“Phew.”
Pol exhaled a long, slow breath of relief. Sweating like a pig, his heart racing, light-headed, and feeling faint, he almost fell over as he tried to shuffle backwards, away from the gory sight of the werewolf’s brain oozing from its crushed skull.
“Wow. Brill.”
Eyes wide with excitement, Pol turned around and started to push the rough rock wall he had built at the narrow end of the funnel like cave. The wall gave way and he shoved loose rocks to one side. This allowed him just enough room to be able to scramble out through the back door of the cave.
When he stood up, Pol warily looked around him. Half expected to see a whole pack of werewolves surrounding him with the intention of tearing him to pieces in revenge for the death of their fallen comrade.
Nothing.
Pol heaved another sigh of relief.
The creature must have been hunting alone.
“Tough shit, doggy,” he said as he surveyed the heap of rocks which had once been his porch. He stepped away and leant his backside against the front wall of his larder. He spied a tired-looking Tinker blinking against the light as he slowly emerged from behind a large boulder where he must have been sheltering from the burning rays of two suns.
“Aw. What a shame,” cooed Pol breathlessly making an attempt at mock sympathy. “You’ve missed all the fun, sleepy head.”
Tinker looked around and made bewildered when he spotted the carcass of the dead werewolf buried amid the heap of fallen rocks. He sauntered over and sniffed at the beast. Decided the cadaver presented no threat to either him or Pol and walked away to sit at Pol’s feet. Yawned loudly, as if sleepily saying, “‘I knew you could handle this one on your own.’”.
Pol shook his head and grinned at the dog.
“Now what do I do?” he asked as he stared at the dead werewolf and heap of rocks whilst trying to wipe the sweat from his face with the palm of his right hand.
Images flashed in his brain, mere nanoseconds ahead of other relevant thoughts.
‘Spear, knife, sword, bow and arrows, stakes, knife, wall, spike, sword, fence, and sword.’
“That’s it!” he declared to a startled Tinker. “I gotta make me a sword and some kind of fence, or a wall around this area. A sword would have come in handy just now.”
How he was going to make a sword was another question. When he was at school, perhaps nine or ten years old, he and a few of the other boys had made swords for themselves, but these were only short sticks with another shorter stick tied across, near the top, so they roughly resembled a cross. Not up to a gladiator’s standard but good enough to play with.
“I’ll need something a bit stronger than two little sticks.”
As for the fence-cum-wall, he would have to think about how he would go about building one. A barrier of such proportions would take more than a bit of planning and a lot of hard work. It would have to be able to withstand an attack by more than one wolf.
Meanwhile,
He had him a stack of rocks to move and the carcass of another dead animal to take care of...
Chapter 72
Ted stared blankly at the two slices of cold toast lying on the plate on his lap. Congealed butter had soaked into the bread when it was hot. Now, the surface was wrinkled and greasy. This made the bread hard, too brittle. He had not really fancied toast but had gone through the motions, robot-like. Automatically popped the bread into the toaster, waited for the timer to tick round then spread it, too thickly, with hard butter taken straight from the fridge. Not an easy job at the best of times. Joan had refused to buy the easy-spread tubs. Said it did not taste the same.
The plate wobbled slightly in time with his trembling knees. The plate could slip and fall at any moment but he did not seem to notice.
Ted made a silent sneer when he noticed the congealed butter.
‘Silly cow,’ he thought.
He removed the plate from his lap and placed it to one side on the small table before returning to his study of the racing page. Made a note of the date on the top of his betting slip. October 10th. Thought, ‘How long has the daft boy been missing now?’
He quickly worked out the number of days in his mind.
‘Bugger me. It’s been three months already.’
Made a worried frown and glanced at the silently scowling ghost of his wife. She no longer spoke to him, not after he had mentally gagged her. She did not like that. As if he cared. As long as she kept quiet, she could haunt him as much as she wanted to.
The TV was talking to itself. Ghost Joan normally hung on every word of the local news, hoping to hear something about Appollinaire. Not a word, which was the reason for her scowl. She opened her mouth, as if she was going to say something, but Ted mentally forbade her to speak. He enjoyed having such power. He had soon discovered how she could do nothing unless he let her. All he had to do was think her quiet, or gone, and it was so. After all, she was only part of his imagination. If only he had had such power when the old witch was alive.
‘Three months,’ thought Ted. ‘Looks like she’s lost a bit of weight. Looks like a skeleton with skin.’
Realizing what he had just thought, he chuckled.
He made a deeper frown as he felt something deep inside his chest give a little kick. Last time he had felt something like this, he had caught sight of a teenage girl going up an escalator in the local shopping mall. She had been young enough to be his daughter, pretty a picture. Deep red hair, light brown freckles, plus a figure to match any of the so-called superstars, in their skimpy frocks, who were making headlines in the daily papers. Dirty thoughts had haunted him for days thereafter, until he had finally come to his senses.
Thump.
Another slightly stronger kick caused him to sit up straight, clutch his hands to his chest, and inhale deeply through clenched teeth.
‘Don’t. Not a bloody heart attack.’
The thought terrified him.
A few deep breaths, a glance at his still scowling wife, and a silent prayer, and all was well.
