Dave Trellis and the Allotments of Doom (27 page)

Abbey burst
into tears. ‘It’s not fair, first Mum and now Dad, just gone.’

Fergus put his
arm around Abbey.

‘It’s alright.
He’s not dead; you heard what Engineer said, he’s just transported
somewhere. I’m sure he’ll get back.’

‘How can we
trust that monster? Dad said he only stopped the invasion, because
he feared his precious machine was in danger.’

‘Well, he did
put the pavilion back.’

Abbey looked up
at Fergus and smiled.

‘Fergus Loaf,’
said Mrs Yorkshire, striding towards them, ‘The bad penny. Not
content on getting your mucky paws on one of my charges, you’re now
sniffing around my favourite child. You will absent yourself this
minute.’

Fergus let go
of Abbey and turned to face Mrs Yorkshire.

‘Shut up you
old bat. You have no right to interfere in my life or Abbey’s. She
is not your child; she is a grown woman. Furthermore, with Dave
gone I am in charge here. I say what goes. You will absent yourself
this damned minute.’

Fergus glared
at Mrs Yorkshire. She smiled.

‘That’s more
like it. Perhaps Boadicea is right and you are a warrior at last. I
will take my leave, but come and see me when you calm down. We have
off world visitors at St Cats that will need assistance.’

Mrs Yorkshire
hugged Abbey and kissed Boadicea on the cheek.

‘Bran, remember
my invitation is still open. Any time,’ said Mrs Yorkshire as she
walked away.

‘Ah, yes,’ said
Bran.

Bran looked
down and shuffled his feet. ‘Um, Boadicea, will we be going
soon?’

‘Soon as we
can, soon as we can.’

‘So Abbey would
you like to come back to my place, for coffee or something?’ said
Fergus.

Abbey and
Boadicea stared at Fergus.

‘What?’ said
Fergus.

‘Uncle Bran,’
said Boadicea

‘Yes
Milady?’

‘How many are
left uninjured?’

‘There are
twelve fully fit knights and perhaps twenty horses.’

Boadicea turned
to Abbey and Fergus.

‘Come on,
saddle up. I assume you can ride?’

‘Where are we
going?’ asked Abbey.

‘To the
Causeway.’

‘Why?’ asked
Fergus.

‘To find Dave,
of course.’

‘And my
mother,’ said Abbey.

‘Hold on just a
minute,’ said Fergus, ‘The allotments are in chaos. We have dead
and wounded to care for. You can’t just shoot off; you don’t even
know where you’re going anyway.’

Enoch landed
softly right next to Fergus.

‘Ten, nine,
eight –’

‘And what the
hell are you doing?’

‘Four, three,
two, one…’

Fergus stared
at Enoch, who just grinned. Then Fergus crumpled to the floor.

‘Snapshot never
late, Rugby Boy,’ said Enoch and hoisted Fergus on to his shoulder
and strode back towards the allotments.

Boadicea looked
at Abbey.

‘We have twelve
mounted knights in armour and spare horses. Let’s just go. They can
sort out the allotments.’

Abbey grinned
and nodded.

‘So who do we
look for first?’ asked Abbey.

‘I suspect
they’re both in the same place.’

‘Where?’

‘I’ll tell you
on route; first we must visit the Library.’

Dave
Trellis

One
Life, One Woman, One Shed

Dave snapped
into existence. His senses swam and wobbled; for a moment the true
bliss of ignorance was his, before the sorry state of things
re-appeared in his mind like lumps in custard.

After the
blankness of translation the rotten stink of jungle floor was
welcome. The humidity made sweat prickle his forehead and his shirt
stick to his skin. Dave looked around; the jungle was a verdant
tent, green and moist with fleshy leaves and thin tree trunks
heading straight up into the canopy above. High above, glimpsed
though gaps in the foliage, was a cavern roof of red sandstone. It
resembled the Fabulous Garden and Dave thought he must be back in
the catacombs. He stared up at the diffuse glare of the giant lamps
to orientate himself, straightened his collar and strode off in the
likely direction of an entrance.

The undergrowth
was a wall of creeper and saplings, Dave struggled through,
twisting and turning, getting scratched and scraped with every yard
of progress. Finally he found a wide gap in the jungle and wary of
Earth clams or large animals, Dave walked across the clearing
towards a natural avenue in the jungle that led off into the misty
distance.

