Bumageddon: The Final Pongflict (5 page)

Zack clutched the handgrips on his pod as tightly as he could.

‘One . . .'

Zack closed his eyes.

Z
ack held his breath and waited . . . but nothing seemed to happen. He opened his eyes. ‘When do we leave?' he said.

‘We're already there!' said Ned, climbing out of his pod.

‘What do you mean?' said Eleanor, sitting up. ‘It didn't feel like we moved at all.'

‘No,' said Ned. ‘Technically speaking, we didn't move. Time moved through us.'

‘Huh?' said Eleanor, frowning.

‘We must have moved
somewhere,
' said Zack, standing in front of the bumcam monitors. ‘Look!'

Eleanor, Ned and Zack's bum came over and joined Zack at the screens.

Bumcam now consisted of a single super-sized image provided by a hidden camera mounted on the top of Robobum.

They were looking at a small inlet with a range of rocky, treeless mountains in the distance. Robobum was sitting in the middle of a large stretch of featureless mudflats.

Apart from a strong wind that buffeted Robobum's riveted steel panels, there was nothing but mudflats and water and smoking bumcanoes for as far as they could see.

There was no sign of life.

No animals.

No people.

No bums.

Nothing.

‘Where are we?' said Zack's bum.

‘I don't know,' said Eleanor, ‘but if this is 65 million BC, where are all the bumosaurs? There's not a lot of action out there.'

‘No,' said Ned, looking a little worried as he bent over his temporal navigator. ‘I think I might have made a slight miscalculation.'

‘How much of a slight miscalculation?' said Eleanor.

‘Well,' said Ned, ‘instead of going back 65 million years, we've gone back 650 million years.'

‘S
ix hundred and fifty million years!' spluttered Eleanor. ‘That is not a slight miscalculation, Ned. That is a miscalculation of major proportions!'

‘It's only an extra zero,' said Ned.

‘That extra zero makes a big difference!' said Eleanor. ‘Five hundred and eighty-five million years' worth of difference, to be exact.'

‘I told you Robobum's time travel capabilities
hadn't been tested,' said Ned, sheepishly. ‘There must be a loose screw in the temporal navigator.'

‘I think I know where the loose screw is,' said Eleanor. ‘It's . . .'

‘Take it easy, Eleanor,' said Zack. ‘I'm sure Ned's doing his best.'

‘Well this is just great, isn't it?' said Eleanor. ‘While Ned tinkers with his time travel toy, the Earth is being Bumageddonised and we're 585 million years away from being able to do anything about it.'

‘That's not technically correct,' said Zack. ‘The Earth isn't in any immediate danger of Bumageddon . . . it's not going to happen for another 650 million years. Ned's got plenty of time to figure it out.'

‘Oh, well, that's all right then,' said Eleanor. ‘In the meantime we might just as well relax and have a holiday. Anyone for a swim?'

‘I wouldn't do that if I were you,' said Zack's bum, who had been busy gazing at the screen all this time. ‘There's something moving out there.'

‘Impossible,' said Robobum. ‘Oxygen levels are too low to sustain advanced life forms.'

‘But there's something moving!' insisted Zack's bum. ‘Look, there, just at the water's edge.'

‘Move in for a closer look, Robobum,' said Ned.

With a barely audible sigh, Robobum slowly moved forwards. As she did so, the bum-fighters were amazed to see movement in the mud. There was a small shape wriggling on the surface.

‘That's close enough, Robobum,' said Ned. ‘Whatever it is, we don't want to alarm it.'

‘I hate to say I told you so,' said Zack's bum, ‘but I told you so.'

‘I stand corrected,' said Robobum. ‘We are witnessing one of the earliest, most primitive forms of life on the planet.'

‘What is it?' said Zack.

‘I do not know,' said Robobum. ‘Insufficient data.'

‘We can fix that,' said Eleanor. In an instant she had been transformed from a frustrated bum-fighter into an eager scientist. She grabbed one of the extravehicular bum-fighting suits hanging up next to the teleportation tube.

‘What are you doing, Eleanor?' said Zack.

