by S.B. Davies
Then the courtyard started to glow green once more.
‘Get back up here you mad buggers.’ yelled Dave.
The Palaver ran into the catacombs’ entrance. Enoch leapt back to the top terrace and trotted up to Dave.
‘Keep em out of catacombs, re-arm, finish job. You go, have cup of tea,’ said Enoch.
‘A good plan lad, now turn around,’ said Dave.
In the courtyard another four truck-sized spiders dwarfed by a vast golden spider easily forty foot tall. It looked directly at the top terrace, dipped it body and screamed.
The noise struck the defenders like a physical blow, stunning Dave and making Enoch stagger. The immense creature lifted a leg like a crane boom and brought it crashing down on the pavilion, caving in part of the roof.
Enoch pushed Dave to the ground and whistled loudly. A dog came running and dropped a small silver cylinder at Enoch’s feet. One end glowed green. Enoch grabbed it and dropped down next to Dave.
‘Bad times Dave, can’t let it out. The walls no good. If female, then offspring and bye-bye humans.’
‘So what the hell do we do now?’ asked Dave.
‘This,’ said Enoch and showed Dave the small cylinder, ‘Last line of defence. Press button, all unregistered in allotments, foom, gone.’
‘Well bloody press it then.’
‘Yar, good idea. Humans not registered. Not been through machine.’
‘Well throw all the humans over the wall and press the bloody button.’
‘Done Dave, only you and Abbey left. That problem.’
‘Abbey? What’s my daughter got to do with it? She’s away with her mother.’
Enoch looked embarrassed.
‘No Dave, in catacombs with dogs, exploring. Can’t find her.’
‘What the bloody hell is going on here. Who let her go down there?’
‘No time Dave, getting away. Here, you in charge.’
Enoch passed the small silver cylinder to Dave. The button on the end glowed green. The huge golden spider was starting to step over the walls.
‘Got to be now Dave.’
‘I can’t. She’s my only daughter.’
‘It gets away, she die like all humans. Just when and how Dave, just when and how.’
‘No fucking way Enoch.’
‘No choice, no time. Do it,’ shouted Enoch.
Dave looked up, the huge spider had two front legs over the wall; it was almost free.
‘Forgive me Abbey,’ said Dave, closed his eyes, and pressed the button.
Everything froze and the sound disappeared for a moment, then the recording continued.
Dave stood up and looked around; every single spider was gone. Hanging against the outside of the wall were two enormous spider legs, cut off where they crossed the boundary of the allotment.
‘Why am I still here? Enoch, what’s happened? Is Abbey alright? If I’m here, she must be Ok?’
Enoch stood up and looked at Dave, then hung his head.
‘No Dave, she gone.’
‘How can that be? If I am here, then humans must be registered.’
‘Don’t know Dave. Ask dogs’
The world lurched and Fergus’s point of view shifted. He sat in a chair with a beer in hand, the party in full swing around him and Enoch staring.
‘Get it? Nice, clear?’ asked Enoch.
‘Yes, incredible.’
‘Seven years ago, same party, no half-mast.’
‘How come Dave survived?’
‘Registered when planetary plenipotentiary. No one remember. Perhaps doggies knew.’
‘So why didn’t they tell him?’
‘Doggies are hard, not cruel, but hard. See why Dave need company?’
‘Sure, but I don’t think I’m the right person.’
‘Who else, Rugby Boy?’
Enoch reached over and tapped Fergus on the thigh.
‘We give strong legs, make strong shoulders yourself. Need them soon. I tell Dave bad news.’
Enoch stood up.
‘What bad news?’
‘Hear soon Rugby Boy, go get drunk.’
Chapter Five
Understand a rule before you break it.
Dave Trellis
One Life, One Woman, One Shed
Fergus felt nervous, he knew no one and felt out of place. He drank too much beer on an empty stomach and the late addition of food didn’t help much.
He lurched through the crowd, taking advantage of any solid support to adjust his direction. He saw Dave and Enoch by the pavilion, crouched in a huddle with a couple of dogs and headed that way. Spilling beer and staggering he managed to stop before toppling over Dave.
Dave wiped beer from the back of his neck and looked up at Fergus, his face grim.
‘Wow, a computer game,’ said Fergus, ‘brilliant display’.
