Dave Trellis and the Allotments of Doom

by S.B. Davies

‘No. Shut up a minute. We are on a dangerous endeavour to save all that I still find worthwhile in a chaotic, unfair world filled with disappointment. It is important. Important in real terms. People I care about will suffer and even die if I don’t succeed. This is not about the pointless accumulation of wealth or kudos. It is about security, happiness, and continued existence. So the fact that you are hungry, scared, and despondent isn’t important. Get over it.’

  Fergus took another deep breath and then said nothing.

  ‘In many things you have great strength,’ said Dave quietly, ‘but you need to change your attitude. The attitude you show the world makes you look weak. The attitude you hold inside makes you weak. Consider that everyone around you has similar or worse problems. They just don’t talk about it. Consider that your attitude is your own choice. Consider that you are going to die. It is only a case of when and how. And lastly consider how much fun you are missing by being a bloody misery.’

  ‘It’s easy to say,’ said Fergus, ‘And I try –’

  ‘There is no try, only do. Some puppet in a film said that.’

  ‘That’s wrong, it’s –’

  ‘Nothing can be harder than the search for fun’, Berthold Brecht.’

  ‘You can throw quotes at me all night Dave. Words are easy, doing is hard.’

  ‘And again you quote me,’ said Dave and smiled.

  ‘I did, didn’t I. Ah well. My attitude will change. I will make it change.’

  ‘It’s easier you know?’

  ‘What’s easier?’

  ‘Living life with a good attitude.’

  ‘Well Dave, I have here a nice, clean, warm place to sleep. I think I shall get on with it.’

  ‘You do that lad. Tomorrow is going to be a good day. We’ve achieved much and will achieve more.’

  ‘But will it be enough?’

  Dave stared at Fergus.

  ‘Sorry Dave.’

  Dave woke Fergus at 7am GMT and they breakfasted on the last of the digestives, hidden by Dave the night before, washed down with tea. They shouldered their packs and set off along the clean, brightly lit corridor. Same as the day before, an uphill walk that promised an end just around the constant curve ahead.

  ‘Do you think we will make it in time?’ asked Fergus.

  ‘Of course,’ said Dave, ‘Failure isn't in my dictionary.’

  ‘What about cock-up, disaster, and FUBAR?’

  ‘Sorry, I was being glib. We are in a bit of hole, but something will turn up.’

  ‘Uh huh, great plan.’

  Dave glanced at Fergus. ‘Don't know why you’re so glum, you don’t have much to lose’.

  ‘True, but if the allotments are lost Dave, you’ll still have friends and your life. It won't be so bad.’

  ‘What do you know? I built that place from the ground... Well, my great grandfather did… ‘

  ‘Don't bother Dave, I know. I read the book from the Dark Library.’

  ‘Ah. Force of habit you understand.’

  ‘How did it start? You know, before the allotments were built?’ asked Fergus.

  ‘Long story that.’

  Fergus nodded towards the empty corridor stretching away in front of them.

  ‘Alright then, but let me know if I start to get boring, hate people who yammer on and on about the inconsequentialities of their own passion.’

  ‘No worries on that old man.’

  Dave glanced at Fergus, but let it go.

  ‘I was a shepherd, like my father before me. We grazed sheep on the common. Mostly other people’s sheep, but some of them were ours. We built up quite a herd by the time I was your age. Things were getting better; then the common was acquired by the local gentry and us shepherds were forced to pay for grazing. We ended up working for nowt.

  That's when I decide to bring the sheep down here. Fearful place it was. Hard to get to and with a reputation for strange happenings. Not just the usual superstition you know, animals were killed, people too, but the grass was perfect for sheep and goats and I was a cocky young bugger. So I packed some provisions and took the herd down into the vale.

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘Nothing. Fattened the sheep and sold em at a good price. Got in some new lambs, even took the ram down there. I lived in the vale most of the time and kept my gob shut. Didn't want any competition. My old man would bring me food. I even built a shack.

  Then one night the lights came. I’d heard about the lights; always preceded a happening they did. A strange green glow that both you and I know. I checked the bindings on the sheep pens and threw more wood on the fire. I stood with my back against the shack and swapped my crook for a spear.

