Dave Trellis and the Allotments of Doom (7 page)

‘And this is
me, come on.’

Fergus followed
Dave into a large living room with floor to ceiling bookshelves,
portraits on the walls and a wide fireplace surrounded by a comfy
armchair and dog baskets. Over the mantelshelf was a life size
portrait of a young woman; her face was lovely. A small label read
‘Lady Catherine Trellis’. Fergus pointed at the portrait.

‘A striking
looking woman,’ said Fergus.

‘Aye, she is
that,’ said Dave.

‘An
ancestor?’

‘Something like
that, but the title wasn’t hereditary.’

A Georgian
style window showed a view of the allotments looking back towards
the escarpment. Sunlight poured in and lit the whole room.

‘It’s a simple
bit of off-world tech,’ said Dave waving towards the window, ‘A
conceit I know, but I can’t stand living without a decent view.
Come on this way.’

Dave led Fergus
through a wide hallway into an open plan kitchen, complete with
tiled floor, Aga range and huge pine kitchen table. Under the table
was another set of dog baskets. A window looked towards the Black
weir further down the river Alf. It was homely and comfortable.

‘Sit yourself
down lad. We’ll have a cuppa before the festivities start,’ said
Dave and put the kettle on.

Fergus sat at
the table with his feet in a dog basket.

‘Do the dogs
sleep down here then?’ asked Fergus.

‘They like to
keep me company, seems they worry about me for some daft reason.
Anyways, they have a whole kennel complex down here somewhere. Very
private your dogs, don’t like visitors. If you want sugar it’s on
table’.

Dave plonked
down two large brews and sat opposite Fergus.

‘So what do you
think?’ asked Dave.

‘About
what?’

‘The allotments
you daft bugger. Do you want to stay and help out?’

‘Oh, the
allotments; they are incredible, fantastic with the most beautiful
green eyes –’

‘Focus on the
allotments. Do you want to stay and help keep things in order?’

‘Yes, actually
I would. This is the most exciting yet painful experience I’ve ever
had. What’s the pay like?’

‘Nowt.’

‘Not much of an
offer.’

‘That’s
balanced by free accommodation and all costs.

‘So I can live
in a place like this?’ asked Fergus.

‘No, but
there’re other apartments, small and unfurnished. They’ll need
decorating and there’s local tradesman familiar with allotments, so
you won’t have to do it all yourself. I can meet the costs of
decoration and like; allotments are well funded.’

‘To be honest
Dave, I was set on helping out for free.’

‘So you
accept?’

‘Yes, oh indeed
yes.’

Dave looked
relieved and happy. He stuck out his hand and Fergus shook it.

‘You know
you’re the first bloke to turf up here in years that isn’t a
complete bloody idiot,’ said Dave. ‘Glad to have you aboard. At
least we’ll have something to celebrate at this bash. It’ll be
starting soon and I have to give a speech, so finish your tea and
I’ll get changed. If you’re in a hurry, the lift is behind that
door over there; it comes out in the pavilion.’

‘Rugby Boy,
stand up.’ Enoch’s Japanese clog kicked Fergus on the boot.

Fergus
struggled to his feet and stood next to the towering Palaver
dressed as a Geisha girl. Dave droned on in vague pleasantries for
the a few minutes; then paused and his voice rang out in a stronger
tones.

‘
They
shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:

Fergus’s
thoughts turned to his lost parents and his eyes welled up. He was
a little ashamed until he noticed the tears falling down Enoch’s
face. The crowd remained silent as Dave lowered the Union flag to
half-mast.

After a full
minute, Dave took a sip of water, sniffed and carried on:

‘And now the
lighter side. The food’s ready and the bar’s open, but before you
all rush off, please give a huge round of applause for the Palaver
Players and their version of The Mikado.

‘Hey big man,
break a leg,’ said Fergus.

‘Who’s you
suggest Rugby Boy?’ said Enoch and headed for the stage.

