Thunderbot's Day of Doom Read online

  ‘A transmitter?’ repeated Trigg thoughtfully.

  ‘And that would be inside the head, I suppose?’

  He turned to Albot, who was lying abandoned on the floor. Norris watched uneasily as Trigg used a screwdriver to remove the robot’s helmet-shaped head.

  Next he did something even more alarming. He fitted the robot’s helmet over his head so that he resembled a weird half-human android.

  ‘How do I activate it?’ he said in a muffled voice.

  ‘Don’t do that,’ said Norris. ‘I mean, it’s not safe ...’

  ‘Let me be the judge of that,’ snapped Trigg. ‘I’ve waited all my life for something like this. To actually control the weather – that’s power beyond my dreams. I’m not going to miss out because you think it’s not safe!’

  ‘Don’t do it!’ begged Norris. ‘You don’t know what …’

  But his words were drowned out. Trigg had found the ON switch and pressed it. There was a loud buzz and the crackle of thousands of volts of electricity surging into the robot’s helmet.

  For a second, Trigg lit up like a giant Catherine wheel before collapsing on the floor. He lay still, while blue sparks fizzed and died in the air.

  ‘Mr Trigg?’ whispered Norris. ‘Are you all right?’

  Trigg’s foot twitched, then his fingers slowly uncurled. Unsteadily, he rose to his feet and his robotic head swivelled round. Norris stared. Something terrible had happened! He could no longer tell whether the creature before him was Albot or Dennis Trigg, because they’d merged to become one. The violent power surge had created some sort of evil robot creature (which is one good reason why you should never play with electricity).

  Norris backed towards the door.

  ‘Wait there, Mr Trigg, I’ll fetch Miss Marbles,’ he stammered.

  ‘SILENCE, WEAKLING!’ roared the creature, in a voice that echoed round the laboratory. ‘I AM THUNDERBOT, LORD OF WEATHER!’

  The evil robot crossed to the window and pointed a finger to the skies. Immediately there came an answering roll of thunder. Norris dived under a desk and hid his head.

  ‘HEH! HEH! HEH!’ cackled Thunderbot. Norris crawled on his belly towards the door, trying to escape. But a hand snaked out, picking him up by one foot.

  ‘Please … I won’t tell on you!’ yelped Norris. ‘Let me go!’

  The robot dangled him upside down like a helpless mouse.

  ‘You’re in luck, Norris,’ it buzzed. ‘Every evil mastermind needs an assistant – someone to carry out menial tasks like shopping and checking batteries. So I am going to give you a simple choice: join me – OR DIE!’

  Meanwhile, Stan and his friends had changed into their sports kit and arrived at the gym for their Friday PT lesson. This morning there was no sign of their usual teacher, old Mr Weevil. In his place was a battleship in jogging bottoms.

  ‘Good morning, my name is Miss Bulstrode,’ she said. ‘Mr Weevil is off sick so I’m your new PT instructor.’

  Stan exchanged worried looks with Miles. Miss Bulstrode looked like she meant business. Her navy blue tracksuit was stretched tight across her broad shoulders and her hair was scraped back in a bun.

  ‘PT,’ she said. ‘Who can tell me what that stands for?’

  Miles raised his hand. ‘Playtime?’

  ‘Wrong, physical training,’ barked Miss Bulstrode. ‘Miss Marbles tells me that you’re here because of your exceptional talents. Well, excuse me if I’m not impressed. Only one thing interests me – your fitness and stamina.’

  ‘Isn’t that two things?’ asked Minnie.

  ‘QUIET!’ boomed Miss Bulstrode. ‘Ten press-ups, NOW!’

  As Minnie got down on the floor, Stan wondered if he might be excused for the good of his health. Miss Bulstrode warned them she would not tolerate shirkers or skivers in her class.

  Miles nudged Stan. ‘Where’s Norris?’ he whispered.

  Stan shrugged. ‘Don’t ask me, maybe he’s late.’

  ‘YOU!’ bellowed the teacher, making them jump. ‘Yes, the boy at the back! Are you talking while I’m talking?’

  Stan turned red. Everyone turned round to stare at him.

  ‘Out here,’ ordered Miss Bulstrode. Stan trailed out to the front. His ears started to prickle, which only made him more nervous – though facing Miss Bulstrode was enough to make anyone nervous. She resembled an angry rhino that might charge at any moment.

