Beetle Queen Page 21

  And suddenly Dad was there, his arms outstretched, catching the rhinoceros beetle and drawing him into his chest, tumbling to the floor with a grunt of pain.

  Darkus stumbled to his father.

  ‘Dad? Baxter?’ He fell to his knees at his father’s side, wiping away tears. ‘Are you OK?’

  Bartholomew Cuttle carefully opened his hands. Sitting on his palm was a stunned but living rhinoceros beetle. Baxter lifted his foreleg and waved at Darkus, weakly, to show he was alive.

  ‘Oh, Baxter! You crazy brave beetle! I thought I’d lost you.’ He grabbed the beetle up to his chest, curling his shoulders forwards around his cupped hands. ‘Don’t ever do that to me again.’

  Baxter opened his mouth and smiled up at Darkus.

  ‘Dad, you saved him. You saved Baxter.’ Darkus beamed at his father. ‘I knew you were on our side really.’

  ‘Listen to me, Darkus.’ Bartholomew Cuttle was getting to his feet. ‘I have to go with her. I have to go with Lucretia Cutter.’

  ‘What? But – but I saved you.’

  ‘Yes. And you were amazing. But you’ve seen what she’s going to do. What she’s already doing. It’s much bigger than this awards ceremony. She won’t stop until the world is under her control.’ Bartholomew Cuttle took his son’s hand. ‘I have to go with her. It’s my only chance to stop her and I have a plan.’ He paused. ‘But she’ll only trust me if she thinks I’ve abandoned you. If she thinks I’ve chosen her over you.’ He gripped Darkus’s hand and looked him in the eyes. ‘Can you understand? I know it’s a lot to ask.’

  Darkus nodded and his father put a piece of paper into his pocket. ‘She has a secret laboratory – it’s called the Biome.’

  ‘Hidden in the Amazon.’ Darkus said.

  ‘Yes!’ His father looked surprised. ‘And you were right about Spencer Crips. She has him there. Tell his mother he’s alive, being made to work for Lucretia Cutter. These,’ he pointed at Darkus’s pocket, ‘are the co-ordinates. I got them from the butler – he’s on our side. You need to tell the world what’s going on. Go to the entomologists, they’ll help you.’

  Darkus got to his feet. ‘Dad, you’ve got to protect Novak. Don’t let Lucretia Cutter put her back in the pupator. She’s frightened, and she’s my friend.’

  ‘I will. I promise.’ Bartholomew Cuttle nodded. He put his hands on Darkus’s shoulders. ‘That night we argued, I should have listened to you – about the beetles, about everything. I’m sorry. They’re amazing. You are amazing.’ He hugged Darkus and Baxter tightly. ‘I’m going to need you to be brave for a little longer, and if you can bear it, come and save me one last time.’ He let go. ‘And then we’ll be together again, and nothing will separate us. I promise.’

  ‘I’ll rescue you as many times as you need me to,’ Darkus said, his eyes filling with tears. ‘Me and Baxter will.’

  ‘I love you, son,’ Bartholomew Cuttle said, over his shoulder as he turned and followed Dankish, Craven and Mawling, up a ladder into the fly tower.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Stowaways

  Humphrey and Pickering stood on the flat roof of the apartment block adjacent to the Hollywood Theater. They’d found a fire escape that took them up on to the roof.

  ‘If we can’t get into the theatre on the ground floor,’ Humphrey said, looking at the gap between the two buildings, ‘then we’ll get in from the top.’

  Three metres of space marked the separation between the two buildings, and a drop of fourteen storeys.

  ‘Look!’ Pickering tugged at Humphrey’s sleeve. ‘Lucretia Cutter’s helicopter!’

  On the theatre rooftop was a helipad, and a black helicopter with a gold scarab emblazoned on the side. Sitting in the pilot’s seat was the French butler.

  ‘I see it,’ Humphrey grunted. ‘I also see the massive gap between us and that rooftop.’

  ‘It’s not so big.’ Pickering couldn’t take his eyes off the helicopter, and kept licking his lips.

  Humphrey pointed at a thick chain strung along the edge of the helipad. ‘If you could get that chain, tie it around that air-conditioning vent and throw it back to me, I could swing over and climb up. It looks strong enough to hold my weight.’

  Pickering’s brow creased. ‘But how will I get over there?’

  ‘I’ll throw you,’ Humphrey said.

  Pickering’s mouth fell open. ‘You’ll what?’

