The motortrike carrying the search and rescue party, consisting of Alan, Bigwig, Hazel, Fiver, Hawkbit, Dandelion and Derek, sped across the snow-covered countryside in the dark of night, heading towards Lord Brock's Wood. The jury-rigged vehicle's two spotlights, mounted on a stand fashioned out of old steel piping, revealed a deserted landscape overrun by snow, ice and darkness up ahead.
In this future age, paved roads were entirely non-existent, save for a few rudimentary dirt paths the colonists used, none of which were even visible in this winter snow. Driving in this world was a question of simply learning through experience how to navigate around obstacles like trees or rocks by sight, whilst best using your judgement to avoid any unseen hazards like marshes, potholes and fallen logs that could immobilise the motortrike. Due to the absence of road signs, the only way to find your way around was either by compass or familiarity with the terrain. In broad daylight and during good weather conditions, an experienced tracker could manage; but in this weather and at night, without a compass and a good knowledge of astral navigation, combined with Bigwig's Owsla's own tracking skills, they'd be lost in an instant.
Lord Brock's Wood was engulfed in a thick winter fog, turning the forest an eerie, dark place, where danger could be lurking unseen behind every tree. Meanwhile, on the northern horizon, the blizzard was moving in faster than they had estimated. If they couldn't find Sam in time to make it back, they'd be in trouble. Alan was half-tempted to turn the thing around and head back to Watership Down and forget it altogether, but he just couldn't anymore - he had to find out who that mysterious Sam was.
In the back, Hazel and the others sat under the vehicle trailer's tarp canopy, trying to keep warm by the heat of the burning gasifier stashed in the back with them. With the exception of Hawkbit, who was complaining to Dandelion how they'd miss Frith's Eve on account of some stupid escapade, or else get lost and freeze to death out here, they all sat in silence, wondering what they'd find out there.
After a while of bumpy driving through the trees, they reached the shore of the lake in the heart of the forest. Like a massive crystal mirror, almost a quarter of a mile across, the frozen-solid surface of the lake was still as a mirror, reflecting the moonlight and allowing them better visibility of their surroundings. Stopping the motortrike on the icy shoreline, the rescue party disembarked.
"This is the spot, lads," said Alan, checking the brief description Sam had given him over the radio against that on his map. But there was no sign of any downed glider anywhere, "Now, where could that girl be...?"
"Well, it looks like there's nobody here," groaned Hawkbit, all but keen on searching around in this cold, "I say it's time we got back..."
"I'll tell you when it's time to go back, Hawkbit!" growled Bigwig, clearly tired of Hawkbit's complaining, "In the meantime, you just keep your big trap shut, unless you'd rather I cuffed it shut for you!" Hawkbit swallowed his tongue, fearing a beating, but continued to glare daggers at his Captain of Owsla.
Alan shone his flashlight across the lake, onto the trees on the far bank. The place appeared quite deserted; no sign of a crash site, no movement, nothing. Cupping his gloved hands around his mouth, against all Owsla safety regulations, he bellowed into the night at the top of his voice, "Hello! Anybody out there? Hallo, Sam!" No one answered him. No voice calling for help, no signal flare, nothing. Raising his shotgun, he fired a shot in the air. Silence. He felt his heart sink; the lack of any response probably meant they might be searching for someone who was already dead, or otherwise in no condition to be rescued.
"Shut up, you fool!" Bigwig hissed reproachfully at Alan, "You'll bring all the elil in the forest upon us!" Alan ignored Bigwig and turned to Derek, "Deke, what have you got on the walkie-talkie? Do they hear anything back at base?"
"Hotdog says there's no one on the air but us," replied Derek, shaking his head. And there was further bad news, "He's got a new weather update: the storm's moving in faster than we thought. The blizzard is expected to hit us in less than an hour." Alan frowned; being caught in one of those things would leave someone lost and disoriented, with the likelihood of freezing his corneas if he stared into the icy wind and with the prospect of death by hypothermia from the sub-zero temperatures. Best he could figure, it had taken them around forty minutes to get here; it would take the same amount of time to get home, barring the possibility of any accidents on the way to stall them. That left them with no more than twenty minutes at most to find that girl and get out of here.
They followed the shoreline, the rabbits sniffing around for any human scent in the snow, but finding nothing whatsoever. If they were looking in the wrong place, then that woman could be anywhere. Then, suddenly, Bigwig, who had the best tracking skills of them all, found something – something that was only bound to give them further cause for concern.
