The World House (31 page)

  "It's stuffed!" Miles shouted, knowing only too well the nature of taxidermy within this house.

  "So are we unless we defend ourselves," Carruthers replied. Ashe levelled his handgun at the beast and emptied three rounds into it. The bear's head exploded like a ruptured cushion, its snout flowering into a mess of wire and kapok. It fell forward a couple of feet from them, a sour scent of age pouring from its open body cavity.

  "Spare bullets," Ashe commented. "Didn't think I'd mention them. Trust goes both ways." He reloaded, flipped the safety catch on the gun and dropped it back into his pocket. "I think I'll hold on to them too if it's all right. I'm not quite relaxed enough to hand over my only means of defence."

  Carruthers glanced at Miles and gave a gentle shake of his head. Now was not the time for making a stand. Ashe had a point and as long as he was looking out for his own skin he would be protecting theirs as well. "Well," he said, advancing on the empty bear carcass, "I for one am most grateful for your quick reflexes and sound aim. I would not have enjoyed being on the receiving end of one of these paws."

  They resumed their climb, the dose of adrenalin giving them more of a boost than lunch. They took the next fifty or so steps at speed before the throbbing in their legs started to slow them down again.

  "You know what this place needs?" Miles said as they sank down for another brief rest, "a ski lift. Or even an escalator."

  "I've been thinking," said Penelope, "what guarantee have we got that we're even doing anything worthwhile by climbing this? For all we know we'll get to the top and then end up having to climb all the way back down again."

  "Not me," said Miles, "I'd insist that Ashe shot me at that point. I'm close to asking him now."

  "I may even agree to do it," said Ashe.

  "Nice… he's going to shoot me."

  "Just after a little peace and quiet."

  "He shoots me to make me shut up!"

  "Would anything else do it?"

  "I'll shoot the pair of you in a minute," said Penelope. "It's like going on a trip with my young nephews."

  Carruthers had been keeping an eye on the mountainside, doing his best to ignore the squabbling between Ashe and Miles. "The wolves are still following," he said. "I can't see them, they're too quick for that, but after a few years of this you get to know when something's got you in its sights."

  "Like the bear?" Ashe asked.

  "All right," Carruthers admitted, "I'll admit that one crept up on me."

  "It crept up on all of us," Penelope added, happy to come to his defence. "And luckily no harm was done."

  "To us at least," added Miles, "Ashe here made sure the bear couldn't say the same."

"You complaining?" Ashe asked.

  "Not at all, I'd have kicked his hollow corpse off the mountain if I thought it a worthwhile way of expending energy. If anything else tries to eat us you have my heartfelt permission to blow its face off."

  "Consider it done."

  "When you've quite finished trading metaphorical gunfire," Carruthers interrupted, "I suggest we get moving. There's no doubt that we will be forced to spend another night on this godforsaken mountain and I, for one, am not looking forward to doing so in the elements."

  "Do you think we might find somewhere else to shelter?" Penelope asked.

  "It would seem logical," said Ashe. "Why build one if you're not going to build others?"

  "We can but hope," Carruthers replied.

  They continued their climb, always aware that they were being observed as they did so. The thin clouds fell down around them, scarves of chilling vapour that left their skin wet as they passed through them. Visibility dropped, and the whole mountain was shrouded in a white haze.

  "Now I get really nervous," Carruthers admitted. "I couldn't see the wolves before but at least we knew we would have a few moments' grace should they attack. If they come for us now then the first we'll know about it is when we smell their breath on our cheeks."

  "Cheery thought," Miles replied. "Revolver at the ready, Ashe."

"It never leaves my hand," came the reply.

  While tired there was no doubt that they were getting more used to their environment. The altitude and exertion took their toll but they made better progress than they had the day before. They took the same frequent breaks but lingered over them less, always eager to resume their journey in the hope of finding its conclusion. Even the absurdity of it began to wane; as with everything in the house, you could only be in awe for so long. Yes, they were climbing a mountain in a drawing room… but its location made it no less a geographical inconvenience and thinking about it didn't get you up the damned thing. That said, they still took a few moments to appreciate the bizarre sight that met them in one of the frequent grooves in the landscape: a pyramid of sofas that had solidified into a natural feature, paisley upholstery sparkling beneath its sheen of ice crystals.