  Then they came, bold as brass, strolled right up to my campfire and lay down looking at me.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Dogs of course, two huge blue-black mutts with golden eyes. I never used dogs, too expensive. Here were two useful looking dogs for free. What's more I was glad to see them. I assumed they would be useful in any coming scrap. It never occurred to me they might be the cause of the problems. A bit thick, aye, but that was then.

  I approached slowly and sat with my spear across my knee. One of gave a gentle bark, so I fed them. Just some bread and cheese. The food disappeared and the dog barked again a little louder.

  Then one of them stood and walked right up to me. It looked me in the eye and murmured something. I shrugged. Its head was just level with mine and it was bloody intimidating. Then it barked and I fell over backwards. I got to my feet and raised my spear. The dog leapt up, took my spear then stepped backwards a ways and bit straight through the shaft.

  ‘So what did you do, leg it?’

  ‘I considered a hasty retreat, when it turned and walked off into the darkness. So I sat down again.

  It returned and dropped something that glinted in the firelight. When I picked it up, I was surprised how heavy it was. It took me a while to realise what it was, as I said, I wasn’t that bright back then and of course, you don’t often get see a half kilo bar of pure gold when you’re a shepherd.

  ‘Wow, so how much was it worth?’ asked Fergus.

  ‘About twenty grand today. Things were different then, it was an absolute fortune.’

  ‘So you were rich?’

  ‘Not so much. What could I do with it? Walk into a Jeweller’s and ask for cash? Some local gentry would claim it stolen and they would stretch my neck.

  First thing I did was slaughter a lamb and feed the dogs; to bind the agreement like. Then I buried the gold and spent some time thinking.’

  ‘Ah, so there was a cunning plan?’

  ‘Aye, it was that. I sold everything I had and bought some fancy clothes. Then armed with a fake letter of introduction from Baron Baltimore of Maryland, I strode into the biggest bank in Huddersfield, deposited the gold, and opened an account.’

  ‘Yeah right. Then you invented penicillin and became the first man to conquer Everest.’

  ‘Oh no lad, it took months of preparation. It took ages learning to sign my name. Then I had to learn an accent; chose Spanish, as there was a few of them living in Huddersfield. Jewish they were, kept themselves to themselves, but good folk and always willing to help for a fair return.’

  ‘So you swanned into Barclays with a fortune in gold and they just accepted you on face value?’

  ‘Greed lad, it covers a lot of cracks. They offered me a ruinous rate of interest and looked forward to selling my gold off cheap.

  I went about town and spent freely. Then I spoke to the Jewish family who helped me learn a bit of Spanish. They put me in touch with a Goldsmith who offered a fair price and the deal was done.

  I paid my debts, swapped my account to a small local bank, and hired a solicitor. Bought all this land hereabouts dead cheap. Weren’t no use to anyone. That was the start and once I was recognised as a man with money and land, it was easy.’


  ‘So that was the start of it all?’

  ‘Aye, in a way, but I didn’t really understand what was going on. I thought the dog had found it or something. I mean, they were obviously intelligent dogs, but they just wandered around and slept by the fire. I fed them of course, but never really considered they were anything other than well-trained dogs.

  ‘So what changed your mind?’

  ‘Old Greysnout.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘A few months after I got it all sorted out, we were building a house for me and the family next to the river. I lived in the shack and tended a small herd, and of an evening I would sit by the fire and think about things. Then the lights appeared again.

  The dogs barked and shot off into the darkness. I hid in the shack. Now I had money I was not keen on risking my neck.

  They returned with another dog. It was old, its snout grey, and it walked slowly. The other two dogs treated it with respect. So I slaughtered another lamb and cut up some good meat into small chunks. That seemed to go down well. The poor old bugger was shivering and it wasn’t that cold. So I fetched a few blankets and made a bed beside the fire.

  After a few days the old dog recovered and it spent its time hanging about watching me. It was always muttering and yapping and going on. Happens I got fed up of it and shouted at it to shut up.

