Dave Trellis and the Allotments of Doom (10 page)

Over
the last month, beset by constant attacks by these demons, until
they reached the walls of Eboracum. Yet they are not beasts, there
is cunning and strategy in their actions. They were not many, yet
were strong and tough; we had not injured even one. We watched them
gather for another attack in the early evening gloom. Then they
disappeared. There was no sound or lightening in the sky as if the
gods had struck them down.

The
Druids returned today and claimed their reward. I therefore ask
that you honour my promise and grant Druid sanctuaries at the
agreed sites.

Dave took a sip
of whiskey, his impatience showing as Fergus read.

‘What does it
say lad? Anything useful?’

‘Very useful,
if it’s true. It implies that there is some controlling entity here
in the catacombs that has the power to get rid of unwelcome
visitors. It sounds like the effects of that ‘last line of defence’
I saw in Enoch’s recording.’

‘Ha, that’s
terrific,’ said Dave and reached over to touch his glass against
Fergus’s, ‘Let’s have a read then.’

While Dave
read, Fergus looked around the room and sipped his whiskey. Without
thinking, he stroked the head of the dog curled up in the next
basket. On the second stroke he found his hand grasped in the dog’s
teeth. It stared at him.

‘Sorry, old
habit,’ said Fergus. The dog let Fergus’s hand go.

Dave looked up
from the printed sheets and grinned.

‘This is very,
very good news. The Druids kept accurate records for their day and
their verbal histories go back eons. We may be able to find out
more about this entity. It certainly seems tied in with the setup
here. Well done lad, this could be a viable option.’

‘Would such an
entity still be alive after all this time?’

‘Our concept of
time is skewed. That’s why the murgatroyds didn’t notice our
progress over the last hundred years. These off world types think a
thousand of our years as a long lunch.’

‘Well how do we
know it’s accurate?’

‘A murgatroyd
wouldn’t keep it unless its providence was impeccable and it
certainly wouldn’t trade it. Their reputation is everything,
without that they are just speed humps on the smooth road of the
Universe.

So change of
plan; we try and reach this entity. I will set a deadline, if we
don’t get things sorted in time, then the authorities are informed
and let battle commence. Mind you, a trip to the deeper part of the
catacombs is highly dangerous. We may not survive.’

Dave fell
silent and stared into the fire, nursing his glass.

‘Do you want to
survive Dave?’

‘Sometimes I’m
not sure. I’ve lost nearly everything I loved; these allotments are
the only thing left. I’ll fight for them, but I don’t know if
surviving means that much anymore.’

‘Would these
allotments survive without you though?’ asked Fergus.

Dave was quiet
for a moment and then looked at Fergus.

‘Keep calm and
carry on,’ said Dave and smiled.

‘Always a good
plan. So what do we do now?’

‘We seek more
information.’

‘So it’s back
to the authorities after all?’ asked Fergus.

‘No lad, we
need to make a trip to London. I think it’s time we visited the
Dark Library. If this works out then perhaps we can save the Earth
and the allotments.

The dog next to
Fergus barked softly.

‘No chance,’
said Dave.

The dog barked
louder and yowled for a while.

‘Ok then,
that’s a deal,’ said Dave.

‘What?’ asked
Fergus.

‘Muttley here
wants to come along and he has persuaded me, after a suitable
bribe, to agree. He also said if you touch him again without his
permission, he’ll bite your balls off.’

Dave
Trellis

One
Life, One Woman, One Shed

‘Come on lad,
let’s get going,’ said Dave.

The battered
tandem had a large lamp strapped to the front of an enormous
basket. In the basket sat a dog, which looked at Fergus and
barked.

‘Um, Dave,
you’re not thinking of going to London on that are you? I can
peddle for England, but even at full tilt it’ll take days.’

‘And what do
you suggest?’

‘Well, a car,
preferably a fast one.’

‘Can’t be doing
with them, too noisy and you never get to appreciate countryside.
Any road, we’d never get one into catacombs.’

‘Dave, I
appreciate the joys of cycling, but we need to get to London
fast.’

‘I know it lad
or I wouldn’t go this way. I’d take the train and a good book. This
is the fastest way to London; we’ll be there in half an hour.’

