December 28th 2012, 11:30am
Stan Hallows, assistant flight controller at Sutch and Martin's Flight Club, knocked on his boss' office door and entered. Tom Shelton stared at him from behind his desk with crossed hands.
"Well?"
"Greenham has confirmed that that chopper has disappeared from their screens. Again, no distress signal was sent and no signs of wreckage found. Fat lot of good it will do us; if the families decide to sue, we're ruined…" To Hallows' utmost astonishment, his boss, who was likely to soon be facing lawsuits for the four missing, seemed completely unconcerned, merely sceptical. After all, he needn't fear of any relatives of Johnson or Shaw's coming along, asking questions – his secret employer would see to that.
"All in good time, Stan," he said, passing Hallows the dossier containing the doctored registration forms of Alan, Derek and Julio (Robbins' lay shredded in the wastepaper basket under his desk), as well as all of the Cessna's maintenance records, "Take this stuff down to the police station. Sheriff Fowler has asked for copies of everything. Make sure you also include that maintenance report on the Cessna's engine. The last thing I need are criminal charges for manslaughter by operating an unserviced aircraft."
No sooner had Hallows left, than Tom was on his phone again, "Boss, the unthinkable has happened: Not only hasn't the Cessna been found, but now it seems the chopper has disappeared as well." Sergey didn't answer, no doubt feeling just as baffled by this second disappearance as Shelton was. This was beginning to look unlike something his traitorous son might try to pull off, to throw them off Johnson's trail.
"Well, look on the bright side," Shelton continued, "They'll probably now call off the search altogether. The Royal Air Force has already declared our airspace a non-flight zone until further notice. I hear they suspect it was the radioactive fallout messing up their flight instruments; a few have even taken the hint and suspect it might be Johnson's own fault, given his history of…mental instability," he added with an evil chuckle.
Sergey seemed to be thinking along the same lines as he replied, "I see. Well, I'll make sure our people keep a sharp lookout for a while, just in case something does turn up. Such a pity our man didn't make it though…What did you tell the police in your statement?"
"Johnson and Shaw had chartered a leisure flight over New Forest and had an accident beyond our control; your man was never on this flight at all. No connection between him and us whatsoever."
"Excellent. Now that the matter is closed, Project Black Inferno can continue on schedule. I have already made funeral arrangements for Johnson and Shaw, to hasten up the wrapping-up of the investigation. You have done well, Shelton."
Shelton put down the phone, grinning from ear to ear, the thought of the six-figure sum he was due to receive shortly for his services playing over in his mind. Dirty work definitely has its rewards, he thought. Pretty soon, his debts would be a thing of the past; he could sell this crummy business and move away, to start a new chartering business, maybe even start his own airline…
Three days later…
Three graves had been dug in Newtown Common Churchyard, with the coffins of the 'deceased' about to be lowered down to their final resting place. However, the coffins contained no human remains, as the bodies of their supposed occupants had not been recovered for burial. Today was Alan and Derek funerals, two plane crash victims being laid to rest.
As Tom had expected, the search had been called off shortly after the chopper's disappearance. The eight people gone missing were all ultimately declared dead, leaving their heartbroken families to mourn them – in Alan and Derek case, however, who had no families left to mourn them, Sergey had taken over their funeral arrangements instead, as part of his plan.
He and Shelton stood watching nearby, where a third empty coffin – Robbins' – was being lowered into another grave. After a short memorial service, the cheap double funeral for Alan and Derek was over. The few attendants, including Mrs Hanson and a few old colleagues or acquaintances of theirs, departed in a sorrow gaze. After observing a brief moment of silence for their own man, Sergey and Tom followed the rest of the mourners out.
"Well Tom, I believe we can finally close the book on this matter. Whether this was mere coincidence or not, I don't know, but it doesn't matter. None of our work was compromised and this breach in our security has finally been detained."
"Couldn't have been easier, boss," commented Shelton smugly, "Johnson and Shaw had no family, so we needn't fear of anybody come nosing along; Andre's family are back in Spain and knew nothing of Johnson; nor did Major McEwen's family, or any of his crew's. And I suppose you took care of covering up for your man?"
"Yes, I had to pull a few…delicate strings on this one. A man leading a double life suddenly dying for real is a real bitch to cover up," said Sergey, "Now he's officially erased from history; he never had any contact with Johnson or Shaw whatsoever, not in this life, or in his previous one."
"Then why did you insist on having him buried, and right next to his own would-be victims?" asked Shelton curiously, "Don't you think the grave of a non-existent person might look a tad bit suspicious…?"
"I have my reasons, which don't concern you," said Sergey sternly, cutting Shelton off, "Now, we still have a lot of unfinished business to attend to. We still haven't recovered the evidence – dangerous evidence that could ruin everything if it ends up in the wrong hands. I'll be sending Sven and a few others up to London tomorrow, to sweep Johnson's home clean. I want you to escort them on this errand. And don't cash your cheque until next week, understood?"
"Yes, boss."
Reaching into his pocket for his chequebook, to pay his man his money, Sergey realised he had forgotten it at home. Shelton would just have to wait a while longer for his cheque. He turned to his associate, "Come, we'll have a shot of vodka back at the Hall to celebrate; I can also give you your cheque there." As they turned to leave, Sergey cast one last look at the three false graves behind the closed churchyard gates. He smiled, thinking of something he had, unbeknownst to Shelton or anybody else, slipped into those empty coffins before they had left the funeral home. These graves will serve a noble purpose, he thought.
Feeling his delicate heart over-pounding with excitement, he took out his box of nitro pills and swallowed one, not realising it was of that special batch his son Cole, whom he believed had fled the country by now to save himself, had slipped him. He and Shelton followed the road back towards Newtown, where Sergey's limo waited to take them back to Overton.
