The Battle for Perfect (A Place Called Perfect) by Duggan Helena

Author:Duggan, Helena [Duggan, Helena]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Usborne Publishing Ltd
Published: 2019-09-04T23:00:00+00:00

The Watchers, a gang of rough and burly men, had been George and Edward’s guards when Town was called Perfect. They’d made sure the No-Man’s-Landers stayed inside the walls of No-Man’s-Land and used an invention called the Hollower to steal the imaginations of the Perfectionists through their glasses, keeping them under the brothers’ control. Ever since Perfect fell they’d been locked in the basement of the Town Hall on the orders of the Committee.

Now, as Powick had planned, they’d been let out.

Violet quivered. How could the people of Town ever take on the zombie army and the Watchers together? Tom was right – maybe their only chance was to escape and lose their home for good.

The Watchers began to play games around the cellar space. They were knocking the steel tables off each other like bumper cars.

“Well I never would have called this place luxury when we was living here, boys, but it was a damn sight nicer than it is now!” one of them said, just before crashing his steel table into his friend’s hip.

“Oi, what was that for?” the round-tummied man moaned as the culprit laughed.

One of the potted eye plants tumbled to the ground. The laughing Watcher stood on the plant’s head. There was a loud piercing shriek and a mass of white and red gunk splattered across the stone floor.

“Oh yuck,” he howled, lifting up his shoe to pull off the squashed and oozing eye plant before flinging it across the room.

“Serves ya right,” the injured man sniggered.

“Come on, fellas, stop yer messin’. That Boy’s not ‘ere. We best get up to the street and report back!” the Watcher sitting on the table above Violet announced to the room.

“Don’t be a stiff, Fists – give us a bit longer, we’ve only just got here! They said to search the place with a fine-tooth comb and that means ‘well good’. They’ll think we didn’t do our job properly if we come out so soon and empty-handed! You know what George an’ Edward’s like!”

Fists? Violet flinched. He was a leader and one of the scariest Watchers. She remembered how his fiery red hair poked out from under his black knitted cap.

“We still have to go to Will Archer’s place on Wickham Terrace to search there too, remember,” he answered. “They’re desperate for that Boy. Wonder what he’s done now? Coulda wrung his neck meself in Perfect. Always climbing in over that wall like a dirty squirrel! We’ll catch ’im this time! Feed ’im to them zombies, I reckon! Might catch that Will Archer too – could never stomach that fella neither, like father like son!”

“I don’t like the look of them zombies though. One of the lads reckons a nurse made ’em, Powell or something – he said she sewed ’em together!” another Watcher said.

“I wouldn’t exactly call ’em zombies, more like robots with flesh on and not a brain between them,” Fists replied, holding up a black box like the one Powick had shown to Arnold earlier.

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