‘Where’s his reserve stock Rosie? Go on, be a sport, tell your friend Eric where he keeps it. I can’t help you so I may as well relax. After all it’d be safer that way, I’m sure and you know I’m right, cos you’re a smart girl.’
Rosie wasn’t about to argue with young Eric, after all he did show signs there of discernment. She was very smart. Furthermore he had proven to be useless when asked to perform a simple task like press the correct switch. It was because of his momentary lapse of sanity and subsequent awareness that they found themselves spinning out of control somewhere between reality, figuratively speaking and reality. There were so many flashing across their eyes / headlights. He had been asked to press the blue switch on Rosie’s signal but pressed the green one instead. He’d forgotten to say that he was actually colour blind. They spun completely out of control for what seemed an age but in terms of time and space travel what does any of that time stuff mean anyway? Eventually Rosie gained control again and landed where they found themselves now, which was about two feet from the water’s edge. Where this water was they didn’t know immediately, at least they didn’t get wet. Rosie set her scanner runner, scanning for landmarks or anything that would give them a clue as to their position. It became clear after two sweeps that they were in fact at the bottom of the cliff face, at the top of which they were originally positioned before Eric's little ‘Oops’ moment. Rosie’s next thought was on the lines of hoping her Skipper wasn’t too worried that she wasn't where he expected her to be. Eric’s next thought was, ‘Ah, here it is.’ Within seconds he was sitting on the deck fully involved in the kind of research that Elvis and his family line were famous for.
Elvis and George were now faced with entering the cottage to investigate and they decided that they would split up, he would enter by the front door and she, the back door. So it was. Elvis burst into the room only to be confronted by the most unexpected sight of all. There, in a rocking chair, sat his Chief of Intelligence.
‘Chief, what are you doing here?’ Exclaimed a stunned Elvis. What happened next all took place in mere seconds. George burst into the room, fired three shots, hitting Chief in the head. At the same time she hurled herself at Elvis catching him amidships with the sort of tackle any self-respecting prop forward would have been proud of, carrying them both back out of the still open door. They hit the ground at the precise moment all around them erupted in an explosion, the cottage disappeared in a ball of bright orange and yellow flame.
The two of them lay there on the scorched ground, dazed, covered in light debris, trying to get their heads straight. Elvis was the first to recover, he stared at George who was lying just to his left. Could he believe what he had just seen? He was in a state of confusion when George came round, shaking her head as if to clear it. She looked at him and saw that he was looking at her in a disturbing way. Time she explained, she thought.
‘What do you think you saw back there, tell me before you do anything both of us would regret?’
He came out of his momentary stupor and sat up straight. ‘I did see you shoot Chief three times in the head, I did, right there before my very eyes.?’
‘Elvis, listen to me carefully now. You saw Chief upon entering the cottage, am I right?’
‘You know bloody well I did!’ He was more than a little agitated now.
‘Okay,’ said George, in a steady level tone. ‘Explain then why it was that all I saw was a huge Lupine figure to which you were talking and which I saw as a definite threat but which you clearly didn’t. It was a trap, Elvis, a trap and it almost worked because you were mesmerised into seeing what you wanted to see.’
Elvis sat in stunned silence. If what she said was true, he was clearly losing it, he’d been taken in by a cheap illusionary trick.
‘Humph! A bloody wolf in Chief’s clothing.’
Just then Dog returned, between his teeth, the red blood stained hooded cloak last seen worn by a child on the run. This sight was just about enough for Elvis, he nearly exploded into an indignant rant, after all, he hadn’t had one for some time now. Dog looked up at him then George and back at him before turning to George.
‘Grrrufferruff!’ If a dog could sound smug, Dog did.
Elvis addressed George while keeping his eyes firmly on Dog and said, ‘Well?’
‘As you may have guessed, the child wasn’t a child but - - - ’
‘Don’t tell me, a fashion conscious wolf with a fetish for childrens’ clothing’
‘It was a wolf, you’re right on that one.’
‘Pinch me someone, no, never mind’ he said, never taking his eyes of Dog. ‘We’d better get moving, we can’t stay here, we need to see where this all is leading to, ‘which would be a change,’ he said under his breath. They travelled through thick forest for all of two hours before Dog stopped and turned around and sniffed the air. He emitted a low growl and stood in the classic pointer pose, body in a dead straight line , head to tip of tail, hackles raised.
‘We’re being followed,’ said George.
‘What this time?’’, mused Elvis, ‘Wolves in chorus line formation’
The sound of the followers stopped as they did. Not a sound was heard. Everything was still, no bird song, rustling leaves, moles scratching, nothing. They stood stock still for a full five minutes then moved off again, nothing had appeared and if they or it was following them it was playing a cat and mouse game. Elvis, George and Dog decided to continue on but constantly be prepared for anything. They reached a spot just short of the edge of the forest and they could hear the sea if not actually see it, in fact they all could smell it, they were that close. Tentatively they inched their way to the very edge of the forest and peered out through some bushes whereupon their eyes were met by a beautiful panorama of blue sky, and matching sea and between them and the wet stuff there was a vast expanse of pristine white sand. They were still on high alert for this was far too an idyllic picture before them. That sand was far too white and the sea was like a mill pond, no movement at all and the sky, well that was far too perfect, the whole picture was far too perfect, both George and Elvis agreed on this and so too, it seemed, did Dog who just sat looking it, no attempt to race onto the sand and have a frolic in the sea, though Elvis was not sure Dog did such mundane doggy things. Indeed, right now he was just staring at the scene in front of him, sniffing with one significance, noted Elvis. Dog did not have his ball in his mouth. That was not a good sign. It was then that they noticed a small red shape off to their right, they inched forward, staying as close to the undergrowth as possible so as not to expose themselves, though quite why they couldn't say. There was no sign of any danger, everything was just perfect.
