by Heide Goody
“Oh, Hell,” said Nerys miserably. “That monkey’s a bloody psycho.”
Clovenhoof was up, and clapped Ben on the shoulder.
“Come on then, let’s go and see. Lead the way, Nerys.”
Nerys grabbed her handbag as she went to the door, knowing what an ineffectual weapon it was. Perhaps she should put something heavy inside.
The three of them crept up the remains of the stairs, the sounds becoming more distinct as they went. Snuffling, chomping sounds.
“That doesn’t sound particularly monkey-like,” said Ben.
Clovenhoof’s phoned beeped. The other two shushed him.
“It’s Michael,” he whispered. “He thinks he knows where the beast’s lair is.”
“One crazy creature at a time, please,” said Nerys.
Clovenhoof’s phone beeped again. He read the text.
“Ah.”
“Ah?” said Ben.
“Yes. That one creature at a time thing. Probably not going to happen.”
Nerys stared at him.
“You mean …?” She pointed up towards the door of her flat.
Clovenhoof shrugged. “Michael. Pff. What does he know? Go on.”
Nerys looked back at Ben, who urged her forward with hand gestures.
She edged along the landing to look inside the doorway of her old flat, and gasped with horror. The beast that she’d unleashed from the lab was indeed there, lying on a pile of cardboard, its long limbs stretched out, and its eyes half-closed. Gorky, that ridiculous monkey that caused a great many of their current problems, was sitting on its back, gently scratching between its ears and grooming its fur.
“That’s nice,” said Clovenhoof, peering round the door frame. “Gorky’s found something else to look after. This has got internet meme written all over it. Let me take a picture.”
Ben was the last to peek round the doorframe, and, as he did, his foot went through a broken floor board. He made a tiny sound of despair and horror. The beast snapped its head up and roared. Nerys screamed and backed up, tripping over Ben as she did so.
The beast sprang up, spilling Gorky of its back.
“Ooh, who’s not an early morning person?” said Clovenhoof.
The beast leapt over them and ricocheted down the stairs. Gorky squawked in rage, frisbeeing the remains of crispy pancake boxes at the intruders.
“Why are there crispy pancake boxes everywhere?” warbled Ben, dazed and alarmed on the floor.
“It’s simply what happens when you’re top of the food chain,” said Clovenhoof. “You eat the best of everything.”
Gorky, having seen how ineffective a cardboard frisbee attack was, picked up the jagged remains of a Lambrini bottle and charged at the humans.
“Monkey!” yelled Ben, panicked. “Monkey! Monkey!”
The crazed capuchin coiled like a spring and launched itself at Clovenhoof’s face.
“Hey, good bu…” Clovenhoof managed before Gorky enveloped his head like an alien face-hugger.
Clovenhoof flailed, giving out muffled screams.
“Help him!” shouted Ben.
“I think he’s doing just fine,” said Nerys callously, as she disentangled herself from Ben.
Clovenhoof punched at the air. A random stabbing thumb must have connected with his mobile, and Nerys heard the soundtrack of some video that Clovenhoof had taken of himself and Toyah Wilson’s baby girl. Gorky’s onslaught stopped, and the monkey looked at the phone screen.
Gorky made a querying sound.
“Mmm mmf ffle park,” said Clovenhoof, still with a face full of monkey tummy fur.
Clovenhoof blindly swiped the phone and a fresh video started. He wriggled and huffed to free his face.
“And that’s the day we went clay pigeon shooting,” he explained.
Gorky cradled the phone in his hands and brought his face close to the image of the burbling baby girl. He cooed softly, and stroked the screen.
“Getting bigger every day,” Clovenhoof replied. “Her mum lets me look after her sometimes.”
Gorky looked at him.
“I’m sure she’d be delighted to see you again,” he added.
“Touching,” said Ben. “Now that you’ve made friends with one dangerous beast, could we perhaps get after the one that’s just escaped?”
“Chase it?” said Nerys. “A moment ago we were all cowering in fear of it.”
“A momentary lapse in courage,” said Ben.
