Hamish and the Monster Patrol Read online

  For Lola and Darcy - DW

  1

  Days Until Arrival: 7

  Everybody worries about monsters coming, don’t they?

  Horrible monsters rushing through the door. Nasty monsters bursting through the window. Monsters running down the street.

  But can I tell you what is even more worrying than that?

  What’s more frightening?

  More terrifying?

  More awful?

  In fact, worse in every single way?

  When that monster is still miles away.

  What do you mean, that doesn’t sound as bad?

  Think about it.

  You know it’s coming.

  You know it’s on its way, but you don’t know how to stop it.

  One heavy foot after the other, it moves towards you.

  CLUNK.

  THUNK.

  BLUNK.

  Never distracted. Never slowing. Always coming.

  That’s a terrifying thought, isn’t it? Knowing a monster is on its way, even as you sleep, but that you can’t do anything about it?

  Well, that, my young and stinky friend, has been the everyday reality for the people of the small town of Starkley for some time now. Since right after Christmas, in fact, and on through all the dark January nights, with no hope on the horizon to brighten them.

  No one knows what the monster is.

  No one knows what it wants.

  But everyone knows it is coming.

  Steadily.

  Purposefully.

  Definitely.

  Ever since the day it was first spotted on a radar system, moving very slowly indeed through the ocean, scientists have been tracking this ever-growing red dot. Somewhere deep under the swirling water, this enormous unspeakable thing is moving, with clear intention, in the direction of Starkley.

  What is it? What does it want? How long until it’s here?

  Can you imagine living every day under the weight of questions like that?

  The real danger, of course, is that you get used to the fear. You start to ignore the creeping threat, until one day the monster arrives and it’s then you realise you have no fight left.

  So what would you do?

  Run?

  Some people already have.

  Hide?

  But what if it finds you?

  Stay where you are and eat a sandwich and hope for the best?

  A nice idea, but not exactly what I’d call a plan . . .

  All this impending doom has changed the once-cheerful, once-boring town of Starkley beyond recognition.

  In fact, I have to wonder if you’d recognise it at all.

  2

  DAYS UNTIL ARRIVAL: 6

  It was just after teatime, which meant that Hamish Ellerby really had to hurry if he was going to get home before the Gate shut.

  Hamish had been at his karate class at the leisure centre in Frinkley as usual – Mum said it was important to do normal things, even if things weren’t normal at all any more – but after class he’d had a go on the arcades and lost track of time. Now he was cycling quicker than he ever had before, battling against a chill wind that seemed to threaten snow.

  ‘Slow down, Hamish!’ shouted his best friend, Alice, pedalling behind him. ‘We’ve got plenty of time!’

  But Hamish knew that the Siren would be going off soon, and if they didn’t get through the Gate before that happened, they’d be locked out of Starkley all night.

  It began to rain. Fat, freezing drops of rain. The river was swollen and noisy as they rode over the old grey bridge towards Checkpoint Gamma.

  This was all new – these checkpoints and barriers – and they hadn’t been Starkley’s idea. But each night, all the people in the town who had chosen to stay in Starkley, despite The News, had to make sure they were all signed in.

  People called the ever-nearing threat ‘The News’ because it seemed better than calling it ‘The Monster’ or ‘The Upcoming Season of Destruction’ or anything else like that.

  Hamish couldn’t quite believe there was less than a week to go . . .

  When the monster had been spotted on the radar, the rest of the country had decided that the safest thing to do would be to shut Starkley off. Oh, they could come and go during the day, but they’d lock the doors at night, when monsters usually come out. And they’d limit deliveries, because maybe if life wasn’t so cushy in Starkley, more people would leave and the problem might just go away. You have to be cruel to be kind, they said.

  And let’s be honest: this was hardly the first time Starkley had made a spectacle of itself, was it? Trouble seemed to always be just around the corner for the small town. It had only been a few months since the last battle with those awful beasts the Terribles, who had somehow brainwashed all the town’s infants to rise up and riot. And before that, Starkley had fallen foul of the invasion of the Venus spytraps, and before that the giant, time-pausing WorldStoppers. And let’s not forget those brain-zapping Hypnobots!

  So, deep down, the rest of the country wasn’t particularly happy that Starkley had somehow managed to attract yet another monster. Some people had even started protesting outside Parliament, and there’s nothing politicians hate more than that. People mad e banners and put up posters saying things like . . .

  Others said that maybe Starkley should be taught a lesson about always wanting to be the centre of attention. ‘Evening, Hamish. Evening, Alice,’ said a border guard, about to bring down a barrier. ‘Just in time . . .’

  Hamish cruised into the town square, relieved to have made it, and skidded to a halt by the town clock. Alice stopped next to him. The rain was falling more heavily now and both kids watched as it bounced off the tin metal roof of the Control Tower by the clock and spattered on to the sandbags below. There were sandbags everywhere now; experts had started to worry that Starkley could flood if the monster rose out of the sea fast enough. It was right on the coast, after all. ‘Oh, well,’ Madame Cous Cous had said when she heard. ‘Keep Calm and Carry a Snorkel!’