Suddenly, Sergey gave a loud gasp and collapsed, clutching his chest in agony; the dud medication was acting in his system, causing his heart to stall. An alarmed Tom run up to his boss and turned him over. The Russian was chalk white, his lips turning a shade of deadly blue, his mouth foaming. Tom froze, recognising the symptoms, Damn, not a heart attack! Not now! Quickly, he dialled an emergency number on his cell phone, requesting medical aid, while Sergey turned and vomited all over the road, quickly going into cardiac arrest.
Ten minutes later, an ambulance had arrived on the scene. Two paramedics hoisted the semiconscious and barely alive Sergey onto a stretcher and carried him to the ambulance. He was airlifted to a hospital in London and put on life support, the doctors fighting to save his life. But, this time, Drake would have his revenge.
A week later, Tom received a phone call that his secret employer had died – ironically, taking the money he owed him to the grave with him. His untimely death was a crushing blow for the Red Hand Brotherhood, which aborted shortly thereafter. Its members, after destroying all evidence that linked them to the faction, disbanded, and went different ways. Project Black Inferno never came to pass and was soon forgotten beneath the dust of history.
Tom Shelton, after losing the money of his dreams to Sergey's untimely passing, went bankrupt and eventually died in poverty. Police Commissioner Sven Shertok, Sergey's right-hand man and key collaborator, abandoned his life of crime and enjoyed a successful career in the police forces. Dr Drake came out of hiding, only to discover his wife and son were already dead; the only thing he had left was a massive, dirty inheritance left behind by his evil father. A chance to start over – and to seek redemption.
After setting his family's affairs in order, Drake returned to his work with a vengeance, using his newfound fortune to finance the most ambitious scientific project in history, with which he hoped to expiate his betrayal of his family and his colleague, which he had sent to their deaths because of his connection to Sergey. He couldn't bring them back; but at least he could honour their sacrifice. This project became the very centre of his existence for the rest of his life, eventually changing the course of history, never realising that his vanished colleague and his would-be killer still lived and breathed, and were yet to confront each other…
March 11th 2791, Sandleford
With Hazel and Fiver in the lead, the seven outskirters made their way through the woods until they reached the spot on the edge of the marshes, where Alan had said he and his companions were camped. Hazel turned and looked at his friends, amused by their expressions of utmost amazement. Never in their wildest dreams had they been expecting something as spectacular as this!
"Frith and thunder, it's that mysterious white bird my patrol saw two nights ago!" gasped Silver in surprise, recognising the crashed plane out on the marsh, "We thought it was some sort of elil coming in to attack, and we ran for cover, but then it vanished like the wind…"
Bigwig was also staring at the stranded plane in total bewilderment, "Where in Frith's name did that thing come from? I've never seen anything like it before… And look, there they are!" he growled softly, as he suddenly spotted Alan and his companions standing a short distance away, staring at them. His fighting instincts about to kick in at the sight of humans, but luckily managing to control himself, Bigwig was struck dumb by how alien those creatures looked.
"Well, I've got to hand it to you, Hazel," he muttered in disbelief, taking in the humans' strange appearance (namely their clothing), whilst struggling to grasp the fact that they were actually talking, just as Hazel and Fiver had said, "Those creatures are not the ithel I know!"
Alan's party had just finished putting out their campfire, ready to move out. Alerted by their voices, Alan turned and saw his visitors had arrived on schedule. He smiled; Hazel hadn't betrayed him to the Owsla after all. He could see the two brothers had brought quite some company with them, all of which matched the descriptions of the characters from the book. Derek and Robbins stood as if rooted to the spot, utterly dumbstruck by the sight of those giant, talking rabbits, realising Alan hadn't been mad. He raised an eyebrow, amused by their amazement, "See? Didn't I tell you?"
Hazel and Fiver walked right up to Alan, while their nervous friends stood watching from a safe distance at those strange humans, not knowing what to expect. The man was about to greet them when he suddenly noticed their expressions of worry, rather than excitement, on their faces.
"What is it?"
"It happened," explained Fiver in a shaky voice, "My vision, which you foretold, happened just now, exactly as you said it would. I saw our warren destroyed…!" Alan knelt down to meet the distressed seer's gaze. It seemed his theory had been proven correct much sooner than he'd expected.
"I'm sorry, Fiver, damn how I wish I had been wrong," he said, realising that if the plot of the book was indeed real and unfolding as he spoke, then it consequently placed a huge responsibility on his shoulders. Surprisingly enough, for someone having just realised of all the hardships and challenges fate had in store for them, the two brothers were far from despairing.
"It isn't your fault, Alan," said Hazel encouragingly, "Having you on our side alone is the best advantage we could possibly ask for. That's why we've come to you." Alan couldn't help but smile; despite his uncertain situation of suddenly being made these rabbits' messiah so to speak, at least he'd won their trust…well, at least Hazel and Fiver's anyway.
Meanwhile, the other rabbits were staring dumbstruck, not knowing what to make of this 'magical' ithe, who could indeed talk and think like a fellow rabbit. Slowly regaining their confidence, they inched closer. Hazel turned to the three humans, "I'd like you to meet our friends."
Soon Alan and his two companions were exchanging introductions with Hazel and Fiver's friends, all of which Alan could vaguely recognise from the book. It was incredible; these giant rabbits, although more or less physically similar to normal rabbits, displayed many unusual traits and characteristics. They seemed to run on all fours, but would stand in an upright position when not moving, and even use their forepaws to perform various 'hand' gestures, such as pointing and touching, just like humans did.
Their faces, in direct contrast to normal rabbits, had many human expressions, such as smiling or frowning; even their eyes, which resembled those of humans, complete with whites and coloured irises, shone with intelligence, and Alan could tell they weren't colour-blind. Their voices, although human-like, still had a trace of rabbit sounds in them, such as cooing and faint grinding noises caused by their jaw movements, each with a different level of deepness, which allowed Alan to distinguish easily between the bucks from the does.
With the exception of the dwarf rabbit Pipkin, the only youngster in the group, the rest of the bucks appeared to be late teenagers, by their age standards. Bigwig, the eldest, easily stood out as the strongest, and, despite his stern, non-smiling expression, he still seemed a good-natured fellow. Atop his head, Alan noticed the distinct patch of fur he had read about in the book, but had always found hard to imagine in real life.