‘You heard Robobum,' said Eleanor. ‘She needs data. I'm going out to take a closer look. Six hundred and fifty million years takes us right into the heart of the geological period known as the Pre-Cambrian. There are not a whole lot of fossils dating back this far—and it's not like we'll be here again. It's too good an opportunity to miss. The more data that Robobum—and we—have, the better our chances of success.'

‘If you survive long enough to gather the data, that is,' said Ned. ‘I wouldn't leave the ship if I were you.'

‘Yeah?' said Eleanor. ‘Well, you're not me, Ned. Besides, how dangerous can it be out there? It's got to be a lot safer than where we just came from.'

‘Guess I'd better come with you, then,' sighed Zack. He knew it was no use arguing with Eleanor.

‘Which means I'll have to come to look after you both,' said Zack's bum.

Zack smiled. ‘Thanks,' he said. ‘I knew I could count on you. Ned?'

Ned was already climbing into his suit. ‘If you think I'm going to let you crazy kids go out there on your own, you need your heads read. Robobum—you're in charge. If there's any sign of trouble I want you to beam us up straight away.'

‘Affirmative,' said Robobum.

A
strong wind greeted the bum-fighters as they teleported onto the grey sludge of prehistoric Earth. They leaned into the squall and began squelching across the ancient mudflats.

‘Can I ride on your shoulder, Zack?' said his bum. ‘I'm tired.'

‘But we've only just started,' said Zack. ‘How can you be tired?'

‘My legs aren't as big—or as strong—as yours,' it said.

‘Okay,' said Zack, bending down. ‘Climb aboard.'

‘It's amazing,' said Eleanor. ‘The whole Earth. All new. Completely unspoiled.'

‘I wouldn't be so sure of that,' said Ned.

‘Why?' said Zack.

‘Our friend in the mud, there,' said Ned, pointing. ‘See the little crease running from top to bottom? If I didn't know better, I'd say it was a . . . bum.'

As they closed in on it, Eleanor put out her arm to stop Zack and Ned. ‘Slow and quiet,' she said. ‘Let's not disturb it unnecessarily. It doesn't look dangerous, but you never know.'

They nodded and moved the last few metres towards the primitive life form in silence.

At first glance Zack thought it was a jellyfish. Then, when he looked closer, it appeared to be
two
jellyfish, but without tentacles, just four stumpy little protuberances. And then, like a magic 3D picture coming into focus, the two jellyfish globes merged into one single organism and Zack realised what he was actually looking at. The two halves were joined with a crevice running through the middle. Ned was right. It was a bum. Primitive and barely formed, but unmistakeably a bum.

Eleanor let out a long breath. ‘So, Sir Roger Francis Rectum was right,' she said.

‘About what?' said Zack.

‘Bumolution!' she said. ‘His theory was that the first life forms were bums. Look—you can see the little stumps that will one day be arms and legs. Sir Roger was ridiculed for his beliefs by the scientific community of his time, but he was right. We evolved from bums, Zack.'

‘I like that theory!' said Zack's bum.

‘It's not a theory anymore,' said Eleanor. ‘It's now an official fact. At least it will be once I've taken a photograph.'

‘I wouldn't do that if I were you,' said Ned. ‘The flash might disturb it.'

‘I don't think so,' said Eleanor. ‘A life form this primitive won't have any visual receptors. They don't evolve for at least another 100 million years.'

Before Ned could stop her, Eleanor took a small camera out of her pocket and took a photo, bathing the primeval bum in a momentary flash of bright white light.

T
he reaction was instant.

The bum flipped up and over onto its back, its stumps wiggling crazily.

‘Stand back!' said Ned. ‘It may not have an eye, but it's got heat sensors.'

The bum-fighters gave the bum a wide berth as it continued its agonised flipping. But as it flipped, it revealed that it was protecting a small clutch of white eggs. And whether it was due to the flipping of the bum, the heat of the camera's flash or whether it was just the right time to do so, they were beginning to hatch.

The bum-fighters stood and watched in wonder as dozens of the eggs cracked open and a clutch of tiny jelly-like bums emerged. All except one, which, unlike
its brothers and sisters, was not see-through jelly, but a pure gleaming white.

‘Look at that!' said Zack. ‘It's a mutant!'