  The Central Speaker HOOOOONKED three times, to tell everyone that it was getting close to curfew time. A lot of the grown-ups would be sitting around right now, arguing about what to do. All the kids had to be indoors soon. The next time the Central Speaker honked, the Child Curfew would start. Parents wanted their kids right where they could see them, mainly because no one fancied going out in the dark any more. Without knowing quite what this monster was, it was easy for rumours to swirl, and for people to drive themselves crazy with questions. What if it sped up? What if there were others coming from different directions? Wait – did I turn off the kitchen tap?

  Belasko had increased its presence in Starkley, led, of course, by their very best agent, Hamish’s dad, Angus Ellerby. The super-spy agency had always come to help Starkley before and this emergency was no different – there were agents all over the place, coming up with plans and researching. They weren’t just going to sit about, waiting for the monster to arrive. The most important thing was to find out just what the monster was, but, so far, none of their plans to get a closer look had worked.

  They’d sent jets flying across the water, but they’d been repelled by bad weather.

  They’d sailed boats out, but their agents never returned.

  They’d tried a submarine, but whatever was heading their way seemed surrounded by a thick black underwater cloud that enveloped it.

  And they couldn’t just shoot missiles at the monster randomly, because what if they hit some fish, or a whale?

  Nothing seemed to be working, so until they could identify the monster heading towards them, all they could do was prepare Starkley for the worst.

  Seeing all these Be
lasko agents everywhere was supposed to make everyone feel better. But it just made people realise how much things had changed.

  Hamish looked up at the giant electronic billboard that now dominated the town square.

  It said:

  Hamish’s tummy sank. The best guess Belasko had was that in just six days – if it kept going at the speed it was going – the monster would be here.

  And in the morning it would say 5.

  ‘See you at school tomorrow,’ said Alice. ‘I’d better get home. Mum’s making weak lentil soup. Bleurgh.’

  ‘See you tomorrow,’ Hamish said. ‘We can still crack this.’

  Alice nodded, trying to remain positive. But she knew the sad truth. That unless they came up with something soon, the unthinkable would happen. Even the bravest souls would have to abandon Starkley.

  Hamish had reason to be hopeful, though.

  ‘I just mean,’ he said, ‘what with your family history and everything . . .’

  Over Christmas, Alice had done some digging into her family tree and she’d found out something extraordinary about her grandmother. Alice had always thought that Granny Lydia had disappeared on a travel-writing trip, but actually Lydia been a monster hunter! It had been a supercool secret to discover and Alice had been proud to share her findings with her friends in the PDF. But, ever since the dot on the radar had been spotted, her best friends seemed to think that Alice should have all the answers. After all, monster hunting ran in her blood. And she had a stripe in her hair, just like her grandma. They were peas in a pod! It was a lot of pressure for poor Alice.

  ‘Yeah . . . maybe we can come up with something,’ she said with a half-smile at her friend. It was weird, something seemed to have changed between them recently. Hamish seemed much quieter these days. Alice worried that Hamish was disappointed in her because this ‘thing’ was coming and even with her monster-hunting genes Alice couldn’t come up with a plan.

  Hamish watched her cycle away in the rain.

  The Central Speaker honked again.

  He turned his bike around and sped home, where he ate his tea, went to bed early, and had the dream again.

  Because what Alice didn’t know was that Hamish had secret worries of his own . . .

  THE DREAM

  Even before the monster had started making its way to Starkley, Hamish had been having the same dream night after night. And tonight was no different. The dream began as it always did . . .

  He’s floating high over the ocean . . . far from town, as his best friends in the world stand on the cliffs and stare up at him.

  Alice, the girl with the stripe in her hair who’d started their gang in the first place.

  Elliot and Clover, the genius and the master of disguise.

  Buster, the technical whizz whose inventions always came in handy in the battle against evil.

  Venk, whose skills were less easy to define, but who could make a cracking sandwich.

  Hamish drifts backwards, his pals growing smaller and smaller . . .

  Suddenly, the looks on their faces change, and they start to wave at Hamish, begging him to stop floating, begging him to come back to them, jumping up and down and shouting . . .

  But Hamish can’t respond . . . the cold air tightens his throat as he turns to face the distance.

  He has no choice.

  The wind rises and the air gets colder still as he begins to fly.

  Fast.

  The sky darkens and the wind gets harder, like nature itself is warning him to go no further. As if it’s trying to scare him into turning back.

  But still he carries on, unable to do anything about it at all. Like he is being pulled through the air, dragged through the clouds.

  Almost as if there is an invisible fist around him.

  He starts to fight, realising this is a mistake, kicking against nothing.

  Black clouds around him swirl. Lightning strikes.

  And then—

  3

  DAYS UNTIL ARRIVAL: 5

  Hamish woke with a start.

  Five days. Oh, no.