It was almost as if these rabbits were some sort of cross-species between rabbit and human, which gave them the abilities of speech and human intelligence, yet Alan was at a total loss to explain this impossible evolution, much less their connection to Adams' book. And, as he'd figured, he and his companions were just as big a mystery to their long-eared friends as they were to them.
"So you actually come from another world, from the sky?" asked Pipkin, who had built up the courage to walk up to Alan, staring in amazement at the human towering above him. In comparison to the rest of the group, he was the smallest and easily the most innocent and childish, his full height barely reaching up to Alan's knees. Although a skittish and insecure rabbit by nature, traumatised by the deaths of his parents in a weasel attack when he was a kitten, Pipkin had been quick to notice the friendliness in this strange human, his ever-intriguing, childish curiosity urging him to get to know him better.
"That's right, Hlao-roo," Alan chuckled, bending down to pat Pipkin between the ears, having taken an instant liking to this curious, innocent little bugger. The dwarf rabbit, amazed how this human, whom he'd never met before, knew his Lapine birth name, momentarily cringed under his touch, but then eased up, realising that he was indeed as friendly as he looked.
Encouraged by Pipkin's initiative, the rest of the rabbits soon regained their confidence and joined in, any qualms they had of this alien human being dangerous entirely forgotten. Even Bigwig, finally assured of their trustworthiness, joined in. Only Robbins didn't seem keen on socialising, as he introduced himself with courtesy to the rabbits before stepping aside.
Derek soon found himself deep in conversation with Hawkbit, Dandelion and Silver, struggling to explain to them how their plane worked. Although the engineer prided himself with his vast knowledge of mechanics, he found that explaining even the simplest principles of aerodynamics to a group of humanoid rabbits, that couldn't even comprehend such a contraption, was proving to be quite a challenge.
"Frith of Inle, chap, you're driving me around the bend!" exclaimed Dandelion, staring in disbelief at the wreck, "A hrududu that can fly? That's something I've got to see. Just imagine the look on Blackberry's face if he could see this now!" Blackberry was the Chief Rabbit's personal advisor, a former outskirter, who had risen to a high position because of his impressive brilliance and ingenuity. Although he remained on good terms with his outskirter friends after joining the Threarah's Council, he insisted on keeping his humble parentage as discreet as possible, as not to discredit his hard-earned reputation, much to his friends' disappointment.
"How is it that you know so much about us, yet we've never even met the likes of you before?" asked Bigwig, utterly perplexed, if not a tad bit suspicious, "The humans we know are nothing like you; they only live to kill and destroy. Are you all…magical seers or something? Although, from what Hazel and Fiver have been telling me, I could swear you sound more like a warrior than a seer. Not many rabbits would dare chase after an attacking homba, to save the life of a rabbit they've never even met… Just where in Frith's name are you getting all this information I've been hearing?"
"Crazy as it might sound, pal, from a damn storybook," explained Alan, "I know every last detail about you, fellas, including your language, the tales of El-ahrairah, and, yes, all your adventures following your exodus from Sandleford. Enough to drive you around the twist this situation, I'll tell you that. Frankly, it was a good thing I thought I was going mad at that particular moment, otherwise I might have thought twice about sticking my neck out for Fiver… Oh, well, I guess serving on the front lines in one of the worst wars in history can sometimes drive a man to recklessness in the heat of the moment…"
"Oh, so you're a soldier then?" asked Bigwig, his curiosity peaked. Being an Owsla veteran, who couldn't think much of life without some adventure, he took great pride in meeting others who'd follow in his footsteps so to speak, "What rank? Don't tell me you're some crummy aid to a carrot-necked Owsla officer…" Alan chuckled.
"Hardly, I was an enlisted man, fighting someone else's dirty war, before resigning (Bigwig looked scandalised at this), to be close to my family. Not that it lasted though…" he muttered, his tone suddenly turning grim, as the memories of his wife and daughter resurfaced again.
"What happened?"
"They were murdered…because of my stupidity," Alan explained sadly, launching into his story of the tragedy that had changed his life forever. He had never discussed this topic openly with anyone before, not even Derek, but now he found that by spilling his grief to the heroes of his favourite book, he felt a suffocating weight suddenly lift off his chest. And the reactions of his newfound friends shocked him.
Fiver and Pipkin were close to tears; Hazel and Silver were staring at Alan with pity; Bigwig kept muttering angry threats about 'cowards who daren't fight their opponents face-to-face, so instead target the weaker ones'. Fiver, however, finally understanding the pain he'd sensed in Alan's heart when they'd first met, placed a comforting paw on the man's arm.
"Alan, you mustn't blame yourself; there was nothing you could have done to prevent it. But know this: we understand your pain and suffering. It doesn't matter that you're a human and we're rabbits; we still trust you and consider you as a friend." Although surprised by Fiver's words, the other rabbits, including Bigwig, who normally harboured a great distrust for humans, actually nodded in agreement. Derek gave his mate a friendly slap on the back. Nobody however noticed Robbins, who was frowning, almost as if, for some reason, annoyed at the sight of Alan associating with these humanoid rabbits. Or was it something else…?
Alan patted the young rabbit between the ears, "Thank you Fiver. That really means a lot to me." He remembered how many – including his own in-laws – had openly blamed him for the deaths of Mary and Lucy, dragging his name through the mud, and forcing him to withdraw into solitude. Yet now, he was standing amidst this group of giant rabbits, who not only didn't think ill of him, but actually understood his troubles, when no one else did. Perhaps this strange place was where he could hope to find happiness again…? This happy thought was short-lived however when Bigwig spoke again, this time in a more serious tone.
