The Quest of the Warrior Sheep (7 page)

The Baaton's goin' home

To the Golden Horn Dude,

Got a message for the Lambad

But you'll think it's kinda rude –'

‘Drink, sir?' Sarah was holding a plastic bucket full of iced water in front of Links. He lapped it gratefully.
Then she gave each of the sheep a lettuce from one of the cargo boxes. And an apple.

‘Yum. We should have done this flying thing before,' said Oxo enthusiastically.

In the yellow sports car, Luke was enjoying himself rather less. Neil's phone tracker mate had rung again to confirm that things would most certainly not be done and dusted by tea time. The missing mobile was now cruising somewhere above the Midlands.

Neil glanced at Luke. ‘Did you pack your toothbrush?' he asked.

‘No.'

‘Tough.'

‘Neil,' said Luke, ‘a car cannot chase an aeroplane.'

‘Wanna bet?'

The g-force kicked in again and they streaked away, not so much like a rocket this time, but like a sheep-seeking missile.

On the other side of London, things had just got worse for Tod and Ida.

The pedals on Ida's trike had suddenly spun
madly and she'd coasted to a full stop. Her chain had snapped.

‘Never mind, Gran,' said Tod. ‘I can give you a tow.'

Gran was tired but she smiled back. ‘A whole foot would be better.'

Tod grinned at her brave joke and started tying some cord on to Gran's handlebars.

As he tied the first knot, a car passed by, then reversed and came silently to a halt beside them. It was a very large, swish car. A smartly dressed lady got out and smiled kindly.

‘Can I help?' she asked.

‘I doubt it, thanks,' said Tod. ‘The chain's gone.'

‘Oh dear,' said the lady. She frowned at them both then said, ‘Didn't I see you on television at Boyd's Bank earlier? Weren't you being interviewed?'

‘Yes,' said Tod. ‘Gran told Organic TV about our sheep.'

‘Yes, of course! The sheep. How terribly upsetting.' The lady looked with concern at Ida, who had sat down wearily at the roadside. ‘Have you got far to go?'

‘Eppingham,' said Tod.

‘But that's miles away.'

‘We'll be all right,' said Tod, tying the cord to the back of his trike. ‘Gran's no weight. I'll pull her along.'

The lady hesitated a moment.

‘Look, why don't you come home with me for a rest? You can even stay the night, if you like. I've got plenty of room. Don't worry about your trikes,' she added. ‘I'll call someone to collect them right now.'

Tod didn't know what to say but Gran drew a deep breath and stood up again.

‘That's very kind of you indeed,' she said, taking charge. ‘And we don't have to be back to feed the sheep. Not now they've been abducted by aliens. We might as well rest for a bit and work out what to do next.'

‘Excellent,' said the lady. She nodded firmly. ‘My name's Caroline, by the way. Lady Caroline Babcott.' She made a swift phone call and within minutes a van arrived and two men carefully loaded the trikes on to it. Then Lady Babcott held the car door open and Tod and Gran stepped inside.

‘It's as comfy as your bed,' Tod whispered to Gran.

‘And almost as big,' Gran whispered back, as
Lady Babcott started the quiet engine and the car moved smoothly away.

The sheep were still enjoying the high life, taking turns to peer out of the aircraft's small windows at the carpet of countryside unrolling beneath them. Then they heard Nikki's voice over the loudspeaker. She was talking to someone at the Eatwell Hotel, Flight Zero One's destination.

‘ETA three minutes,' she said. ‘No customers today, just catering supplies.'

Wills stiffened slightly. What were catering supplies? Was that just another name for lettuce? He hoped so.

The plane lurched slightly as the wheels hit the ground. It bounced along for a few moments, then swung round and taxied back towards the large grey-and-white building the sheep had glimpsed as the plane had circled down.

‘Welcome to the Eatwell Hotel.' Sarah was beaming at them. ‘Thank you for flying with us this morning. Please remain in your seats until the butcher arrives – I mean until the aircraft has stopped moving.'

Sarah put down the steps and Nikki came through
from the cockpit and climbed out first.

‘See you at dinner time,' she called as she hurried away.

