The Warrior Sheep Go West (8 page)

The Silver Cage

In the lobby behind the Boombergs, the hotel manager was working to restore order.

“Close the doors,” he commanded into his walkie-talkie radio. “I want this mess contained!”

Somewhere in a central control department, a button was pressed and all the lobby doors slid silently shut. Holly Boomberg's head banged against the toughened glass with a clunk. Standing at her shoulder, Stanley rather hoped it hurt. He glanced at his wrist computer.

“Honey,” he said urgently, trying to show her his wrist. “Look at the countdown! These English sheep are way
too
clever. How about we just grab ourselves a couple from the thirty-fifth floor and make do with them?”

Holly pressed her face angrily against the closed door and hammered with her fists in frustration.

“No!” she said. “Your great experiment demands the best. These are the best and these you shall have whether you like it or not!”

On the other side, the warriors blinked at Holly and then turned to peer down the stairwell. The manager's calm voice was now radio broadcasting above the chaos.

“Ladies and gentlemen. On behalf of Hotel English Meadows, I would like to apologize for this little, uh, technical difficulty. For your own comfort and safety, the lobby will be closed until further notice. Why not visit our famous basement theatre, where our fabulous Small Hours Show is about to begin?”

Holly turned and grabbed the manager's arm.

“I don't want to visit the theatre,” she snarled. “Open this door!”

The manager shook her off as politely as he could.

“That's not a public route, madam. If you don't like the theatre, how about a football game? Red Tongue are playing late at the stadium just a few blocks away. Our public doors will be reopened very shortly.”

He gave her a tight little smile and stalked off, clicking his fingers at staff, left and right.

The sheep had dithered at the top of the spiral staircase until Wills had said, “Stairs or Staple Gun Woman?”

“No contest,” said Links. “The stairs. Man, they're not even moving.”

Remembering that they'd once ridden on a moving escalator, the warriors suddenly felt less afraid. Oxo pushed his way to the front.

“Why are we waiting?” he grunted.

“Backward! Go backward!” shouted Wills but it was too late.

Oxo's front hooves went down one steep step but there was no room on it for his back hooves. He toppled sideways and started to bounce. Round and round, spiraling down to the bottom.

“Cool move,” laughed Links, then he flopped on his side and pushed off with his hooves. “Let's rumble tumble.” And down he went.

Sal followed next and finally Wills.

“Shall we do it again?” asked Oxo as they picked themselves up, but Wills was already looking around. They were now in a corridor.

It was narrow, bare, and rather dark, but at the far end was a green lit sign.

“Stage Door,” Wills read aloud.

“What's one of them?” asked Oxo.

Wills shrugged. He didn't know.

“Doors is good, right,” said Links. “It might have Jaycey behind it.”

So they continued along the corridor, around another corner, and up a short flight of steps. There was more light here, more space, and several doors. Also, the end of a high red curtain. And a noise. Human voices. Lots of them, beyond the curtain. They were chattering eagerly, excited, as if waiting for something.

Wills poked his nose around the edge of the curtain. He could see a dark hall, packed with people. A sudden loud voice boomed in the darkness, making Wills and the other sheep jump.

“Ladies and gentlemen…We invite you to sit back, relax, and prepare to be amazed. Will you welcome please, the great, the unique, the most beautifully dressed magician in Las Vegas: Madam Gloria Fantutti!”

The great curtain swished aside and Wills had to dodge backward so as not to be seen. He and the rest of the warriors were dazzled as the space where the curtain had been was lit up by a pool of brilliant white light.

A woman was standing in the pool of light, a woman wearing a lot of jewelry and a blue dress. She spread her arms and beamed at her audience until everyone had finished clapping and cheering.

“Ladies and gentlemen…” she purred into a microphone. “Tonight, I do indeed intend to amaze you. Tonight you will see magic you have never seen before…”

She looked upward, and a spotlight followed her gaze to where something was dangling from the ceiling. It was a silver cage, covered with a sparkly blue cloth.

There was a drum roll from the orchestra, seated somewhere beyond the spotlights, and the silver cage was lowered toward Madam Fantutti, turning slowly as it came.

“Tonight,” she announced, “before your very eyes I shall saw in half…not a beautiful girl—you have seen that before. No, I shall do something much more difficult. Something no one else has ever attempted.”

She reached up and whipped the cloth from the cage. The audience gasped and so did the warriors. Because inside, trembling with fright, her fleece powdered with silver glitter, and with a blue bow around her neck, stood Jaycey.

“Tonight, I shall saw in half…a sheep!”

Rap Stars

Madam Fantutti produced a huge silver sword and stabbed it into the stage, where it stood quivering. Inside her cage, Jaycey quivered too.

“Keep still, you little fleabag,” murmured Madam Fantutti out of the corner of her mouth.

