Rampage! (9 page)

XI

L
OVE AND
R
OAMIN'
A
NTS

Oh dear.

I'm not really sure how to start this next chapter, what with everything being so dreadful already. In fact, maybe it'd be better if you just put this book down and switched on the television instead.

What's that?

You still want to know?

All right, then. But don't say I didn't warn you and do try to remember that even though they killed the messengers in ancient times when they brought bad news, it is absolutely not the same for storytellers.

You see, as Alex and Aries huddled together, hot and miserable in the dust, Jason was relaxing on a bar stool.

That's right.

Relaxing.

Oh, he'd heard those seven bells ringing too, but now, taking another sip of his mango fruit cocktail, they'd only made him wonder why Estella, the beautiful woman he'd met in the opera house that afternoon, was a little late for their date. Around him, the bar began throbbing with hot samba music played by four men wearing shiny
green blazers and big grins in the corner. Jason smiled broadly too, tapping his toe in time with the beat and toasting his reflection in the mirrored wall behind the bar, lined with shelves of bottles.

Manaus, he decided, was definitely his sort of city.

He chuckled, amused by the memory of what had been a freezing shock that morning when Athena had demanded he return to Earth to sort out Medea. That alone would have been enough to send anyone's spirits diving like a sea turtle sucked into the whirlpool of Charybdis's maw, long before the goddess had breezily added that he'd be travelling with Zoo Boy and Baldy.

Of course, that was the one drawback of being such a celebrated Greek hero: the fact that your reputation was only as good as your last quest. Like a shield, fame needed buffing to a fresh gleam whenever you were called upon to help, meaning that when the Goddess of Wisdom and War told you to do something, you did it. Whether or not you wanted to do what she'd asked. Which, frankly, he did not.

Which was why he was so delighted that now he wouldn't have to bother.

That's right.

You heard me.

Surprised?

Perhaps that's because like everybody in the Underworld (apart from Aries, of course) you thought that that he'd be bristling with impatience at the promise of a new quest? After the flamboyant way he'd bid the
goddesses goodbye and raced on ahead, you thought he was desperate to swash and buckle through the jungle? Twitching to slap that statue of Nemesis into Medea's icy little hand and dispatch the sorceress straight to Tartarus?

Well, I'm afraid not. Because the last time he'd seen his ex-wife, she'd been glowering at him from behind the helm of a chariot drawn across the sky by snorting dragons. Looking down as she'd risen into the clouds, she'd flung furious curses at him for betraying her, screeching like a tormented seagull as their palace at Iolkos burned to the ground behind him. Which, however you look at it, is hardly your ‘pop-round-and-see-me-next-time-you're-in-town' sort of toodle-pip, is it?

In fact, it was the fear of her scorching hatred that had persuaded Jason to take every single gift the goddesses had brought him that morning. Supernatural, bizarre or downright pointless, he'd been more than willing to accept every one of them and pile them on to Aries' back. He remembered the baffled look on Alex's face, clearly puzzled as to why they'd need to carry quite so much, and worried, no doubt, about overloading that ridiculous blimp of mutton. He smirked. Now he wouldn't need a single thing: no thunderbolt, no arrows, no singing lyre. Not since Estella had told him that the police would keep Aries and Alex locked up for days on end, leaving him plenty of time for some fun before returning to the Underworld.

(Without them.)

There, I've said it.

Please note that I did try to break it to you gently. I mean, don't you think putting it in brackets made it a little less shocking? You don't? Well, I'm sorry.

Unlike Jason, who wasn't remotely sorry about any of it. No, he was already planning the story he'd tell the Underworld and imagining the delighted look on Aphrodite's face when he stumbled, scratched and bruised, into her birthday party. With his clothes torn and his hair stylishly messy, he'd make a great entrance, breathlessly explaining to her and all of her guests how Alex and Aries had deserted him, running away at the last minute, leaving him to face the sorceress alone. The goddesses would gasp, find him a seat, a drink, a plate of peacock steak, a clump of grapes, as they listened in horror, pale-faced and tut-tutting, appalled at how their hero had been betrayed. Whilst he would simply shake his head in anguish, frustrated that he'd been unable to hand the statue of Nemesis to Medea, because those two had scarpered with it.

Now, chuckling quietly to himself, he tapped the key to the Underworld, tucked safely in his back pocket, and turned to watch the couples step out onto the dance floor. Shimmying and sashaying to the rising music, their laughter mingled with the frenzied trumpets as his mind continued to run on, delighted that he would finally be rid of Aries. Even though no one ever listened to the raging ruminant's version of events – thank the gods
– he'd still be glad to be rid of his endless bleating. Then, for a moment he thought about Alex. Perhaps it
was
a pity about him, though. Feeling a small twinge of remorse, he recalled the stories he'd heard about the boy. If they were true, then Alex did seem truly bold for his years, because even Jason had to admit that leading a flock of sheep across a strange city to defeat the sorceress was pretty impressive for a boy who usually spent his days wiping the snouts of drippy old monsters. Maybe there was even something quaintly daring about his search for some silly little Earth girl? He shrugged. Not that any of that mattered now. Besides, Jason reflected, wasn't it Alex's own fault that he'd never be going home again? After all, choosing Aries for a best friend hardly made him one of history's winners.