Eleanor clutched his arm. ‘It's
white,
Zack,' she said. ‘Do you realise what we're looking at?'

‘Yes,' said Zack, ‘a mutant. That's how bumolution works, isn't it? Little mutations to the basic patterns that give an organism an advantage—or a disadvantage, as the case may be.'

‘Definitely a disadvantage in this case,' said Ned.

‘I don't understand,' said Zack.

‘Gee, you can be thick, Zack,' said Eleanor.
‘It's the Great White Bum!'

‘I think that's jumping to conclusions, isn't it?' said Zack. ‘Out of all the primeval mudflats in all the possible years that we could have landed in, we touch down right in the exact spot at the exact time that the Great White Bum is being hatched? You've got to be joking!'

But a glance at the terrified faces of his companions told Zack that he was in the minority on this one.

‘Stranger things have happened,' said Eleanor.

Not many,
thought Zack, as he stared at the small white bum. And then an idea began to form in his mind.

An idea so huge that he could hardly contain it in his head.

An idea so daring that only one bum-fighter on the planet could possibly have conceived it, let alone considered it.

What if,
he thought,
what if I killed the Great White Bum right now? Killed it in the nest. Killed it before it had a chance to grow up and do all the evil
that it was going to do. There would be no enormous bumcanoes capable of gassing the entire world. No zombie bum invasions.

And, most important of all, no Bumageddon.

Of course, there would be no such thing as bum-fighters, either, but Zack realised this was not about him.

This was bigger than all of them.

This was about the future of the entire world.

Hadn't the Blind Bum-feeler predicted this?

Hadn't she told him that he would be the saviour of free men everywhere . . . past, present and future?

To what else, apart from this moment, could she possibly have been referring?

Zack put his bum down on the ground. He drew his bum-gun from his bum-fighting utility belt and raised it to his shoulder.

‘Z
ack!' yelled Eleanor. ‘What do you think you're doing?'

‘We have to kill it,' said Zack.

‘No!' said Ned.

‘What do you mean, “no”?' said Zack. ‘One shot now could prevent a lot of suffering and save millions
of lives in the future. It's the Great White Bum. Or at least its father. Or its father's father.'

‘Or its father's father's father,' said Zack's bum helpfully.

‘Whatever,' said Zack. ‘I have to kill it. Now. While there's still time.'

‘But it hasn't done anything wrong,' said Ned. ‘Not yet. You would be killing an innocent bum.'

‘But it's not going to
stay
innocent!' said Zack. ‘We
know
that! That's why we're here!'

‘No,' said Ned. ‘That's
not
why we're here. We came back for one reason and one reason only: to prevent the Great White Bum from sending prehistoric Great White Bums into the future and upsetting the natural bumolution of the planet. We didn't come to strip it—or any other carbon-based life form—of its right to life. I don't like the idea of bum rebellion or bumcanoes or zombie bums any more than you do, but if we kill it now we'll be no better than the Great White Bum himself.'

‘Great White Bums killed my parents, Ned,' said Zack. ‘Great White Bums killed your parents, Eleanor. And they destroyed our planet. Doesn't that count for anything?'

‘Of course it does, Zack,' said Ned. ‘But it doesn't change the fact that this is not our decision to make.'

‘If it's not ours then whose is it?' said Zack.

‘Nobody's!' said Ned. ‘It's too big a change. Sure, you might get rid of the Great White Bum, but there's no telling what else you might change—or create—in the process. You might create the conditions for the emergence of a monster that makes the Great White
Bum look as harmless as a pussycat! Don't try to play God, Zack.'

‘I never said I was God,' said Zack. ‘I'm just a bum-fighter and I've got a bum to fight.'

‘I agree with Ned,' said Eleanor. ‘I don't like the Great White Bum any more than you do, but two wrongs don't make a right.'

‘True,' said Zack. ‘But a stitch in time saves nine. How many more people have to die? How many more planets have to be destroyed before we take action?'

‘That's enough,' said Ned. ‘I order you to put your gun down immediately, Zack. I can see why you want to do what you want to do, but you could be introducing catastrophic time travel errors which I cannot allow myself—or any of us—to be responsible for.'