A small silver box was wheeled onto the stage. From it, Madam Fantutti took a large cabbage, which she hurled into the air. As it fell, she pulled the sword from the stage and sliced the cabbage neatly in two. The audience gasped. The watching warriors gulped.

Two stagehands standing close to the sheep gulped too. They were dressed in black jeans and black sweaters and it was their job to carry the performers' equipment on and off stage between acts.

“Man, I don't think I can watch this,” whispered one of the stagehands.

“Nor me,” whispered her colleague. “She's crazy. I mean, slicing veg is one thing…”

“But what are we going to do?” asked the woman. “Watch her chop that animal up like a turnip?”

“It was a cabbage.”

“That's so not funny.”

The woman looked down at the sheep watching tensely beside her. Maybe they were next.

Another drum roll drew all eyes back to the stage. Madam Fantutti had turned her attention to the silver box on wheels, tipping it toward her audience and opening the lid.

“As you can see…” she said, “…the box is completely empty. And has just room enough for one small sheep…”

At that moment, the silver cage dropped lower and Madam Fantutti flipped open its door. A second later, she was holding Jaycey aloft.

“She's perfectly real, as you can see,” she told her audience.

She shoved Jaycey into the silver box and squashed her down, so that she was lying on her stomach with her head and front hooves sticking out of holes in the front of the box and her back hooves sticking out of holes at the back.

“No escape, muttonhead,” sneered Madam Fantutti quietly as she closed the lid. “It's wriggle-proof.”

She looked up and beamed at the audience, then spun the box on its wheels and seized the sword again.

“What are we waiting for?” growled Oxo but Wills hurriedly stopped him as he made to charge on stage.

“She'll kill you too,” he whispered sharply.

The stagehands were staring at Madam Fantutti. “We have to do
something
…” the woman said.

“Not while she's holding that sword, I'm not,” murmured the man.

Wills suddenly felt someone else arrive beside them. It was the hotel manager.

“Get on there and stop her,” he hissed at the stagehands. “Get her away from that animal! Get her off stage. And make it look like part of the act.”

He turned his back and put his head in his hands. He knew Madam Fantutti. He was asking the impossible. She was a great magician sometimes. Crazy always. Especially with a sword.

Another drum roll. The stagehands were rooted to the spot, shaking with fear. Wills turned urgently to the warriors.

“It's down to us,” he whispered. “We've got to get her away from Jaycey, and without her killing anyone else. We've got to distract her…confuse her…” He drew a quick breath. “Links, get out there and sing.”

“And now…” Madam Fantutti cried dramatically, holding the sword aloft.

But instead of hearing gasps of frightened anticipation from the audience, she heard giggles. She paused, the sword still in both hands, raised above her head. Glancing sideways, she saw four more sheep galloping onto the stage. They skidded to a halt beside her. The one in front was nodding its curly head and tapping a front hoof. Then it started to bleat in a rhythmic sort of way. The ones behind seemed to be trying to copy it.

“Security!” shrieked Madam Fantutti. “Get these wool bags out of my act!”

But as she shrieked, Links started to rap.

“Hey, Jaycey girl, though you's pretty in blue,

We want you to know that we love you too.

All that glitter on your fleece might get you dates,

But what about your friends, your Eppingham mates?”

“Fleeced up, fleeced up, fleeced up, fleeced up…” sang the sheep behind him, hoping it was a cool counter-rhythm. Links nodded approval.

The sword was too heavy to hold above her head any longer and Madam Fantutti let it drop to her side. The stagehands had stopped shaking and nipped on stage behind her. They grabbed the silver box and shoved it hard, sending it spinning away.

“We's here on a mission, as you well know,

An' we reckon there's still a long way to go,

Red Tongue's out there where the sun is hot,

An' he's an evil dude or have you forgot?”

“Fleeced up, fleeced up, fleeced up, fleeced up…”

The audience didn't understand a word, but they were loving every second. They began to tap their feet and clap along. The silver box on wheels, hurtling round the stage pursued by the stagehands and the sword-wielding magician, only added to the fun.

“We need you, Jaycey, we need you real bad,

An' if you ever leave, we's gonna be sad,

So listen up, Jaycey, won't you hear my plea?

Stay with your friends, where we want you to be.”

“Fleeced up, fleeced up, fleeced up, fleeced up…”

The audience was going wild now, on their feet, stamping and clapping.

“More!” they yelled. “More!”

Oxo instantly saw his opportunity and darted from the chorus line. His hard head crashed into Madam Fantutti as she blundered past in pursuit of the box and the stagehands. Her feet slipped from under her, and the sword flew from her hand and slid across the stage. The manager dashed on and grabbed it, while the audience roared their approval and the stagehands picked up Madam Fantutti and carried her off between them, still trying to make it look as if it were all part of the performance.

Oxo charged again, this time at the silver box. It toppled over and Jaycey scrambled out.