"Elil," he muttered gruffly, sniffing at some fresh animal tracks in the snow, earning several gasps from his friends. Looking more closely, Alan saw it wasn't just any elil they were dealing with; this was far, far worse: a wolf! Contrary to popular belief, most elil like the homba or the lendri, although they didn't hibernate, remained pretty inactive during winter, going out only on brief, solo hunts in the vicinity of their dens. Wolves, on the other hand, were always on the move during winter, hunting in packs led by an alpha male, and capable of bringing down even the largest of prey. Back in the 21st century, a trained hunter with a gun could handle a pack of wolves if the numbers weren't too overwhelming; but in this future world, where animals grew to nearly twenty times their normal size, it would take nothing less than a battery of heavy artillery to take out an entire pack of those mangy, hungry monsters.
Looking in the snow, they could see the tracks of many more wolves all over the place. It seemed not just one, but an entire pack of those bloodthirsty beasts, had passed through here, very recently too. This wasn't good. Bigwig thought so at least as he prepared to order his Owsla to abort mission, when suddenly they heard Fiver, who had wondered off, following his trusty sixth sense, calling to them.
"Over here! I found something!"
Hurrying over to the runty seer, they saw he had found a chunk of splintered plywood, which they recognised as part of a motor glider's shattered wing. At last, they had found a sign of what they were looking for! His hopes renewed, Alan got on his radio and informed the lodge, "Alan to Watership Base. Be advised, we've located a fragment of wreckage on the south-eastern shore of the Great Lake, about three miles from the edge of Lord Brock's Wood. We'll continue searching for as long as we can. Any updates on the weather?"
"No, Dad, storm's still headed your way. No shift," said Lucy's voice on the other end, "You and Uncle Hazel please hurry!" Although she wasn't known to panic easily, it saddened Alan to hear his daughter sounding so worried. However, this was part of his job; both he and Hazel, as respected leaders of their community, had big responsibilities, some of which involved dangers such as these.
"We will, sweetheart. Don't you worry about your old man," he said, sounding more optimistic than he actually felt at the moment, "We'll be back in a jiffy and we could use a hot cup of char when we do. Over and out."
"So where do we look from here, Alan?" asked Hazel, also beginning to long for Hyzenthlay and his daughters, whom he knew were waiting back at the Honeycomb, probably worried sick about him and Fiver. Alan stared at the chunk of wing and then at the sky, gazing up at the slowly dimming Aurora-like time warp in the distance, thinking. That glider couldn't have broken apart in mid-flight, or else it would have been scattered in a thousand pieces all over the countryside. If Sam was able to send that signal, then it must have come down intact. So where was it then? In which direction should they search?
Taking out his trusty Bowie knife, a gift from his late father Jack, and aligning it with the warp, holding it horizontally by the blade, he was able to determine the general direction in which the glider must have been moving when it came in to land. He pointed to a patch of trees on the far side of the lake, "There! That's where it is. Let's go!"
They approached the water's edge, hesitating. The lake was frozen solid, turning the surface into a sheet of ice that could be trekked on – but whether it was as safe as it looked was another story. After living in this world for nearly four years, Alan knew that there were too many ways of getting yourself killed out here, unnecessary risks being top of the list.
"Do we have to cross here, Hazel-rah?" asked Dandelion, also staring wearily at the ice sheet, under which they all knew was freezing-cold water, potent enough to kill anyone who took a wrong step and fell through the ice. Hazel didn't answer him and instead turned to Alan, who was the expert.
"There's no time to trek around it, chaps," said the man firmly, "Don't forget we're on a serious time pressure here. We have to cross or we can forget it altogether." It was about a hundred yards to the other side and no way of telling by sight whether there were any thin spots on the ice. Someone would have to cross over ahead of the others and find out. Alan was about to take the first step, when Derek stopped him.
"Hold your horses, Al, I'll go. I'm the heaviest; and you can do a better job of fishing my arse out of the ice than I." Alan wanted to protest but remembering a similar predicament he had narrowly survived four years ago, relented. If the ice could hold Derek's weight, then at least it was safe. Trailing a safety line tied around his waist, Derek carefully made his way across the ice sheet, step by step, feeling the ice beneath his boots as he went, for any signs of cracking. Once or twice, he thought he could feel it start to sag under his 170lbs-weight, but it held.
