The Christmas Pig Read online

  She gave a screeching whistle, and an old roller skate came zooming along the path toward them. It was the size of a golf cart compared to Jack and the Christmas Pig. They clambered inside, both just tall enough to see over the top.

  The roller skate trundled off toward the place where the toys were waiting, and Jack felt a lurch of excitement: any moment now, he’d be seeing DP again!

  Chapter 16

  Mislaid

  They sped past lost playing cards, babies’ shoes, lip balms, and pencil cases, and all the while, thousands upon thousands more lost Things floated down through golden shafts of light from the holes above.

  As they neared the middle of the warehouse, Jack saw an enormous clock with four faces, positioned on a tall pillar so that every Thing could see it from wherever they were standing in the enormous building. At least, Jack thought it was a clock, but then he realized it had only one hand and no numbers. The colors of the rainbow ran around the outside of the face, and the clock’s single hand was about to move out of yellow into green.

  “I thought the Land of the Lost was supposed to be frightening,” Jack said to the Christmas Pig.

  The huge warehouse was certainly noisy and confusing, but Jack wasn’t scared.

  “We haven’t gotten outside yet,” said the Christmas Pig.

  “But we don’t need to go outside,” said Jack. “You heard the tin opener. DP will be beside the north wall, with all the other toys.”

  “He won’t,” said the Christmas Pig. “He’s been lost too long. I heard all about this bit from the keys of the shop where I was bought. They’d been here a lot. This place is called Mislaid. It’s where Things go when they aren’t properly lost yet. A human might just have put a Thing down for a couple of minutes, and forgotten where they left it, for example. Things are allowed to stay in Mislaid for one hour, to give them a chance of being found before they have to move out into the Loser’s domain.”

  “DP’s outside, where the Loser is?” Jack said, his excitement vanishing in an instant.

  “Yes,” said the Christmas Pig. “But don’t worry. As long as he’s obeying the law, he should be safe.”

  “But my Matchbox car said the Loser makes the laws, and he cheats!”

  “That’s true, he does,” said the Christmas Pig, “but DP’s a clever and sensible pig. I’m sure he won’t do anything silly.”

  “How do you know DP’s clever and sensible?” said Jack.

  “Because we’re brothers,” said the Christmas Pig.

  “But you’ve never met him!”

  “That doesn’t matter. He’s my brother, and I’m his. We’re the same.”

  “You aren’t the same at all,” said Jack, in case the Christmas Pig was about to suggest they go home, and Jack keep him, instead.

  “No,” said the Christmas Pig. “I forgot: there’s something about me that makes you want to pull off my head.”

  “I told you I was sorry about that,” said Jack.

  “No, you didn’t,” said the Christmas Pig.

  “All right, well I am sorry about it,” said Jack.

  After that, they didn’t talk for a bit. The roller skate carried them past a great field of library books, their pages swishing as they discussed how they’d been lost.

  “I think I can see toys!” said Jack at last.

  Ahead of them, crowded into a huge area the size of five football fields, were dolls, plastic dinosaurs, model cars, skipping ropes, yo-yos, game cards, jigsaw pieces, and dominos: every kind of toy imaginable. Even though the Christmas Pig had told him DP wouldn’t be there, Jack couldn’t help hoping to see DP’s wonky ears and button eyes, but there was no sign of him anywhere.

  “What we need,” said the Christmas Pig, as their roller skate slowed down, “is to find a pair of toys ready to swap tickets with us.”

  “Why?” asked Jack.

  “Because then we’ll be allowed out into the Land of the Lost without waiting an hour,” explained the pig. “It should be easy. Everyone here wants to stay as long as they can, because the Loser can’t touch them in Mislaid.”

  The roller skate came to a halt, they climbed out, and it scooted off again. Close by the place they were standing was a two-headed monster who was weeping into his hands. The monster was brown and lumpy, and a plastic princess in a pink dress and a tiara was comforting him.

  “I can’t believe he hasn’t found me!” sobbed the monster. “And now I suppose he’s fast asleep, dreaming of the new toys he’ll get for Christmas, and I-I’ll be eaten by the Loser!”

