by Sam Cullan
Chapter Twenty-One
Alice had kept her promise to Will and massaged his aching back muscles. He adored it, perhaps more so than the wonderful kissing and bodily thrusting that followed. Will would have lived very happily ever after, wed to a skilled back masseuse. Alice had also enjoyed it, but not as much as the thrusting. Now they were slumbering, limbs entwined, minds in tune. Alice couldn't read Will's dreams, but had a pretty fair idea what they would be about. Just in case, she'd brought a bucket of water to bed; this Will found amusing and slightly scary.
The effects of a day's drinking, eating, digging and killing had taken their toll, and the two-hour session finished Will off. It was well after eleven in the morning when Alice woke and he was still snoring, albeit serenely. She got up and made some breakfast with what was left from their one shopping spree. At twelve, she returned to bed and found Will still blissfully asleep. Shaking him gently, she kissed his lips, holding her mouth over his, sealing his warm breath inside.
Will spluttered. “Drowning!”
“No. Just suffocating.”
“God, can't a man wake up peacefully?”
Will had slept well, and felt unusually sprightly. He was soon up and chasing Alice with a bucket of water. Alice swore she'd kill him, as she had no more clothes.
“We need to go to my hotel. I'm checking out, if that's OK?
“Out of here?”
“Out of my hotel.”
“Where ya gonna stay?”
“With that nice Italian waiter.”
“OK.”
“After I've screwed him, will you take me to Gidwell?”
“OK.”
“Did you hear me?”
“Screw the waiter, then drive to the grave of the man you murdered.”
“Will!”
“Yes, yes, OK. But this is definitely the last time.”
“We'll see. Remember - whatever happens, happens.”
Will could hardly renounce his philosophy now, because she might then start making plans for her future and they would invariably exclude him.
“Yes, we'll see. Que Sera, Sera.”
“Good. Hungry?”
“Only for you, my little dumpling.”
“What?”
“It's a cooked -”
“I know what a dumpling is, and usually they're round and podgy.”
“And tasty.”
“Hmm, just watch it.” She looked down at her belly, and when she breathed out, there were hints of a pot. Very, very, slight hints.
“I'm sooo fat.”
“Right, and I'm a banana.”
“Come on - breakfast, hotel, grave.”
“Coming.”
Will had a coffee and fag, as Alice had finished the milk. He didn't care because he was high on life and higher on Alice. He had two days at most, and would enjoy them.
“You should learn to drive here.”
“Yeah, I will. I'll be in London for a while, so maybe I'll get a rental.”
“Cool, then you can drive me to the pub, and I can drink.”
“Can't say I've noticed you holding back.”
“Two is my limit.”
“Two? Per hour?”
“Nag, nag, nag.”
“Punch.” She punched him. “Will ... I've been thinking.”
“Not about the future, I hope.”
“Yes. But listen, please.”
Will zipped his mouth.
“How would you feel about working for me?”
“As what? Sex slave?”
“Slaves don't get paid. I could use a driver-come-guide-come-bodyguard. Let's face it, the last agency guy didn't work out.”
“Serious?”
“Serious. But I don't want to offend your masculinity or sense of self-reliance.”
“Hey, no offence taken. What's the pay like?”
“Lousy, but you get to sleep with the client.”
“Is she good in bed?”
“The best.”
“Deal.”
Alice was happy, Will was happy. She had one more person to make happy, and she could stop making people happy, except Will who she hoped she could make happy some more.
“Drive, biatch.”
“Yes, Mam!”
Will arrived at the hotel and acknowledged the doorman. He pulled up outside the main entrance. He was now an official driver and lover of a guest, who was checking out, so he'd bloody well park where he liked. He got out and walked past the exasperated man.
“Good afternoon!”
“Sir.” Grrrrrr.
Will followed Alice to her room, and contemplated how his life had changed since he was there last. Alice even allowed him to help her pack. He wanted to call for help with the bags, but Alice spoiled his fun. She had a trolley, of course. Waving goodbye to the doorman, and leaving him with a cloud of smoke, Will eased the car into the heavy traffic. He was in no rush to get to Gidwell, and would enjoy Alice's anecdotes about some famous people. She knew he wouldn't repeat them, and if he did she knew he knew she’d cut his balls off, and probably sack him. By the time they arrived at the familiar lay-by on the edge of the moor, they were already planning a family - of rabbits.