“You’re wearing a dressing gown. You’re not exactly well-prepared for monster chasing.”
“The Arthur Dent look is in this year.”
Nerys looked at the room, still startled but also thoughtful.
“The thing I don’t get is, why would it make its den here?”
“It’s attracted to penthouse living,” suggested Clovenhoof.
“It’s as though it knows this place. As though it remembers it.” She pictured the room as it had been when it was furnished, imagining the little blanket-filled basket that had once stood where that cardboard nest was now. “It remembers having lived here before.”
“Before?” said Ben.
“I know it’s not scientifically possible, but it’s like memories of its previous life have been carried in its DNA. It remembers what – who – it had once been.”
“Yes, I’m sure,” said Ben doubtfully. “Come on, let’s get after it.”
They piled down the stairs – two humans, Satan, and a monkey perched on Satan’s shoulder – and out of the front door. The rain had worsened, if anything. The pre-dawn sky was slate grey and water had pooled across the front path.
“Where did it go?” Ben asked.
Nerys pointed as something bounded over a low brick wall that bordered the road a few hundred yards away.
“What’s down there?” asked Ben, as they crossed over to take a look.
It looked like an overgrown ditch and rushed with rainwater.
“A drainage culvert,” said Clovenhoof promptly. “It goes under the road and into a tunnel.”
“How on earth would you know a thing like that?” asked Nerys.
“It’s a highly desirable tunnel that sleeps three comfortably. Some mates of mine showed it to me,” said Clovenhoof. “Dan and Quentin know a lot of interesting things about the area. Did you know, for example, that there’s an office in the town, I forget which one, that’s got these old radiator pipes where you can dry your socks if you ever need to?”
“That would be an estate agents’ office,” said Nerys, her eyes narrowed, “and it explains a lot about the funny smell that we sometimes get after it rains.”
“So do we need to get down into that ditch to follow it in?” asked Ben, peering at the drop.
“No, there’s a manhole cover we can use,” said Michael, suddenly beside them.
“Jesus!” gasped Nerys, surprised at his stealthy appearance.
Michael considered this. “Close. Not quite.”
Clovenhoof looked Michael’s sleek black outfit up and down.
“Did the gimp convention finish earlier than expected?” he sneered, and high-fived his monkey.
“Are those NVGs?” said Ben, interested.
“Top of the line,” said Michael, slipping the goggles off his brow and letting Ben have a look.
Nerys gave the archangel a sternly unimpressed look. “Gonna take a wild stab here, but is someone hoping to capture the beast in order to win favours with his loony messiah-complex church leader?”
“Chip does not have a messiah complex,” argued Michael.
Clovenhoof snorted.
“What?” said Michael.
“There’s a pit in the Old Place waiting for Mr Malarkey. He’ll be able to play tennis doubles with Jim Jones, David Koresh, and Marshall Applewhite.”
“Enough snide remarks,” said Michael. “We have a duty to track this monster. Nerys, I’m sure you, of all people, understand the need to contain such a menace, now it’s been released.”
Michael walked over to a manhole cover and pulled it up.
“I really don’t see that it’s my duty at all, especially with a hangover,” grumbled Nerys, but she followed Clovenhoof as he climbed down the ladder.
Nerys reached the bottom and was relieved to find that there was something solid to stand on. What was less pleasing was the sound of rushing water that seemed very close by. She could see nothing.
“Where are you?” she asked and, just for once, was relieved to hear Clovenhoof’s voice.
“Right here. I’ll take your hand if you like, just let me give Mr Big a quick shake now I’m all done.”
“Are you having a wee?” asked Nerys, incredulous.
“I’m very suggestible,” said Clovenhoof. “The noise of running water does it to me every time.”
“Jeremy,” said Michael, brushing Nerys’s side as he stepped off the ladder. “I take it you came down here with a plan? Tell me you’ve at least got a torch.”
“I’ve got one in the pocket of my dressing gown,” said Ben, as he clattered down the steps. As he hit bottom he turned it on. “Better?”