  “Come on now, chins up,” said the princess. “There’s still time for him to find you.”

  “Ask those two to swap tickets,” the Christmas Pig whispered to Jack, “but don’t tell them why. They’ll think it very strange that we’re keen to leave Mislaid. Go on—you look like another action figure, so they’ll trust you.”

  “What reason should I give for swapping?” asked Jack nervously.

  The Christmas Pig thought hard, wrinkling up his snout.

  “Tell the princess you think she’s very pretty,” he suggested, “and you’d like to protect her from the Loser and you’re willing to swap tickets to keep her safe a bit longer.”

  Jack turned red.

  “I’m not saying that!”

  “I’ll do it, then,” said the Christmas Pig impatiently. He tugged Jack’s ticket out of his hand and strode toward the princess and the two-headed monster, the beans in his belly rattling as he walked. “Princess,” Jack heard the Christmas Pig saying, “my friend has noticed your friend’s distress. Being a gallant young action fig—”

  At that moment, a jack-in-the-box burst open unexpectedly, which caused a lot of toys nearby to scream with fright. Jack was glad of this, because it meant he couldn’t hear all the embarrassing things the Christmas Pig was telling the plastic princess. Soon, the Christmas Pig was walking back toward him holding two green tickets instead of blue. Over the Christmas Pig’s shoulder, Jack saw the two-headed monster blowing him kisses. He felt his face burning and turned away.

  “The princess said she didn’t need protecting and was quite looking forward to an adventure,” said the Christmas Pig, “but the monster made her swap with us. He wanted to kiss you, but I said you’re too shy.”

  “Good,” muttered Jack, taking his new ticket.

  “We should be able to get out any moment now, with these tickets,” said the Christmas Pig. “Aha!”

  He pointed his trotter at the strange clock on the pillar. Its hand was moving from yellow to green. Now Jack realized that when the Timer’s hand reached a new color, everybody who had a ticket of that shade had to leave Mislaid.

  “Let’s go,” said the Christmas Pig, as a multitude of Things with green tickets began to move out of their enclosures and shuffle off toward the north wall. They all looked nervous.

  The Christmas Pig squared his shoulders.

  “This is where the real journey starts. Ready?”

  “Ready,” said Jack, nodding.

  Chapter 17

  The Three Doors

  The thousands of green ticket holders formed untidy lines. There was much jostling and pushing. Many Things were still staring longingly up at the finding holes in the ceiling, hoping to be caught in a shaft of golden light and transported back up to the Land of the Living. Loss Adjusters in black hats pushed them onward with cruel laughs.

  “Too late now—it’s time for Allocation!”

  “What does that mean?” Jack muttered to the Christmas Pig.

  “I’m not sure,” said the Christmas Pig, “but I think it must have to do with which part of the Land of the Lost we’re sent to.”

  They joined a line behind a magnificent sapphire ring.

  “Would you believe it,” she was saying loudly to anybody who’d listen. “She took me off to wash her hands an
d left me behind on the sink!”

  Jack looked anxiously toward the front of the line. At first, he couldn’t see what lay there, but their line moved quickly and soon he realized that they were heading toward a long row of desks at which more Loss Adjusters sat, among them a mousetrap, a corkscrew, and a stapler. Beyond the desks were three gigantic doors: The first was made of plain wood, the kind you’d find on a barn or an outhouse. The second was made of shining steel, the sort you’d see on a safe or strong room. The last was made of shining gold and it was beautifully engraved with curling vines and flowers. Many of the Things in the lines were pointing at this third door with longing expressions.

  One by one, the Things who’d reached the front of the lines were called forward to sit at one of the desks. The Loss Adjusters asked them questions, then, when the interview was over, the Loss Adjuster stamped their ticket and ordered them toward one of the doors.

  “I’m worried,” said the Christmas Pig suddenly.

  “What about?” asked Jack.

  “About how we’re going to get you past the Loss Adjusters without them realizing you’re human,” said the Christmas Pig.

