homing device strapped to his leg. Scientists have appealed for more information …