Konsk. The Great Takeover of the Place.

34. Family gathering.

“And what may we call you?” asked Nonna, also closing in, taking both Trueman’s and Annest’s hands in her own and giving him a big smile.

Trueman, trembling slightly, remained shakily silent, lost for words. Unconsciously avoiding her face, he found himself staring at her chest and jerked his head up. She was still smiling but had tilted her head to one side. He took a deep breath.

“Some people I knew,” he managed, “Used to call me Troom.”

“Excellent!” exclaimed Annest. “Then we will, too.”

At that they turned and drew him on, Annest on his right, Nonna the left, retaining her hold of his hand which she squeezed gently though whether this was meant as reassurance or contained a hidden message, Trueman could not decide. Jodi moved easily aside to let them pass then followed in the rear. Thus the four made their way into the apparent confusion of what Nonna informed him translated roughly as the Big Phat Party Field.

As they moved through the crowd Trueman began to see an order in the apparent chaos. Pennants and banners provided foci for contingents from the various cantrefi, each depicted by a colourful symbol, such as a dragon, trees or simple shapes, coloured circles or triangles, even what looked like comedy vegetables.

They were arranged in sweeping curves around a web of access routes that networked the whole field, allowing hand carts and groups of people to move easily to their positions between the groups. As Trueman and the three women followed one of these pathways between the brightly painted poles that marked its edges, the surrounding masses would from time to time appear suddenly in profoundly ordered patterns, only to dissolve once more into chaos as they moved on.

Occasional announcements could be heard, the background confusion phasing out to allow a crystal clear voice to speak, sounding almost directly into Trueman’s ear in several languages before there was one he understood.

“People, people, this is your half hour call. Half an hour to departure. Thank you,” it softly warned.

Then another, “Mahooney Rist, you’re operating kit has been found and is now in the First Do No Harm apothecary marquee. Please collect it as soon as possible and don't just leave it lying around, again.” This was followed by hoots and catcalls.

“Will the keeper of the skewbald, cob mare at the east entrance please move her to the holding paddock before she eats the We Saw It First banner.”

After a few minutes the four stopped by a pennant that fair cracked in a gust of wind, revealing a simple gold band on a green background. Trueman looked at it carefully for some moments, struggling with his thoughts, then shook his head.

“What’s bugging you, Troom?” Annest had been watching him.

“I don’t know,” he confessed, forcing himself to continue with a burst of honesty, “I just can’t quite follow all this.”

Nonna put an arm around his waist and leaned into his shoulder. Her head, tilted upward a little, just reached his chin. Trueman was awash with embarrassment and looked about him in an attempt to avoid the feeling. The area marked by the pennant was only some dozen paces on each side and contained a cluster of crates.

“Don't worry about it, mate,” she said kindly, “You're not alone in that.”

Annest, on the other hand, put her hands on her hips, her head aslant.

“Don't you think its about time for some action?” she said. “You spent long enough just sitting on your bum in that horse drawn caravan getting a guided tour of the forest. Now we need to get things moving to keep the interest going! So let’s get ready!”

He started as someone tapped him on the shoulder. Turning, he found the woman Jodi observing him closely.

“Do you know what it will be like?” she asked, very precisely. He noted a black gap in her upper front teeth.

“A young woman, I met, Rhia, said that it would be dangerous,” Trueman answered. “Very dangerous.”

And there had been tears in her eyes when she had told him. He sighed. Though he had only been with her for a matter of days he felt that he had known her all his life. Remarkably, he longed now for the relative stability he had discovered while travelling with her.

“Then you know enough,” Jodi concluded and turned away.

The three began to open the cases, removing and selecting equipment and clothing. Nonna approached him carrying a bundle.

“You’ll need something more appropriate,” she said, thrusting them at him.

Trueman examined the clothes; trousers and top, light but sturdy, mottled greys and browns; presumably to match the landscape they were going to. He looked up and found her in the process of removing her own clothing, her head presently concealed within the blue top with which she struggled mildly.