‘Thank shit for that.’
He began to breathe easy and relaxed.
‘Not a heart attack.’
Joan did not appear to notice anything amiss. She stared unseeing. Where her mind was, was anyone’s guess.
“Joan,” said Ted quietly.
No response.
“You all right, girl?”
Joan blinked and made a slight shake of her head.
Ted leaned forward and peered at her beneath lowered eyelids.
“Why?” he asked. “What’s the matter?”
Again, she shook her head.
“Come on,” Ted urged. “Tell me what’s troubling you.”
Joan made a small sneer and shrugged her shoulders. Without looking at Ted she whispered, “As if you didn’t know.”
Ted sighed and made a wry grin.
‘It’s got to be the boy. She’s not been the same since he left.’
“Come on. Be right. If anything had happened to him the police would have told us by now.”
Joan closed her eyes and allowed her head to droop.
He allowed her to carry on talking.
“We should have heard something by now. He would have told us. Sent us a letter, a postcard, or a phone call. Something’s wrong. He wouldn’t leave us wondering all this time, not for three months.”
Ted inhaled deeply and gritted his teeth.
‘I might have known.’
“Could be, he’s mad at us. Trying to punish us for something we’ve done to him,” he suggested.
“Such as…?”
Ted shrugged.
“I don’t know. He doesn’t like doing the washing-up, doesn’t like tidying his room, and, because it’s summer; he doesn’t like having to mow the lawn, or weed the garden. Never gets to go out with his mates, if he has any that is.”
Joan was not convinced.
“No. There’s no reason why he should run away. He’s just an ordinary tee
nager; no teenager likes doing chores.”
‘Bugger,’ thought Ted.
“Cup of tea?” he asked.
“Got one.” She raised her arm to show him the cup she was holding.
“It’s cold.”
“I’ll drink it.”
“You don’t like cold tea.’
“I said; I’ll drink it. Why don’t you bugger off to the pub and leave me alone?”
Ted pressed his lips tightly together knowing if he said anything else that it would probably start an argument.
‘Good idea.’
Better than a sodding, cup of tea.
“Ok. I’ll leave you to it. You might be in a better frame of mind when I get back.”
Joan looked down at the toast, as if she had just realized it was there.
“I’ll be fine.”
Without another word, Ted rose from his seat, retrieved his jacket from the back of the chair where he’d thrown it earlier, and headed for the kitchen door and freedom.
‘Silly cow. I hope she doesn’t do something silly while I’m out…’
Chapter 73
Pol was picking deep purple, plum-like fruits from a large tree covered in short prickly thorns.
Tinker was nearby, sniffing at something in the undergrowth. An unusual smell had attracted his attention.
Tinker growled,
“‘Grrr.’”
He backed off a few steps. His ears went forward and he cocked his head to one side, listening.
Pol glanced at the dog.
“What’s up, old pal?” he asked with a grin. “What have you got there?”
“‘Grrr,’”
Tinker made a step forward and lowered his head. Sniffed the air,
“‘Grrr,’” he repeated.
Pol turned around and squatted down beside the dog. Tried to see what was so interesting.
“What is it?” he asked quietly.
Tinker suddenly jumped forward and patted a group of low ferns with both of his fore paws.
“Get it!” urged Pol.
‘Whatever it is.’
The dog snapped at the thing trapped between his paws, but he didn’t actually bite it.
A high-pitched squeal emitted from the trapped creature. Pol leaned forward, balancing on his hands and knees. He could see it now. Mouse-like, but bigger than a mouse. More like a rat, but not like a rat.
‘Some kind of dormouse?’ he wondered.
Tinker lifted his right paw and smacked the animal on its head. It emitted another squeal.
“‘Bark!’” shouted Tinker. “‘Bark!’”
Pol laughed aloud.
“You tell it,” he said. Shuffled forward and reached out towards the frightened creature.
“Here let me have it,” he ordered the dog.
Tinker allowed Pol to take hold of the creature before releasing it. He backed off and sat watching as Pol picked up the small furry animal with both hands, cupping it in such a way it could not bite him.
“Good boy,” said Pol.
He held the small creature up so he could get a better look at it.
“Now what have we here? Eh? Let’s have a look at you.”
The creature had a flat face, which was unusual for a rodent, and two large black eyes. Two large upper teeth poked out from beneath its top lip. Pol could not see any ears, presumed they were small enough to be covered by the long coarse hair, which covered the creature’s body. Four paws, each with three long blunt claws, and a web of skin between each toe, looked as if they were made for both digging and swimming.
The animal squeaked at Pol but no longer appeared to be afraid. Perhaps because Pol made sure he was gentle with it. He did not want to hurt the animal.
The creature made another squeak.
‘Is it asking me to let it go?’
Pol grinned and looked down at Tinker.
“What do you think, Tink? Shall we let it go?”
“‘Bark,’” said Tinker without anger. He shuffled on his backside as he backed off further.
Pol gently stroked the back of the creature’s head with the index finger of his left hand.
“Ok little fellow. This is your lucky day. If I were you, I wouldn’t let this brute of a dog catch me again. Ok?”
