The Swiss Family RobinZOM (Book 3) Read online

  The Swiss Family RobinZOM

  Book Three

  by Perrin Briar

  Contents Page

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Thirty

  Epilogue

  What Happens Next?

  Be Kind, Review

  About The Author

  One

  The rain tapped on the porthole windows like it wanted to come in. Some of it didn’t bother with the formalities and dripped in through cracks in the cabin’s roof, which creaked under the gale force winds battering it. Liz eyed the roof with caution. She placed a bucket over a patch of water on the floor.

  “There’s a leak over here too,” Liz said.

  The cabin’s floor and table surfaces were festooned with buckets and bowls. Some had just a few drops of water inside, while others were full to the brim. Liz picked up a full bowl, opened the swing doors and threw the water outside onto the courtyard below.

  “I’ll get it fixed when the rain stops,” Bill said, not taking his eyes off the journal he was writing.

  “Having come from a boat you’d have thought this cabin would be more water resistant,” Liz said. “Though I suppose it’s not the cabin’s fault. It’s the poor workmanship.”

  “Give me a break, we’ve only been here a few months.”

  “Five months,” Liz said. “Long enough to build a roof over our heads that doesn’t leak.”

  “I said I’ll fix it when the rain stops.”

  There was a pause. Liz knew she should have left it there, but being cooped up during a storm had made her argumentative.

  “I’m not sure being in the tallest trees on the island during a storm is the best idea anyway,” Liz said. “Maybe we should have a monsoon house.”

  “All right,” Bill said. “I’ll fix the roof and build us a monsoon house when the rain stops, all right?”

  Bill turned back to his journal and continued scribbling.

  “I’m bored,” Jack said.

  Jack sat with his chin in his hands looking out a porthole window. The jungle foliage outside waved with the powerful wind and rain, moving almost as if it were rough seas. Jack put a hand to his stomach, feeling seasick. A capuchin monkey lay across Jack’s lap, staring at the ceiling.

  “Nip is bored too,” Jack said.

  No one replied.

  “I’m bored and Nip is bored,” Jack said.

  “We heard you the last time,” Fritz said. “And the hundred times before that.”

  “I’m bored,” Jack said.

  “Will you be so bored with my foot up your arse?”

  “Fritz!” Liz said.

  “Yes, Fritz,” Jack said. “But I’m guessing you wouldn’t be. You’d enjoy it.”

  “You little…” Fritz said.

  Fritz, fifteen and big for his age, marched toward Jack, who got up out of his chair with a big smile on his face at finally having something to do. Jack ran around the table in the middle of the room, where Francis sat colouring a picture.

  “Fritz!” Liz said. “Sit down right now!”

  “He started it,” Fritz said.

  “I don’t care who started it,” Liz said. “I’m ending it.”

  With a glare at Jack, Fritz returned to sitting in the corner. An eagle sat on a perch beside him. Fritz rubbed Beauty’s beak with a feather and grumbled under his breath. Jack, disappointed that the activity was over, sighed and returned to staring out the window.

  “Beauty sure loves her new perch,” Liz said, trying to drum up a conversation.

  “She’d sit on it all day if she could,” Fritz said with pride.

  “You did a good job of it,” Liz said. “I’m sure she appreciates all the hard work you put into it to make it for her.”

  That made Fritz smile. Jack got to his feet.

  “I’m going to go read my comic books,” he said.

  “Again?” Liz said. “I’m surprised you haven’t worn them out. I wish you showed your school books as much passion. Why don’t you read a book on the Second World War instead?”

  “It’s the end of the world,” Jack said. “Why do I need to know about history?”

  “Because history offers valuable lessons, like how Napoleon defeated the Russians in 1805 despite having a markedly smaller army.”

  “Or the Greeks against the Persian forces in 480BC,” Ernest said, not looking up from the book he was reading. “Though, of course, they died.”

  “That’s right,” Liz said, enthused with the subject. “A force of three hundred men held off an enemy of thousands with the knowledge of their terrain.”

  Jack frowned with thought.

  “Or Superman versus General Zod and his Disciples,” he said. “Comic books are history too now, aren’t they?”

  There was a pause.

  “History is our heritage,” Liz said. “Tell them, Bill.”

  Bill turned from his journal, caught unaware.

  “Uh, yes, dear,” he said. “You boys listen to your mother.”

  Liz rolled her eyes.

  “Why should they?” she said. “You don’t.”

  “Be with you in a minute, babe,” Bill said.

  Jack turned to his brothers.

  “It’s boring in here,” he said. “Let’s go to our treehouse.”

  “All right,” Liz said, “but take the winch down. I don’t want you on the wire in this storm.”

  “We’ll get soaking wet,” Jack said.

  “Unlike taking the zip wire,” Liz said.

  “We’ll be across in two seconds.”

  “If it wasn’t broken it would. There’s a storm. You could get struck by lightning-”

  “Geronimo!” Jack said.

