Dave Trellis and the Allotments of Doom

  ‘Dad! Please.’

  ‘Well I expect she would be doing the same as us, trying the find the control room to open one of the exits.’

  ‘She knew a lot more about the Workshops,’ said Abbey, ‘I’d be surprised if she didn’t have an exit strategy.’

  ‘This is taking ages. How far have we gone now?’ asked Dave.

  ‘I’d say at least ten miles.’

  ‘In that case it’s time for lunch.’

  ‘Good idea,’ said Abbey.

  ‘Hey up! Noggin lad, we are stopping for a bite to eat.’

  The Noggin trundled back and joined Dave and Abbey, sat on the ground. Dave passed it a cheese sandwich, which after a sniff was accepted and disappeared under the mass of hair. Dave borrowed Abbey’s notepad and wrote:

  ‘You don’t the way to the control room?’

  The Noggin reached for the pad and replied:

  ‘Never been. Is separate from this part’

  Dave sighed. They were home, with no front door keys and standing around in the rain. Dave wondered were Maeve was. If she was around here, how come they hadn’t bumped into her on the way to the wonderful vending machine? What did she know that they had missed? Dave let his gaze and his mind wonder. His eyes followed the control cables along the ceiling and then dismissed that thought. The control system was wireless, no way to backtrack to the control room. Though hang on a minute. Any control room would require a sizeable amount of electricity and you couldn’t fling that around without cables, well not unless you want to fry an unaware passer-by with megawatts of invisible power. Perhaps a judicious mapping of the electrical system might give a clue to the location of the control room.

  ‘Hey up I have an idea. You two carry on with the mapping, I’m going to have a shufti at the power distribution hereabouts.’

  ‘Ok Dad, but don’t get lost. That would be embarrassing after your little speech this morning,’ said Abbey.

  ‘No worries. Got my chalk and a decent sense of direction; she’ll be fine.’

  ‘You really need to work on your Aussie accent Dad.’

  Dave’s neck was aching from staring at the ceiling so often and he was fed up of finding local distribution panels that were supplied by rear mounted cables that disappeared into the wall. Then he opened yet another door and hit the jackpot. A huge vertical shaft with an internal staircase that was chock full of thick mains cables and enormous pipes disappearing in the gloom above and below. But what put the cheese on the cracker, was an arrow on the left pointing at the door and what unscrewed the cap on a decent bottle of Aussie Shiraz was the wriggly line of the arrow; Maeve always did her free hand straight lines as wiggles. Dave stepped in the opposite direction of the arrow and followed the path of the arrow’s writer.

  It was easy going until he met a dead end in a small room. A ventilation duct was open, the grill leant against the wall. Dave peered in. The dark obscured anything beyond a few feet and there was room enough to crawl. Just hope I don’t miss any arrows thought Dave and clambered in the duct. The metal bent under his weight with a creaking groan and he tried to distribute his weight evenly. After a few awkward struggles, Dave pulled his compass from his coat pocket and the dark duct was lit with a faint green glow. He waved it around the sides to check for any side ducts or arrows signs. It was a long crawl and his knees were aching when he found a bent arrow pointing down. Dave inched forward and found a grill set into the floor of the duct. He reached across to feel how big it was and edged further until his knees rested uncomfortably on the ridges of the grill. There was a sharp creak, a snap and the front of the grill gave way, leaving Dave to fall forwards into the dark space below.

  Fergus and Boadicea sat with their backs against the wall of a seemingly endless corridor, which they had walked along for most of the morning.

  ‘I have a confession…’ said Boadicea, ‘It isn’t very nice.’

  ‘Ah… Ok go on then,’ said Fergus.

  ‘Uncle Bran isn’t really my uncle. He was adopted by the family, as a singular honour after saving my father’s life during a rebellion. He is not my father’s genetic brother.’

  ‘I see,’ said Fergus as his world crumbled and his stomach no longer wanted to retain the rather good cheese and pickle sandwiches of lunch.

  ‘It was a convenient excuse to stay friends and I’m telling you now as I want to take things further.’

  Fergus’s stomach flip-flopped and he struggled for control, ‘Hmm?’ was all he could manage.