Stepping back onto solid ground on the other side, he secured his safety line around a tree and raised his flashlight, sending an okay signal back to his companions, "All right, come on over!" Alan's blinking flashlight from the far side told him his signal was acknowledged.
Not waiting for the others to join him first, Derek continued searching the shore for any signs of wreckage. Sure enough, he soon spotted some smaller fragments and a wheel from the shattered plywood fuselage lying in the snow. The debris seemed to lead into the trees, a trail of disturbed snow and broken trees' branches marking the path of the crash-landed glider.
Strolling a few yards into the woods, he finally struck gold when his flashlight revealed the outline of the crashed glider, lying smashed-up on the forest floor. It seemed the wings had clipped the trees as it came in, causing the fuselage to go into a spin when it hit the ground, flipping it around, until it had come to rest in a bed of snow. It now sat upright, nose facing in the opposite direction towards the lake.
Shining his flashlight through the cracked windshield, Derek saw the face of a pretty young woman strapped in the pilot's seat, her straw-coloured hair stained with blood from a cut in her temple. Hurrying over, Derek saw she was pale and motionless, seemingly lifeless. Oh Jesus, he thought, We've arrived too late...
On the other side of the lake, Alan and the rest of the rescue party had finished roping up. Strung out on safety lines like a giant caterpillar, in case someone fell through the ice, under Alan and Bigwig's direction, they slowly made their way across in an orderly manner. Alan, Bigwig, Hazel and even Fiver walked calmly and vigilantly; Hawkbit and Dandelion, on the other hand, were skittish and nervous all the way, expecting the ice to give way at any second, much to Bigwig's annoyance at seeing two rabbits of his own Owsla cowering in the line of duty. What a dismal display!
Soon, they had reached the other side of the lake without incident. Alan tore off after Derek and soon caught up with his friend over at the glider crash site, the rabbits following close behind. Still seated inside her wrecked aircraft-soon-to-be-casket was the mysterious woman called Sam, whom they'd come to rescue.
Derek had already managed to undo the harnesses and parachute straps and removed her helmet so they could get a better look at her injuries. Shoving his friend aside and taking his gloves off, Alan pressed his fingers against the woman's throat with the expert precision of a Royal Marines medic, checking vitals and assessing injuries.
"Is she dead?"
"No, I've got a pulse," Alan answered his friend, whose face split into a large ear-splitting grin of utmost relief that the newcomer wasn't a corpse after all. But his friend's next words made his grin fade a bit, "It's very weak and dropping fast." Both their eyes darted to the girl's injured leg. They could clearly see the puncture wound torn clean through her right thigh, from where she had yanked the piercing splinter out, which was bleeding freely, flooding the floor of the glider. This wasn't good.
Alan hurryingly took off his belt and fashioned a tourniquet, which he tied as tight as he dared around the woman's thigh, cutting off blood circulation and slowing down the bleeding. She had already lost a great deal of blood and was well into the effects of exposure from the freezing temperatures. This wasn't something he could fix on the spot – if anyone could save this girl, it was Josie. Holding the belt securely, he turned to Derek and the rabbits, who were already preparing the stretcher they'd brought along.
"In my bag, get the first aid kit – I need bandages, tourniquets and the thermal wrap. Quick!"
Working feverishly, they bandaged up the wound best they could with bandages and applied a tourniquet, which would have to be slackened and retightened every five minutes, to retain blood circulation, until they could get her to Josie's infirmary.
With the bleeding somewhat under control, Alan got to work doing a thorough search for further injuries, even going as far as to pat the girl down in places any decent man would normally keep his hands away from. But this was different. There could be a spinal injury or some other delicate trauma that might require certain precautions to be taken before they could move her out. All right, no broken bones, no brain trauma, no further signs of haemorrhage. Aside from the leg, just a few superficial cuts and bruises and a marginal cut to the head, worst case scenario a mild concussion. They were good to go.
"All right, lads, all together now!"
With the two humans on either side, holding Sam securely by the arms and with Bigwig, perched on top of the fuselage behind the cockpit, pulling by her jacket collar, they lifted her out of the glider. Gently, their laid her down on the stretcher and wrapped her up in a space blanket to keep her warm. While Alan prepared her for transfer, Derek turned to collect the woman's meagre belongings and anything useful he could salvage from the wreckage: a weather-beaten backpack with a large hole burned in its side from a leaking battery, the parachute, a small survival kit and little else. There might be a few more useful odds and ends they could salvage, but that would have to wait till spring, when they'd have favourable weather conditions for mounting a proper salvage operation.
