The Swiss Family RobinZOM (Book 2) (6 page)

“No,” Bill said. “Absolutely not.”

“But I’ll train her,” Fritz said.

“You’ve never trained an animal before,” Bill said.

“Everyone has to start somewhere,” Fritz said.

“She might turn out to be a duck for all you know,” Bill said.

“I don’t think many ducks nest fifty feet up in a tree, Dad,” Fritz said.

“Did you see her fall?” Bill said.

“No.”

“Then how can you know she fell from anywhere?” Bill said.

Liz turned to Bill.

“I would like to cook some dishes with birds,” she said. “I’m not sure how we’d be able to catch them otherwise, do you?”

“We could set traps,” Bill said.

“And they’ve worked well so far,” Fritz said. “I just think we should consider different ways of catching them. Beauty could be really useful for our life on the island.”

“You’ve already named her?” Bill said.

Fritz shrugged.

“She’s going to be a great addition to our family, you’ll see,” he said. He gulped. He could see Bill was on the fence. “And if she doesn’t turn out to be of much use I’ll give her to Mum to cook.”

Bill sighed and shook his head.

“These aren’t the feet of a duck,” Ernest said. “Or of any other land-based bird. They’re talons. She’ll grow into a hunter.”

“There you go!” Fritz said.

“We can’t spare the food to feed her,” Bill said.

“She can have some of mine,” Fritz said. “When she grows she’ll be able to catch her own food, and ours too. She’ll catch things twice her size and we’ll be able to have pheasant and duck and pigeon and whatever else she brings us.”

Bill pressed his lips together.

“All right,” he said. “Fine. Keep it.”

“Yes!” Fritz said.

“I’m not finished,” Bill said. “You’re responsible for her. You’ll raise her, hand rear her, train her. If when she’s fully grown she can’t hunt she’ll be on the menu.”

Fritz smiled and stroked the head of the little chick. A thin trickle of yellow dribbled between his fingers.

“First lesson, toilet training,” Bill said.

“She’s just excited,” Fritz said, turning to leave.

“Can I have a pet too?” Jack said.

“Definitely not,” Bill said.

“How come Fritz can have one?” Jack said.

“He’s older,” Bill said. “When you’re Fritz’s age, come ask me again.”

“But we might not be here by then!” Jack said.

“You’d better hope we’re not,” Bill said. “In which case I’ll get you a pet turtle.”

“Not a turtle,” Jack said. “Turtles are boring.”

“Exactly,” Bill said.

“I want an ostrich, or a tiger, or something I can ride,” Jack said.

“How about a bike?” Bill said. “I’ll put feathers on it for you.”

Jack stomped away.

Jack kicked a tree in impotent rage. He turned to look at the treehouse, where he knew his father to be, and with deliberate movement placed his foot in the jungle. He smiled, poking his tongue out at the treehouse.

Scree!

Jack started, hopping out of the jungle.

The scream came again. Somewhere deep in the jungle. It pierced Jack to the soul. He turned to look back at the treehouse. His mother hadn’t entered the jungle, had she?

Scree!

The scream was high pitched, terrified and scared. With just a moment’s hesitation, Jack turned and ran into the jungle. A surprised family of rodents turned and took off into the bushes. Jack leapt over a fallen log.

Scree!

It came from his right. Jack jumped, his foot finding a tree trunk. He pushed himself off it, forcing himself to the right. He reached up, his hands finding a clutch of vines. He swung forward, the momentum taking him up. He pulled with his arms and threw himself forward, hitting the low-hanging branch of a tree with his stomach. He grunted and let himself fall to the ground.

He peered around, waiting for the scream to come again, trying to recall from which direction he’d heard it. Was he too late?

Scree!

Jack burst forward and crashed through a bush in front of him, the leaves whipping the exposed skin on his arms, face and neck. Jack skidded to a stop.

The snake’s head, jet black with red triangular pattern on its nose, turned to look at him. Its forked tongue flicked up and down rapidly, and then drew back inside its thick lips. The folds on either side of its head expanded, making its head seem to quadruple in size. Its muscular body tensed, drawing itself up taller, up to Jack’s sternum.