  There was no need for an alarm clock these days. The honks of the Central Speaker woke the whole town up. Soon he would hear the rumble of trucks as the Gate opened and the daily food supplies arrived. Maybe he’d pop down Lord of the Fries later . . . if there were enough potatoes. Hamish remembered the last battered sausage and curry sauce he’d had there – weeks ago! – and his mouth began to salivate. Nowadays, it was mainly chips and lentils. Still, at least they had chips. Before Dad had to spend quite so much time at Belasko he’d said to Hamish, ‘Don’t worry. Society will only crumble the day you can’t get chips!’

  Hamish sat up and thought about his dream. He never felt like he got to the end. It was all building up to something, but he could never work out what was really going on. Like when he listened to a rambling speech about steam trains or the history of wallpaper by his teacher, Mr Longblather.

  The Central Speaker stopped its morning honks and Hamish wondered how much closer the monster had crept to Starkley overnight. Apparently it moved very slowly. Somehow that made it even scarier. But recently the experts had detected a minor increase in speed, which wasn’t a good sign. Hamish’s tummy sank.

  And do you know why?

  Not because he was scared. And not because he was sad. And not because he really wanted a battered sausage.

  But because he felt guilty.

  Hamish had a secret. You know how secrets can weigh you down? Well, Hamish’s was a heavy secret. One he longed to tell his friends but didn’t have the courage to. He wished he could be more like Alice, who was so proud when she discovered her grandma’s secret. He didn’t see that maybe Alice had her own problems to deal with. He just felt that he, Hamish Ellerby, had nothing to be proud of.

  Because Hamish had discovered something very confusing, and it was not about his grandma. It was about his nemesis, Axel Scarmarsh. The man who seemed to have singled out Starkley for destruction time and time again. The man whose name struck fear into his heart. Perhaps even the man who was sending this monster. Hamish had found what his dad had told him so hard to believe. He’d even denied it could be true. But he had been forced to accept the grim and unwelcome fact: the man he feared most was also his uncle.

  ‘See you later, chicken!’ said Mum as Hamish grabbed his bag and strode out of 13 Lovelock Close and headed off to school. Before the lockdown, his street was always busy, even early in the morning. Sure, there would normally be glass everywhere from where the milkwoman, Margarine Crinkle, had dropped all her bottles. And Hamish would usually have to wait for the whole of the Ramsface family to pile into their neon fawn-coloured minivan and leave their driveway before he could safely make his way down the road. But since The News, lots of people had decided to leave Starkley and that meant that it felt very quiet indeed. The ones that left said it was just for a while, but Hamish wasn’t so sure. The people who’d stayed were the people who really loved Starkley. The ones who were making a stand. The ones who couldn’t leave at a time when they were needed most. But the ones that Hamish knew would eventually have to.

  Hamish’s family would stay for as long as they could. Same with Alice’s. Buster’s, Venk’s, Elliot’s, and Clover’s too. Even Grenville Bile’s family refused to leave, although that was mainly because his mum, the Postmaster, had very little work to do these days and knew when she was on to a winner.

  Hamish rounded the corner and passed Lord of the Fries. There was a new sign outside that read:

  He reached Winterbourne School. With so many families leaving Starkley, school attendance was at an all-time low. Many of the windows had been boarded up because they only needed to use a few classrooms. There was barbed wire around the fence. There was no noise from the playground. There were no ball games, no screams, no laughter. The kids that were still coming to school just stood around talking quietly about things they’d heard their parents saying and the various rumours flying around about
The News. It made a lot of people very nervous. The future can be scary when everything changes and you don’t know what’s going to happen next.

  Hamish took a deep breath. He knew what was going to happen next.

  And it wasn’t good.

  It was geography.

  4

  DAYS UNTIL ARRIVAL: STILL 5

  ‘Right!’ said Mr Longblather, adjusting his polyester tie and standing by his whiteboard. ‘We never did finish that lesson on soil erosion!’

  There were groans all round. Apparently, your town being threatened by an enormous sea monster didn’t mean you could skip school. Hamish looked around the class. So many empty desks. His friend Robin had been the first kid to get yanked out of school by his mum. And that was before they even suspected it was a monster. Robin’s mum had just heard about a red dot on a radar thousands of miles away, and boom – she’d bought a two-bedroom bungalow in Thrunkley and retrained as a butcher.

  ‘Please, Mr Longblather,’ said Elliot, his hand straining in the air. ‘Could we talk about the Gulf of Mexico?’

  Mr Longblather rolled his eyes.

  ‘We’ve been through this a thousand times,’ said Mr Longblather. ‘Whatever the creature is, it began its life in the Gulf of Mexico.’

  ‘Which formed three hundred million years ago as a result of plate tectonics!’ yelled Elliot, delighted with himself, and holding up a large poster he’d made in his spare time to explain what the heck that meant.

  ‘The creature then dragged itself along the seabed,’ said Mr Longblather, repeating himself for what seemed like the thousandth time, ‘and it grew to a size big enough to be spotted by radar. It changed course once and once only.’

  ‘To head straight from the Gulf of Mexico in the direction of Starkley!’ yelled Elliot again, delighted, and flipping his poster round to show a map of the monster’s route.