Clovenhoof 02 Pigeonwings

by Heide Goody

  Nerys gave her sister a sceptical look.

  "You’re sure I’ll love it?"

  "I am sure. I think."

  "Why do you say that? Please tell me it's not peach?"

  "It’s not peach."

  "Peach satin is my worst nightmare."

  "Really?"

  "I don't want to look like a satin sausage."

  "What's wrong with satin? I thought it was velvet that you hated?"

  "I can hate them both, can't I?" said Nerys. "It's just that the pictures from your wedding will be around for years. People will look at their mantelpieces and see me in a shiny sausage skin and that's how they'll picture me for ever."

  "I’m the one they’re meant to be looking at."

  "Well, as long as you’re not wearing a meringue, you’ll be fine. But bridesmaids…"

  "Shut up, Nerys," said Jayne kindly. "The pictures will be amazing. We've got the monastery, the sea and the beautiful views. We'll all look like movie stars."

  "Yeah right," said Nerys. "Boris Karloff." She grinned to herself. "What's Ben wearing, anyway?"

  "We haven’t decided."

  "Don’t let him have any part in the decision-making process otherwise it will be a jeans and t-shirt wedding. Although that might be worth it, just to see mom's face!"

  "He's going to look perfectly handsome in a suit," said Jayne. "I'm sure mom will be impressed."

  "Impressed? She's never going to be impressed with Ben, I'm afraid. I'm surprised she hasn't offered you cash to call it off."

  Jayne stared fixedly at the ceiling.

  "Oh no!" said Nerys. "She did! I can't believe it! How much did she offer?"

  "It wasn't enough, let's leave it there," said Jayne.

  Nerys gave her a nudge.

  "How much would be enough?" she asked.

  "A pile of gold," said Jayne, with a sniff. "The biggest pile of gold you've ever seen. No, the wedding is going to be fantastic but, you know, it’s the honeymoon I’m looking forward to."

  "And is Ben looking forward to it too?"

  "It's going to be so romantic. Ben will get loads of inspiration for his bookshop, I'm sure. The travel section will really come alive for him when he's been to a load of different places."

  Nerys wrinkled her nose and caught an unfortunate whiff of her guano coating.

  "Have you talked to him about this?" she said. "Ben's not really the globe-trotting type."

  "I've got a plan."

  "Uh-huh."

  "It's brilliant. What I'll do is lure him in with the Alexander the Great trail. We'll visit all the places where he fought his famous battles. Ben won't be able to resist that. Then for the second stage, we'll expand it out to cover all the places that were part of the Seleucid empire."

  "Aren't lots of those places modern-day warzones?" Nerys asked.

  "Not all of them."

  Nerys sighed.

  "Well, I'm sure the two of you can sort it out."

  She stretched her arms and felt the tightening of her skin as the mask started to dry.

  "It's certainly nice to have a few minutes to chat. I wasn't sure this was the sort of place that would give us any time to- good grief what's that?"

  They both turned in alarm to the source of the sound, which was a speaker mounted on the wall. Echoing booms and eerie moans were amplified to a terrifying level.

  "Listen to the sounds of nature," came the gravelly and distorted tones of the narrator at a deafening volume. "These remarkable sounds have been recorded in the deepest oceans of the world. Let your conscious mind float away as the song of the whale speaks to your inner core."

  Nerys felt something float away. She wasn't sure if it was her conscious mind, or the last reserves of her temper and sanity.

  ~ooOOOoo~

  Ben stood with his red team mates looking out across the sun-speckled woodland. The vibrant springtime growth on the trees was dense all around them.

  "It’s beautiful," he said. He hadn’t seen any squirrels, foxes or badgers in the woods but the moment was so lovely it he just knew they were out there. "So quiet," he said.

  "Almost too quiet," said Clovenhoof ominously.

  Ben gave him a look.

  "Jeremy," he said. "When the klaxon sounds, we’re going to be pitched into battle against the blue team. This is serious stuff. You’re not going to… arse about, are you?"

  "Absolutely, I am."

  "I got sort of turned around as we came over. Is the blue base over there or there?"

  Clovenhoof shrugged gamely.