By now, the wind was starting to kick up, the snowfall thickening – the storm was almost upon them. Alan glanced at his watch; their time was just about up. It was time to go. With the humans carrying the stretcher on either end, the group prepared to pull out.
"Let's go! Come on, Fiver!"
Fiver was looking curiously into the trees, almost as if sensing something out there his friends couldn't, but Bigwig's shouting turned his attention back to his group and he followed suit. Unfortunately, nobody noticed the pair of gleaming yellow eyes approaching them noiselessly in the dark, attracted by the appetizing smell of fresh blood.
With Bigwig in the lead, Derek and Alan carrying the stretcher and the others picking up the rear, once again, they cautiously made their way back across the lake. They could hear the ice cracking from the added weight, but it still didn't give way. So far, tonight's escapade had gone without incident – but not for much longer.
Alan didn't even realise they had company until he heard Fiver's yell over his shoulder. Turning, he saw a large wolf, large as a lion, spring at them across the ice. The rabbits panicked and scattered in all directions, leaving Hazel exposed to the elil. Not missing the opportunity for some easy prey, the wolf came charging right at him. Hazel panicked and tried to run, but his old leg wound, courtesy of a humanoid's arrow back from when he and Alan had only just met, and which still troubled him to this day, made him lose his balance. Slipping on the ice, landing flat on his side, he saw the wolf charging right at him. Giving himself up for lost, he shut his eyes and covered his head with his forepaws, bracing for death. Goodbye Hyzenthlay, Primrose, Snowdrop, Gillia, Tindra. Please forgive me...
Seeing his friend attacked, Alan was about to go for his shotgun, hanging over his shoulder, but found himself quite unable to do so because of the stretcher he was holding. By the time he and Derek could put the stretcher down and grab their guns, Hazel would be dinner for that wolf. But Bigwig beat them to it; with a mighty battle roar, the warrior rabbit fearlessly sprang at the attacking wolf, tackling it to the ground and saving his Chief. Fiver, Hawkbit and Dandelion quickly dragged Hazel to safety.
The pair were soon caught in a savage fight, as one struggled to grab the other by the neck, using both teeth and claws. Unfortunately, this was putting way too much strain on the thin ice beneath them. Seeing the danger, Derek raised his gun to shoot the wolf but Alan stopped him, "Wait, no! You'll hit Bigwig!" Before the words had even passed him lips, the ice finally gave way, sending both wolf and rabbit plunging into the deadly, ice-cold water. They all gasped in terror.
Alan didn't hesitate; ignoring the risk of falling through the ice himself, he dashed over to the large hole, where Bigwig and the wolf had fallen through. He saw his friend's head break the surface of the water, his eyes wide from shock and pain from the freezing water. He desperately tried to drag himself out onto the ice sheet but his strength had already deserted him. Before Alan could grab him, he slipped back under, about to join his already dead attacker in a freezing, watery grave.
Oh no, you don't, Bigwig...! Ripping off his jacket and gloves, Alan fell flat on his stomach, sticking his arms under the water, reaching out for Bigwig. The bitter cold struck every nerve in his wet limbs like fire, making him have to fight the urge to pull away, leaving Bigwig to his fate. With the rabbits and Derek anchoring his legs down, he managed to reach down far enough to grab the drowning Bigwig by the ears. Pulling together, they dragged the mighty veteran out of the drink and laid him down on the ice.
Bigwig was still conscious, panting and shivering violently, the effects of hypothermia getting to him fast. Slowly, he raised his head, staring at them with an unfocused gaze, "Just a little wet, buckos... I'm all right... I only need a little rest..." But Alan knew better as he grabbed his anorak and wrapped Bigwig inside it, along with the second space blanket they carried, hurryingly drying him out.
"Don't you dare go to sleep on me now, you bloody bastard!" he barked in Bigwig's ear, "You pass out now and you're never wake up! You've got to stay awake, you hear? Bigwig!" But Bigwig's eyelids were drooping, unable to fight the pleasant sleeping sensation, which was death by hypothermia creeping up on him, much longer. They had to move fast.
