Dave Trellis and the Allotments of Doom (20 page)

‘I did, didn’t
I. Ah well. My attitude will change. I will make it change.’

‘It’s easier
you know?’

‘What’s
easier?’

‘Living life
with a good attitude.’

‘Well Dave, I
have here a nice, clean, warm place to sleep. I think I shall get
on with it.’

‘You do that
lad. Tomorrow is going to be a good day. We’ve achieved much and
will achieve more.’

‘But will it be
enough?’

Dave stared at
Fergus.

‘Sorry
Dave.’

Dave woke
Fergus at 7am GMT and they breakfasted on the last of the
digestives, hidden by Dave the night before, washed down with tea.
They shouldered their packs and set off along the clean, brightly
lit corridor. Same as the day before, an uphill walk that promised
an end just around the constant curve ahead.

‘Do you think
we will make it in time?’ asked Fergus.

‘Of course,’
said Dave, ‘Failure isn't in my dictionary.’

‘What about
cock-up, disaster, and FUBAR?’

‘Sorry, I was
being glib. We are in a bit of hole, but something will turn
up.’

‘Uh huh, great
plan.’

Dave glanced at
Fergus. ‘Don't know why you’re so glum, you don’t have much to
lose’.

‘True, but if
the allotments are lost Dave, you’ll still have friends and your
life. It won't be so bad.’

‘What do you
know? I built that place from the ground... Well, my great
grandfather did… ‘

‘Don't bother
Dave, I know. I read the book from the Dark Library.’

‘Ah. Force of
habit you understand.’

‘How did it
start? You know, before the allotments were built?’ asked
Fergus.

‘Long story
that.’

Fergus nodded
towards the empty corridor stretching away in front of them.

‘Alright then,
but let me know if I start to get boring, hate people who yammer on
and on about the inconsequentialities of their own passion.’

‘No worries on
that old man.’

Dave glanced at
Fergus, but let it go.

‘I was a
shepherd, like my father before me. We grazed sheep on the common.
Mostly other people’s sheep, but some of them were ours. We built
up quite a herd by the time I was your age. Things were getting
better; then the common was acquired by the local gentry and us
shepherds were forced to pay for grazing. We ended up working for
nowt.

That's when I
decide to bring the sheep down here. Fearful place it was. Hard to
get to and with a reputation for strange happenings. Not just the
usual superstition you know, animals were killed, people too, but
the grass was perfect for sheep and goats and I was a cocky young
bugger. So I packed some provisions and took the herd down into the
vale.

‘What
happened?’

‘Nothing.
Fattened the sheep and sold em at a good price. Got in some new
lambs, even took the ram down there. I lived in the vale most of
the time and kept my gob shut. Didn't want any competition. My old
man would bring me food. I even built a shack.

Then one night
the lights came. I’d heard about the lights; always preceded a
happening they did. A strange green glow that both you and I know.
I checked the bindings on the sheep pens and threw more wood on the
fire. I stood with my back against the shack and swapped my crook
for a spear.

Then they came,
bold as brass, strolled right up to my campfire and lay down
looking at me.’

‘Who?’

‘Dogs of
course, two huge blue-black mutts with golden eyes. I never used
dogs, too expensive. Here were two useful looking dogs for free.
What's more I was glad to see them. I assumed they would be useful
in any coming scrap. It never occurred to me they might be the
cause of the problems. A bit thick, aye, but that was then.

I approached
slowly and sat with my spear across my knee. One of gave a gentle
bark, so I fed them. Just some bread and cheese. The food
disappeared and the dog barked again a little louder.

Then one of
them stood and walked right up to me. It looked me in the eye and
murmured something. I shrugged. Its head was just level with mine
and it was bloody intimidating. Then it barked and I fell over
backwards. I got to my feet and raised my spear. The dog leapt up,
took my spear then stepped backwards a ways and bit straight
through the shaft.

‘So what did
you do, leg it?’

‘I considered a
hasty retreat, when it turned and walked off into the darkness. So
I sat down again.

It returned and
dropped something that glinted in the firelight. When I picked it
up, I was surprised how heavy it was. It took me a while to realise
what it was, as I said, I wasn’t that bright back then and of
course, you don’t often get see a half kilo bar of pure gold when
you’re a shepherd.