"Look here, chum, although we accept you as a friend, you do realise that your… knowledge of our future, gives you a great responsibility towards us? If there is indeed trouble coming to this warren, then it is your duty to do something about it!" At this, Alan felt very uneasy; Bigwig was literally asking him to attempt to cheat fate, which might mean putting all their lives at serious risk if he didn't play his cards right. However, it was too late to turn back anymore.
"I'll help you in anyway I can, but you must understand something: we can't take anything for granted here. I appearing out of the blue to warn you of your future was never foretold, so we have no way of knowing how things might turn out now, or whether my interference will change anything at all."
"So what should we do then? Perhaps we should gather anyone else willing to join us and leave now, just to be on the safe side…?" suggested Hazel, when he was suddenly interrupted by a stern voice coming from the edge of the woods.
"Nobody is going anywhere. You're all under arrest!"
Turning, they saw a dozen other rabbits suddenly spring from the trees, surrounding them in an ambush. Leading the squad was a stern-faced, middle-aged buck with steel-grey fur, which Alan figured was Captain Holly of the Sandleford Owsla. He cursed under his breath, realising that his friends had undoubtedly been discovered and followed. And, apparently, he and his chums were not here to socialise, much less happy with catching Hazel and his friends in the company of three strange humans.
"Under arrest? On what charges?" demanded Bigwig, challenging his commanding officer. Holly only shot him a furious – and disappointed – glare, as if the burly soldier-rabbit was a traitor caught red-handed – and, as far as Holly was concerned, that was precisely the case here. Amongst the squad were also Toadflax and Scabious, who gave the outskirters looks of pure malice, looking triumphant at having unravelled this 'gang of traitors', for which they would soon be generously rewarded.
"For incitement to mutiny and for concealing an enemy spy," the Owsla Captain replied coldly in his firm monotone, staring at Alan, Derek and Robbins. He turned to face the outskirters, "The same charges stand for the rest of you. Your new friends here are to be taken in for questioning by the Threarah. Owsla, take them!" His troopers positioned themselves around the group, waiting for them to obey. Robbins tried to make a dash for the plane, where he'd left his bag with his gun on the back seat, but a rough-looking Owsla trooper blocked his way, forcing him back into the group with the other prisoners.
"You don't understand, Captain Holly," Fiver tried pleading with the strict Owsla captain, "They aren't enemies; they're here to help us. We think our warren is in danger…" But Holly only shoved him back, non-too gently, "Learn not to speak out of line, you insolent little runt! Your overactive imagination has gotten you into enough trouble already." At this, Hazel stepped between Holly and Fiver.
"Touch my brother again and I'll kill you!" he growled in Holly's face, causing the Owsla captain to frown dangerously. How dare this troublemaking outskirter threaten him, the Captain of Owsla himself! "It's you who'll be killed, outskirter!" He was about to strike Hazel, but Alan grabbed him by his raised paw to stop him.
"There's no need for that – Captain Holly, is it? We'll come along quietly, just as long as I get a chance to talk to your Chief." Holly roughly pulled his paw out of Alan's grip, as if the man were something utterly revolting, "Oh, you will come along quietly if you know what's good for you, stranger, and I sincerely hope you have a good explanation for trespassing here. Very well, I'll forget that little outburst…just this once," he said, giving Hazel a cold look of warning.
Bigwig seemed about to retort too, perhaps in the sense of forcefully resisting arrest, which would probably only land them in even greater trouble, but Alan put a firm hand on his shoulder, keeping him from doing something he might regret. He whispered in his ear, so that Holly couldn't hear, "Don't do anything stupid. Even if we could escape, we'll be leaving many others to their fate. This may be my only chance of warning your Chief of the danger. If I can make him see reason, then we might be able to save everyone." Although doubtful that the Threarah would take Alan's word for it, Bigwig reluctantly nodded and calmed his nerves.
The Owsla led them all back towards the warren; Holly's rabbits walked alongside the group in an orderly manner, ensuring no escape attempts were made, every now and then cuffing an outskirter over the hunch to make him walk faster or simply to keep him in line. Several of Holly's troopers stayed behind to guard the plane on Holly's orders, possibly thinking the humans might have more companions out there.
Soon, they came to a burrow entrance at the foot of an ancient oak. Holly entered first; Alan heard him speaking to someone below in Lapine. An elderly voice – presumably the Chief Rabbit – answered him, also in Lapine. Soon, he was back and ordered them to follow him inside. Scabious gave Derek a rough shove on the buttocks as he struggled to crawl down the narrow run and Alan had to restrain his indignant friend from turning round and punching the bullying Owsla rabbit on the nose.
Down the hole, they found themselves in a long, low-ceiling tunnel, which seemed to lead deep underground, where the Sandleford aristocracy lived. The men lit their flashlights, penetrating the gloom and allowing them to see their surroundings, as the guards led them deep into the heart of the warren. Hazel and his friends were ushered away, probably to a holding burrow, leaving the three humans on their own with Holly and his guards.
They walked down a tunnel that split in many directions like an underground maze, dug right beneath the forest floor, the overhead tree roots serving as the warren's foundations. Many rabbits – apparently, the aristocrats or high-ranking officials of Sandleford – stared curiously at them from their burrows as they walked past, but kept their distance. Among them, Alan recognised Hazel's friend Bluebell, who was staring at him with wide, weary eyes, as if he were some dangerous animal on a leash. Cringing uneasily behind him was his pretty mate Violet, Silver's sister, who seemed scared stiff by the presence of humans in their home, as were the rest of the spectators. Not exactly a warm welcome to be sure.
At last, they came to some sort of chamber, resembling an underground grotto. Inside, on some straw bedding, lay a fat, elderly rabbit with thick white whiskers and eyebrows. Alan thought maybe he was semi-cynical from old age or perhaps he had suffered a mild stroke, judging from his semi-vague expression. Holly spoke in a pompous tone, addressing the three visitors.
"This is the Threarah, our Chief Rabbit. He will be questioning you. You are to remain seated unless told otherwise; also you are to speak only when spoken to and you are to answer respectfully and promptly. Step out of line once and it will bring about serious repercussions." Once the three men were seated on the burrow floor cross-legged, Holly turned back to his Chief, "Your prisoners are waiting, sir."