With two casualties to transport now, it took a good several minutes delay, with Alan and Derek carrying the stretcher, while the rabbits slowly helped a staggering and semiconscious Bigwig along. By the time they'd gotten back to the motortrike, the wind was already howling with the imminent storm. Their mission time was well up and they were already cutting into their remaining travel time. Meanwhile, the vehicle's gasifier had gone out, which would mean a further delay. To make matters worse, trying his radio, Alan found the cold had killed the battery. No way to let their friends back on Watership Down know of their situation. Time was running out and they still weren't finished.
Placing the stretcher carrying Sam into the trailer, along with Bigwig, Alan turned to his remaining party, "Deke, you get old Humpty-Dumpty cooking again, on the double! We need warmth for the casualties and gas for the engine. I'm going to make one last search around, for any signs of our second missing friend Stonecrop, in case he's somewhere close."
"Wait, I'll go with you," said Hazel, leaving his brother, Hawkbit and Dandelion to keep Bigwig warm, while Derek worked to get the gasifier up and running again. They followed the shore but saw no sign of the second time-traveller who had dropped from the sky into their midst tonight. No sign of him anywhere. Wherever this Stonecrop had landed, he was on his own.
Suddenly, as if their problems couldn't get any worse, Hazel gestured across the lake in alarm. Alan didn't need his rabbit friend's superior hearing or sense of smell to spot the danger; the dark shoreline was dotted with dozens of gleaming yellow eyes, staring back at them through the darkness. The faint growling told Alan the rest of the pack of that wolf that had attacked them had finally found them. The eyes were moving across the ice sheet, heading straight towards them.
"Oh God... Come on, we have to go!"
They rushed back to the motortrike, just as Derek had finished getting the gasifier going again; piping hot, this rudimentary, but miracle-working contraption for renewable energy was producing combustible wood gas, which was being pumped into the vehicle's carburettor through a pipe. Alan and Hazel barely managed to climb in and the former to start up the engine, before the wolves reached their side of the lake. The motortrike sped off through the woods, with the hungry wolves in hot pursuit.
The rabbits and Derek shrunk close together in flight as they watched the wolves closing in on them – a dozen of those monsters, the size of full-grown lions, their evil eyes gleaming at their soon-to-be prey. Leading the pack was a ferocious alpha male, much bigger than their first attacker, going for the motortrike. In the driver's seat, Alan hurryingly put the vehicle into third gear, slowly gathering speed, his eyes pinned ahead. But the wolves were faster and had soon caught up.
"Step on it, Al!" shouted Derek, stuffing up the gasifier's burner with as many wood scraps as the chamber could take. The temperature gauge rose to full, the container threatening to explode if it got any hotter, "Put it into fifth gear! Fifth gear!" Grabbing Alan's shotgun, he shot a couple of the mangy things, before running out of ammo. Suddenly, the alpha male gave a spectacular leap, latching himself onto the back of the trailer, scrambling frantically to climb inside. Fiver screamed in terror. From his rear-view mirror, Alan found himself staring down the beast's open mouth, its blood-red gums lined with razor-sharp teeth, hungry for meat. But even in a moment of peril, the opportunity for saving yourself sometimes presents itself.
"Everybody heads down!"
Putting the vehicle into fifth gear, he drove under a nearby collapsed tree, lying wedged against the surrounding treetops. The thick trunk came sweeping over their heads, tearing off the motortrike's windshield, canopy, gasifier exhaust pipe, along with the wolf, who was swept off the trailer with the rest of the debris, leaving him impaled on a protruding branch for the rest of his pack to feed on their fallen leader instead. Slamming his foot down on the accelerator, Alan sped the battered motortrike off, hoping to have had his share of adventures for one Frith's Eve...
Back on Watership Down, Hyzenthlay was pacing anxiously around the Honeycomb, worried sick. After Josie had informed her that they'd lost radio contact, the entire warren had sat in anticipation, praying for the safe return of their friends. Nelthilta and Vilthuril sat nearby, sobbing silently, the latter doing her best to comfort her worrying children. Hyzenthlay envied them; while they had the freedom of shedding their tears of worry, as the warren's matriarch and co-Chief Rabbit in Hazel's absence, she had to be strong, not just for her own family, but for everyone.
Frith's Eve had come and gone only a short while ago and Frith's new cycle of seasons had started – but the beginning of this New Year, as humans referred to it, wasn't one of joy anymore. The entire warren sat glumly and silently, a few picking at the untouched feast, having lost their appetite. Outside, the blizzard had just hit and still no sign of Alan, Hazel, Hawkbit, Dandelion or Fiver. If something had happened to them, their chances of making it back in this storm were slim to none. Maybe they'd be able to recover the bodies when the ice melted in spring, assuming the elil didn't eat them first.
