Champagne & Lemonade

by John A. D. Hickling

  It was an hour later before the rest of the gang turned up. There was James Hall, a 21-year-old, black Jamaican, 5 foot 9, dreadlocks; he was an animal catcher for the RSPCA; and Mollie Spindle, a 24-year-old, white, toned girl, 5 foot 7, short, brown hair; she was studying for her Computer Science degree at Birkbeck, University of London. She was also a black belt in mixed martial arts. She had always been a tomboy and felt more at ease having the lads as her mates.

  “Morning all, the van’s looking well, Greg — I can’t wait for this trip,” said an excited Mollie.

  Greg wiped a side window on the van and said, “Thanks, Moll, yeah me too. We’re just about ready to get off — oh, is that your new sheath knife you were telling me about? Let’s have a look.”

  “Yeah, it’s a good one, got it from Marshalls.”

  “How are ya, James, pal?” asked Jake, smiling as he patted James on his back.

  James rubbed his eyes and yawned. “Well, I could think of better places to be at this time in the morning.”

  Greg laughed as he picked up a box of food to put in the van. “Stop whingeing, Hall, and come and help me — grab that box near the garage door.”

  James smiled then went to pick up the box. “How long do you reckon it will take to get there, man?”

  “About five and half hours I reckon, that’s why I wanted to get off earlier than this.”

  “You must be mad, man, it was hard work getting up and ready for this time,” James replied with a smirk as he took some of Mollie’s gear off her and passed it to Greg to load into the van.

  “Oh, stop moaning, James; you can sleep in the van,” smirked Mollie, jabbing James in the ribs.

  “Yeah, come on, let’s get cracking; have you put all your stuff in, Jake?” Greg asked as he got himself set in the driver’s seat.

  “Yes, mate; right, all aboard that’s coming aboard,” grinned Jake and the gang all clambered into the van and set off on their long journey.

  *

  The Prime Minister jumped up and kicked over the coffee table. He watched the news reporter explain in graphic detail how out of four climbers tackling Everest, three of them had been killed. The shook-up fourth climber, who was in intensive care, had reportedly mumbled something to the paramedics about how an 8 foot tall, white, horrible faced and sharp teethed thing with straggly fur had attacked and killed his friends. Bigfoot was what the reporter had deduced. Then, in the next report, two fishermen had been dragged to the bottom of Loch Ness; no bodies had so far been recovered. The locals were saying that it was the work of the monster.

  The Prime Minister kicked the coffee table further across the room, this time breaking it in two; carefully tiptoeing around the broken glass he then answered the phone to the President of the USA.

  *

  Greg was making good time in his campervan, hitting 70mph most of the way; he was oblivious to where he was as he was singing full-bore to Queen’s Don’t Stop Me Now, which was blaring out of the radio. Mollie was making hot drinks for everyone, two teas (no sugar, very little milk) for Greg and James, a coffee (black, one sugar) for herself and a milky coffee (four sugars) for Jake, while James was explaining to Jake the best way to catch a big cat. This had now become the gang’s top priority since it had been announced on the radio that there was a £1000 reward for its capture.

  “What you gonna do with your money after we catch the thing, Moll? You know, your hundred quid after it’s been split four ways,” said James with a laugh.

  Mollie passed out the drinks. “Ha, ha, very funny — woah, slow down, Greg, or I’ll karate chop you; I nearly had coffee all over me.”

  Greg looked at Mollie in the rear-view mirror, giving her a sheepish grin as he carried on nodding his head to the radio.

  “I’m not sure, James…probably clothes or put it towards the new iPhone; what about you?”

  James rubbed his lip after nearly burning it off from taking a sip of his hot tea. “I’ll just put it towards my nets and animal catching stuff, I’d imagine.”

  Greg took another corner a bit too sharpish, which left Jake, who was in the back, hanging on to his seat with one hand while trying not to slosh his drink everywhere with the other.

