Dave Trellis and the Allotments of Doom

by S. B. Davies

  Dave sighed, grabbed Fergus by the shoulder, and ran into the tunnel.

  Light from the entrance was long gone. Dave and Fergus groped their way forward, listening for noises, especially from behind.

  ‘I don’t think he’s following.’ whispered Fergus, ‘I can’t decide if that’s good or bad.’

  ‘Never mind that, can you smell it?’ asked Dave.

  ‘Smells like a urinal; I just thought it was us.’

  ‘I think I know where we are. It’s not good news, not good at all. There is a tiny chance we might get out of this, but only if you do exactly as I say. Do you understand?’

  ‘Is this one of those ‘yes Dave’ moments?’

  ‘More than you could ever know, and don’t be flippant.’

  ‘Yes Dave.’

  ‘Right, have you ever heard the noise a puppy makes when it’s hurt?’

  ‘A sort of high pitched yipping noise?’

  ‘That’s the one. When it happens, lie on your back and make that noise as loud as you can.’

  ‘When what happens?’

  ‘I don’t know, but it will be sudden, unexpected, and lethal.’

  ‘Dave, are we going to die?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I mean right now.’

  ‘Oh, probably.’

  The tunnel became narrower and the floor uneven. They tripped and stumbled in complete darkness, all sense of direction gone, touching the walls to keep them going the right way.

  ‘It’s dinner time up top and I think we should rest for a bit. Tomorrow we may get to the end, possibly in more ways than one.’

  ‘What if we wait here, until Azimuth goes away?’

  ‘Sound plan lad with two minor flaws. We’re out of water and out of time. Don’t forget why we’re down here in first place. We’ve two days left.

  Cheer up. I think it’s time to break out the emergency rations.’ There was a ripping sound. ‘I always keep some Kendal mint cake hidden in lining.’

  Enoch stood on the walls of St Catherine’s allotments and watched the dogs muster. They’d trickled in over the last two days and now they started organising themselves.

  There was a deal of running about, scuffling, quiet barks, and head-banging, more like a reunion than a call to arms. Slowly packs formed and leaders trotted back and forth conferring. Order formed out of chaos and two hundred dogs became thirty combat and one control pack. On command the entire horde formed up and trotted into the allotments in parade order.

  The sight made Enoch glad. His own muster had not gone so well, only fifty Palaver were bunked down in the barracks. He expected four times that number and without them the battle plan was uncertain. He hoped that Dave was having better luck, as intervention rather than fighting looked like the best option.

  Chapter Eleven

  Life’s limitations are self-imposed.

  Dave Trellis

  One Life, One Woman, One Shed

  Dave and Fergus could see light ahead. Thirsty and hungry, yet still wary, they crept out of the tunnel and into the warm light of the cavern. In front of the tunnel exit was a jumble of large rocks. With Dave leading, they started to climb.

  Dave peeked over the top of the boulders and saw a wall right across the cavern. In the middle was a gateway and before the wall a wide, clear space of smooth cavern floor.

  ‘There’s nobody about,’ whispered Dave, ‘perhaps we got lucky and it’s abandoned. We’ll try and sneak through. In any case don’t forget what I told you.’

  Fergus stuck his thumb up and they clambered down. Halfway across Dave stopped. Perhaps it was a change in air pressure or a tiny noise that alerted him. He turned round. Out of the rocks emerged two dogs as big as carthorses. They bounded towards him.

  Dave yelled ‘Now’ and flung himself down on the hard rock floor, rolled over and started yelping in the most pitiful way. Fergus turned and saw a dog’s head the size of an armchair. It growled and showed teeth, lots of teeth. It looked directly at him. Fergus froze. The dog leapt. At the last moment he remembered, fell backwards, and yelped as loud as he could. It saved his life.

  The dog’s paws thumped down either side of Fergus. He stared at one furry tree trunk leg and a paw lifted up and settled on his chest. The weight was unbearable forcing the air out of his lungs. He stopped yelping; he couldn’t breathe.

  Dave was still yelping, fear lent strength to his voice and the pitiful cries echoed around the cavern. The dog standing over Dave looked confused, leaned down and sniffed. It licked Dave with the tip of its tongue, then turned its head to look at the other dog and barked.