"Marli, when is parli coming back?" Little Threar asked his mother timidly. Vilthuril had to dry up her tears before turning to reassure her son, "He'll be back soon, darling. Have faith in Frith."
"But, marli," said Forest, "Sandwort says they've all been taken by the Black Rabbit of Inle...!" Vilthuril turned to frown at Sandwort, scurrying nearby with some of the other youngsters, for scaring his cousins with his big mouth. She would make sure to have a stiff chat with Clover later about disciplining her son.
As if reading her mind, Blackberry turned to face her with the truth, "Sometimes, Frith chooses for us to leave this world early. Hazel-rah and the others went out there to do their respected duty to the warren; there's no shame in dying this way – that's one valuable lesson the great Threarah taught us back at Sandleford many seasons ago, when we lost half our families to the White Blindness. Even if they're gone, their honour and friendship will always live on in our hearts, giving us the strength to carry on..."
"No, they're not gone!" retorted Pipkin angrily from beside Blackberry, "Alan promised he'd always be there for us and he won't break his promise now!" Under normal circumstances, Blackberry would have given the small buck a sound scolding for talking back to him with such indignity in front of everyone, but his sympathy won out. After all, he knew how much their ithe friend and protector meant to Pipkin, whom Alan had welcomed into his family as a youngster.
"Don't worry, Hyzenthlay-rah," said Violet, who had come to join the others, along with Bluebell, "Alan has always gotten us through much worse. They'll come home safe." Hyzenthlay didn't know whether to feel reassured or to cry; true, Alan had a reputation of getting himself and others out of scrapes, including his rumoured 'resurrection' during the Battle of Efrafa, to which most rabbits would yield, but he still wasn't Frith Himself, as some of the youngsters saw him! Nor was Hazel, for that matter.
"We aren't going to make it, Hazel-rah!" said Dandelion, as the rabbits huddled close together in the now open trailer, freezing from the icy wind and snow beating down on them, as the motortrike sluggishly made its way along through the blizzard. They had escaped the wolves back in Lord Brock's Wood, but now they were helplessly lost in the storm. They'd come back the way they came and still no sign of Watership Down.
In the driver's seat, unable to see five feet in front of him, Alan was driving blindly, with no idea if they were headed in the right direction. He had lost his compass and couldn't see any stars for orientation through this icy muck. For all he knew, they could be going round in circles. His hands quickly growing numb through his gloves, he could hear the vehicle's engine groaning and splattering, slowly chocking up from the freezing gas lines. Another few minutes and they'd be stranded in the middle of nowhere and left to freeze to death. This is probably how Captain Scott must have felt during his last hours in Antarctica, he thought grimly, wiping snowflakes from his glasses.
"I can't keep the gasifier going much longer, Al," called Derek from behind him, "How much farther?" Alan shrugged his shoulders.
"I don't know. I'll just keep us going in a straight line. It's our only chance."
With still no visual ahead and death only minutes away short of a miracle, he continued on, expecting to run headlong into a tree or over the edge of some canyon and that would be the end of it. He thought of his short-lived happy life on Watership Down with his rabbit friends; he thought of his happy times with Josie; he thought of Lucy, growing up so full of life in this new world, learning to live in harmony with the lagomorphs who shared the earth with them in this new age... How he wished he could be there to watch her grow into a responsible girl who'd continue his work of peaceful coexistence between Man and animal...
While Alan was pondering on, what might be, his last thoughts, back on Watership Down, Lucy wasn't about to give up on her father yet. Being the daughter of Alan Johnson didn't just teach her courage, resourcefulness and love for those around her, but also the importance of never giving up hope when all seemed lost- something she had learned during her captivity at the hands of Robbins. One of the most important lessons life had taught her thus far was to keep trying, using any solution possible, till the end.
Figuring her father's party was somewhere close by, but unable to see the Down or communicate, what they needed was some way to point them in the right direction. A simple signal fire would be useless in this weather. So, enlisting her friends' help on this, the youngsters had slipped away and broken into Alan's lab, going through cupboards and drawers and taking out chemicals, setting their own backup plan in motion. Lucy stood at her father's worktable, carefully mixing up a crude, but highly flammable solution, normally used in starbursts – and in their case, to produce one gigantic flare.
