by Sam Cullan
Chapter Eighteen
Alice was glaring at Will. They'd finished their soggy pasties, eventually. Their meal had been accompanied by Dick's rabbit narrative, one he had honed over many years, and Alice’s glaring. Alice decided to get herself a stronger drink.
She nodded at Wayne, who was sitting on a tall stool talking to Spike's waistline. “Err, hello, Spike?”
“Hello luv, be right with you.” Spike bent his body in three, and loomed in Alice's face.
“Right, what'll it be?”
“Screwdriver, please. As big as you can make it.”
“Coming up.” Spike stood and rummaged through a drawer. Alice really hoped he wasn't about to present her with a pointy tool. Spike pulled out a book. “Ah ha, here we are. S – c –”
“It's just vodka and orange juice.” Alice needed alcohol, fast.
“Sorry, not much call for cocktails here, is there Wayne?”
“No, we don't see many Americans here.”
Spike poured a bottle of orange juice into a pint glass. Alice stared. Jesus, she thought, I'll be flat out after this - good!
“How much gin, love?”
“Vodka.”
“Oh, right. Good job you're here.”
“Just pour, I'll tell you when to stop.” Alice smiled, figuring this might turn out OK. She stopped him when the glass was two-thirds full. Spike stirred his creation with a fork, and threw in a pink umbrella which promptly slid down and jammed itself inside the glass.
“Straw?”
“Why not.” Alice smiled politely.
“So, bet you've acted with some famous people?”
Alice was taken aback. She wondered if Will had been blagging about her. “Err, excuse me?”
“You're an actor, right? I've seen you in something … what was it, Wayne?”
“Dusk ‘til Dawn.”
“That's it, Dawn to Dusk.”
“Err, no, I wasn't in that.”
“You sure?”
“I'm pretty sure, I have a good memory.”
“What was it then?”
Alice tried to think straight, but the vodka was kicking-in. “Sorry, can't think.”
“Oh well, it'll come back to you. Sooo, who've you acted with?”
Alice wasn't sure she should tell the truth, but then again, this story was hardly going to get outside the pub without being altered a dozen times and somehow integrated with rabbit tales. She reeled off a list of famous names, and a few curve-balls.
“Wow, DeNiro, Cruise, Chaplin, Streep, Gable … bet you got some tales to tell, eh? Spike eagerly awaited her tales.
“Not really, it's just a job. I don't really know them.”
“Shame that, we could use the exposure. So what you doing here? Making a film?”
Alice had to think on her feet, which were wobbling under the weight of vodka. “Err, research. For a film.”
“Oooo that sounds interesting. What's it about?”
“Err, local legends.”
“Right, good one, well you're in luck. Dick knows all about the local legends. Wrote some of them. Here, have you heard the one about the mad monk?”
“Umm, rings a bell?”
Alice waited in vain for a guggle.
“Well there's this chapel, haunted by a mad monk. Serial killer, you know.”
“Sounds good, I'll check it out.”
“You should check it out. Don't go there at night though, eh Wayne?”
“Oh God, yes, no, don't go there at night.”
“Why's that?”
“It'll be dark, luv. Won't see a thing.”
“Well, thanks for the pointers. Better get back to my uncle - he likes to keep his eye on me, and his hands, if ya know what I mean.” Alice was determined to even things up with Will. She wrinked and waved at Will, who was now being glared at from different heights.
“Miss me, uncle Will?” She put her hand on his groin and stroked it. Will was now being glared at by everyone in the pub who wasn't him, including Mona Lisa who was hanging above Dick, and a crow that was sitting on the window sill pecking a rabbit's foot.
“Err, of course. Dick was just telling me about a mad monk who bred rabbits.”
Dick was eyeing Will and Alice, and decided these were a very odd couple of bunnies.
“So, Dick, where are your rabbits?” Alice was determined to beat Will at this game.
“Sleeping. Nocturnal, you see. At night they just roam freely.”
“Roam?” Alice had visions of wildebeest sweeping majestically across a plain.
“Yes, all round here. They can travel miles in search of food.”