Fergus watched
the performance and despite the enormous height of the three little
girls from school, the mincing was perfect. Strange to hear those
famous songs in a deep baritone, yet the crowd loved it and
applauded long and loud.

After the show
Fergus tried to mingle. He chatted to a few of the other guests,
but really he wanted to see Boadicea and she was still backstage.
He sat on the veranda nursing a pint of bitter and watched the
party.

‘Hey Rugby Boy,
hear you helping out. Good. Dave needs company,’ said Enoch and sat
in the chair next to Fergus.

‘Why? He seems
fine to me and I still don’t understand this entire flag at
half-mast stuff.’

‘That why I
here. You think I want company? I show you.’ Enoch reached over and
stuck a thin, flat disk on Fergus’s forehead. ‘Is recording, very
real, don’t be little girl.’

The party
disappeared and Fergus felt disorientated. His point of view
changed and the party around him was a different one. Fergus
realised this was Enoch’s recording; it was incredibly real.

Dave
stood holding a glass and Enoch walked up.

‘
Yes
what is it Enoch?’ said Dave.

‘
Something not invited,’ said Enoch, ‘Better look.’

‘
It’s about time we got that thing fitted with an
alarm.’

A
sudden scream, the recording pitched sideway and the view obscured
by a brown shape with many legs. A crunching sound and the view
retuned. On the ground was a broken shape that looked a lot like a
spider with six legs. It was four foot across.

Suddenly brown spiders were leaping everywhere, people lay on
the ground, and there was blood on the lawn.

‘
Close the portcullis, don’t let them escape,’ shouted Dave
and two Palaver leapt towards the barbican.

A
defensive line formed with tables turned on their sides and people
brandishing chairs. The Palaver, each with a huge broadsword leapt
about repelling the attack. There were hundreds of spiders, leaping
twenty feet and more to bite and slash at their victims. They just
kept coming, pressing the defenders hard.

‘
Get
in the pavilion,’ yelled Dave, ‘No, not you, you clod, you’ve got a
sword get out there and kill them.’

Dave
herded the unarmed and the injured into the pavilion, as Enoch and
the Palaver defended desperately, slicing attacking spiders into a
slimy, crunchy mess on the lawn.

Suddenly there was barking dogs everywhere; dogs leaping to
catch a spider and rip off its legs with powerful shakes; dogs
slamming down paws first on crouching spiders. Enoch leaping in
great bounds, slicing spiders left and right, dodging dogs and
laughing.

‘
Keep them out of the bloody catacombs,’ shouted Dave and six
dogs charged through the hoard of spiders to protect the
entrance.

Soon
the remaining spiders retreated to the courtyard below, the initial
surprise attack repulsed.

‘
Enoch,’ shouted Dave, ‘Form a defensive perimeter and try to
find some weapons.’

‘
Ok
Dave, but no weapons, this dress uniform, not combat.’

‘
What’s that in your bloody hand, a cheese
sandwich?’

‘
Oh
swords, we got swords.’

Enoch
grinned, reached behind his head and started pulling out swords. A
sabre, a katana, a cutlass, three broadswords of different lengths
and a claymore. Similar piles appeared next to the other
Palaver.

Soon a
solid defence faced the milling crowd of spiders with an outer
perimeter of Palaver holding two swords each, with a dog beside
them and an inner ring of humans.

The
courtyard glowed green.

‘
Good news Dave, re-enforcements,’ shouted Enoch and
grinned.

Suddenly the courtyard was filled to the brim with spiders,
all churning and milling as they climbed over each other. There
were thousands of them.

‘
Oh
bugger,’ said Dave.

The
spiders attacked. A living, brown wave swelled out of the courtyard
and swept towards the top terrace.

‘
Stuff embargo,’ yelled Enoch, ‘AAAARROOOOOGAAH!’

As
one, the Palaver dropped their swords, reached behind their heads
and drew out huge rifles. As one, they fired. Like a leaf blower
hitting a pile of dry leaves, brown bodies flew everywhere. The
noise was unbelievable, like a thousand children running sticks
along iron railings.