  ‘And that presents even greater problems,’ said Boadicea, ‘I never told you, but those Tuatha De Daanan knights who came to help; they weren’t sent by the King, they were my Honour Guard. I am Princess Boadicea, only daughter and heir to the throne. I hope you can imagine the fuss if I take up with a half-human, no matter how lovely.’

  Fergus turned to Boadicea, put his arms around her and kissed her. Sometime later they sat back again.

  ‘Love will find a way,’ said Fergus, ‘It always does.’

  ‘Will love find a way round the six feet of cold steel in my father’s sword? The one he’ll use when he tries to cut you in half?’

  ‘Such drama. I am sure we can come to some agreement.’

  ‘It is true you come from a good family, that counts and the half-human thing is not without president, but only a famous warrior or hero could be accepted with the taint of humanity upon them. You are many wonderful things, Fergus and a hero in my eyes; for my parents it needs to be something publically acknowledged; a hero in the eyes of all Tuatha De Daanan.’

  ‘Then I need a good publicist,’ said Fergus.

  Boadicea laughed, ‘And a deed to boast about.’

  ‘Don’t worry I’ll think of something. In the meantime, don’t you reckon we’ve mapped enough today? We could head back early.’

  Boadicea smiled at Fergus’s enthusiasm and nodded.

  Dave landed hands first on what felt like concrete and skidded a few feet on his face. It was utterly dark. He lay there for a few moments to orientate himself before struggling to his feet.

  ‘How bloody delightful,’ said Dave.

  ‘Don’t move,’ said a familiar female voice.

  ‘Maeve?’ said Dave.

  ‘Yes. Don’t move. Shut up.’

  Dave complied. He tried to see beyond the purple blotches, nothing. He heard a low hum.

  Something brushed his shin and he reached down and grabbed a furry animal by the scruff. It struggled and screeched. It felt like a ten pound rat.

  ‘Maeve, I caught something.’

  ‘Oh well done. Don’t let go, they have a nasty bite and a poisonous spur on their leg.

  ‘What the hell it is?’

  ‘I call them platy rats. They’re rather aggressive and attack if they see you. Hold on.’

  Suddenly Dave was blinded by light. When he re-opened his eyes, he was standing in a workshop with rows of work benches. Along the walls were machines, many recognisable as milling machines and lathes, and others were strange robotic affairs with many arms. He could see what he was holding. It was black, with smooth fur and an otter like face. It was cute as a bag of puppies.

  ‘Please kill it,’ said Maeve.

  ‘Hold hard a minute. This is an innocent creature.’

  ‘If it wasn’t Disney-cute would you hesitate?’

  Dave sniffed and reached into this pocket. He pulled out a vacuum pack of Heckmondwike Curry Pastilles and deftly popped one out of the packaging. He offered it to the platy rat, which recoiled from the pungent offering and jerked around as if in pain.

  ‘Thought as much; these things are a gnat’s from contravening the Geneva Convention.’ He dropped the platy rat and it scurried away under a large metalwork table. Dave bent down and lodged the curry pastille in the side of his brogue shoe.

  ‘Come here lass.’

  Maeve stepped closer and Dave pushed a curry pastille into the top of her calf length c
ombat boots. It felt rather intimate. He coughed and stood up.

  ‘It’s lovely to see you lass, despite circumstances. And…’ Dave suddenly grabbed Maeve and swung her round.

  ‘Abbey is alive!’

  ‘What? How?’ said Maeve and kissed Dave. It turned into a passionate clinch. Eventually Dave pulled away, held Maeve at arm’s length and stared into her eyes.

  ‘I cannot tell you how happy I am to see you at last love.’

  ‘Me too. Now tell me about Abbey. How is she?’

  Dave sat down and told Maeve all about the battle and the discovery of Abbey lodged in the machine’s buffer. He noticed she was crying and reached over and gave her a hug. She sniffed and wiped her eyes.

  ‘Such wonderful news, I must see her immediately. However, we have a situation.’

  ‘Nothing we can’t handle.’

  ‘Well, if we can find a manual or engineering drawings or something.’

  ‘You pressed something didn’t you’ accused Dave.

  ‘May have.’

  ‘Want to tell me about it?’

  Maeve sighed. ‘I was trying to switch the portal to each way. I thought I was doing fine, the whole thing is icon based, and I thought I understood the symbols.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Well, I pressed one button and a box popped up, it looked like a warning, but I ignored it. After that lots and lots of boxes popped up and a gauge appeared on the display.’

