Читать книгу The Green Ambulance Caper - Alan Horsfield - Страница 6

There was a strange wailing in the distance. Hoo-woo, hoo-woo. Not a siren, but …

I pursed my lips. I was making a decision.

More ‘hoo-woos’, getting closer.

I had just stopped riding, one foot firmly on the ground, and turned my head toward the sound. I was out for a spin after helping Mum weed the garden. Mum doesn’t like spraying with weed killer. She says it sounds like murder!

Mr Jon Quill, a neighbour, has the same weed problem—only worse. He complains that his weeds grow better than his plants. It’s not fair. He even had N&T Weed Control in to clean up his mess. I saw the two men in his garden.

The garden was good for just one week! That made me smile.

More ‘hoo-woos’, but getting closer.

It sounded like a police car or an ambulance, but then, it didn’t. Not quite right. It was not a ‘woo-woo-woo-woo’ but more a puffy ‘hoo-woo’.

Then I saw it. A strange van, speeding across the T-intersection at the bottom of the street.

It had all the gear of an ambulance—but it was olive green. It had a siren and flashing lime-green warning lights. It had dark side windows and a silver-green stripe along the panelling. I couldn’t read the writing down the side. It was going much too fast.

The thing that stuck in my mind was the colour. Not white with red stripes but olive green with silver-green stripes.

I twisted my bike around and started pedalling hard, determined to follow the sound. Call me a stickybeak but I say I’m just curious, but very curious all the same.

As I reached the corner the sound stopped. Was the van too far away? I looked down the street disappointed. Then I saw it parked at the far end of the street near some trees, its colour blending in well with surrounding foliage.

More hard pedalling. Soon I came to a sliding stop, my eyes darting everywhere trying to see what had happened.

Then I saw a sight that made me sit up on my bike seat. I couldn’t believe it.

Just over a low brick fence, sneaking across a lawn, towards a rose garden was a man in olive green overalls. He was holding a spade in one hand and a net, like a butterfly net, above his head.

It looked like he was after something dangerous—he had to be. He was creeping up on tiptoes towards a corner of the garden. His eyes were fixed on one spot.

My heart started racing.

An older couple were huddled on a porch. A look of wild alarm in their eyes.

Bindi, a girl in my gymnastics class, was standing on the footpath, just back from the fence. She was holding a large flowerpot. She didn’t take her eyes off the man in the overalls but I could see she was ready to run. The look on her face gave me the creeps.

Suddenly the man on the lawn made a lunge towards the rose garden. His movements were so quick that I gasped.

The couple on the porch clutched each other, horrified.

I could see nothing weird in the garden. Nothing at all—except a few weeds.