“Food?” Will chipped in, sure of his rabbit knowledge. “Don't they eat grass and carrots and stuff? Don't you feed them?”
“Ah, well, these are special rabbits, they have a very particular diet.”
Will was unsure he wanted to know more, so didn't ask. Alice was gently swaying.
“Err, OK, but err, aren't you afraid they might be attacked? By mink, foxes, lions?”
“Oh no, they can handle themselves.”
Alice burst into a fit of giggles, and emptied her glass. She swayed and giggled some more.
Will was wondering why Dick hadn't pulled him up on the lion, and what sort of rabbit could defend itself against such a beast. “Are they dangerous?”
“Well, let's just say, you probably shouldn't look them in the eye.”
Alice howled and simultaneously wet her pants.
Dick took umbrage. “Yes, well, nice talking to you. Gotta go see a man about a rabbit.”
Will decided he should leave Alice, who was having a fit under the table, to cool down. He approached the glaring plumber and buckle.
“What do I owe you?”
“Five pounds, please.”
“Five? We had food, and four drinks.”
“Food is on the house, they were only left-overs from Christmas.”
Christmas was a month away, and suddenly Will felt queasy.
“Still, five pounds for three beers and a Screwdriver ...”
“Take it or leave it.”
“Huh?” Said Wayne.
“Huh?” Said Dick.
“Huh?” Said Will.
Will decided he'd take it, though he would rather have left it. He wasn't entirely sure which was the correct response, and besides, was rather keen to leave.
“Come on, you old tart.”
“Coming pops, err uncle.” Alice was swaying in five dimensions, maybe more.
“Don't forget to recommend us!” Spike was talking to Alice.
“Absolutely, this is the best pub I've ever had.” She blew some kisses, and fell out the door.
Outside, the air and light hit her, flinging her to her knees. Will gathered her up and bundled her into the back of the car, thinking she'd either vomit or pee, and he didn't want either in the front.
“I'm giddy.”
“You're pissed.”
“Weeeeeeeeeeee.” Alice was watching her hand, which was flying in circles around her head, which was spinning.
Will headed for Gidwell, determined to retrieve his towel. It was a fifteen-minute drive, and he guessed he'd be making the walk alone. Alice was alternately groaning and weee-ing, and he drove carefully to avoid upsetting her volatile stomach contents. He really didn't want to spend this evening clearing vomit off the upholstery and trying to deodorize the car - it wasn't the weather for leaving windows open.
As he drove, the distressing noises from the back seat died down, and his mind drifted back to the rabbit breeder. Something about that man bothered him - well, many things about Dick bothered him, but one in particular. He brought up a picture in his mind, and studied it. Where had he seen that face before. Of course! Dick bore an uncanny resemblance to the ghostly monk he'd seen crawling out of a boggy hole. Maybe this was all a big con, some sort of lights-and-mirrors trick to bring in tourists, or rabbit fanatics. Nah. Will wavered - there must be a thousand faces like his, and b
eards are so hard to tell apart.
Will was in a conundrum, not for the first time. With Alice temporarily out of the mix he was thinking more clearly, and clearly there were questions to answer. Pulling up at the lay-by, he resolved to sort this out once and for all. He turned off the engine and peered over his shoulder; Alice was sleeping like a baby, curled up and with drool running down her chin. Good.
Rummaging through the Rover's boot, Will tooled-up. He had a shovel which had been there since last winter - a particularly snowy one. He had a pair of secateurs, which he kept because he liked to take cuttings from interesting plants. He had a trowel, some tin snips, a hammer, and a bucket to carry it all in, which would also be useful for clearing water. He was equipped to dig and cut his way to whatever secrets lay buried in Gidwell, and he had no intention of coming back here ever again - it was now or never. He checked on Alice, who was looking more comfortable, and carefully laid a travel-rug over her. She would be fine, if a little dehydrated and hung-over. He always had a bottle of water in the car and he used some to wipe her mouth, before resting it where she could easily see it when she woke.
