Revenge of the Beetle Queen Page 19

  A bell sounded in the theatre five times, indicating there were five minutes till the awards ceremony started.

  She lifted her hand up to the slotted vent above the sealed window.

  “Tell him to hurry, Hepburn.”

  The pretty jewel beetle skipped up into the air and flew away from the theatre, leaving Novak alone.

  Novak settled into her seat in the front row, between Stella Manning and Mater, just as the lights dimmed. Her heart leapt as a magical swirl of harp strings played and spotlights swept in loops around the ceiling. The curtain lifted, and the lights moved to point at the center of the stage, where the awards would be given out. There were two sets of stairs leading up from the audience onto the platform, one on the left and one on the right, and the proscenium arch above the stage was decorated with strings of twinkling lights that reminded Novak of fireflies. She thought of Newton, Bertolt, and Darkus, and silently wished for Hepburn to find them safely.

  A voice boomed over the speakers, “Good evening, ladies and gentleman. Welcome to the Ninety-Second Film Awards. It’s going to be an exciting night, so let’s get started by welcoming to the stage your host, Leonora Lavish!”

  There was an orchestral burst of music and the twinkling lights rippled as the audience applauded the entrance of a beautiful six-foot-tall man with a beard, in an exquisite dress of glittering crystals. He launched into a monologue that had all the adults laughing, but Novak was too nervous to really listen, and then he started singing. He performed a medley about all the movies nominated, and his voice was sweet and powerful. Novak blushed and giggled at the bit where Leonora pretended to be her, befriending a giant dragon, which then ate her. A camera moved along tracks at the side of the stage, and Novak realized she was being filmed, that everyone in the world could see her, and her gut clenched with fear. This is what Mater wants! she realized.

  She stole a look to her right, where Mater sat perfectly still, staring at the stage with the intensity of a coiled snake about to pounce. Darkus’s dad sat beside her, pretending to laugh at Leonora Lavish, but looking anxious, his body tense. Novak wondered if she should try and tell him that Darkus was coming, but it was impossible. Mater kept him by her side, always.

  As each award was given out, Novak became more and more nervous. The music and the jokes seemed increasingly garish and unfunny. The Best Actor and Best Actress awards were the big ones, and came toward the end of the ceremony. The waiting was unbearable. Novak kept leaning forward trying to see into the wings, hoping to spot Darkus. She stole glances at Bartholomew Cuttle, but his face was a blank. What kind of game was he playing?

  There was a fanfare. “Please welcome to the stage Billy Vanity.”

  People got to their feet, applauding the man who had won Best Actor last year. He held a solid gold Film Award and an envelope in his hands. Novak sucked in her breath. This was it. Whatever was going to happen was going to happen now. She closed her eyes and thought of Darkus.

  Billy Vanity stopped at the microphone.

  “Let’s get straight down to business,” he said, smiling at the camera. “Nominated in the category of Best Actress are: Ruby Hisolo Jr. for Sarah Lane in A Bridge Over Your Heart, a tragic story of unrequited love set in the world of eighteenth-century bridge construction.” He paused for the applause. “Stella Manning for Hedda Tesman in Hedda Gabler, a screen adaptation of Ibsen’s classic play about a passionate woman throwing off the shackles of married life.” He paused again while there was riotous applause. “And Novak Cutter for Lyla in Taming of a Dragon, an epic fantasy about a blind girl and her pet dragon.” He paused. There was a polite spattering of clapping. “And the winner is …” He tore open the envelope. “Novak Cutter for Lyla in Taming of a Dragon.”

  There was an audible moment of surprised silence before the ripple of applause came.

  Novak stood up like a robot. Lucretia Cutter stood up beside her, taking her hand and ushering her onto the stage.

  Billy Vanity couldn’t hide the look of surprise on his face as he handed the Film Award to Novak Cutter.

  “I’m sorry,” Novak whispered as she took it. He bowed to her and stepped to one side.

  Standing center stage, Lucretia Cutter leaned into the microphone and smiled.

  “I’m sure many of you are wondering why we are standing up here. After all, Taming of a Dragon was a vacuous fantasy and this child is a terrible actor.” She laughed.

  Novak’s insides turned to ice. She was frightened.