‘It’s Rosie!’ Exclaimed an uncharacteristically excited Elvis, great relief evident in his voice. Before the others could intervene he was off and running towards his creation.
‘Oh dear, Dog,’ whispered George, ‘that’s true stealth right there. Geesh. Come on Dog, but keep sharp.’
‘Grrr!’
‘Sorry,’ said George, ‘no need to tell you, is there?’ With this the two took off after Elvis, eventually catching him up just as he reached a surprisingly silent Rosie.
‘Rosie! Rosie!’ shouted an elated Elvis.
‘Ah, there you are, you finally found us, before the tide came in and wet me tyres. Though it’s a funny thing, I’ve been monitoring the tide but there is no evidence of any movement?’
Elvis was so glad to see Rosie again that he didn’t pick up the significance of what she had just reported, not until George said.
‘She’s right, you know, there's absolutely no movement in that water at all, if that’s what it is.’
Elvis looked around him and not for the first time noted to himself how too perfect everything was, it was all unnatural, all wrong and there was no breeze whatsoever, the air was completely still. There was almost a heaviness to it, almost oppressive? That was it, it was oppressive and also so familiar. It was at that point they came, streaming out of the forest, hordes of howling chorus girls all brandishing firearms of varying kinds, all very heavily armed, far more fire power thought Elvis to himself than any chorus girls he'd ever seen. Then he refocused his eyes and realised that they were wolves! He was almost tricked again. Almost as soon as he realised what they were, another site caught their attention. Coming out of the forest, between the oncoming wolves and themselves, they saw what was the oddest sight they had seen all day. Coming at speed and kicking up sand like a storm came a circa 1942 WW11 amphibian, nicknamed a Duck because it’s designated title was DUKW, well, that’s the military for you. As it came out and across their path rapid fire was heard emanating from it followed instantly by clouds of gun smoke, Row after row of baying wolves fell to its firepower, mown down in their tracks. The vehicle came to a shuddering halt amid clouds of swirling sand and a figure emerged beckoning them to climb aboard as there wasn’t much time. Nobody needed a second invitation, all clambered onto and then onto this weird looking machine, the hatch was shut tight and in seconds they were off and into the sea.
Nobody spoke for many minutes as the strange craft sank further and further down toward the sea bed. Once there the craft proceeded to go forward along the seabed with great ease. Elvis, George and Dog were just sitting there, open mouthed, breathing heavy from their close encounter with very angry looking wolves.
‘Ah, that’s better,’ said the figure who was still in the shadow of the driving position, a separate compartment to where they were sitting. ‘Nasty little buggers they are, had a couple of run-ins with them before, sly, cunning and masters of disguise. But let me introduce myself, I am Captain Nemo Kwerk and welcome aboard THE NAWTIBWS, so sorry, translation The Nautibus, you must excuse the Welshness of the name, it’s a long boring story so we won’t go there for now thank you, maybe later. And you can drop the Nemo bit as well, just call me Mo and everyone’s happy. Okay, to whom am I addressing myself?’
Everyone just sat staring at the figure in front of them, His face virtually hidden by a full RN face set, his clothes were pseudo RN - ish. He had a military air about him but by no means appearance as he was really quite scruffy. He looked like he’s been at sea for a very long time. On his feet were a pair of well-worn sea boots, topped by the turn-over of thick seaman’s socks.
‘I can see you’re a bit shaken up, after all it was a near thing back there but no damage done, eh?’ This was enough to bring them back to the present and their immediate environment.
‘Thanks, Capt. Nemo, er, Mo. It sure was a close thing and you certainly came at a good time.’ George was the first of the rescued to speak. Then Elvis quickly regained his sense of the present even if he wasn’t sure what present it was.
‘Quite so, very close indeed. My name is Kwerk, Elvis P. Kwerk and this is George, oh and Dog. We are most grateful for your timely intervention.’ It was then he realised they were one short. ‘Eric!, he isn’t here, where the hell is he? Not only that, Rosie!, we’ve lost ‘em both again.’ He began to display signs of agitation, so unlike him, thought George. Dog was happy chewing his ball.
The attacking wolves were regrouping when Rosie instructed a terrified Eric to press the green button, the one below the purple one labelled 4.2. Eric, shaken out of his moment of frozen fright, made a dive for the control console and started pressing buttons like a whirling dervish, arms flying left, right and everywhere.
‘The GREEN button, Eric, just the GREEN one!’
‘ZOOM-FIZZ-POP!’