‘What? You
going to make this heap of crap fly?’

‘No lad, we’ll
take the M7 direct to London.’

‘There is no
M7. M6 sure, M8 definitely, but no M7,’ said Fergus.

‘Not on your
maps, true, but for those that know, the M7 is grand. Come on
saddle up, I’ll steer, you peddle.’

‘What about the
dog?’

‘Don’t be daft
lad; his paws won’t reach the pedals.’

Five minutes
later, the big lamp on the front illuminated the rock walls of the
catacombs and the air smelt of warm cinnamon.

‘Peddle harder,
we need to go faster,’ said Dave.

Fergus pumped
the pedals and they shot ahead at a tidy lick.

‘You might want
to shut your eyes for a bit,’ shouted Dave over the wind and
creaking gears.

‘What? Is this
bit secret?’ shouted Fergus.

‘No, it’s just
bloody frightening, just keep peddling, and do not stop. Here we go
... Arrgggghhhh.’

Fergus joined
Dave in a quick scream and the dog yowled as they charged towards a
dead end. The rock wall was grey with a slight white discolouration
toward the top and Fergus would be able to describe it in detail
for year to come. Fergus shut his eyes.

There was no
crash, no pain, and no tiresome wheel repairs. Fergus smelt fresh
air and felt sunlight on his face; he opened his eyes.

The tandem was
cruising along a smooth tarmac path down the side of a cutting.
There were trees and wild flowers along the sides and the bottom
was a wide flat road. It looked like a disused railway line. The
sky seemed green, rather than blue, Fergus put that down to
shock.

‘You alright
lad?’ asked Dave.

‘I’m fine, just
a little surprised.’

‘Well put your
back into it then, we haven’t got all day.’

Fergus
dutifully pushed on the pedals and the tandem sped down the
cutting. By the time they hit the bottom, the tandem was doing
thirty miles an hour. The wheel bearings whined and the breeze
whistled past. Tears formed in Fergus’s eyes and flowed back
towards his ears. Dave stuck his head back and put his legs in the
air. The dog, paws up on the edge of the basket, pushed its nose
into the breeze and enjoyed every minute.

After a while
Dave yelled, ‘Stop peddling.’

The tandem
slowed to a halt, the dog leapt out and headed for the
embankment.

‘Come on lad
I’ll show something impressive.’

Dave scuffed
the ground with his boot, scrapping away a thin layer of mud and
moss. Underneath was a flat, grey surface. Dave polished away with
the sole of his boot until the structure was visible. It was a
smooth, cobbled road, but each cobblestone fitted the next exactly,
like the shell of a huge stone tortoise.

Fergus knelt
down for a better look. The cobblestones were distorted as if
heated to the consistency of marshmallow and squashed together.

‘Is it all like
this?’ asked Fergus.

‘Oh aye,’ said
Dave, ‘All eight hundred miles of it.’

‘Eight hundred
miles? You’d run out of country.’

‘It’s a long
story. One day I might tell you all about it. Until then a word of
caution, under no circumstances go past the Huddersfield junction.
Seriously, that is the road not travelled by.’

Dave paused and
looked into the distance, where the road met the horizon.

‘Are you
alright Dave?’

‘Ah it’s
nothing, just history, times gone by. Let get going.’

After ten
minutes of breakneck cycling, they rounded a gentle curve and saw a
green hill ahead. The road just stopped and the hill started.

‘Just keep
peddling,’ shouted Dave over the rushing wind.

Fergus slowed a
bit as the hill loomed.

‘Ok, that’s
enough,’ said Dave and Fergus let the tandem freewheel to a
halt.

They sat on a
tandem, half way up the slope of a gentle hill. Fergus looked back;
there was no road, just more hill and a single bike track in the
grass that started 20 yards behind them.

‘Where’s the
road gone?’ asked Fergus.

‘Don’t worry,
it’s just hidden. We can’t see it, but your mutt there can. One of
the three reasons I let it come along. Don’t bother trying to find
the entrance; you need to be going at least 10 miles an hour to get
through. Mind you with those new legs of yours you could make it.
Any road, leave the bike there.’

