The Earth Is My Ant Farm by Allen Cooke - HTML preview

CHAPTER EIGHT

The prow of the boat glided effortlessly across the crystal

waters of the yet unnamed planet as Derek turned to take one last

look at the island he had called home for a brief period; he was

dismayed to see that by now there was nothing left.

A plume of steam rose up from the place where the huge

volcano once stood, Derek had come close to naming this special

island, but you couldn’t name land if it wasn’t there anymore.

“Where do we go now, Chin? I can’t see anything,” he sobbed

to his shipmate.

“We find place, look where birds fly.”

Derek rolled his eyes for the umpteenth time, “There aren’t

any bloody birds, there aren’t any insects, all we have is plants!”

The small flower child turned its head to stare at him which

made Derek wonder where his eyes were. He stroked the top of his

petals to comfort him as he looked back over the huge expanse of

ocean.

To either side were the committed lines of plants swimming

away with all their might towards their unknown fate.

Derek prayed for divine rescue but he had been doing this for

the past few weeks and it seemed that his God was taking a

sabbatical or had finally forsaken him.

He was grateful that Chin was still alive though, as he couldn’t

imagine doing it all on his own and probably would have perished

along with the island and the contents of B&Q’s garden section.



Back on Earth the media frenzy had whipped up a huge storm;

‘Rake Killer’ had appeared on every Runcorn Echo newstand in

the town. People were forming queues to get their copy before they ran out.

The news stations were in full force briefing Joe Public on

every minute detail they could lay their hands on, some were even

postulating on the size and type of rake used to perform the vile

acts.

The police couldn’t say for sure if it was a serial killer on the

loose but hearsay, whispers and rumours had already established

that no one was safe. People locked their doors and tuned into

Richard and Judy to escape the carnage.

“Mother, come quick, they’re talking about our house!”

exclaimed Honey.

Gloria hurried to the lounge to take in the newsflash and

almost dropped her plate of French Fancies; it was only a matter of time before 42 Blossom Meadows reared its ugly head again.

“Citron, Ella! take Jack outside for a play, will you? He needs

some exercise.” Honey called in an attempt to ensure their ears

were hearing something else.

The twins grumbled in unison and took Jack by both arms and

marched him out into the garden to throw balls at him.

“My God, Honey, what’s going on now?”

A reporter, face filling the screen with the most serious of

expressions and like all reporters, perfectly groomed, announced

the latest developments in the pause filled style that always ends with emphasis on the final word.

“Today is a very grave day in Runcorn. Five people are

missing and evidence points to a possible serial killer the papers are dubbing ‘The Runcorn Raker’. We’ve just learned that the

latest victim is none other than Brian Argentine, the district

sergeant.”

The camera panned down to the tail section of the car and

Honey let out an enormous cry.

“Mother! It’s Brian’s car, it’s the same one!”

Honey started to cry and Gloria froze on the spot. It wasn’t so

much as dreadful news for her but more of a rethink in strategy.

The reporter continued, the cameras zooming away to the

roadside where several rubber suited freaks stood.

“We can exclusively reveal that the gentlemen pictured here

have arrived on an altogether more mysterious mission. We have

learned that they believe it is the work of UFOs and that the first to disappear was a Mr. Derek Hill, the occupier of 42 Blossom

Meadows.”

Honey’s sobs were stunned into silence as she tried to take it

all in. “Mother, they say Derek was kidnapped by aliens.”

Gloria let out a snigger. “Don’t be stupid dear, there are no

such things as aliens!”

“But Derek is missing and how do you explain all those

disappearances?”

“I won’t hear another word, Honey, Derek is in some loony bin

by now and I say good riddance to the vile man.”

Honey stood up, her face as red as Derek’s used to be,

“Mother! How dare you, Derek is still a human being and the

father of our children.”

Gloria, the ice queen, didn’t flinch. She could make the most

dangerous Pitbull think it was a Shitzu.

“I’ll say again, there is no such thing as aliens!”

