Dave Trellis and the Allotments of Doom

by S.B. Davies

  They strained to hear any faint response. The jungle buzzed around them, the hole was silent.

  ‘What we gonna do now’ asked Toomey.

  Trev sighed, ‘Can’t leave the old fool. Come on pull down some of these creepers. You never know the old bugger may have been right, there might be water down there.’

  Chapter Sixteen

  I tend towards the ‘lump it’ option.

  Dave Trellis

  One Life, One Woman, One Shed

  Dave knew he was in free fall; he was accustomed to the sensation. Apart from that he knew nothing; it was utterly dark. He adopted the classic skydiver stance more as a nod to good form than any particular plan and started counting seconds; He didn’t get very far.

  With a slap that could fell a champion sumo wrestler Dave hit water. After a moments panic, Dave resisted the urge to swim in any particular direction and relaxed. He bobbed to the surface almost immediately and floated upright. Heavy water again thought Dave and regretted his lack of suitable equipment for a cup of tea. Now, get a grip Trellis, it’s utterly dark, you are an unknown distance beneath the jungle floor and have no way of knowing which way to shore, without care you could swim in circles until you starve. Or until some hideous mutated Aussie fauna strikes from below and rips off a favourite part in a frenzy of churning, bloody water. How big do crocs grow? They have two sorts don’t they, saltwater and fresh? Which is the bugger that leaves humans alone? Of course Radium!

  Dave reached into his jacket and pulled out his ancient prism compass. He popped the lid and looked at the lovely green glowing needle and cardinal points of the compass. For the first time he could see his hands.

  ‘Ha, grand, or should I say you little beaut?’

  The luminous needle swung around and settled. Dave relaxed onto his back and started a steady leg kick. The needle suddenly swung around and settled in a new direction. Dave shook it. The needle swung again and decided North lay in yet another direction.

  Bugger thought Dave, must be stray magnetic fields, either that or I am directly over one of the poles, which is a possibility. Still at least I can see a tiny bit. Shame about the logistics, I could really do with a cup of Darjeeling. He settled for mouthfuls of cool water, which he had to admit hinted at the swamp with a light metallic aftertaste.

  His eyes adjusted to the dark and he could see a small, bright dot high up in the sky, like candle in a distant window. Wonder what those stubborn Aussie buggers are up to? No doubt left me to rot, more fool them I’ve enough water to last me for –

  Something large and possibly scaly swirled the water and Dave rotated slowly, his eyes trying to see everywhere at once. Harris Tweed is a natural shark repellent, never thought I’d be glad about that thought Dave. How did it find me? Movement? Ah! It’s so very dark in here…

  Dave shut the compass and floated motionlessly. The dark invaded his personal space, until he felt it was actually inside his eyelids. Then blotches of fake colours started to float around and his ears seemed to ring slightly in the silence.

  ‘Soooooeeeee.’

  The faint yell was easy to notice in the absolute silence. Dave put his fingers to his lips and whistled as hard as he could. The noise was massive in the absolute quite, but didn’t echo. He hoped it wouldn’t attract any watery beastie’s attention.

  ‘Soooooeeeee. Soooooeeeee.’

  Dave whistled twice this time, just as long and hard as he could. Something splashed noisily to one side and the light above disappeared. For a moment Dave worried that they had sealed up the hole, after making sure he was down there. Then it reappeared and more detritus showered all around Dave. As the large creature didn’t return, he assumed splashes or movement did not attract it.

  In a while Dave started to hear a faint voice.

  ‘More bloody rope… I don’t care, just pull down some more creepers… Look, you want to me come back up there and kick your arse?’

  There was more shouting, it was getting closer.

  Suddenly Dave was lit from above by torch beam.

  ‘Turn out that light!’ yelled Dave.

  ‘What?’ shouted Trev.

  ‘Turn off the torch now!’

  ‘How am I meant to rescue you in the bloody dark?’

  ‘Turn off the torch or you’ll have nothing to rescue.’

  ‘What are - Strewth, did you see the size of that? I knew we grew em big in Oz, but that’s ridiculous.’

  ‘And it’s attracted to light. Hence my polite request to turn off the bloody torch.’

  ‘Right you are,’ said Trev in the sudden blackness.