‘Aaaaaaaagh!’

Dave, snatched
by a disguised net of creepers, hung high up, slowly rotating in
the moist fragrant air.

‘Got im,’ said
an Australia voice from the bushes nearby.

Painter looked
around at the chaos. The lovely green sward ripped to shreds, with
deep gouges and hoof prints everywhere. It was more building site
than green belt. The thick coating of yellow ichor disappeared when
Engineer ‘vanished’ the drifts of dead and dying spiders. The dark
congealed blood of horse and human blended with the loamy soil,
concealing the evidence of violence. It looked like drunken
teenagers, equipped with JCBs, had worked their angst on the
verdant terraces of the river Alf; except for the bodies that is;
some in neat rows, others strewn about the battle site. There were
many humans, some Palaver and Dogs, but the Tuatha De Daanan had
suffered and their horses more so. They had attacked with vigour
and once injured, unable to retreat, were overwhelmed.

A single Dog of
War’s huge body like a sleek, black boulder lay amongst the broken
turf. The Palaver had tried desperately to save it, but eventually
the huge chest stopped heaving and its comrades howled at the sky
like forlorn air raid sirens.

It seemed
everyone had just up and left. Painter took a deep breath, hating
the acrid smell of spent explosives, and decided to get things
organised.

‘Just bloody
typical, leave me to sort out the mess, while they bugger off on
some mystical quest.’

‘Is the way.
Cowboy up,’ said Enoch. Painter spun around; Enoch punched him in
the arm. ‘You owe me beer.’

‘Yeah sure,
just as soon as I finish up here we’ll drop in at the Slubbers for
a pint, there isn’t that much to do.’

‘Need wood and
stone, beer and song.’

Painter stared
at his feet for a moment. ‘Wood for pyre, stone for cairn, beer for
sorrow and song for heart.’

‘You sure you
not Palaver?’

Painter
grinned, ‘In my heart perhaps, but in my head? Not bloody likely.’
He pulled a mobile phone out of his pocket and spent a few moments
fiddling with it before remembering where he was.

‘Oi Enoch, do
you lot have mobile phones that work round here?’

‘Yar, what you
need?’

Painter slung
his arm around the big man and started a long, long list.

Boadicea and
Abbey entered the allotments; they rode side by side at the head of
the small column of Tuatha De Daanan. The courtyard was a mess of
cracked flagstones and gouged earth. Some allotments were intact;
others in the line of attack were a wasteland of crushed vegetables
and flattened sheds. There was a smell of burnt hair, sprouts, and
barbeque. Everyone was quiet as the horses picked their way through
the debris.

‘We’ll take the
cargo entrance and then we won’t need to gallop through the
portal,’ said Boadicea.

‘Good idea. Do
you need to stop off and get your Library card first?’ asked
Abbey.

‘I thought you
had one.’

‘That was just
a one off visit.’

‘That’s ok, I
know someone who does, and he won’t object to coming along.’

‘Oi you lot,
what the bloody hell are you playing at?’ yelled Dave. ‘Get me
down, right now.’

The three
Australian Aborigines, dark and dusty, looked tired and fed up.
Each wore leather breechclouts and carried a wooden spear. They
stood in a circle around a heap of modern rucksacks and ignored
him.

‘Traditional
init. Straight over the cliff,’ said one.

‘Nah, he might
just get injured, take him days to die. Cut his throat, no
worries,’ said another.

‘I said get me
down. Are you deaf or stupid?’ shouted Dave. Again he was
ignored.

‘There’s plenty
of meat on ‘im.’

There was
silence, as two of the three stared.

‘It’s true and
I haven’t eaten in two bloody days.’

‘Don’t come the
raw prawn; you had a good handful of beetles only this
morning.’

‘Yeah and they
tasted like guana shit. I want some proper food.’

‘We ain’t got
no Burger King or Pizza Hut and we ran out of Lamington’s last
week. So give up whining like a sunburned Pom.’

‘I object to
that offensive stereotype,’ shouted Dave, ‘There are many of us
that don’t moan. Furthermore if you do not cut me down, I shall
take matters into my own hands and it’ll be the worse for you.’

‘Let’s just cut
his throat, at least that’ll shut him up.’

