Pat Kelleher - The Alleyman

He took a great many to the nearby Gilderra clan as gifts, as Nellie determined they would need their help. The Gilderra saw this as a turn in their fortunes, for which the Ivanhoe and its crew were responsible. The crew had killed the Dulgur for them that haunted the Nazarrii ruins, and now animal life returned to the area. However, so, too, had the patrols of Zohtakarrii chatts, in whose territory the tank crew found themselves. Although the patrols did not venture too close to the crater, or the ruins of the Nazarrii edifice, Napoo had no doubt that the chatts had scented them on the wind and knew they were there.

During their recovery, the tankers had meekly allowed Nellie to take charge while their senses returned to normal, only to find that, having been under her care, they now found themselves susceptible to her natural authority as a nurse. All except Norman. In his withdrawal, she had seen him exposed and vulnerable. She had seen beneath the actor’s mask that he chose to show the world. It embarrassed him, and he resented her for it.

“Why should we listen to you?” Norman asked petulantly. The tanker glared at her, his lip curled with bitterness, his hands shoved deep in the pockets of the dark blue coveralls the tank crew wore over their regulation khaki uniforms.

“Because she looked after us,” said Cecil. “Because those are our mates down there. And the Ivanhoe .”

“ Oh, Nellie, lady, be our mother! ” Norman retorted in a sing-song tone.

“Leave the lad alone, Norman,” said Jack.

“Cecil’s right,” said Nellie. “We’ve been sat up here for nearly a week. We’re not going to give up on them, or the Ivanhoe .”

“Says you, but how are we supposed to get down there?” said Norman.

Nellie sighed. “The Gilderra have vine rope. We have been trading snarks for rope while you have been… recovering.”

Realisation dawned. Wally stepped forward to hug Nellie, but caught sight of the look in her eye and thought better of it.

“We can really do this?” asked Cecil.

“Yes, we can,” said Nellie, with relief.

Napoo scowled his disapproval. His only words on the subject were the last warning Chandar gave them regarding the Croatoan Crater. “Nothing must enter, nothing must leave.”

THE NEXT MORNING Nellie looked out across the wide expanse of the crater. The morning sun was just beginning to light the lip of the far side. The alien sun steadily devoured the crater’s shadow, raising a curtain of vapour that swept towards them, like a creeping barrage of mist.

It took three of the crew to drag the thick vine rope to a sturdy tree. They hauled it round the trunk and struggled to tie it securely.

Jack braced his foot on the trunk and gave the rope several violent jerks. The knot tightened and held. He gave a satisfied grunt and followed the rope back to the coiled mound by the crater’s edge.

Despite his misgivings, Napoo had been charged with Nellie’s safety and had made rough sacks to carry food supplies, amongst which were dried snark meat, fruit and a little edible fungus. There were also several gourds of water. Napoo had his knife, Jack, Wally and Norman had their revolvers and Cecil and Reggie carried a couple of Enfields left by Atkins and his men.

“So,” said Reggie, looking round at the others. “This is it. Do or die.”

Wally took a deep breath. “Well, I wouldn’t have put it quite like that.”

Napoo’s hand clasped Nellie’s shoulder. “You should not do this.”

“Napoo. Our friends are down there. And there are supplies in the tank, guns and food that we can use.”

She took hold of the vine rope, heaved a loop of it from its coiled bulk and dropped it over the edge. The rope unspooled under its own weight with a speed she didn’t expect. Seconds later, it snapped taut from the tree.

“Well, I was expecting to say a few words before we launched it,” said Norman with a sour face.

Nellie sighed with relief and brushed her hands against each other. “Well, it’s done now. I’m sorry.”

“No need to stand on ceremony, then,” said Jack brightly. “At least you saved us that. Norman’s speech would have turned into an oratory anyway.”

Norman gave him a petulant sneer.

“Well, I ain’t going first,” said Cecil.

“Manners dictate ladies first,” said Reggie, “but in this case I don’t think it wise.”

Jack stepped forward. He had been a boxer and was by far the heaviest of the crew, his brawny frame filling his coveralls. “I’ll go first,” he volunteered. “If it takes my weight, the rest of you’ll have no excuse.”

“At least we’ll have a soft landing if it doesn’t,” said Wally with a grin.

They clustered at the edge; Nellie looked along the crater lip to the place where the tank tracks ended and then dismissed them, focusing her eyes on the rope, almost aa thick as her wrist, that hung over the edge.

Jack took the rope in both hands and stood with his back to the lip.

“Cecil, you next; then Norman, Wally, then Reggie.”

“Why does Reggie get to go last?” asked Cecil.

“Because he’s got manners,” said Jack.

“Manners?”

“Yes. He’s a gentleman. He won’t look.”

“Look where?”

“Up.”

“Up?” Cecil looked at Nellie. “Oh!” Jack clipped him round the back of the head before the growing leer could smear itself across his face.

Nellie, although quite used to the company of men, blushed and averted her eyes. So used to being treated with filial affection, she often forgot her feminine aspects. It was sometimes a shock to be reminded of them, and her brothers had the bruised arms to show for it.

“Nellie, you next and Napoo can come down last. We’ll secure a position below,” Jack told her.

He walked backwards, feeding the rope through his hands until he got to the edge. He leaned out slowly and began to walk down the steep camber of the rock face.

“It’s like Jack and the beanstalk, ain’t it?” said Cecil.

Nellie watched with dread. All of a sudden, she wasn’t sure she could do this. But she had committed them to this course of action. She couldn’t back out now, could she? For a brief moment, she thought of falling back on her womanhood for an excuse, and instantly despised herself for it. Of course she could do this. She could do anything they could do. And what’s more, she bloody well would.

One by one, the men disappeared over the edge. She fixed her eyes on the rope. It jerked spasmodically as if it had a life of its own.

Nellie wiped sweaty palms on her skirt.

“Do not look down,” Napoo said gravely.

She turned her back to the edge and grasped the rope as she had seen the others do. One foot after the other, she took hesitant steps backwards until the ground gave way beneath her heel.

From below, she heard Norman yell out “Rock” as something careened down the crater side, impacted with the scree slope and skittered down into the jungle.

Her face creasing into a frown, she stepped backwards. Her breath came in short, sharp pants. Inside she was screaming. She bit the inside of her mouth hard, to stop it from escaping.

Planting one foot below the other, she slowly fed the rope though her hands as she stared at the crimson rock in front of her. She could hear Napoo climbing onto the rope above her.

As she descended the near-vertical wall, the panic and terror within transmuted into exhilaration. She was doing it. Carried away with the audacity of her actions, she glanced down, and immediately wished she hadn’t. The ground seemed so very far away.

When she couldn’t move, she started to panic, only to realise that her skirt had caught on some thorny shrub clinging to the crater side. With every inch she descended, her skirt rode up. She tugged at it in an attempt to free it, and the thorns held it fast. She tugged it again. The skirt ripped, and the momentum sent her twirling round in a vertigo-inducing spin, holding onto the rope by one hand. She managed to find the cliff face and braced her feet against the rock again to stop the spin and steady herself. It took a moment to recover her composure and, holding the rope tightly in both sweat-slicked hands, she continued her slow walk down the rock face. She had read of mountaineers doing this for fun. She couldn’t think why.