CHAPTER THREE – Goodbye Earth
The cellar smelt of stale beer and dust and damp brickwork. She stood as still as a statue, hardly daring to breathe, waiting for the humming sound to go away. It passed overhead and faded off. Her shoulders slumped in relief. She began to creep around the aisles between the crates and stacks, looking for somewhere to rest in the cramped storeroom. She finally found a small space and sank down between two beer barrels. She was trembling like a leaf. She closed her eyes and tried to catch her breath. Her lungs felt ready to burst and the muscles in her sides screamed; they were cobbled together like a snarled up sewing machine from the effort of running and tugging at the cellar door. Pluto crept onto her lap and crawled up her chest to lick the cold sweat off her face.
‘What the hell was all that about Plute?’ she asked him wonderingly. ‘Who are these people? And why are they after me?’
He yowled meaningfully, as if he was talking to her, which he undoubtedly was. If only she knew what he was trying to say! A scratching noise from nearby made her freeze. Oh God no. Please no. Rats. She hated rats. She gritted her teeth and took a grip on herself. Rats were okay. Really they were. They were friends compared to that thing outside. And at least she’d found a hiding place, where it couldn’t detect her. She settled down, shivering against the barrel, and dozed off into an uneasy sleep……
She was awoken by a strange, high pitched whistling sound. Relief washed through her like a rush of sugar. It must be morning. Yes that was it. It was morning and someone’s kettle was boiling. Her eyes snapped open. Her heart plummeted as she saw it was still dark outside. No chinks of light seeped into the cellar. It wasn’t morning at all. It was the middle of the night. Another chill of fear crept down her spine. What now?
The sound was coming from the trapdoor. She looked over at it. Something small and rattling was squeezing itself in through the gap between the trapdoor and the pavement. A beam of red light pierced the darkness. With a metallic clunk, it burst through the crack and began flying round the cellar, propelling itself like a tiny remote control plane. It looked like a small silver flying fish, about the length of a cigar tube, with one gleaming, bulbous eye on the front that roved around like a periscope. Her heart clenched in horror.
What else did these people have up their intergalactic sleeves? This must be some sort of surveillance device, a flying electronic eye, an evil little robot spy sent to seek her out. She kept perfectly still. Pluto froze in her lap, stiff and motionless. The scuffling noise of a rat came from the corner and the silver spy fish changed course abruptly and darted towards it, with the sharp movements of a fish underwater. After a few moments, it lost interest and began cruising back towards her. Panic gripped Venus. She must distract the thing, throw it off course. Groping around on the floor, her fingers touched a bottle top. She snatched it up and threw it high across the cellar. It chinged and clinked around the barrels, making a clattering noise as it fell to the ground. The spyfish paused in mid flight and zoomed back towards the noise, away from her.
She took a deep breath. It was a small respite, but not much. Her safe haven was no longer safe – she’d have to get out of this cellar now. Very slowly she climbed onto her hands and knees and began crawling towards a heavy metal door on the other side of the cellar. It must be the inside door that led to the pub. She prayed that it would be unlocked. Pluto padded along silently behind her. She came to the end of the aisle and drew back. The whistling noise told her that the silverfish was cruising towards her between the high stacks. As silently as she could, she backed along her row and ducked between two crates. The silverfish turned down her aisle and flew past, only inches away from her face. She peered round the crate and saw it hum to the end of the aisle and turn the corner to the right.