  “I paid handsomely to have the opportunity to stand here tonight, when every screen in the world is trained on this stage. So I for one would like to dedicate this award to the greedy and pliable fools who voted for Taming of a Dragon.”

  There was an uncomfortable murmur from the audience, and loud music suddenly played out over the sound system.

  “You CANNOT silence me!” Lucretia Cutter shook her head and tutted. “Dankish! Deal with the sound man, would you?”

  There was a cry, and the music abruptly stopped playing. A concerned murmur rippled through the audience.

  “That’s better. Now, where were we?”

  A pair of security guards ran onto the stage. Mawling stepped through the heavy red curtains and swung his fist, knocking them both to the ground with one punch. Neither man got up. He pulled out a gun and pointed it at the audience of startled film stars. Billy Vanity started to shuffle backward off the stage, looking terrified.

  “Ling Ling, have you dealt with security?”

  The chauffeur was there at Lucretia Cutter’s feet, her hat gone, her palms together and her head bowed.

  “Good. Now there will be no more interruptions.” She pointed at the audience. “You are not why I’m here, but if any of you move, Mawling will shoot you.” She looked down the barrel of the camera with the red light. “Hello, world. Bonjour, hola, hej, nín hăo, merhaba, konnichiwa. Sorry to interrupt your vapid enjoyment of the annual Film Awards, but I’m here with a live documentary of history in the making.” She threw her arms in the air and the red curtains behind her opened, revealing a giant screen. “This movie is going to change your miserable lives.”

  An image of a rolling landscape of wheat fields appeared on the screen.

  “Isn’t that beautiful?” She pointed. “It’s the wheat harvest for next year. That’s what will make the bread that you eat, your pasta, your burger buns, your bagels.” She lifted a phone out of an unseen pocket. “You may not be aware of this, but there is a power greater than money.” She bent her head to the phone. “Craven, can you hear me? Wave to the people of the world.” Craven’s face leered into view as he waved at the camera. “Craven is in Texas, in the Wheat Belt of America. Did you know that the US is the third-biggest wheat producer in the world? The industry is valued at around nine billion dollars.” She lifted the phone. “Craven? Release the beetles.”

  The camera panned back to show Craven standing up on the back of a cylindrical tank atop a truck. He wrenched a lever and the tank flew open. There was a loud buzzing sound as the air became thick with millions of small black beetles, obscuring the camera and the view of the fields.

  There were gasps and suppressed cries of distress in the auditorium.

  “Live TV, everyone!” Lucretia Cutter gestured to the screen and gave it a little round of applause. “Oh dear, it looks like my beetles are hungry.” The camera zoomed in to a close-up of an ear of wheat being decimated by a horde of beetles. “I guess some of you won’t be having toast for breakfast next year. Bread’s going to become expensive.” Her laugh was low and guttural. “I do hope the fruit harvest in Florida is okay. Beetles love fruit.” She put her finger to her gold lips in mock concern, before flinging it up in a dramatic gesture. “I’ll bet you haven’t ever spent time getting to know the humble beetle. Did you know that beetles are the most successful, resilient, and evolutionarily sophisticated creature on the planet? No? There are more species of beetle on the planet than we can count. They can live in the most ho
stile of habitats, on land and in water, and they outnumber us considerably.” She smiled. “But what they’ve lacked, until now, is a leader. Well, that’s all about to change.” The screen behind her showed the once-golden wheat field, now black with beetles. “Today marks the end of the human era and the beginning of a new coleopteran one.”

  Someone in the silent auditorium laughed.

  “Laugh while you can,” Lucretia Cutter snarled. “This revolution is already happening, but at such an infinitesimal level that you don’t see it. Your crops are failing and your trees are dying. On my order the dung beetles have taken a holiday; your cattle fields are filling with animal excrement that will spread disease. In a few short months you will turn on one another, fighting for the food that remains, and as you starve and people start dying, you’ll see that what I’m saying is true.” Her voice grew louder to reach over the frightened murmur of the audience. “THE BEETLES ARE RISING!”