Sarah smiled and nodded politely at each of the sheep in turn as they too left the aircraft. ‘Follow me,' she said and headed towards the hotel.

‘Well, how pleasant,' said Sal, as they trotted along behind. ‘And now we're in Yorkshire. Remind me where that is exactly, Wills.'

‘Quite a long way in the right direction,' said Wills, not paying full attention.

A door at the back of the hotel was open and inside it he could see men and women in white jackets and hats. The word catering came back into his head. Catering happened in kitchens. He heard the unmistakable sound of knives being sharpened. Catering plus knives, plus butchers, plus sheep could mean only one thing.

‘Chops!' he cried.

The other Rare Breeds stopped dead. Chops was the only word they feared more than Dog.

A man in a white jacket and tall hat came out of the kitchen, knife in hand.

‘Run!' yelled Oxo.

He charged across the hotel flowerbeds towards the nearest neatly trimmed hedge and ploughed straight through it, leaving a ram-shaped hole for the others.

‘Hey, where d'you think you're going?' yelled the chef.

He ran a few steps after them then stopped. He was far too important to go chasing animals.

‘Roast lamb's off,' he called to one of his assistants. ‘We're doing nut cutlets instead.'

The Warriors kept running until they were well away from the hotel and then slowed to a walk.

‘Sorry,' said Wills, ‘I should have remembered what catering was a bit sooner.'

‘Relax, man,' said Links. ‘We's not chops, innit. We's still fresh on the hoof . . .'

‘Ohmygrass, stop talking about it,' bleated Jaycey as she hurried on.

‘Yeah,' said Oxo with a grin. ‘Chop chop.'

The path they found themselves on led down into a valley, and along the bottom of the valley ran two metal lines. Wills stopped for a moment.

‘That's a railway,' he pointed out. ‘Maybe we could get a train from here.'

But before he could explain about railways and trains, he heard a rattling noise behind him and a shout which became a frightened wail. They all turned and saw a boy on a mountain bike careering down the path towards them. For a moment, they thought it was Tod, but it wasn't.

‘No brakes!' cried the boy, half in warning, half in terror.

The sheep scattered as the bike sped on down and hit the railway fence, catapulting its rider on to the track beyond. He landed heavily and lay still.

The Warriors raced down after him.

‘Ohmygrass . . .' Jaycey stared through the wire at the crumpled human. ‘Ohmygrass . . .'

Oxo finished the job that the bike had started on the fence, muscling his way between the broken, rusty strands. The other sheep joined him. They each gave the motionless boy a comforting lick but he didn't stir.

Then Wills' sensitive hooves began to tingle ever so slightly. The metal rail on which he was standing had started to vibrate. He tried to stay calm.

‘Uh, guys, I think we should try to move him. There's a train coming.'

‘Ohmygrass, ohmygrass.' squealed Jaycey. ‘Train train train!'

She didn't really know what a train was but there was no doubting the urgency in Wills' voice. They all tried hard to roll the boy to safety. But no matter how they struggled, pushing their noses underneath him and lifting on the count of three, they couldn't get him over the raised metal line.

The Warriors could all feel the vibration now. Wills looked desperately around. On the other side of the track was a small, sloping meadow. And halfway up the steep slope was a wagon piled with hay bales.

‘Jaycey, keep licking him,' said Wills. ‘Everyone else, come with me!'

There was only a straggly hedge on the other side of the track. They pushed through easily and galloped up to the wagon. Wills stood behind it and lowered his head. ‘Butt!' he cried. ‘Butt like the Ram of Rams himself!'

The four Warriors lowered their heads and charged the wagon, crashing into it head on. They tried again and again. Finally, as a distant noise became a clearly
approaching train, the wheels of the wagon began to turn.

‘Keep pushing!' gasped Wills.

The wagon creaked and moved a little. It moved a little more, then gathered pace until the sheep could no longer keep up with it. Then it trundled down the slope like a runaway juggernaut. They watched, breathless, as it smashed into the straggly hedge and its load of hay bales tumbled across the railway line, bursting as they bounced.

The train driver would never have seen the small boy. But he couldn't fail to see the mountain of hay. He applied the brakes full on. The train screeched and crackled, then came to a halt inside the soft, yellow mountain.

