Caveman Bash Page 2

  And then without another word she strode off.

  ‘Don’t go,’ Napoleon called. ‘Have you seen my brother? He’s got big feet and a loud voice.’

  Asha turned back briefly. ‘Tunkoo,’ she said, then beckoned to him with a toss of her head, and ran off.

  Napoleon raced after her. ‘COME BACK!’ he shouted.

  Napoleon followed Asha to her camp. The people of the tribe were gathered around a big bison they had just killed.

  When they saw Napoleon, they crowded around him, sniffng him as the girl had done, touching, poking – even pinching him.

  ‘Excellent DNA samples,’ said Skin. ‘We will be able to construct the entire Neanderthal genome from this.’

  ‘Excuse me,’ said Napoleon to one of the Neanderthals. ‘I’m looking for my brother Monty. He’s about this high.’ Napoleon gestured with his hands.

  But the man grabbed his arm and pushed him across to the bison. It had only just been killed, and the people hadn’t cut it up yet.

  They squatted around the animal and began singing. It seemed a sad song, and many cried as they sang.

  ‘They are saying sorry to the animal for killing it,’ Skin reported. ‘But they may also be thanking it for giving them food. Language analysis is diffcult at this point.’

  When the singing stopped, Asha went up to the bison and rested her hands on it. ‘Tunkoo,’ she said.

  ‘Tunkoo, tunkoo,’ repeated everyone in the tribe.

  Then one of the men stood. He looked important, as if he might be a chief. He sliced a hunk of raw meat from the animal and handed it to Napoleon.

  ‘Me?’ Napoleon gulped. ‘You want me to eat that?’

  ‘It is a great honour,’ said Skin. ‘You must not hurt their pride or insult them.’

  ‘But it’s not even cooked,’ said Napoleon. ‘I only like meat in one of mum’s stews!’

  He shook his hands at the man. ‘Thank you but I had a really huge breakfast,’ he said, patting his tummy.

  But the man kept pushing the meat at him. Everyone was silent. Waiting.

  Eventually Napoleon took the bloody piece of meat. ‘Tunkoo,’ he said, trying not to look at it.

  He lifted the meat to his face, closed his eyes, pinched his nostrils and slowly opened his mouth.

  This is my mum’s beef stew, he said to himself. There are potatoes and peas and tomatoes, and it tastes delicious. I’ll probably want seconds. Okay, on the count of three:

  1

  2

  …

  and a half

  …

  There was a sudden shout and a man came running into the camp. He called to everyone to follow him and ran into the forest.

  The whole tribe jumped up and ran after him.

  ‘PHEW!’ said Napoleon. He stashed the hunk of meat under a log, and followed.

  The Neanderthals had found Monty.

  He was lying in the middle of a clearing in a jungle area not far from the Neanderthal camp.

  ‘Monty!’ Napoleon cried and ran to him.

  Monty lay completely still.

  Napoleon fell to his knees and leaned closer, listening for Monty’s breath.

  ‘Oh no!’ Napoleon cried, resting his head on Monty chest.

  The Neanderthals gathered around. They began to weep as well, feeling Napoleon’s sorrow.

  ‘Pulse low, heartbeat weak,’ said Skin. ‘Recommend immediate action.’

  ‘We’re in the middle of the Stone Age,’ said Napoleon. ‘I can’t just call an ambulance!’

  ‘Place your hands on his chest and press down,’ said Skin.

  Napoleon did as he was told. ‘What are you going to do, Skin?’

  ‘Transferring energy from the NukeBelt. Prepare for possible jolt.’

  In the next instant a massive surge of energy pulsed through Napoleon’s body.

  ‘YOW!’

  He was thrown into the air and landed on his back.

  ‘Did you say possible jolt?’ he groaned. ‘That was a bolt of lightning!’

  ‘The analogy is appropriate,’ said Skin. ‘But the treatment was a success. Please observe the patient.’

  Monty’s eyes were open. He looked dazed and confused, but alive. The Neanderthals crowded around him, grinning and grunting to each other.

  ‘I feel like I’ve been hit by a bolt of lightning,’ Monty said as soon as he saw Napoleon.

  ‘Funny that.’ Napoleon laughed. ‘Me too. Welcome back.’

  ‘What do you mean? Where have I been?’ Monty frowned. ‘More to the point: where am I?’

