Free The Secret Invasion of Port Isabel by Mark Douglas Stafford Page B

Reginald
choose the way. The buildings around them were tall and seemed to
lean inwards from weariness. Reginald turned to the left and Flossy
followed.
    ‘So, before
our little bit of excitement with your sycophantic fans we were
talking about whether Australian animals are different or just
haven’t had the chance to develop in the way animals here
have.’
    ‘No, they’re
definitely different. The pirates, who don’t even speak Latin, were
the first thinking animals I had met and I immediately knew they
were different.’
    ‘How so?’
Reginald asked. He tilted his head towards Flossy as he walked.
    ‘One of them
was tying a Slipped Buntline,’ said Flossy.
    ‘A Slipped
Buntline?’
    ‘It’s a quick
release knot used by sailors, and seadogs too, so it seems. No
amount of training would help a dog where I come from tie a Slipped
Buntline.’
    ‘So that’s
what gave them away, a knot?’
    ‘Yes, and also
their tools and the way they were coordinating their actions. They
seemed to know what to do and when to do it, like someone was
managing the whole show. They worked really well as a pack and they
were more coordinated than any other animals I’d seen. I started
seeing them as a single creature rather than individual dogs.’
    The road they
were on widened as it opened onto Town Square. The Square was
covered by a thick blanket of fog. Flossy could see the warmly
glowing Heat Tree but couldn’t make out the alarm bell rotunda or
Town Hall beyond. Only a few animals were about and most of the
shops and cafés still appeared to be closed. Someone had carried
off the lump of stone that neatly hit Harry. She glanced up at the
roofline but there were no shadows and she was beginning to wonder
if there ever were.
    Reginald fell
silent as they trudged past the burnt out museum. She could only
imagine the sadness he must be feeling seeing his life’s work
destroyed. The silver Cylinder House rising above the ruins was the
only thing that had seemed to have survived unscathed. Everything
else was blackened or had tumbled to the ground. The rubble still
lay where it had fallen and the puddles were dark with ash.
    ‘Let’s take
shelter and see if the others are back yet,’ said Flossy. The
brightly lit windows of the Stinging Nettle beckoned invitingly.
‘If they’re not there we should be able to watch for them easily
enough from inside.’
    Reginald
followed Flossy, his trunk swinging sadly. Flossy reached up and
held the tip of his ear. There was nothing she could think to say
that would help.
    When she
entered the café, the whole town seemed to be packed inside.
Animals of every House squawked, hooted and grunted nosily as they
hoed into overflowing bowls and over-stacked plates. There was
pizza and pasta, soup and stew, chips and chocolate. There were
also troughs full of grains like barley, oats and straw.
    Three
seemingly identical lemur waiters with black and white striped
tails looked professionally frantic as they ducked under the belly
of a giraffe straddling the aisle. They were balancing giant ice
cream sundaes on wooden trays. The noises, smells and enthusiasm
produced in Flossy a powerful hunger and she licked her lips in
anticipation.
    An enormous
snake, its body as thick as a tree trunk, lowered itself from the
rafters so that its head was level with Flossy’s. Instinctively she
stepped back and half drew her sword from its scabbard. Judging on
its size it could easily swallow her whole.
    ‘Flossy
Fairweather, I presume,’ it said, hissing, tongue flicking. Its
glassy black eyes didn’t blink. There was fierce intelligence
there.
    Flossy slid
her sword back and rested her hand on the pommel. ‘You surprised
me, dropping down like that,’ she said.
    ‘I’ll be your
waiter this afternoon; that is if you don’t object?’ said the snake
as he lowered his head to study her sword. His forked tongue
flicked noiselessly.
    ‘Why should I
object?’ asked Flossy, voice breaking. She adjusted her