‘Wow, so how
much was it worth?’ asked Fergus.

‘About twenty
grand today. Things were different then, it was an absolute
fortune.’

‘So you were
rich?’

‘Not so much.
What could I do with it? Walk into a Jeweller’s and ask for cash?
Some local gentry would claim it stolen and they would stretch my
neck.

First thing I
did was slaughter a lamb and feed the dogs; to bind the agreement
like. Then I buried the gold and spent some time thinking.’

‘Ah, so there
was a cunning plan?’

‘Aye, it was
that. I sold everything I had and bought some fancy clothes. Then
armed with a fake letter of introduction from Baron Baltimore of
Maryland, I strode into the biggest bank in Huddersfield, deposited
the gold, and opened an account.’

‘Yeah right.
Then you invented penicillin and became the first man to conquer
Everest.’

‘Oh no lad, it
took months of preparation. It took ages learning to sign my name.
Then I had to learn an accent; chose Spanish, as there was a few of
them living in Huddersfield. Jewish they were, kept themselves to
themselves, but good folk and always willing to help for a fair
return.’

‘So you swanned
into Barclays with a fortune in gold and they just accepted you on
face value?’

‘Greed lad, it
covers a lot of cracks. They offered me a ruinous rate of interest
and looked forward to selling my gold off cheap.

I went about
town and spent freely. Then I spoke to the Jewish family who helped
me learn a bit of Spanish. They put me in touch with a Goldsmith
who offered a fair price and the deal was done.

I paid my
debts, swapped my account to a small local bank, and hired a
solicitor. Bought all this land hereabouts dead cheap. Weren’t no
use to anyone. That was the start and once I was recognised as a
man with money and land, it was easy.’

‘So that was
the start of it all?’

‘Aye, in a way,
but I didn’t really understand what was going on. I thought the dog
had found it or something. I mean, they were obviously intelligent
dogs, but they just wandered around and slept by the fire. I fed
them of course, but never really considered they were anything
other than well-trained dogs.

‘So what
changed your mind?’

‘Old
Greysnout.’

‘Who?’

‘A few months
after I got it all sorted out, we were building a house for me and
the family next to the river. I lived in the shack and tended a
small herd, and of an evening I would sit by the fire and think
about things. Then the lights appeared again.

The dogs barked
and shot off into the darkness. I hid in the shack. Now I had money
I was not keen on risking my neck.

They returned
with another dog. It was old, its snout grey, and it walked slowly.
The other two dogs treated it with respect. So I slaughtered
another lamb and cut up some good meat into small chunks. That
seemed to go down well. The poor old bugger was shivering and it
wasn’t that cold. So I fetched a few blankets and made a bed beside
the fire.

After a few
days the old dog recovered and it spent its time hanging about
watching me. It was always muttering and yapping and going on.
Happens I got fed up of it and shouted at it to shut up.

It looked at
me, shook its head, and made this short yap. I shouted again and it
did the same; shook its head and yapped. It was staring at me so
intently, that I bothered to pay attention. I told it politely to
be quiet and once more the headshake and little sharp yap.

So I yapped
back and it shook its head and repeated the yap. After five minutes
of this, it nodded its head and gave a little yowl.

Any road, I had
learned my first dog words ‘yes’ and ‘no’. I kept at it for a few
weeks learnt a few basics and tried it out on the younger dogs.
They sniggered and rolled around. It was years until I learned what
they were laughing about.’

‘And?’

‘Old Greysnout
taught me their puppy language.’

‘Did you ever
learn proper Dog?’

‘I tried; it’s
too bloody hard, all tone and duration. Here, you know the Dr Who
theme tune?’

‘Yeah.’

‘There’s a
‘Wooo ooo’ bit in it that’s really rude in Dog. They snigger every
time they hear it.’

‘That’s really
useful to know.’

‘Aye well, you
could do worse than learn a bit of Dog. Here try this.’

Dave muttered
something and finished with a slight yowl.

‘Come on Dave
give me something a little easier to start. What does it mean
anyway?’

