Dave Trellis and the Allotments of Doom (6 page)

‘Did I say
something wrong?’ asked Fergus.

‘It’s nothing
lad, let’s go and see the catacombs.’

As they walked
back towards the pavilion, Dave stopped and stared at a patch of
grass a few yards away. He reached down, picked up a handful of
soil, and threw it over the grass.

The thrown
earth showed up a large rounded shape. It looked like a small
Volkswagen Beetle or perhaps a huge tortoise.

‘Hmm, a
Murgatroyd,’ said Dave, ‘Most hated species in the known universe.
We have quite a few of em, considering that they are so very rare.
They have a real knack with the electromagnetic spectrum; can bend
light round a doorpost, which makes for superb camouflage. They can
live for a month on a glimmer of sunlight if they wanted; which
makes it all the more strange that they eat so much grass. Still,
it keeps the land around here looking nice and tidy. Interesting
creatures mind and very, very knowledgeable.’

‘Why are they
hated so much?’ asked Fergus.

‘Have a chat
with one of them and you’ll soon find out. We named them after
cricketers as they spend most of their time standing around on
grass. This one’s probably Atherton, he’s the baby of the bunch and
hangs around the allotments quite a bit. The rest of them tend to
skulk about the bottom of the river.’

‘Oi Atherton,’
shouted Dave. A response, in bright blue letters about a foot high,
shimmered in the air.

REQUEST FOR
COMMUNICATION – HUMAN, TRELLIS DESIGNATION

RESPONSE –
NULL

‘See lad, we
are not worthy of their high and mighty attention.’

‘Hello,’ said
Fergus.

REQUEST FOR
COMMUNICATION – CHIMERA NOT DESIGNATED

RESPONSE –
INTEREST, SCANNING

‘Argh, that
hurts stop it. Stop it!’ yelled Fergus as he jumped around rubbing
his chest and stomach.

‘Stand still,’
shouted Dave, ‘It’ll still hurt, but if you dance around like a
fairy it’ll take longer. It won’t stop scanning ‘til it’s
finished.’

Fergus stood
still, swearing with much repetition and a lack of originality.

Dave had a grin
on his face.

‘The chimera
bit will be Enoch’s field repair; you’re now part Palaver. Mind
you, I thought they knew all about that.’

The bright blue
letters disappeared and replaced with a new message.

REQUEST FOR
COMMUNICATION TO THREE SPECIES CHIMERA NOT DESIGNATED

WHAT IS YOUR
ORIGINATION?

Dave stared at
Fergus.

‘Three? Where
did the other one come from? No. No don’t answer that. You’ve
interested one of them miserable buggers; we can trade that
information. Keep your trap shut.’

‘I don’t
understand Dave. I’m just a normal bloke.’

‘Keep it under
your hat lad, we can bargain for something useful, like fusion
power or the cure for cancer. Tell them nowt.’

‘Like I said
Dave, it must be wrong. I’m just normal.’

‘There’s a
chance that a Murgatroyd made a mistake, but no matter. It thinks
you’re interesting and that’s a saleable commodity in this here
neck of the woods. Let’s get off to the catacombs; it won’t be able
to detect what we say down there.’

Fergus
marvelled at the superb stonework of the tall arched entrance.

‘This looks
like a tunnel entrance on Brunel’s Great Western Railway.’

‘Nah, not
Brunel,’ said Dave, ‘Shoddy; William T Shoddy. I reckon he could
have gone a long way if it weren’t for his name.’

They walked
into the dark entrance of the catacombs. The floor angled down
steeply; Fergus thought it would be better with steps.

‘I could swear
there’s something I’ve forgotten,’ said Dave.

As the light
from the entrance faded, the descent was not as steep, but they
were still going down.

‘I don’t
suppose you have a torch or anything?’ asked Fergus, ‘It’s getting
quite dark’

‘Just keep
walking straight ahead. The lights will come on automatically once
we’re recognised.’

Now completely
dark, they walked on, their footfalls echoing off the stone walls,
and the floor still tilting down. The air surprised Fergus, it was
warm and didn’t smell damp; instead it smelt of cinnamon.

‘Ah! Dave
something’s on me; it’s big and it’s moving.’

‘Of course!
Roof spiders; they don’t know who you are. Just stand still lad and
I’ll try to contact the Hive-mind. Oh, and think happy, harmless
thoughts, fluffy kittens that sort of thing.