Nerys decided that it was much better. They were stood on a metal grille walkway, six inches above the flowing water. Behind them, the culvert ran out into the open. Ahead, Ben’s torch shone a light on the T-junction that split north and south along Chester Road.
“We need to split up and check both of these tunnels,” said Michael.
Nerys rolled her eyes. “We only have one torch.”
“I have night vision,” said Michael, tapping his goggles.
“And I can see in the dark,” said Clovenhoof.
“Since when?” said Ben.
“Well, you know how rabbits can see in the dark because they eat lots of carrots?”
“Allegedly.”
“I thought I’d learn a lesson from the natural world.”
“You don’t eat carrots,” Ben scoffed.
“No. I eat rabbits. Not sure when the night vision superpowers are due to kick in. Any second now, I reckon.”
“Splitting up is such a rookie error,” said Nerys. “We’re here in the sewers with a fearsome beast. Everyone in the entire world knows that you don’t split up or it will just pick us all off, one by one.”
“Fine,” sighed Michael. “This way then,” he said, and led them on.
“They always split up on Scooby Doo,” said Ben.
“This isn’t Scooby Doo,” said Nerys.
Water rushed beneath them, and strange plops and groans echoed along the tunnel.
“It’s a bit like Scooby Doo,” said Ben quietly. “Four young people …” He looked at Clovenhoof. “… Young-ish people, chasing monsters and solving mysteries.”
“They had a dog.”
“We’ve got a monkey,” said Clovenhoof, and Gorky squeaked in agreement.
“And we’re chasing a dog – of sorts,” said Ben.
More true than you know, thought Nerys. The beast was, by all accounts, part-Twinkle. And it couldn’t be coincidence that it had made its bed in the same spot as the original Twinkle’s bed. Was there more than just a trace of her old pet in that monstrous creature?
“This is like a Scooby Doo chase, and you’re all relying on me, the only one with the sense to have a torch,” said Ben. “That makes me Fred, by my reckoning. Or maybe Velma, the one with the brains.”
Clovenhoof snorted loudly. “Fred? I don’t think so. There’s only one of us with the looks for that. You can be Velma.”
“Neither of you can be Velma,” said Nerys. “She’s a girl, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“Sexist,” said Clovenhoof.
“It’s clear that I’m the one here with Velma’s brains. I just happen to have Daphne’s looks as well.”
“Michael can be Daphne,” said Clovenhoof.
“And this is a female character?” asked Michael.
“Very concerned with outward appearances,” said Ben.
“Always fashionably dressed and checking herself in the mirror,” said Clovenhoof.
Michael silently reflected on this and offered no complaints.
They continued in silence for a little way.
“I’m not being Shaggy,” said Ben sullenly. “Okay. I’m not Shaggy.”
He slapped the side of his torch. The light was very faint and seemed to be getting fainter.
“When did your torch last have new batteries, Ben?” asked Nerys.
“Never. It came out of a cracker a couple of Christmases ago,” said Ben. “Don’t blame me, at least I had a torch. Which of you rang the police, by the way?”
There was a silence as nobody responded.
“No signal on my phone,” said Michael.
“Me neither,” said Clovenhoof, “but I’ve got wifi from somewhere. I’ll tweet them instead.”
“You’re tweeting the police?” said Nerys. “Is that even a thing?”
“They’re always tweeting about their dogs and their helicopter,” said Clovenhoof. “I don’t see why not. There.”
“What have you said to them?”
“Well, remember we can’t go over the character limit so I said @WMPolice, we need your help. Give us a go with your helmet and I’ll cum quietly.”
There was silence.
“Why on earth did you say that to them?” asked Nerys, eventually.
“It’s what I always say to them. My little police joke,” said Clovenhoof.
“Well, all I can say it that it’s a good job you didn’t actually say where we are,” said Michael.
At that moment, Ben’s torch gave up the ghost and died.
“And now we’re stuck in the dark.”
“Here,” said Clovenhoof, and cranked up the brightness on his phone. The bright screen lit up the tunnel ahead. Nerys felt momentarily better, and then she saw the glint of eyes ahead of them.
