The Swiss Family RobinZOM (Book 5) (2 page)

They must survive.

She bent down and put her teeth to the flesh of one of her broken legs. She bit down hard and tore out a chunk of flesh. She tasted the iron of her blood and let it wash over her teeth and snout. She felt the warmth leave her body and spill onto the earth. Her children squeaked in confusion and fear.

Her blood drenched the earth beneath her and turned it into a thick sludge. The scent of her blood was intense and overpowering in the close near-darkness. Her children’s weeping protests subsided and a change came over them, of rapt attention and the focus she associated with the hunt. Their eyes shone.

When they came to her, it was with caution, the way she had taught them. They sniffed at the blood weeping from her leg and licked it up. It had been a while since they had had good meat. One of her children scratched at her underbelly, at first hesitantly, and then with greater confidence, nipping at her soft skin. They bit at her stomach and tore it open so her entrails spilled over the ground. The mother rat held her squeaks and groans inside as best she could, not wishing to distract her children from their meal.

Her children made light happy squeaking sounds, their hunger satiated by her sacrifice. It was music to her ears. But the pain was unbearable. Black spots danced in her vision and she felt lightheaded.

Her eldest child, the smartest and strongest, came to her, looking deep into her pain-filled eyes. Then he sniffed at her exposed neck. He lifted her head to get to the soft flesh under her chin. The sweet spot. He felt at the fur there, running his teeth over her oesophagus, finding just the right place to bite, and then he did. The mother felt rather than heard the crunch. The mother rat’s breath came in gasps out of her throat. The pain stopped and was replaced with a faint fuzzy feeling.

She gurgled the last of her lifeblood, letting the warmth pool out of her and into the bodies of her children. Her head fell to one side, her eyes rolling into the back of her head. Her children, unconcerned with their mother’s passing, gorged on her tender body.

They would survive.

Ernest couldn’t quite understand how a small island had come to have so much diversity. Either a ship full of animals on the way to a zoo had run aground on the island, or the animals had somehow flocked to the island intentionally to escape the Great Flood. The animals squawked, bleated and hooted, each member of the Robinson family trying to keep them calm.

Fritz held the reins of Lightfoot the donkey and Lightning the zebra. They were relatively calm, but shifted side to side when Clementine the ostrich pulled at her harness held by Jack. Valiant the bull stood perfectly still as Francis fed him lush green grass from the palm of his hand. The team of four goats, lashed to a small chariot, peered at the grass in Francis’s hand with longing, licking their lips. Herdy the hippo looked out at the seashore with the same longing, but was held back by Liz.

“Okay everyone,” Bill said, standing before them all. “Listen up! Welcome to the first ever New Switzerland Wild Wacky Races. Contestants will race around the sandy beach of the island, picking up their coloured flags as they go. Failure to do so will result in a one-minute time penalty for each flag. The person with the shortest time by the end of the race wins. Everyone with me so far?”

“After hearing the rules a dozen times I doubt any of us aren’t,” Fritz said.

“Good,” Bill said. “But there’s something you don’t know: ‘What will be the victor’s prize?’ I hear you say.”

“I didn’t hear anyone say that…” Fritz said.

“This isn’t just a race without consequence,” Bill continued. “This is a race for the holiest of holies.”

He picked up a fruit pie from a table with a chequered cloth.

“A fruit pie made by our very own gourmet chef, Elizabeth Robinson,” he said. “Please take a bow.”

Liz rolled her arm like a royal, and bowed low.

“To decide who rides which noble steed, we’re going to draw sugarcanes,” Bill said.

He took some short canes from off the table. Each was of a similar length but had an image of a different animal etched on the bottom. Bill held them out, keeping the images covered with his hands. Liz chose first, then Jack, Ernest, Francis and Fritz. Bill kept hold of the remaining cane.

“Yes!” Liz said, holding her sugarcane up triumphantly.

“Who did you get?” Bill said.

“Lightning!” Liz said, turning to the zebra. “How about you?”

Bill looked at his own sugarcane. It had the image of a goat on it.

“Not bad,” Bill said.

“Oh, man!” Jack said. “Herdy’s never going to win this race!”

Herdy the hippo flapped her ears like she was trying to fly.

“You never know,” Bill said.

“I do,” Jack said. “She’s never going to win!”

Ernest looked with apprehension at Valiant the bull.

“At least you know you’re going to get to the end of the race in one piece,” he said to Jack. “Valiant is just as likely to toss me aside as carry me.”