  "I don't know much about art," said Miles, "but DFS have a corking sale on this year."

  "Do you have any idea how little the rest of us understand you?" asked Penelope with a smile.

  Miles chuckled. "I'm used to it, at least I entertain myself."

  "Great to be so easily pleased," Ashe commented, pushing past them and continuing up the stairs.

  Miles bent over to Penelope. "He's always buttering me up, do you think he fancies me?"

  Penelope snorted with laughter, giggling all the more at the baffled looks Ashe sent her way.

  They walked on and, as the afternoon passed, they once more became eager to find somewhere to spend the night. Carruthers was confident, despite what he had said to Ashe earlier. He knew that if the man believed they would find shelter then they likely would. He was uncomfortable with the man knowing much more than he let on, but he had to admit it set the mind at rest in some areas. Not only were they travelling with a worthwhile destination – otherwise why was he walking alongside them? – but there was little risk of a night of exposure ahead. He'd played that hand squarely when the subject had arisen. Hopefully it wouldn't be much further…

  They found the shelter half an hour before nightfall. A narrow tunnel leading to yet another furnished cave. There was a selection of sofas, a laid fire in the grate, even a small stove on which to heat their meagre supplies. Miles spent some considerable time circling the stove, looking for pipes or chimneys but finding none. For that matter he couldn't even find the fire… "I give up," he said in the end, "it's physically impossible but as long as it cooks our equally impossible food I for one will not be giving a toss."

  "What's on the musical menu, I wonder?" Penelope said, discovering a gramophone no less aged than the one they had used the night before. She held the disc up to the light. "Roger Whittaker?"

  Miles took it from her hands and threw it out of the cave. "My turn for a timely rescue," he said. "That could have been just as lethal as the bear."

  "Might I suggest," said Carruthers, "that we organise a rota to keep watch this evening? There is still the matter of a pack of wolves to be aware of. Catching us all asleep may be just the opportunity they were waiting for."

  "I've gone off the idea of sleeping a wink," admitted Miles.

  "Then you can have first watch," said Ashe. "I don't intend to lose all my sleep over it."

  "That's agreed then," said Carruthers with a smile. "You won't mind giving Miles the gun, of course? Hardly fair to expect him to stand guard without it."

  This clearly hadn't occurred to Ashe though he was quick to cover it. "Fair point," he admitted.

  "Excellent. We can break it down into shifts of two hours each. I'll go second with you seeing us through until dawn, Gregory."

  "And how does that work, exactly?" Penelope enquired. "There's four of us, in case you'd forgotten."

  "I'm sure all the gentlemen will agree that we're only too happy to take the burden."

  Miles put his hand up. Carruthers gave him no more than a brief glance. "Except for Miles, naturally, but then he loves sleep almost as much as he does the sound of his own voice."

  "Oi!" said Miles, though it was clear Carruthers was pulling his leg.

  "I will do my shift," Penelope insisted, folding her arms. "Just because I'm a woman doesn't mean I am any less capable, or do you think the mere sight of an overambitious fur muff will send me into hysterical panic?"

  "I wasn't meaning to suggest…"

  "Perhaps I will get distracted by thoughts of pretty dresses and ponies? Or maybe I'll be too busy fixing my makeup to notice as a naughty wolfikins starts chewing on Miles' legs?"

  Carruthers sighed. "Four shifts of an hour and a half each, Miles first, then Penelope, then me and finally you, Gregory, that all right?"

  "Fine," said Miles, "though I can't swear I won't be too busy thinking of fast cars and breasts to concentrate."

  Carruthers threw his hands up in the air. "That's it, mock a man for coming from a civilised age!"

  "One day she'll even be allowed to vote, you know," said Miles, "but for now… why haven't you made us our dinner, woman?"

  Penelope punched him on the arm. "Get working on the stove, boy, I'm hungry."