  “Sorry, guys! I’d do the same with the money, I think, put it towards some invention; probably the jetpack I’m working on,” said Greg.

  They all went silent as they drank, but it didn’t last long when Mollie piped up, “What about you, Jakey? What would you spend it on?”

  Jake put his empty cup in the sink. “Well, providing we catch the thing, I don’t know…probably swimming lessons,” he said, laughing.

  “Yeah, man, that might help, what with you being a lifeguard and all,” James said and they all joined in the laughter. But the laughter soon subsided as Greg quickly shushed them, when a breaking news report came over the radio.

  “This is an emergency broadcast. People are being told to keep away from the Saddleworth Moors in Greater Manchester as there have been mysterious sightings of what are being described as wolf-like creatures. There are fatalities, the roads are being blocked off and the army have been called in.”

  “What on Earth is happening? What is it with all this stuff going on?” asked Mollie.

  “Tell you what, we’ll go and catch this big cat then go to the moors and catch whatever those things are and then we can make a quick left to Transylvania for a spot of vampire hunting.” The other three laughed at Greg’s comments. The laughing soon stopped again, however, when they saw the sight in front of them. As they were nearing Stoke people were screaming and had all stopped their cars to point towards the sky. Greg pulled over and they all got out of the van.

  “What the hell is that?” shouted Jake pointing upwards.

  Mollie stood shaking her head, watching the creature fly away. “It looked like it was a dragon thing…what was in that coffee?” They all looked at each other, their faces ranging from confusion, shock to pure bewilderment.

  “Come on, let’s get after it,” yelled Greg as he started up the van. They jumped in and sped off.

  *

  “Quiet, Chez,” whispered her brother Brett Hollis as they sneaked through Grizedale Forest in the Lake District, trying to photograph the mysterious creature that was roaming around. Brett and Cheryl Hollis were 24-year-old twins from Manchester, who were on a camping trip in the Lake District. They were both firm believers in the untold, conspiracy theories and myths and were determined to catch something to prove that their beliefs weren’t a waste of time. They wanted to show people that they had been right all along, but most of all they wanted to prove that they weren’t crazy for believing in such stuff.

  RRRRooooaaarrrr.

  “What was that?”

  “It was no puma cat, that’s for sure, Chez; come on.” Cheryl checked her camera to make sure it was set up properly so she wouldn’t miss the photo that would definitely prove they weren’t crazy. Brett was carrying a trap he had made; it was housed in a rucksack and made out of old fishing nets that he had tied together. The idea was to put some bait down near a tree, on top of the nets, which would be attached to the tree by pulley ropes. As soon as the beast walked onto the nets it would be hoisted into the air then they would photograph and catalogue it for their records before calling in the authorities — well that was the theory anyway. They were really deep into the forest now and it was becoming damp, dark and claustrophobic. There were so many trees and they were all around them; they stretched so far upwards that they appeared to touch the sky. Straight ahead of them several trees shook and birds screeched and squawked as they flew away.

  “Sssh, Chez,” whispered Brett as they sneaked up on the very close target. Adrenaline was pumping through their veins at the thought of finally seeing one of the mythical creatures that they had been pursuing for so long. However, there was also some nerves mixed in along with a fear of what their eyes were about to fall upon.

  “Wow, whatever it is stinks,” mumbled Cheryl with her
hand over her nose.

  “Whatever it is, it’s big; look at the tops of the trees.” Brett pointed at what they could just make out to be hands, big hands at that, on top of the trees. They were a dirty, greyish colour, all covered in warts and cuts, the index fingers were bent like bananas and the nails were long and misshapen. The Hollises sneaked through a clearing, hoping for a better view, but they were careful not to attract attention to themselves.

  Cheryl’s scream was deafening at the sight of the creature that met their eyes. Brett grabbed the camera from his incapacitated sister’s hands and managed to take a photo. The creature went mad from the dazzling camera flash and growled as it went for them. “Run, Chez, run,” shouted Brett.