  The other dog barked back, short and loud. Fergus’s ears rang. The pressure on his chest increased, pain swelled and he tried to throw up. The dog opened its jaws, turned its head and bent forward. Fergus could feel its teeth scrape down each side of his head and dark, wetness covered his face. He tried to scream.

  In desperation, Fergus scrabbled about the dog’s face. He pushed a hand into a nostril and he gouged with all his strength. The dog’s head jerked back, its teeth cut into Fergus’s face and threw him forward. The dog shook its head and barked furiously. Fergus crumpled unmoving onto the floor.

  The other dog sniggered and Dave took the opportunity to duck under its legs. He ran, knees pumping, yelping loudly and headed for the rocks. Dave didn’t need to hear the scrabbling of claws on rock to know that both dogs were trying to head him off. He didn’t look back, he just leant forward as far as he could and ran for his life.

  Dave dived under the first boulder he saw with a gap under it. He pulled his legs in and carried on yelping. A huge paw reached under the boulder, the claws dug into Dave’s stomach and dragged him out. Dave looked up into the face of the dog. It growled and Dave barked at it. The dog took a step back in astonishment and then its hackles rose. It growled; a deep rumbling like a juggernaut in the night.

  There was barking in the distance. A single dog ran at full gallop towards them. As it got closer, Dave could hear what it was barking. He sighed and slumped down.

  Boadicea leant into the neck of her horse and tried to get more than a canter out of the tired animal. She could see the turrets beyond the trees. Not long now, she thought, not long before the row starts.

  They were waiting for her in the courtyard, sat on their day thrones, banners flying, a full honour guard, and even a few trumpets. Just what she needed; trumpets.

  Her father stood up, threw his arms wide.

  ‘Ti nessun, bienvar haim.’

  Boadicea curtsied.

  ‘Thanks Dad, it’s lovely to be home, but I’m in a hurry.’

  ‘You’re not on that dishonourable, gutter planet now. Speak properly,’ said Boadicea’s mother in impeccable English.

  ‘Sorry Mother. This is diplomatic mission on behalf of Earth, so I speak their language. I’d have been here yesterday, but they confiscated my motorbike.’

  ‘As is right, this world is ours, those are our ways.’

  ‘Indeed, your world -’

  ‘Your world?’ said her father, ‘Have you grown so distant?’

  Boadicea smiled and gave her father a kiss; protocol be damned.

  ‘Father, Mother. Earth is in grave danger will you raise the armies and send help?’

  ‘You know the history, we will not help them again,’ said her father

  ‘I thought as much and understand. But I choose to ignore history. Where is my Champion?’

  ‘You don’t have one dear,’ said her mother. ‘You said they were an anachronism and refused all candidates.’

  ‘Really? I thought I choose Sir Geraint. Oh well. Father, who would be a suitable champion?’

  ‘Well there’s Sir Bran, he’s getting on a bit, but a deadly man in his time.’

  ‘What? Uncle Bran?’

  ‘Yes dear,’ said her mother. ‘He’s the King’s champion, but he would jump at the chance to protect his favourite niece.’

  ‘Thank you Daddy for giving me your champion.’ Boa
dicea curtsied again.

  ‘Uncle Bran’ yelled Boadicea.

  A tall, slightly portly man stepped out of the ranks of armoured man and walked towards Boadicea.

  ‘Yes Milady?’

  ‘Assemble my honour guard immediately.’

  ‘You don’t have an honour guard dear,’ said her mother. ‘An anachronism, remember?’

  ‘Uncle Bran, please call a muster of all able bodied men willing to join my honour guard.’

  ‘Yes Milady,’ said Bran.

  ‘And don’t be fussy, we ride in an hour.’

  ‘Where are we going?’ asked Bran.

  ‘To Earth and certain death,’ shouted Boadicea and then quietly to Bran, ‘Sorry about the melodramatics, but it usually gets things going.’

  ‘Yes indeed, Boadicea, may also suggest a few ‘only the bravest heart and strongest arm need apply’, we need to appeal to the ego.’

  ‘I need only the stout of heart and strong in sinew. It is an endeavour of great peril, that only the bravest can endure,’ shouted Boadicea. ‘Something like that uncle?’ she said to Bran.

  ‘That’ll do nicely love.’

