The Bare Bum Gang and the Holy Grail (5 page)

I was going to tell him my theory about it being a cave-man dog, then it struck me. We were confronted by something way worse than a mere Neanderthal dog. I’ve already mentioned the list of the world’s most evil dogs, and this one was on that list for sure.

‘It was Zoltan,’ I said, ‘feared Hound of Dracula.’

‘How do you know?’

‘I saw him on the telly when we had a babysitter who let me stay up. It was so scary I made myself forget. But that’s definitely him.’

The Bare Bum Gang all nodded solemnly. Now we knew what we were up against: the evil Group 9 security machine, plus Zoltan, Hound of Dracula.

‘What now?’ said The Moan. ‘We can’t get over the fence because it’s too high, and we can’t get over the gate because that dog will eat us, and the guard will shovel up the remains and send them back to our parents in a plastic bag.’

‘Maybe we should just go and play in the den,’ said Noah.

‘I might go to my karate practice,’ said Jenny.

Jamie did a large burp.

Rude Word woofed.

For a second I weakened. The guard may have been horrid, but he did have a point about building sites. They can be dangerous places and kids shouldn’t really play there. But this was an official quest. We were on a chivalrous mission to save the Holy Grail, or maybe some golden sticks.

I took a deep breath. ‘There’s another way,’ I said.

‘In your dreams,’ said The Moan.

‘Not quite in my dreams,’ I replied. ‘More like in my nightmares.’

That got their attention.

‘Surely,’ said Noah, his voice trembling, ‘you don’t mean . . .’

‘That’s exactly what I mean.’

‘You’re crazy,’ said The Moan.

Jamie burped again, but this time his meaning was clear:
I think you’re mad too
.

‘What are you lot talking about?’ said Jenny.

‘He’s talking about the tunnel. The Tunnel of Doom,’ said The Moan.

‘Hang on,’ I said ‘I don’t think we can really call it the Tunnel of Doom.’

‘Why not? It’s a tunnel and we’re doomed if we go in it.’

‘Because we had the Valley of Doom in our last big adventure, and it makes it sound like we’ve run out of good ideas to call things.’

‘Well, what do you suggest then, clever clogs?’

‘What about the Tunnel of Terror?’

‘No.’

‘The Tunnel of Tears?’

‘No.’

‘The Tunnel of Death?’

‘Maybe. Not sure.’

‘Tunnel of Poo,’ said Jamie, his first words that weren’t in burp language for ages.

‘That’s actually not bad,’ said The Moan, ‘because in fact that’s what it is, a tunnel full of poo.’

‘Look,’ said Jenny angrily, ‘would someone please tell me what you’re talking about!’

I looked at her with my most serious face. It was the sort of face you see on the telly when the doctor has to tell someone they only have twenty-four hours to live.

‘The Tunnel of Death—’

‘Or Poo,’ said Jamie.

‘The Tunnel of
Whatever
is the old sewer that went to the little houses that used to be where the tower is. There’s a place where you can get into it
outside
the fence, and another place where you can get out of it
inside
the fence. It’s the only way.’

‘But how do you know about it?’

‘We used to do it as a dare sometimes. I mean, the dare was to go through the tunnel to the wasteland. But no one ever made it all the way. They always came back after a few metres. It was too foul down there.’

‘You always got covered in poo,’ said Jamie.

‘It wasn’t poo,’ I snapped. ‘Just brown stuff.’

‘Yeah,’ said The Moan, ‘brown stuff that came out of people’s bottoms.’

‘And you want us to go down the same stinky sewer?’ said Jenny, her eyes wide with disbelief. ‘Even though no one has ever made it all the way through? You’re crackers.’

It was time to take control again.

‘None of the kids who failed were on a noble quest like us. Remember, we’re like the Knights of King Arthur. I’m Lancelot, The Moan is Sir Gawain, Noah is Sir Galahad, Jamie is Sir . . .’ But then I ran out of Sirs.
Luckily
Noah came to the rescue.

‘Sir Tristan.’

‘Exactly, Sir Tristan. And Jennifer is Queen Guinevere.’

‘Queen Yuck!’ said Jenny. ‘I’m the best fighter, so I should be Lancelot.’

‘That’s not right,’ I replied, ‘because then I’d have to be Queen Guinevere. Let me think . . . OK, you can be Sir Gawain, Jenny, and The Moan can be Queen Guinevere.’

‘No way,’ grumbled The Moan. ‘If I’m Guinevere I’m definitely going home.’

‘Are there any other spare Sirs?’ I asked Noah in desperation.

‘Sir Bors.’

‘Sir Boring! You just made that up. No way I’m being him.’

‘He was Lancelot’s brother, actually,’ said Noah. ‘But if it makes you happy,
I’ll
be Guinevere, and
you
can be Galahad.’

