The Adventures of HAL: The Second Hilarious Glothic Tale (The Glothic Tales Book 2)

by Haines, Derek

  ‘Followa?’

  ‘Yes Cappi.’

  Cappi drove slowly with the car’s headlights out. In the distance he and Hal could see the limo pulling to a halt near an aircraft hanger. The lights inside the hanger shining brightly into the night from the large front entrance. Inside they could clearly see the nose of a private jet.

  ‘Stop here Cappi,’ Hal whispered and Cappi pulled the taxi to a slow quiet halt. ‘Wait here, I’m going to take a look.’

  ‘Ok Mr Hala. I’lla waita here,’ he agreeingly whispered.

  Hal opened the car door quietly, and started making his way the hundred metres or so to the right side of the hangar. With everyone he could see well under the bright lights of the hangar, there was little chance they could see him approaching in the dark. Even his normally noisy footsteps were quiet on the black tar of the tarmac surrounding the building as he approached. Positioning himself finally, crouching by the right side wall of the hanger just a little back from the entrance, he could see the rear of the limo and hear voices, but nothing he could hear clearly. He needed to get closer. Deciding that simply strolling in via the front entrance wasn’t his best option, he headed for the rear of the hangar to see if there was another entry.

  A small door on the left hand side of the rear of the building caught Hal’s eye. He took the handle in his hand and turned the knob slowly, carefully and hopefully. It was unlocked. As he pulled the door open, he heard the sound of the jet’s engines being primed. This was extremely fortunate timing, as when he entered the door, which lead into what was probably an aircraft engineer’s workshop, he tripped over something heavy and solid in the dark and tumbled to the floor in a heap. Holding back an urge to yell something akin to an expletive in response to his now aching shin, he bit his lip and waited for the pain to subside as he ran his hand down his shin on a quick search mission for the warm liquid feel of blood. Luckily, there was none to be found. Only a rather large and growing lump. He staggered to his feet, and with much more care now, made his way towards the door to the main hangar and opened it slightly. The rear of the jet was facing him, and as far as he could see, everyone was hanging around chatting near the front of the jet.

  A storage area just in front of him, which was clearly where small cargo consignments sat, waiting for loading, was enough cover even for his large frame. He slid through the door as quickly as he could and ducked down immediately behind a row of wooden crates. Still too far away to hear any of the conversation over the now idling engines of the jet, he tried to move further to his left. With the entrance stairs to the jet on the opposite side, he doubted anyone would see him. Slowly he inched his way until he was about level with the tail of the plane. A tray of cargo wrapped in some orange plastic webbing now between him and going any further. He climbed the side of the webbing then heard voices approaching. In panic, he dived into the opening at the top of the webbing and landed with a dull thud on a small pile of suitcases. In an instant he concluded that he had probably made a very bad decision, and when he felt himself rising he immediately increased his conclusion from probably to highly likely. Through the webbing he could see his new destination. A hatch on the rear left hand side of the aircraft. Hal was nowhere near an aviation expert, but even he could conclude that he was being loaded into the luggage compartment.

  Meanwhile, Cappi watched his taxi metre. This would be a great fare tonight.

  *****

  As the hatch closed and all the light was sucked out, Hal sat on his pile of suitcases with his arms wrapped around his shins and his knees under his chin. He took the quiet moment to rub his still painful shin and wonder what the hell he’d got himself into. Deciding that he was now not very inquisitive at all, and that he should’ve probably just headed back to his hotel with Cappi after a nice drive in the Italian countryside, didn’t seem to alter things very much. As he felt the plane move forward, he chastised himself in Darrell and Debbie Queensland speak. ‘Ya’ big bloody idiot! What the ‘ell have ya’ done?’

  Hal felt the plane bobbing as it was obviously taxiing to the runway, and after a few minutes he felt it turning and the engines whining to full power. The sudden thrust of power, and the unfortunate lack of a seatbelt sent Hal head first from his perch on the suitcases and landed on his backside on the floor of the compartment, giving the back of his head a little thump. Nothing serious, but enough to stop him worrying about his shin. The next thought even surpassed his concern about a possible bruised coccyx bone and a lump on the back of his head. Were luggage compartments in small private jets pressurised? He had a feeling he would find out very soon.