“Tools?” Will wanted to take his shovel; it wasn't dark, but there was no knowing what exotic and bloodthirsty creature might be lurking in those woods.
“Nah, we'll be fine.”
Alice seemed to be better informed than he, and Will was getting quite curious about the trip. She led him as promised, to the well. Will was half-expecting to find a swarm of coppers and TV crews, but it was quiet - very quiet. Alice strode purposefully to the mound of soggy earth where the well had been. Will held back, waiting to see what happened. He was confident vampires and ghosts only came out at night - but that was on TV and this wasn’t, unless Alice had hidden the cameras and crew very well.
“Come on.” Alice beckoned.
Will obeyed his new employer, mindful of the probationary period.
“Trust me, Will?”
“Errr, of course.” He had his fingers crossed.
Alice took her precious amulet from her cape, pricked her finger on a sharp edge, and threw the bloody object on top of the mound. Will was speechless, and more than a little peeved.
“After what I went through, you're chucking it back?”
“Wait.”
Will waited, but wasn't happy about it.
“See.”
“What?”
“Look.”
Will looked, and saw nothing. A depression where the well was – big deal. Then it occurred to him, it had been a mound two minutes ago.
“It's sinking.”
“OK, done.” Alice picked up her amulet, wiped the mud off, and walked away. “Come on.”
“Err, that's a neat way to level ground, but what exactly is the point?”
Alice was standing ten feet away, looking all around.
“Listen.”
Will listened. There was a faint rustling from the autumn leaves, but little else.
“Leaves rustling.”
“Yeah … and?”
“Look.”
Will looked at the leaves by his feet. They were pretty colours, but he'd seen similar ones before.
“ Not down there, look.” Alice pointed.
Will followed the point, and fell to his arse. Shit. “Ghost!”
Alice waited for the figure to approach.
“Hey, Alice, what's up?”
“Hey, Marvin. Feeling better?”
“Yeah, err, why did you call me here?”
“To tell you, you don't need to worry.”
“Umm, OK.”
“See your doctor, he'll explain.”
“Sure, will do. I feel kinda weird, Alice.”
“You'll be just fine, trust me.” Alice reached out and held his hand. “Trust me, it's all fine. Come on slave, we have one more stop. Fancy a drink, Marvin?”
“Sure, err, I'm not sure where I am, or how I got here.”
“We'll get you home, won't we, Will?”
“Errrr, will we?” Will was still sat on the ground, banging his head on a tree trunk. Clearly his life was being controlled by some higher being, so he saw little point arguing about it. He got up, brushed his butt, and followed Alice. Marvin followed Will, wondering why only his head hurt, when he'd suffered from bowel cancer for months.
“Pub.” Alice enjoyed her newly official status as boss.
“Any particular pub?”
“Rabbits.”
“Spike's pub?”
“Yep.”
“You gotta be kidding ...”
“Drive, biatch.”
Will drove, desperately hoping the pub would be closed or burned down. Alice wanted to enjoy the drive across the little heath in peace, and her passengers sensed it. She only spoke to give Will directions, and to call him a dork when he still took the wrong turn.
Will pulled into the track, disappointed to see the pub still standing. Wayne's van was parked exactly where it was yesterday, and he guessed Dick Bent would still be sat in the same seat, probably cradling the same brandy glass. Will was getting good at guessing. He held the door open for Alice, waved Marvin through, and popped his head round to see who was looking at him. Spike's head was behind the shelf, so he didn't spot Will. Wayne had his head in a box of pork scratchings, and Dicky was sat at the end of the bar sipping brandy. Will sheepishly waved at Dicky, who seemed surprisingly pleased to see Alice's pervy uncle. Will supposed either he was more drunk, or had sobered up and forgotten all about him.
Alice invited Marvin to sit, and approached the bar.
“Hey, Spike.”
The waist turned and a softly-burred voice boomed down.
“Oh, hello Alice, how are you? Won't be a tick. Just doing a stock-take.”
Wayne popped up out of the box, holding a lemon. “Hello again.”
“Hi Wayne.” Alice turned to Dicky, “Hello.”
