Vampires Overhead (29 page)

We went on storing foodstuffs, seeing that vegetables were replanted in the valley, feeding the chickens, and Liza the cow was well fed against the exigencies I had in mind. But Janet did not know of that last! We went farther and farther afield on the cycles, even so far as back to the river, and it seemed indeed that we three were the sole survivors. Three survivors and discord among them!

The black cat disappeared into the wilderness for seven days, and returned with a great half-wild female tabby who swore fiercely at all our friendly overtures. Later, the tabby cat appeared at the mouth of the adjoining cave with a kitten in her mouth, and while I held the fierce creature at bay, Janet went into the cave and brought out four others. We opened a bottle of champagne to christen those blind little balls of fur, and Bingen refused to join our celebration.

Weeks went by, and we saw no Vampires at all. When again we did sight some, they were in couples mostly, and never exceeded half a dozen in number. Soon, we felt, they would have disappeared altogether, but actually, it was three months from the time of our meeting with Janet to the time we glimpsed the last, flying swiftly far overhead, to where, we know not. Even then, it was two months afterwards before I felt sure they had gone, and dared to venture abroad without continually glancing upwards, scared of danger.

The weather still held its tropical heat; and rain, when it did fall, poured only for a few minutes, mostly in the night. Three weeks after presenting the opal ring to Janet, a thick fog dropped into the valley, turning two days into one long night. Janet and I stayed in the cave with a gramophone while Bingen, as usual, kept to the cottage. The thought of meeting Vampires in that fog kept us from venturing abroad until it dispersed.

Grass stabbed water-green spikes through the black bracken, heather on the hills purpled, and later, flowers grew, blossoming in the most unexpected places. We saw gulls high in the sky, and later, a bird darted from the undergrowth before us on one of our walks. And we saw other tiny animals, a mouse, and a ferret or a stoat which came after our chickens and killed one before we saved the others. Life returned to the land. Soon, with the razed buildings hidden, overgrown, and trees in full growth, the country will be as it was before the arrival of the Vampires. As it was before . . . but for humanity. And that, even, may be once again!

Three nights before Bingen died I was watering some seedlings which Janet had gathered from a garden over the hills, assuring me they were scarlet runners, but I was equally sure they were violets, when he came out of the cottage. He had not long returned from a trip to the inn, and had brought back a plentiful supply of brandy. He staggered to where I watered the plants and sat himself ponderously upon the bank to watch. With this, the first overture from him I had received since first he started drinking, I thought he might have regained his senses, but I was soon to be disillusioned.

‘Well, how goes it, Bingen?’ I asked, cheerily. Too cheerily, I’m afraid, for he scowled at me in return. ‘Still boozing?’

‘Ain’t I entitled to booze?’ he asked pugnaciously. ‘You’re not the boss here, anyway. What you got to grouse about? You got what you set out to get. Didn’t you?’

‘I didn’t set out to get anything. And, look here, Bingen, you’ve had a good long run now. Why don’t you pack it up?’

‘Pack what up?’

‘D’you have to be told that? It’s about time you were told. Janet’s held my hand all this time, hoping you would sober up and be your old self again. There doesn’t seem to be much hope of that. And I’m telling you, Bingen, I’ve had about all I’m going to stand from you. Knock off the booze. Pal in again like a good fellow. . . . Or . . . get out!’

‘Huh! Get out! Sounds nice from you. That. Get out!’ Bingen sneered and drank heavily from his bottle. ‘Old pal of mine you were!’

‘I was. And still am. Providing that you give me a chance.’

‘Give you a chance. Huh! Hell of a lot of chances you want. Make your own chances, an’ stop other blokes at that.’

‘Oh! What’s the use of trying to give in to you,’ I said disgustedly. ‘There’s nothing to it, except that you’ve either got to stop the booze, help us in the valley . . . or get out. That’s final.’

‘Fine, old pal. Been pals for years, soldiered together, drunk together, gone without drink together, fed together, gone without food together. Gone through this,’ Bingen waved his hand about the valley, ‘together. And, now, after you’ve got the girl, it’s get out for me.’

‘You asked for it.’

‘Asked for it! What about you? Haven’t you asked for it? What would you have done if I’d got her? Got out? Like hell you would. You’d have stayed snooping around, like I’m going to. Like I’m going to, until I get her. Even if it’s after you’ve done with her.’

Bingen’s voice rose, and I placed the bucket I was using on the ground. Janet came nervously behind me. I looked at Bingen thoughtfully. I could not do anything to him in that state. As near to delirium tremens as it was possible for a man to get without actually seeing things. His hands shook, and the brandy he drank slobbered as much down his chin as into his mouth. What was there for me to do? Short of roping him in one of the caves, forcibly stopping his drink, there was nothing I could do. And that, if I knew Bingen, would make matters far worse. All I could do was to see that he did not molest Janet, and leave him alone, ignore him as much as lay in my power.

He glared at me blearily, sulkily, taking no notice of Janet peering from my side, and seemed to muse over some project he wanted to put before me. He drank again before speaking.

‘Garry, we’ve been pals for years, haven’t we?’ Bingen said thickly.

He waited for my nod of agreement, hiccoughed, and continued slowly:

‘Well, here we are, two old pals. What we want to break up now for? Just over a girl. Girls ain’t nothing, really. Nothing to bust up two old pals. Garry, you’ve got Janet all right so far. But you won’t always have her. Not with me knocking around, you won’t. Because I’m sticking! Sticking, I tell you. ’Spite of all your telling me to get out.’

‘What’s the good of listening to all this?’ I cut in wearily. ‘Come on, Janet. Let’s leave him to it.’