"Thank you, Captain Holly. Please leave us. I will deal with Thlayli, Silver and the outskirters later."
Holly nodded and left the cavern, probably to brief Hazel and the others of their upcoming punishment, leaving Alan, Derek, and Robbins alone with the Threarah. However, two guards stood watch just outside the entrance, eliminating any chance of escape. The Threarah shifted his gaze over to the three humans, his ancient, cataract-lined eyes seemingly sizing each of them out. Finally, they came to rest on Alan.
"I presume you're the leader of this group?" Alan nodded, "Well, stranger, I suppose you already know why you and your friends have been brought here. My Owsla caught you plotting a conspiracy against me with the help of those outskirters. Well, you will do well to remember this: spies with foul intentions are dealt with swiftly and harshly around here. Likewise, aiding and abating an enemy are serious, punishable offences. Apparently you are responsible for persuading those fools into doing your bidding. Have you anything to say for yourself?" Derek was about to retort in a rather rude manner to the Threarah's accusations, but Alan raised a hand to silence him, giving him a look of 'I'll handle this, so shut the hell up'.
"Actually, Threarah, I do," he answered calmly, ignoring the aged rabbit's accusing glare. He had past experience – having learned it the hard way – and knew how important it was to control his temper at moments such as these and remain calm, yet firm, if he wanted to achieve anything. He sincerely hoped this tactic would now work to his advantage. Indeed, the elderly Chief Rabbit, surprised by his politeness and obvious respect for his authority, softened his gaze, "Very well. Let's hear it then."
"Threarah, we don't mean any trouble. We've come to warn you. I think your warren might be in danger," said Alan, deliberately avoiding explaining how he knew all this information – he doubted the old rabbit would believe him anyway –, hoping that at least the Threarah would sense the urgency in his voice and put aside his assumption that he meant trouble. Unfortunately, just like in the book, this was not to be the case.
"In danger you say?" asked the Chief Rabbit with very little interest – much to Alan's dismay – as he lazily took a bite out of a cowslip beside him, "And what sort of danger, I wonder?"
"A complete annihilation of your warren and the deaths of everyone in it." Alan was hoping that the Threarah, apparently an overcautious leader, would be instantly put on edge by this warning of doom and hear him out; on the contrary, the elderly Chief rabbit didn't seem the least troubled, dismissing it as a minor inconvenience.
"How very upsetting. And what exactly is the cause of this…annihilation?" he asked, showing no sign that he actually believed Alan at all, and only simply playing along. Not wanting to end up in hot water by confessing to the Threarah that it may in fact be humans behind all this – whatever kind of humans there were in this world anyway – Alan explained.
"We don't know that, sir. However…" he went on, before the Threarah could interrupt him, "We're certain it's due to happen sometime in the next few days, and we're positive about the danger. That's why we've come here in the first place, to warn you." The Threarah looked thoughtful. Indeed, it seemed rather odd that this stranger, whatever secret he was hiding, would let himself be captured willingly, if he were indeed a spy, as Toadflax had claimed. He considered for a moment.
"Very well. Since you were technically acting on my behalf, I will wait and see whether your warning is true, before passing any judgement. Should any sign of this…danger present itself, I'll see to it that all appropriate measures are taken at once." Alan rolled his eyes; this tactic would only result in total disaster if the catastrophe did come to pass – and, in the light of Fiver's vision, it seemed more than probable. Either this old coot is a complete retard or he's merely brought us down here to toy with us like children. He tried to reason with him.
"But, Threarah, surely if you want to ensure your people's safety, then you should think about evacuating without delay…" he tried protesting, but the Threarah, having heard enough codswallop for one evening, cut the conversation short.
"Like I said, I'll think this over very carefully. In the meantime, however, you and your companions will regretfully have to remain in my custody…for your own safety, of course. That will be all, stranger." He summoned Captain Holly back in and whispered something in his ear. Holly nodded.
"Captain Holly will show you to your quarters. You can tell me more about it…in the summer." Without another word, he turned back to his dinner. As he turned his back to them, Alan thought he heard him mutter something like 'once and always the same, the lot of them', before he felt Holly grab him by his shirt collar and roughly pull him to his feet, "Come along then, you, I haven't got all evening!"
They followed Holly deeper underground, into another burrow, much smaller than the Threarah's. He ushered them in, "You are to remain confined to this burrow, unless you have an Owsla escort. The Threarah may have decided you are no immediate threat but he could always withdraw his leniency regarding security, should you cause any trouble. Oh, and those are for your hunger," he added, gesturing towards some apples scattered in a corner, which was their meagre dinner. Without another word, he turned and left. Outside, two thickset guards rolled a heavy boulder across the burrow entrance, sealing them inside.
"So much for your 'peaceful approach', Dr Johnson," Robbins glared at him incredulously, "Now we've really had it!" Beside him, Derek sat down to calm his nerves, still furious with the Threarah for toying with them like that, "That old blighter! Who does he think he is, the bloody Prince of Wales…?!"
At that moment, Toadflax and Scabious appeared, bringing Bigwig, Silver, Hazel and Fiver, "Your associates have been brought to keep you company for the night, scum!" sneered Scabious as he and his companion roughly shoved the group into the small holding-burrow. Bigwig, on the verge of exploding, had to be restrained by Hazel and Silver from striking the two corrupt Owsla scouts. The troublesome duo gave them all one final triumphant smirk and left. The massive boulder was rolled back into place, sealing them inside their little prison-house.
"Was it bad?"