And anyway, he certainly wasn't about to spoil his evening worrying about those two. Not when he'd just spotted Estella stepping in though the door. He waved to her as she picked her way through the dancers to join him. She was dressed in a red top and white trousers, with a red flower tucked into her long dark hair, and he smiled, noticing that she was even prettier than he remembered.

Of course, what he should have noticed was the rather large ant that had just fallen from the hem of her trouser leg, turned and scuttled after her, weaving behind her red-sandaled foot as she strode across the flashing dance floor. Or the one that now plopped down behind it, or the next …

Three … four … five …

       Eight … nine … ten …

                   Thirteen … fourteen … fifteen …

all snapping their huge chompers
25
in a funky ant-conga across the floor.

And in case you're thinking, don't be so silly, ants are far too diddly-widdly to notice, let me tell you that these were Amazon army ants. Unlike the tiddlers you see in the park, you know, ant-sized ants no bigger than
these were magnificent specimens, big enough to blot out whole words, like this
Such gi-ants were rarely seen anywhere but the rainforest floor and never ever in city bars unless, say, some sorceress had been using an old gold bangle recently.

But of course Jason didn't see them because he was far too busy beaming as Estella leaped up on to the bar stool beside him and planted a kiss on his cheek.

‘You like to samba?' she chirruped.

Jason shrugged uncertainly.

‘Come on!' She nodded towards the dance floor and pulled him to his feet. ‘I teach you!'

Taking his right hand, she led him out between the swaying couples and wrapped her arms around his neck. Then, wiggling her hips, she began stepping forwards and backwards. Jason laughed, copying her steps. The
dance was fast and intricate. The trumpets jangled in his ears.

Which was when he felt something drop down the back of his neck.

He flinched and carried on dancing as a second tickle, this one beneath his right ear, began to annoy him. He batted it away quickly, feeling something stick to his fingers. Looking down, he was disgusted to see a gooey, leggy mess on his palm and wiped it quickly on his jeans before smiling brightly and taking Estella's hand. Spinning her under his raised arm, he hardly noticed the squirmy feel of her fingers at first.

At least not until the first needle-sharp jab of pain on his wrist.

And the next.

Glancing up at his hand, he felt his blood freeze in his veins. ‘What on ––?'

Ants.

Thousands of them.

Swarming through his fingers and tumbling in a treacly waterfall over his wrist. Whippy-legged as spiders, squirming from a ghastly brown mass that now seethed around Estella's hand, enveloping it like a living glove before storming up his bare arm towards his shoulder.

‘Estella!' he shrieked, turning back to face her.

Except it wasn't her any more.

A human-shaped column of ants stood in her place. They scrambled in a mask over her forehead, tearing the red flower in her hair to shreds. They dripped from the
tip of what had been her nose. Streaming over her neck and shoulders, they dribbled into thick swinging pendants of scuttling bodies that crumbled and dropped in clumps to explode and scatter around the heels of her shoes.

Jason felt a scream die in his throat as the phantom of roiling brown and black now gracefully lifted its other writhing arm and clamped it firmly on to his opposite shoulder. Immediately the ants moved as one, their wriggly platoons skittering up the twin bridges of her arms to pour over his body. Snapping and biting, they cascaded down his chest, his back and legs, enfolding him like a living mummy case, one lined with tiny fangs that sent bolts of pain searing across his skin.

Behind him, he was dimly aware of the band screeching to a stop as people fled past him, screaming and shouting, scattering tables and chairs in their wake as they swerved away from his flailing arms and the ants that rained down in a glistening shower on to the floor. Desperately scooping handfuls of insects from his face, Jason saw the swarm abruptly turn towards the door and charge towards it. A single glint flashed from the legion of their scrabbling bodies, the glimmer of the Underworld key as it was jostled along on their backs, the little parrot bouncing merrily, as they carried it like a trophy, out into the street.

‘No!'

Roaring, he leaped blindly after them. But the ants were faster. Surging like a black tide, they turned sharply and poured down a storm drain. Taking the key with them.

For a split second Jason blinked after them, his body throbbing with bites, unable to believe what had happened. In agony, he lumbered towards the fountain and, heaving himself in, sank gratefully into its cool water. A few blissful moments later, he stood up again, dazed and dripping. Even in the moonlight the swellings were red and furious and, gingerly touching his face, he squealed, feeling his handsome features as crumpled as a fallen peach.