‘Enoch, sober him up,’ said Dave and hooked a thumb over his shoulder.
Enoch grinned, swivelled round and jabbed a finger into Fergus’s leg, just above the knee. Fergus felt an excruciating pain shoot up his leg and into his balls. His arms shot out, throwing the beer glass away, and his legs convulsed, launching him eight feet in the air turning forward in a clumsy half somersault. Fergus would’ve crashed face first into the huddle, but Enoch leapt up and grabbed him by the throat and crotch. Holding the struggling Fergus above his head, Enoch walked to the side of the pavilion.
Enoch threw Fergus so that he landed feet first. Fergus hit the ground, bounced as if on a trampoline, and launched himself at Enoch, who ducked underneath grabbed Fergus and threw him back on to his feet again.
Fergus jumped and aimed a kick at Enoch, who swayed aside and held his ground. Fergus threw a barrage of fast, hard punches at Enoch’s grinning face. Everyone missed.
Suddenly Enoch bent forward, his face so close their noses touched.
‘Enough!’ shouted Enoch, he stood back and held his hands up.
Fergus stopped dead; his mind clear as an artic night.
Enoch threw an open-handed slap directly at Fergus’s face. Fergus felt himself sway backwards and his hand come up. The slap whistled past Fergus’s face and he grabbed Enoch’s wrist and pulled him forward.
Enoch stepped into the pull and slipped inside Fergus’s grasp.
‘Shall we dance?’ said Enoch and flipped Fergus over his hip.
Fergus sprawled on the ground. He paused then looked up at Enoch, who nodded and gave a little wave.
‘My tango is rubbish,’ said Fergus and struggled to his feet. ‘What the hell was that?’
‘Little monkey brain frightened, ran away, old lizard brain took over,’ said Enoch, ‘sober now?’
‘Yes, very sober, everything looks sharp and focused. Seriously Enoch, what was that? I was there, but I didn’t do any of it.’
‘Part palaver leg muscles, but mostly human brain. All monkeys got it; never use it. Good yar?’
‘Hell yes, I feel eight foot tall.’
‘My world, Rugby Boy,’ said Enoch and grinned, ‘Come, see the bad news.’
‘Hang on a minute,’ said Fergus. He took three steps and threw up in the flower border.
Fergus stared at the large hemisphere showing a clear, crisp image of all the allotments. Little ant-like dogs and Palaver rushed around the tiny, slow moving humans. In the centre was a horde of spiders, the largest looking like a crab in a rock pool. Around the edge various graphs and figures changed constantly.
‘So you reckon with enough Palaver in full combat gear we can hold them off?’ asked Dave.
‘Yar, we can do it. The doggies handle little ones, we cut big ones down to size,’ said Enoch.
‘What’s this?’ asked Fergus, ‘Is it Enoch’s recording or some sort of video game? We can make a fortune out of the technology.’
‘It is a one tenth battle simulation of an imminent attack by a bunch of anti-social insects that look a bit like spiders,’ said Dave, �
��Hang on a minute, Enoch’s recording?’ He stared at Enoch, ‘Did you show him?’
‘For best Dave,’ said Enoch.
‘Bugger best, I can do without the sympathy.’ Dave sighed, ‘Any road, so now you know, what do you think?’
‘Nuke ‘em from orbit, it’s the only way to be sure,’ said Fergus.
Dave snorted, ‘Show him.’
The simulation reset and a green glow appeared in the miniature courtyard. Fergus watched the first wave of spiders arrive. There was no opposition. The spiders spread out, running over the bridge into the parklands around the allotments.
‘Ok hit them,’ said Dave and the screen became a blinding white dome. When it cleared there was nothing left of the allotments.
‘Pan out,’ said Dave and the viewpoint zoomed upwards. It showed a tiny destroyed Huddersfield, all the houses and building flattened.
‘Figures?’ asked Dave.
‘100 thousand dead, 250 thousand over two days,’ said Enoch.
In the middle of the display a tiny little green dot glowed.
‘Second wave arriving unopposed,’ said Dave pointing to the centre of the display, ‘So what do you think of your plan now?’
Fergus had a moment to feel embarrassed, before the whole screen went white again. When it cleared, all it showed was a huge boulder field floating in space.’
