His gleaming ebony eyes looked straight ahead not wavering for one second from their quarry but staring intensely as if waiting for the slightest movement from the subject in focus. He was ready, every sinew taut yet supple enough to respond at the slightest signal, there was nowhere for the prey to go, no way out. It was totally trapped and at the stalker’s mercy if there was any but in this case there was not an ounce… ‘STOP RIGHT THERE. YOU CAN’T SAY THAT. WE’RE METRIC!’
Bugger! I’ll never get used to this foreign stuff. Takes a deep breath and resumes…
He was ready to pounce (what’s that in metric then eh?) his muscles straining screaming for action, he’d watched his target for long enough it was time to go and in one swift move he was on it in a second (that alright? That’s not been metricised has it.) Just as he was upon his quarry a voice rang out, a voice he was familiar with, a voice he was destined to respond to at any time, his Mistress was calling. ‘Dog, come boy, din-dins,’ With this the black Labrador Cross, crossed with no one knows but the encounter produced a real beast, dropped the remains of the once solid rubber ball he’d been toying with and turned slowly and purposely moving with the grace of a panther headed for the grotto entrance and his meal. ‘Bout time,’ he thought, ‘it’s hard work hunting.’
Inside the grotto George, a young female figure, tall, athletic in appearance and wearing a body hugging leotard and highly polished military boots stood hands akimbo watching Dog enter, settle down to his meal, both feeling satisfied with a job well done. George and her faithful companion had recently returned from an adventure involving forces beyond the normal world by way of a military academy reunion at which much beverage was devoured, always leading to trodden on fingers upon leaving the venue. Prior to this George and Dog had been engaged upon quite the most extraordinary adventure involving the unlikely events of travelling through time and space, well you know the rest. Their reality had undergone a very unsettling period which they would not forget in a hurry. It played havoc with Dog’s glossy coat getting dust and stuff all over it he was not happy and has not stopped grumbling since. Even now he had to walk very carefully so as to not make too much noise as his mistress was also feeling a little delicate. It had been one hell of a heavy night and everyone would have to tread carefully if they wanted to survive according to Dog’s usually very well informed and wise reading of the situation. Even he knew better than to cross over to the wrong side of George’s path. He may be a beast but he’s not an idiot. Everything was going smoothly by this time a sort of normality had returned and everyone was finding their place in the general picture of communal ennui. This relatively peaceful scene was soon to be shattered by the main theme music from the old movie Star Wars blasting out from George’s cell phone. Immediately she sprang into action diving further under the covers of the duvet in an attempt to drown out the noise but to no avail, this was not going to work and so she would have to answer the damn thing.
‘WHAT?’ she said, irritated by this intrusion.
Elsewhere the day had started in its usual ordinary dull way for Master Chef, as he would like to be called, Eric Phineas. Kwerk, though with one major difference, the birds were not coughing outside his window. All was silent, eerily silent and this had an unnerving effect on Eric who was never really wide awake of a morning or at any time for that matter but this morning he found himself alarmingly awake, what had awaken him what could have awakened him if it wasn’t the usual bird sound he’d got used to outside his kitchen window, he was a dedicated chef was Eric always on top of the job even to the point of sleeping there in his workplace. He cautiously opened one eye, very slowly after all he didn’t want to risk retina damage so early in the day assuming as he did that it was early for he’d never any idea, which was his downfall as a Lighthouse Keeping, that and a few other things like being unable to sleep with a light on, his solution proved to be disastrous so he was relieved of the position and became a cook in the Army, the army concerned wishes not to be identified and will take legal action if it is. Suffice to say that Eric P. Kwerk was eventually removed from the position of army cook due to some irregularities concerning supplies and a certain undesirable record of being the only cook with a record for fatalities, or perhaps we should say accidents. Anyway, this day was going to be one he would never forget, a day like no other and one which would be remembered by a great many others. He slowly got out of his sleeping bag and crept to the window for a look-see. All was still, nothing to be seen that was unusual save for the four mile wide trench that obliterated his vegetable plot and the entire base camp, all was gone, not one sprout or carrot or cauliflower to be seen, no huts, nothing, desolate. Mind, to be fair, it was a very neat trench he thought, having a mind for detail like his relatives before him who were all sharp witted, or so the story goes.
