Megamind Conference

Megamind Conference

When The Croods received their invitation to the annual World Megamind Conference, they were overjoyed. They knew they had a good chance of being accepted this year. Their youngest child, Coraline, had dazzled the judges of the Children’s Literary Festival with her imaginative story, Cloudy With A Chance Of Meatballs.

Marjorie Crood read the letter, greedily inhaling the information. She was surprised to learn there were three stages to the conference; Rio, Madagascar and Yukon. For the Yukon stage, they were given first class tickets aboard The Polar Express. Her husband, Michael, had dreamed of taking that trip since he was able to memorise the formula of Pi; age three.

When Marjorie looked at the conference date, she squealed with delight. It was scheduled for the beginning of December. The Northern Territories would be so pretty. Cold, wild, vast, but with thermal underwear, they would be just fine.

Marjorie spent the rest of the day dreaming of polar bears and lemurs whilst stepping in time to the samba band in her head. There was nothing she could do slow her happy feet.

She met her neighbour, Mrs. Gray, over the hedge and it was all she could do to keep the news to herself. She was disheartened when she met Mrs.Peabody walking her dog. Mrs.Peabody gleefully gloated that she, Mr. Peabody & Sherman had also received invitations.

It took a long time, but December finally arrived. Marjorie had all bags packed and ready to go a week before the trip. Unfortunately, her son, Rango, had been given the freedom to pack his own luggage. The moment the taxi arrived, Rango shrieked, “No! Mum, make them wait. I forgot Tintin!” Hopping from foot to foot, on invisible hot coals, Marjorie could only manage a high pitched wail.

The polar express was everything Michael Crood had hoped for. Wood panelling, chandeliers, fine dining. The magnificent train was breathtaking. “Look, Margie,” he said with wonder, “have you ever seen such beauty?”

“Mum.” The children’s voices interrupted the calm of the dining carriage. “There’s a cinema in the back car. It’s showing How To Train Your Dragon. Can we go? Please?”

“Of course,” said Marjorie, “but, Rango, make sure you look after your sister.” Once her children left, Marjorie went back to her lamb ratatouille. “This is delicious, Michael, isn’t it?”

It took the Polar Express eight hours to reach its final destination. They were greeted by a slight, blonde haired woman, with no hint of a smile on her face. “Megamind winners, follow me,” she said, her voice expressionless.

Marjorie gasped in awe at first sight of the frozen wonderland. She was surprised by the glaring brightness. She squinted until her eyes were pinpricks, seeing only what was in front of her.

“Mummy, do you think this is what it was like living in the Ice Age?” asked Coraline.

“I don’t know. Yes, probably. Except, there would have been no shops or hotels, obviously.”

“No, of course not, Mummy. Ooh, look, is that our hotel up ahead?”

Marjorie peered through the holes in her eyes. “Yes, it must be.”

“Hotel Transylvania? That’s a strange name for a hotel in Canada,” said Michael.

Once inside, the hotel owner greeted them and introduced himself. “I am Drake Caulard, welcome to my hotel. You will each be assigned a robot to show you to your rooms and settle you in. I hope you enjoy your, ahem, stay. If you need anything, your robot will be happy to help.”

Robots? thought Marjorie. That’s odd. Before she had a chance to form any further thoughts, she felt someone tugging her bag. She turned to face the hotel owner. She opened her mouth to insist she didn't need preferential treatment when she realised the lobby was packed with exact copies of this man. They must be the robots, she realised. She shivered and hoped the discomfort knocking the corner of her mind was unfounded.

Once The Croods were unpacked, Michael suggested the family take a walk in the snow. There was no body behind the crimson reception desk, so they decided to take their room key with them.

Rango reached the main door first, but he wasn’t strong enough to push it open. Michael stepped forward and tried, but it wasn’t budging. “I’m sorry, the weather is too bad to venture out, Mr. Crood,” whispered a slithery voice from right beside him. Michael jumped and cursed at the hotel owner who had crept from nowhere to stand next to him.

“It’s okay. We won’t go far,” Michael said, irritation cutting his tone. He barely finished saying this when a bolt of lightening lit the sky outside.

“You see, Mr Crood. Bad weather. You will stay inside.”