‘What?’ said Dave, ‘Looks like we blew up the whole planet?’
One of the dogs barked and yowled.
‘Ah, not so resilient after all. Nukes are out lad, unless you want to start looking for a new world.’
‘What about the Army and the RAF? Napalm should be effective,’ said Fergus.
‘Well it’s an option,’ said Dave, ‘I do have certain arrangement that may suffice in obtaining surreptitious military assistance, though an air strike means we stop fighting and get clear. We ran a couple of scenarios earlier and the armed forces just got in the way. The artillery ended up killing more dogs and Palaver than spiders.’
‘More importantly,’ continued Dave, ‘if the army get involved, it means exposing the allotments, which means the end of visits and everyone has to find a new home.’
‘But we can’t risk one of those spiders getting away,’ said Fergus.
‘I know that,’ said Dave, annoyance creeping into his voice, ‘It is a bit of a bloody dilemma, hence us trying to find a different solution.’
‘Hang on a minute,’ said Fergus, ‘surely you can just use the little cylinder. One press and foom, all gone.’
‘According to the dogs it doesn’t work anymore,’ said Dave.
‘How do they know?’ asked Fergus.
Dave looked at Enoch.
‘Tested it,’ said Enoch.
‘How did they manage that?’ asked Dave, ‘They would need something to test it on.’
Enoch turn slightly away, made sure that only Dave could see his hand, and pointed at Fergus.
Dave’s eyebrows shot up. He turned to the dog nearest him.
‘You miserable bunch of canine arseholes,’ shouted Dave and stood up.
‘Where the hell do you get off pulling a stunt like that? This is not your planet. You’re bloody guests here.’
The dog’s hackles rose and it barked loudly at Enoch.
‘Never mind him,’ said Dave, ‘It’s you lot that used a human being as a lab rat.’
‘What?’ asked Fergus; everyone ignored him.
The dog barked and yowled.
‘I don’t care if he was an unknown, worthless, waste of skin. It happens, he was human and a guest on my allotments; thus under my care and protection. You pull a stunt like that again and the lot of you are out on your ear. Get me?’ asked Dave in a loud, measured voice.
The dog growled something.
‘I’ll find a way. There are at least five thousand fit and healthy men in Huddersfield alone. How do you like them odds Toto?’
The dog muttered and growled something, then barked loudly.
‘Hmm ok, apology accepted,’ said Dave, ‘And you owe the lad a favour. A dog favour mind, none of your sly little wrangles.’
The dog barked again.
‘Right now that’s sorted, let’s move on. We have seven days to prepare.’ Dave paused, ‘Hang on. How sure are we of their arrival time?’
‘Absolutely sure Dave,’ said Enoch, ‘Always same and only return once.’
‘Creatures of habit no doubt, right then a week to go. We beat the buggers off this time and we’re done. Enoch, I want you to spread the word off world, get as many as are willing to come.’
‘Rules of engagement?’ asked Enoch.
Dave looked at one of the dogs. It gave a short bark and Enoch grinned.
‘You dogs can call back all those wandering mutts with dyed black fur.’
A dog yowled.
‘You think I didn’t notice?’ said Dave, ‘You must think I’m daft. No hold hard a minute, what am I talking about. We couldn’t keep them away with a sharp stick once they know there’s a scrap on.’
Dave sighed. ‘I suppose I better send word to the other lot, though they’ll never come.’
‘Other lot?’ asked Enoch.
A dog barked and Enoch looked embarrassed. ‘Oh, them. Sorry Dave.’
Everyone was quite for a while then Dave spoke.
‘Plan A. Dogs; try and get the button working again and prepare the allotments. Enoch and his troupe; spread the word. Me and the lad here will try and find some other options. Plan B, we abandon the allotments and the Army get some unexpected artillery practise. All agreed?’
Enoch banged his fist into his forehead and the dogs barked. Dave looked at Fergus, who nodded. The huddle dispersed and Fergus, a sly grin on his face, went to find someone he met earlier, and it wasn’t Boadicea.
The Murgatroyd Atherton had hardly moved when Fergus found it. He saw an indentation in the grass and he realised why the murgatroyds kept the grass trimmed.
‘Atherton?’ said Fergus. Large blue words shimmered in the air.