  ‘Let me guess, it was steadily rising and changing from green to yellow?’

  ‘Initially.’

  ‘So what colour is it now?’

  ‘Red heading for purple.’

  ‘Ok, so do you know a way out of here?’

  ‘Easy, there’s a step ladder over there.’

  Dave moved as fast as he could along the ventilation duct, his Harris Tweed suffered minor damage, but his knees were wrecked. They clambered out of the vent and were soon in the clean, bright corridor.

  ‘So what’s the plan?’

  ‘We have a Noggin with us.’

  ‘Well that’s lovely, but how will that help.’

  ‘Noggins can read anything. So at least we’ll know what is happening. Anyhow, this one worked here once. So I am hoping it can sort out the mess you started.’

  ‘Oh so it’s my mess now is it?’

  ‘Aye, there was no-one else there for you to blame.’

  ‘What!’

  ‘Oh get over yourself woman, it’s not like nobody else never made a mistake’

  Maeve eyed Dave and then decided to let it lie. They jogged back to the main corridor, following the arrows and they were in luck. In the far distance he could see two tiny figures. Dave yelled as loud as he could and whistled so loudly that it hurt his ears. Abbey and the Noggin didn’t notice.

  ‘Hang on a minute,’ said Dave, ‘I’ve an idea.’

  He took off his brogues, removed the laces, and then tied them together. He reached into his pocket, pulled out the vacuum-packed Heckmondwike Curry Pastels, and tied them on the end. Dave started swinging the whole contraption around his head. Faster and faster. Then it started. A low thrumming noise.

  Dave whirled it faster, then slower and the bass thrum became an oscillating roar that filled the corridor. In the far distance, the tiny figures started waving.

  ‘My, you are resourceful Mr Trellis.’

  ‘Bullroarer.’

  ‘No I mean it; most impressive.’

  ‘It’s called a Bullroarer. Aborigine thing the lads showed me when we were out and about in the jungle up there.’

  ‘That’s handy,’ said Maeve and Dave turned round to see a little golf cart speeding towards them.

  Dave, Maeve, Abbey, and the Noggin stood looking at the massive display. There were hundreds of cascaded messages on the screen, like a game of patience, and one big gauge, now violet.

  The Noggin stood examining the screen for what seemed an age. Dave was beginning to fret. He scrawled on a notepad.

  ‘Can you sort it out?’

  The Noggin glanced at the message and shook its head. Its hand reached out and pressed the display. The message boxes disappeared and the gauge reversed its direction. The Noggin scrawled a note and passed it to Dave.

  ‘Sewage tank pressure returned to normal. Not the big problem.’

  Dave scrawled a response.

  ‘What’s the big problem?’

  The Noggin scrawled another note.

  ‘Power source overload. Everything shutting down.’

  Dave sighed and showed the two notes to the others.

  ‘So we remain at square one. Or perhaps do not pass go, do not collect 200 pounds. No power, no light, no heating.’

  ‘No refectory dispenser. No tea,’ said Abbey.

  ‘What!’ said Dave, ‘Have we finally come to this?’

  ‘Cowboy up cupcake,’ said Maeve.

  ‘A Noggin? Well played Trellis,’ said a loud, familiar voice from the other side of the control room.

  ‘Engineer. You patronising, egotistical fart. How unpleasant to see your ugly face again,’ said Dave.

  ‘Such gratitude Trellis. I did save your daughter and re-unite you with your charming wife. Only their own ineptitude placed them thus.’

  Dave glared at Engineer, who ignored him and swept over to the control console. They all watched as his arms and fingers flew around, pressing, typing, swiping, and conducting the system at great pace.

  ‘There. System restored and locked. Portals shut. No more tiresome interlopers or inept users. Come, all of you,’ said Engineer and waved his hand. Everyone disappeared, leaving Dave standing in a deserted control room.

  ‘Well at least it left the lights on,’ said Dave and was immediately plunged into darkness.

  ‘Bugger.’

  Fergus and Boadicea stood in a naked embrace a little apart from Maeve, Abbey and the Noggin in the central courtyard of St Catherine’s allotments, further away sat the bemused Australians.

