The Warrior Sheep Go West by Christopher Russell Read Free Book Online Page B

swept up all manner of brushwood and dead cacti on its headlong journey and now it swept up the sheep and the car as well. This might have been fun, like white-water rafting, except there was no raft. There was only the rushing, swirling muddy torrent, and the likelihood of being dragged under by the current and drowned, or smashed to bits on the rocks. Or both.
    Eventually, the white car stopped, upside down, jammed between the side of the creek and a huge rock. The warriors were swirled against it and the torrent rushed on past them. There was no sign of Cameron or Phoenix.
    â€œThey’re trapped underneath!” cried Wills.
    They could all hear the boys coughing and retching weakly as they tried to escape.
    â€œWe have to shift the car,” continued Wills, “or they’ll drown. Quick!”
    â€œMan, I hate bein’ sheep dipped,” said Links, but he breathed out and allowed himself to sink under the water.
    All five warriors were soon submerged, shoulder to shoulder in the roaring watery murk, their hooves scrabbling on slippery rocks. They put their heads against the side of the upturned car. They heaved once; they heaved twice. They heard a tinny grinding noise and heaved again. As they did so, their hooves stumbled forward and suddenly they were breathing fresh air again. The white car reared above them, then twisted and slid away through the narrow rocky gap that it had been blocking. It swirled on in the torrent.
    Shocked and shivering, but free of the deadly metal prison, Phoenix and Cameron clambered up the side of the creek to safety.
    The warriors shook themselves and followed, picking their way across the boulders and loose rocks, then gathering in a huddle close to Cameron and Phoenix as the two brothers flopped to the ground.
    â€œWay to go, sheep…” murmured Cameron, raising his hand in a feeble attempt at a high five. “Aries, Aries…Rams, Ewes, and Lambs…”
    His eyes closed in utter exhaustion but, as they did, he was almost sure he saw the five sheep turn to each other, then raise and clack hooves.
    ***
    It was getting dark now, and in different parts of the desert two sets of headlights were turned on.
    The first were bright and beady, like the driver of the golf cart who had flicked their switch. But even crouched in the headlight beam, Holly Boomberg had lost the trail again. How typical of Mother Nature, how very inefficient to have a flood right now!
    Had the sheep got across? Were they all drowned? Had they got out of the creek on the same side they went in? In fact, they had, but the water had swept them a long, long way downstream. Holly couldn’t see them. There were no tracks. There was nothing she could do. But doing nothing was not a Holly Boomberg mode. She got back into the cart and turned downstream.
    The other set of headlights were equally bright, but the mood in the back of Professor Boomberg’s car was becoming very dark. His passengers had gone from polite, to politely suspicious, to extremely suspicious indeed.
    â€œLook,” the old lady was saying, tapping him on the shoulder. “Mr. er…Rhubarb, can you please stop?”
    â€œNo,” Stanley said. “Not yet.”
    â€œAt the next service station, then,” said the boy. “One with a shop and a café.”
    He didn’t add, “and one with telephones,” but the Professor guessed that was what he meant. He clenched his teeth and drove on in silence.
    â€œLook out for signposts,” whispered Gran. “So we can tell the police where we are.”
    They watched carefully as they sped along but there were no signs. They had never imagined a place could be so big and so empty. Some time later, Gran’s bony knee nudged Tod’s.
    â€œHis cell’s on the front seat,” she whispered. “See if you can distract him while I pinch it and call the police.”
    Tod gave her a silent OK then leaned forward and tapped