  ‘Drop another sixty feet and I’ll swim towards you.’ yelled Dave whose throat was hurting from all the shouting. Making as few ripples as possible, he sculled closer to the expected point of Trev’s arrival.

  ‘Marco?’ said Trev, some way off to Dave’s left.

  ‘What?’ said Dave.

  ‘I say Marco, you reply Polo. That way we can find each other in the dark.’

  ‘How about you blather on as usual and I’ll find you that way?’

  ‘Marco,’ said Trev.

  ‘Bollocks,’ said Dave.

  After a little while Dave heard something slap the water, then a lot of splashing.

  ‘Can’t you hang there quietly?’ asked Dave.

  ‘Got to let Toomey and Hungry know when to stop dun I.’

  ‘I suppose a signal rope would’ve been out of the question?’

  ‘I’m not hanging here with my nuts in a clench for jollies. Keep your pommie bastard ideas to yourself.’

  ‘Fine… Ow!’

  ‘What now?’

  ‘I found you, or rather your boot.’

  ‘Come on then, grab hold,’ said Trev.

  ‘Hang on I have a better idea.’ Dave sculled backwards and unwound several feet of the rope around his waist. ‘I have some rope, tie it to the creeper and it’ll take the weight off you when they pull us up.’

  ‘Good idea… For once.’

  Trev tied the rope to the knotted creeper harness that clenched him just a little too tightly.

  ‘Are you sure they can lift us both?’ asked Dave.

  ‘No worries mate.’

  ‘This creeper is a bit on the thin side you know.’

  ‘Well stay down here then,’ said Trev.

  ‘I just don't understand why you didn't bring a second creeper, get yourself back and then the three of you could pull me up.’

  ‘Why muck about; she'll be fine,’ said Trev.

  Trev started bouncing up and down. The signal worked and he started rising; the rope grew taught, slinging off drips of water that dropped on Dave. In his imagination Dave felt like a battered, old Yorkshire Venus, as he ascended out of the water.

  His feet barely cleared the surface before there was a creaking noise and a sudden lurch.

  ‘Ah,’ said Trev. The creeper gave way and they dropped back into the water with a splosh. Trev's hi-tech walking boots caught Dave a good ‘un on the bonce, as they collapsed in a submerged, heap of confused limbs. Dave grabbed hold of Trev and stopped him swimming; in the complete darkness it was easy to get confused and swim down rather than up. Untangled on the surface, Dave breathed heavily, and then passed the other end of the rope to Trev.

  ‘Here, tie this around you and then we won’t get separated.

  After some splashing there was silence. Dave resisted temptation, but not for long, in a mock Aussie whine he said.

  ‘No worries mate. She'll be fine.’

  ‘No need to thank me it was no bother at all,’ said Trev

  ‘You do realise that we are now thoroughly screwed,’ said Dave.

  ‘How'd you figure?’ asked Trev.

  ‘We'll one bloke can lower another, but he'll not be able to pull him back up all that way.

  So we’re stuck.’

  ‘They'll think of something,’ said Trev ‘By the way, you know
what’s in here with us?’

  ‘No idea, but the wave it made was huge.’

  ‘Catfish.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Yeah, saw it before I put out the light, some form of giant catfish, had barbels like cricket stumps, must be 20 foot long.’

  ‘Well that's a relief; I thought it was a croc.’

  ‘Not saying there isn't a croc in here, but they eat catfish, so not likely. However Catfish are carnivores and one that size could swallow you whole.’

  Something twinkled up above and it wasn't the first star of evening. It lurched downwards illuminating Dave and Trev like a follow spot at a cheap theatre.

  ‘Oh bugger! Swim!’ said Dave and they tried to move away from the light. The torch swung gently lighting up the whole area; soon it was close to the surface.

  ‘You get it Pom, you’re the rescuee,’ said Trev.

  ‘I’d rather stay down here, than risk getting swallowed alive,’ said Dave.

  ‘Come on, hurry up. It’ll bring the catfish back. We need to grab the creeper and turn off the light. See I told you they’d think of something.’

  ‘Something that could get us killed. Smooth move chaps.’

  ‘Stop whining and get in there.’

  ‘Oh alright,’ said Dave and started a cautious breaststroke towards the light. A powerful surge swirled the water as something swept by Dave and Trev.