"Both of us have been expelled from the Owsla, and I've even been disowned by my dear Uncle," said Silver grimly, "Not that I ever really cared much about being his nephew anyway, always being regarded as the shame of his flesh…"
"I told you the Threarah wouldn't be so easy," said Bigwig, "And it isn't over yet; I heard from Holly he's going to wait, so he can 'prove' that you're lying, before having you executed as spies. The rest of us will probably be facing banishment for treason afterwards…"
"If he lives long enough to do so," said Derek grimly, "He said he would detain us until he can confirm Alan's story – in other words, he intends to wait until it's too late. That pompous, self-righteous old crackpot has no idea what he's doing… No offence, old boy," he added hastily to Silver who, surprisingly enough, wasn't the least offended at hearing his uncle insulted. Apparently, the Chief Rabbit and his nephew had some serious family issues, or else Silver wouldn't be here now.
"There was something very odd about the Threarah," said Alan, suddenly remembering the Chief Rabbit's accusations, "He said the Owsla had seen you plotting a conspiracy with us, to overthrow him. How could he have gotten such an idea? You said the Owsla knew nothing of us; do you suppose someone decided to…well, frame us?"
"Toadflax…" Bigwig muttered, suddenly making the obvious connection.
"What about that rabbit?"
"It was he and Scabious who reported you to the Threarah. I saw them," he explained, "They claimed to have overheard you plotting this alleged revolt. But surely you were not doing such a thing, were you Hazel?" asked the burly veteran, turning to look sharply at Hazel, who shook his head in denial.
"Don't talk rot, of course not. I merely asked our friends not to blab, to avoid getting us all into trouble. If I didn't know that bullying, lying miscreant any better, I'd say he sugercoated his story, hoping to earn a promotion. You know how much he wanted the rank of senior officer." The others nodded in angry realisation.
"Well, I guess that explains everything. I might have persuaded the Threarah to take my word, if he didn't see me as a threat to begin with," said Alan bitterly. Bigwig looked furious.
"I'm going to thrash him so badly, he'll be screaming for the Black Rabbit long before I'm done with him!" he growled, his eyes flashing with anger. Having his rank revoked because of a corrupt foot soldier framing him was a great insult to the mighty veteran's pride. But there wasn't much neither he nor Silver could do about it now. Currently, they had bigger problems on their plate, like getting out of here in one piece.
"What happened to the others by the way?" Derek asked, noticing the peculiar absence of Hawkbit, Dandelion and Pipkin.
"They were let off with a good scolding. The Threarah doesn't have time to deal with outskirters," said Silver, "Most likely, they'll be sentenced to the digging squads throughout mating season; that's the most common punishment for petty troublemakers. The reason they chose to detain us is that Bigwig and I are Owsla officers who have been found guilty of treason for attempting to conceal you. Hazel and Fiver have been identified as the ringleaders in this plot and are also accused of treason. Toadflax recited your entire conversation to the Threarah…his way," he muttered in disgust. Bigwig snorted, his mind reflecting to Toadflax and Scabious, who would soon be promoted to senior officers for 'heroically' unravelling this alleged plot of revolt.
"So what do we do now?" asked Fiver, dreading what he'd seen in his vision that afternoon, "I can feel it getting closer," he murmured, shuddering, as if in a cold breeze, his sixth sense live and acting like an alarm for the upcoming catastrophe. Although Alan was still wondering exactly what would cause the destruction of Sandleford, he realised they wouldn't be waiting very long to find out and it scared him; it scared them all. They needed some plan of escape and fast.
"Well, I'm not going to sit around and wait for a disaster to put me out of my misery," said Bigwig. He turned to stare at the boulder sealing the entrance, "Maybe, if we heave together, we could get that thing out of the way? If we have the element of total surprise, we could try and make a run for it…and leave those corrupt, thick-headed mules to their fate, as they deserve!"
"We'll never make it back above ground, Bigwig, and well you know it," said Silver sharply, shaking his head, "We're right in the heart of the warren and we've got the entire Owsla between us and the surface. We can't possibly take them all…"
"Then why not simply do what you fellows do best?" suggested Robbins sarcastically, "Why not just dig another way out, like the Count of Monte Cristo?" The two Owsla rabbits rounded on the documentarian, not knowing who the Count of Monte Cristo was, but reproachful all the same.
"I'll let you know, chum, we have more decency than to do does' work!" snapped Bigwig, clearly insulted. Luckily, Robbins got the hint and held his tongue.
Alan was considering their options; both Bigwig and Robbins' ideas had their merits, but weren't good enough to get them out of this fix. Doing some quick thinking, he turned to his companions, "What have you got on you?" They both shook their heads, "Nothing, everything is back at the plane; I only have the thermos, which I kept by accident," said Derek, showing him the water-filled thermos hanging on his side by its strap. Not much use as an escape tool. But Alan wasn't giving up; going through his pockets, he took out his anti-depression pills and his alcohol-filled hipflask, which were all the materials he needed to set his plan in motion.
"I think I've got an idea. All right, Deke, pass me a piece of paper, anything smooth," he said, drawing his trusty knife from its holster. Derek handed him his notebook to use as a working surface and they got to work. With Robbins holding the flashlight so he could see, Alan carefully placed the pills on the smooth surface of the open notebook, and Alan started grinding them to powder using the blade of his knife. Then, he poured the powder into the thermos, along with some alcohol from his hipflask, using guess-estimated ratios. Sealing the thermos, he shook it hard, allowing the medication, water and alcohol to mix, improvising a simple but powerful homemade anaesthetic.
"Smell," he said putting it close to Bigwig's face, to test whether the drug was traceable by scent. It that was the case, their plan would be doomed before they got started. The burly rabbit complied, "I can't smell anything bad about it. What's this supposed to be?" Alan ignored Bigwig's question, satisfied that the rabbits couldn't detect it. Then came the hard part.
"Now, all we need is to find a way for the Owsla – everybody, that is – to drink this stuff and it'll be off to dreamland for them and then, we walk out of here as if we own the joint. But how?" They all shrugged at the apparent impossibility of Alan's plan; how on earth were they supposed to trick half the warren into helping themselves to the narcotic and going to sleep?
"I think we may be in luck," said Silver, suddenly remembering, "The burrow right next to ours is the larder for the Chief and Owsla's flayrah; we rarely have prisoners in custody, so the unused holding burrows are used as larders instead, for winter storage."