  ‘You’re in Northern Spain.’

  ‘Oh, yeah, sure, Nappy. You’ll be telling me these guys are cavemen next.’ He glanced sideways at the crowd of Neanderthals.

  ‘They’re Neanderthals,’ said Napoleon.

  Monty groaned. ‘This has got to be a dream. Did I hit my head?’

  ‘It’s no dream, Monty. I know this is hard to believe but you’ve just travelled back in time almost thirty thousand years.’

  ‘That’s impossible!’

  ‘No it isn’t. It’s what I’ve been doing for ages now; going back in history to all sorts of battles.’

  ‘I don’t believe you. You’re making it all up, Nappy.’

  ‘Your brother is telling you the truth, Montgomery.’ Professor Perdu’s voice crackled from the Battle Watch. ‘You must believe him and do exactly as he says. Your life could depend upon it.’

  ‘Someone’s having a laugh,’ said Monty as he sat up. ‘Am I in one of those re-enactment thingys? Are we on TV for funniest home videos? You guys don’t fool me for a minute. I’m out of here.’

  ‘You might need my help,’ Napoleon said. He held out a hand to help his brother up, but Monty knocked it away and got to his feet.

  ‘Ha ha,’ said Monty. ‘Very funny. I can look after myself.’

  ‘Montgomery,’ the professor said in a serious voice. ‘You are making a big mistake.’

  Monty pushed his way through the Neanderthals. But he had only taken a few steps when a blood-curdling cry echoed through the forest. Fear spread across every Neanderthal face.

  Another group of cavemen had arrived – bigger and more fierce than the Neanderthals.

  ‘The Cro-Magnons, I believe,’ said Skin. ‘Armed and dangerous.’

  A volley of spears suddenly filled the sky.

  Two spears whizzed past Monty’s head, and one slammed into the ground right between his feet. He froze on the spot.

  ‘Monty! Look out!’ cried Napoleon.

  Asha tried to drag Napoleon with her, but he rushed towards Monty, shouting to Skin, ‘Activate the Shield —’

  The last words were knocked out of him as he fell heavily to the ground.

  Rough hands soon grabbed at him and bound his hands and feet with coarse twine.

  ‘Get off me!’ he shouted.

  Monty was being tied up as well by a large Cro-Magnon warrior with paint smeared on this face and chest.

  ‘Nappy!’ he yelled. ‘What’s happening?’

  ‘Don’t panic, Monty,’ said Napoleon, panicking as he looked around. The Cro-Magnons all had weapons. Some had crude stone axe heads strapped to wooden handles. And their spears were not just sticks that had been sharpened, but real weapons fitted with proper spear heads made of carved bone or polished stone.

  ‘I told you this was for real, didn’t I?’ said Napoleon.

  Monty nodded. ‘Yeah, you did!’ He was as white as a ghost. ‘So how do we get out of here?’

  ‘I’m working on it,’ said Napoleon as he and Monty were tied roughly to poles by their hands and feet, and lifted of the ground by the Cro-Magnon warriors.

  We are working on it, aren’t we, Skin? he said via the thought channel.

  But before Skin could reply, Napoleon spied Asha, hiding in the thick jungle, watching like a hawk.

  A tiny bubble of hope formed in his head.

  Napoleon and Monty were bumped against rocks and trees as the Cro-Magnons lu
gged them through the jungle.

  ‘Take it easy!’ yelled Monty.

  At a clearing in the middle of the jungle, the Cro-Magnons dropped the boys on the ground.

  ‘This must be their camp,’ said Napoleon.

  The Cro-Magnons stared at Monty. They prodded and sniffed him all over.

  ‘I think they like you, Monty,’ said Napoleon. ‘Maybe they think you’re one of them.’

  ‘Well, at least these guys look like warriors,’ said Monty. ‘Not like the Neanders you were hanging out with.’

  The Cro-Magnons were picking and poking at Monty’s hoodie and jeans, but they liked his sneakers best of all. In the end they pulled them off.

  ‘Hey!’ Monty shouted. ‘Give those back!’

  But one of the warriors had already run away with them, chased by the others. Soon Napoleon and Monty were left alone.

  ‘That’s so unfair,’ Monty groaned. ‘I only got those last week. Mum is going to kill me.’