  “The tin opener didn’t realize,” said Jack.

  “But it wasn’t her job to find out about you, or decide where you’re sent next,” said the Christmas Pig. “Quick, we need to come up with a story. What factory were you made in?”

  “I . . . don’t know,” said Jack, trying but failing to think of a name that sounded like a factory’s.

  “Say the Dingledown Factory, Birmingham,” said the Christmas Pig. “That was my factory and they made action figures as well as cuddly pigs. Now, what are you called?”

  “Jack.”

  “Action figures aren’t called Jack! We’ll say . . . we’ll say you’re Pajama Boy, with the power of sleep and dreams.”

  “I don’t want to be Pajama Boy,” said Jack. “He sounds stupid.”

  “Then say you’re called Jack and see what happens!” whispered the Christmas Pig fiercely as they moved ever closer to the front of the line. “Now, how were you lost?”

  “I fell out of a boy’s pocket,” said Jack, copying what the Christmas Pig had said earlier to the tin opener.

  “And where are you now?” asked the Christmas Pig.

  “I’m here, talking to you,” said Jack.

  The Christmas Pig covered his face with his trotters. “We’ll be lucky if we aren’t thrown straight to the Loser.” He removed his trotters again and said, “It’s your Alivened bit that’s been sucked down here into the Land of the Lost. You need to tell the Loss Adjuster where your plastic body is, see? Up in the Land of the Living!”

  “This was your plan!” said Jack, frightened and a bit cross, because they were now close to the front of the line. “Tell me what I should say, quickly!”

  But just then, an enormous commotion erupted behind them.

  Chapter 18

  The Prisoner

  Two Loss Adjusters—a hole punch and a fork—were dragging a small and muddy Thing along between two lines, using the strong and spindly arms that so many Things seemed to grow in the Land of the Lost. Their prisoner was so filthy that it was almost impossible to see what he really was, although he seemed furry.

  “Please!” the prisoner squeaked. “Please give me a ticket, let me stay for an hour! Oh, please, please, give me a chance! Somebody might want me . . . Oh, let me try—”

  As the Loss Adjusters drew level with Jack and the Christmas Pig, Jack saw what the sobbing prisoner was: a tiny blue cuddly bunny who looked as though he’d lain in mud for days if not weeks. Jack couldn’t understand why the Loss Adjusters were being such bullies to the poor bunny. The fork was poking him to force him along faster, and every time the bunny squealed in pain, the hole punch laughed, opening and shutting so that little circles of paper flew from her like confetti. They dragged their prisoner straight past two of the Loss Adjusters’ desks and headed toward what looked like a metal manhole cover in the floor, which Jack hadn’t noticed before.

  “You belong to the Loser, you do!” said the hole punch. “Now stop making a scene in front of all these decent Things what have got owners Up Top!”

  “Why are they treating him like that?” Jack whispered to the Christmas Pig, who merely shook his head, looking stricken.

  “Is it because he’s dirty?” Jack asked, thinking of grubby old DP. What if DP had been treated like that when he’d arrived in Mislaid?

  “Never mind the bunny,” said the Christmas Pig, suddenly looking determined. “This is your chance, Jack. Crawl.”

  “What?” said Jack.

  “Crawl past the Loss Adjusters, quickly, while everyone’s watching the bunny. I’ll meet you on the other side!”

  Now Jack understood: everybody was transfixed by the prisoner and his captors, even the Loss Adjusters at the desks. Jack sank to his knees, crawled past the sapphire ring and through the gap between two desks, toward a group of Things that had already been Allocated, and were standing in front of the wooden door. These Things were far too interested in the fate of the prisoner to notice Jack had joined them. Standing up, he turned to watch what was happening to the bunny now.

  “Please!” he was squealing. “Oh, please, give me a chance—”

  “There are no chances for Things like you,” growled the fork as the bunny struggled. “Nobody wants you. Nobody cares you’re lost. You’re Surplus.”