  ‘Name?’ she demanded.

  ‘Stan.’

  ‘Well, Stan, you think you’re already a superhero? That you’ve got nothing left to learn?’ said the teacher. Stan shook his head dumbly.

  ‘Speak up, boy!’

  ‘No, miss,’ mumbled Stan.

  He caught sight of his friends’ worried faces. Behind them, Tank, the class bully, was enjoying every moment of this.

  ‘So let’s find out what you’re made of,’ said Miss Bulstrode.

  She disappeared into the gym cupboard and returned with a set of weights. Stan watched anxiously as she selected two weights the size of truck tyres and threaded them on to a metal bar. Miss Bulstrode stood over the barbell and rolled her shoulders back.

  ‘Strength, effort and determination,’ she said. ‘Watch me.’

  She bent her knees and lifted the massive barbell on to her chest as if it was a lolly stick. With her muscles bulging, she raised it above her head. The class clapped as she lowered the weight easily to the floor and let it drop with a clang.

  ‘Nothing to it,’ she said. ‘Right then, Stan, you have a go.’

  Stan swallowed. ‘Me?’ he said. He might as well try to lift a double decker bus! Miss Bulstrode folded her arms.

  ‘Well? Don’t keep me waiting,’ she said.

  Stan looked at the barbell. He wasn’t known for his strength; he was much better at knowing when to run away. In fact, now seemed like a good moment.

  He bent over the barbell, gripping it with both hands.

  ‘Back straight, bend your knees and LIFT!’ barked Miss Bulstrode.

  Stan breathed hard, screwed his eyes shut and heaved. The weight didn’t budge off the floor. Tank hooted with laughter.

  ‘QUIET!’ snapped Miss Bulstrode. ‘Put some effort into it, boy! Are you a quitter?’

  Stan’s cheeks flushed. He breathed hard, gripped the bar once more and heaved.

  This time he got it off the ground up until it was level with his knees. But his legs were shaking and starting to buckle under the weight.

  ‘UP, UP, UP!’ yelled Miss Bulstrode.

  Stan got the barbell on to his chest, but the weight was tipping him backwards. His legs had turned to jelly. Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of a face at the window. It was Norris Trimble, who was trying to mouth something: ‘Hello!’ or possibly ‘HEEEEELP!’

  Stan’s legs folded like a deck chair and he crashed back to the floor. The weight fell on his chest, pinning him to the ground. Grinning faces appeared above him. Miss Bulstrode lifted the barbell and hauled him up by one hand. Then she thumped him hard on the back, knocking the breath out of him.

  ‘HOPELESS!’ she barked. ‘But full marks for effort. Give me a few terms and I’ll make a man of you yet!’

  Stan doubted if he could last a few terms of Miss Bulstrode, but right now he had other things to worry about. He pointed to the window but was too out of breath to speak.

  ‘Nice going, Stan,’ said Miles. ‘You should enter the Olympics.’

  ‘NORRIS!’ Stan blurted out at last, finding his voice. ‘He was at the window!’

  They turned, just in time to catch sight of two figures stumbling away across the school field towards the gates. The tall one with the giant head seemed to be dragging Norris along by the arm. Pudding, who had been waiting outside the gym, began barking excitedly.

  ‘Where’s he going?’ asked Minnie.

  ‘I don’t know,’ replied Stan. ‘I think he needs help.’

  There was no time to explain the situation to Miss Bulstrode. If they weren’t
quick, the two figures would reach the gates and be out of sight. This was a job for the Invincibles.

  They burst out of the door and on to the field. Norris was fifty metres ahead and looked back over his shoulder.

  ‘HELP!’ he cried. ‘Kidnap! Robbery! Murder!’

  Stan thought he should make up his mind but it was clear Norris was in trouble. The tall figure who had hold of him suddenly whipped round to face them. Stan let out a gasp. The creature had a man’s body but the head of a robot. It looked like Norris’s science project had come to life and taken him prisoner.

  ‘FOOLS! IMBECILES!’ cried the mad robot. ‘You dare to challenge the mighty THUNDERBOT?’

  ‘Thunderbot?’ repeated Stan. ‘Who on earth is that?’

  Minnie took a step forward.

  ‘That’s our friend you’ve got there,’ she said.