Honey stormed out of the room having resumed her tears,

leaving Gloria to stand proud of her convictions. Outside the

children were busy screaming and attracting the attentions of

something altogether slithery. Citron had bounced the ball off

Jack’s head and it had rebounded off into the bushes at the back of the garden.

“Fetch the ball, Jack, you touched it last.”

Jack, outnumbered by two, had no choice but to saunter down

the garden to retrieve the ball for another mindless game of Jack-

bashing.

He waded through the smaller bushes to where the prickly

nasty ones were and as he stooped down to pick up the ball he

noticed something very odd. It was about the size of a normal cat

in Jack’s eyes but it was hideous and slimy and its long trunk was sniffing the air about five feet away from him. Jack froze on the

spot as the creature began to bear its teeth.

“Hurry up, Jack,” called Ella, becoming impatient.

The Drakapod had never seen a human as small as this before;

it was about the size of the dog it had eaten the night before but it didn’t smell like a dog.

A shrill voice called out from the back door, “Children, get

inside now, playtime is over, time for your tea.”

Citron noticed that Jack was standing perfectly still without

any sign of a ball, he hadn’t even turned to look round which was

extremely odd indeed.

She called to him, “Jack, Nanna’s calling, leave the ball.”

Jack watched as the creature started to puff itself up to a size

that would suit a morsel as small as he, but fear had gripped his

legs and bolted him to the spot.

He was trying to cry but the tears just wouldn’t come. The

purple tentacles were bristling and slithering about like a King

Cobra and there was nothing he could do.

Suddenly a single tentacle shot out from the undergrowth in a

direct path towards the little mite and then a whip cracking sound reverberated as the poisoned barb hit out at nothing.

Jack, in that instant, had been pulled away by Citron after she

had got tired of standing there. It had missed her leg by a few

millimeters as she spun around and ran with him up the garden.

The flatulent creature blew its air out and returned to its

normal size and lay there in the bushes waiting for something to

happen. Food seemed plentiful in this habitat, the putrid creature didn’t have to venture far.



The sun was slowly dipping its feet back into the horizon as

the flowery ship pushed on looking for landfall. Derek was dozing

on the hastily constructed seat while his Korean friend was

standing on the bow like Captain Ahab.

The seas were quite calm, the planet did have its own moon

but it must have been on a wider orbit which was a blessing. The

lines of makeshift oars rowed on although the plants had no

concept of other terra firma and Chin began to wonder whether

they would all just give up at some point and resume the classic

pond lily pose.

Then something magical happened; it was only a speck at first

and Chin had written it off on his first inspection as a mirage but, as the boat got closer, it was evident that the speck was becoming a blob and then the blob was spreading out across the horizon.

Chin let out a huge bellow, “Land! Look, my friend.”

Derek awoke from his slumber, in truth he was quite glad to do

so as he was having a dream of quietly cuddling up to Norah Batty

in her garden. He rubbed his eyes for a few seconds before

realising that they may well be saved after all.

“It’s a miracle, I can’t believe it,” cried Derek. The plants

showed no emotion as they couldn’t understand it and it was still

doubtful they had eyes to take it in anyway.

Chin raced to the stern with his huge paddle and twisted it to

turn the boat towards the long strip of land that lay so tantalizingly close.

“We saved, Derek, plenty food on island, I bet.”

Derek nodded his approval. “At least a man doesn’t need to

slake his thirst; I’ll rewrite the Ancient Mariner when I find

something to write upon.”

His friend eyed him curiously, sometimes he just didn’t make

sense, like most westerners.

After a while, treetops began to pop up in abundance but, from

afar, it didn’t look anything like the island they had left, with its white wispy colours and soft creamy blue sand. This particular

island rose up stark against the horizon, with brooding colours,

jagged edges and what appeared to be black volcanic sandy

beaches.

It looked like a place where Death might take his vacation.



“Eat your sandwiches, Jack, they’ll go cold,” called Gloria.

“He can’t, Nanna, he’s frozen,” said Citron.

“Don’t be silly, it’s not that cold outside.”