  Hal’s luck was in. And out. Yes, he could confirm that the compartment was pressurised, as he hadn’t blown up or passed out by the time the plane levelled out. However and unfortunately, he could also confirm that baggage compartments were not temperature controlled, as he was now beginning to seriously shiver. Luckily under the circumstances, there could be worse places to be threatened with freezing to death, as Hal quickly decided the suitcases might offer some salvation. While most were locked, Hal’s brute strength was more than a match for them, and within minutes he was fossicking through their contents looking for anything that might come in useful in saving his increasingly pale skin. Although two woollen jackets he found were too small for him, he managed to put one on each arm and drag them around himself and tie them together with a string of neckties. Then socks on his freezing fingers and layers of underwear on his head. Not pretty, not at all fashionable, but highly effective given the circumstances. As his body temperature started to rise a little, he dug around for more items that could be put to use. He found a tube of Deep Heat muscle cream and treated his cheeks to a good layer, feeling its warming sensation in seconds. The smell was horrid in the small confines, but better to stink than freeze to death. He applied more Deep Heat to any parts of his body he could reach, then layered on more clothes.

  After what was probably nearly an hour and a half, and still shivering a little, he felt he had things more or less under control when all of a sudden he felt the jet turning, reducing speed and probably getting ready to land. Now he just needed to be sharp and hatch an escape plan when the plane landed. He decided on simplicity. Get back on top of the suitcases, wait for it to be unloaded and when it was on the ground, run for dear life. As it was still night, it seemed like quite a logical yet cunning plan. He readied himself for the landing with much more care than he had taken for the earlier take-off.

  He felt the comforting thud of the jet’s landing gear making contact with the runway, and as soon as the plane slowed to taxi, he started stripping himself back to a more regular attire, and stuffing what he could back into the suitcases. He hoped a quick spray with eau de cologne would help offset the still lingering Deep Heat aroma.

  As securely hidden as a six foot six man could manage, Hal curled himself up into as small a ball as possible and surrounded himself with suitcases and suit packs. ‘So far, so good,’ he thought as finally he heard the hatch being opened. The sound of voices, whooping sirens, loud humming and the jet’s engines winding down filled his little space as did a lot of very bright light that was quickly sucked back in. This aspect made him think that the night landing he had envisaged had somehow gone wrong. He felt his crate moving upwards and outwards. He was being unloaded. Keeping even lower than before, he waited for the reassuring thud of returning to terra firma.

  Now deposited, somewhere, Hal decided it was time to complete his escape plan. Lifting his head after waiting for a few minutes he looked around to decide on which direction would be best.

  ‘Where the bloody hell am I?’ he thought to himself as a new wave of panic started to develop in his stomach – and nostrils.

  Oooops!

  Hal was immediately redefining his definition of big. After managing to slip out of his suitcase lined hiding place and sneak his large frame to a safer position behind a row of as yet to Hal, undefined rectangularish, silvery, floating yet very he
avy looking things, he scanned his field of view and tried to make a rational decision as to where he was exactly. When that failed to work, he satisfied himself with the knowledge that he was in something very, very big. There was a gaping hole in the distance where his jet had clearly entered and landed, but improbably it seemed to be a long, long way above terra firma. Similar in some respects to some weird Star Wars type of Death Star sort of entry bay, except that couldn’t be right, as he wasn’t in a movie. He sidled around to get a better perspective of what he knew couldn’t be at all real, and reassessed his assumptions as the noise of a weird looking round silvery thing blasted its way out of the distant hole, and buzzed off into the starry night sky.

  He caught a glance of Minor-Morris and Sir Bradley being greeted by someone with a snazzy uniform, but a noticeably light limish green complexion.

  Once his superiors had walked off with the greenish gentleman, the jet that had brought them all here was tugged around into what looked like a take off position. Within seconds its engines revved and it proceeded to wend its way towards the distant hole, and off on its merry way. Hal then thought about Cappi. Still waiting at the aerodrome.