REQUEST FOR COMMUNICATION – CHIMERA NOT DESIGNIGNATED
RESPONSE – WHAT IS YOUR ORIGINATION?
‘Hold on a minute, we need to make a deal. I need to know how to save the allotments.’
RESPONSE – MORE INFORMATION.
‘How can we fight off the spiders and save the allotments? If we call up the army, the allotments end up as part concentration camp, part science experiment.’
RESPONSE – ASSESMENT INDICATES FAILURE TO REPULSE INVASION. HUMANS AUTHORITIES NOT RELEVANT. INVADERS NO THREAT TO THE CONCLAVE.
WHAT IS YOUR ORIGINATION?
‘You assessment is flawed. If the Army get involved and the spiders are not repulsed, Huddersfield will be a battlefield for years to come. If things get really bad and they decide to drop a nuke, our assessment is that the machine will blow up, taking the planet with it.’
RESPONSE – HUMANS DO NOT HAVE NUCLEAR FISSION TECHNOLOGY.
WHAT IS YOUR ORIGINATION?
‘Ha, I thought you were well informed. Humans have had nuclear fission technology for sixty year and basic fusion technology for thirty. We are on the verge of creating fusion reactors.’
There was a long pause.
RESPONSE – INFORMATION CONFIRMED. RE-ASSESSMENT INDICATES SITUATION DISTURBS HARMONY OF CONCLAVE.
FETCH A STONE.
Fergus puzzled by the request, scrabbled in the earth until he found a small lump of limestone. He held it up.
‘Here will this do?’
Suddenly the stone became very hot. Fergus dropped it on the ground and sucked his singed fingers. He wished he hadn’t; they were covered in soil.
INFORMATION – THIS KNOWLEDGE WILL PROTECT THE CONCLAVE. USE IT.
WHAT IS YOUR ORIGINATION?
Fergus was confused for a moment and looked at the hot stone lying on the ground. It looked normal, so he turned it over with his foot. The other side was perfectly
flat, glazed and covered in minute writing. It was too small to read. Fergus took off his leather belt, wrapped it around the stone and set off back to the pavilion.
After three paces before he felt an excruciating pain in his back. He stopped and turned around to see more blue letters written in the air.
WHAT IS YOUR ORIGINATION?
Fergus sighed. A deal of sorts had been struck and despite his impatience he sat down and started talking about his parents. It upset him and he was surprised by the bitterness in his voice.
It took much longer than expected; the Murgatroyd demanding details on all sorts of trivia. Birthday celebrations, schooling, relatives, and the like. By the time it finished, the afternoon had turned to dusk.
Fergus hurried back to the Pavilion hoping that Dave had a magnifying glass. As he strode across the lawn he noticed someone sitting on the edge of the allotment, their feet hanging over the drop to the lower terrace. It looked like Boadicea, except the dungarees were gone and she dressed in brown biker leathers.
One half of Fergus wanted to read the stone and avoid the awkwardness of meeting Boadicea again. The other half wanted to bounce over like a puppy and say hello. The puppy won.
Before he reached Boadicea, she turned round and smiled.
‘Hi, I was looking for you. I saved some decent wine; come and sit down.’
Fergus sat down next to Boadicea and she shuffled over till their thighs touched. She handed him a glass and filled it from a bottle perched on the wall.
Fergus sat watching the last of the sunset, enjoying the wine and the feel of Boadicea’s thigh next to his.
‘This is lovely and so are you,’ said Fergus.
‘Thanks,’ said Boadicea, ‘you’re quite interesting yourself.’
‘Handsome surely? Interesting is for books and ancient monuments. Why am I interesting?’
Boadicea turned to face Fergus and looked him up and down.
‘You’re like a wolf in a dog pound. You don’t look that different, but you have a dangerous feel, a certain wildness. When someone says ‘sit’ all the other dogs obey, but you think about it. Think that may be today is the day to run or the day to fight. You may even have it in you to be a warrior.’
‘Not me, I am a lover not a fighter.’
Boadicea looked down.
‘Being a warrior is not about fighting. It is willingness to fight if needed. It is taking beating and humiliation if that is best for kith and kin. It is standing back when food is served and standing in front when trouble comes. It is being honourable and most of you humans are not good at it.’