  The hole punch dragged aside the heavy manhole cover, to reveal a dark hole. The bunny gave frightened squeaks as the fork prodded him closer and closer to the edge. At last, the little bunny slipped and fell. They heard his cry of terror growing fainter and fainter, as though he was sliding away down a chute, and then his scream was silenced by the hole punch slamming the metal lid back over the tunnel entrance.

  The two Loss Adjusters straightened their black hats and hopped away, looking pleased with themselves. Slowly, all the Things who’d watched this horrible scene began to talk again.

  A plastic comb standing beside Jack whispered, “Wasn’t that dreadful?”

  He had an odd appearance, having one eye on each side of him, and was speaking from a gap between his prongs.

  “Yes,” said Jack, “it was horrible.”

  He felt as though one of them should have tried to help the bunny instead of watching him get thrown down the chute. He wished he’d done something, but then he might have been recognized as a living boy and perhaps made to leave the Land of the Lost before he could find DP.

  “It’s disgusting, the way they treat Surplus,” said a battery standing beside the comb, keeping her voice low in case a Loss Adjuster heard.

  The Christmas Pig had now reached the front of the nearest line. The corkscrew Loss Adjuster, which had just sent the sapphire ring to wait beside the golden door, had a loud voice, so Jack was able to hear everything that passed between him and the pig.

  “Name?” asked the corkscrew.

  “The Christmas Pig.”

  “Where were you made?”

  “Dingledown Factory, Birmingham.”

  “Date and place of Alivening?”

  “This afternoon,” said the Christmas Pig, “in the Pendleton Toy Shop.”

  “And they’ve lost you already? Tut-tut,” said the corkscrew. He examined a long list in front of him. “Christmas, Christmas, Christmas, Christmas . . . ah yes, here you are. Christmas Pig . . . Oh dear, nobody seems to like you very much, do they?”

  “I’m a Replacement,” said the Christmas Pig.

  “Ah,” said the corkscrew with a smirk, twisting in his chair. “Yes. Replacements sometimes work out and sometimes not. In your case, I see it’s ‘not.’ But you’re still brand-new, so if anyone finds you, they’ll probably find a use for you. Charity shop, I expect. Wooden door.”

  So the Christmas Pig hurried to join Jack’s gr
oup beside the wooden door, which now swung open.

  Chapter 19

  Horsey Things

  An icy blast of air hit them as they walked outside. To Jack’s surprise, because it had been night when he’d left the Land of the Living, the sun was only just setting outside the warehouse. Snow was falling from a strange sky, which looked as though it was made of painted wood, though it was far, far higher than any ceiling in the Land of the Living. Jack could see a few distant finding holes in the wooden sky, but not nearly as many as there’d been in the ceiling of Mislaid.

  The land all around them was bleak and empty: a stony wasteland, which stretched away into the distance, with only clumps of thistles growing there. Between the barren ground and the swirling snow, it was the most unwelcoming place Jack had ever seen.

  He glanced over his shoulder at the wall of Mislaid and saw to his amazement that the door they’d just come through had vanished. And then it struck him that there was no way back now, unless he found DP. He was starting to fear that the Land of the Lost was even stranger and more complicated than he’d first thought. For instance, what would the Things who’d gone through the other doors see when they got to the other side? And most importantly: which door had DP gone through?

  Then Jack heard the sound of hooves. He and the rest of the group—who apart from the comb and the battery included a little plastic ruler, an eraser in the shape of a panda, some shoelaces, and a pair of chopsticks—turned to see a number of horse-shaped Things approaching. There were plastic ponies, a cuddly pink unicorn, a pottery cart horse, and largest of the lot, a big wicker donkey carrying baskets of plastic fruit on either side of its saddle. At the head of all these different Things rode another Loss Adjuster: a pair of kitchen scissors wearing two black hats, one for each of his handles. He was mounted, ends downward, on a wooden horse with squeaky wheels.

  “Hurry up, get on!” snapped the scissors. “No!” he added sharply to Jack and the Christmas Pig, who were headed toward two of the plastic ponies. “You’re the biggest. You can share the donkey.”