Clearly there was something not quite right here and he’d better investigate but as he was not known for being particularly adventurous he decided to give a friend of his a call and maybe she would be better equipped for an investigation for she had a reputation for such, a reputation which equalled those of Holmes, Cagney and Lacey, Marple and Poirot and many more like builders and estate agencies. He needed to speak to George and for this he needed his cell phone (ok UK Mobile) Now where the hell was it, when did he use it last and where was he at the time. He wasn’t used to so many questions first thing in the morning. He remembered hearing it drop just before he did last night, that was it, he’d been doing some vital research for new recipes and had just opened another bottle when he noticed that the lights were slowly dimming along with his eyesight and other senses, then thump he was down and so too his phone therefore it should be pretty close by, by gum his mind was fair racing now. He crawled back to where he’d been laying earlier and from there his eyes began to survey the area closely until he spotted something gleaming by the stove. He thought how nice it looked as the morning sun cast a colourful rainbow through the glass of the last bottle of the night. Then he saw what he was looking for lying there all nice and snug and safe under Attila the resident kitchen mouser. This was going to be a bit tricky, he thought, remembering the last time he tried to move Attila before Attila was ready to be moved, he still had the scars to remind him. It was a full minute before he found the bandage and then was able to pick up the phone with his good hand. On the other end he heard the voice of his good friend.
‘George, is that you?’
‘Who else do you know on this number?’
‘George, I need your help, got a bit of a problem, I’ve lost the camp.’
There was a brief silence before his listener responded ‘You lost the camp, you say? Rick you have surpassed yourself this time if what you’re telling me is true, I mean to lose an entire camp…!’
‘Whoa there, it's not my fault. It’s okay though, everyone was on exercises, the gym being handy just ten minutes away.’
Another long pause then, ‘Who else have you informed?’
‘No one, you’re the first one I thought of, well the first one who wouldn’t think I’ve lost my marbles remember what happened the last time with Titanic.’
A brief silence before curiosity got the better of George,
‘What happened with the Titanic?’
‘Why, it sank of course.’
‘What the hell has that to do with the matter in hand if anything at all?’ replied a more irritated George.
‘Nothing, just thought I’d mention it that’s all. It’s been a bit quiet around here of late.’ Eric Kwerk certainly was a strange one alright but he meant well.
Within a matter of minutes George and Dog were at Eric’s kitchen door but before announcing their arrival they took a quick look see at what their friend was kicking up a fuss about, they were used to his calls as he was a nervous chap and often called for no obvious reason but, this time, before G&D’s eyes there was clearly a reason for their friend’s agitation. It was hardly likely he would have dug a mile wide trench outside his kitchen no matter how keen he was for growing his veg. Also there was the matter of where the hell was the camp which had stood on the very spot where there was now a massive hole. It was time to speak to their friend and try to learn more for there was clearly more to be gleaned here. Just as George was about to knock on Eric’s door there came a high pitched scream followed by an earth shaking explosion knocking both George and Dog off their feet.
‘Bloody ‘ell’ thought Dog.
‘Ditto,’ said George, there being a strong telepathic link between the two. Just then the door opened and the gaunt ashen face of Eric peered out.
‘Ah, George, Dog, there you are quick.’ Beckoned Eric looking furtively around, fingernails buried deep in the door.
‘How often does that happen?’ Queried George.
‘That’s the first time.’ Responded Eric, still visibly shaken.
‘So what exactly happened here, Rick?’ George went on.
‘Well, pretty much as I told you on the phone, I woke up, looked out and there it was, the camp, gone and in its place that ruddy great trench. Now I meant to dig the veg patch over but that’s not quite what I had in mind.’ Eric was still looking around with a wild eye, the other was rather calm given the circumstances.
George turned to Dog and said something in a low tone so that Eric couldn’t hear, no sense in complicating matters for him at this stage, thought George. When she had finished, Dog sloped off outside and disappeared for about an hour which didn’t unduly worry George for Dog often carried out his own agenda while on a case, he is a dog for goodness sake. After an hour and many cups of coffee and lots of meaningless chatter between George and Eric Dog returned and sidled up to George and the pair of them stood looking at each other for a full five minutes, Eric completely clueless as to what if anything was going on here for it looked suspiciously like nothing was going on at all to him. Then, the silence was broken.
‘Dog has picked up the scent of the camp and thinks he knows where it is but all the signs are of great danger and by the sound of it I’m going to call upon a friend of mine, if you don’t mind?’ George was looking directly at Eric at this point.
‘Why s-should I mind,' said Eric wearing the sort of look that said, my name is Confusion, what’s yours?