‘’Don’t teach
me how to lick testicles’, useful phrase that with your dogs. Here
try this one.’

Dave yapped and
sniggered. Fergus tried it and got close.

‘Not bad lad.
It means ‘Stick your nose up your rectum’; another useful
phrase.’

‘How about we
start with ‘Yes’ and ‘No’?’

Dave gave a
little yowl and grinned.

Together they
walked on, yowling, yapping, and barking towards an unknown
destination.

‘At last,’ said
Dave.

‘What?’ asked
Fergus.

‘A fly.’ Dave
pointed up to a buzzing speck.

‘There’s no
meat on it,’ said Fergus.

‘It means we’re
near a cavern, back in the real catacombs.’

‘Does that mean
we can find something to eat?’

‘Yes, if you’re
not fussy. And cowboy up, it’s not like we’re starving.’

The buzzing
spec became a small swarm and a warm moist smell replaced the dry,
dustiness of the corridor. They rounded a slight curve and in the
distance an indistinct, green mass blocked the corridor.

‘It looks like
the Fabulous Garden,’ said Dave. ‘Only this corridor isn’t the one
described by Coleridge. I reckon it’s a different entrance, which
means we can get back on the map. All we have to do is get across
this cavern.’

‘How big is
it?’

‘Oh less than a
mile. Only, Coleridge does mention it’s a bit dangerous, so we may
want to go carefully, make a few preparations and the like.’

‘Without the
upbeat understatement, please tell me exactly how dangerous?’

‘They lost a
dog.’

Fergus was
quiet for a moment.

‘Do we have any
options?’

‘I can’t think
of any,’ said Dave.

‘Ok, what are
these preparations then?’

‘Good man,’
said Dave and slapped Fergus on the back. ‘Now you’re getting it.
First we need some flexible branches for the snowshoes.’

‘What?’

The cavern
steamed. The vast lights above were just brighter patches in the
mist. It was as if someone left the lights on in the world’s
largest sauna.

‘Don't worry
lad, they say it's good for the pores.

‘Wasn't good
for the paws of that dog.

‘Give over. We
have these here snowshoes; the Earth Clams won't get us. We'll be
fine. Come on, we head North-West.

Sweat dripped
down Fergus's face and insects crawled over every exposed bit of
skin. He trudged behind Dave, waving ineffectually at the cloud of
buzzing pests around him.

‘This is where
we need to be careful. That's the Tree. It protects itself. Tread
carefully and touch nowt.

They walked on,
giving the Tree a wide birth. It looked like a huge mangrove, its
branches bending down to the ground and disappearing into the mist.
There were groans and the Tree swayed, despite the lack of wind.
Branches moved, twisted, and hunched up as if someone was pulling
on their ends.

Dave looked
back at Fergus and grimaced. ‘This is not going well. Something is
disturbing it. We'd best get further away.

The ground
below Dave opened suddenly showing a bright pink hole fringed with
earth. His wide snowshoes kept his foot from falling into the
hole.

‘Bugger, Earth
Clam, keep moving lad.

With careful,
exaggerated steps they skirted round the Tree. The air was thick
with moisture and insects. It was like breathing fly soup. The Tree
was lost in the mist and the ground started to slope upwards.

Something
snuffled behind them.

‘What was that?
Some sort of animal?’ asked Fergus.

‘There are no
animals in here bar us lad. The Tree or the clams get them.’

Through the
mist something loomed, it was about nine foot tall and horned.

‘I CAN SMELL
YOU.’ yelled Azimuth.

Dave and Fergus
started to run. It is hard to run in snowshoes. They got about
twelve feet before they hit loam. Face first.

‘Oh bugger,’
said Dave.

Azimuth
continued to loom. He stepped out of the mist, roared and stopped.
His foot had sunk two foot into the waiting maw of an Earth
Clam.

‘Come on lad,
leg it.’ yelled Dave.

Despite the
snowshoes, they managed a good twenty feet before thumping into the
ground again.

With a huge
heave Azimuth lifted the Earth Clam out of the ground and stepped
forward. He broke into a faltering jog, Dave and Fergus scrabbled
to their feet and lurched off again.