  Her dress rippled and swayed, catching the light as it broke apart, forming regimented lines of gold scarabs that hovered in the air, revealing Lucretia Cutter’s four black beetle legs and black abdomen. She arched forward as two gold elytra flipped up and her two black wings unfolded, vibrating and lifting her off the floor. Her human forearms reached up and lifted her crown, and she shook her head, tossing off her wig and glasses. She placed the crown back on her shiny black scalp, two antennae rising up out of it, her compound eyes shining as she tore her prosthetic chin away to reveal her black mandibles.

  “I AM THE BEETLE QUEEN, AND YOU WILL ALL BOW DOWN TO ME.”

  Darkus broke his gaze away from the terrifying sight of a hovering Lucretia Cutter. His feet felt like they were welded to the stage, but his body was screaming that he should run. He grabbed Virginia’s and Bertolt’s hands and they looked at him, their eyes wide with fear. From where they were standing, in the wings of the stage, they couldn’t see the audience, but they could hear the confused gasps and suppressed screams. One man, thinking this was part of the show, applauded and called out, “Amazing costume! Look at the prosthetics!” until Mawling fired a warning shot at him.

  “It’s now or never,” Darkus whispered.

  “Now,” Virginia said, and Bertolt nodded.

  “Don’t let any of her beetles bite you,” Darkus said. “Remember the yellow ladybugs.”

  And then he was running onto the stage, flanked by his friends.

  “NO!” Darkus cried at the top of his voice. “We will NEVER bow down to you!”

  Lucretia Cutter turned her head, her black mouth open wide. “You!” she spat. “I thought you were dead!”

  “Darkus!”

  His dad was standing in the middle of the front row of the audience, dressed in a smart blue tuxedo, clean-shaven with slicked-back hair.

  “Get away from her!”

  “Dad!” Darkus faltered.

  “I will just have to kill you again.” Lucretia Cutter turned to the audience. “Let this be a warning to you”—to the camera—“to all of you.” She threw her head back and made a ghastly scratching noise.

  “NO!” Bartholomew Cuttle cried.

  Novak screamed as her dress vibrated, exploding into a thousand hovering black beads, leaving her standing in her black catsuit.

  Lucretia Cutter made a series of clicking noises that Darkus recognized, and the bombardier beetles who had clothed Novak flew straight at his face.

  “Darkus!” he heard his father shout. “Run!”

  It was too much for the ceremony guests, who’d been pinned to their seats by fear, and they cried out and grabbed one another.

  Darkus dropped into a crouch, grabbing the hose strapped to the side of his backpack and flicking a switch as he pointed it at the bombardier beetles zooming toward him.

  “Virginia!” he cried. “Bertolt!”

  “Here!” they replied in unison, running forward, each with their backpack pooters switched on.

  Baxter reared up on Darkus’s shoulder, ready to spike any bombardier beetle that made it past Darkus’s hose. Within seconds Darkus had sucked up the attacking bombardier beetles and was back on his feet. He turned his head, worried that the beetle’s acid would burn through the tank, but once inside, away from the sound of Lucretia Cutter’s commands, they calmed down and behaved like ordinary beetles.

  “Security!” a man shouted. “What are you waiting for? Get her! Get Lucretia Cutter!”

  A woman screamed and leapt to her feet. It was a famous scream that had been heard in movie theatres all over the globe, and the air above the theatre seats suddenly became thick with shimmering white beetles.

  Everybody stared with disbelief at a suddenly stark naked Ruby Hisolo Jr. as a throng of beetles gathered above her head. Her dress had broken apart into a battalion of hovering insects.

  Another scream, a deeper, richer voice, sounded, and a menacing throng of emerald-green jewel beetles zoomed up to join the Cyphochilus, as Stella Manning stood beside Ruby Hisolo Jr. in nothing but Spanx and a corset, batting the insects away from her face.

  The cameras, already trained on the famous actresses to capture their joy or disappointment when the award winner was announced, now broadcast the naked bottom of Ruby Hisolo Jr. and Stella Manning’s panic to the world as the swarm of white, green, and gold beetles hovering above the heads of the audience dived down, biting and scratching the stars of stage and screen. A medley of screams, cries, and shouts of alarm were accompanied by the buzzing vibration of a thousand pairs of beetle wings. Darkus saw that the jewel beetles from Stella Manning’s dress had the jaws and teeth of tiger beetles, and that their bite drew blood.