  ‘Well, he’s hardly a friend,’objected Miles.

  The evil robot pushed Norris roughly aside. His head swivelled and his eyes flashed like warning lights.

  ‘STAY BACK!’ he ordered them.

  ‘Oh yeah? Make me, tinhead!’ Minnie shouted back.

  Stan had a feeling she shouldn’t have said that. The robot looked up and pointed to the heavens. Immediately the sky began to turn ominously dark. Stan looked up.

  ‘I don’t want to worry you, but maybe we should get inside,’ he said.

  ‘Don’t be such a wimp,’ scoffed Minnie. ‘It’s only a spot of rain!’

  But it wasn’t rain at all. The air grew heavy and the clouds began to mass like dark boulders. Suddenly Stan saw it coming their way – a black twisting corkscrew beyond the road, growing bigger and bigger.

  ‘TORNADO!’ gasped Miles.

  Minnie stared. ‘You’ve got to be kidding! We don’t get tornadoes,’ she said.

  ‘We do now!’ said Stan. ‘RUN!’

  They turned and raced for cover. The tornado roared, whipping across the field and lifting a set of goalposts off the ground. The next moment it hit them ...

  Stan fell out of the sky.

  Luckily for him, he landed on something soft – which turned out to be Mrs Sponge’s compost heap, where the school dinner slops were emptied.

  The Invincibles picked themselves up, brushing bits of egg and carrot from their costumes. Stan picked a blob of mashed potato out of his hair. He smelt of rotten vegetables.

  ‘YUCK!’ he said.

  ‘At least we’re alive,’ said Minnie. ‘Not many people survive a tornado.’

  Stan looked back over the school field. The tornado had passed over, leaving a trail of destruction on the field. Fences lay flattened and it didn’t look like they’d be using the mangled goalposts for a while. In the mayhem Norris and his robot captor had disappeared. The question was, where did Thunderbot’s amazing powers come from?

  Stan squelched to the door and opened it. Unfortunately he had forgotten about their class teacher.

  ‘And where do you think you’re going?’ barked Miss Bulstrode.

  ‘Um ... to get changed?’ said Stan.

  The teacher folded her brawny arms.

  ‘First you’ll report to the head teacher and explain why you left my class without asking.’

  ‘But we had to ...’ began Minnie.

  ‘Don’t answer back!’ stormed Miss Bulstrode. ‘And you can clear up all this mess too. It looks like a hurricane came this way.’

  Miles was about to say that actually it was a tornado but a look from Minnie silenced him. They splodged past their classmates, who all stood aside to let them pass.

  Ten minutes later, Stan and his friends stood in Miss Marbles’ study, trying to explain what had happened.

  ‘A tornado?’ said Miss Marbles.

  ‘Yes,’ said Stan. ‘It was massive – you must have seen it!’

  ‘I had the blinds down,’ said Miss Marbles. ‘And what caused this tornado?’

  ‘An evil robot!’ answered Miles. ‘Or at least a man with a robot’s head.’

  ‘He calls himself Thunderbot,’ added Minnie.

  Miss Marbles set down her mug of tea.

  ‘Really,’ she sighed. ‘Every time I turn my back this school seems to be threatened by aliens or lunatic robots. And you say Norris has something to do with all this?’

  Stan nodded. ‘It’s his robot, but it seems to have taken him prisoner,’ he said.

  ‘Well, I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation,’ said Miss Marbles. ‘Knowing Norris, it’s probably some sort of scientific experiment.’

  ‘I’m not so sure,’ said Stan. ‘At least come to the science lab with us – that’s where he kept Albot.’

  Miss Marbles stood up. ‘Very well,’ she said. ‘But I hope this isn’t wasting my time.’

  They made their way to the science lab, where the door was open and there were signs of some sort of struggle. Albot lay sprawled on the floor – or at least what was left of him, since he’d completely lost his head. A chair lay on its side while a strange burning smell hung in the air.

  ‘See?’ said Minnie. ‘Norris has gone and his robot’s in pieces.’

  Stan stared at Albot’s headless body. He’d just remembered something – Thunderbot had been wearing funny clothes: a grey suit that badly needed ironing and a terrible tie. Only one person he knew dressed that badly ...

  ‘Dennis Trigg!’ cried Stan. ‘It’s him!’

