Vampires Overhead (22 page)

‘No he hasn’t. Send him away. He only frightened me.’

‘You dirty swine!’ I swore viciously at Rhodes. ‘You drunken bum. Get out.’

‘Get out, is it?’ Rhodes jeered, grinned at Janet. ‘Let me tell youse blokes getting’ out don’t suit me just now. ’Ow about you getting out. You an’ your pal. Leavin’ me an’ me lady friend ’ere in peace. We was just agettin’ on ’til you busted up the party.’

Rhodes swung the knobbled leg of a table in one of his great hairy hands and grinned at me meaningly as he swung it.

‘Go on! Get goin’! We ain’t desirin’ of your company none. Get goin’ afore I ’as to take me little persuader to you.’

‘Rhodes, you saved my life just now. I’m telling you. Get out. You haven’t hurt the girl. Otherwise you’d never get out. Take a chance.’ As I spoke to him my eyes seached the room for a weapon. There was nothing closer than the sword Janet held. Never again would I go out without a weapon of some kind. I breathed heavily, cursingly. If only I had that axe from the inn! If only I’d brought it back with me!

I tensed to spring for the sword before Rhodes could swing at me with his weapon, when, behind me, Bingen whispered softly.

‘Get out of the way, Garry. Stand to one side. I’ve got a gun.’

A bang dropped plaster from the shattered ceiling, and Bingen stepped past me with a grin, the revolver pointed grimly in his hand. This was a chance to come back with flying colours, and Bingen took full advantage of it. He flung another shot at Rhodes which I swear couldn’t have missed that worthy’s ear by more than half an inch. The table leg dropped from the big tramp’s fist.

‘Going?’ Bingen grinned and moved from the door enticingly. ‘Get going. I might miss just missing again. Hand’s a bit shaky from too much booze.’

Rhodes made a spring for the door, but I stopped him with hands on his chest.

‘Honestly, Janet. He didn’t harm you?’ I asked. ‘Shall we let him go?’

‘Oh, please let him go. He didn’t touch me, and he’s drunk,’ Janet implored. ‘Make him go. Oh . . . if you hadn’t come back. Make him go.’

‘Make him? He’s dying to. Aren’t you?’ Bingen taunted Rhodes. ‘Well then.
g
o!’

I hesitated, swung my fist, and it happened that as my fist caught Rhodes under the chin, Bingen’s boot kicked him violently in the stern. Dusty Rhodes sprawled in the doorway. He lay mouthing curses at us, scowling, until Bingen banged another shot into the floor by the side of his head. That silenced him, and he got heavily to his feet, lurched out into the open. We watched him make towards the hill, climb slowly. On the top he turned, shaking a fist towards us, and his voice dropped down.

‘I’ll come back. I ain’t takin’ that from no one, let alone . . . like you. I’ll be back, an’ when I does come back I comes back with . . .’

Bingen fired at him again, and this time, I fancy, did not mean to miss, but we saw the bullet kick white dust from pebbles at Rhodes’s feet, and then the big tramp sprang back out of sight as a second bullet went whining over his head into the distance. We heard him running swiftly in the heather, scrambling and slipping on pebbles, and then his heavy boots clattered on the hard road. His footsteps died away.

‘Oh, Bingen! I’m so glad to see you again.’ Janet nearly wept. She caught his arm. ‘We thought we’d lost you, and then you come back just in time to save me from that brute.’

‘Aw! Me save you! It wasn’t me saved you. I saved Mister Rhodes.’ Bingen grinned shamefacedly. ‘I didn’t save you. I saved the big tramp.’

‘Saved him! Why? What d’you mean?’

‘Well, if I hadn’t had the gun, Garry here would have torn him apart.’ Bingen grinned and then reddened, his eyes dropped. ‘Janet, I’m ashamed of myself. I got out of hand and . . . but I’m not ashamed. I’ve had those things fastened on to me, and I reckon anyone, Garry here for instance, would have lost his nerve if it had happened to him.’

‘Of course I would,’ I agreed hastily. ‘But haven’t I told you to forget all that. It’s finished with.’

‘Yes. Don’t be silly. We understand. Let’s forget about it, and we three start all over again, being friends. Not that we were anything else.’ She went across to Bingen and wound an arm about him. ‘But, Bingen, I want you to promise me something, will you, please?’

‘I promise. What is it?’

‘Promise me that you won’t have too much to drink again, until things are better. Will you?’

‘I won’t,’ Bingen growled ruefully, rubbed himself where I had kicked him, and grinned.

We were three again. But I wished, ashamed of myself for wishing, Janet would not make quite such a fuss of him in front of me.

‘Dinner’s ready,’ Janet called presently. She had busied herself with a meal, listening, interjecting occasionally while Bingen and I told each other all that had occurred during our separation. She called again. ‘Garry’s ready for it. Aren’t you, Garry? And you’ll be hungry too, Bingen. What have you been getting to eat? Anything?’

‘Nothing. Only drinks.’

Upon the floor was the sack of provisions Rhodes had forgotten to take with him, and I grinned at the thought of him fleeing over the hills leaving us to enjoy his luxuries. But then, he had saved my life, and by saving mine had brought Bingen back to us. Despite Janet’s gesture of refusal I opened one of Dusty’s bottles to celebrate, and with the meal and the brandy inside us we felt the terrors of the preceding days slip away. We spent the remainder of the day lounging, joking, and I slept during the afternoon, making up for lost time. It was a great day, that day we recovered Bingen and dismissed Dusty Rhodes. Before we turned in at night I covered the well to make sure there would be no more adventures in it. We talked, Bingen and I, so that we slept late and woke to find Janet stepping past us from behind her curtain.

