Flight of the Gazebo

Chapter 8 - Welcome Committee

The last thing he saw before he passed into blessed unconsciousness was what looked like an enormous brown wombat bouncing towards him on stubby legs.

******

Once more Drome awoke to a world of aches and pains. His entire body felt like an overused punchbag, and it was with some reluctance that he forced open his eyes. His vision swam in and out of focus, but he saw that he was in a room with walls of stone and a heavy door.

And he was warm. Deliciously warm.

He raised his head and instantly regretted it. The room spun, and he dropped his head back. It hit something soft. A pillow? He smiled.

He didn't mind when the pillow moved and a hairy hand reached over from behind his cycle helmet and patted him on the chest.

Oddly comforted, he slid back into sleep.

******

Voices drifted into Drome's mist-filled head.

"It's waking up," said a voice from somewhere near his feet.

"Ugh. Don't go near it. It's probably diseased," said another.

"Don't be dramatic. Hollow sorts out things like that."

"Mostly."

"I grant you there are a few exceptions, but they're extremely rare."

"I'm only saying we should be careful. Hem."

Drome recognised the voices. They were the one he had heard in his mind when he had been in the grip of the force that flown him through the air. He tried to slip back into the mist, but reality has a nasty habit of intruding, and sleep fled.

"Hulger doesn't seem to mind," said the first voice. "Look at him holding on to the alien like it's one of his revolting offspring."

Drome opened his eyes and looked down the length of his body. There was the end of a brown, hairy, rolled-up rug draped across his midriff. It felt pleasant and warm. Below the rug he saw he was still dressed in his cycling gear, but the bright colours were looking a shade muted under the layers of dirt.

Past his feet were two creatures, one of whom had a body that resembled a twig insect on steroids. Its head was like an anaemic, tufted parsnip with a pair of large eyes. It was about seven feet tall and had four bony arms that were folded across its chest in a rather complicated looking arrangement. The other creature was two-thirds the first's height, with two short spindly legs and two arms protruding from a pear-shaped body. Its blue-grey head bulged up from the body without the benefit of a neck, blending into a broad face with three eyes - the central one larger than the other two - no nose and a wide, down-turned mouth. Both creatures were dressed in gaudy embroidered gowns and the shorter of the two wore a tall, black, round-topped hat that bent forward like a banana. It also carried a slender, black rod which it pointed at Drome.

His experience with Voormama's staff made Drome very wary of that rod. His insides congealed.

"Hulger, get our hostage the food and drink you've prepared," said the short creature with the tall hat. "It would be too bad if it went and died on us."

Drome looked around to see who the alien was talking to. He was in a medium-sized room with walls of stone. A stout wooden door was half open, and seemed to open into a corridor of similar stone walls. He couldn't see anyone else in the room besides the two strange creatures by his feet.

Abruptly, his bed shifted. He managed to utter a faint squeak before he found himself lying on a cold stone floor and looking up at a large, shambling wombat-like thing that was making its way to the door.