  "Ask Argyll."

  Argyll was trying to push a large white handkerchief inside his face mask to blow his nose and grumbling frequently about the pollen count.

  "I don’t think he can even see," said Ben.

  "This is probably the type of terrain that would give the Picts the edge over the Romans, don’t you think?" Darren asked.

  "You’re right," said Ben.

  "Lots of ground cover, so your big, disciplined legion will get split up. It favours the smaller, fleet-footed warrior who knows bushcraft."

  "Yeah," said Ben, with a curious glance at Darren’s vast, lumbering bulk. Did Darren picture himself slipping unnoticed between the trees?

  "Do you think you could strap all the guns together and pull the triggers with a stick?" Clovenhoof asked, examining the mechanism, and holding his gun up against Ben’s.

  "Maybe," Ben said. "How do you think that will help us?"

  "Oh, it probably won’t help us at all," said Clovenhoof. "I just thought it would be fun."

  Ben sighed in exasperation.

  "Come on team! What are we going to do when that klaxon goes?"

  "How about using Darren as a human shield?" Clovenhoof suggested. "It’s not as if he can really move around in those overalls anyway." He leaned across and whispered loudly into Darren’s ear. "There’s a Mars Bar in it for you."

  "No, we can’t do that, we need to work as a team," said Ben.

  "Hang on," Darren said. "Let’s not be too hasty. King size or standard?" he asked Clovenhoof, eyebrows raised.

  The klaxon blared.

  "Never mind all that," yelled Argyll through his hanky. "Molon Labe!"

  He ran for the top of a nearby ridge.

  Clovenhoof grabbed Ben and Darren.

  "Did he just say ‘Molon Labe’?" he asked.

  Ben nodded.

  "I haven’t heard that since there were ancient Greeks around to actually say it," mused Clovenhoof. "Why would he come out with that?"

  "It’s what King Leonidas said when Xerxes demanded that the Spartans surrender," said Darren, who was keen to earn the Mars Bar one way or another. "It means -"

  "I know what it means," said Clovenhoof. "It means ‘come and work us over, vastly superior enemy.’ Or thereabouts."

  Darren shrugged, unable to find fault with Clovenhoof’s interpretation.

  "Said shortly before Xerxes crushed and killed Leonidas and his army."

  "I think in this case," suggested Ben, "Argyll might have been using it as a battle cry, intended to motivate his brothers-in-arms to make an ill-advised charge on the off-chance that it might surprise the enemy."

  "Probably," said Darren.

  "Oh," said Clovenhoof. "Should we follow him then?"

  "Suppose so," said Ben.

  They gathered themselves together and trotted off in pursuit of Argyll, who was some distance ahead up the slope but easy to locate by the sound of his loud, wheezing breath. They were just a few feet behind him as he crested the ridge. A sudden burst of gunfire erupted from the other side, and Argyll was cut down, paint covering his entire upper body.

  Ben, Darren and Clovenhoof turned and ran, screaming into the surrounding trees.

  ~ooOOOoo~

  Zack, Michael and Andy threw themselves into a stand of bracken as Manpreet tracked the retreating Clovenhoof. Michael found his head next to a decomposing log that spilled woodlice everywhere, as he nudged it. He recoiled slightly, nos
talgic for celestial battles where the glory of Heaven was at stake, and insects were not a significant factor.

  "I heard something," said Zack.

  "Yes, it was the enemy screaming like girls as they ran away," said Andy.

  "No, over there." He pointed. "One of them is in that clearing there. Follow me!"

  Zack rushed forward.

  "He’s not the boss of us!" hissed Andy, but he and Michael scrambled after him anyway.

  "Move over! There’s no room," Darren grumbled at Ben.

  They jostled for position behind an ash tree, Ben too polite to point out that the tree was much too thin to hide Darren.

  "Someone’s coming!" Darren whispered.

  Ben watched as Darren tried to make himself as thin as possible. His body remained unaffected, but he sucked in his cheeks to a considerable degree.

  The woods had become perfectly silent. It was now indeed too quiet. If there were squirrels and foxes and badgers out there, they had gone home to hide under their beds.