‘The weather’s wonderful.’ She greeted the blazing morning cheerfully. ‘It hasn’t been so hot even since that new planet appeared. I feel hotter than when I was on the boat and . . .’

‘Yes. It is hot. There might be something in what Bingen says. That somehow, in some manner we cannot understand, the weather, the new planet, and the Vampires are all connected,’ I answered her. ‘But, Janet, can you find something to potter about with here in the cave. Bingen and I have some work to do in the cottages. We want to get rid of . . . several things.’

‘I know,’ she said soberly. ‘Garry, there isn’t any need to hide things from me. I know. And now you know how old I am. I know what you are going to do.’

‘I thought you did, but that’s no reason why you should see what we are going to do. Come along, Bingen. Let’s get it over.’

We left her rolling up sleeves of her jersey preparatory to starting work upon the cave, and entered the cottage where the bodies were piled.

‘There’s a kind of shallow pit just over the hilltop,’ I told Bingen. ‘Bit of a job carrying ’em all over the hill, but the farther we get ’em away from the houses, the better. Get them up there in the pit, then we can fill it in and the valley will be safe for Janet to ramble in without getting any shocks.’

Three journeys, with the aid from the remains of a barrow Bingen discovered, removed everything, including the bodies of a goat, some pigs, and the cats and dogs. Among the dogs was a great shaggy-haired, bob-tailed sheep-dog I felt like crying over. Neatly we arranged them in the pit and set to work with pick and shovel. It was a long job and, under the blazing sun, a hard job. I was glad when it was done. Bingen worked like a navvy, glad of an excuse, I think, to ingratiate himself in my good books again. We tried hard to disguise the purpose of the new turned ground, cutting turfs, and smoothing them as well as we could, until we stood with aching backs to survey our handiwork.

‘I could do with something to eat and drink after that.’

‘Drink,’ Bingen grinned. ‘Drink! My mouth’s like the bottom of a parrot’s cage. Gosh! I could do with one of those barrels from The Blue Anchor.’

‘Yes? Well, the less you think about barrels or Blue Anchors the better it’ll be for everybody.’

‘Aw! All right! Don’t get shirty about it. I was only . . .’

‘I wasn’t getting shirty. Just a little reminder, that’s all.’

‘The less reminders I get about it the better I’ll like it,’ Bingen growled surlily. ‘If you’re going to harp on that, the best thing I can do is get out again.’

‘Get out. You’ll get knocked out, you damn fool, if you don’t forget it. But that’s Janet calling, isn’t it? She’s got the grub ready, I expect. Bingen, she’s a great kid.’

‘Don’t I know it. She’s the goods.’

I glanced sideways at Bingen to see a smile twisting his lips. We scrambled silently down into the valley.

‘Janet,’ I said, after the meal was over. ‘There’s a black cat in the cave next door. It came out to me yesterday, but ran back again when those three Vampires visited us. It’ll come to you. Run along and see if you can coax it out.’

‘Cat!’ she cried. ‘Why, for Heaven’s sake, didn’t you tell me before?’

She was off, jumping lightly over the fence, and we heard her calling persuasively. Lounging, Bingen and I stared into the sky.

‘Bingen. You know the pub you were in . . .’

‘Are you going to bring that . . .’

‘Don’t be foolish, and let me speak. There were some chickens there. The peculiar run of steelwork they were in saved them, I suppose. They couldn’t be got at. I’ve a mind to go down there and get them. And those houses. I’d like to have a look round there. They were so little harmed.’

‘We don’t want to risk getting back after dark. D’you think we’ll have time this afternoon?’

‘I think so. It can only be round about noon.’ I squinted up at the sky. ‘The sun’s just about mid-heaven.’

‘That’s not much to go by,’ Bingen answered, and rose slowly. ‘That blamed sun’s been directly overhead like it is in the tropics ever since that blasted comet first appeared. Come along then. We’ll chance it.’

‘I’ve got it.’ Janet returned, and in her arms nestled, frightened, the black cat. Upon one of her arms a long red scratch gave evidence the cat had been taken forcibly, but now it seemed fairly content. ‘Why, where are you two off to?’

‘We’re going to have a trip down the road a little way. I saw some chickens, and thought we’d try to get ’em before something happens to them.’

‘What about taking me?’ she asked.

‘We can’t take you. You’ll be better off here. Don’t roam away from the cave, and be ready to nip and pull the barrier after you. You see, if you came with us we’d have to look after you all the time, and by ourselves we’ll get along quicker.’

‘Supposing you go off, and I stay here to look after her,’ Bingen suggested offhandedly. ‘How about that?’

‘Fine. You sit here smoking while I trudge up that hill with a load of live chickens over my shoulder. Fine! But not so fine on second thoughts.’

‘You needn’t carry them. The barrow.’

‘That is a fine idea. Get the barrow then. Two of us pushing, that won’t be any trouble getting back up the hill.’

‘All right,’ Bingen assented sulkily. ‘Let’s get off then.’

Janet smiled at us mischievously, received my express orders not to stray far from the cave, and watched Bingen seize the barrow to pull it heavily out of the valley. From the top we waved back to her and then set off rapidly towards the chickens.

‘I’ll give you a hand with the barrow, Bingen.’

‘No. It’s light enough.’

‘Your turn to push it downhill, empty, and mine to push it back loaded. Eh?’

Bingen scowled, and I laughed at him.

‘Don’t be sulky just because you couldn’t stay behind with the girl, Bingen.’