  "Yes, mistress." Miles tugged a nonexistent forelock. "Sorry, mistress, coming right up, mistress. You can help, Carruthers, old chap, by way of penance."

  They moved over to the stove, where Carruthers hoisted up his knapsack and dug out some tins of soup. "I say," he whispered, being careful they wouldn't be overheard, "do women really end up getting the vote in your day?"

  Miles chuckled. "Damn right they do, and why shouldn't they?"

  "No reason," Carruthers blustered. "I can see it might be something of an oversight in my era."

  "Now, as to whether they actually get anyone worth voting for… well, that's another story. But the emancipation of women is one of the biggest steps forward of the twentieth century. In fact they rule the world by 2010 and all men have to wear dresses."

  "No!"

  "And thongs… really pinchy ones that cut their way through your crack like a wire through cheese."

  Carruthers was baffled. "Again, I have no idea what you're talking about, though I suspect I am, as usual, being made a fool of."

  Miles smiled. "I'm pulling your leg, yes, but nobody could ever make you a fool."

  They dished up the food and it wasn't long before Carruthers, Penelope and Ashe took to their beds. Miles went to the cave entrance to smoke his sneaky cigar, Ashe's gun held tightly in his right hand. He practised aiming it, imagining himself a grizzled gunslinger or no-nonsense cop. Then he wondered why men never grew out of being utterly childish when it came to handling weaponry. Then he imagined being a cowboy for a bit more.

  His shift passed without incident, nothing but the wind stirring at the mouth of the cave. Though he nearly shot Penelope when she came to relieve him, so uptight was he due to the recurring mental image of wolves charging towards him.

  "Get yourself to bed," she said, once she had taken the gun from him. He started to speak but she interrupted him. "If you even try to tell me how the gun works I'll use it on you."

  "Actually, Annie Bloody Oakley, I was going to say I would have another cigar before bed if you didn't mind the company."

  "Oh… sorry."

  "No worries." Miles lit a cigar with a smile, not in the least bit wanting it but happy to have an excuse to hang around a bit longer.

  "So," he said clumsily, "you got a boyfriend back in New York?"

  "That would be Chester, the man who gave me the box and tried to rape me."

  "Oh… right… yes, of course." Miles considered shoving the cigar in his eye or perhaps head-butting the side of the cave until he just stopped
being
. In the end he did the only thing a man can in that situation. He tried to talk his way out of it. "I hadn't realised he was, you know, an actual boyfriend, just some passing nutter, you know…"

  "We were engaged to be married."

  "Narrow escape there then." Oh. Dear. God. Miles really wished he could stop his mouth moving. "I mean, you could have ended up marrying him and then… well… you know, that would have been… well… not worse, of course but–"

  "Do I make you nervous, Miles?"

  Miles stopped blathering. "Erm… a little bit. Sorry."

  "It's all right." Penelope smiled and kissed him on the cheek. "It's funny. Now finish your cigar and go to sleep before you say something
really
embarrassing."

  "Right, yes… good plan." Miles flung the cigar away, smiled in such an over-the-top way it made his face hurt, and skipped his way to bed.

 

The next thing he knew was the sound of a gunshot and Carruthers yelling: "They're coming!" Utterly disorientated, Miles leaped to his feet, nearly falling over as his still half-asleep brain tried to take control of his legs. The gun fired again and Carruthers was rolling back into the cave, a wolf bearing down on him. The gun skidded across the floor, and Ashe grabbed it even as another of the beasts leaped at him. He couldn't get the gun up in time but toppled to the floor, the wolf tearing at his coat with its fangs.

  Using his discarded socks as a glove, Miles grabbed a log from the fire. He thrust the flames at the wolf that was wrestling with Carruthers. The animal howled in pain and fled from the cave, the stench of burned hair following it like a second tail. Miles looked for Penelope, who was hurling the heavy gramophone at another of the animals, its stout wooden corner impacting against its skull with a crunch. Meanwhile Ashe had turned the gun on the wolf that was still tearing chunks from his coat. He put a bullet under its chin and out through the top of its head. He took a second shot at a wolf just entering the cave, then a third at one directly behind it.