  It looked at me, shook its head, and made this short yap. I shouted again and it did the same; shook its head and yapped. It was staring at me so intently, that I bothered to pay attention. I told it politely to be quiet and once more the headshake and little sharp yap.

  So I yapped back and it shook its head and repeated the yap. After five minutes of this, it nodded its head and gave a little yowl.

  Any road, I had learned my first dog words ‘yes’ and ‘no’. I kept at it for a few weeks learnt a few basics and tried it out on the younger dogs. They sniggered and rolled around. It was years until I learned what they were laughing about.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Old Greysnout taught me their puppy language.’

  ‘Did you ever learn proper Dog?’

  ‘I tried; it’s too bloody hard, all tone and duration. Here, you know the Dr Who theme tune?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘There’s a ‘Wooo ooo’ bit in it that’s really rude in Dog. They snigger every time they hear it.’

  ‘That’s really useful to know.’

  ‘Aye well, you could do worse than learn a bit of Dog. Here try this.’

  Dave muttered something and finished with a slight yowl.

  ‘Come on Dave give me something a little easier to start. What does it mean anyway?’

  ‘’Don’t teach me how to lick testicles’, useful phrase that with your dogs. Here try this one.’

  Dave yapped and sniggered. Fergus tried it and got close.

  ‘Not bad lad. It means ‘Stick your nose up your rectum’; another useful phrase.’

  ‘How about we start with ‘Yes’ and ‘No’?’

  Dave gave a little yowl and grinned.

  Together they walked on, yowling, yapping, and barking towards an unknown destination.

  ‘At last,’ said Dave.

  ‘What?’ asked Fergus.

  ‘A fly.’ Dave pointed up to a buzzing speck.

  ‘There’s no meat on it,’ said Fergus.

  ‘It means we’re near a cavern, back in the real catacombs.’

  ‘Does that mean we can find something to eat?’

  ‘Yes, if you’re not fussy. And cowboy up, it’s not like we’re starving.’

  The buzzing spec became a small swarm and a warm moist smell replaced the dry, dustiness of the corridor. They rounded a slight curve and in the distance an indistinct, green mass blocked the corridor.

  ‘It looks like the Fabulous Garden,’ said Dave. ‘Only this corridor isn’t the one described by Coleridge. I reckon it’s a different entrance, which means we can get back on the map. All we have to do is get across this cavern.’

  ‘How big is it?’

  ‘Oh less than a mile. Only, Coleridge does mention it’s a bit dangerous, so we may want to go carefully, make a few preparations and the like.’

  ‘Without the upbeat understatement, please tell me exactly how dangerous?’

  ‘They lost a dog.’

  Fergus was quiet for a moment.

  ‘Do we have any options?’

  ‘I can’t think of any,’ said Dave.

  ‘Ok, what are these preparations then?’

  ‘Good man,’ said Dave and slapped Fergus on the back. ‘Now you’re getting it. First we need some flexible branches for the snowshoes.’

  ‘What?’

  The cavern steamed. The vast lights above were just brighter patches in the mist. It was as if someone left the lights on in the world’s largest sauna.

  ‘Don't worry lad, they say it's good for the pores.

  ‘Wasn't good for the paws of that dog.

  ‘Give over. We have these here snowshoes; the Earth Clams won't get us. We'll be fine. Come on, we head North-West.

  Sweat dripped down Fergus's face and insects crawled over every exposed bit of skin. He trudged behind Dave, waving ineffectually at the cloud of buzzing pests around him.

  ‘This is where we need to be careful. That's the Tree. It protects itself. Tread carefully and touch nowt.

  They walked on, giving the Tree a wide birth. It looked like a huge mangrove, its branches bending down to the ground and disappearing into the mist. There were groans and the Tree swayed, despite the lack of wind. Branches moved, twisted, and hunched up as if someone was pulling on their ends.

  Dave looked back at Fergus and grimaced. ‘This is not going well. Something is disturbing it. We'd best get further away.

  The ground below Dave opened suddenly showing a bright pink hole fringed with earth. His wide snowshoes kept his foot from falling into the hole.

  ‘Bugger, Earth Clam, keep moving lad.