“Hi, nice to see you.”
Spike's head loomed, “I can finish that later, looks the same as last month. Can't see the point myself, but you know how accountants are.” His eyes flicked in the direction of Dicky.
“Oh, he's an accountant?”
“Part-time, well, retired really, but he didn't want to spend all his time breeding rabbits, you know how it is - got to have a hobby.”
“So,” Alice thought carefully, “accountancy is his hobby?”
“That's it. I mean, he's got all the qualifications and what-have-you, so it's all above-board.”
“Sure.” Alice smiled, and turned to see Will and Marvin sharing a gormless expression.
“Beer?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Three pints of ….. Badger?”
“Coming right up. No cocktails today? I was reading up on them last night, you wouldn't believe some of the names! Made me blush, and little Wayne fell off his stool. Could have been nasty.”
“Maybe later.”
“Power drill, wasn't it?”
“Screwdriver.”
“Oh that's right, always get those mixed up. Take a seat, Wayne will bring your beers over. Gives him something to do, you know, not much demand for three-foot plumbers really, especially since he nearly drowned in a septic tank. Nasty business that, and the insurance premiums now … whoa, sky-high.”
“Sure.” Alice joined her drivers, past and present.
“Alice, any chance you can tell me what the hell is going on? Just curious, like.”
“Simple. I figured out what the amulet does and how to use it. Marvin was going to die … it's OK Marvin, I know about your plan … and he thought he could save himself by sacrificing you. He got it wrong - he was supposed to sacrifice himself. You need ten drops of blood - anybody’s I guess - not ten pints. Good job I came along when I did.”
Marvin assumed he was dead, but thought he might as well make friends here, in what he assumed was some sort of waiting-room for the after-life.
“I see. I guess I have to thank you, Alice.”
“How do you know all this, and did you know all this before you killed Marvin?”
Alice looked at Will. “I’m not sure … and no, of course not.” She winked.
Wayne arrived with a tray of beers, and Marvin helped him lift it onto the table. “Somebody die?”
“Him.”
“Me.”
“Hello mate, Wayne's the name, plumbing's my game. Take a card, you never know when you might need me.”
“Great catchphrase, Wayne.”
“Cheers, Alice.”
Marvin thought a plumber might indeed be useful in the afterlife, so eagerly pocketed a card.
“So, Will, what do you do.” Marvin saw no need to make friends with Will, but would be polite in case he was friends with Wayne.
“He's a writer.”
Will had thought he was Alice's driver, but if she wanted him to write too he would need to re-negotiate the contract.
“Errrr … well, Alice can tell you all about me, evidently.”
“Will wrote a book, and if it wasn't for that book, none of us would be here now. Especially you, Marvin.”
Wayne overheard, and told Spike, who told Dick. Soon, there were six people around the table, and Will had to take centre stage. Alice went to the bar and made herself a screwdriver. Marvin was thanking Will for saving his life, Dick was asking him to write a book with rabbits in it, Spike wanted a book about his American-friendly pub, and Wayne wanted to see more dwarfs in popular fiction. Alice did a tour of the bar, allowing Will to relieve her of some more fame. She wondered at the museum-like exhibits, and decided there really ought to be a film about an English country pub. Soon she was back with Will, and she held his arm as he recounted the story of his hugely unsuccessful novel.
“So, my darling Will, what's your next book about?”
“Yes, tell us.”
“Errr, well I don't have any ideas, just yet. Feel free to throw some at me.”
“Rabbits!”
“Pubs for Americans!”
“Plumbing dwarfs!”
“Well, Will, will it be about any of those?”
Will looked at Alice, and knew what she was thinking. Witch.
“Maybe I can incorporate all of those ideas.”
“Good one, yeah, love it, got wide market appeal.”
“Thanks, Spike.”
“You must have some ideas yourself, hun?”
“Well, I'd quite like to write about a little girl who dreams of being a famous actress, and ends up being a Goddess.”
“Oooo, not sure there's a market for that, sounds a bit silly. Goddess? Takes a long time to become a Goddess I reckon, don't you, Wayne?”
“Long time, longer than a book.”
“Rabbits. Short life cycle, lots of sex.”
“What you gonna call it, Will?” Marvin had so far, to Will's relief, remained quiet about the subject.