“Ohmygrass…ohmygrass…ohmythankyouthankyouthankyou…” she sobbed as she skittered across to join the others, who were still singing.

“We's rare breed sheep and we's warriors too,

An' while we's together, we's got work to do.

'Cause we's one for all, an' we's all for one,

So good night, folks, my rappin's all done!”

“More!” yelled the audience. “More!”

“Curtain call?” Links asked hopefully.

But it was time to go. Oxo gave him a gentle butt and with a little bow he ran off the stage behind the others. They fled down the nearest corridor, then the one next to that, turning corners, never looking back. At last, up ahead, Wills saw the words “Fire Exit.” As far as he was aware, they weren't on fire, but he knew what an exit was. He reared on his hind legs and banged his front hooves on the metal bar. The doors opened and the sheep tumbled out into soft, hot outdoor air at the back of the hotel.

They stood in a huddle, recovering their breath. Behind them, in the depths of the basement, they could hear the audience—their audience—still clapping and cheering.

“Ohmygrass…ohmygrass…” burbled Jaycey, “I'm sooo…sorry…”

They all gave her a comforting lick and tugged off her blue bow.

“Fleeced up, fleeced up, fleeced up, fleeced up…” gasped Sal.

“Fleeced up and ready to go,” declared Oxo.

And the reunited warriors raised and clacked high hooves all round.

The Bouncing Burger Roadhouse

The Boombergs were twitching, trapped in the lobby, waiting for the doors to be opened. An army of cleaners was working hard, but the place was still a mess. Holly Boomberg didn't do mess. And she didn't do defeat. She kicked aside a soggy sandwich.

“Stanley,” she said sharply, “we need a change of plan.”

“Forget the English sheep?” the Professor dared to suggest. “Get some others?”

“No way! These ones are still perfect for the job.”

“But, honey,” Stanley tried again to show her his wrist computer. “See this message? The team is waiting for the animals
now
. Everything else is checked and ready.”

“Let them wait,” snapped Holly. “I will not be beaten by a bunch of ovines.” She paused for a moment, thinking. “Anyway,
these
ones are already kitted up, remember? Do you have more sensors?”

“Well…”

“No, you don't. And the sensors are vital. So that's that!” She ground another sandwich to a squelching pulp beneath her foot. “You must activate the camera.”

The Professor looked at her, startled. “The camera?”

“Yes, dear, you know: pictures. Pictures of things. Locations.
Sheep
.”

“But it's not programmed to come on stream yet…it might burn out and the whole project—”

“If you don't activate it
now
, there won't be any project!”

Stanley sighed and, as he did so, the main reception lobby doors slid open. The hunt was on again.

***

The warriors were trotting through downtown Las Vegas when Oxo became aware of a faint whirring in his ear. Eventually, he realized that it was something to do with the gold stud, which was suddenly warm and a bit itchy. He tried to ignore it and not make a fuss.

“Where are we going?” asked Jaycey in a subdued voice.

She was still feeling very ashamed of herself.

“Lookin' for Red Tongue, remember,” said Links, not unkindly.

Wills suddenly stopped walking. “I think he's already gone.”

“What?” cried Oxo. “Not again!”

Wills nodded. He was looking at a huge red neon sign which had just started flashing on a building ahead of them.

“It says, ‘Red Tongue does it again,'” he said.

“
More
slaughtering?” asked Oxo.

“I suppose so,” said Wills.

The next lot of words flashed up and he read them aloud.

“Good-bye, Las Vegas. Next stop: Aries End.”

Sal, who was a little behind the others, flopped to the pavement. Heat, exhaustion, and being up so late had suddenly got the better of her.

“It's no good, dears,” she breathed, tears filling her eyes. “You may have to go on without me…”

“No way,” said Oxo. “One for all and all for—” He looked at Sal, then froze. “All for run!” he yelled.

The others looked up and saw what he had seen. Staple Gun Woman was creeping toward them again. Her man was carrying the rope. Oxo butted Sal to her feet and they all galloped off round the nearest corner.

“Man,” panted Links, “that lady don't never give up…”

It wasn't easy for Professor Boomberg to run round corners and look at his wrist computer at the same time, especially with his wife dragging him along.

“Where are they now, dear?” she demanded. “Where are they now?”

“Just went past a car,” puffed the Professor.

This wasn't very helpful in a town with more cars than people. Holly stopped abruptly. She grabbed her husband's wrist and peered at the computer. On its screen was a moving picture, like a tiny CCTV monitor. She saw cars and sidewalk, then the back of a sheep, then, briefly, a street sign.

“They've turned down Rhinestone Boulevard!” she cried.

The sheep were still galloping.

“We've lost them!” shouted Oxo. “Oops. No we haven't!”

