Dinosaur Apples: Horse Apples, #4

By Ged Maybury

Flush with cash from their previous adventure, Randy and Piho head to Australia to catch up with geek-girl Tammy, but they're soon immersed in trouble, or to be more precise: flood-water! And that's how Randy discovers the most amazing fossil ever found in Australia.

He's busting to share it with budding paleontologist Tammy, but he also has the chance to sell it for a cool million to the guy from the Berlin Museum, so the secret is kept until the deal is done. But of course it all quickly turns to kanga-poo: "Fossie" is soon stolen and the villains are already getting away! 

Teaming up with annoying tech-nerd Winton and local girl Nikki, Tammy and the boys embark on a crazy car-chase towards a classic 'Horse-Apples' showdown!

 

["Dinosaur Apples" is Book 4 in Ged Maybury's 'Horse Apples' comedy series. The others, previously published by Scholastic NZ, are "Horse Apples", "Crab Apples" & "Pig Apples". NOW AVAILABLE HERE, as a DIGITAL RE-RELEASE!]

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ged Maybury
• Release date: Mar 31, 2022
• ISBN: 9781393828082

Ged Maybury

Ged Maybury is an Australasian author of children's and YA novelist, with 14 books conventionally published (not counting this series) and a lot more in the pipeline. Finalist - NZ Children's Book Awards 1994: “The Triggerstone” Finalist - NZ Children's Book Awards 2001: “Crab Apples” He began 1994 in his favourite genre: Science Fiction, later adding comedy and slice-of-life, and finally returned to his sci-fi roots with Steampunk. This series is aimed at young adults and anyone else who likes an engaging adventure, but as far as any full-on “adult” content goes: well that's just not his thing. (Okay – there's a bit of it.) He was born in Christchurch, New Zealand, and grew up in Dunedin; dux of his school; blah-blah-blah … Went into architecture, ended up in the performing arts and has been writing plays, poetry and books ever since. He also has earned some notoriety as a Cosplayer and Costumer, Steampunk Sculptor, Performance Poet and Story-teller. Occasionally he writes plays and films. Even more occasionally they get produced. WORLD-FIRST: Maybury lays claim to the world's first custom-written theme-song to a book. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HRQ29QkfKNE He currently lives in Brisbane, Australia. He has a blog and a Wikipedia entry, and is on Facebook.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Randy couldn’t stand the heat but he wasn’t going to get out of the kitchen. It was even hotter outside! Through the window in front of him he could see the outback stretched away into the hazy distance; sun-baked, rust-red and dry, dry, dry.

Unlike his hands which were wet, wet, wet.

He heaved a huge battered cooking pan out of the sink, inspected it tiredly for any baked-on crud (or at least any recently baked-on crud), and dumped it noisily onto the stainless steel bench.

Watch it! growled his best mate Piho, waiting with a damp dirty tea-towel,  You nearly took my thumb off!

Randy was in no mood for niceties, It’s just a potato-bake dish, man. He snapped back with equal impatience.

"It isn’t ‘potato-bake’, dude, it is Pommes Anna."

Poms?  But aren’t they, like, the English cricket team?

"Pommes you dodo!  French for potato!"

Right, said Randy with a long suffering sigh, and so that translates as ‘potato bake’.  I know my French.

With a impatient snort Piho gave up trying to improve Randy’s culinary knowledge and started drying the dish.  Hey!  This ain’t clean!  He dumped it violently back into the sink.  Randy yelled and leapt back from the splash, colliding with one of the waitresses going behind with a stack of clean plates.  She expertly swayed, just keeping the stack in control.  Watch it, ya moron! she growled as she turned 180 degrees and went backwards through the swing-door into the café beyond.  A gust of deliciously cool air-conditioned air wafted over the boys momentarily, then the relentless heat returned.

"Yeah. Moron." Piho added for good measure.

Randy went birko.  No-one calls me moron!... he began, just as Bob the manager swept in.

How’s it going, Kiwis?

Right on top of it, mate! said Piho quickly, snatching back the big pan and applying his tea towel vigorously, Last one!

Beaut!  Now give everything a bit of a wipe down and grab yerselves some smoko.  Oh, and there’s someone out front wants a word with you.

The boys glanced at each other, puzzled.  But Bob had already moving on, heading for his air-conditioned office at the back. 

Randy looked at Piho.  Who do you reckon it is?

Buggered if I know, mate.  Come on!  He hastily wiped down the bench top and tossed his tea towel into the laundry bag, as required.  Randy pulled the plug and dried his hands on his  grubby T-shirt.  Let’s go!