  ‘Get moving.’ yelled Dave as he back-paddled desperately.

  There was a huge explosion of water and a grey object like a leathery Polaris missile shot out of the water and swallowed the light. With an immense splash the giant catfish crashed down on Dave and Trev driving them deep in the water. By the time Dave surfaced the splashing had subsided, replace by a twin descending screams, each with its own timbre; together they sounded Australian.

  There were two loud splashes followed by a rain of rocks and earth splattering onto the surface.

  ‘Oh what fresh hell is this? It’s raining bloody Australians,’ said Dave.

  ‘Well, I finally have to agree with you Pom, now we truly are fucked,’ said Trev.

  ‘Nah she be right,’ said Dave in an Aussie twang, ‘We got water and I reckon we can find some way land one of those big fellas. We can have a barbi mate.’

  ‘Marco?’ said a damp voice from the darkness. Dave sighed.

  With bad grace, Dave organised a roped together procession heading for the wall by swimming directly away from the little spot of light that was their entry into this wet world of darkness and giant catfish.

  ‘You did say ‘whatever happens don’t let go of the bloody rope’’ said Toomey.

  ‘I said I don’t want to talk about it right?’ said Trev.

  ‘We’re stuck down here forever in the cold and wet and dark,’ said Hungry Joe.

  ‘Right,’ said Dave, ‘Before we were stuck forever in a place with no food and no water. Now we are stuck in a place with food and water. Dark, I’ll concede, but the lack of light never killed anyone, and finally it ain’t cold. You accuse me of whining, bloody hypocrites.’

  ‘The Pom’s right…’ A large bow wave pushed them sideways. ‘Any chance we could swim a little faster?’ asked Trev.

 

  Fergus sat cross-legged with his back against the cliff, in the last slice of shadow. Boadicea and Abbey snoozed in the full shade of the overhang that protected the small pool from evaporation in the fierce Australian sun. The Noggin wandered with arcane purpose sniffing everything.

  It was Abbey’s idea to rest up until the sun went down and Fergus agreed it was sensible. They had drunk steadily from the pool, re-hydrating after their trek in the hot sun and resisting the temptation to dive into the cool water. Boadicea showed the Dreamtime book to the Noggin and explained using notes why she thought it might help. The Noggin read the book, at a page a second and then read it back to front at the same speed, shaking its head and sniffing at regular intervals. It seemed interested in one legendary tale and pointed it out to each of them in turn. Fergus read the tale of Namarrgon, the lightening god, but couldn’t see any relevance to their search for a way into the Workshops.

  Abbey stirred and stretched.

  ‘Not long now,’ she said pointing to the sun that was well on it was towards the horizon.

  ‘You think we’ll find a way in?’ said Fergus.

  ‘Oh yeah. Mum found an entrance, so there must be one and we have a Noggin on our side.’

  ‘Do you think we’ll find a way out too?’

  ‘Of course. Mind you getting home is going to cost a packet.’

  ‘You seem confident. Engineer implied that where he sent Dave was fatal, and you think it’s here. Why do you think whatever is so lethal to a warrior like Dave Trellis, won’t affect you?’

  ‘Worried?’ asked Abbey.

  ‘Just cautious,’ said Fergus, ‘I don’t think this is going to be so straightforward. I expect difficulties.’

  ‘We shall overcome them; after all we have two warriors, a highly intelligent woman, and a vastly experienced off-world visitor on our team.’

  ‘Yea for us.’

  ‘You hungry?’

  ‘Ravenous.’

  ‘I know something that could take you mind off it,’ said Abbey with a certain look.

  Fergus shuffled uncomfortably and glanced at Boadicea.

  ‘Still pining for your cousin?’

  ‘Yes damn it all, I am. I can’t help it. And you’re not helping either.’

  ‘What have I done now?’

  ‘Apart from being drop dead gorgeous, witty and intelligent, you bear quite a resemblance. The fact that you are ‘in play’ so to speak and Boadicea isn’t, just makes it worse.’

  ‘Sorry,’ said Abbey, ‘Just trying to help; you’re not so bad yourself.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Fergus, ‘I’m sure it’ll work out. But let’s get this all sorted first.’

  ‘Sure. And I think I can help. I saw a documentary on bush tucker, apparently there’s loads to eat out here if you know where to look. Come on I’ll show you.’

