Jackanory - Chapter Nine

CHAPTER NINE

The raid on Splurbeck Close was the talk of the area the whole summer
long and even on into the Christmas and New Year people still told
tales of bravery and acts of heroism by their men of honour. The cold
New Year came and went with the wet months of February and March not
far behind. Small bands of two or three rebels from each side attacked
each other on odd occasions but not with such ferocity as last summer's
raid. It was just small jibes to let each other know that the hatred
was still alive.

As the summer months arrived once more and the residents of Greys Wick
prepared for action, it all went quiet. There were no attacks by small
bands late at night or even early morning dawn raids so it was decided
to send a party of three to spy on Jack's new headquarters and see what
was going on.

Maurice and Clint prepared for their small forage into Wellord.
Provisions to last those two or three days were packed into the
backpacks and they were off. Chuck was keen to go with them but it was
decided that he would stay and take charge if any attacks were made
while they were away. Not that there would probably be any attacks but
as Maurice had pointed out that Chuck would not be able to just watch
and listen to what was going on. He'd want to jump in and slaughter
anyone that passed by.

As Maurice kissed Grisle goodbye she squeezed him extra tight and told
him to be extra careful this time and not get shot again. His shoulder
still ached on cold damp morning where that bitch Hotlips had shot him
- he wouldn't forget that. Clint sat on a low wall in Maurice's garden
swigging out of a bottle of home made cider that 'two fingers' had
packed for him. "Ready boss" Clint slurred. "J-J-Juz kissin th-th-the
old b-b-bird goodbye" Maurice stuttered.

They made their way through the graveyard and passed the old grey
church with its tall stone tower and domineering gargoyles. Clint
looked up and was sure that they were laughing down at him - he looked
away. As they left the grounds of the church behind them they passed
over the hill into the woods that led down to Wellord. They had to be
careful as they travelled through the trees and bushes as various
mantraps had been set on Jack's order just to put off raiders from
Greys Wick making any further surprise attacks. Some had tried in the
dead of night and been caught pinned by stakes - a long and lingering
death if not killed outright. Some had been garrotted by wire traps set
across pits that when the victim was caught and tried to wriggle free
slid into the pits and just hung to death by dangling across the gaping
holes.

They made their way through the trees keeping off the main track
because the traps would obviously be set on these. The night air was
damp and as they crawled on the forest floor in amongst all the wet and
sodden leaves that seemed to just mulch up on to them as they scurried
forwards. The smell was worse than one of Clint's farts.
Well almost - but damp and moist all the same. Finally they reached
the end of the trees and were in the spot where they landed before
Hotlips and her band had reigned in the hail of bullets that seemed
like a hailstorm of hot steel around their ears. They moved sideways of
the clearing and dug themselves in between two conker trees, covered
themselves with a plastic under sheet and leaves so as to be not too
conspicuous. The night passed by without much happening apart from an
owl that hooted, a badger that sniffed their feet and tried to mate
with Clint's sock as it seem to smell like a female of its own
kind.

As the cold morning arrived and mist started to clear they could now
see the entrance to Splurbeck Close. Brick pillars a metre square stood
ten feet tall at each side and heavily armoured steel bar gates crossed
the void. They had a clear view down the avenue of Splurbeck Close and
half way down on the left hand side a new building stood where the old
one had before it was burnt to a cinder. This new building was made of
solid Portland Stone that was quarried out of the nearby prison at
Stonelands with a corrugated steel roof. It looked more like a tin
fortress than a home, but after the last attack they were not taking
any chances of a further raid.

Various people came and went throughout the day with deliveries of
food and armaments and building materials by local builders' merchants.
Other than that it was just another drab, dull day that could've been
anywhere. They lay in silence barely able to even twitch or wince
without fear of giving themselves away as they were right opposite the
new gates. There were two of them on guard at the gate checking people
as they came and went but other than that nothing much was happening
when all of a sudden one of the guards whispered into the ear of the
other. Then all of a sudden he shot across the road straight towards
Maurice and Clint - "My god" whispered Clint "The bastards spotted us".
"Keep s-s-still, p-put yer friggin ead down and shut it" Maurice
said.

We both held our breaths and waited for the attack. We were ready to
fight back and then retreat. Back through the woods would be too
dangerous with all the traps so it would have to be out in the open and
straight back up the main road as fast as our legs could carry us. I
didn't think we would make it but the woods was too much of a gamble
and we would never be able to get past all of the traps without setting
at least one of them off - with dire consequences.

There was deadly silence - the footsteps had stopped. "Jesus H Christ -
I cant wait any longer" a voice said. There was a strange zipping noise
and then it happened - a hot steaming jet of urine sprayed right across
the tops of us both. It seemed to go on forever until finally it
stopped. The zipping noise happened once more, and then the footsteps
pattered into the distance until they could be heard no more.

Maurice slowly raised his head - "D-dirty s-s-sonofa b-b-bitch" he
said. Clint just grinned and laughed - not too loudly. "We've been laid
here amongst this rotting mulch of dead leaves and you're worried about
? a pint of piss". Maurice started to grin as well - "well at least
no-one can accuse us of not taking the piss" he whispered to
Clint.

After their early morning golden shower they nibbled at some dry
biscuits and drank some water from the bottle, followed by a swig of
Jack Daniels from the hip flask to keep out the cold. The view down the
road towards the old workhouse was clear and anyone approaching could
be seen approaching for some time. In the distance a large old
fashioned car sluggishly made its way past the old workhouse up towards
the entrance of Splurbeck Close. As it stopped at the gate the window
wound down and a man dressed in black with a white collar snapped at
the guard to let him through. The guards fumbled in fear to open the
gates in haste to let the vehicle enter. The stern faced man in black
looked over his left shoulder towards the trees with a stare that could
pierce the hearts of any man. As he turned back and pulled forwards
through the gates and downwards on into the Close. The car sped down
and finally parked on the corner - the door swung open and a dark
menacing figure climbed out.

"Oh my god" Maurice whispered. "Who the hell was that" Clint exclaimed
and turned to face Maurice. "It's the Reverend Iain Maisley, the
minister over in Wezham". "Not a man to be crossed. He used to be the
prison minister at Stonelands but they asked him to leave as there were
many strange deaths during his stay there" Maurice whispered. "He's
also Jack's cousin, once removed. Something must be happening in Wezham
for him to be visiting here".

They laid in their burrow for most of the day until the Reverend
Maisley at last emerged from the headquarters, jumped into the old car
and sped out of the Close at high speed. The guards had seen him come
out of the building alongside Jack and had rushed to open the gates.
The vehicle sped towards them as they were being opened as fast as they
could possible move the heavy iron gates. The old car sped off in a
trail of dust and out of sight.

Maurice had seen enough and whispered to Clint "I th-th-ink its t-time
we mu-made a mu-move and headed f-f-for home". Clint had already
started to move on the second sa-sa-sylable.

The return journey back through the woods was fraught with danger and
Maurice nearly fell into a man trap pit that had stakes pointing
upwards in the bottom of it. As they managed to find their way out the
other end unscathed and over the top of the hill and into the safety of
the graveyard of the old grey stone church they sighed with relief and
just lay for a while against one of the old head stones. "That woods a
bloody minefield now" Clint said. "I think we best have a meeting
tomorrow after a good bath and discuss a plan of action" Maurice
said.

They parted company and as Clint wandered off down into the village pub
to sink a few pints of cider Maurice let himself into the back door of
his bungalow only to be confronted by 'Grisle'. "You bloody stink you
smelly ole bugger - straight into the shower for you milado".