The
wave of spiders retreated to the courtyard.

‘
Grenades.’ yelled Enoch.

Huge
explosions shook the allotments and the courtyard disappeared,
hidden by a fountain of brown bodies. The palaver stopped firing;
the only sound was the soft rumble as hundreds of dead spiders
dropped out the air and rained down on the courtyard
floor.

Dave
walked to the edge of the terrace and looked down. Enoch stood
there with a grin on his face.

‘
Nice day for it,’ said Enoch.

‘
Why
did they do that? Why attack us like that?’

‘
Who
cares, want play, we play.’

A
green glow formed in the courtyard again.

‘
Bad
news Dave, low on ammo.’

‘
I
don’t think it’s going to make much difference,’ said
Dave.

In the
courtyard were four huge spiders, each the size of a pickup truck.
They waded through the dead bodies of their smaller cousins towards
the top terrace.

‘
It
always ends Dave,’ said Enoch, ‘just when and how. Last
grenade.’

Enoch
held up a black cylinder, pulled the pin and the lever flew off to
one side. He raised it to his lips and kissed it. For a moment Dave
thought Enoch was going to let it explode and end it that way. Then
Enoch gently lobbed the grenade toward the courtyard. It exploded a
foot above the lead spider. It looked like someone hit a
custard-filled doughnut with a sledgehammer.

‘
Euugh,’ said Dave.

Enoch
and the Palaver concentrated their fire on a single spider. The
bullets spanged off the heavy chitin armour.

‘
Legs.’ yelled Enoch and the palaver changed aim. Streams of
bullets pushed the spider back and one by one its legs blasted from
its body.

‘
Next,’ shouted Enoch and the hail of fire switched to another
spider. Then the streams of bullets died away. The ammunition was
gone.

‘
Swords,’ yelled Enoch, the palaver dropped their rifles and
picked up swords.

‘
AARROOOOGAAAAH,’ screamed Enoch, and the Palaver
charged.

Swords
high above their heads the Palaver leapt from the top terrace right
into the courtyard. The swords axed down, chopping into the spider
bodies and even severing legs. One Palaver was pinned to the ground
and ripped apart by a spider, even as its legs were cut from it.
The last spider backed against the portcullis and reared up, trying
to fend off the whirling swords.

Then
the courtyard started to glow green once more.

‘
Get
back up here you mad buggers.’ yelled Dave.

The
Palaver ran into the catacombs’ entrance. Enoch leapt back to the
top terrace and trotted up to Dave.

‘
Keep em out of catacombs, re-arm, finish job. You go, have
cup of tea,’ said Enoch.

‘
A
good plan lad, now turn around,’ said Dave.

In the
courtyard another four truck-sized spiders dwarfed by a vast golden
spider easily forty foot tall. It looked directly at the top
terrace, dipped it body and screamed.

The
noise struck the defenders like a physical blow, stunning Dave and
making Enoch stagger. The immense creature lifted a leg like a
crane boom and brought it crashing down on the pavilion, caving in
part of the roof.

Enoch
pushed Dave to the ground and whistled loudly. A dog came running
and dropped a small silver cylinder at Enoch’s feet. One end glowed
green. Enoch grabbed it and dropped down next to Dave.

‘
Bad
times Dave, can’t let it out. The walls no good. If female, then
offspring and bye-bye humans.’

‘
So
what the hell do we do now?’ asked Dave.

‘
This,’ said Enoch and showed Dave the small cylinder, ‘Last
line of defence. Press button, all unregistered in allotments,
foom, gone.’

‘
Well bloody press it then.’

‘
Yar, good idea. Humans not registered. Not been through
machine.’

‘
Well throw all the humans over the wall and press the bloody
button.’

‘
Done Dave, only you and Abbey left. That problem.’

‘
Abbey? What’s my daughter got to do with it? She’s away with
her mother.’

Enoch
looked embarrassed.

‘
No
Dave, in catacombs with dogs, exploring. Can’t find
her.’

‘
What the bloody hell is going on here. Who let her go down
there?’