  ‘You go way back there, to the far edge of the rooftop, and I’ll stand here.’ He rooted his feet against the stumpy wall that kept them from the extreme edge of the roof. ‘Run as fast as you can towards me and jump, as if you were going to leap across the gap, and as you jump, I’ll grab you and fling you.’

  Pickering’s eyebrows lifted so high they touched his thatch of hair.

  ‘No other way to get over there,’ Humphrey said, wiping his nose with the back of his hand.

  ‘You’ll throw me as hard as you can. Right?’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘OK.’ Pickering trudged off to the other side of the roof. When he got there he squatted down in a sprint start position, his bum in the air and fists on the tarmac.

  ‘Wait!’ Humphrey stopped him. ‘Tuck your skirt in your Y-fronts. We don’t want it getting in the way.’

  Standing up straight, Pickering gathered up the long flowery skirt and stuffed it in his Y-fronts.

  ‘On three,’ he called out, squatting back down. ‘One, Two, Three.’ And suddenly he was dashing towards Humphrey.

  Bending his knees, Humphrey held his hands out, ready.

  As Pickering’s feet hit the floor to make the jump he let out an almighty shriek. ‘NOWWWWWWWWWWWWW!’

  ‘ARGHHHHHHHHHHH!’ Humphrey roared as he hurled Pickering forwards as hard as he could, flinging himself backwards immediately after letting go, to stop from falling over the edge of the building. As his buttocks hit the floor he wondered if he’d just missed a good opportunity to get rid of his annoying cousin once and for all.

  He propped himself up on his bulbous elbows, and looked to see if Pickering had made it to the other side. There was no sign of him. He peered down into the alley between the two buildings. There was no splattered Pickering on the ground.

  As Humphrey got to his feet, he saw his cousin lying flat on the theatre roof, blood streaming from his beaky nose. It was broken and pointing left, rather than straight down. As Pickering slowly sat up, Humphrey gave a belly-gurgle of a laugh. It had worked!

  ‘Oi, Pickers!’ he shouted.

  Pickering looked at him and blinked, blood streaming down his chin.

  Humphrey pointed. ‘Get the chain.’

  Gingerly getting to his feet, Pickering stumbled forwards and worked loose a broken brick from the base of a chimney, and carried it to the iron post that the chain was welded to. He smashed at it till the chain broke away. Humphrey kept an eye on the butler, but he hadn’t noticed them. Pickering unthreaded the long chain from the posts, and carried it in his arms back to the chimney, looped it around and tied it in a knot. Then he threw the loose end to Humphrey.

  Humphrey tugged on the chain to make sure it would take his weight, and then, before he had a chance to change his mind, he wrapped it around his wrist several times and ran at the roof edge, leaping as far as he could, grabbing up the chain as he began to fall and swinging himself forwards. He hit the theatre wall hard, and dropped down a half a metre. But the chain held firm, and, hand over hand, he pulled himself up on to the theatre roof.

  Once he’d got his elbows over the lip of the building, Pickering leant over and grabbed at his belt loops, helping to heave him over.

  Humphrey lay on his back panting. His heart was beating faster than it ever had before.

  ‘The butler’s getting out of the helicopter!’ Pickering hissed, dropping down on to his belly beside Humphrey. ‘He’s going to that door – it must lead into the theatre.’ His eyes lit up as he looked down at Humphrey. ‘We should follow him.’

  They heard a c
ommotion on the street below. Humphrey peered over the edge of the building, still waiting for his heart to stop hopping about inside his ribs. There were people screaming and running out of the theatre.

  ‘Something’s happening in there.’

  ‘Let’s go inside and find out what it is.’ Pickering jumped up.

  ‘No!’ Humphrey shook his head. ‘Think about it, dummy.’ He pointed at the helicopter. ‘That’s how Lucretia Cutter is leaving the building.’ He grinned at his cousin. ‘So we don’t want to go into the theatre. We want to get on to that helicopter, with her.’

  ‘That’s a good idea!’ Pickering marvelled. ‘I wonder where it’s going?’

  ‘Probably to one of her swanky houses on a private island with coconut trees and swimming pools.’ Humphrey replied.

  The cousins scrambled to their feet and dashed over to the helicopter.

  ‘There’s nowhere to hide!’ Pickering exclaimed, looking into the cabin. He was right. If they got in, they’d be spotted and chucked out immediately.

  ‘Do helicopters have luggage compartments?’ Humphrey wondered.