On the hillside above, the four Warriors let out a bleating cheer. Jaycey came bounding up to join them.

‘The boy's awake,' she called. ‘He smiled at me.'

It was a moment for high hooves all round.

In the security control room of the Eatwell Hotel, the man on duty was staring goggle-eyed at his CCTV
screen. One of the hotel's cameras faced the railway. The man stumbled from the room and grabbed the first person he met.

‘Those sheep we're not having for dinner. They just stopped a train. On purpose!'

T
here was rather good grazing on the sloping meadow and the sheep took the opportunity to have a quick snack.

While they munched, they watched dozens of humans get out of the stationary train and dozens more run down the path from the hotel. The emergency services arrived soon afterwards, even though, thanks to the Rare Breed Warriors, the emergency was over. The boy was on his feet now, surrounded by the excited humans, some of whom looked up at the meadow, saw the sheep and started climbing through the fence towards them.

Wills wasn't sure if this was a good thing or not. The word catering came back into his head. Then Chops.

‘Shall we go?' he suggested.

‘Right on, dear,' agreed Sal. ‘Let's get questing. Uh, which way is the North again?'

‘Away from the humans,' said Wills. But it was a guess.

The sheep disappeared rapidly over the hilltop, completely unaware that they were suddenly big news.

Almost the entire nation saw them on television that very night. There was the CCTV footage from the hotel. There were interviews with the rescued boy and the train driver. There was a panel of animal experts who earnestly agreed that a Quantum Leap in Ovine Evolution had taken place.

Organic TV's Nisha Patel, who'd been flown north especially to cover the story, frowned at the long words.

‘You mean they're sheep like sheep have never been before?'

The experts nodded.

‘Exactly.'

‘Super strong.'

‘Super intelligent.'

‘Bionic, thinking, super sheep.'

In his sitting room at Hogweed Farm, Tony Catchpole couldn't help shouting at his television set.

‘You're not asking
why!
' he yelled at the experts. ‘You're not asking
how!'

Because Tony knew very well. He recognised the sheep and to him it was obvious: they'd been modified by the aliens who'd abducted them.

Nisha Patel's face reappeared on the screen and Tony tried not to blush. He wondered if she still had his daffodil. He tried to concentrate. He desperately wanted to find those alienified sheep. Almost as much as he wanted to see Nisha again. He glanced at his watch and then rushed to catch the train.

Tod and Ida were also watching the news. It was like being in a cinema, Lady Babcott's TV set was so big. Her whole house was huge. She had given them lunch, then supper, and then arranged to have Gran's trike fixed for the next day. It seemed sensible to accept her kind offer and stay the night.

Lady Babcott was watching television with them. She noticed Tod grasp his grandmother's hand when they saw the CCTV pictures of the sheep.

‘Are those yours?' she asked in astonishment.

Tod and Ida both nodded. Then Tod recovered and grinned.

‘See, Gran,' he said. ‘They haven't been abducted by aliens after all.'

‘It doesn't look like it,' said Gran, peering through her specs. ‘But what's that thing hanging round Jaycey's neck?'

Tod peered too and shrugged. ‘No idea,' he said. ‘And how have they got all the way to Yorkshire?'

It was Gran's turn to shrug. ‘Maybe the aliens dropped them off there when they'd finished with them?'

Tod gave her a little nudge. ‘You're getting as bad as Tony Catchpole, Gran.' Then his face became more serious. ‘I think we should tell the police,' he said. ‘They'll help us get them back.'

‘Of course,' agreed Lady Babcott. She waved her hand and her butler carried the phone across to her.

‘Here you are, my dear,' she said, offering it to Gran. Then she suddenly stopped and took it back again. ‘Wait! I've got a better idea. The police will be so terribly busy with the bank fraud, they might not have
time for your sheep. Why don't
we
get them back?'

‘How?' asked Tod.

Lady Babcott smiled. ‘I'll cancel all my meetings tomorrow and take you up to Yorkshire myself.'

Just about the only people who didn't see the news were Neil and Luke. All they knew was that the signal from the missing phone had been tracked to Yorkshire. So they were hammering up the motorway in the yellow sports car.