“I’ve got Clementine,” Francis said, brushing the feathers of the ostrich.

“She’s a strong contender,” Bill said. “Just make sure to hang on. She might be a bit hard to control.”

Francis touched the flesh of Clementine’s neck. She
gwek
ed.

“I think we’ll be all right,” Francis said.

The boys stroked their animals and kept them calm, whispering words of support in their ears. Clementine the ostrich pecked at Francis’s hair, apparently finding something delicious there.

Ernest approached Valiant, who snorted, his nostrils opening wide. He turned away.

“This hardly seems fair,” Ernest said. “Francis. Would you be up for a swap?”

“Maybe,” Francis said. “What are you going to give me?”

“Isn’t Valiant enough?” Ernest said.

“No,” Francis said.

“Come on, look at him!” Ernest said. “He’s big and strong.”

“Nah,” Francis said.

“I thought you loved him?” Ernest said.

“I do, but I ride him a lot,” Francis said. “It’ll be good to try something else for a change.”

“All right,” Ernest said with a sigh. “What do you want?”

“If you win, I want half of the fruit pie,” Francis said.

“What?” Ernest said. “You must be having a laugh!”

Francis shrugged.

“No deal, then,” he said, climbing onto the back of Clementine, tucking his feet under her wings.

Ernest approached Valiant, who waved his head side to side in a menacing display. Ernest’s insides turned to water.

“All right!” Ernest said. “Half the pie if I win.”

“Done,” Francis said.

“I certainly have been,” Ernest grumbled.

Fritz climbed up onto Lightfoot’s back. The donkey swished his tail against offending flies.

“Swap with me,” Jack said to Fritz.

“Lightfoot in exchange for Herdy?” Fritz said. “Don’t make me laugh!”

“Herdy’s got a superpower,” Jack said.

“Oh yeah?” Fritz said. “What’s that? The ability to move slower than any other creature here?”

“No,” Jack said, thrusting his chin out. “She can swim through water.”

“So can Lightfoot,” Fritz said, riding him to the start line.

“Herdy can do it faster!” Jack said.

“As ninety-nine percent of this course is on land I don’t think that’s going to help much,” Fritz said. “Sorry, Jack. You drew the short sugarcane this time.”

Jack turned to Bill and Liz and opened his mouth.

“Don’t even try,” Liz said.

“But-” Jack said.

“You’ll just have to try your hardest,” Bill said.

Francis approached Valiant the bull. Valiant nodded his head and snorted through his nostrils in excitement. He bent down low and raised his leg so Francis could climb more easily onto the saddle on his broad back. Francis patted the beast on the top of the head. Valiant raised and lowered his head in obvious contentment.

Ernest grumbled under his breath and checked Clementine’s harness, who pecked at the top of Ernest’s head. He protected himself with his hands. Then Clementine pecked at his fingers.

“Everyone to the start line!” Bill said.

They each got on their animals and headed to the start – an invisible line between two posts. They put their sugarcanes to their lips, sucked the sweet liquid inside, and tossed them aside.

“Liz, will you do the honours?” Bill said from his chariot tethered to four goats.

“Certainly,” Liz said.

She rode Lightning to the start line. Everyone tensed, preparing for a quick start.

“Ready,” she said. “Steady…”

Lightning leapt forward and raced across the start line.

“Go!” Liz said.

“Cheater!” Ernest said, but Liz didn’t stop.

The others took off, in Liz’s dust. The ground dropped under them, down at a sharp angle. Lightning and the other hoofed animals barely altered their speed as they ran down the incline, gaining speed and zipping along the hard-packed earth. Clementine was slower, taking her time down the flint rock, her wide feet not well-suited to the slippery flint.

Bill snapped his reins, overtaking Liz on his goats, who were built for such terrains. The incline flattened out and the goats pulled ahead, heading toward Family Bridge that crossed the white water rapids of the river below. Bill took careful aim and slowed down to cross it, the wheels rumbling over the wood.

Then it was Liz’s turn. Lightning’s hooves clip-clopped across the bridge’s surface. Then Fritz crossed on Lightfoot, then Francis on Valiant, the bridge creaking and flexing under the bull’s weight, then Ernest, and finally Jack, on Herdy the hippo who was good neither on the steep incline nor the flat of the bridge.

“Come on!” Jack shouted to Herdy to coax more speed out of her. “Go!”

Once Ernest crossed the bridge he saw the whole Robinson family, save Jack, spread out before him. Ernest clucked his tongue and leaned forward. Clementine stretched out her legs, extending her loping strides. Once she got into a rhythm it didn’t feel like she was even really trying, using the bounce and momentum to push her through into the next stride. Before Ernest knew it they had caught up with the other riders.