  ‘Strewth, a naked Sheila,’ said Hungry Joe and pointed at Boadicea.

  ‘It’s alright love, he’s never seen a real woman before,’ said Trev with a smirk.

  ‘Damn it all,’ said Boadicea, breaking away from Fergus and shouted into the air. ‘Where’s my armour, you idiot.’

  There was a series of small thumps and piles of personal possessions drop from thin air on to the stone flags.

  ‘Thank you very much,’ said Boadicea stomping over to one pile, and pulled out a silk body stocking. Fergus and the Australians were silent as they tried to both surreptitiously watch and ignore Boadicea dressing.

  Maeve sighed and stomped over to the Australians.

  ‘Come on get up. We’ve a shed load of things to get on with. You there! The one with a grin on his face.’

  ‘What me?’ asked Trev.

  ‘You’ll do. Get up. Find someone with money, there’s a bus station in the middle of town. The Australian Consulate is in London. Look for a large building with flags on it.’

  ‘Hang on a minute. We just got here,’ said Trev, ‘From what you poms are always banging on about this here should be paradise on earth. We want to spend a little time getting to know the place.’

  ‘Fine. Just do it elsewhere.’

  ‘Who set fire to your knickers love? If this here is the Allotments, Dave said they always welcomed visitors. We be friendly and house trained, all we need is a little space and a regular supply of beer.’

  Maeve stared at Trev for a moment and whistled long and hard. A barking pack of dogs came bounding over the allotments and charging out of the catacombs. There were a few moments of pandemonium, and a great deal of mutual sniffing of Noggin and dog, then Maeve barked something and the pack formed up and surrounded the Aussies.

  The Australians all stood and bowed low to the dogs. Trev reached into his breech cloth and pulled out a small vacuum packed strip of curry pastilles and started handing them out. The d
ogs enthusiastically accepted the bribe and ignoring the stormy look on Maeve’s face went to mob Abbey.

  ‘Nice one Dave, where ever you are,’ said Trev and smiled at Maeve.

  ‘Don’t get smug,’ said Maeve, ‘The dogs are fickle and keep out of my way.’ She stalked off across the courtyard and climbed the steps to the first level, heading for the pavilion.

  ‘Well, what do we do now?’ asked Boadicea.

  ‘We could finish what we started,’ said Fergus. Boadicea smiled and gently shook her head.

  ‘We’re still on a mission to rescue Dave,’ said Abbey.

  ‘That’s scuppered now,’ said Fergus, ‘We can’t get back into the Workshops.’

  ‘There has to be a way,’ said Abbey.

  Fergus scratched his head. ‘Well if there is, we will probably find out about it in the Library.’

  ‘Good idea,’ said Abbey. ‘Give me a little while to get ready.’

  ‘No,’ said Fergus and held up his hand, ‘This job is one man wide. You girls stay here and keep Maeve company.’ Abbey and Boadicea both frowned.

  ‘Don’t worry love,’ said Fergus smiling at Boadicea, ‘It’s all going to work out just grand.’

  ‘You hope,’ said Boadicea.

  ‘Hope? Nah, I have a plan.’

  ‘A cunning plan?’

  ‘So cunning you could use the left overs to make puzzles for foxes.’

  Later that day, Fergus and the Noggin mounted the tandem, complete with intransigent dog sat in the front basket, and unsteadily headed into the catacombs. The Australians wanted to come too, but Fergus persuaded them that National Express coaches were an essential part of the British experience for the Australian abroad. Abbey and Maeve watched them depart and Boadicea gave a little wave and blew a kiss, causing a momentary lapse of tandem control as Fergus return the gesture over his shoulder.

  With shouts of ‘Get off’ and ‘Not the face’ Fergus and the Noggin passed the Roof spiders and entered the catacombs proper, heading for the M7, the Dark Library and all possible places in-between.

  Sat in a small glow of green light Dave considered his options. The workshops were sealed. The control console locked; he’d tried repeatedly to no avail. His small, helpless plan was to hide in a shipment until delivery, but that relied on knowing what was shipping soon, otherwise he could wait, sat on a pallet, until Sunless Sea froze over.

  If only it was a human construction, thought Dave, there would be access doors all over the place, each liable to gentle persuasion with an axe.