Michael looked at his wife, trying to read her expression, then turned back to speak to the empty space that was now filling the air next to him. Breathing deeply, he motioned for his family to return to their room.

They tumbled inside and unpeeled their clothing. The adults sat on the bed and exchanged nervous glances. They needed to talk, but not until the kids were asleep. It wasn’t long, though, before they heard a gentle knocking. Marjorie drew in her breath and shook her head that, no, Michael shouldn’t answer the door. But he smiled and said, “It’s okay, don’t worry. I am a man, I am brave.

His neighbour, Mr. Peabody, pressed his way into the room, looking frantically left and right, as though he was being hunted. “Marjorie, Michael. Thank goodness you’re okay. They’re picking us off, family by family, person by person. They got Sherman. My poor boy, he fought them, he was valiant in his efforts, but they took him. You guys will be next. They’ll take Rango.”

“Slow down. Who are you talking about? Who has taken Sherman?” said Michael.

“The owners. The vampires. They’re draining our blood, freezing it in the snow, then defrosting it and heating it in the microwave. I’m deadly serious, Mike. You are next.”

The desperate man was silenced by the creaking of the hotel room door. All heads snapped round to see their visitor. “So, I hear you’re telling tales, Mr. Peabody. I cannot have that, you know. I think it is time we dispose of you.”

Screaming the word ‘no’ over and over, Mr. Peabody backed himself into the corner of the room. “You can’t seriously think you can do this,” said Michael.

“Oh, despicable me. I am such a bad person, a-hahaaa,” said Mr. Caulard, tipping his head back, displaying his red-white razor sharp fangs. “Robots, here!” he commanded and almost instantly the hotel room was bulging with his carbon copies.

“Is he a vampire, Daddy?” said Rango.

“I think he might be, Son,” said Michael, “Now get back, lock yourself in the bathroom, take your mother and sister with you.”

“No, it’s alright, Dad. I know what to do. I’ve been reading The Little Vampire.”

“Rango, do as I say. This is not a silly little story, it’s real. Go!” ordered Michael.

“Oh, Dad. It’s easy. We need a stake, straight through his heart. That’s all.”

“Rango,”

“Dad! Listen. I know what we can use. I take it everywhere. Just in case.”

As Rango lifted his bag to the bed, the vampire hotel owner advanced towards him, “No,” shouted Marjorie, “Rango, bathroom, now!”

Her son wasn’t listening to her, though, he was focussed on producing an old, splintery length of wood and raising it above his head, ready for battle. His father snatched it from his hand and lunged towards Drake Caulard. With every last ounce of strength, he plunged the weapon precisely through the vampire’s heart. He groaned as he fell to the floor, blood rushing from the wound.

The moment their owner took his last rugged breath, every robot froze. It seemed their systems were connected directly to Drake. Gingerly, Michael prodded the nearest robot, but there was no response. Marjorie wrapped her arms around her children and sobbed. This was not the great adventure she had imagined.

Everyone sat in silence for a minute or so, then Mr. Peabody jumped to life, shouting, “The woman! She’s still out there. We have to kill her as well. Mike, we have to find her.”

Michael looked to his wife, who nodded her head in agreement. The two men ransacked the hotel, checking every room. When they came to the private quarters, they stopped and looked to each other for encouragement. Michael tightened his grip on the stake and they burst through the door.

Huddled in the corner was the woman who had greeted them from the train. She looked at them and her face crumpled in anguish. “Please don’t hurt me, I had no choice,” she said. “Drake kidnapped me three years ago. Honestly. I was a good fairy before he clipped my wings.”

Michael’s expression softened, instinctively, he believed her. “Tell me your name,” he said.

“Tinkerbell,” the fairy sniffed. “That’s who I used to be.”

“Well, Tinkerbell, you are safe now. Drake is dead and the robots disarmed. If you unlock the doors, we can all leave for home tomorrow. You can come with us. It’s over. I promise.”

Tinkerbell smiled and at once she was transformed. Her clear blue eyes sparkled and her lank blonde hair began to glitter.

The families were home safely by the end of the next day. There was a flyer for festive trees on the The Croods’ doorstep. “Ah, Christmas,” said Marjorie. “We’ve just had the nightmare before Christmas!”

1594 words