Jack’s eyes flickered to the small figure behind the snake, pressed up against the rock. A baby capuchin monkey with a tuft of yellow hair on its head stared up at Jack with big eyes. Beside it were the curled black finger-like toes of an adult capuchin, protruding from under a fern, unmoving. The baby capuchin made a soft mewling noise. The snake turned toward it.

“Hey!” Jack said.

The snake snapped back to look at Jack. It coiled itself up, placing itself between the monkey and Jack, who cautiously approached.

Jack kept his eyes fixed firmly on the snake, its eyes black and dead as night. The rattle on the end of its tail shook, loud and clear, a warning that chilled Jack to the bone. Jack reached for a stick he saw out the corner of his eye, never taking his eyes off the snake.

The snake pulled its head back and struck fast, but Jack was ready, and swung the stick up, connecting with the snake’s head, knocking it to the side. It bounced back like it was on a spring. It shook its head, recovering from the blow. Jack held the stick in his hands, legs feeling like they were moving in treacle.

The snake leaned back, coiling its body up for another strike. It snapped forward. Jack raised the stick to strike the snake again, but knew he’d moved too early. The snake closed its jaws around the stick and pulled with surprising strength. Jack kept hold of it, but stumbled forward. The snake released the stick and shot straight down for Jack’s exposed ankle.

Jack pulled his leg back just in time – the snake smacking its head on the ground. Jack swung the stick, striking the snake around the head. Once, twice, three times.

The snake unfurled its body and slithered into the undergrowth. Jack held the stick out, waiting for the snake to make another attack. Jack had seen too many horror films to believe that was the end. He held the stick out, aimed at the underbrush where the snake had slithered.

Jack took a few steps back, toward the monkey, which leaned away from him and griped the fur of the adult lying on the ground. Jack poked the adult monkey, but she did not respond. Her skin felt cold.

“Come on,” Jack said, reaching for the baby capuchin. “I’ll take care of you.”

Jack took him in his arms. The capuchin kept his eyes on his fallen mother until long after she disappeared from sight. He made a soft
maw
ing sound, peering around for something that was no longer there.

Jack stood on the edge of the jungle clearing, watching as Fritz and Ernest headed into the treehouse. Jack took off his jacket and wrapped it around the baby capuchin, keeping it warm. He hugged it against his chest.

Jack waited a moment longer and then stole across the open space. He leaned against the tree, his back to the bark. The capuchin made soft mewling noises and reached up with its tiny hands for Jack’s face.

“Sh,” Jack said, pressing the monkey’s tiny hands back inside the jacket. “Not now.”

“Have you seen Jack?” Liz’s voice said from inside the treehouse.

Jack looked up through a thin crack in the branches. Liz’s back was to him. She was addressing Fritz and Ernest.

“No,” Fritz said. “Not since dinner.”

“Ernest?” Liz said.

“Me neither,” Ernest said.

“When he comes back make sure to tell me,” Liz said.

Liz walked to the edge of the landing and stood there a moment, looking out at the jungle. Jack reached up and tugged on Liz’s skirt. She appeared not to have noticed, so he tugged harder. Jack waved his fingers under the landing and waited. Liz’s head popped over the edge.

“Jack?” she said. “What are you doing? It’s bedtime.”

Jack beckoned her to join him.

“I haven’t got time to play games,” Liz said. “Get ready for bed.”

“Please, come here,” Jack said.

Liz sighed and shook her head.

“Fine,” she said, climbing down the ladder. “But don’t for a second think you’re going to stay up late.”

She joined Jack under the landing.

“What is it?” she said.

Jack put his finger to his lips.

“Sh,” he said.

“What is it, Jack?” Liz said, not lowering her voice.

Jack opened his jacket, revealing the baby capuchin. Liz started back.

“What is that?” she said. “A rat?”

The baby monkey squirmed in Jack’s arms.

“Quiet!” Jack said. “You’re scaring him!”

“
I’m
scaring
him
?” Liz said. “I nearly had a heart attack!”

“It’s a baby monkey,” Jack said.

“Jack, you’ve gone too far this time,” Liz said.