  In the diminishing light of dusk, Boadicea, Abbey, and Fergus sat it a circle near the pond. The Noggin sat humming on a rock nearby watching the sun go down. It occasionally clapped its hands and nodded.

  ‘Are you sure?’ said Fergus.

  ‘Absolutely,’ said Abbey.

  ‘Well off you go then.’

  Abbey looked at the little pile of roots and plump, squirming Wichetty grubs. She picked up something that looked like a brown, dried out carrot, took a bite, and immediately spat it out.

  ‘Yueech, that’s acrid.’

  Boadicea sighed.

  ‘There is only one source of nutrition in that lot,’ she reached down and picked up a large white, caterpillar like grub, held it up by one end and dropped into her mouth.

  ‘Not bad,’ said Boadicea between chews, ‘A bit like scrambled eggs, with a hint of chicken.’

  Fergus’s admiration for Boadicea took a leap and he faced up to the implicit challenge. He picked up the smallest of the grubs, popped into his mouth and took a bite. It was sour and tasted of mould. Fergus felt his stomach heave and he turned to one side to wretch.

  ‘Not that one love,’ said Boadicea, ‘I’m pretty sure it’s dead. Just eat the live ones.’

  Fergus spat out the grub and tried to wipe his tongue with his finger. Even though this was his worst ever dining experience, he heard Boadicea call him ‘love’ and even if it was just a Yorkshire phrase, casually acquired, it made him feel just marvellous. He stood up and went to the pond to swill out his mouth and get rid of the awful taste.

  ‘Wow, that is one experience I won’t forget,’ said Fergus as he returned grinning, ‘you won’t mind if I skip straight to the dessert?’

  ‘Skip through the desert by all means,’ said Abbey, ‘We have enough of it.’

  ‘Nah, I really mean it; dessert. Boadicea put your hand in my rig
ht hand jeans pocket,’ said Fergus.

  ‘It’s sewn shut,’ said Boadicea.

  ‘Come here,’ said Fergus, Boadicea stood and walked towards him. He pulled her close, undid the top button of her jeans, and eased the zip halfway down. Boadicea gave him a quizzical look, but did not object. Fergus reached inside, grabbed something, and pulled hard. There was a ripping sound and Fergus held the jeans pocket in his hand. He held it up.

  ‘Something I picked up from Dave. Kendal Mint Cake,’ said Fergus and like a magician produced the famed white and red packet from the ripped pocket.

  ‘You little beaut,’ said Boadicea and hugged Fergus then turned her face up and kissed him. After a few moments Abbey coughed.

  ‘Are you going to share that, or are you too distracted by snogging your cousin?’

  ‘Damn it all,’ said Fergus, ‘I hate it when you’re right.’ He and Boadicea shuffled apart; they both looked a little guilty.

  The Kendal Mint Cake was divine and took away the awful taste of Wichetty grub in Fergus’s mouth. The Noggin, after a few careful sniffs, refused the mint cake, but polished off all the bush tucker with apparent relish.

  ‘Time to get going?’ asked Abbey.

  Fergus nodded and took the leather dungarees down to the pond to fill them. Soon they were walking along behind the sniffing Noggin, Fergus sloshing along with the dungarees tied around his neck, on their way to a destination famed for lightning strikes.

  Perhaps there was a landing platform all the way around, or perhaps it was sheer luck, for whatever reason, when Dave heard the gentle lapping of waves against a solid surface, it wasn’t a sheer wall, but a low ledge that they climbed easily. Once on solid ground, Dave took off his sodden Harris Tweed jacket and poured the water out of his Brogues.

  Suddenly Dave was blinded by light; after so long in the dark, the torch was dazzling. All around them were wooden packing crates and obscure machinery on pallets.

  ‘Right let’s get cracking. Someone build a fire, I’m going fishing.’

  ‘Who died and made you the boss?’ asked Trev.

  Dave looked Trev up and down.

  ‘Suit yourself, but unless you want sashimi, I suggest you build a fire,’ said Dave and stomped off back to the water’s edge.

  Half an hour later, Dave returned dragging a three-foot long headless, gutted catfish by the tail. The Aussies crouched in a circle around the torch.

  ‘No luck?’ asked Dave.

  ‘Don’t ask,’ said Trev.