Alan patted the chubby buck between the ears, "You're bloody brilliant, Silver! If our hosts' buffet is within our reach, then all we have to is add a touch of 'spices' to their dinner, and then we've outlived our welcome! All right then, come on, time to get dirty!"
While the rabbits took turns tunnelling through the burrow wall (much to Bigwig's displeasure, who hated digging), in the direction of, where Silver best figured, the larder was, Alan and Derek, on their knees, shoved handfuls of loose earth away. Only Robbins wasn't up to his waist in dirt, having been assigned lookout, as he listened over by the sealed burrow entrance for any approaching guards. They all prayed the loud scrapping sounds of their digging weren't heard. But their luck held out.
An hour later, they had successfully tunnelled through the wall, finding themselves in another sealed burrow similar to theirs, pilled high with flayrah the Sandleford Owsla had gathered from the surrounding countryside for the warren's elite class. Thermos of narcotic under his arm, Alan crawled through the hole and into the larder. Giving it a good shake to refresh the mixture, he began sprinkling the dried-up cabbages, carrots, cowslips and apples scattered in piles all around the burrow. Non-traceable by scent, the narcotic mixture resembled harmless moisture, hopefully giving it a more appetizing look for the unsuspecting rabbits who were about to eat it.
He was just about done, when he heard Bigwig's voice through the hole, "The Owsla is on their way down. Get back!" Not waiting to be told twice, Alan hurryingly crawled back into the prison burrow and they quickly covered up the hole, getting rid of all signs of their work.
They listened as the cheerful Owsla officers passed outside their burrow to get their evening meal from the larder next door, much like soldiers having mess. They could hear them chattering excitedly, singing their praises for the 'heroic' Toadflax and Scabious, not realising it was all just a big, dirty lie. Alan, ignoring the distasteful conversation, kept consulting his watch, wondering how much more time before everyone was drugged. Half an hour? One hour? Would it even work? The minutes slowly ticked by…
Eventually, a deathly silence filled the maze of burrows and runs; the entire warren had been put to sleep, drugged by the narcotic. Alan turned to his group, "Let's go!"
Heaving against the boulder blocking the exit, they rolled it aside. Outside, they were confronted by two drugged guards, lying unconscious on the floor of the run, like a pair of Sleeping Beauties. Alan figured the drug would wear off by daybreak; by then, they would be long gone from this place. The rabbits stared in utter amazement, clearly impressed by the trick Alan had just pulled off to bust them out, which rivalled those even of El-ahrairah himself. These idiots would wake up in an empty warren, wondering what had happened to them. Silver couldn't suppress a smirk as he pictured the look on his Uncle's face when he heard of their escape.
Retaining full alertness, in case someone was still awake, the group crept back up the run, past dozens of sleeping rabbits lying prone all over the place, making their way towards the exit, where they intended to round up the rest of the outskirters and anyone else willing to join them, and make a hasty departure.
Soon, they were back above ground, free as birds, the men taking in gulps of fresh air, glad to be finally out of the asphyxiating environment of their underground prison. Seeing no one about – the sentries would obviously not be reporting for duty tonight –, they were about to make their way back to the outskirters' neighbourhood, when suddenly Fiver called them back.
"Wait. What about all the others down there? We can't just leave them like this. They'll be killed!" Alan realised the little seer had a point; if disaster struck before the drug wore off, then all the rabbits down there would be condemned to die, without a chance in hell to save themselves. That would make them responsible for murder. And, regardless of the unfair treatment they had received by those snobbish, bullying rascals, Alan certainly didn't want that kind of blood on his hands. But what were they supposed to do about it?
"How about we move them out?" Derek suggested, "This way, they'll be above ground and away from danger should disaster strike before they wake up." Although it would mean leaving all these unconscious rabbits as easy prey for elil out in the open, under the circumstances, it was a risk worth taking.
"That's a good idea. All right, let's get started," said Alan, "Bigwig, Silver and I will handle the evacuation; Derek, you stand outside the entrance and keep a sharp lookout for any unwanted company; Hazel, you and Fiver go get your friends and anyone else you think might be willing to join us, and make it fast; Robbins, you go back to the plane and get the rest of our gear. On the double!" Under the cover of darkness, they got to work.
Evacuating an entire warren of unconscious rabbits wasn't easy. Although Alan, Bigwig and Silver were strong enough to carry one rabbit each at a time, moving through narrow burrows with an unconscious body on their backs was extremely slow work. Moving in and out of burrows like burglars, they kept finding more and more sedated rabbits, which they moved out, combing the warren clean.
An hour later, most of the rabbits had been moved out and lay side by side under the shelter of some trees, a short distance from the warren. With Derek standing guard over them, Silver, Bigwig and Alan continued with the evacuation. Hazel and Fiver had returned and informed them that they had rounded up all their friends and were ready to move out. They were just about to move one of the last few rabbits left – an Owsla scout called Pimpernel – out, when suddenly someone appeared down the entrance run, blocking their way.
"What are you doing out here? How did you escape from the holding burrow?" It was Captain Holly, who, they realised too late, had just returned from patrol, and thus hadn't been drugged like the others. Noticing the peculiar absence of his sentries who were supposed to be outside on night watch, he had immediately realised something was wrong and hurried below to investigate, catching them in the act. Alan felt his blood turn cold with dread as he watched Holly's face become contorted with fury, as he noticed the rigid Pimpernel in the man's arms, probably thinking there had been a massacre.
"Holly, this isn't what you think…" Silver tried explaining, but the narrow-minded Captain of Owsla would hear none of it.
"WHAT IN FRITH'S NAME HAVE YOU DONE? WHAT'S HAPPENED TO EVERYBODY? YOU'VE MURDERED THEM ALL! I WILL KILL YOU FOR THIS, EMBLEER ITHE!" he bellowed as he lunged at Alan. But Bigwig was faster. In an instant, he had Holly pinned to the ground with an iron grip about his former Captain's throat. Holly, close to suffocating under the pressure of Bigwig's massive paw, stared helplessly, but defiantly, at his former comrade. Surely, he thought, these traitors would now do him in as well and then escape with their human accomplice; but he had more pride than to beg for his life like a coward. Bigwig spoke.