Will really didn't fancy writing another book. It meant two weeks of work, thinking up new jokes, and no bugger would want to read it anyway. He really couldn't see the point. Plus, he knew damn well someone would steal his best ideas and write something for one of the big publishers, who would spend millions promoting it. Worse, there'd be a film - and he wouldn't get any credit, let alone any dosh, or to meet the actors.
“Come on Will, humour us.” Alice wanted a lot more than humouring.
“I dunno,“ he looked at Dick, who was pleading with him, “how about White Rabbits?”
“Brilliant, the title alone will sell it!” Dick was salivating.
“Sounds a little too much like the song.” Wayne's knowledge impressed Will.
“How about Odd Bunnies.” Alice winked.
“Awful, slagging off rabbits, never work.” Dicky was foaming at the mouth.
“Tell you what, I'll sleep on it, let you know soon.”
His audience were moderately satisfied with that, and allowed him free passage from the pub. Alice pass
ed Marvin a couple of fifty-pound notes and told him to call a cab to her hotel, where she'd reserved a room for him.
Outside, Alice walked arm-in-arm with Will, looking at his face.
Will was unnerved. “What?”
“So are you going to write a book?”
“You think I should?”
“Yeah.”
“It'll be shit, like before. Face it, I'm a loser.”
“You're not a loser, think what you have done these last few days.”
“I am a loser, and I don't mind. Losers get to live quiet lives. There’s no hassle from twats wanting to beat you down if you're down already.”
“Will! I am sooo gonna kick your ass if you don't brighten up.”
“Sorry. Weird day, what with all the sex and resurrections.”
“Now … The Odd Bunnies.”
Will smiled. “White Rabbits.”
“Neither of us is a rabbit.”
“Err, well by definition … bunnies?”
“Yeah, but bunnies just sound cute, like a pet name for lovers.”
“Are we lovers?”
“Absolutely.”
“I mean, lovers, not … sexers.”
“Well, I'm in love with you.”
Will stopped and kissed her, then stared into her eyes. Neither saw the shooting stars flying over their heads, or the rabbits watching from yonder field. Will knew what Alice wanted to hear, even if she already knew the answer.
“Odd Bunnies it is!”
Alice punched him. “Bastard!”
“What, I thought that's what you wanted to hear.”
Alice was in a huff.
“Oh, and I'm in love with you.”
Alice punched him for making her wait so long, then stuck her tongue out.
“You better make me sound good in this book.”
“I'm a writer, not a bloody magician.”*
Alice kicked his shin, and put naughty thoughts in his mind - all the way home. Will started work on his book the next day. It flopped.
The end.*
Backward
Overheard conversation between Alison Crass and her driver Will, after Will’s book mysteriously appeared in her email inbox.
Alison: Will, come into my office.
Will: Shit.
Alison: What the hell is this?
Will: Shit.
Alison: Who is Alice Cross based on?
Will: Nobody, she’s a fictional character.
Alison: She’s the same height as me, same age, has the same hair, same eyes, same profession.
Will: Coincidence. And I changed a few things.
Alison: Have you got an infatuation with me?
Will: Course not.
Alison: Then why describe her as Goddess. And why are we having sex in the book?!
Will: So nobody would mistake her for you.
Will lost his job with Miss Crass, and is currently looking for work driving young, blonde actresses.
He regrets he is unable to provide references due to an administrative error.
Forward
Will's sequel to The Odd Bunnies – Odd Bunnies: The Revenge - will be out soon, when he can be bothered writing it.
Thanks
Thanks to Charles Darley and Steve Polkinghorne for their help with the research and editing. Thanks to Douglas Adams (whom I have never met) for inspiring me to write at a time when my Grammar School was doing its best to put me off writing by force-feeding students a load of pretentious twaddle. Thanks to my Muse, who shall remain nameless and has in fact done nothing except exist and respond to my pesky letters with signed photos. Thanks to the internet for opening up a world of possibilities, and to Nook Press for making the publication process far easier than it used to be.
Thanks most of all to the readers who purchase this book and in doing so make the writing process worthwhile. This author is never going to get rich, or even moderately well-off, on the proceeds, but does appreciate the audience.
If you would like me to thank you personally, send money.
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The End
This is the end.