Clovenhoof 05 Beelzebelle

by Heide Goody

  Michael could hear the commotion coming from the lower levels, and, from the calls that were coming through to Chip, there was plenty going on. Chip shook his head at the latest call and looked at Michael with that penetrating intensity that worked so well from the pulpit but was now beginning to make Michael believe that the man was really rather unhinged.

  “Michael, there are people all around us failing to understand the real crisis here. People who are worrying more about a plumbing issue than the epidemic of evil that stalks our streets. Just look at them!”

  Michael looked out of the window to see that many people now seemed to be equipped with guns and were liberally spraying everything in sight with lurid pink foam. Down near the entrance to Consecr8, a bunch of men and women battled their way to the door, looking incredibly conspicuous not only because they were dressed like undercover detectives, but also simply because they were dressed.

  “Well, I’ll tell you one thing,” Chip said. “It’s time to shut the doors against that forever. Those people don’t know it, but they’re about to learn how God feels about their monstrous behaviour.”

  He pressed a button, and there was the sound of large doors and shutters rolling into place. There were squeals of outrage from somewhere below and the sound of hammering.

  “That’s it. We’re in lockdown now.”

  Michael looked at a warning flashing on Chip’s computer screen.

  “The plumbing links haven’t disconnected,” said Chip, thoughtful rather than worried.

  “External pressure over-riding the flow valve in the basement toilets,” Michael read.

  “Right, let’s take a look, eh, mate? I’ve learned, over the years, that you have to lead from the front. If there’s a blocked toilet, then Chip Malarkey can sort it out. When it comes right down to it, I’m a man who can do things with his hands.”

  Chip rolled up his sleeves, fetched a toolbox from a cupboard, and led the way from the room.

  Michael followed and was surprised by the number of people who were inside the church, given the short window of opportunity that Chip had allowed for ticket-holders to enter. They had started marking out their personal territory on the first and second floor by partitioning rooms and corridors with their belongings. A sleeping bag to form the outer cordon, a rucksack to trip up unwanted invaders. People were occupying the maximum amount of space that they thought they could get away with in some bizarre kind of arms race.

  Michael was horrified to see that Clovenhoof was inside, accompanied by his monkey, still carrying the baby.

  “Jeremy, I’d have thought that you’d be more at home outside, with the foam party,” he said.

  “Oh, don’t you worry, Micky-boy,” said Clovenhoof. “I’ve got it covered.” He pulled out his phone and showed Michael the display. “Check it out. Nudycam.”

  Michael was dismayed to see that there was indeed a webcam positioned, presumably on the turret of the disco lorry, to capture the best of the partying nudity.

  “Anyway, don’t we have bigger fish to fry?” asked Clovenhoof, with a look of studied innocence. “It looks to me as though the bailing crew isn’t quite keeping up.”

  “Bailing crew?”

  Clovenhoof pointed.

  A human bucket chain ran from a window on the first floor, snaking down the stairs to …

  It looked to Michael’s eyes that the ground level had been replaced by a peat bog. A thick carpet of slick dark brown covered the floor. And, looking over the bannister at the great bowl of the church hall, he saw that the foul tide indeed covered the entire ground floor. It was already at the level of the celebration zone pews.

  “Is that sewage?” asked Michael, stunned.

  Clovenhoof inhaled deeply.

  “Yup. The fragrant contents of the human bowel.”

  Lazy, fat bubbles formed and popped in the great pool of brown slurry.

  “But the basement level …” said Michael.

  “Totally submerged,” said Clovenhoof.

  “But all the DNA samples. My work …”

  Clovenhoof patted him heartily on the shoulder. “Don’t fret, pigeonwings. I’m sure it’s all fine. Just, you know, covered in shit.”

  Freddy was loudly urging the people in the chain to work faster, but it seemed to be having little effect.

  Michael gave Clovenhoof a hard stare. “I am certain that you did this,” he said quietly, through gritted teeth. “I don’t know how, but I’m certain that you did.”

  He turned away and sought out Chip.

  “Well, this is a turn up,” said Chip, with an unfazed bafflement.

