Molly Moon & the Morphing Mystery

Molly and Micky, on the other hand, were very nervous. Rain pounded on the roof above them. The car’s wipers were battling with the weight of water that sluiced down the windshield. And every crash of thunder gnawed at their confidence in the plan. But neither voiced their worry, for this trip was necessary and unavoidable now. Petula kept her head under Molly’s arm, where she could pretend the lightning wasn’t real. She didn’t feel safe, though. For she sensed and smelled the nerves in the car, and the uneasiness was infectious.

Lily sat between Molly and Micky, uncharacteristically quiet, zipping and unzipping her padded parka and patting her trousers. She and Black had had a big argument before they’d left the hotel, for she had wanted to go on the trip.

“Don’t be daft, Lily,” her father had told her. “It’s far too dangerous for you. And you don’t like flying even in good weather!”

After an hour of driving, Black pulled into the parking lot of Northolt Air Base. Moments later, Malcolm was inside the building with Molly at his side. He had called his superior, AH1, who, fascinated to meet an alien at last, was ready and waiting. Molly did the rest. AH1 was quickly hypnotized, and he procured them an army plane. He efficiently obtained permissions for the plane to take off and for Malcolm to fly it.

Within half an hour, Molly, Micky, Petula, and Malcolm found themselves on board a silver army plane.

Molly and Micky were in its doorway, waving down to Black, who stood, umbrella over him, on the runway tarmac. Lily wasn’t with him. Furious that she had been banned from the trip, she had huffed a good-bye and stayed in the car.

“Good luck!” Black shouted, and gave them a big thumbs-up sign.

As if in answer to their apprehensive prayers, the skies had quieted and the rain had died down so that now it was merely spitting outside. Malcolm sat in the cockpit, with a dashboard of electronic screens and bright symbols in front of him. It was quite beautiful, Molly thought, getting a first-class view of it from her front seat. Micky sat beside her with Petula on his lap. They watched with fascination as Malcolm made fastidious safety checks, clicking switches and pressing buttons.

Behind Molly and Micky, the rest of the plane was airy and spacious. It was an aircraft equipped to carry thirty soldiers sitting along its sides. Their equipment, rucksacks, and parachutes would normally have been firmly strapped onto the high racks in the top curves of the plane’s torso. But today there were only a few parachutes hanging at the stern of the plane. They were like ripe fruit, ready to pop open.

Halfway along the aircraft was a galley that Malcolm had organized to be quickly stocked with some meals and drinks. “Everyone should drink lots of water on a long-haul plane trip,” Malcolm had said. Molly was already sipping at a glass of concentrated orange squash. Micky had cracked open a can of the fizzy drink Qube.

The plane had been kitted out, too, with duvets and roll-out mattresses, so even though it would be a ten-hour flight, Molly, Micky, and Petula could sleep for most of it.

It was only Malcolm who had to remain awake. Molly felt sorry for him. She could see why he had made himself a thermos of coffee. And she admired how he had changed into official pilot mode. He wore earphones now and was talking to ground control about the weather ahead and about the flight path they were to take.

“Okay, crew!” Malcolm’s voice came over the intercom. “You’ll be pleased to hear that the weather has calmed down enough for takeoff. The runway is all clear, so buckle up. We’re heading out.”

The aircraft began to taxi toward the main runway. Once on it, Malcolm drew the throttle back, and the plane picked up speed. In five seconds, the aircraft had accelerated sufficiently to lift. Malcolm pulled the steering controls toward him, and with a tilt they were up in the air. Molly looked out the side window and watched the land and the glittering yellow, orange, and white lights of Northolt drop away behind them.

The plane shuddered as its powerful engines pushed it upward. Its insides shook and rattled. Then they came to the first tower of rain-filled cloud. The plane bumped its way up through it, like a motorboat setting out over high waves. Bump, bump, the plane bounced on the thermals of air that crowded the sky. But Molly wasn’t too worried. She knew that the bumps were a bit like the uneven ground a jeep had to drive over when it was off-roading. She knew the aircraft was built to fly through bumpy air.

“I once read about pilots who had to fly war planes in terrible weather,” Micky shouted, trying to make his voice heard over the noisy engines, “and land on tiny aircraft carriers in open seas.”

The plane tilted to the right as it turned.

“Are you okay with flying?” Micky asked Molly.