"Holly, I don't want to have to kill you, so don't force me to. Now, if I loosen my grip, will you stay calm and listen?" Holly nodded grimly, "It's not like I have much choice, is it?" Bigwig removed his paw from his captain's throat, but still kept him pinned to the ground with his weight, in case the Owsla veteran tried to strike back. Holly gave his former fellow officer an angry glare.
"What do you have to say that could possibly interest me?" he scoffed, "You've already betrayed your warren and Chief over this human. What, you traitors will have me beg for my life, just for the satisfaction? Or are you going to use me as leverage against the Threarah…?"
"Our warren is in danger, Holly," Bigwig interrupted him, "Alan came here to warn us, but because those two miserable liars Toadflax and Scabious dished out some conspiracy story to the Threarah – and to you –, nobody believes him. So we've taken matters into our own paws: Alan has put the whole warren to sleep, so we can evacuate everyone while there's still a chance. Now, if you really care about the well-being of this warren, then I suggest you put your idiotic pride aside and help us. What's it going to be?"
Holly felt utterly repulsed that his best Owsla officer-turned worst enemy was actually defending this human. He, a proud and dignified rabbit with honour and status, would never dare rub shoulders with such an abomination! However, in spite of what most rabbits believed, he also knew Toadflax and Scabious were not the most honest of Owsla rabbits. Then, it also dwelled on him, why were they going through all this trouble of moving everyone out after putting them into this…enchanted sleep? Why hadn't they escaped at the first given opportunity? Finally, his curiosity got the better of him.
"You say Toadflax and Scabious made it up? But they swore they overheard you and your friends plotting against the Threarah – they named each and every one of you as part of it. And, don't deny it; out on the marsh, I overheard you myself saying that you intended to desert the warren and join him," he said, staring at Alan, "That alone is treason…!"
"And you heard us correctly," retorted Silver coldly, "We have every intention of going on living, and if my biased Uncle chooses not to believe his own flesh and blood over two lying idiots out to steal your captaincy, then we have no choice but to act without his consent."
At the mention of his captaincy threatened by two of his own rabbits, Holly felt taken aback. True, he was aware of Toadflax and Scabious' reputation of bullying and troublemaking, but never dreamt they would go as far as to actually try and deceive the Threarah – deceive him! Why, that was nothing short of high treason! On the other hand, how was he supposed to take the word of a human for it?
"And, pray tell, what makes you so sure that your friend isn't trying to coax you into doing his bidding? He's a damn ithe, Thlayli! His alleged good intentions don't prove his trustworthiness, do they?" Bigwig was about to retort, probably to say he'd rather take Alan's word over Toadflax's any day, when suddenly, a strange new noise from above ground caught their attention.
"What in Frith's name is that?" Silver gasped in surprise, his ears extended, "I've never heard any animal that sounds like that before…" But Alan felt his heart skip a beat as he recognised the familiar whooshing sound of a helicopter rotor. Someone else had made it through the warp – a rescue mission out searching for him and his companions! But his joy that it would soon all be over was short-lived as he realised the chopper was in trouble, judging by the familiar whirring sound of a failing rotor, getting closer and closer… With sick dread, he realised the chopper was falling out of the sky, about to crash right into the warren! Panicking, he jumped to his feet.
"Run for it! The warren is about to go up in flames. Run!" But it was already too late. Before they knew what was happening, the disaster was upon them. There was a violent vibration, followed by the deafening noise of crushing metal on wood, as the chopper tore through the trees above their heads in a crash-landing. The shockwave of the impact tore through the warren like an earthquake, compromising the fragile integrity of the runs and burrows, which were not built to withstand such a disturbance. Then the tunnel started collapsing all around them; loose earth and rock fell from the crumbling ceiling in torrents, as the whole warren caved in.
"Everybody shut your eyes and hold your breaths!" Alan shouted, quickly grabbing a handful of his shirt and placing it over his mouth and nose to prevent inhaling any of the asphyxiating dust and kneeling in a crouched position, his hands over his head. As he felt the weight of the falling debris pile up on top of him, about to crush him to death, it dawned on him the sheer irony of the great lengths he and his friends had gone to prevent all this, only to be killed in the very same disaster he had so desperately being trying to avert…
Meanwhile, Derek and Robbins had reunited with Hazel, Fiver, Pipkin, Hawkbit and Dandelion on a nearby hillside, dragging with them the still unconscious rabbits they had managed to evacuate in time. Derek had spotted the out-of-control chopper coming in to crash, and shouted at the others to get clear. Everyone had grabbed an unconscious rabbit each and run for their lives. Not a moment too soon, the chopper had come down like a falling meteor, ploughing its way across the meadow, and slamming into the warren like a rolling bowling-ball of disaster.
They all turned to look back in the direction of the warren; although, by a complete stroke of luck, the chopper hadn't exploded on impact, it was no less catastrophic. The group watched in horror, as the surrounding trees tilted and collapsed, as the ground beneath, honeycombed with unstable tunnels, caved in. In less than a minute, it was over; Sandleford Warren had met the same fate as the San Jose mine in Chile, with Alan, Bigwig, Silver, Holly, and several others who hadn't made it out in time, entombed inside it.
They all felt their hearts sink; there was no further doubt in anyone's mind that Alan's warning of Sandleford's destruction had been correct. Although his efforts had saved a great many lives, it had come at the cost of his own – and those who'd chosen to help him in this endeavour. Derek sank to his knees in horror…
Author's note: Originally, the savage humans of the future attacked, forcing Alan and Derek to use their advanced 21st century skills to improvise defence. In the end I decided to have it destroyed from McEwen's rescue chopper. Enjoy and please review!