  He ran across the living room and threw himself out the swing doors. He caught the cable with one hand, swung his legs up and curled them around the cable. Jack threaded himself along it to a second treehouse, which they affectionately referred to as Robin’s Nest. The main treehouse was called Falcon’s Nest. The rain stung Jack’s face and soaked his clothes. Thunder rumbled in the dark ceaseless clouds overhead. Jack stopped, turned, and hung by one arm to look back at his mother. The drop was thirty feet and made Liz feel queasy.

  “Don’t do that!” Liz said. “You know I hate it when you do that. If you fall and break your neck, don’t come running to me.”

  “How could I run to you if my neck was broken?” Jack said.

  He threw his other arm up and monkey-barred his way across the wire. Nip leapt out through the swing doors and followed Jack.

  “Don’t worry,” Bill said. “He won’t fall. The boy’s got monkey blood in him, I’m sure of it.”

  “If he does, it’s from your side of the family,” Liz said. “And I’m not worried about him. I’m worried about that wire. It could snap at any minute.”

  “It’s high tensile steel. It’ll never snap.”

  “Never say never.”

  Liz watched with undisguised fear, and didn’t breathe again until Jack got off at the other end.

  �
�I swear, I’m going to kill that boy,” Liz said.

  She turned to Fritz, who was now looking into a hand mirror, making minute alterations to his hair. Beauty the eagle was also looking at herself in a mirror, preening. Pets really do act like their owners, Liz thought. Fritz was handsome and well-built, taking after his father. He had a strong square chin that hadn’t yet seen a razor, and wore a pair of jeans and T-shirt like they’d just come from the store.

  “Fritz,” Liz said, “can you get Beauty to catch us a couple of quails for tonight’s tea, please?”

  “It’s raining,” Fritz said. “I’m not sure if there’s much out there for her to catch.”

  “Try.”

  “All right.”

  Fritz put on a thick glove that covered his arm up to the elbow.

  “Come on, girl,” he said.

  He picked Beauty up off her perch. He moved to the swing doors, opened them wide, and then spoke into Beauty’s ear.

  “We want quails. Okay?” Fritz said, holding up two fingers. “Quails. Two. Got that?”

  Beauty nodded with vigour.

  “Good girl.”

  Fritz extended his arm and Beauty took flight into the driving rain.

  “Maybe you should train Beauty to obey Ernest too,” Liz said. “In case you’re busy elsewhere and we need a fowl.”

  Fritz shrugged.

  “I tried,” he said, “but she’ll only obey me. What can I say? I must be more popular with the chicks.”

  Liz rolled her eyes.

  “Fritz,” she said, “will you go over to Robin’s Nest and keep an eye on Jack for me, please?”

  “Can’t Ernest do it?” Fritz said.

  Ernest had his nose buried in a book, an intense look of concentration on his face. He was slighter than his older brother, with narrow shoulders. The lenses of his glasses made his eyes look tiny. Liz clicked her fingers around Ernest’s ears. He didn’t respond.

  “No,” Liz said. “Ernest can’t do it.”

  “Do you want me to take Francis?” Fritz said, gesturing to the eight year-old now building a house of cards and peering at them with curiosity.

  “No,” Liz said. “He’s all right where he is. Take Ernest with you though, if you can peel him away from his book.”

  Fritz slipped on a bright yellow raincoat, careful with the hood over his hair.

  “You just have to know how to get his attention,” he said.

  He sidled up to Ernest.

  “Pie is three point one six,” he said.

  Ernest blinked and looked up from his book.

  “You dick!” he said. “I was just getting to the good bit then!”

  “Ernest!” Liz said. “Language!”

  Fritz tilted the book up. On the cover was written: Advanced Mechanics.

  “What’s the climax, I wonder?” Fritz said. “He fixes the engine?”

  Ernest spoke in Latin, a superior smile on his face. He pushed the glasses up on his nose. His mother clipped him upside the ear.

  “Ow!” Ernest said. “What was that for?”

  “Swearing is swearing,” Liz said, “whether the listener understands it or not.”

  “You swore at me?” Fritz said, fist clenching tight.

  “Enough!” Liz said. “I’m sending you out to prevent Jack from getting into trouble, and you two are just as bad!”

  Fritz glared at Ernest, who poked his tongue out.

  “Give Jack a clip round the ear while you’re over there,” Liz said.

  “With pleasure,” Fritz said.

  He strapped himself into the winching harness, and used the hand peddles to lower himself to the ground.

  “Do I have to go across?” Ernest said. “Jack’ll never sit still and Fritz is going to get me back for my Latin remark.”

  “Perhaps it’ll teach you not to make such remarks,” Liz said.

  Ernest hung his shoulders and strapped himself into the winch harness. He turned back to look at Bill.

  “Dad?” he said.

  “Yeah?” Bill said.

  “When do you suppose the monsoon season will end?”

  “Any day now, son,” Bill said. “Why?”

  “So if one of my darling brothers is going to have an unfortunate accident and drown, it ought to happen soon…”

  “Don’t even joke about such things!” Liz said.

  “Who said anyone was joking?” Ernest said.