  Michael was sure that, if this was someone else’s building, someone else’s problem, Chip would have been doing one of those backward whistles builders do when preparing to deliver a massive quote for repairs and saying something like ‘you’ve had some cowboys in ’ere, mate.’

  Instead, he simply said, “I think I’ll head upstairs to have a think about how we sort this out.”

  “Well, the very first thing you need to do is re-open the doors,” said Michael.

  Chip clasped Michael’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “It’s not that simple, Michael. This was always designed to be a one way ticket for the faithful, and so I built in certain safeguards to make sure that we wouldn’t waver. Those doors cannot be opened for forty days. Also, mate, we can’t be sure that there isn’t a flood situation on the outside as well.”

  “Oh pur-lease!” laughed Clovenhoof. “Have you listened to yourself? Check out Nudycam. There’s no flood.”

  “Michael! What is this man doing in here? He’s …. he’s unclothed.”

  “If we could open the doors, I’d gladly throw him out,” said Michael.

  “I can’t be near such filthy nakedness,” said Chip, and backed away. “Michael, sort this out!”

  Clovenhoof snapped a picture of Chip’s retreating form and typed with a small flourish. “There we go, hashtag batshitcrazy. Michael, you do know that your new friend’s going to kill everyone? I suggest you apply your knowledge of technology to the problem of how to override the doors and get us all out of here.”

  Michael glanced at Chip, but knew that Clovenhoof had a point. He tapped his earpiece.

  “Little A?”

  There was silence. He tapped it again, but there was only an empty hiss.

  “Oh no!” gasped Michael. “The server room is in the basement too. The computers will be under ten feet of water. How can I override the door controls now?”

  “I’ve seen the films,” said Clovenhoof. “This is the bit where you hold your breath, swim down through to the bottom levels, cut through the red wire or whatever, and fix the computer system before your air runs out.”

  “I saw that film too,” said Michael coldly. “I don’t seem to recall Tom Cruise having to swim through corridors filled with human effluent.”

  “Details,” tutted Clovenhoof. “Another case of scientologists rushing in where angels fear to tread.”

  The bubbling cauldron of foul-smelling slop crested the stairs and washed across the first floor carpets. Gorky climbed up Clovenhoof’s leg to get out of its way.

  There was shouting from the stairwell, and they all looked across to see the members of Freddy’s human chain staging a mutiny. Tessa Bloom, local councillor and Justice of the Peace, hurled her bucket across the room and shrilled in frustration. The bucket sank without trace into the rising gloop as she scurried away up the stairs, while Freddy looked on in exasperation. Freddy turned to Chip and Michael, gave a small shrug, and climbed the stairs himself.

  “Freddy imagines this isn’t going to end well,” he said to no one in particular.

  With the reeking tide of human poo-water on their heels, Clovenhoof and the increasingly squashed crowd of people climbed up through the levels of the church. Everyone was attempting to find a way out, and elbows jostled roughly as they climbed. Gorky kept Belle safe in his arms, and snarled if anyone came too close.

  �
�Oh my God, it’s a monkey!” declared a woman. “An actual monkey.”

  “Well, it is an ark, madam,” someone replied.

  “Yes, but I didn’t expect to actually share space with the animals.”

  “Move it!” yelled someone towards the back. “Ugh! It’s seeping into my sandals!”

  “Surely it must start escaping through the walls or windows or something,” said a man with more hope than confidence.

  “But surely this place is waterproof,” someone replied. “Nothing in. Nothing out.”

  They emerged onto a crowded roof, the upper deck of the ark. A hardwood rail ran around the sides, and people were hanging off every edge, hollering to the crowds below.

  Clovenhoof peered over. With a swell of pride, he surveyed the riotous pandemonium he had helped orchestrate. Milk, foam, laughs, cries, screams, all sewn together with acres of naked human flesh, from the palest freckly white to the richest black. It was like a bare-bottomed United Nations, and it was beautiful.

  He realised his phone was ringing.

  “Good morning, king of the world here. How can I help you?”