  ‘If you think you are going into battle dressed like that,’ said Boadicea’s mother, ‘you have another think coming young lady.’

  Three hours later, Boadicea dressed in her mother’s full set of plate armour, led a phalanx of 50 men out of the courtyard. There were banners, sun glinting off burnished armour and trumpets. There are some occasions when trumpets are utterly appropriate.

  Fergus woke up and felt pain, hideous, sickening pain that was worse when he breathed in. He was lying on a mattress in a small cave.

  ‘Dave?’ said Fergus, his voice croaked.

  There was a quiet yap and a small furry face peered down at him. Fergus was amazed. It was a puppy.

  ‘Hello pup,’ said Fergus.

  The puppy snorted and turned away. It barked once and ran out of the cave.

  After a few minutes Dave arrived.

  ‘You’re awake at last. I was getting worried. Mind you not as worried as persuading this lot not to finish the job.’

  ‘How am I doing?’

  ‘Four broken fingers, three nasty cuts, two cracked ribs and concussion fit to stun a bear’

  ‘And a partridge in a pear tree?’

  ‘That’s the spirit.’

  ‘How long?’

  ‘Best part of a day.’

  ‘We’ve got to get going. We’ve only got a day left.’

  ‘I know lad, I was thinking of leaving you here, despite the risks. If I wasn’t here though, I reckon you would’ve never woken up.’

  ‘What’s the problem? They are just dogs, like the ones at the allotments.’

  ‘No, it’s not that simple. Firstly, they have Dogs of War here. Those big lads that tried to kill us are a completely different breed and considered advanced weaponry. They shouldn’t be here at all; it breaks the embargo.

  Secondly, this hidden kennels has puppies and breeding is strictly against the protocols of residence. We’ve stumbled on the dog’s shameful secret. It explains why they accompanied every expedition to the catacombs, why they hid Coleridge’s notebook. The thing I can’t work out is why they bothered.’

  ‘Does it matter? With what’s going on at the minute, don’t we have more important things to worry about?’

  ‘Yes. Good news too. These dogs know the location of the Bell chamber and can guide us there. Even better news; I persuaded them to carry us. We are going to ride dog-back. It’s both a great honour and a thrilling experience. We leave in a few hours.’

  ‘Why not right now, we have less than a day left.’

  ‘Because they’re setting up relay teams that run ahead and rest while we travel. It’s quicker in the long run. We should be there in about twelve hours. Here, you need to drink this.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Dog medicine. It’ll accelerate your healing and fix any minor bleeds in your brain. Without it, you’ll have to rest for a few days. It’ll make you vomit, which is why I didn’t give it to you when you were unconscious.’

  ‘Here’s a bucket. After you feel better, you can eat. I’ll leave you to it.’

  ‘Cheers,’ said Fergus and drank the small bottle of medicine.

  Fergus felt much better. There was no pain and the cuts on his face had healed, leaving pink scar tissue. His stomach on the other hand was growling with hunger.

  He found Dave just outside the small cave, sat in front of a small log fire, with a circle of attentive puppies around him. Dave yapped, barked, and yowled to his audience.

  The puppies turned and stared at Fergus. One of them barked at Dave, who nodded and barked back. The puppies bounced over to Fergus, tails wagging, barking, and jumping up.

  ‘It’s all alright, you can stroke them, they’re pups,’ said Dave.

  Fergus knelt down and ruffled the head of the nearest puppy. Overwhelmed by the pack of pups, he stroked them and rubbed their tummies, and they licked him, nipped him, and stood on his hands. Fergus laughed and rolled on the ground, as the pups swarmed over him.

  ‘Come on boys and girls, that’s enough. Your uncle Fergus has to eat now. Go on skedaddle,’ said Dave and helped Fergus to his feet.

  The pups kept mobbing Fergus and Dave used his sternest voice.

  ‘No more. Stop it right now, or there’ll be no more Uncle Fergus stories.’

  The pups ran off in a pack, barking and yapping. Fergus sat and helped himself to a cup of tea from the billycan by the fire.

  ‘Do we have anything to eat? I’m starving.’

  ‘A leg of the finest Welsh lamb, it should be ready in a few minutes.’