  *

  Greg and the gang were just under an hour away from the Lake District and the roads were getting busier by the second with people trying to flee the areas where there had been reports of sightings; while other people probably wanted to see all the commotion with their own eyes. A report had just come over the radio saying that airports were swamped with people wanting to leave England, while in Dover security had to stop people from trying to force their way onto a ferry.

  “I can’t see it,” said Jake, referring to the flying beast; the others were looking out of the windows.

  “I reckon it has come this way,” said James, pressing his face up against the glass and looking at dead sheep carcasses on the side of the road as well as the debris from smashed road signs which littered the road in front of them — this was doing nothing to ease the traffic congestion.

  Mollie was on her laptop. “Jesus, you ought to see all the various stories that are being reported, there are loads of different sightings. Oh! Here’s the flying beast, it’s been mentioned and was last spotted up in the Lake District. And all this other stuff is incredible; what I can only describe as some troll creature has been seen near Tower Bridge in London, a village in Sweden has been burnt to the ground with witnesses saying it was a dragon. The list of sightings goes on, ranging from unicorns, dinosaurs and even a Cyclops. What is going on?” she said.

  “I’ve been saying for ages things are being covered up.” Greg scowled, the tapping of his fingers on the steering wheel getting louder with his impatience at being stuck in the traffic.

  “So you believe in these…things that are supposed to be alive then, man?” said James as he looked out the window at the masses of beeping vehicles.

  “Yeah, Hall, I do. I tell ya, the governments cover all sorts up; so why should this be any different?” said Greg.

  “Well, something’s going on; I mean, why is all the traffic like this for a start? And look at this…” yelled Mollie, showing the gang a fuzzy picture and a report of some dinosaur-like creature in Germany.

  “Wow, that looks horrible, what is it?” asked Jake as he checked his watch.

  “I’m not sure, it looks like a Velociraptor — according to my files — which is impossible; they have been extinct millions of years,” said a confused looking Mollie.

  “What about Photoshop, man? It’s probably a fake,” James said, trying to add some logical explanation.

  “God knows; keep looking for different reports, Moll, so we can try and make some sense of it all,” said Greg. Mollie nodded.

  “Yes, man.”

  “At last,” said James and Greg as they high-fived each other because the traffic had started to move again.

  *

  Jack Durnham and his team were about to board their private jet to go to the Lake District. This was the first point of call because some of the creatures had been housed here in the past due to its vast acres of land that were hidden away from the public. Recently, however, more and more creatures were being spotted here than anywhere else; there were even new species that had never before been documented. One thought on why this was happening was because of the recent building activities of humans; we were building on these areas of vast countryside and forcing the creatures into our habitats.

  Jack was deep in thought and wondered what exactly they would encounter. All sorts of things were racing through his head; he took a sip of bottled water, clicked his pen and started scribbling down ideas, hoping to organize his scattered thoughts. How were they going to recapture the creatures that were already free? How, in the future, were they to keep their numbers down?

  He scribbled out a section of his notes as he deemed an underground lair in which to house trolls too impossible until he knew how many there were and what they were: did they eat meat? Plants? What? Was it feasible to capture them instead of slaying them? He knew there were acres of the restricted forest areas where, in the past, creatures had been guarded by specially trained military personnel, but they had long since disappeared.

  Jack looked out of the window, took another sip of water and carried on with his notes.

  *

  Greg and the gang had arrived at their campsite and pitched up their van. Jake was sorting food out on the BBQ: he had a selection of burgers, chicken and steak (his chicken burgers were apparently to die for). Meanwhile, James and Greg were sorting out their tracking and catching equipment, which consisted of a black, handheld device that Greg had made which could detect movements along with the range of them. James had invented different sized Hall Spring Nets, which were housed in sport bags and would spring out and snare different animals from a remote control device. These were some of the things they possessed to help them track the cat and flying beast.