“Look!” she hissed.
They peered into the gloom. The eyes glittered and drew nearer, accompanied by a skittering sound.
“Rats!” gasped Nerys, as a small creature rushed past them through the tunnel. “I really hope that’s a one-off. Foul creatures.”
Even as she said it, there were more sets of eyes coming towards them.
“Are they running away from the beast or the water?” asked Ben. “Because I don’t know if anyone else noticed, but the water level is rising. My slippers are sopping wet.”
Clovenhoof shone the light from his phone towards the floor to see that water was now swirling across the walkway.
“Right,” said Michael briskly. “We need to hurry up and find this beast, and dispatch it if we can.”
“Dispatch it?” said Nerys. “Surely, we can be more humane than that.”
“Subdue it at least,” said Michael.
“What weapons have we even got between us?” asked Ben.
“I picked up a housebrick back there, and put it in my handbag to give it some clout,” said Nerys, “and I imagine Ben’s got a pocket knife on him somewhere.”
“Be prepared,” said Ben, flourishing a Swiss army knife. “Motto of the boy scouts.”
“And paranoid survivalists everywhere,” said Clovenhoof.
“Good, that’s settled then. On we go,” said Michael.
“It could be anywhere by now,” said Nerys witheringly. “Or were we planning on just whistling and waiting for it to come?”
Clovenhoof clicked his fingers.
“We can tag it!” he said. He fished a half-eaten crispy pancake from his pocket and waved it under his nose. “Irresistible. Gorky, your collar.”
Clovenhoof helped Gorky slip off the plastic collar about his neck.
“And Nerys, check inside your handbag,” said Clovenhoof. “I think you might have a small makeup compact that isn’t yours.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Nerys, rummaging. “I know exactly what’s in h… Oh. That’s strange. Wait, did you put that there?”
“Yup,” said Clovenhoof. “It’
s the tracker that helped us to find you when you shagged Spartacus’s granddad.”
“For the last time, I did no such thing!”
“You do have a certain reputation,” said Michael.
“Hey, don’t judge a book by its cover,” said Ben gallantly.
“No, I judge it by how many library stamps it’s got in it,” said Clovenhoof.
“What’s the plan?” said Nerys loudly.
“Oh. We get the beast to swallow one of these, and we can track it wherever it goes,” said Clovenhoof proudly.
“Those trackers won’t work underground,” said Ben.
Michael scrutinised the tracker in Nerys’s compact. “They might work. It’s using active RFID so it will transpond with any radio or wireless signal.”
They tucked the devices into different chunks of crispy pancake. Clovenhoof tossed one down one tunnel and gave the other a brief, wistful lick before tossing it in the other direction. He pulled out his phone and activated the app.
“It’s there, I can see it!” he said. “I can see where we are on here as well, we’re right under your Consecr8 church, Michael. I’m on their wifi. See if the app will install on your phone, Michael. I’m not sure yours is up to the – oh, you’ve done it already.”
Clovenhoof rolled his eyes. They walked on, peering into the shadows and feeling the water very definitely sloshing around their ankles.
“Should we go back?” asked Nerys. “This water could get to be a problem if it comes any higher.”
“Scared?” said Clovenhoof.
“No,” she said. “Although I’m not entirely sure what you think we’re going to do once we’ve cornered it.”
“We’re going to fell the beast with a housebrick and a Swiss army knife,” said Clovenhoof.
“It had better be a bloody fearsome Swiss army knife,” she muttered.
“It’s got a corkscrew and a pair of nail clippers,” said Ben proudly.
“Great. We can offer it a manicure or ply it with wine,” she said. “It’s not much good really, is it? I wonder if we could poison it? Have you got any more of those pancakes Jeremy? I’ve got some paracetamol,” said Nerys.
“How many?” asked Clovenhoof.
“About six.”
“I don’t think that would even take the edge off a minor headache for that bad boy,” said Clovenhoof. “We need some other plan. Could we trap it inside that bit underneath the church, maybe?”