Grabbing a torch, not knowing if he'd be done by nightfall, he strode purposefully down the hill and arrived at the chapel with a steely grin. Right, you bastard monk, you've fucked with the wrong creep this time. He was relieved to find his towel where he'd left it, and gave it a shake. Turning to the barren, boggy depression where they'd seen the ghostly figure, he took the shovel and thrust it hard into the soft ground. No blood, no guts, no metallic objects, no bones, no rabbits. He lifted a sod and flung it over his shoulder, then another and another. He was used to digging, though his back would complain soon. Adrenaline and sheer bloody-mindedness would mask the pain for now, and he was soon facing a hole three feet wide and a foot deep. It was filling with water, but he'd deal with that later.
For thirty minutes Will lifted muddy shovelful after muddy shovelful. The ground was free from plants and untrodden, not compacted. It was like digging sand on a beach. He reached two feet, then three, and had to make the top wider to stop it falling in. He dug like a maniac, stripped to his naked chest, and dug some more. If there was anything in this well, he was going to find it. Soon it was four feet wide, and four feet deep in the middle of the cone-shaped pit. He was sweating and aching, but had no intention of stopping - he'd dig it out, or die trying. The sun had already sunk below the hill behind him, but he barely noticed as his eyes became accustomed to the slowly fading light. Even so, he occasionally had to stop and shine a torch down the hole.
Will was kept busy now with the bucket, trying to empty his pit. It was not so much a well as a spring just below the surface, and the ground was waterlogged anyway after a wet autumn. He desperately heaved bucket after bucket of muddy slop out of the hole, and after three hours he was beginning to wish he'd stayed in the pub to learn more about rabbits. As the thought flickered in his mind, he stopped to look up. Five feet away, on the other side of the railings, a small white rabbit was sat. It seemed to be interested in Will, or the hole, and wiggled its nose at him. White rabbit? Weird. Will had seen many brown rabbits, and the occasional black one. White rabbits were usually escaped pets, and he wondered if a little girl was crying somewhere. He cleared five more bucketfulls and stopped again. The rabbit had been joined by a second, also white. Now this is bloody weird. He thought of Dick, and his roaming Hotots. The pub had to be five miles away, and this didn't strike him as ideal rabbit grazing country. Oh well. He really didn't have space in his brain to worry about roaming rabbits, and kept on with his bucket bailing, finding it more suited to lifting the sloppy mud than the shovel.
He stopped again, aware of more white shapes against the darkening background. He felt a shiver, not unlike the one he'd felt last night when faced with a donkey monster. Slowly raising his head, he jerked backwards at the sight before him. There were thirty or more identical white rabbits, with black eye patches that made them look quite creepy. They were all staring and wiggling their noses, apparently very curious about his activities. He stepped back and reached for the shovel, preparing to fend off the beastly bunnies.
What am I doing? Rabbits don't attack people. Do they? On a weirdness scale, this was right up there, possibly above, the red-eyed monk monster. Will was scared, not knowing where the boundaries of reality lay any more. He thrust the shovel into a pile of slop and heard a metallic ping. The rabbits pricked up their ears and their noses stopped wiggling. Will shivered, feeling cold and intimidated. With one eye on the rabbits and one on the shovel, he bent down and pushed his hand into the pile of wet mud. His fingers fished around, stopping as his they touched on something that wasn't mud. A regular form, it felt circular and flat. Alice, you bloody genius!
Slowly, unsure as to what he'd found or how the rabbits would react, he pulled the amulet from its watery grave. He stared at it, unable to make out any distinct markings but quite sure it was something man-made and very special. He heard a rustling noise and looked up to see a hundred or more Dwarf Hotots advancing, one hop at a time. This could get nasty. Suddenly a loud explosion sounded, echoing around the valley. Will fell back into the muddy pit and dropped the amulet. He lay still for a few seconds, trying to sense where the pain or blood was, but was quite unable to feel anything other than terror and partial deafness. Gradually he became aware of a tall figure standing over him. He froze, awaiting certain death. The figure stooped and picked up his treasure, wiping the mud off, examining it, and then pocketing it.
“Well now, you've saved me a lot of digging. Thanks for that. You fit just right in that grave you dug.”