  ‘Here!’ Pickering squealed, opening a hatch door. ‘It’s full of bags.’

  ‘Quick, pull them out. I’ll chuck them over the edge.’

  Pickering emptied the luggage compartment and scrambled in, whilst Humphrey dumped all Lucretia Cutter’s bags over the side of the building.

  ‘Move up,’ Humphrey said. He crawled in backwards on all fours so he could shut the door.

  ‘Ouch! There isn’t enough room. You’re too fat.’

  ‘Shut up.’ Humphrey pushed backwards, and with a wrench slammed the door shut. He heard his cousin whimper. ‘What’s the matter?’ he hissed.

  ‘Your bottom is wedged against my face,’ Pickering said, unhappily. ‘You’d better not fart.’

  ‘Shhhh.’ Humphrey cocked his head. ‘I can hear someone coming. Just think, when we get out, we’ll be in paradise.’

  ‘Alone with Lucretia Cutter,’ Pickering cooed.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Christmas Day

  Darkus followed Uncle Max down the hospital corridor. There were Christmas decorations hanging from the white ceiling, and as he passed by windows into wards, he realized that there were a lot of people who didn’t get to spend Christmas with their family. It wasn’t just him.

  ‘Here we are,’ Uncle Max announced, opening a door and marching through it.

  Sitting up in bed, drinking green tea, was Professor Andrew Appleyard.

  ‘A very merry Christmas to you, Andrew,’ Uncle Max boomed, sitting down on the chair beside the bed.

  Darkus shuffled shyly to his side. ‘Happy Christmas, Professor Appleyard.’

  ‘And a merry Christmas to you both.’ Professor Appleyard lifted his tea. ‘May your life cycle be longer than a mayfly’s.’ He chuckled.

  ‘I brought you a present,’ Darkus said, offering the brightly-wrapped box he was nervously clutching.

  ‘I’m too old for presents,’ Professor Appleyard protested. ‘You didn’t need to go and do that.’

  ‘I wanted to,’ Darkus said.

  The professor put down his tea and delicately unwrapped the present. When they’d got back from America, Uncle Max had called the hospital to check on Professor Appleyard’s condition, and been told that he’d come out of his coma the day before the Film Awards and seemed to be making a full and speedy recovery. Darkus was relieved, but he still felt responsible for Professor Appleyard ending up in hospital in the first place.

  ‘Are you all better now?’ he asked.

  ‘I think so,’ the professor replied. ‘It would seem I was bitten by a venomous insect, which is peculiar because the venom they found in my system appears to have been from a black widow spider, but the only insect I saw before I passed out was a yellow ladybird, and black widows are not native to this country.’ He shook his head. ‘Luckily I’ve been bitten by a black widow before, and I appear to have built up some immunity.’

  ‘You’ve been bitten by a black widow?’

  ‘Oh, it was my fault entirely, I scared the poor thing by accident. Black widows are not aggresive,’ he said, pulling the paper off his present. ‘Oh, Darkus, how wonderful! Chocolate-covered crickets. What a treat. Thank you.’

  ‘The ladybird was Lucretia Cutter’s,’ Darkus said. ‘We’ve been studying them. The ones with eleven spots are deadly.’

  ‘Really? How interesting. I’d love to see your work.’ Professor Appleyard rubbed his eyes. ‘I must have angered Lucy when I asked the global entomology network to call for citizen invasion monitoring, getting people to keep an eye out for her Frankenstein beetles.’

  ‘I thought it was my fault,’ Darkus said.

  ‘What? Why would you think such a thing?’

  ‘I led the ladybirds to you,’ Darkus admitted.

  ‘Dear boy, no. I have been worrying about Lucy Johnstone ever since the Fabre Project closed down. You aren’t the only one fighting her, you know.’

  Darkus beamed. ‘That is good to know.’

  ‘I’ve checked with the doctors,’ Uncle Max said. ‘They’re happy to discharge you, if you want to go home.’

  ‘I would love to go home.’ Professor Appleyard smiled. ‘I need to feed my arthropods.’

  ‘Then we’ll take you. I’ve got the car in the car park.’

  ‘We’re going to have Christmas dinner at Virginia’s,’ Darkus said, ‘and you’re invited too. There won’t be any bugs to eat, but if you wanted to come, we can tell you all about Lucretia Cutter.’