‘Spiders don’t
live in a hive.’

‘These do, it’s
a bit like St Paul’s Cathedral, lovely architecture. But if I were
you lad, I would be thinking nice thoughts and not blathering.
These lads can strip a man down to his bones in about 30 seconds.
Strangely they always leave the eyes and the testicles; I reckon
they don’t like the texture.’

‘There’re three
now. Can you hurry up Dave?’ Fergus’s voice sounded strained.

‘Hold hard
there tiger, can’t rush this telepathy stuff, it’s all a bit vague,
emotions and the like. Keep thinking kittens, we’ve got loads of
seconds before they pounce.’

They stood in
silence and total darkness for a small eternity then suddenly
Fergus yelped.

‘They’re all
over me, everywhere. Get em off. Get em off.’

‘Whatever you
do, don’t move,’ yelled Dave, ‘Movement triggers their attack
reflex.’

‘Ow!. One of
them bit me! Help, help me pleeeease.’

‘Oh, alright
then.’

Suddenly there
was light as Dave shined a torch on Fergus. Orange spiders covered
him from head to foot, each about the size of a baseball mitt. One
was hanging on Fergus’s face. Dave sniggered.

‘Come on now,
clear off,’ Dave made shooing gestures with his hands and grinned
from ear to ear. ‘Sling yer hook, joke’s over.’

The spiders
made high-pitched whistling sounds.

‘No, that’s the
end of the game I mean it, fun’s over.’

Dave stopped
shooing and burst into laughter.

‘You should see
your face,’ said Dave and started coughing.

The spiders
dropped off Fergus and scampered away. Soon he was standing,
spider-free in the wavering torch beam as Dave chuckled.

‘That was not
funny,’ said Fergus.

‘Oh yes it was,
even the spiders laughed. The Hive-mind thought you’d wet yourself.
Hang on, one of them left a little calling card.’

Dave reached
over and flicked a small pellet of spider dropping off Fergus’s
shoulder. More high-pitched whistling burst out above and Dave
started giggling again.

‘That was a
bloody rotten thing to do.’

‘Now lad, they
were going to clamber all over you anyway as they needed to measure
you; now they have your scent, your DNA, your electrical field
pattern, and most important, your psychic profile. This way, I get
a laugh, the spiders get a laugh and we have something to entertain
the crowd this afternoon.’

Fergus glowered
at Dave.

‘Just joking,
forgot the video camera.’

Fergus’s lips
were a thin white line and his eyebrows threatened to meet in the
middle.

‘Look lad, the
Roof spiders are a vital line of defence that keep the more
unpleasant catacomb denizens from spreading far and wide. They take
their duties seriously and would never let you in until you were
measured.’

‘You mean there
are even more unpleasant things in here?’

‘Oh aye,
There’s Plum mosquitoes – ‘

‘Live on plums
do they?’

‘No, they are
really big and when they drop off after feeding, they look like
Victoria plums. There’s Rattlesnake Wasps –’

‘So they rattle
as they fly?’

‘No they don’t,
but their sting is roughly as toxic as a Rattlesnake bite.’

‘Why do you let
these things come here, they don’t sound like intelligent beings,
just pests.’

‘Well you can’t
stop them, they get in any way. In luggage mainly, but a few of
them are part of the eco system. You can’t grow all things on an
allotment; think of the catacombs as part hotel, part farm.’

‘Has it got
rats?’

‘Yes, Calico
rats.’

‘I hate
rats.’

‘Not these
lads. They are playful as kittens, covered in the softest pink fur
and when you stroke them they purr. If Walt Disney ever invented a
cartoon rat –’

‘Ever hear of
Mickey Mouse?’ said Fergus.

‘Oh aye, but as
I was saying lovely creatures, they smell of cinnamon you know.

‘Cinnamon?’
said Fergus and looked up to the roof.

‘Yeah,
unfortunately they taste of it too. The Roof spiders love ‘em.’

Finally the
lights came on illuminating the catacombs brightly. Fergus looked
up; an orange carpet of spiders covered the rocky ceiling. They
walked on through the tunnel, descending ever deeper, the light
fading behind and brightening ahead; it was a normal tunnel so far;
Fergus had expected something extraordinary.

Dave stopped
and looked at Fergus, he was no longer grinning.

