“Maybe not, not round here. As soon as they see he’s using smombies and that, they’ll know he’s with the Smog. In fact…”
“In fact word of that’ll spread,” the book finished. “And Unstible must know it. So it’s decided, whatever it’s going to do…tonight’s its last chance.”
“But that wasn’t their plan.” Deeba frowned. “The whole thing I heard them talk about…it was all about how people would think Unstible and Brokkenbroll were on their side, and that’s why they’d do what they were told. Why’s he giving it away?”
“Maybe they’re desperate,” the book said uncertainly.
“Look,” said Lectern. She pointed.
Among the vessels, birds, bats, grossbottles, and smogglers racing through the sky was a cluster of shadows. It was flying in a strange way. It was a dense mass surrounded by outriders. It careered towards them as chaotic and lurching as a crowd of moths, coming at tremendous speed.
“What is that?” whispered Lectern.
Specks flew up from the city as the mass approached, and joined it, and others dropped away from it and torpedoed into the streets. Deeba saw one of them fold its wings and fall like a crooked, hook-ended missile.
“Uh-oh,” she said, and stepped back from the window. “It’s the unbrellas.”
In the unbrella flock’s dark center, something dangled like an ugly fruit.
“Brokkenbroll,” Deeba breathed.
The Unbrellissimo was holding on to one of the unbrella’s handles, hanging below it as it opened and closed. He swung and reached with his other hand, grabbed another of the unbrellas. Again and again, he moved like someone on monkey bars, hand-to-hand, as if clambering his way through the sky. The unbrellas carried him each in turn.
The swarm swept into the factory’s yard. They spread out among the fight. Then to Deeba’s surprise they each flipped around, hovering in front of every woman or man, offering their handles.
“Friends!” Brokkenbroll shouted over the noise of the battle, dangling like a lunatic Mary Poppins. “It seems, uh, the Smog’s forces must have managed to get into Unstible’s factory. I’ll make sure he’s unharmed. It’s heroic of you to rush to his defense like this. I’ll check on him. In the meantime, I notice that none of you have unbrellas. The Smog’s attacking all over! Please, take them! They’ll protect you!”
Some of the rebels looked at each other in confusion. A few reached hesitantly and took the unbrellas flapping in the air before them. But even as Deeba began to hammer on the window and shake her head, she saw people smacking the unbrellas out of their comrades’ hands.
“Are you mad?” Deeba heard one say.
“We know what you’re about,” shouted another. “Enough of your lies! Un Lun Dun!” He hurled a half-brick, and Brokkenbroll had to sway out of the missile’s path.
The Unbrellissimo’s face lost its expression of anxious concern. A look of rage replaced it. He bared his teeth and growled.
“That girl!” he shouted. He swept his free arm, and his unbrellas attacked. They reared and clubbed at the UnLondoner troops, joining the smombies and stink-junkies.
The Unbrellissimo rose to overlook the scene, and very suddenly, he was at the level of the window, looking straight at Deeba.
“Uh-oh,” she said, and moved back from the glass. It was too late.
Brokkenbroll opened his mouth, and pointed at her.
His unbrellas hauled him, hand over hand, straight for her. His coat flapped. He loomed.
Like bugs on a windshield, unbrellas hurled themselves at the windows, cracking and bursting the panes.
“Come on!” said Deeba. Lectern couldn’t take her eyes off the oncoming Unbrellissimo. She would have dropped the book on the ground if Deeba hadn’t caught it.
“I said come on!” said Deeba. She grabbed the book under one arm, tucked the UnGun in her trousers, and pulled Lectern along. Deeba dragged her down the passageway towards the Smoggy door. Curdle scampered after them.
Eddies of Smog tangled around Deeba’s feet. They were thick enough to feel like cotton wool. She stumbled.
It didn’t make any difference. There was no way she could have crossed the distance before Brokkenbroll arrived.
89. The Vengeful Man
With a dreadful crash, the Unbrellissimo kicked through a window ahead of Deeba and Lectern. He landed in a crouch, his coat billowing about him. The air around him was thick with unbrellas, and the incessant click-click as they flew.
Brokkenbroll stood, and glowered.
“Congratulations, Deeba Resham,” he whispered. “You’ve managed to turn yourself into rather a pain. And now I learn you’ve poisoned I-don’t-know-how-many UnLondoners against me.”
Deeba, Lectern, and Curdle backed down the hall. Brokkenbroll made a hand motion, and unbrellas swept by them and opened, blocking their retreat. Only Curdle was small enough to squeeze through. Deeba heard it bounce off down the hall.
“I have worked, and worked, and worked at this,” Brokkenbroll said. “Didn’t I help? Didn’t I persuade my associate to leave your friend alone? There was no reason for you to come back. Everyone was happy.”
“Everyone except all the UnLondoners,” said Deeba.
“They’d have been fine! Holding out against an enemy! Under my careful guidance! Everyone happy!”
“You was lying just to take control!”
Brokkenbroll made yak-yak-yak-you-talk-too-much with his hands.
“I tried to treat you right,” he said. “But you threw it back in my face. You are so ungrateful.” He raised an unbrella high.
“Brokkenbroll, listen,” said Deeba desperately. “The Smog’s your enemy too.”
He paused.
“What nonsense are you on about?” he said.
“Think about it!” Deeba felt the canopies of the unbrellas, some torn, some with metal poking through, pressed against her back. She pointed at the window. “Why’s it showing its troops? That tells everyone Unstible’s not on their side! They’ll know not to trust him, and that means not to trust you. The Smog’s sabotaging your plans!”
Brokkenbroll stared at her. For a second, Deeba saw his doubt in his eyes.
“You…bad girl!” he said. “I don’t know how all this mess started, or what’s been spreading such malicious thought in the abcity. But blaming my partner…you really are a disgrace.”
He raised his unbrella again. Deeba reached for her UnGun.
It wasn’t there.
Deeba panicked so hard she dropped the book. “Ow!” it said as it landed.
Deeba patted her waistband frantically, rummaged in her pockets.
Lectern was holding the UnGun. She must have taken it from Deeba’s waistband. She was aiming it at Brokkenbroll.
He hesitated, staring at it.
“That’s right,” said Deeba. “We’ve got you covered. Don’t move. Well done, Lectern. Now give me it.”
The Propheseer looked at her with wide, dazed eyes, then down at the big pistol. Her mouth opened and closed. Brokkenbroll looked at her.
“Do you want to live?” he said. “You know you haven’t got a chance. Give me that now and I won’t kill you.”
“Shut up!” said Deeba. “You don’t scare us!”
Lectern stepped forward.
“Yes, he does,” she said. She turned the UnGun around and offered it, handle-first, to the Unbrellissimo.
“Are you crazy?” screamed Deeba, and leapt forward to try to grab it. She was too late. Brokkenbroll had it in his hand.