  With careful, exaggerated steps they skirted round the Tree. The air was thick with moisture and insects. It was like breathing fly soup. The Tree was lost in the mist and the ground started to slope upwards.

  Something snuffled behind them.

  ‘What was that? Some sort of animal?’ asked Fergus.

  ‘There are no animals in here bar us lad. The Tree or the clams get them.’

  Through the mist something loomed, it was about nine foot tall and horned.

  ‘I CAN SMELL YOU.’ yelled Azimuth.

  Dave and Fergus started to run. It is hard to run in snowshoes. They got about twelve feet before they hit loam. Face first.

  ‘Oh bugger,’ said Dave.

  Azimuth continued to loom. He stepped out of the mist, roared and stopped. His foot had sunk two foot into the waiting maw of an Earth Clam.

  ‘Come on lad, leg it.’ yelled Dave.

  Despite the snowshoes, they managed a good twenty feet before thumping into the ground again.

  With a huge heave Azimuth lifted the Earth Clam out of the ground and stepped forward. He broke into a faltering jog, Dave and Fergus scrabbled to their feet and lurched off again.

  It was a pathetic race, with Dave and Fergus running and falling, and then Azimuth, with a clam stuck on his foot like a huge boot, steadily gaining ground.

  Dave was breathing heavily and Fergus seemed dazed after hitting his head on the last lurch. Azimuth was almost upon them. A huge branch rose up like a cobra and wrapped itself around his chest. Dave and Fergus scrambled away on hands and knees.

  ‘Come on, let’s get going while we have the chance,’ said Dave and stomped off, legs wide apart, like a man with ferret filled trousers. The ground sloped down and Dave started to pick up momentum. Then they hit the steep bit. Fergus lasted a few yards, before he tripped and tobogganed the rest of the way, snowploughing the mud with his face. Dave made a concerted effort, picked his feet up and shot down the increasing sl
ope like a frenetic clown.

  Each in his fashion careered down the side of the steep ravine. Dave eventually overtook Fergus, as his snowshoes started to slide, and he skied the last few hundred feet.

  Dave helped Fergus to his feet. He was shaken, but not cocktailed. Once he pulled the mud out of his mouth, swilled and washed his face, Fergus was nominal.

  ‘He’s not going to be stuck there forever Dave. We need to go,’ said Fergus and coughed up some mud.

  ‘I know lad, but I’m torn between carrying on though this vegetable hell, chased by a raging nine foot demon, who wants to eat us or worse, or nip down this hidden side tunnel that I just discovered by sheer accident and get out of this nightmare.’

  Fergus looked at Dave.

  ‘What? Come on let’s get out of here.’

  ‘No lad. Stop. Read the signs.’

  All around the tunnel entrance were signs with strange writing.

  ‘I can’t read any of them. What do they say?’

  ‘Here,’ said Dave and picked up a fallen sign from the ground. ‘This one’s in an Earth language, fortunately it’s English.’

  NO ACCESS

  NON-ADHERENTS KILLED ON SIGHT

  ‘It’s just a sign. This place has been abandoned for millennia.’

  ‘It’s the phrasing lad, it’s familiar, and that big one up there, that’s in Dog. Proper Dog mind, not the puppy language I understand. I’ve seen it somewhere before.’

  ‘Come on Dave. We’re fighting to stay alive here and being chased by a homicidal off-world visitor to boot. What can be worse?’

  ‘There’s difference between possible death and probable death. Here, we may get caught, or not. If we get caught, we may be killed. In there we die.’

  Azimuth appeared at the top of the gorge, his head was bleeding and one hand was clutching his chest, in his other he carried a huge tree branch.

  ‘NOW YOU PAY.’

  ‘Then again,’ said Dave, ‘There is the manner of death, quick and clinical or interesting.’

  ‘Sorry?’ asked Fergus.

  ‘Well, for instance, finding out exactly how much skin there is on a human body.’

  Dave sighed, grabbed Fergus by the shoulder, and ran into the tunnel.

  Light from the entrance was long gone. Dave and Fergus groped their way forward, listening for noises, especially from behind.

  ‘I don’t think he’s following.’ whispered Fergus, ‘I can’t decide if that’s good or bad.’