Dave unfolded
his pruning knife and slashed. It cut through the tough twisted
vines like a chainsaw through rhubarb; another off-world artefact,
conveniently acquired. He parted the net like a pair of curtains,
leapt ten feet to the ground, took a forward breakfall, and leapt
up. He cleared his throat, took three quick steps, and raised his
fists.

‘What’s new
Pussy Ca-aaaarrhg.’

The Aborigine
swayed a little, ‘Strewth, keep yer hair on.’

Dave clutched
his fist. ‘Strong jaw you have there.’

‘Yeah runs in
the family. Who the bloody hell are you and what yer doin’
here?’

‘Dave Trellis,
pleased to meet you; assuming, of course, there’s no more of that
whining Pom nonsense.’

‘I’m Trev, Trev
Digger, this is Toomey and that there is Hungry Joe.’ The two
others nodded at Dave.

‘Why I’m here
is a bit of a mystery, so I consider it an endeavour. To this end I
would be grateful if you could direct me to the nearest exit.’

‘There ain’t no
way out mate,’ said Hungry Joe.

‘Well, you got
in and you lads are famed for your sense of direction.’

‘Gettin’ in is
easy,’ said Trev, ‘But yer can’t go back, it’s one way only.’

‘If you don’t
mind me asking,’ said Dave, ‘Why are you here?’

‘We’re
guardians of the sacred site. Someone turfed up in a Ute and dived
straight into the sacred cave before we could stop em. We didn’t
worry coz you have to run really fast, straight at the kangaroo to
get in. This woman must have known and was in before we could stop
her.’

‘A woman?’
asked Dave.

‘Yeah, a bit of
alright, couldn’t see her face, but she had a lovely arse. Then we
had to prepare to follow her into the Out Of.’

‘Sacred rituals
and the like?’ asked Dave.

‘Nah mate. I
had to let the missus know, Toomey had to arrange a cat-sitter and
Hungry there had to cancel his Bridge night. Took us a while to
find our ritual gear too. You don’t think we dress up like this all
the time?’

‘Indeed,’ said
Dave and coughed to cover his embarrassment.

‘So,’ continued
Trev, ‘Here we are stuck in the Out Of, no food, bugger all water
and we didn’t even catch her. She shot through like a Bondi
tram.’

‘I assume you
tracked her?’

The group
looked at each other awkwardly. ‘Satnav don’t work down here.’

‘What happened
to the legendary tracking ability of the noble Australian
Aboriginal?’

‘This ain’t
Hollywood mate. I’m an accountant; Toomey and Hungry Joe are
plumbers.’

Dave rubbed his
chin. ‘Is this the Workshops?’

‘Nah mate, this
is Uluru; biggest bloody rock in the world.’

‘So how do
account for the lamps,’ said Dave pointing upwards.

‘Beats me, we
went in at Uluru, I reckon we is still there, but deep down,’ said
Trev.

‘Well, it looks
like the Workshops to me. Let’s run with that shall we? The control
room should have some way of opening the portal. You mentioned a
cliff; any chance you could find it again?’

Blue lights lit
up the cherry tree lined street. Police in helmets and paramilitary
uniforms packed the steep path down to the river Alf, a traffic jam
of coppers held back by a thin green line of soldiers.

‘We are
investigating reports of hooliganism and outright warfare. This is
not a time for diplomatic niceties,’ said a policeman with a nicely
tailored uniform and a touch of grey hair at his temples.

‘I am Brigadier
Gerard, Yorkshire Light Infantry and this is a military
operation.’

‘Yes, yes, of
course, but that’s irrelevant. I have reason to believe that mass
murder has been committed. You cannot stand in the way of the legal
authority of the police.’

‘Oh yes I
bloody well can. I have distinct orders from the highest authority.
Cordon off the area and offer all possible assistance. No police,
no coroner, and especially no press.

‘Look over
there you jumped up, tin-pot soldier. I can see bodies from here.
You have no choice; this is murder. The Ministry of Defence does
not have jurisdiction.’

‘My orders come
from higher up than that. Rules of engagement allow lethal force
and we carry live ammunition. Civilians casualties are
acceptable.’

‘I don’t
believe you. No-one could organise all that in such a short
time.’

‘Look, go and
speak to your superiors, they will confirm this operation, though I
doubt they have clearance to know anything more.’

‘Until I get
confirmation, this is a police matter and I demand you move your
men, they are impeding police officers in the course of their legal
duty.’