  Then came an announcement.

  ‘Prepare for immediate ascent to preliminary orbit.’

  Hal had no idea what it meant except for the word orbit. That didn’t sound promising at all. He watched as he saw everyone scurrying from what looked like a very big undercover airport and through solid, hatch like doors lining the perimeter. There was a similar door just behind Hal, so he thought it might be wise to use it. As he closed the door behind himself, he looked through the small porthole and gasped as he stared at the hole in the distance. There seemed to be a round greenish-blue thing starting to make an appearance in the middle of it now.

  ‘Oh dear, ooops,’ he thought. ‘I really should have gone directly back to my hotel. This doesn’t look good.’

  Looking around, he found himself in a deserted service corridor with odd hieroglyphics on the walls that acted in a very strange fashion. At first glance they were incomprehensible to Hal, but the longer he looked, they then magically turned into English. The first one he concentrated on turned from irregular squiggles into ‘Staff Toilets This Way’ within a matter of seconds. The next changed as quickly. ‘In Case Of Fire, Break Glass.’ As there was every likelihood that someone would come strolling down this corridor shortly, Hal made his next sensible decision. Hide.

  A sign on a nearby door that again started as strange squiggles, turned into ‘Soiled Linen Store 112.’ That looked extremely appealing to Hal in his current state so he entered, closed the door and hid in a large trolley of dirty engineer’s overalls, feeling approximately safe.

  Of course approximate safety has its limits, and Hal was soon to find out about its limited security. No sooner had the feeling of relative safety, and indeed comfort arrived and reduced his heartbeat to a little less than double its normal resting rate, he found a new reason to panic and his heart went back to jumping out of his chest. The door to Soiled Linen Store 112 opened and after the sound of a few footsteps, his approximately safe trolley of dirty engineer’s overalls began moving smoothly and effortlessly out the door and into the corridor. Heading somewhere.

  Hal was extremely busy trying to hold back the onset of a very badly timed sneezing attack, and was a little occupied with pinching his nostrils shut with one hand and covering his mouth with the other to notice that his trolley was making its way to a decidedly problematic hydraulic device beneath a silver door with a small squiggly sign above it. If Hal had had the chance to look at the sign for a few seconds, he would have been helpfully informed that he was heading for immediate entry into a ‘Laundry Chute’.

  Not having this advantage, it came as quite a surprise to him when he was tipped upside down and sent head first down a dark, slippery, steep and very long square tube of aluminium. After travelling some distance at a frightening speed, Hal had the good sense to at least try to slow his decline by frantically using his large feet and hands as make-do but somewhat ineffective brakes. At a left hand and slightly downward turn, his hands, feet and large frame managed to slow to a shuddering halt. A shimmering glow some distance below gave him an indication that he had nearly arrived. Somewhere.

  Unfortunately, Hal couldn’t keep his grip due the lack of friction afforded by aluminium, the angle and inclination of the chute, and the fact that he was wearing leather soled brogues as a result of his meeting in Rome, instead of his usual rubber soled joggers. He landed head first in a pit of soiled linen, slid forward a little further, and ended up face down on a polished tiled floor − with a pair of very surprised feet just in front of his eyes.

  ‘Wibbdy wik u payz?’ which somehow was immediately re-said in English for Hal’s benefit and said, ‘What the bloody hell?’

  ‘Eh, hello,’ Hal said, then heard and echo of his own voice. ‘Eh, viddu.’ He followed up with, ‘Who said that?’ that echoed as ‘Wokky ed cah?’

  ‘You did,’ came the response in the form of the now customary second echo. ‘It will become simultaneous once you brain gets the idea.’

  ‘What idea?’

  ‘Radioactive translation.’

  ‘Where am I?’

  ‘Me first. Who are you?’

  ‘Hal.’

  ‘Zippnak, nice to meet you Hal.’

  ‘Yes, likewise Zippnak,’ Hal said as he got to his feet.

  ‘Wow, you’re a giant.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘It’s ok.’