Will vaguely remembered the voice, and scrabbled to find a face to fit. Marvin. “What do you want?” Will knew it was a dumb question and his chances of making it out of the muddy hole weren't looking good, but he figured he had to try and buy some time. Maybe the rabbits would attack Marvin – nothing would surprise him now. Sadly for Will, the rabbits had scarpered when Marvin fired his twelve-bore at them.
“What do I want?” Marvin roared with laughter - an evil, satanic laughter. Will was sure he saw fire in his eyes. “I want what you and that stupid kid want, and now I have it.”
Will's chances of ending the day alive were looking slim, but he wasn't going to just sit there and die. He wondered if he could leap out of the hole and knock Marvin off-balance before he got a shot off. He was sure he only had one left, and in a wrestle or fist-fight he might have the edge on the man who was at least twenty years his senior and considerably lighter. He decided he'd try bargaining, and if that didn't work, it was an all-or-nothing leap.
“So, now you have it, you can just go - right?”
Marvin roared again. “Yes, of course, I can just go.”
“Cool.” Will sounded anything but cool.
“This amulet is going to change my life, and only you and the kid can stop me. So I'll just walk away and leave you, shall I?”
“Sounds good to me. We won't bother you, Sir.” Will thought politeness would do no harm.
“That's a kind offer, can I have it in writing?”
“Sure!” Will marvelled at his negotiating powers.
“Only one problem.”
“Oh?”
“I need your blood.”
“Umm, OK, I can spare some.” It seemed a bit much to ask, especially on top of the amulet.
“About ten pints.”
“We can water it down.” Will was running out of ideas, but it seemed worth a try.
“Sorry, has to be pure, thick blood from the fool who uncovers the amulet - that would be you, yes?”
Will considered blaming the rabbits, and even Alice, but felt sure Marvin would see through him.
“Can you use, like, a pint a week?”
Marvin roared again, and Will was starting to dislike his foe's evil laugh, but was pleased his wit was appreciated.
“Tell you what, I'll give you two choices.”
Will was in front again – he had choi
ces now!
“I shoot you and take your blood from your dead body, or tie you upside down to that fence and slit your throat. I’ll stop at ten pints.”
Will wasn't happy having to make the choice, and didn’t know if he could spare ten pints. Maybe if he opted to be tied up, he could somehow use that time to overpower Marvin. “OK, sure, I'll take the fence and throat-slitting option.”
Marvin stepped forward and pointed two very long, shiny barrels at Will's foot.
“Whoooa, I chose throat-slitting.”
“Just making sure you don't try to run away.”
“I won't, I promise.”
“Better safe than sorry - try to look at it from my point of view.”
Will was beginning to think there was no reasoning with the man and shut his eyes, praying for a miracle - a rabbit, a zebra, a lion … anything with teeth. He gritted his teeth and waited for the noise, and the pain. Maybe he could still overpower Marvin, even with one foot missing. Suddenly there came a loud bang. He winced and prepared to feel pain. None came. He wondered if the gun had misfired, as it had sounded a little odd. He didn't want to open his eyes in case he saw a bloody stump where his foot had been.
“Open your eyes!”
Marvin must have shot himself in the balls to sound like that. Yes! A lucky break. Will opened his eyes, but could see only a beam of torchlight.
“Are you hurt?”
Will thought Marvin had suddenly gotten a conscience, and was not such a bad chap after all.
“Will! Say something. Dork.”
“Dork? No need for insults.”
Alice threw herself on top of Will and squeezed him. “Thank God, you're alright.”
“Alice, is that you?”
To be fair, Will was in shock and his face covered in mud. His eyes had been blinded by the torch, and he’d wondered if Marvin had already killed Alice - after she probably told him where to find the chapel, having first been tortured and raped.
Alice kissed his lips, then spat out a mouthful of mud. “Who do you think this is?”
“Err, guessing not Marvin. Buffy?”
Alice punched his arm, then kissed him again. Will lay back and thought of England - cold, wet, dark, smelly, rabbit-infested England. It was glorious.