  “How many burgers, Moll?”

  “Just one, Jake, thanks,” Mollie replied as she made sure she had plenty of battery for her camera.

  James and Greg were still checking over their kit. “What rifle have you got there, Greg, man?”

  “It’s a Marlin 336xlr, it’s a good ’un, got it quite cheap off eBay,” Greg replied as he held it out for James to get a better view.

  “So what have you been up to at work, Hall?” asked Greg.

  “On Tuesday there was a large fox that had wandered into a housing estate. It was pretty cool, actually, because it gave me an opportunity to try out one of my spring nets. It worked too; mind you, that was the easy part, getting the nasty git out of the trap and into the van was the hardest part; it took me and two of my work colleagues at least 45 minutes.”

  “You’ve made a good bit of kit there, mate. What’s your boss think of them?”

  “He thinks they’re good, man. He wants me, or should I say us, to come up with a specific one for the job — and a price.” Greg smiled as he got some plates and cutlery ready.

  Mollie had put down her iPad after checking out more reports of creature activity, while Jake flipped and pressed down some steak on the BBQ and yelled, “Grub’s up, you two; do you want some steak and chicken?”

  “Yeah, ta,” shouted Greg.

  “Yeah, that’d be great, Jake, then we’d better get a move on.”

  “Here you are, Moll, a bit of steak. How are the exams going?”

  “Cheers, yeah, they’re okay; quite tough but enjoyable. How’s the new lifeguard job at the Ironmonger Row Baths?”

  Jake hurriedly chewed his piece of steak. “It’s good; boss is fine, and my colleagues are great. I had to jump in and assist a teenager the other day; he put his foot in someone else’s arm band and nearly ended up drowning.” They all laughed as they tucked into their food.

  *

  It was 6 p.m. and the sky was full of sunshine as Jack and his troops landed on an unused airstrip. Jack surveyed the view as the jet landed. There were old huts and sheds which he supposed was where the creatures had previously been housed, but they were now abandoned; the facility had become overcrowded and had not been updated as more species had come to fruit and become smart enough to figure out ways to escape.

  He noticed a few old, battered, brick built offices and barracks that looked like they had been around since the Second World War. There were also three aircraft hangers, two of which were badly damaged, and the whole area, which was situa
ted on a bumpy field, was fenced off by a tall, wired, electric fence. The camp was surrounded by trees and Jack noticed an area of them which had been smashed and torn apart, leaving a couple of trees scattered all over the base.

  There were already another ten soldiers there, setting up the base, and, as they exited the jet, one of them came running over to Jack. “Evening, Sergeant; I’m Commander Jack Durnham,” yelled Jack over the noise of the aircraft, giving a salute.

  “Evening, Sir; Sergeant Steven Black at your command.” They shook hands.

  “How’re things going, Sergeant? And I presume you have all been briefed on the mission?”

  “We have communications set up, Sir, and we are sorting the accommodation. Yes, Sir, we have been briefed on the mission and what has been happening by the Prime Minister, Sir.”

  “And what do you think of what you were told?” Jack and Steven smirked as they slowly walked on.

  “At first I was waiting for the joke, Sir, but nothing surprises me and you have my full backing, Sir.” Jack smiled. “Let me show you around and introduce you to your men, Sir.” And off they went.

  *

  At around 7 p.m. Greg, Jake, Mollie and James left their campervan, hired a Jeep and chucked all their rifles, tracking equipment and other stuff inside, and set off. About twenty minutes into the drive, they were closing in on the restricted area of the forest, travelling along a very narrow dirt track, when a large cat ran out in front of them. Greg, who was driving, swerved so as not to hit the creature and slammed his foot on the brakes, missing a tree by centimetres. Greg looked over his shoulder and watched the cat go through a hole in the fence.

  “Is everyone okay?” yelled Greg as the others stumbled out of the Jeep.