  “Dad!” Darkus cried, losing sight of his father as people ran, pushing each other and climbing over seats. Some were trying to fight their way forward to the stage to get at Lucretia Cutter, and others were scrambling toward the doors at the back of the theatre, trying to escape. The naked, hysterical Ruby Hisolo Jr. ran up and down the aisle trying to rip clothes off other people’s backs to cover her body. She was regretting her decision not to wear underwear to the Film Awards, and several opportunist photographers were falling over each other trying to get pictures.

  A woman pulled out a pistol from her garter belt and fired a shot. There was a moment of stunned silence as everyone turned to look at the hovering beetle woman, to see if she’d fallen. The bullet glanced off Lucretia Cutter’s exoskeleton, ricocheting backward, severing a wire that held up one side of the massive screen showing the decimated wheat harvest. One corner dropped to the ground and swung forward, revealing a pyramid of gold birdcages filled with exotic parakeets that were squawking and thrashing about their cages, trying to get out.

  Lucretia Cutter laughed, a horrible guttural mix of gurgles and hisses, reveling in the mayhem. More shots were fired. One man swung his fist at a swarm of beetles, lost his balance, and hit a famous movie star, who spun round and punched him in the face. Fights broke out all over the theatre. Lucretia Cutter turned to the camera with the red light.

  “I demand that your government draw up a charter handing sovereignty to me.” She leaned forward. “If they do it quickly, maybe you won’t starve to death.”

  Darkus followed Lucretia Cutter’s eyeline and spotted Ling Ling behind the camera. This show was all for the cameras. He had to get Lucretia Cutter off the air, but he also had to stop the beetles attacking people. He looked out into the auditorium and spotted Uncle Max and Motty fighting with Mawling and Dankish. Calista Bloom was standing behind them, taking a picture of herself with all the famous people being attacked by beetles.

  His eyes landed on the big spotlights mounted on tripods at the back of the theatre. He waved at Virginia and Bertolt and pointed.

  “We’ve got to stop this,” he shouted. “The lights! Use the lights!”

  Bertolt frowned, but Virginia’s eyes lit up and she nodded. She gave Bertolt a shove and they jumped off the stage, running into the auditorium, sucking up Lucretia Cutter’s beetles as they went.

&nb
sp; “Baxter,” Darkus said, taking the beetle off his shoulder, “can you fly to that camera and find the off switch?” The rhinoceros beetle nodded and leapt into the air. “Novak, get into the wings.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Don’t worry about me,” he replied, jumping to his feet and launching himself off the stage at the deadly chauffeur.

  Ling Ling sprang up, her torso flipping and legs scissoring as she twisted in the air. Darkus slid right through the space she’d been standing in and clattered to the floor. Ling Ling landed, one foot on either side of Darkus’s head.

  “No!” Novak screamed, scrambling to the edge of the stage.

  “Hi!” Darkus grinned.

  As Ling Ling drew up her leg to kick Darkus in the face, he flicked the switch on his air pump, firing a stream of bombardier beetles back out of the hose of his aspirator, right into Ling Ling’s face. She stumbled backward, her hands covering her face as it sizzled and burnt from the acid sprayed by the panicked beetles.

  Darkus scrambled away, following the cables that sprouted out of the TV camera to an electrical box.

  Lucretia Cutter’s antennae flicked and thrashed about as she called the bombardier beetles away from Ling Ling, instructing them to join the army of beetles attacking the humans in the auditorium.

  Darkus flipped open two plastic containers strapped into his utility belt, each containing four titan beetles.

  “Get into the electrical box,” he whispered to the Base Camp beetles, “and eat through the wires. Stop the broadcast.”

  The titan beetles didn’t need to be told twice. They scurried down through the wires and began chewing the cables.

  Darkus felt his body suddenly being lifted into the air, and he grabbed onto the camera. Ling Ling ripped off his backpack, tossing it aside. Darkus struggled and kicked, but she was surprisingly strong.

  Darkus heard Uncle Max shout, “Get your hands off my nephew!” and saw him running toward them, pushing up his sleeves, but Mawling had spotted him, too, and was charging down the stairs from the stage like a steam train.