  ‘The loss of footwear fashion is a small price for such valuable data,’ said Skin. ‘These are the first images ever of a Cro-Magnon camp site. This is a great historical moment.’

  ‘What?’ said Monty, looking around him. ‘Who said that?’

  ‘Would you believe … my computerised body armour?’ said Napoleon.

  Monty threw up his hands as Skin’s computers hummed excitedly. ‘It is a moment that answers countless questions about human pre-history. Not least of all the question as to why the Cro-Magnons were so successful. Their organisation is exemplary.’

  This camp was so different from the Neanderthals. It was neater and tidier. And the people were much busier.

  ‘Observe the Cro-Magnon women,’ Skin continued. ‘They are sharpening bones into spear heads. And those men are chipping stones to make blades and axe heads.’

  ‘It’s sort of like a weapon factory,’ said Napoleon.

  ‘Correct. This may be one of the first weapon factories in history. And notice what that group is doing, BB005.’

  ‘Hey,’ interrupted Monty. ‘What did he just call you?’

  ‘It’s my code name,’ said Napoleon. ‘Battle Boy 005.’ He looked at the crowd of young men wrestling each other in pairs.

  ‘They are training,’ said Skin. ‘What we are seeing here is the early development of an army.’

  ‘And one of them has nicked my sneakers,’ said Monty.

  ‘If all the Cro-Magnons are like this tribe, the Neanderthals don’t stand a chance,’ said Napoleon.

  ‘Correct,’ said Skin.

  ‘Great,’ Monty butted in. ‘So you’ve solved your little historical problem. How about solving our problem now. How do we get out of here?’

  ‘Monty’s right, Skin. We have to get out of these ropes. Any suggestions?’

  ‘Not at the moment, BB005. Data collection is still our Number One priority. However, I can report that release is closer than you think.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Observe the bush on your left. Scanner indicates it is more than a bush.’

  ‘You’re right,’ said Napoleon. ‘It’s moving.’

  The bush was slowly creeping closer.

  ‘Analysis indicates human presence.’

  Soon the bush was right next to them. There was a face peeping through the leaves. It was Asha. She reached out with a sharpened stone and quickly cut the vines that bound Napoleon’s hands and feet.

  ‘Tunkoo,’ said Napoleon. Asha smiled.

  When Napoleon was free, he crept over to Monty. But he’d only just cut through the bindings when rock music began blaring from Monty’s jeans.

  ‘What’s that?’ hissed Napoleon.

  ‘It’s my phone,’ Monty said, flipping it open and pressing a botton.

  ‘It can’t be. We couldn’t get reception here.’

  ‘Correction,’ said Skin. ‘Theoretically reception is possible. We have only moved in time, not space.’

  ‘Just kill it!’ Napoleon ripped the phone from Monty’s hands, pressed ‘end call’ and tossed it back to his brother.

  But it was too late. The Cro-Magnons had been alerted; their prisoners were escaping. They grabbed their weapons and ran towards them, shouting.

  ‘Quick, Skin!’ Napoleon said. ‘Activate ShieldField.’

  ‘ShieldField activated,’ said Skin as the Cro-Magnons hurled their spears. A force field immediately formed around Napoleon, Monty and Asha. They watched the spears bounce off.

  ‘Yeah – take that!’ yelled Monty. ‘Love it!’ He punched the air and made faces at the Cro-Magnons.

  So did Asha. ‘Lub it!’ she cried, poking out her tongue.

  ‘Can we exit now, Skin?’ Napoleon said. The Cro-Magnons were angrily pacing around them, banging on the force field.

  ‘I’d hate the ShieldField to malfunction at this point.’

  ‘Situation-appropriate decision, BB005. And with this last show of Cro-Magnon force, we have collected suffcient data. HoverVest and Boot Boosters activating as we speak. ShieldField converting to Cone Mode. Prepare for lift-off.’

  The ShieldField wrapped around and under them, holding them tight.

  ‘Hang on, guys!’ Napoleon called. Monty and Asha gasped in amazement as they rose from the ground, hovering for a few seconds.

  Monty laughed at the Cro-Magnons. ‘See you never again!’ he shouted.

  And they shot up into the sky.

  They flew high over the valley, sealed inside the ShieldField.

  ‘This is awesome, Nappy,’ said Monty. ‘Why didn’t you tell me this was what you were up to all that time?’