They went through the café towards the front tables.  There, nursing a fresh coffee, was the last person in the world they expected: Randy’s Big Sister.

Beau?!

Yes? she responded without moving.  Her eyes narrowed as Randy got closer.  (Not a good sign.)

"Wa.., wa.., what’re you doing here?" he continued to splutter.

I am visiting my dear sweet adoring baby brother, she said in a voice dripping poison, "who shall from this day forth be eternally grateful that I came to check he was okay considering he has not phoned his parents for almost an entire month!"

Errrrr...

"And in case you were wondering, I drove here; in a rental car; at great expense; your parents’ great expense; because they were beginning to seriously wonder whether you were even alive.  And since you managed to tell them the name of the wrong town, they had no way of tracking you down."

What do you mean?

"You told them you were going to be in Jillaranda, but this is Jillaranda Creek, you moron!"

D’oh!

"Anyway I tracked you down, for all the thanks I am getting."

You drove all the way from New Zealand? asked Randy, amazed. 

Piho snorted like his brain was trying to come out his nose. 

"No I mean, I mean did you come all the way from N.Z. just to check on me?"

"No, baby brother.  As you might recall I am currently in Brisbane studying for my Cake Art Mini-Diploma.  Do you not recall several extensive family discussions, like, oh... six weeks ago?"

Randy quickly nodded, Sure.

"Liar.  Anyway, some people get the weekend off.  Some people care about other members of their family.  Some people... she hesitated, then suddenly pointed past him and cried, Oh my god!  Look at that!"

Randy spun around, looking at where she was pointing. What?  Where? There were old car parts and bits of trucks stuck all over the walls of the café. 

There!  She pointed at the mudguard of an old truck. 

Randy stared at it stupidly.  What about it?

"That beautiful pattern of rust!  I’ve got to get my camera!  She hurried away across the cafe towards the exit, leaving Piho and Randy speechless.  They both glanced towards the kitchen door, dreading the appearance of their boss and the resumption of their daily grind.  Piho seemed to be thinking hard while Randy grinned gormlessly at the surrounding patrons that were gawking at him and Piho in their grubby T-shirts and explained, She's an Artist." 

Beau came back and took five identical photos of the rust, then re-capped her camera.  So, do you guys get time off?  What’re you doing tonight?

The two boys looked tiredly at each other, then glanced toward the swing-door again.  Suddenly Randy sat down, leaned across the table and began whispering to her urgently, "He’s a slave driver, Sis!  He works us to the bone!  And he’s got us trapped!  We have to sleep in an old tin shed with a squeaky fan, and he doesn’t teach us anything, and we work for nothing, and all we’ve got is our bus tickets out of here in six days time and it’s just been like a living hell!"  He was close to tears.

"But wasn’t it supposed to be a management thing? she asked, picking up her coffee again, Wasn’t it supposed to be pretty swank?"

The Australasian Junior Hospitality Training Exchange, intoned Piho sardonically, scowling murderously at Randy, yeah, sure, swank.  In his dreams!

Randy hung his head in shame.

Beau glanced around, But isn’t this where they found the Jillasaurus?

Piho shrugged, Yeah, big Australian dinosaur.  That’s a bit of it right over there, those five ugly rocks.

Fossils, don’t you mean?

"Yeah, but I mean they’re really just rocks!  Which this place definitely doesn’t do on a Saturday night! his bitterness pouring out of him, It's dead, I tell you!"

Well I’ve got a motel room in Jillaranda tonight, said Beau, I’ll sneek you in.  Maybe you’ll find a bit of action there.  What'dya say?

Yeah! they both said at once, cheering up instantly, then their faces fell and they glanced nervously back towards the swing door to the café kitchen.

Don’t worry, said Beau, standing up, I’ll just go arrange it with you boss.  What’s his name?

Hang on! hissed Piho suddenly, pulling her back into her seat, Did you say you’re driving back to Brisbane tomorrow?

Yeah.  Why?

He dropped his voice even lower, "Do you mind if we, like, go all the way?"

But... began Randy.

At which point Piho went insane.  He rounded on Randy and leaned right into his face and snarled, "You want to be a slave?  Then go for it!  But I’m jacking it in while I’ve got the chance!  He started towards the exit, dragging Beau with him, One quick stop to get my stuff, then I’m out of here!"

Randy hesitated, glanced once more towards that terrible door, then sped after them.  Wait for me!

THE AIR-CONDITIONER was pumping, the CD player was thumping, and Randy and Piho were jumping for joy despite being seat-belted into a small Japanese car travelling east at 100km/h.  It had been ten minutes since their sudden departure from the Dino-Diggers Café in the Jillaranda Creek Museum.