The Boombergs had appeared in front of them. The warriors back-pedaled and skidded down an alleyway. But no matter how they zigzagged, twisted, and turned, Staple Gun Woman always seemed to know where they were. And Sal was really struggling, her breaths coming in short gasps, her sides heaving even more than in the desert.

“She's runnin' on empty, man…” Links warned.

The warriors were in a huge parking lot now, outside a tall circular building with big lights shining above it. There were rows of buses. One of them had a red trailer attached. It had double doors at the back and the doors were open. Wills dived in.

“Here! In here!” he gasped.

The other sheep jumped in behind him, Oxo and Links pushing Sal with their heads. Wills pulled the doors shut with his teeth.

“Not a sound!” he whispered in the darkness.

The warriors stood as silently as they could with their hearts hammering. Soon they heard running footsteps. The footsteps slowed and came to a halt right outside the trailer.

Stanley leaned on the trailer for support, his legs wobbling under him. He didn't do running.

“Where have they gone?” snapped his wife.

Stanley held up his wrist to show her the blank screen.

“Cameras don't work too well in the dark,” he puffed, before she could complain.

His patience was running out as fast as his breath. There had to be easier ways to fund his projects than living with this very rich but very bossy wife. Maybe he could rob a bank or two? Holly's voice cut short his brief fantasy.

“They must have gone into the stadium. The players' tunnel is just over there. Come on…”

The sheep heard the humans running off. They remained motionless for a few seconds, listening intently, then began to relax. But the moment they did so, the trailer doors flew open. Something heavy whizzed over their heads and thumped on the floor. A sports bag. Then another…and another. The warriors ducked and retreated.

“Ohmy—”

“Shush!” whispered Wills to Jaycey.

The storm of sports bags was followed by a shower of dirty boots and finally a football, which bounced off Oxo's head. Different human voices were approaching: loud male voices, talking excitedly.

“Any more for the trailer?” someone yelled.

No one answered the question and the trailer doors were slammed shut.

The trailer rocked a bit as the men outside got into the bus; it vibrated as the driver backed slowly out of the parking bay. Then it jolted to a halt. The warriors heard familiar running footsteps and a familiar voice. They held their breath again.

“Excuse me! Excuse me! Stop!”

“I already did, lady.”

The driver of the bus stared down at a smartly dressed but annoyed-looking woman clutching a length of rope. She had a ratty little man with a sweaty red face with her.

“We're looking for a flock of sheep,” said the woman breathlessly. “Have you seen them?”

“No, lady,” replied the driver. “I see the occasional flying pig but not sheep. Try Hotel English Meadows, two blocks north.” And he resumed reversing.

Holly Boomberg stepped hastily aside but, as the bus swung around and pulled away, she noticed a tuft of wool caught in the trailer doors.

“Stop!” she screamed. “Come back! You've got our sheep!”

She raced after the departing bus and trailer. The driver saw her in his rearview mirror and put his foot down.

“You get all kinds in Vegas…” he muttered.

Holly stepped in front of a passing taxi.

“Follow that bus!” she ordered as she bundled Stanley into the back seat.

The taxi driver didn't argue. You got all kinds in Vegas. Peering forward, Stanley could clearly read the words printed in black on the back of the trailer's red doors: RED TONGUE.

“Well, well,” he said, perking up. “How about that…”

“How about what?” asked Holly.

“That's the team's bus,” said Stanley. “
My
team's bus. I wonder how they got on tonight.”

Holly gave him a look. She would never understand her husband's stupid obsession with American football and Red Tongue. She leaned forward and stared at the trailer, willing it to stop.

***

Inside the trailer, the warriors were being thrown from side to side.

“Sit down, guys,” yelled Wills.

They wedged themselves amongst the heap of bags and boots. One of the bags had come open and its contents had spilled out in the darkness.

“Ohmygrass…” said Jaycey. “What's that smell?” She poked a pair of sweaty socks away from her nose. “Ugh!” But it was better than the perfume of Madam Fantutti.

The bus and trailer rocked on along the highway, leaving the brilliant lights of Las Vegas far behind. The sheep wondered where they were being taken and tried not to listen to their stomachs rumbling.

At dawn the driver pulled off the highway on to the forecourt of the Bouncing Burger Roadhouse.

“Breakfast stop!” he yelled.

The hungry footballers piled out of the bus. Someone yanked open the trailer doors, fished around in a sports bag for some toothpaste, and then ran after the others, leaving the doors open.

The warriors cautiously emerged from the jumble of bags.

“Let's get out and see if we can check where we are,” said Wills.

“What about Staple Gun Woman?” asked Sal.

Wills sprang from the trailer.

“We left her behind in Las Vegas,” he said.

The others jumped out too and stood stretching their legs in the parking lot. As they did so, a taxi turned off the highway, and for a moment, the five sheep were framed in its headlights like a photograph.