  ‘Where did that come from? There’re no sheep down here.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be so sure about the dearth of woolly herbivores hereabouts, but this lamb came from Butcher in Huddersfield. They’re well equipped down here and the supplies must -’

  There was an electronic ping.

  ‘Ah it’s ready,’ said Dave and stood up.

  ‘You haven’t put a decent joint of lamb in a microwave?’ asked Fergus.

  ‘It’s no microwave,’ said Dave as he returned with a leg of lamb roasted to perfection on a large baking dish. ‘Tuck in lad, I’ll go and get the other one.’

  The smell was lovely, with a hint of Rosemary. Fergus ate with determination, ignoring table manners and sensible caution when dealing with a roast straight from the oven.

  When the roast was down to the bone, Fergus flung it over his shoulder. One of the puppies trotted over to the bone picked it up and carried it back to Fergus.

  ‘Come on lad, even the pups can see that cliché.’ Dave took the bone, from the pup and stood up. ‘Would any one you youngsters like a lamb bone to chew?’

  There was some squabbling and the two smallest pups ambled over to Dave. Dave handed the remains of the two legs of lamb, one to each puppy. Each barked something short and took a bone.

  ‘You need to be careful. Throw a bone to a grown dog and you’ll end up in A&E or at proctologist’s any road. Repeat after me, they are not domestic dogs.’

  ‘Yes Dave, sorry, I was pre-occupied. I suppose things have turned out ok. At least we don’t have to worry about Azimuth any more, those Dogs of War would make it lie.’

  ‘Actually he turned up here about two hours after us.’

  ‘Well that’s sorted then. Was there anything left?’

  ‘It was the best punch up I’ve seen since they tried to throw Enoch out of the Slubber’s for singing show tunes. Azimuth is stronger than he looks, took the dogs minutes to put him down. He head-butted one of them big lads so hard, it fell over. And what a right hook. They had to send in a pair of armoured dogs to sort it out.’

  ‘So he’s gone for good then?’

  ‘Nope. He’s in a tent, recovering.’

  ‘What? Surely when he comes round it’s going to kick off again?’

  ‘Again no. He was suffering from an
enzyme imbalance; the dogs fixed him up. He should be right as drizzle when he comes round and I will be offering him an allotment, so he can grow some suitable food to prevent any re-occurrence. This is exactly the sort of thing the allotments were designed for. I am rather chuffed seeing it all work out so nicely.’

  ‘So it’s all in hand.’

  ‘Aye, we could be said to be home and briskly towelling off, but then our entire premise may be awry. We are relying on a legend, a mythical event that we hope to recreate.’

  ‘Remind me again what you said about attitude.’

  Dave grinned. ‘Good point well made. We can only succeed in our endeavour, the rest is in the laps of those whose engineering make them appear god like to us mere apes. Come on, get packing, we saddle up in an hour.

  The whole kennel turned out to watch them go. There were about fifty adult dogs with puppies milling around everywhere, barking and yapping. In the middle of it all stood two giant dogs in full armour. Unlike Palaver armour, it was made of segmented plates and made the dogs look like rhinoceroses, or perhaps some arcane dog-lobster cross breed.

  The dog saddles had a five-point harness and a roll bar. They looked like a seat stolen from an expensive sports car.

  ‘Enoch would give his left testicle to do this. Make sure you get good mileage out of it when we get back,’ said Dave.

  One armoured dog lifted a bent leg and Dave stepped up and boosted himself into the saddle. Fergus managed to scramble up into his saddle and strapped himself in.

  Dave barked something and both dogs reared up. Fergus was glad of the five-point harness. The dogs barked loudly and the crowd responded. Then with a leap forward they were off.

  With pounding paws, the dogs charged down the tunnels at full gallop. They twisted and turned around obstacles, and even leapt. The wind rushed by Fergus’s face as he was thrown from side to side. With each bound the saddle rocked backwards and forward. It was almost like cantering on a horse. Then the cadence changed and it was back to a full gallop.

  It was magnificent and thrilling, even Dave let out an exultant whoop when they leapt straight off a waterfall to land splashing into the pool below.

  The first relay stop came and went. Fergus found it hard to believe that they had been travelling for three hours. The pounding ride went on, through a terrifying stretch of total darkness and on, through caverns with deep jungle and others with dank swamp. Nothing seemed to get in the way of the racing dogs.