Man this is good! said Piho, jiving about in the front passenger seat.

"Yeah!  This is really living! agreed Randy from the back, his head bobbing like a bird’s, God, why didn’t we do this before!"

Yeah, asked Beau suddenly, "why didn’t you?"

"We tried, Piho answered, glancing violently back toward Randy. but our bus tickets were non-transferable."

Unbelievable! said Beau, "But didn’t you have your own money?"

Ahhhhh.... we spent it, mumbled Randy.

What! squawked Beau, What on?

The gambling machine at the burger bar.

It was rigged, added Piho darkly.

Yeah, huffed Randy, they knew we were Kiwis.  They had a secret switch or something because every time we played ...

No no no no no, interrupted Beau at last, "I mean all that money you both earned last year from that disgusting dog of yours.  Where did all that go?"

Investment account, said Piho smugly, mine’s safe. He glanced meaningfully back at Randy in the back seat.

Randy shifted uncomfortable.  Ahhh, see I, ah, I shouted Piho this trip.  His tone got edgy, "because I thought he’d like it."

Piho snorted, leaned forward and turned up the music.  Beau reached across and turned it down again.  "So I need to know, guys, what are you going to do in Brisbane?  Like, how’re you going to live?"

Ah, I’ve got a few cuzzies there, said Piho confidently, some place called Logan.  They’ll be sweet.

But what about Tammy?  She glanced back at Randy in the mirror, She’s not far from here, is she?  You caught up with her yet?

Uh, not quite, but I was thinking... He hauled out his battered map once again, See I was going to hitch over and see her once this thing was over, but now you’ve just made it a whole lot easier...

What do you mean? she asked suspiciously.

Well, see, I’ll soon be like thirty k’s closer, and it’s three o’clock now, so I’m thinking we’ll hitchhike there right now and you can pick us up on your way through tomorrow.

Hang on, what’s this ‘we’? interrupted Piho, "I was planning on fun, man!"

It’s not far, said Randy cheerfully, pointing at his map, Starting here, straight north to Pickling Gap, turn right towards this one, 'Scurriburroway'?  Then straight on to Cunnundrom.  No sweat.

Piho glanced at the wavering map.  You’re nuts.  I’m not doing it.

Okay, I’ll go alone then.

"You are not going alone," said Beau firmly.

They were slowing down on the outskirts of Jillaranda so Randy knew he had to kept pushing his plan or miss his only chance.  Hey there’s the turn-off right now!  It’s going to be so easy!  Go on, man!

Beau stopped at the turn-off and looked at the map.

Alright, as long as you both stick together, as long as you get a ride straight through, and as long as you’re not hitching after dark.  You still got your phones?

"They don't work here, said Piho with a scowl – we needed to set it up before we left N.Z." His eyes were busy murdering Randy for this oversight.

Okay, no prob. I'll be back here at six. If it doesn't work out I'll drive you over  there tomorrow.  Deal?

Why don’t we just drive there right now? asked Piho, hopefully.

Because all my stuff is in the motel, answered Beau impatiently, "and I’ve already paid for it, and I need to get some sleep pretty soon or I’m gonna fall asleep at the wheel and then we’ll all get killed and that’ll ruin Tammy’s whole day.  And besides that there’s this art gallery here I want to check out.  Okay?"

There was no arguing with that, and Piho knew it. 

Beau popped open the boot but stayed firmly in her seat, handing Randy a pen and pad, Write down her address and phone number.  Oh, and grab that water in the boot.  You’ll need it.  Good luck, guys!

Piho sagged in his seat, stewing inside.  He really didn’t want to do this, but he knew just how much his buddy loved Tammy.  And he owed him one (for having a big sister with a driver’s license who had just rescued him from that accursed cafe, but  NOT for dragging him to Australia). 

Reluctantly he popped open his door.  "Alright, let’s do this!"

A FEW MINUTES LATER they were on the road to Pickling Gap.  The very first vehicle to turn the corner was an old farm truck, and it stopped.  Where’re you going, fellas?

Cunnundrom.

No worries mate, I’m going that way.  Hop in!

Excellent!

As they threw their bags onto the back of the truck Randy turned to Piho, grinning happily.  See, it’s our lucky day!  Nothing can go wrong now!

CHAPTER TWO

The truck hammered away under his seat.  Randy was in the middle, catching a bit of the air that fluttered in the open windows, and he was insanely happy.  He was on his way to see Tammy at last!  Not very fast, mind.  The old farm truck was grindingly slow.  It was five o’clock by the time