“I can take care of him,” Jack said.

“In Switzerland when you misbehaved we put up with it because it’s a part of growing up,” Liz said. “We knew you were never going to get into any real trouble. But we’re on an island now, an island brimming with dangerous creatures. You have to learn to listen to us.”

“I thought he was you,” Jack said.

“Thanks,” Liz said. “That makes me feel better. You can’t just take a baby from its family, Jack. What were you thinking? Go take him back.”

“I didn’t take him from his nest,” Jack said. “He was about to be attacked by a snake.”

“A snake?” Liz said. “Where did you find him?”

“In the jungle,” Jack said.

“The jung-?” Liz shook her head. “So not only did you steal a monkey but you went into the jungle – alone – to do it? Your father isn’t going to be happy about this. Take him back before his mother notices he’s gone.”

“His mother’s dead,” Jack said with tears in his eyes. “She died trying to protect him. I found him before the snake got him too. I didn’t steal him. If I left him he would be dead. I shouldn’t have just left him, should I?”

Liz was surprised by Jack’s emotional outburst.

“No,” she said. “You shouldn’t have. You know these things have nits, diseases?”

“I’ll pick his nits tomorrow,” Jack said.

“No, you’ll do it tonight,” Liz said. “And give him a bath. You’re not bringing him into the house until he’s clean.”

“So, I can keep him?” Jack said.

“Yes, you can keep him,” Liz said. “But you’re going to have to explain it to your brothers. I’ll tell your father. But not tonight. He’s already reeling from the bird. If he thinks he’s raising a zoo he’ll explode.”

The baby monkey reached up for Jack’s T-shirt and squeezed.

“Ow!” Jack said. “He keeps squeezing my nipple!”

“He must be hungry,” Liz said. “I’ll fix him something to eat.”

She went to a box of random items that had washed up on the shore. She came out with a cracked baby bottle. She rinsed it with water and then added some coconut milk.

“I never thought I’d have need for another one of these things,” Liz said, handing over the baby bottle.

“What do I do with it?” Jack said.

“Just give it to him,” Liz said. “He’ll know what to do.”

Jack gave the capuchin the bottle. The baby took hold of it in his tiny hands and began sucking.

“Doesn’t seem to mind it’s coconut’s milk, does he?” Liz said. “Are you sure you want to look after him? It’s going to take a lot of work. He’ll live for years and years.”

“I’m sure,” Jack said.

He looked down at the little monkey like a father with his new born.

“What are you going to call him?” Liz said.

“Nips,” Jack said. “I’m going to call him Nips.”

Liz smiled.

“The perfect name,” she said.

“It’s a rabbit!” Ernest said. “The trap worked! We caught one! And it’s still alive!”

“Excellent,” Fritz said.

He opened the latch on the top, reached in and grabbed the rabbit by the scruff of the neck. The rabbit tried in vain to bite the hand that held him. His legs kicked with powerful thrusts.

“Feisty, isn’t he?” Ernest said. “Cute little guy though.”

“He’ll look even cuter with some gravy over him, beside some freshly boiled garden peas and carrots,” Fritz said, licking his lips.

“Tomorrow I’ll make two more traps,” Ernest said.

“Don’t make too many,” Fritz said. “The jungle needs to keep some of its wildlife.”

Ernest beamed.

“Let’s get back to the treehouse,” he said. “Show everyone what we caught.”

“No, no, no,” Fritz said. “We can’t.”

“Why not?” Ernest said.

“What’ll be the first question out of Father’s mouth?” Fritz said.

“ ‘Where did you get it from?’” Ernest said.

“Swiftly followed by, ‘How?’” Fritz said.

“We could say we found it,” Ernest said.

“Father would never let us eat it,” Fritz said. “He’ll think it died of a disease.”

“Then we’ll say we caught it in one of the wooden traps,” Ernest said.

“Oh?” Fritz said. “Just going for a little stroll in the forbidden jungle alone, were we?”

“Good point,” Ernest said. “We catch a succulent rabbit like this, and we can’t eat it?”

“I didn’t say that,” Fritz said.

“Then what do you suggest?”