Citron and Ella continued to stare at their little brother whose

face was fixed in an expression of horror. He looked like a

waxwork and it was beginning to frighten them.

“Maybe Jack saw a monster?” said Ella.

Gloria finally snapped, “I have just about had my fill of people

telling tales of aliens and monsters, none of them exist!”

Citron cut in quickly, “But Nanna, Jack saw something at the

bottom of the garden.”

As always, parents and grandparents solved every crisis by

shovelling food down their children’s throats. As they got older,

tea would take over as the sedative.

Jack remained as still as a street statue and it was becoming

clear to Gloria that he had seen something. She decided to take on a softer tone but it didn’t suit her.

“Look, children, if you eat your tea your Nanna will go down

to the bottom of the garden and scare away the silly monsters, is

that ok?”

Citron and Ella nodded and Jack tried.

Honey was still upstairs sobbing. In her heart of hearts, she

still missed Derek but she couldn’t bring herself to admit it and as for Brian, there wasn’t any love lost owing to the bouffant. If it hadn’t been for the meal his car would never had ended up in a

ditch and she began to play the guilty, ‘what if’ game.

She imagined that she could have invited him in for a nightcap

but every time she thought of his face all she could think about was the hair and so she decided to stop beating herself up about it.

She got up off the bed, her tears leaving a substantial damp

patch and walked over to the window to watch her mother walking

down the garden towards the bushes.

“What is mother doing?” she wondered to herself, as

something unbeknown to Honey and smelling like a pot of boiling

sewage and rotting cabbages lay in wait eyeing a tasty shape that

was getting bigger by the second.

It was feeling a touch of hunger at this point and began to suck

air.

Gloria could see the football lodged in the prickliest of bushes

and decided to turn back after cursing the children. The creature

began to deflate again sensing another failed attempt.

A few seconds later the shadow began to grow again, much to

the Drakapod’s excitement as Gloria, donning gardening gloves

from the shed, returned to extract the ball.

“I hate you Derek, for everything you’ve plagued me with over

these years,” she muttered to herself as she leaned into the bushes to try and pull out the half deflated football.

A flash of purple appeared across her vision and then a feeling

of paralysis quickly overcame her. Gloria was half bent over at this point and fell into the undergrowth out of sight of Honey and the

children who were peering from above and below from their

respective vantage points.

Gloria looked in horror as a huge row of pearlies revealed

themselves to her. She could see great gobs of spittle form at the corners of its disgusting, misshapen mouth.

Sadly, horror only works if the victim happens to be the most

naïve, friendly, happy go lucky person on earth, but when evil

meets evil, it inevitably cancels itself out and to anyone who ever knew Gloria, the munchfest would have been satisfying viewing.

“Silly mother, falling in the bushes,” called Honey.

“Nanna’s hopped into the bushes,” laughed the children.

After a minute however, it appeared that Nanna was not

hopping back out and Honey dashed downstairs past the gawping

children, to see what her mother was playing at.

She ran down to the bottom of the garden to where her mother

had been standing and encountered a completely empty space, just

plants and thorny things.

“Mother? Where are you?”

The bushes backed onto a solid fence where just a half chewed

hole had appeared. The ball was still stuck in the prickliness but there was no sign of Gloria.

Nothing. Zip. Nada.

The purple creature had retired having satisfied itself of a

meal, albeit a little tough, like old mutton.



The Runcorn police station was in full flow; printers,

clipboards and notepads were furiously churning out information

as Abe, with his trusted servant Ted, were trying to piece together some sort of pattern but it was proving tough.

On the wall had been arranged a giant map of the Blossom

Meadows district. At various locations were mug shots of potential victims.

The urgency had all started with Brian and his face was pinned

to number 42 as well as a rather nerdy image of Derek. The others

were dotted about in a neat circle around the impact site.

“Look at that, Roger, it all points to Derek Hill’s house but as

he is missing too we can’t pin it on him.”

Roger, the fledgling constable, was busy scratching his head,

“It doesn’t add up, Sarge.”