‘Ok here we go;
the famous catacombs tour. Keep your arms in the vehicle at all
times if you want to go home with the same number you came with. Do
not poke anything or you’ll lose your finger. If it looks
interesting, it’s probably dangerous, so do not mess with it. If at
any time I start screaming and run away; stay exactly where you are
and do not move. My life is more important and the time taken to
dismember and eat your body will give me a head start. Please be
aware that while humorous, none of this is actually a joke.’

Dave raised his
eyebrows and inclined his head towards Fergus.

‘Is it really
that dangerous?’

‘Oh aye,’ said
Dave, ‘It’s the most dangerous place on the planet, with the
exception of Camden on a Saturday night. On the other hand there
are wonders beyond compare. The Caves of Ice, the Sunless sea and
great big caverns –’

‘How big?’

‘I dunno I
never measured them. Oh and there are Threshers, Demons, Dancing
rocks and the most fantastic –’

‘Dave, I think
I might be suffering from wonder-overload. Any chance I can just
sit down and have a beer?’

Dave looked at
Fergus, he was pale, and his ear bled from the spider bite. He
looked like a child lost in a supermarket.

‘Ahhh you poor
lad, it is a bit over-whelming at first. We’ll do the tour another
day, let’s get back to the allotments. Come on, we’ll go this way,
it’s just as quick and I want to show you one last thing.’

Dave slung an
arm over Fergus’s shoulder and guided him further into the
catacombs. After a while, Dave took a sharp left turn and they
entered a circular tunnel. Soon they started walking up a low metal
ramp.

‘This is the
return pipe,’ said Dave pointing to the floor, ‘Takes the heated
water all the way back to the Caves of Ice, where it’s cooled. It
keeps this part of the catacombs nice and warm.’

‘Sorry?’

‘The cooling
system,’ said Dave, ‘For the machine.’

Fergus looked
blank.

‘The
transportation machine,’ said Dave, ‘It needs cooling. This pipe
returns the hot water and once it’s cooled it flows back into the
machine again.’

‘Uh huh, so
where’s the cold water pipe.’

Dave looked up
and sighed.

‘I thought you
were bright; physics student and all. The river Alf is the cold
pipe.’

Suddenly the
scale of things dawned on Fergus. They were walking over the top
part of a pipe that must be 100 foot in diameter.

‘But…’

‘Aye lad, it is
a bloody big machine. Now come on, I want to show you my official
residence, I call it Xanadu.’

Dave
Trellis

One
Life, One Woman, One Shed

Fergus stood on
the marble floor, staring up at the soaring roof with its intricate
plasterwork and ceiling murals.

‘This is a
palace,’ said Fergus ‘The statues alone must have cost a
fortune.’

‘Aye, it is
over the top. A bit, ‘glorious empire school of interior
decorating’, but then it was built at the height of the British
Empire. This is the main reception room; the rest is more down to
earth. Any road I wanted you to see this.’ Dave pointed to a tall,
thin gilt frame hanging on the wall.

Fergus stepped
closer to take a look. A few minutes passed.

‘There are so
many verses? What about the person from Porlock?’ asked Fergus.

‘Dog from
Porlock more like,’ said Dave ‘He put in too much information. The
dogs gave him a choice he could keep the poem or keep his
testicles.’

‘But…’

Dave raised his
eyebrows and smiled.

‘Xanadu... It’s
here?’

‘Aye. The
original started ‘In Huddersfield’ and that had to go, but I liked
the name Xanadu so I use it for this place. Anyway, I thought it
would give you a sense of the history, a feel for the ‘hidden in
plain view’ way it all works.’

‘Well, it’s an
eye-opener.’

‘Good. Glad you
liked it. Now let’s be getting on, we’ve time to see the guest
rooms.’

Dave guided
Fergus around the official residence, pointing out pleasant
Victorian style bedrooms for honoured guests and plain, simple
rooms for other visitors. The whole place was pleasant, but the
lack of windows gave a claustrophobic feel.

‘So Dave, how
do honoured guest get down here? Walk through the catacombs?’

‘No, there’s a
lift, it rises up into courtyard. All this was built when we
expected official visitors, expected humanity to be welcomed with
open arms by off world society. Fat bloody chance. Nobody came. All
this a waste; hubris; followed inevitably by nemesis.’

Dave opened a
plain door and behind it a small, scruffy service lift. The lift
rattled upwards and they stepped out onto a small landing with a
white panelled door.