  ‘What is?’ said Miss Marbles.

  ‘The thing that took Norris,’ said Stan. ‘It was Dennis Trigg! He’s somehow become an evil robot with superpowers.’

  Miss Marbles frowned. ‘Is that even possible?’ she said.

  ‘Well, yes! It happens in comic books all the time,’ answered Miles.

  Minnie looked worried.

  ‘And this robot Dennis, he can actually change the weather?’ she said.

  ‘Not just change it,’ said Stan. ‘From what I saw, he can make it do anything he likes. Who knows what he might do next!’

  Miss Marbles tidied Albot’s body away into a cupboard.

  ‘Well, I’m sure there’s no need to worry,’ she said. ‘Dennis Trigg is a perfectly sensible man, I can’t imagine he’d do anything silly.’

  Meanwhile, in a cheap cafe across town, the evil Thunderbot was planning his next move over egg and chips with a mug of strong tea. Seated opposite him, Norris was aware of the other customers’ stares. It was most likely because his companion looked like Frankenstein’s monster and drinking tea was causing blue sparks to come out of his head.

  ‘It’s not fair,’ grumbled Norris. ‘How come you get chips and I don’t?’

  ‘Because I am a WEATHER LORD and you are a worthless slave,’ snapped Thunderbot. ‘And I’ve told you before to address me as "LORD AND MASTER".’

  Norris bit into his digestive biscuit. ‘So, what now?’ he asked.

  ‘What now, LORD AND MASTER?’

  ‘OK, what now, Lord and Master?’ sighed Norris.

  ‘We lie low while I think of a master plan,’ said Thunderbot. ‘I’m going to teach my enemies a lesson.’

  ‘What enemies?’ asked Norris.

  ‘All those brainless morons that called me boring,’ replied Thunderbot. ‘My bosses, the TV critics, the so-called experts, the journalists, people who watch television ...’

  ‘Right,’ said Norris. It sounded like a pretty long list of enemies. ‘But what can you do? I mean they’re not going to give you your job back now that you … well …’

  ‘Look like a robot?’ said Thunderbot. ‘You’re mistaken; I don’t want my job back. Who wants to be a mere weather forecaster? No, from now on I’m going to make the weather. And believe me, by the time I’m finished they’ll be begging me to stop!’

  He brought his fist down on his plate, sending chips flying in all directions. Norris quickly gobbled one up.

  ‘But it’s only the weather,’ he said. ‘I mean, a bit of rain isn’t going to scare anyone.’

  ‘What a feeble imagination you have,’ sneered
Thunderbot.

  His eyes flicked to the TV screen on the opposite wall, which was showing the national weather forecast. The smiling weather reporter stood in front of a map, pointing to bright blobs of sunshine dotting the country.

  Thunderbot made a noise like a printer with a paper jam. It took Norris a moment to realise he was laughing.

  ‘HEH! HEH! HEH! Sunny spells, is it?’ he sniggered. ‘We’ll see about that!’

  He crossed to the cafe’s dirty window and looked up at the sky.

  ‘What are you doing?’ asked Norris.

  The other customers were staring again. Most people didn’t leave their chips to get cold, but then most people didn’t have robot heads with blazing eyes. Thunderbot looked back at Norris, then pointed a finger at the sky.

  In seconds, clouds rolled in from nowhere, blotting out the sun. Passers-by looked up, startled, children stopped playing and cats scuttled under cars. White flakes had started to fall.

  ‘It’s snowing!’ shouted Norris. People rushed to the window to join him.

  ‘It can’t be! It’s summer!’ they cried.

  ‘It is! Look!’

  Outside, the snow was falling fast, carpeting the streets. Cars skidded on the road and children ran up and down whooping with excitement. In less than a minute the snow lay so deep that it reached people’s knees and made their summer shorts look faintly ridiculous.

  Thunderbot turned back to the TV screen, where the weather reporter was still predicting glorious sunny weather.

  ‘You see, fools?’ cried Thunderbot. ‘And this is just the beginning. Soon I will bring chaos to the country and no one will dare to stand in my way! Then I will RULE THE WORLD!’

  Miss Marbles switched off the TV and turned to the Invincibles. They were among the small handful of children – and one dog – that had made it into school despite the arctic weather. They sat in the head teacher’s office wearing hats and scarves and drinking hot chocolate.