Ted had been promoted to senior desk sergeant and he quite

liked the reference, it had been years since he had joined the force and promotion after promotion had passed him by. He always

wondered if it was Brian’s influence or the fact that he never wore his hair like a trophy as his superior had.

“It beats me too. There must be a link somewhere, I just can’t

quite put my finger on it. Did you check the local hardware stores to see if anybody had purchased a rake within the last few weeks?”

Roger flipped open his notebook, “Too many to list, Sarge, it’s

a popular item this time of year.”

Ted was starting to panic. Abe had spoken to him earlier to tell

him he had every faith in him and if he was expecting another

promotion anytime soon, he had better come up with the goods.

Another officer poked his head round the door, “Ted, there’s a

lady on the line, a Honey Hill, says it’s urgent, shall I stall her?”

“Bloody hell, no, I’m coming right now!”

Thoughts of a Columbo style breakthrough flittered across his

mind as he picked up the receiver.

“Hello, Mrs. Hill, how can I help?”

“Please, officer, I can’t explain but something terrible has

happened!”

Ted waited for the words to roll forth but all he got was

silence, “Madam, do you have anything for me as I have to get

back to an urgent investigation.”

The sound of sobbing could be heard quite clearly on the other

end of the line as Honey tried desperately to explain.

“My mother, she was at the bottom of the garden and the next

minute she just … she just vanished!”

Slowly, a dynamo inside of Ted’s cranium began to wind up

and produce sparks; he may be enjoying the comforts of Brian’s

office after all.

“Mrs. Hill, stay where you are, we’ll send an officer around

right away to help you.”

“Thank you, officer, I knew I could count on you.”

The line clicked off and a huge smile spread across Ted’s face,

like a Cheshire cat.

“Roger, I think we have a suspect. Another person’s gone

missing and it all ties to Honey Hill. Get your car round there right away!”

Ted walked back into the operations room to pour over the

map once more. For some reason he felt like his hair had grown

two inches during the phone call.



The good ship Geranium ran aground quite gingerly on the

black shore, even the water appeared to recede rather than lap

across its wide menacing bay.

The plants stopped rowing and scurried ashore to group up in

front of the dark crimson storks that weaved like impenetrable

mangrove trees along the whole beach.

Derek and Chin stared apprehensively at each other as they

tried to imagine whether the island was as peaceful as the first;

however its darkness cast a feeling of foreboding within them and

they dared not move an inch further up the beach.

The chief hopped over to the wimpy humans cowering in the

boat and laid his leafy arms across their backs in a friendly gesture of companionship before heading back to the group.

As a thank you gesture it was like giving an elderly lady a lift

out of the pouring rain and dropping her off in a Brazilian Favela.

The tribe scurried eagerly into the undergrowth to colonise

their new land. To them all it meant nothing, but it gave Derek and Chin a new feeling of hope that maybe this place wasn’t so bad

after all, despite the gothic colour scheme.

“Listen, Chin, my friend, if anything happens to me, I want

you to know that without you being here I would have ended it all

back on the last island.”

Chin placed his hand on Derek’s shoulder and nodded his

approval, “Derek, if wasn’t for you, I would break rocks and wait

for release.”

It didn’t seem the most encouraging of speeches. If it wasn’t

for Derek he would be eating, sleeping and working until he was

reunited with his family and not facing imminent death.

Derek looked up at the heavens and cursed his God once more

for his heavy responsibilities.

They beached the boat just in case there was a need for escape

and slowly trudged up the sand which felt crunchy underfoot as if

it was just a mound of ground down bones.

It took a monumental effort to climb through the thick vine

like undergrowth to take a peek at inland. When they finally

pushed through, the words ‘pleasantly surprised’ had completely

failed to enter their minds.

Instead of a lush oasis of cascading waterfalls and the smell of

hibiscus, the only smell was a pong, a very flatulent pong at that, for the ground was a mass of swampy bogs and bubbling gas.

What plant life there was only resembled weeds rather than

gorgeous lilies or frangipani.