  Professor Appleyard had already thrown back his blanket and was slipping his feet into his shoes. ‘That sounds wonderful, Darkus. I want to hear all about it. I watched the Film Awards on the television.’ He pointed up to a screen bolted to the wall. ‘I’ve never seen such madness.’

  Darkus reached up and rang the doorbell.

  ‘Happy Christmas!’ Virginia yelled as she yanked the door open. ‘Where are your uncle and the professor?’

  ‘They’re coming. The professor’s got a wheelchair until his strength comes back,’ Darkus said, following Virginia into the Wallace house. ‘But he’s fine.’

  Serena, Virginia’s older sister, was sitting on the stairs talking into her mobile phone, looking bored and picking the nail polish off her neon-yellow fingernails. Virginia led Darkus into the living room. David, her oldest brother, sat in a big armchair, headphones on, eyes glued to a games console. He grunted at them as they entered the room.

  ‘That’s David’s version of “Happy Christmas”,’ Virginia said.

  There was a thundering sound as Sean ran down the stairs, bursting into the room behind them. ‘Did you bring the rhinoceros beetle?’ he asked.

  ‘Where are your manners?’ Barbara Wallace waddled in, flicking a tea towel at David. ‘Offer Darkus your seat, David – he’s all alone, with no parents to spend this Christmas Day with.’

  ‘I wish I had no parents,’ David muttered.

  ‘I heard that.’

  ‘I’m fine, Mrs Wallace,’ Darkus said as Keisha and Darnell chased each other in and out of the room, shrieking.

  ‘What can I get you to drink, Darkus? Would you like a mince pie?’

  The doorbell rang and Virginia sprinted out of the room.

  ‘An orange juice would be lovely,’ Darkus replied. ‘Thank you.’

  It was Bertolt and his mum, followed by Mrs Crips carrying a Christmas cake.

  ‘Merry Christmas,’ Bertolt said, with a wide smile.

  ‘Come in, everyone!’ Virginia shouted, as they all piled into the living room.

  ‘Thanks for inviting Mrs Crips,’ Bertolt whispered to Virginia.

  ‘Of course!’ Virginia smiled. ‘No one should be alone on Christmas Day.’

  Sean came in with a dinner plate of chopped-up bananas, melon and sweet potato. ‘I’ve brought a snack for the beetles,’ he announced, setting the plate down on the coffee table beside the Christmas newspapers. The
beetles didn’t need telling twice. Baxter and Marvin flew down to the plate and began eating. Baxter climbed on to the banana and Marvin hugged the sweet potato.

  ‘Newton doesn’t eat much,’ Bertolt explained apologetically.

  ‘So cool.’ Sean stared at them in wonder.

  Uncle Max wheeled Professor Appleyard’s chair in, and it had a bag full of presents hanging off the back, which he placed under the Christmas tree. The three mothers, Mrs Wallace, Mrs Crips and Miss Bloom sat together on the sofa with glasses of sherry, discussing the newspapers on the coffee table. The front pages were covered in pictures from the Film Awards, mostly of the naked, screaming Ruby Hisolo Jnr.

  Stories reported that Lucretia Cutter had gone crazy, designing live beetle dresses, and that Novak Cutter was a dreadful actress who should never have even been nominated for an award.

  ‘I don’t understand.’ Bertolt picked up the Daily News. ‘Why is no one talking about the millions of beetles Lucretia Cutter has released into the ecosystem in a bid to take over the world?’ He shook his head.

  ‘Because a story about a naked film star sells more papers,’ Barbara Wallace replied, and the mothers nodded.

  ‘But her beetles are out there, wreaking havoc,’ Uncle Max said. He pointed to a story on page five. ‘Look. There’s a story here about ruined wheat crops in Texas. America’s declared a state of national emergency.’

  ‘So what do we do now?’ Virginia asked.

  ‘First week of January,’ Darkus said, ‘there’s the International Congress of Entomology in Prague. Uncle Max is going to take me and Dr Yuki Ishikawa’s coming too. He saw the Film Awards.’

  ‘He is?’ Bertolt smiled. ‘Oh, good.’

  ‘Me too.’ Professor Appleyard said. ‘It’ll take more than black widow spider venom to stop me from going to that conference.’

  ‘Darkus has an extraordinary collection of beetles to show our fellow scientists,’ Uncle Max said proudly, ‘and a story they all need to hear.’

  ‘You up for that, Baxter?’ Darkus grinned, and Baxter flew to his shoulder, nuzzling his head against the boy’s neck.