  “Tell me you’ve got my daughter,” said Toyah.

  Clovenhoof picked out Toyah among the SCUM ladies in the crowd and gave her a wave.

  “Certainly have. She’s right here with me and Gorky.”

  Gorky dangled Belle over the side to show her.

  “Okay, Bubbles. No need for us to go completely Wacko Jacko,” said Clovenhoof. “She’s perfectly safe up here with us. Well, when I say safe …”

  “Something seems to be the matter in the church,” said Toyah.

  “Yes, I think it’s fair to say that something’s the matter. The church is a giant boat.”

  “What?”

  “Well, an ark really.”

  “Say what?”

  “It’s been sealed off from the outside world, and now it’s filling up with sewage, which has nothing at all to do with me messing about with the sewage pipes in the drains under the church.”

  Down below, Sandra leaned in toward Toyah to speak into her phone.

  “An ark? Like Noah’s ark?” said Sandra.

  “Noah didn’t have wifi and a coffee bar in his,” said Clovenhoof. “Actually, I think the coffee bar’s gone now, so, to be fair, neither do we. Anyway, there are people here that would like to escape.”

  “Leave it with me,” said Sandra.

  Nerys was beginning to think that things were getting a bit out of hand. She’d given in to some base urges, and it had been enormously satisfying to thump Tina and kick over that stupid display stand that she’d set up, but she had seen someone taking pictures, and there was no saying who might see those pictures. Invariably, if Jeremy Clovenhoof was around, embarrassing pictures would end up in social media. She wondered how much more internet notoriety would be tolerated by her new employer.

  A crowd of topless SCUM women moved off with a sudden sense of urgency, like an Amazon raiding party.

  “What’s going on?” called Nerys.

  “The church!” said one.

  “It’s full of trapped people and it’s flooding from the inside!” said another.

  “We have to try and help them get out!” said a third, and ran off.

  Nerys tried to process this bizarre new piece of information. On a day when so much else had happened that defied reason or logic, it didn’t seem so unusual.

  “Did Jeremy do this?” she shouted after them, but they were gone.

  She looked up at the Consecr8 building. People crowded around the rooftop railing. Clovenhoof grinned down at her, waving. Some distance along from him, and looking far less happy, was Michael.

  She cupped her hands to her mouth and shouted. “What’s going on?”

  “A lot, I’d say,” said Andy, next to her.

  Andy and the Reverend Zack had returned. Andy had a phone to his ear.

  “Oh, you two are a sight for sore eyes!” said Nerys. “It seems as though things have got a bit out of hand.”

  Zack coughed gently, and Nerys remembered that she was naked from the waist up.

  “Yes,” she said. “Not this. This isn’t what it looks like. Well, I suppose it is, but there’s a really good explanation. Possibly. Anyway, more importantly, there are people in trouble up there. I’m not sure what’s going on.”

  “The church is full of shit,” said Andy.

  “I think that’s a bit strong,” said Nerys, her eyes flicking nervously to the vicar.

  “No,” said Andy. “Literally. I’ve just spoken to Michael. Some sort of plumbing catastrophe.”

  “What can we do?” said Nerys.

  Andy studied the scene, his hands on his hips.

  “Those walls look solid. If we had a wrecking ball, we could force a hole and …”

  He was cut off as the bouncy bosom castle slid past them, pushed and pulled by many semi-clad women.

  “Surely it’s too far for them to jump,” said Zack, “even onto something soft.”

  “What we need,” said Andy, swivelling his gaze around until he found what he wanted, “is ... that. That over there. Come on, Zack. Let’s go.”

  Zack seemed unsure. “Really?”

  “Trust me,” said Andy. “I used to work in the building trade.”

  From below deck came the most intriguing of sounds: groans, creaks, and squirts. In his mind’s eye, Clovenhoof could picture the viscous tide of sewage breaking through doors, slipping into every crevice, compressing every last air pocket, stress-testing every wall, door, and window. The stairway to the roof was brimming with stinky brown sauce. It gurgled and shifted like the world’s crappiest tar pit. The whole sensory experience was like Clovenhoof’s intestinal tract after a post-pub kebab, but on a much grander scale. If it wasn’t for the actual life-threatening emergency going on around him, Clovenhoof would have pulled up a deckchair and taken the time to savour it.