Derek stopped in his tracks for a few seconds, “I have a really

weird feeling about this place, it looks like something out of a

horror movie.”

Chin nodded his agreement and pulled a rather sharp looking

stick from its roots that resembled bamboo, at the end of it was a mass of thorny protrusions, like razor wire. It didn’t take long for Derek to join him as they wandered further in like caveman, feet

sucking and squelching along in the greasy mud.

There were no impressive volcanoes sitting central on this

island, whatever had been there must have exploded a long time

ago.

“Keep your eyes open for skulls, Chin, especially ones on

sticks!”

His friend squelched along, finding the ground hard to move

over but something in the distance caught his eye.

“Derek, a cave! We go there, we sleep, we look for food

tomorrow.”

Over at the far end of the swamp was a brooding rock with

several entrances, all dark and eerie but better than lying in the mud and waking up shivering like a hypothermic polar bear.

“I don’t like it one bit, my friend, but we have no choice, I

don’t know where the plants went, maybe they are all in there?”

exclaimed Derek, whose brow had instantly grown a few more

worry lines.

It was a mystery to them both … the tribe had simply

disappeared and they weren’t very far ahead of them at the outset.

As they got closer to the cave, something let out a deep throaty

roar from inside; it was so blood curdling and downright scary that they both turned tail and ran slowly for the beach once more, feet sucking and slipping in the mud.

“Jesus, Chin, run! It could be anything.”

For anyone who has ever tried running on a wet weekend at

Glastonbury without wellies, it was ridiculously hopeless and

Derek soon found himself face down in the putrified gloop.

A hand reached down and pulled him from his misery as a

worried looking Chin grabbed his arm to steer him away from the

menace within the cave.

“Derek, you smell bad, like fish too long in sun, we hurry!”

Eventually, after much effort, they managed to squeeze

through the wild vines once more and onto the dirty beach.

To their horror, they both noticed the reason why the plants

were missing in the first place.

Derek dropped to his knees in the sand and began sobbing,

“The boat, Chin, it’s gone!”

The wide-eyed Korean stood there, gob smacked, unable to

speak, it appeared that mutiny had just taken place.

“Why didn’t they wait for us, Chin? Why? We were their

friends.” cried Derek, now a blubbering wreck of a man.

Chin shook his head in disbelief, “No wood to build boat

again, we stay here now, look for food or die.”

Dying seemed like a good option when faced with a growly

monster hidden in a cave, mud for land and powdered bones for a

beach, but the human spirit was tougher than that and Chin sat

down next his friend to offer some comfort.

“Derek, we have saying in Korea, ‘When face danger close by,

best to do is pee pants and sit, wait for death’.”

Derek mentally crossed his friend off as a candidate for the

best man’s speech in case he ever got married again and carried on crying into his lap.



A stern looking officer walked up the primrose bordered path

towards Gloria’s freshly painted door. Roger, the local bobby

could hear blood curdling screaming as he got closer and

quickened his pace to reach the door bell.

He unclipped his baton, just in case, as the shouts intensified

and was ready to pounce when he saw a teary eyed woman open

the door; there was absolute mayhem as two girls were busy

chasing a smaller boy down the stairs and along the hall pretending to be the monster that ate their grandmother.

“Are you Mrs. Honey Hill?” asked the officer, who was

relieved to have not stumbled across the house of Hannibal Lecter.

A solemn looking Honey nodded back and let him in. It

seemed strange to Roger that Ted would jump at the chance to lock

her away without any hard evidence. The fact remained that there

really was no evidence to suggest she was the Runcorn Raker.

“Madam, there’s been several disappearances around this

neighbourhood in the past few weeks, can you describe to me

exactly what happened to your mother, a Ms Gloria Weaver?”

Honey’s pretty face was drowning in a wash of tears as she

tried to relate the past events but it was tough as she had nothing to describe.

“Mother went out to retrieve Jack’s ball and then she fell into

the bushes and just vanished.”

Roger stared at her for a few brief seconds, the tears seemed

genuine enough.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Hill,