The Legend of Loxley Bottom 4

A new diary entry on hellsborough.com is coming soon:

Also known as "The Gabbleratchets of Sophie Hinchcliffe", this is a work in progress based on research that I have undertaken into the recent modern age of the history of Hellsborough under the rule of the nascenti. A local girl and simple shop worker, Sophie Hinchcliffe, who -- inexplicably -- becomes the first CEO of the DPDC -- that is the first Chief Executive Officer (the original boss, if you will) of the Dark Peak District Council, the local government that administers Hellsborough and The Dark Peak for the nascenti overlords.

Sophie is a major character in the forthcoming sequel to "Dark Peak -- Hellsborough Chronicles book one", so it is only right that I do the research to uncover her backstory, most of which I have gleaned from the local library in Hellsborough -- an awesome resource for research, because, as you would expect, those nascenti overlords want the populace here and hereabouts to understand the importance of local characters that have helped to define their rule.

It will be serialised here, as well on on Twitter/X in short form.

Read Chapter one, Chapter two and Chapter three.

Chapter four: Rescue.

I've got to sit down, I need to relax, I'm too angry. Naval raged inside his own head.

Naval was pissed and off his head on rockcrust. His frame of mind wasn't the best, to say the least. He slumped himself down on the bench outside the bar and pulled on his vipe, trying to calm his anger with a little bit of bliss.

Empty. No pull to be had. He swore and violently through the vipe into the gutter. Shaking, he controlled himself and realised -- No matter, it was an easy thing to rectify.

#### HMM::OUT('Need juice. Get me juice for me vipe. Mandarin orange.')

ask:: Oakey, Naval // stat:: accept[ok]__ // src:: 2001:0db8:85a3:0000:0000:8a2e:037g:7334 [loc::hellsborough//middlewood_road//4259]__ // now:: 79.rain-rooter.13.15.0.7.1

HMM::IN('..Order received, delivery 1m_

..50% Non-refundable deposit of 30¢hit taken__ Balance on delivery__')

Naval didn't have to wait long, as promised. Thirty seconds later a clown ran into the park, palmed him his order and disappeared as quickly as he had arrived. Naval didn't even have time to say thank you, Piers -- as that was who he thought it was, but the clown apparition appeared and disappeared so quickly, he didn't have the chance.

Between them, the nascenti, the fungai and the clowns have delivery sorted. In this world -- or the off -- sure, you can go into a shop and buy what you want. You can get a deal on a street corner, if you're in the right place at the right time and know your man. You can get a package delivered next day, maybe even today if you're lucky.

But you ain't going to get what you order from a park bench in thirty seconds, I can guarantee that much. Maybe you will, one day, but in Hellsborough capitalism is so advanced and fine-tuned that you can get almost anything your heart desires mind-bogglingly fast.

You can hardly blame me for staying here when I get this level of service can you?

#### HMM::IN('Transaction complete. Total transaction value 60¢hit.')

hits:: 1 // [this]2001:0db8:85a3:0000:0000:8a2e:037g:7334 [loc::hellsborough//middlewood_road//467]__ // now:: 79.rain-rooter.13.15.0.7.2

And that's the other thing. For the level of service, things can be extremely good value. 60¢hit that's around £6 in your money today -- as I write it's December 2023 in your world, so it's not breaking the bank is it!?

That's capitalism for you: Fast delivery and a great price!

Naval plugged in his new cartridge and sucked on that vipe pipe long and hard.

It relaxed him. He felt a sense of bliss as the chill Windstrom breeze of the murknight closeted him in his own melancholy.

Something stirred deep inside him. Something inside him said he needed to act. Maybe it was that statement by one of the other customers at the end of the night before they left the bar, about the gabbleratchets being abroad. That struck a chord.

Something's not right, things are not how they should be and now he's worried and feels foolish for the way he has acted and behaved tonight.