‘Listen to what I got to say first,’ Bingen answered. He stumbled to his feet, steadied, and then spoke determinedly. ‘Here’s what I’ve got to say. We agreed we’re two pals. We used to share. What d’you say to being
pukka
pals again, an’ sharing now. You a week, me a week. That’d solve everything.’

I didn’t answer him, standing steadily. I felt Janet plucking nervously at my arm.

‘Bingen, there is nothing for me to say. You’re drunk,’ I said at last. ‘So drunk, you’re a damned maniac. There isn’t a chance for me to tell you what I think about you. You wouldn’t understand. And I think, when you’re sober, you won’t even remember what you’ve been saying. I don’t know if you’re capable of understanding this, but here it is. Hang around, just as long as you control yourself, behave yourself. Take Janet away, if you can take her fairly. Understand? She’d have to come to you freely. And if I know anything about her, she’ll never do that.’

‘Oh, Garry,’ Janet cried. ‘You both know I wouldn’t. Don’t let’s speak about it any more. Let’s go away.’

‘But you understand? I’m warning you, Bingen.’

‘Well, that’s that,’ Bingen shouted. ‘Get out, you said. Well, I’ll get out. But mark this! I’ll bust up this little tea-party before I go.’ He swore softly to himself as though I did not exist, and then spoke to me again. ‘I helped to save the girl, and she’s as much mine as she is yours. Half the stuff we’ve got here belongs to me. You’ve let me have that, and if I get out I’m busting all up if I don’t take it with me. Savvy!’

Bingen wandered back into the cottage, the door slammed behind him, and Janet twisted her fingers together nervously.

‘Oh, why can’t he be sensible,’ she cried. ‘Thinking things like that, let alone saying them. Just as if I wasn’t here.’

‘You mustn’t take any notice of him. Try and forget it.’

‘Yes. That’s best. He is bound to get over it before long, and be his own self again. Then, everything will be all right.’

‘I’m not so sure,’ I told her thoughtfully. ‘Janet. It’s no good beating about the bush. We’re going to have trouble with Bingen. He’s got some insane idea in his head, and if I know him at all, he’ll try to carry it out. Whatever it is.’

‘What can he do?’

‘I don’t know. Not much, because as soon as he starts anything, I’ll flatten him out and tie him down. He’s nearly in the rats.’

‘Rats?’ Janet queried.

‘Yes. Delirium tremens. Delicious tremblings,’ I laughed. ‘You’d think what we’ve been through would send anyone daffy, without them having to get that way on brandy.’

‘Oh! But you couldn’t do that. Not without hurting him. You mustn’t hurt him. Not with just us three here alone.’

‘Hum! As if I would. For your sake, I’ll try and knock him out without hurting him.’

And then, in the cottage, something started.

A bottle flew through the window and a crash followed, as though Bingen had flung the table to the floor. Furniture was hurled about. The door flew open as something bumped against it.

‘Garry! You’d better go in and see what he is doing.’

‘Not much use. I can’t do anything.’

‘But you ought to go in. He might hurt himself. Go in and try to make him stop. Try not to fight or anything, for my sake.’

‘I think it’s foolish to interfere with him. I know Bingen, and if I go in it’ll mean a scrap.’

‘Oh, I think you ought to go in. He might be doing anything. Go and see, Garry.’

‘I’ll just keep an eye on him through the window.’

Walking to the window, I saw what Bingen was up to, and the sight jumped me to the door. Furniture was being piled in a heap, and he was pouring brandy about. Even as I reached the door he was striking a match. Too late to stop the match, I flung him to the floor, stamped furiously at the flames, pulled a chair that was well alight, and heaved it through the door.

‘You daft, drunken lunatic!’ I raged, stamping and beating on the spirit burning bluely as it ran over the floor. ‘For God’s sake, haven’t we had enough fires without you setting the infernal place alight. Get out of the damned way.’

Bingen pulled himself to his feet, staggered across the room, trying foolishly to kick the burning stuff together, so that I had to swing a vicious blow at him. He lay where he had fallen, eying me balefully with his hand cuddling his chin.

‘Now, you swine. This is the finish. You’ve had all the rope you’re getting. You’ve hung yourself. Either you’ll give your word that this is the finish—I’ll be damned silly enough to take it—or you’ll get out of the valley. Which is it going to be? Quick.’

Janet had come running, and stayed outside to smother the flaming chair. She came into the cottage now, and together we watched Bingen on the floor, staring at us sullenly, a trickle of spittle and blood dribbling down his chin, crouching like a cornered rat.

‘Oh, Bingen. What’s the matter? Why don’t you be nice? There’s only the three of us. We ought to all be friends. Let me help you up.’

‘Get to hell away from me,’ Bingen answered, and thrust Janet vindictively aside, so that she almost fell. He cursed at her. ‘Get back to your owner. Get away from me.’

Bingen rose slowly to his feet, his red eyes glaring.

‘This is what you want!’ He slobbered the words out viciously.

‘Don’t be a fool, man. Get out of the way, Janet!’ Springing forward I swept her out of the way, hurled myself on Bingen. ‘You damn fool!’

He was fumbling at the revolver in his waistband, struggling with it desperately, and even as I reached him the muzzle came free, wavered in my direction. He pulled the trigger, and the shot burned along my ribs and I hit him. Like a sodden sack he dropped, and I swayed beside him, kicking the gun away over the floor.

‘Garry! Garry!’ screamed Janet, and ran to me, pulled my shirt from my side. She gasped thankfully. ‘Oh, it’s only a scratch. The beast! The beast! It’s bleeding terribly! Does it hurt? Come, and we’ll get it bound up. No. Leave him there. He won’t hurt. And I was worrying about you hurting him! The beast!’