  He pumped the peddles with his arms to the ground. He crossed the open courtyard, somehow managing to step in every muddy puddle along the way, strapped himself into the second winch and hand peddled himself up to Robin’s Nest. At the treehouse’s entrance Fritz was waiting for Ernest, and kept pushing him back when he reached for the ledge.

  “Fritz!” Liz shouted. “Let him in! I said let him in!”

  The rain thrummed so loud on the roof she wasn’t sure if he heard her or not, but Fritz gave way and helped Ernest into the treehouse. Once inside, Ernest pulled his arm away from Fritz. Liz closed the swing doors, blocking the Marx Brothers scene.

  A puddle of water coalesced on the floor from where the door had been left open. Liz picked up a towel and began mopping it up. She wrung the towel into the sink and hung it up on a line that ran over their heads. The space was large, mostly made of wood. Water-damaged family photos of a former life hung on the walls. Carpets covered every inch of floor.

  “Those boys,” Liz said. “They’ll be the death of me, I swear.”

  She collapsed into a chair.

  “Thanks for all your help, by the way,” she said to Bill. “It’s important we show them a unified front, and you were solid as a rock.”

  “I’m writing my journal,” Bill said. “I can’t do everything at once.”

  “They need to learn to work together,” Liz said. “Not fight all the time.”

  “What’re you going to do?” Bill said. “Tie them together? They’ll kill one another before they learn to cooperate. Let them grow up a little. They’ll grow out of it.”

  Liz folded her arms.

  “My sisters and I weren’t like that,” she said. “We were always there for each other, no matter what happened.”

  “You’re women. The fairer sex. We’re boys. That’s what boys are like. I was the same with my friends.”

  “They’re not friends, they’re brothers. And this is not Switzerland. The world is a more dangerous place now. They have to be prepared.”

  There was a pause.

  “You’re right,” Bill said, setting down his pen. “And one of them is preparing.”

  “You’re talking about Fritz?” Liz said with a smile. “I don’t know why he takes so much care with his hair. It’s not like there’s a gaggle of beautiful blondes next door.”

  “No, but one might appear one day. A man wants to be prepared.”

  “Our little boys are growing up,” Liz said.

  There was the sound of something smashing in the treehouse opposite, followed by raised voices.

  “Some faster than others,” Bill said.

  “I do worry about them,” Liz said.

  “Me too. I don’t know where they get their lack of respect for authority from. Disgraceful.”

  “It’s not that I’m worried about, and I know exactly where they get that from.”

  Liz glared at Bill, who returned her expression with a faint smile.

  “I’m worried about their future,” she said. “What kind of life are they going to lead on a speck of an island out in the middle of the ocean?”

  “They’re going to live,” Bill said. “That’s enough for now. Later, when the time comes, we’ll take them to the mainland to find other survivors. For now we need to focus on surviving.”

  The thrumming on the roof slowed, and then stopped altogether. Sunlight streamed through the windows, bringing warmth with it. Birds sang.

  “Woohoo!” Jack’s voice said from the other treehouse.

  “Has it stopped?” Liz said.

  Bill
peered out of a window.

  “Appears so,” he said. “Though it might only be a reprieve. The monsoon season might not be over yet.”

  “It can’t rain for weeks on end and then stop suddenly like that, can it?”

  “Why not?” Bill said. “Maybe the clouds just finally ran out of juice.”

  Liz shook her head.

  “I’ll never get used to this weather,” she said.

  The swing doors smacked opened and Jack came running in.

  “The rain’s stopped!” he said. “It’s finally stopped! Can I go climb to the top of Sharpie?”

  “It’s still wet and slippery,” Liz said.

  “I’ll be careful,” Jack said. “I promise.”

  Even Nip the monkey had an excited expression on his face, though he was likely just mimicking Jack.

  “Please!” Jack said.

  “All right,” Liz said.

  “Yeah!”

  “But be careful. Your father says the monsoon season might not be over. It could just be a break.”

  Jack strapped himself into the winch.

  “Okay,” he said.

  “Feed the animals before you go,” Bill said. “And take your brothers with you.”

  “Aw, man,” Jack said. “Do I have to?”

  “Yes,” Bill said.

  Jack sighed.

  “All right,” he said.

  Jack hand pedalled his way to the ground. There was a screech as Beauty fluttered her wings, floated into the treehouse and alighted on her perch, where she sat and got comfortable. In one talon she had two good-sized quails. Liz took them from her, and patted Beauty on the head.

  “At least Beauty knows the value of teamwork,” she said.

  Two

  Francis whistled in a continuous high tone, and then dropped low, before returning to the higher tone. After a pause he repeated the tune.

  “He’s not coming,” Jack said. “Let’s go climb Sharpie.”

  “He’ll come,” Francis said. “He always comes.”

  There was a pause, and then the sound of trotting hooves. Lightfoot the brown donkey came running toward them. He wore a straw hat that Liz had made for him, his ears sticking out the top. It was a bit frayed around the edges where the other animals had tried to eat it.

  “It’s just Lightfoot,” Ernest said.

  Francis gave the donkey an apple, and then pointed with a short stubby finger.