"All right, just a little more sulphuric acid," she said to Speedwell Jr, who passed her the bottle, gripping it by the handle with his teeth. Following her father's notes, Lucy carefully added a few drops with an eyedropper and stirred the solution, watching it change colour as she did, taking extreme care not to miss a step and blow them all up. Dad will probably hang me upside down from the rafters for a week when he finds out we've being making incendiary bombs, she thought with a mirthless smile. Frankly, any disciplinary punishment would be better than burying her father.
Hurrying next door to Derek's workshop with the beaker, they took an empty oil-drum the colonists normally used for building signal fires and filled it with wood and cardboard scraps, which they then doused with the solution. Covering the top with a sheet of cardboard to prevent the formula from being ruined by the snow, they dragged it outside, placing a short distance away from the lodge and warren.
"Fire in the hold!"
Striking a signal flare on the side of the drum (matches were no good in this wind), Lucy shoved it into a small hole she had made in the cardboard lid and they ducked for cover. For a few seconds nothing happened and Lucy was beginning to think maybe something had gone wrong, yet dared not go back to the sitting time-bomb to find out.
BOOM!
Suddenly, the drum blew its top off in a massive, mushroom-shaped explosion, bright enough to be seen for several miles in every direction. Alerted by the noise and blinding flash, both humans and rabbits came running over to find out what was going on.
"Are you crazy, Luce?!" screamed Hotdog, hurrying over to douse the fire with snow and a fire blanket before it spread, while Josie and the does ushered the youngsters away, "Are you kids trying to blow us up?"
"Stop it, Uncle Hotdog!" Lucy screamed, before Hotdog could get the bonfire under control, "It's the only way to signal Dad and the others!" True to Lucy's word, Bluebell suddenly shouted, "Look, down there...!"
Close to the foot of the Down, the motortrike had finally stopped dead from the cold, leaving Alan's party stuck in the midst of the killer blizzard. The two men were frantically trying to restart the frozen engine, but without success. It seemed this was indeed the end of the road.
"It's no use, Al, the lines are frozen solid!" shouted Derek, trying to make himself heard through the roar of the blizzard. Alan didn't answer him as he continued tugging the cord of the motortrike's dead starter. They couldn't just give up now. Then, suddenly, as if their prayers had been answered, Fiver saw it.
"What in Frith's name is that?"
"Either someone just dropped a nuclear bomb or I believe we've found our way home, boys!" cried Alan joyfully, staring at the starburst, which was Lucy's flare. Judging from the distance, they were only about a hundred yards away from the foot of the Down – had they driven any farther, they'd have missed it altogether. But this wasn't the time to rejoice because they still had to make it up to the summit before that signal fire went out and they lost their bearings again. His hopes renewed, Alan turned to his friends.
"End of the line, chaps – we're walking from here. Everyone out and start walking towards that light! Hurry up!" Carrying Sam's stretcher with Derek, while the rabbits helped the freezing Bigwig along, the group ditched the motortrike, making their way uphill on foot, towards the dimming signal fire. It wasn't easy; the wind was against them, pushing their exhausted, semi-frozen bodies back. The rabbits shouted for help, but their voices wouldn't carry in this howling gale.
In one last desperate effort, Alan took a flare from his utility belt and lit it against his teeth. The red light shone brightly on the end of the stick as he waved it frantically over his head to attract attention. He could see half a dozen silhouettes of humans and rabbits alike running down to meet them. The next thing he knew, he was being helped along uphill by two people – he couldn't see who it was through his snowed-up glasses -, while someone else on the other end of the stretcher did the same with Derek. Behind him, he saw his friends were also being helped along towards the Honeycomb. They were safe!
Soon, the beautiful sight of the lodge came into view. Hotdog, Josie and Lucy helped him and Derek into the parlour, where they finally put the stretcher down. Lucy couldn't suppress a giggle at the sight of her father and godfather looking like a pair of walking snowmen, as they ripped off their wet coats and gloves with a vengeance and collapsing into armchairs by the fire, freezing and exhausted. Alan batted a mischievous eyelash at his giggling daughter; if he wasn't frozen stiff, he would have grabbed her and dangled her around. But he was spared from doing so, when an overjoyed Pipkin jumped into his embrace, almost knocking the wind out of him.
"You've come back!"
"There wasn't any doubt about it, was there, laddie?" asked Alan, playfully ruffling the small buck between the ears. God, how good it felt good to be home after yet another grand adventure!