  ‘Because it’s top secret, that’s why.’ As Napoleon said this, he suddenly realised something terrible. His work wouldn’t be a secret any more. Monty was such a blabbermouth; he’d tell everyone, and that could be the end of everything.

  Professor Perdu would close down the operation. His life as Battle Boy 005 would be finished. This was a disaster. And it was all Monty’s fault. He always tried to take over. He’d ruined everything.

  Napoleon stared angrily at Monty.

  ‘Please focus on the mission, BB005.’ Skin interrupted Napoleon’s thoughts.

  Napoleon struggled to pull himself together. ‘Sorry, Skin. What’s happening now?’

  ‘The Cro-Magnons are re-organising,’ said Monty. ‘They’re gathering their spears and stone axes.’

  ‘Correct,’ said Skin. ‘They are getting ready for battle.’

  ‘Excellent!’ said Monty. ‘I’m always up for a battle.’

  The Cro-Magnons were rushing around in a frenzy. Soon they were streaming out of their camp.

  ‘They are seeking the Neanderthals,’ Skin added.

  ‘But the Neanderthals are peaceful,’ said Napoleon. ‘Can’t we stop them?’

  ‘Impossible, BB,’ said Skin. ‘The past has already happened. We are simply here to observe and record.’

  ‘Wicked!’ Monty whooped. ‘This’ll be really good.’

  Napoleon glared at his brother. ‘It won’t be good. It’ll be a slaughter.’ He nodded towards Asha. ‘Of all Asha’s people, you idiot!’

  ‘You mean your girlfriend?’ said Monty. ‘She’s just a cave girl. She doesn’t understand anything.’

  Asha was frowning and muttering as she watched the Cro-Magnons. She shook her fist at them.

  ‘Don’t be so sure about that,’ said Napoleon. ‘Take us down, Skin. Asha should be with her people.’

  They turned and flew down the valley towards the Neanderthal’s camp.

  When they landed, all the people of the tribe gathered around, asking questions. But Asha ran straight to the chief and talked excitedly to him.

  ‘I wish I could understand what they’re saying,’ Napoleon said.

  ‘Language scanner working on that at the moment,’ said Skin, focusing on Asha. ‘She is telling them about the battle preparations.’

  Asha pointed in the direction of the Cro-Magnon’s camp as she spoke. The elders frowned an
d shook their heads. The young men started shouting. The women and children joined in as well. The noise was deafening.

  The chief held up his hand and silenced everyone. When he spoke, his voice was firm and full of authority.

  ‘Analysis indicates this is a war council.’ Skin’s nano-computers were operating at top capacity now, trying to understand the primitive language. ‘He is telling them that they must fight.’

  ‘But that’s crazy,’ cried Napoleon. ‘The Cro-Magnons will beat them easily.’

  The chief struck his chest and yelled as loud as he could. His call echoed through the camp.

  ‘That’s what I call a war cry,’ said Monty.

  ‘No, they mustn’t fight,’ said Napoleon. ‘People will die.’

  ‘But they’re dead already,’ said Monty. ‘So it doesn’t really matter.’

  All the Neanderthals were yelling now – men, young and old, women and children. They shook their fsts. They stamped their feet and thumped their chests. They gathered stones and sticks and rocks. They took up spears and rattled them at the sky.

  And then they charged out of the camp, heading up the valley to meet the Cro-Magnons.

  ‘Hurry. Let’s go after them,’ shouted Monty. ‘We don’t want to miss this bash.’

  This is my mission, thought Napoleon. Not yours. ‘Can we activate the Exit Beam, Skin?’

  ‘The mission is not complete, BB,’ interrupted the professor. ‘This is a very historic battle. We must record it.’

  ‘But we know what’s going to happen. The Neanderthals will be wiped out.’

  ‘Please remember your mission objective,’ said the professor. ‘Never allow personal feelings to dictate your actions.’

  ‘Yeah, listen to her, Nappy,’ said Monty. ‘She’s the one giving the orders around here. And orders must be obeyed.’

  ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about, Monty!’ snapped Napoleon. ‘I can’t —’

  ‘BB,’ interrupted Skin. ‘Battles are highly unpredictable. Anything can happen and often does.’

  ‘But …’ said Napoleon. He knew it was no good arguing. ‘I guess so,’ he sighed.