“Earring’s got caught,” came her muffled voice.

Trueman directed his attention at the ground, realising with embarrassment that there was to be no changing room. He hurriedly stripped off his clothes and donned the new ones, pants and trousers first. At least the colours were less strident than that bright orange.

Nonna, now similarly garbed in mottled colours, tossed him a pair of boots and he sat on a crate to put them on. Then there were various belts and straps with pouches. Looking inside these he found a number of cellulose phials, what looked like cartridges, tubes of paste and, incongruously, a small rubber dog. Trueman gave Nonna a quizzical look.

“Rescue remedy,” she explained, “basic first aid, flares, emergency food and your lucky mascot.”

Trueman studied the rubber dog; it reminded him, rather disturbingly, of Learner’s mad beast back at the Little Big Farm. He put it away as though to banish it and took another long look at the pennant, the gold band on a green background. The sense of familiarity was even stronger and dimly in his head he could hear a gentle peeping.

He was distracted from these thoughts by a growing disturbance in the surrounding crowds as people began to cry and wail. Trueman gave Nonna a quizzical look and she squeezed onto the box beside him, thigh to thigh, shoulder to shoulder; there wasn’t room for him to move away.

“When we get there,” she explained, “We’ll need to think quickly and effectively. Yet we’ll find ourselves in experiences that’ll challenge our sanity. It’s better that the intervention posse unloads its distress, all the misgivings and fears, now, rather than try to deal with stuff like that when we’re out there.”

“Are we, you, going to,” Trueman began nervously, “do it, then?”

“We already have,” Annest was abrupt, coming over, making final adjustments to her harness. “And your fucked anyway, I mean, your an INCO.” She waved a hand as if in apology.

Trueman had heard that before and allowed himself a tentative question, hoping he wouldn't just sound foolish.

“And what,” he began, “Do you mean by that?”

“Incompetent,” Annest replied immediately with a smile.

“Incomplete,” Nonna offered more gently.

Trueman was unable to think of anything, let alone anything to say.

“A dick head,” this, flatly, came from Jodi.

“We can work on the move,” Nonna returned to the previous conversation. Her voice was low as she put an arm around Trueman’s waist, “In our own ways.”

“So what do you three do, then?” Trueman managed, almost squirming as she gave him a squeeze.

“I'm the squad medic,” Nonna announced gaily. “I'll do the patching when you get yourself blown up.”

“And I'm the boss,” Annest said. From the band around her forehead she pulled a patch down over one eye and thrust her face towards him. “You do what I say or you're fucking dead, OK.”

It wasn't a question. Trueman leaned back, gulped and nodded hastily. He wasn't going to argue with a scary, pirate lady.

No one spoke for a moment, then Nonna cracked out laughing. Beyond their assembly area, the other volunteers had also got into into laughter and were cackling and howling gleefully.

Trueman noticed that Jodi was running a small, hand held device through her hair. Large clumps of red tresses tumbled to the ground. With a start, he realised that she was shaving her head to the very scalp.

“Um,” he began, “I thought there was going to be a more military presence, soldiers, for protection?”

Jodi paused to turn to him, her prominent forehead made even more obvious now by the lack of concealing hair. Trueman thought with a shock that she looked more like a violent skinhead than a Trappist monk.

“I, my INCO companion and charge,” she said slowly, leaning in and her eyes like two dark wells, “Am all the protection you will need, for I am the the Last Resorts' foremost warrior.”

Trueman gulped, again. He nodded, meekly but she had not finished, leaned closer.

“And if you should prove to be a traitor in our midst and seek to try me, then I shall surely kill you where you stand.”

Thanks for reading. Next up, back to the Many Species of Coed y Brenin with Western Hemlock, the commonest conifer in Britain and poised to take over the world. Well, not quite but certainly capable of ruling over pretty much everything here, unless phytophthora pluvialis gets it first. Following that, energy use and all things net- how our browsing and net habits can screw things up. Gulp! Till then, hwyl! Chris