Over at the Honeycomb, the rabbits of Watership Down all rejoiced as Hazel-rah and the others entered the warren, resembling giant snowballs with ears, but otherwise having returned safe and sound. Violet and Holly helped move Bigwig down to the warmest burrow they had, to let him rest. Luckily, the mighty Owsla rabbit had come through his icy dipping unharmed and would recover with some sleep and warmth.
Hazel lovingly touched noses with Hyzenthlay, the latter finally free to shed her tears of joy at her mate's safe return. Their daughters likewise lovingly nuzzled their father, who happily nuzzled them back, glad to be home with his family and still in one piece.
"I should have known Pipkin was right, parli!" Primrose told her father, slightly recoiling at the touch of Hazel's ice-cold fur. Nearby, Fiver was being playfully assaulted by his own overjoyed children, tickling him silly, while Vilthuril looked on with a smile, silently muttering her thanks to Frith for looking over her mate. Nelthilta and Hawkbit had barely exchanged a greeting nuzzle, when they returned to their usual bickering.
"You scared me half to death, you flee-brained sloth!" screeched the doe indignantly, causing Hawkbit to groan irritably, "Well, at least I didn't have to hear any of your big mouth out there, you babbling field-mouse!" Hazel rolled his eyes; those two would just never learn.
"So did you find that strange ithe?" piped in Tindra timidly. Being the youngest in the litter, she was the most curious and innocent of Hazel's daughters. The Chief Rabbit of Watership Down nodded at his daughter and turned back to his mate. He could explain to everyone about the human girl they'd rescued later; right now he had a spot of unfinished business with his beloved ones.
"Happy Frith's Eve, Hyzenthlay."
"You too, my love," replied the doe, happily nuzzling her mate.
"Jolly good thing you sent up that flare when you did," said Derek, still warming his fingers, which had turned red from the cold but luckily not frostbitten, by the fire, "I thought we'd freeze our butts out there...!" Josie meanwhile, satisfied that Alan and Derek were all right, was busy tending to Sam.
"She's a real peach, this one," commented Hotdog gleefully, staring at the girl, "Way to go, Deke, Al...!" Josie ignored him as she unzipped the girl's flight uniform, to take a good look at her leg wound. She frowned, "This will need a few stitches and a shot of antibiotic. She'll also need a blood transfusion." He gestured at the rucksack and the other stuff they'd recovered from the glider, "Is that hers?" Alan nodded.
"While I'm setting up the infirmary, I need you to go through that stuff and see if you can find any identity card or medical records. I need to know her blood type, allergies, and any other medical details you can find." Without another word, she and Hotdog picked up the stretcher and hurried the patient over to the infirmary.
Alan and Derek started going through Sam's rucksack and purse, not feeling particularly happy by going through their visitor's things without permission, and a woman's nonetheless. But this was an emergency, where formalities temporarily cease. They found some threadbare clothes, all ruined from battery acid, a cheap lady's compact, lipstick, a pack of smokes, a few books and some other personal effects, but no identity whatsoever. Even the flight uniform she had been wearing bore no label or nametag, the pockets empty.
"No credit cards, no driver's licence, no NHS card, nothing," said Alan as he went through the backpack, "No pictures, no letters, not even a passport. Curious..." It didn't seem like their guest had arrived here by accident, since she had brought her clothes and personal effects along – so how come she wasn't carrying any form of identity? Was she trying to hide something from them?
"I say, Al, look at this," said Derek, who had been examining the books they had found in the ruined rucksack. He handed Alan one that looked very, very familiar. Alan gasped as he recognised his old battered copy of Watership Down, with all his hidden notes on his first journey into the future, which he thought he had lost back in the 21st century years ago. So this is how she found us! A big piece of the puzzle had just clicked into place, which, although enlightening, at the same time felt terribly worrying.
Like Bigwig had pointed out earlier this evening, no one back in the 21st century aside from Dr Drake and Inspector Santon were supposed to know the secret of the future. Now, thanks to this little breadcrumb he had so stupidly left behind, the cat was out of the bag. Who else knew about this? Could they expect more, non-friendly arrivals to show up here? He grabbed Derek by the arm.
"Come, time to check on our guest..."
Author's note: Sorry about the delay, but I've had a rough semester at work. Hopefully, I'll be able to submit the next chapter much sooner. Enjoy and have a Happy New Year!