First Ernest came to Francis. The bull was quick, but his sheer weight and bulk was too much for him to move very fast. Ernest powered past him and was rewarded with a frown on Francis’s face. The straight continued on for some way, the sea washing against the shore to their left.

Fritz stuck close to the edge of the sea, on the wet sand. Ernest realised the wisdom of this as it provided an easier path for the animal. Ernest pulled Clementine in behind Fritz and felt the immediate impact of entering his slipstream. Clementine ran even faster, and Ernest pulled her out to run alongside Fritz, who was using his rocking bodyweight to force Lightfoot the donkey on as fast as he could. Fritz scowled as Ernest pulled ahead into third place.

Bill and Liz were battling for first place, each edging forward ahead of the other. Bill was in front, and then Liz, and then Bill again. They snapped their reins to coax more speed out of their animals, but they appeared to be equally weighted.

Wet sand splattered up Ernest’s front. Clementine
gwek
ed, insulted. Ernest pulled her to one side, out of the slipstream offered by Lightning, forfeiting it in exchange for a better chance of staying clean and keeping Clementine happy. She was travelling at about the same speed as Lightning, who, true to his name, kept up the punishing speed.

Then Ernest drew up alongside Lightning. Liz lay crouched down over her mane, the hair tickling her face, mimicking the low position the zebra had as she ran. Ernest ducked his head down as low as he could, the wind pushing his hair back from his face, drying the sweat that accumulated in the humid heat.

Thankfully Clementine was faster than either the goats or Lightning, and she raised her head up high in the cumbersome ostrich style and powered past them, having to make a short diversion onto the dry sand in the process.

“Wooohooo!” Ernest said, raising his arms up in the air as he took first place.

The beach rounded to the right, and they approached the west coast. Ahead, the beach pinched into a narrow lane. The sea washed in and almost touched a small tree with half a dozen coloured flags hanging from its branches like ripe fruit. Without even breaking stride, Ernest reached up and grabbed a yellow flag, tucking it into his pocket.

Bill did likewise, snapping a purple flag off the tree. Liz grabbed a pink one. The green flag had become dislodged and lay half covered in the sand. Fritz lowered himself in his saddle, scooping it up mid-stride, and righted himself. Francis and Jack were still halfway back down the straight.

Clementine
gwek
ed with excitement, relishing the feeling of stretching out her legs. Ernest pulled back on the reins, slowing Clementine down for fear of her overexerting herself. There was still a long way to go and he had best not exhaust the ostrich’s stamina.

“No!”

Ernest peered back over his shoulder. Bill’s chariot pulled toward the verge. He tugged on the reins, but the goats kept veering to the side. Ernest could see the reason for their distraction: the wet, succulent green tufts of the jungle. Bill lost his battle with the goats altogether. They pulled over and lowered their heads, chomping on the grass. Bill screamed and shouted at the goats to no effect. The goats happily chomped away.

All the way down the west coast Ernest pulled away from the rest of the family, gaining a healthy lead. It was only Liz on Lightning who managed to keep up with him, but even she had fallen behind until she was only a blot on the landscape.

Ernest and Clementine rounded the northwest corner of the island, a protrusion into the dark navy sea. Liz and the rest of the family disappeared from view. The world had turned silent and, it seemed to Ernest, less jovial.

The path now split in two: one wound right, diverging into the jungle, leading through swampland. It was shorter than the second route but would require a lot more energy to traverse. Clementine was not made for such terrain. Ernest played it safe and headed down the longer left-hand road that followed the shore. Let the others take unnecessary risks, Ernest thought. With a decent lead he could afford to take his time.

Clementine flew over the sand, her long legs making it look easy. Ernest rolled his neck, making it pop. He was sat perched on Clementine in a most uncomfortable position, as ostriches weren’t made to be ridden by humans, especially for long periods of time. Ernest estimated they were halfway through the course. He was confident he could maintain his lead until the end.

Then the path made a turn, a kink in its route that led back into the jungle a short distance. The canopy overhead dropped down low, providing shade, the branches interwoven like an old man’s arthritic fingers. It was nice, reminding Ernest of another time, a time when short Sunday drives in the country were common, and he and his family would stop off somewhere, get ice cream, and walk amongst the trees and woodland. Flags were attached to the underside of the copse. He reached up and took the yellow flag down, tucking it into his pocket.