He lowered the animal to the ground and opened his hands, allowing the creature to scamper off into the undergrowth where it promptly disappeared. Pol heard a small squeak and took this to be a, ‘Thank you.’
“You’re welcome,” he said. Turning to look at Tinker, he smiled and nodded his head. “Good boy. No need to kill the poor thing just for the sake of it, eh?”
Getting to his feet, Pol returned to the task of picking a few more fruits from the tree, being careful to avoid those vicious-looking thorns.
After collecting enough fruit, as they headed back towards the cave, Pol absentmindedly made a wrong turn, there being no clearly defined paths of any kind in the wild forest. Tinker thought Pol knew what he was doing and faithfully followed him further into the depths of the forest.
It was a good fifteen minutes before Pol realized they were heading the wrong way. He stopped and scanned the surrounding trees. They all looked the same. Because of the dense foliage overhead, he was unable to see where both of the suns were and could not be sure which direction was ‘home.’
“That’s stuffed it,” he whispered.
Looking over his shoulder, he could just make out some flattened ferns, grass, and a few broken twigs, showing which way they’d come.
“Reckon we need to backtrack a bit, Tinker. Don’t you?”
The dog appeared to understand what Pol was saying and turned around, proceeded to sniff his way back.
“Good dog. I’ll follow you,” said Pol as he fell in, behind the dog.
After a short distance, Tinker suddenly stopped and emitted a long, low growl,
“‘Grrrrrr.’”
Pol also stopped, waited, and listened. He heard nothing, other than the dog growling.
“Don’t tell me you’ve found another one of those little dormice,” he said. “Leave it alone and let’s go home.”
But Tinker did not move.
Pol made wary as he quietly crept alongside the dog. He crouched beside Tinker and peered through the lower branches of a large bush.
“What now?” he whispered. “What is it this time?”
The foliage was dense, but Pol thought he could see something beyond.
“Is it another one of those werewolf things,” he asked, making ready the spear he had been carrying with him, knowing his bow and arrow would be next to useless in such an area of overhanging branches and thick trees.
‘Wish I’d made me a sword I could use up close.’
With the small pouch of fruit attached to his new makeshift belt of wolf skin, Pol crawled forward on his hands and knees in order to get a better look at what was on the other side of the tree. What he saw made him catch his breath.
‘Ugh? Is that a woman? No. She’s too old. More like a girl?’
“What the...”
He motioned for Tinker to stay where he was and raised a finger to his lips.
Tinker knew what this meant; he had to remain silent. The dog stopped growling and lay down with his snout pushed beneath the lower branches of the bush, sniffing the female’s scent. The rancid smell of stale sweat and piss told him, this creature was not any of those kinds of human female creatures, which he was used to. Too many of these smells were different. Too many were unidentifiable.
Pol lay on his stomach, beneath the lower branches of the bush, and peered through the undergrowth. The female was lying on her back, propped up in a half-sitting, half-lying position against a tree trunk. She appeared to be alive. At least she was breathing.
Pol exhaled a long, low breath through pursed lips.
‘Wow! She’s naked!’
The female was indeed naked, although she was not naked as any normal human female would be. Her body, apart from her head, which
sported long, shoulder length dark brown hair, was covered in short, fine brown hairs. Her eyes were closed and her breathing appeared to be labored.
Pol’s eyes explored the female’s body as he tried to decide what he should do. Her pretty, young face was covered with finer, lighter hairs than the rest of her body. Like any other girl, she had two eyes, a nose, and a mouth. Pol assumed she would also have two ears concealed behind her dense head hair. The only female breasts he had ever seen, before now, were those most frequently displayed on page three of the newspaper his father bought every day. This female’s breasts did not appear to be any different, apart from the covering of hair. They were small, pert, firm, with normal-looking nipples.
Holding his breath, Pol tried to control his emotions as he slowly scanned down her body. Yes, she had a belly button, and, because her legs were parted, her right leg straight and her left leg bent at the knees, lying at an angle to one side, he could clearly see her vagina.
‘Oh bugger.’
No. He had never seen a female vagina as such, but had once caught a glimpse of a girl’s knickers when she had fallen on the playground. The shape of her camel toe had been clearly discernible. This girl’s vagina seemed to be similar in appearance, although he was just guessing.
“Whoosh,” he whispered. “Wow.”
He glanced at the girl’s face. Her eyes were still closed.
‘She doesn’t know I’m here.’
Pol took his time scanning her body again.
This time, he noticed how the girl’s right leg was not only lying straight out in front of her, but there was also a large gash stretching from just above her ankle all the way up to her knee. Blood had been oozing from the wound, but it now appeared to have clotted, to a certain extent. The ground beneath her leg was stained a dark red.
‘Oh.’ thought Pol. ‘No wonder she’s lying down. I bet she can’t walk on the damaged leg. I wonder how she managed to do that.’
A pang of remorse stabbed his mind. Here he was, ogling the naked girl, and thinking naughty thoughts whilst she was lying there, injured, and no doubt in considerable pain.
‘Shit,’ he remonstrated. ‘Get over there and give her some help.’
Appollinaire: (The Other Side of Nowhere) Page 21