He'd been to half a dozen bars, all of the closest ones to where Sophie worked. Everyone, in each of them, well most of the drinkers at least, knew Sophie. It would have been really out of character for her to go into S1. Someone would have said something if that was the case. No. Sophie stayed in S6. Always. That was what they did. This was where they lived, this was their home.

And she was never home late, not without leaving a message anyway.

This was unusual behaviour for Sophie.

Naval finally came to his senses and realised the obvious.

Obvious?

The thought finally entered Naval's head that Sophie hadn't gone on a drinking binge with her work colleagues, that she hadn't decided to go into town by herself, that she wasn't having some affair with her boss or another colleague, that she actually wasn't out partying with anyone at all on this D'divi-foresaken night.

The realisation was that she had been abducted.

Then Naval started to panic.

He needed supplies he realised. He needed to mount a rescue mission.

Where had the gabbleratchets taken her?

What had the gabbleratchets done to her?

Where was she now?

What was she feeling?

Could he get her back?

The questions raced through his mind, bombarding him with feelings of dread and guilt. His throat was dry as his anticipation grew with alarm, distaste and reluctance.

There was no time but the present.

Naval didn't need supplies, he just needed to get after Sophie. But something inside him said that it would still be a good idea to pick up some provisions -- He would still need to eat himself, and Sophie would be hungry.

The Corner News was still open, he went in and grabbed some food pouches, they would do fine. His mind raced, there was no need for anything fancy, this was about basics, this would do, nothing fancy, nothing fancy, cheap and cheerful, quick and easy.

There'd be time for something more substantial when he got her back home. And then he'd treat her to a meal out. They'd go to that nice little tapas place on Bradfield road, he'd spare no expense -- she could have whatever her heart desired. He'd even stretch to tiramisu for dessert.

Naval knew Van Hallam. Everyone knew Van Hallam. He had explored in The Dark Peak, and that was where Naval knew in his head that he had to go now.

There were three main routes through the wisewood. The Loxley, the Rivelin and the Dun. He felt sure that Sophie lay in one of those directions.

But which one?

The bars were emptying now.

Which route? He said out loud to someone at random.

Which one what, fella?

Where did they take her? Where did the gabbleratchets take Sophie?

The Loxley, said one guy who heard his plea.

Yeah, alway the Loxley. That's always the direction the gabbleratchets head, said another.

They don't ever go down the Dun, the skewerwings hunt there, and the banks of that Rivelin, they is too muddy -- tis always towards the Loxley pond that them gabbleratchets head, you should try there first.

Good luck young'en, tha's gonna need it on a neet like toneet.

Naval sucked on his vipe pipe, trying to regain his senses. The murk was suddenly thicker than it had been and the drizzle started again, getting heavier and heavier. Then the wind got up, blowing stuff about hither and thither; wailing through the streets like a mourning murk wraith.

Before long, Naval was soaked to the skin, his clothes sticking to his skinny frame like muck thrown at a window in a storm.

He had a destination -- he would go into the wisewood. He had to. It was his ony choice. he knew that no-one entered the wisewood, but he wasn't scared.

Van Hallam had been through the wisewood. He had met demonspawn and D'divi knows what else, but he had survived.

Naval looked around, he looked within, he looked up.

He longed for a source of light, a sense of lightness, as he began to climb out of that well, thumb by painful thumb. But the rain just lashed down and the wind howled like a ripperthroat on the edge of madness.

It felt heavy, the air, the murk. But he remembered —- he remembered he was not alone in this brokenness. Not alone in this anger and angst and disappointment —- he had Sophie's spirit to help him through -- her pretty laugh, her sweet smile. The thought of her drew him forwards, pulled by her attraction.

That was when he understood he had to do everything in his power to get her back, despite the risks of the wisewood.

The wisewood it can't be that bad? Can it? Surely not...

In other news, Hellsborough Chronicles book one “Dark Peak” is now available on Kindle and paperback.

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Cheers, until next time,

Pip :)

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