  "I’m going to have a look," Ben whispered.

  Darren gave a small nod, evidently not wanting to break the intense concentration needed to keep his cheeks sucked in.

  Ben leaned forward to peer round the tree. Long moments passed, and he could see Darren in his peripheral vision, quivering with anxiety.

  "Anything?" Darren eventually said in a small, tight voice.

  Ben pulled back behind the tree, coming face to face with Darren as the paint dripped from his mask. Through the pink smear of dripping paint, Ben could see Darren’s eyes widen with terror.

  Ben watched, a bystander now, as Darren emerged to face Zack, Michael and Andy crossing the clearing. Zack was at the head of the group, grinning wildly.

  "Hey, Reverend Zack, I’m so glad it’s you," said Darren. "I know you’ll show me some Christian mercy."

  "Beat your swords into ploughshares first, buddy," snarled Zack.

  "Sorry? What?"

  "Drop your weapon."

  Darren’s eyes swivelled to Ben who gave him emboldening gestures of encouragement and then back to Zack.

  "No, sorry," said Darren. "Er, I mean Molon Labe."

  Zack fired a burst of paintballs at Darren’s feet and Darren dropped his gun with a small yelp.

  "All right! I’ll come quietly," he squealed.

  Zack blasted him squarely in the chest with several shots.

  "Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord," he said, pointing his weapon skywards with a huge grin.

  Ben watched in mild horror as Zack leaned over the gently groaning figure of Darren and ripped a long strip of fabric from the sleeve of his overall, which was almost completely detached by now. He tied it around his head, bandana-style and leapt to his feet, weapon at the ready, alerted by a snapping twig in the undergrowth. It seemed as though Reverend Zack was enjoying himself. Maybe he was enjoying himself a little too much.

  Manpreet appeared, a finger to his lips.

  "I got this one, brother," he said, pointing into the trees. He gave Zack a high five, and melted back into the undergrowth.

  ~ooOOOoo~

  Jayne sighed with relief when the whale sounds were turned off. Opal and her burly Spanish assistant entered the room.

  "Right, ladies, it’s time to remove the guano. Are you starting to feel your skin tighten and glow?"

  "I’m feeling like a freshly wrapped turdsicle," said Nerys. "Does that count?"

  Opal beamed at her.

  "You know, your kind of grey, pasty complexion shows the benefits best of all. I bet you’re pleased to hear that, aren’t you?"

  "Bloody ecstatic."

  Off came the wrap, and then Opal led them through to a shower. Jayne found herself really looking forward to a delicious, long soak. Maybe a massage was next. Something with scented oils.

  She and her sister screamed as the frigid water hit their bodies.

  "There’s something the matter!" squealed Nerys just as Jayne yelled, "The hot water isn’t working!"

  Opal rounded the corner of the walk-in shower, carrying an extension hose.

  "No, this must be cold water. We’re not just cleaning off the guano, we’re stimulating the circulatory system. You’ll feel terrific afterwards, I guarantee it. It might firm up some of that flab a little bit too."

  She blasted them with the hose, which carried an extra-powerful jet of cold water.

  "Look at those flabby thighs jiggle!" said Opal.

  "Can’t we come out now?" asked Nerys. "The guano’s all gone."

  "Not until your twenty minutes are up," said Opal. "That’s when you really get the health benefits. Let me get those bingo wings for you," she added, raising the hose higher.

  ~ooOOOoo~

  Clovenhoof turned to see Manpreet right behind him, weapon raised.

  As he spun to face him, the paintballs hit him across his torso.

  He scowled briefly in annoyance at losing, but then realised that he had some considerable experience at losing. It was one thing he knew how to do properly. Some Sam Peckinpah western movies and Bugs Bunny cartoons had given him some new ideas as well.

  He clutched his chest and staggered back and forth for a few minutes, yelling as loudly as he could. This had the desired effect of increasing his audience. The rest of the red and blue teams soon appeared. He moved on to theatrical coughing, coupled with a slow spin towards the ground, arms trailing as he collapsed. It was hard to do a slow motion death scene in real life but he gave it his all.

  But, even when he was on the ground, he wasn’t done. He propped himself up and coughed lightly again, before finally falling backwards, splayed on the ground.