  ‘So, can I ask now?’

  ‘Ask what?’

  ‘Where am I?’

  ‘The laundry.’

  ‘Sorry Zippnak, I probably need a bit more help. You see I was in a taxi, and then somehow ended up on a jet that then somehow landed in, well, on, or well I don’t really know. Then there was some announcement about orbit, and then here.’

  ‘Are you from Erde?’

  ‘Um, do you mean Earth. The planet?’

  ‘Oh yes, that’s what you call it there. Yes.’

  ‘Er, yes.’

  ‘First time away then.’

  ‘Away from where?’

  ‘Earth.’

  Hal decided it was time to sit down. Due to the lack of any chairs and his now dizzy feeling, he decided sitting cross-legged on the floor would suffice.

  ‘You don’t look well Hal,’ Zippnak observantly commented.

  Hal sat quietly for a while trying to come to his senses. Not that it helped really, as his senses seemed to be decidedly elsewhere. Zippnak let Hal have a quiet moment and went back to loading his ‘Hygiene Regeneration Regulator’ or as Hal would have called it if he was taking any interest, a washing machine. Once satisfied it was full and ready to go, Zippnak waved his hand over something round and green that looked technical, and the HRR started to make a lot of watery sloshing noises.

  ‘Would you like a some?’ Zippnak asked Hal as he made himself a cup of something.

  ‘What is it?’ Hal asked, starting to regain a modicum of his sanity. His senses were still giving him a lot of grief though.

  ‘Murgrum.’

  ‘Murgrum?’ Hal asked, but accepted the cup from Zippnak, and sniffed before taking a sip. ‘It tastes like tea.’

  ‘So does that mean good?’

  ‘Yes. It’s good.’

  ‘Good.’

  *****

  After a nice cup of tea, it was well and truly time for Hal to find out how much trouble he was in. Zippnak’s concise answer that he was in a laundry aboard a Glothic Cosmic Cruiser heading en route directly to Gloth didn’t help a lot. Nor did the details about travelling at over sixteen thousand parsecs and arriving on Gloth is less than 20 hours. He lost Hal completely when he mentioned the Twelve Sun Systems of Gloth and the fact that he didn’t normally do the Erde run in Sun System One, as he usually did Sun System Seven.

  Hal finally entered the conversation. ‘So simply put, I’m aboard a huge space ship in outer space.
’

  ‘Well, I don’t know what outer is, but the rest, yes.’

  ‘I don’t believe…..’

  ‘Quick! Hide in there. Fast!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Move! Now!’ Zippnak ordered in a loud whisper and pointed Hal to a storage cupboard. Hal had just got in and his broad shoulders were just starting to fight brooms and mops as Zippnak slammed the door shut. Almost immediately Hal heard the dull thud of boots and something about a security alert. A bit more chatter before he heard clearly, ‘Ok Zippy, just keep your eyes open,’ followed by the sound of heavy boots again and a door closing.

  ‘You can come out Hal.’

  ‘What was all that about?’

  ‘You I think Hal.’

  Nice View

  ‘I really don’t believe all this.’

  ‘Put these on Hal,’ Zippnak said as he passed Hal a pair of XXXXLL overalls with a shiny embroidered emblem on its pocket and a few squiggles that turned into ‘Sanitary Engineer’ for Hal.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘So I can take you for a little walk without attracting too much attention.’

  ‘There’re a bit tight,’ Hal commented as he just managed to fasten them closed.

  ‘Sorry Hal. That’s the largest size we make. Here, you need a cap too.’

  Although not the most convincing of disguises, Zippnak was happy enough, as they weren’t going all that far. Just a few doors down the corridor.

  ‘C’mon then Hal. I want to show you something.’

  Hal followed, and after less than a minute from the laundry door, Zippnak opened a door on his right with the sign above it turning into English for Hal. ‘Viewing Deck 117’.

  Hal’s eyes couldn’t believe what was in front of him. Space. And not only space, but what looked surprisingly like a planet in the middle of a backdrop of millions of stars with a nebula looking thing in the distance.