  As it was, he had to make do with watching Sandra gesturing emphatically and issuing instructions to the other naked women. Clovenhoof took photos of the naked women clustered around the inflatable breasts.

  “It’s like a hive,” he said. “They’re like the worker boobs all swarming about the queen boob. Nature is truly a wondrous thing.”

  His phone rang.

  “Jeremy, you’d better get Bea out of there safely,” said Toyah, a helpless desperation in her voice. “I don’t know what sort of crap is going on in there …”

  “We’ve got all kinds of crap, let me tell you. Light ones, dark ones, firm ones, sloppy ones, those dark nuggety ones that means someone’s been drinking Guinness. I could open a crap emporium and everyo…”

  “Jeremy!” she snapped, her voice cracking. “Please!”

  Clovenhoof stopped.

  There was a new voice on the phone. It was Spartacus. “Do not be a complete cock, Mr Clovenhoof. You need to take care of my sister, hear me?”

  He looked down at Belle, who reached out and grabbed his horn, laughing. He was suddenly keenly aware of the mortality of the tiny person in his arms, and he was worried. Worrying about humans wasn’t really his thing, not really his forte. He was much better at the other thing – what was it? – that’s right, the complete opposite of worrying about people. But this little one was different. He’d put time and effort into her upbringing and education. He’d shared in her nappy-based triumphs. He’d invested in her. With a shudder of repugnance, he realised he actually cared.

  “Yes, yes,” he said testily. “I’ll take care of her.”

  Gorky screeched at him.

  “The ‘I’ includes you too,” he told the monkey. “It’s implied. You’re part of the Clovenhoof team. Don’t hassle me. Nobody likes a monkey on their back, okay?” Into the phone, he said, “We’re going to be fine. I think the bouncy castle’s in position now.”

  “No!” said Spartacus. “Just no. Don’t even think about it with my sister! It must be a hundred feet!”

  “Only a hundred feet,
” said Clovenhoof reasonably. “Trust me, I’ve fallen much further in the past.”

  Michael could see that the semi-clad women had dragged the huge bouncy castle over to the edge of the church. The giant breasts wobbled as it settled into place. The leader of the shameless ladies looked up and gestured to the crowd at the handrail. It was a gesture that said, ‘come on, jump! It’ll be fun!’, but there was no movement whatsoever from the crowd.

  “What is that ridiculous woman up to?” said Chip.

  “Well, it’s looking like our best option at the moment,” said Michael. “If you’re waiting for a convenient deus ex machina to save us, you’ll be waiting a long time.”

  “Yuck, I hate it when that happens,” said Clovenhoof. “The bloody Big Guy being winched out of the Heavens to put everything right.”

  “The Lord moves in mysterious ways.”

  “Right. And I suppose he’s currently moving a pair of gas-filled norks into place for us to jump onto?”

  “Look, there are fire engines over there,” said Mrs Bloom, pointing off towards the main road.

  “But how will they get through this crowd?” said Michael. “The bouncy … cushion is our only choice.”

  “Hmmm, well, let someone else try it first,” said Mrs Bloom.

  Chip harrumped. “I don’t think anyone up here is so foolhardy as to ju… Oh.”

  Freddy DeVere, laboratory receptionist, church helper, and unsuccessful poop-cleaner, climbed over the handrail, gave a little wave to everyone else on the roof, and leapt away from the building. His plummet was marked by a thin scream that was quickly muffled by one of the mammoth breasts. He gave a little whoop of relief, and then rebounded from the steeply angled cleavage and bounced off sideways onto the pavement, landing on his head.

  “First aider!” yelled one of the naked women.

  “What’s Freddy thinking of, joining that orgy down there?” said Chip. “Look, a naked first-aider tending to him, with her breasts on show. If Freddy gets complications from his lustful thoughts, then it will serve them all right.”