  A brief ripple of applause broke out from the observers, and Clovenhoof grinned. If there was a trophy for best defeat, he’d aced it.

  ~ooOOOoo~

  Nerys and Jayne were back on treatment beds, their skin still red from the extended hosing with cold water.

  "You’ll have heard of cupping," said Opal. "It’s an ancient form of Chinese therapy. Very effective."

  "Effective at what?" Nerys hissed to Jayne.

  " Lie on your fronts for me, ladies," said Opal.

  Nerys rolled onto her front, with just a brief glance across at Jayne. Jayne seemed to have regained her composure, so Nerys resolved to accept the rest of the treatments with good grace. A curious after-effect of the cold shower was that she felt as if she could now face anything.

  "Can you smell burning?" Jayne asked.

  "It’s just the small flame that we need to create a vacuum in the cups," said Opal. Nerys felt a strange pressure on her back.

  "We place these across your body, and the suction will stimulate blood flow."

  Nerys opened her mouth to ask a question, but her words were cut off as she felt a gloved hand part her buttocks and insert something.

  She settled for yelling instead.

  "What the hell is that?"

  "Colonic irrigation," said Opal in a voice that suggested it should be obvious. "Honestly, I don’t know why you’re acting surprised."

  "Anytime someone goes up my jacksy without first giving me a bottle of wine, a bunch of flowers and twenty-four hours notice, I reserve the right to act fucking surprised."

  You read the leaflet before you came, surely?" said Opal.

  "No, I didn’t."

  Nerys glanced across at Jayne, whose face was trying to cope with the dual task of displaying the horror that her body was experiencing as well as some mild expressions of sisterly guilt.

  "Do you want to see if we can swap over to the other experience day?" Jayne asked.

  "What would that be?" Nerys asked. "Leech therapy?"

  Opal piped up, "Oh, if you’re interested in the leeches, we could-"

  "No!" chorused Jayne and Nerys.

  "It’s called ‘Vajazzle me Happy’" said Jayne, with a worried glance at Nerys.

  Nerys groaned and buried her face in her forearms in defeat.

  ~ooOOOoo~

  Clovenhoo
f looked at the teams assembled along the picnic benches for lunch. The red team was entirely covered with paint, while the blue team was completely untouched.

  "Does it remind you of the old days?" Michael asked, smoothing the fabric of his overall on his knees. Clovenhoof wanted to punch his smarmy face, but knew that the most satisfying response would be found in the paintball arena.

  "Hoo-ha! Hot dogs and burgers everyone!" yelled Chad. "I bet you guys feel as though you’ve earned it, right? Yah! There’s nothing like the adrenaline rush of a pitched battle."

  Clovenhoof grabbed a burger and wandered away from the rest of the group. The base camp was situated in a set of old farm buildings, and he made a careful examination of each one, to see what might come in handy. He had a list already in his mind. It wasn’t a list of words or objects. It was a list of petty acts of revenge and he was on the lookout for anything that could help him fulfil them.

  He found a tractor in a barn, and climbed up inside the cab. Sadly, the controls were ancient and unfathomable and the tractor didn't look as though it had moved in many years. He climbed down again, sulking slightly that he couldn't appropriate it to adapt as a tank. He moved on and found some buckets and rope.

  "Possible potential," he mused.

  Moments later, in a tumbledown greenhouse, he came across a pump-action weed sprayer, which he added to his haul. He scampered back into the woods and carefully hid his unusual collection in a thick clump of holly trees before returning to the picnic benches.

  Ben was already talking tactics with Darren and Argyll.

  "Okay, so the afternoon's game is a standard capture the flag," he said. "We all understand the rules, yes?"

  "Either we get their flag or they get ours," said Darren.

  "It's clear," said Ben, "that we're not going to win this by being better soldiers. We're going to need better tactics. Listen to me, I've been thinking about the all-time hardest arcade game from my childhood, and I think I've got a plan."

  ~ooOOOoo~

  In the ‘Revitalise’ dining rooms, Nerys poked at her plate. It was filled with chunks of dry, unappetising vegetable matter.