Fergus dropped
the bike on its side and followed Dave up the hill. From the top
Fergus could see a city stretching into the distance.

‘That’s London
isn’t it?’ asked Fergus.

‘Aye lad,
London. One of the greatest cities on the planet and over-rated
like the rest of em.’

‘So how did we
get here so quickly?’

‘The M7, told
you it was useful.’

‘Ok, but how?
We only cycled about 7 miles.’

Dave sighed.
‘Ok, time and space are constant, thus if you distort time, space
is similarly distorted. Hence the reduced timeframe of the M7,
reduces the distance to London. In exactly the same way that time
contracts in a pub and your walk home is very short.’

‘That’s
bollocks,’ said Fergus.

‘Aye, utter
bollocks, but any science so far advanced of our meagre grasp, must
be considered magic. So any old load of cobblers will suffice.
Let’s just say, that the Cycling Gods looked down on us and blew a
celestial breeze to speed us on our way.’

Before them
sprawled the western suburbs of London, they could just see Kew
Gardens in the distance.

‘How are we
going to get there? Walk?’ asked Fergus.

‘No lad, we’ll
go the same way I did the first time I came. You’ll see, just over
that way, beyond those trees. Come on.’

‘Of course,
bureaucrats can’t do owt without sticking a number on it and they
started digging it right after the M6, so M7 it was. Course, you
can’t get on it now, all security cameras and roadblocks with armed
guards. So the road we travelled isn’t the M7, I just call it
that,’ said Dave.

Fergus pulled
on the oars of the rowing boat, half-listening to Dave, who sat on
a padded seat, resting his elbow on the ornamental, wrought iron
armrest. The sun glittered on the gentle waters of the Thames and
Fergus enjoyed the peace and calm.

The dog gave a
short, happy bark.

‘Not yet,’ said
Dave and the dog grumbled something.

‘You an all,’
said Dave and then sighed, ‘Oh alright then.’ The dog barked again,
bounced up and set its paws on the gunwale; the boat rocked.

‘So lad, you
ready for a spot of lunch?’ asked Dave and nodded towards the
wicker picnic hamper in the bottom of the boat.

‘I thought we
were in a hurry? I can’t row and eat you know,’ said Fergus.

‘Don’t worry
about that; the library doesn’t open till eleven. I’ve been marking
time and making that ungrateful mutt wait an all. Ship those oars
and make yourself comfortable.’

Dave opened the
hamper and pulled out a dog harness and a long length of stout
rope; both looked brand new.

‘Tie that end
to the cleat near the prow, while I get Muttley here, into the
harness,’ said Dave.

A short while
later, the dog leapt into the water. There was a large splash and
with water churning behind it, the dog started towing the boat.
Soon they were creating a large bow wave. The dog churned the water
into froth and the boat started tilting.

‘Oi slow down,’
yelled Dave, ‘there is an eight knot speed limit you know.’

The boat
settled on an even keel and Dave set the hamper on the bench next
to him.

‘Let’s see what
we have. I ordered pate, fresh bread, cheese and a suitable red
wine. I also asked them to throw in a small salad, just in case you
were of that persuasion.’

Dave and
settled back into the padded bench, with a glass of passable Shiraz
and a plateful of food. They cruised down the Thames with a gentle
breeze taking the heat out of the early summer sunshine.

‘Ah, isn’t this
just lovely.’

‘Gorgeous,’
said Fergus, ‘I can hardly believe that an hour ago we were in
Huddersfield and now we are gliding down the Thames in a
dog-powered rowing boat. This is all rather organised Dave, how did
you manage it?’

‘Harrods and
Visa – a powerful combination.’

‘Didn’t think
you were the credit card type Dave?’

‘Needs must
lad. The trappings of modern living and technology have their uses.
Take for instance the satellite phone. Instant untraceable
communication from anywhere on the planet; add in some strong
encryption and you can talk to anyone without that meddling,
interfering bunch of idiots listening in or tracking your
movements.’

‘So you’re not
one for governments then Dave?’

‘They have
their place lad; specifically not in your pocket and not in your
business. What about you? Vote for this shower did you?’

‘Yes, I thought
they were better than the last bunch and I didn’t expect them to
turn out just the same.’