‘That’s really noble, Noah,’ I said, and I think the whole gang were impressed by his supreme act of self-sacrifice. ‘Right,’ I
continued
. ‘Now that’s settled, let’s get on with this quest or we’ll never make it home in time for
Doctor Who
.’

‘Do you remember where the tunnel is?’ Noah asked.

I think that maybe he was hoping I wouldn’t.

But I did remember, and I led the gang around the perimeter fence to the right place. Between the road and the fence there was a dry ditch. The opening was in the side of the ditch. You could hardly see it to begin with, as it was covered in weeds and rubbish.

I jumped down into the ditch and scraped away the garbage. There was a rusty metal grate as big as a dustbin lid.

‘Help me,’ I said, looking up at the others.

Noah jumped down, and together we pulled. It had been opened before, but it still took both of us using every bit of strength we had to make it move. Finally it came away,
revealing
the tunnel, stretching before us into the darkness. It was just big enough to crawl through on your hands and knees.

‘I’m not going in there,’ said Jenny. ‘Not for a million pounds.’

‘Me neither,’ said The Moan. ‘It stinks like a badger’s bum.’

‘I don’t like tunnels,’ said Jamie. ‘What if I get stuck and have to live down there for ever like a rabbit? And I don’t even like carrots.’

Rude Word woofed.

‘Oh, come on,’ I said. ‘There’s nothing to be scared of.’ But I was frightened too.

And then something unexpected happened. Little Noah, famous for not being very brave, and for not liking the dark or smelly things, got down on his hands and knees and crawled into the dark smelly drain.

He looked back over his shoulder. ‘You lot coming or not?’ he said, and then crawled on without waiting.

The rest of us looked at each other. I think the others were feeling a little ashamed. First Jenny, then Jamie, then The Moan and then Rudy followed Noah into the Tunnel of Terror (I’d decided that was probably the best name for it). I was at the back, which is one of the most dangerous places to be when you’re in a tunnel, because of possible attacks from the rear.

Chapter Seven

GOING UNDERGROUND

TO BEGIN WITH
all I could see in the gloom was Rude Word’s big hairy bottom.

It actually didn’t smell that bad – I mean the sewer, not Rude Word’s bottom, which usually niffed pretty rotten, despite all the licking he gave it. It hadn’t rained for a while, so the bottom was dry. I mean the bottom of the tunnel, not Rude Word’s bottom. In fact, to avoid confusion, from now on when I mean Rude Word’s bottom, I’ll say Rude Word’s bottom, and when I mean anyone else’s bottom, or the bottom of a tunnel or any other
kind
of bottom, then I’ll just say bottom.

I hope that’s clear.

‘Everyone OK?’ I shouted.

My shout echoed along the tunnel in a most spooky manner.

‘Can’t see a thing,’ came an echoey voice back.

‘Let me through,’ I said. ‘I’ve got my torch.’

I pushed past Rude Word, The Moan, Jamie and Jennifer. It was a tight squeeze, and I ended up getting a bit stuck with Jennifer – which was pretty embarrassing, I can tell you, especially as there were about three seconds when her lips were squidged up against my cheek. Someone might have said this counted as kissing, but that would be completely unfair, as this was a matter of life and death, not just yucky girly kissing stuff.

Finally I was level with Noah.

‘Do you want to go first, with the torch?’ he asked.

I looked along the sewer. It was pitch black except for the tiniest blip of light from what must be the exit, miles away, it seemed.

‘Mmmmm,’ I said, ‘I think maybe I should shine the torch over your shoulder, so you can see where you’re going. In any underground adventure, the Torch Bearer is the most important position, and they shouldn’t be right at the front in case there’s a pit or trap or something, or a surprise attack. If anyone falls into a trap it shouldn’t be the Torch Bearer. Definitely not. Because then, er, there’d be no one to bear the torch. And no torch to bear. Which would definitely be a disaster. So you carry on being first, as you’re more dispensable.’

‘Thanks,’ said Noah, but I don’t think he meant it. In fact I think he was being sarcastic, which was all wrong. Being sarcastic was The Moan’s job.

‘I don’t mean that in a bad way, Noah,’ I said reassuringly. ‘Being dispensable is
also
one of the most important jobs, after being Torch Bearer. And Leader, of course. In fact, in any adventure, underground or overground or in mid-air, you can’t get by without the dispensable one. The dispensable one is, er, indispensable. Everyone knows that.’

‘Can we get on, please?’ said The Moan from behind us. ‘I don’t want to spend the rest of my life in this blinking hole.’

‘Yes, yes,’ I said, and gave Noah a little push.

I shone the torch over his shoulder. The walls of the sewer had once been red brick,
but
now they were blackened with dried slime and other nasty things. If you got all the tunnels in the world and put them in order of nastiness, this one was definitely in the top five per cent, although it was probably better than a tunnel bored into your brain by a creature that’s crawled into your ear.