Coming Out Of Nowhere Drivin' Like Rain

It was dark - pre-dawn. The daytime birds were still asleep and the night birds had taken to bed. No crickets chirped. Phump rolled over on the sound of a footfall. Through sleep-filled eyes (and sleep-filled grey matter) Phump saw a ghost bending over Malc.

Phump jumped up and grabbed the nearest thing to use as a weapon. Stepping towards the apparition with a thick twig in his hand, held as a club.

"I warn you," He threatened the ghost, "Leave now or face the consequences!"

The white figure unbent slowly to its full height and held its translucent arms out. "Wooo!" It replied. Unfazed, our hero stepped towards the phantom and swung his makeshift club once, twice, thrice! The club passed through the ghost and, with each swing, it faded, weaker. One final (fourth) swing and the ghost was consigned back to the hells it came from.

Smiling to himself, Phump rubbed his eyes and promptly returned to somnolence,

Phump rubbed his eyes, yawned and then stretched to greet the new day.

"It's a hard life when you're on the run." He told the world in general, "It's worse when you have to baby-sit a weirdo like you.." He whispered to the snoring shape next to him. 'Mad' Malc made a noise like a vacuum cleaner that had swallowed a hamster and rolled on his back. This thought crossed Phump's mind and he crawled round to see if Malc had swallowed something by mistake - or worse on purpose.

Phump's nose was roughly three millimetres from Malc's when the older rabbit woke up. Malc screamed and jerked back, hitting his head against the tree they'd fallen asleep below.

That hurt so much he jerked his head forwards again, head-butting Phump on his nose.

Malc sat up rubbing the back of his head. Phump was running round in circles holding his nose, wailing "By Dose! By Dose"

---*---

"She was born in November 1963..."

The strains of Sheryl Crow's waltz come from an ancient radio being used as a sideboard. The music is the only sound we can hear, as we float through this small burrow into a bedroom where Cola has woken up with a look of pain and panic on her face. Her mouth opens as to scream and the little old doe rushes in.

All we can hear is the music - "Mama believed that every man could be free..."

The doe pats Cola on the head reassuringly then disappears from the room. She returns a few seconds later with a couple of young does in tow. They start organising "things".

---*---

We will rejoin our two bucks once they have regained their composure, well gained as much composure as they ever have.

Malc is singing, "This toooo-oown is 'coming like a ghost town."

"S'funny you singing that song," Phump rattled off, "but I was dreaming about ghosts last night. There was this ghost hovering over us as we slept." Phump smiled.

They walked round a tree and came face to face with two bucks.

They were doing a fair impersonation of a brick wall, each one held a baseball bat.

"Oooh!" Phump said, "Baseball! I've always wanted to see a match! Are you looking for players? I can catch well, and my friends, well they are nearly friends, you know, the people that don't tell me to go away, they always say that I'm good at running! What are you tugging at my arm for Malc? Do you want to play too? Is that practising? The way that you pat your hand with the bat? Does it take practise to do that in time with each other I bet you can hit the ball really hard if you practise like that *all* the time!"

Phump looked down at the two prone forms. "Did it hurt when Malc hit your heads together?" He turned to Malc, "Do you think they saw stars? Or birdies?"

"Tweet, tweet?" Malc said then turned away. Phump stepped over the stunned conies following Malc. He could hear noises - sounds like flesh hitting flesh, punctuated with muffed cries.

"I hope we're not interrupting something rude." Phump said when he bumped into Malc's back.

Malc had his arm out to stop Phump going past him. Phump looked over his arm.

In a hollow, just past their feet were five more bucks kicking and thumping a prone figure.

"That's Cadam!" Phump said as quietly as he could, "We've got to help him!"

Malc held his left front paw up, fingers spread.

"Five?" Said Phump, after counting the fingers.

Malc thumbed up, then raise his first two fingers, pointing at himself and Phump.

Phump counted. "Two!" he eventually said... "Oh," he followed, after another pause where he compared the numbers, "There's more of them than there is of us!"

Phump rushed down the hill and, at the last moment jumped into the air, impersonating Bruce Lee and Ali at the same time. Floating like a butterfly his feet kicked out five times. He landed on the ground as the bodies crumpled around Cadam. "Thank you my boy," Cadam said. Suddenly they were surrounded by a horde of kits singing songs about their Hero, Phump.

Phump's face burned with fear, how come it was so easy to think that you could be the hero? Why couldn't his body do what his mind, his heart, wanted to do?

Malcolm pointed over at the other side of the dip.

"What are those mice doing?" Phump asked, worried. There was a pack of mice, in leotards, in a rodent pyramid, five at the bottom row, and four standing on their shoulders and so on. The mouse at the top had a big silver star stitched onto his chest. Malcolm turned to Phump and shook his head.

The top mouse jumped to the ground, rolled himself into a ball and then tumbled down the hill towards the ruckus. The two mice below followed, then the three mice below. In seconds the pack had turned into a tide as fifteen small furry bundles rolled faster and faster down towards the conies. The rabbits laying into Cadam didn't see a thing, their attention fully captured by their rather one-sided war. At the last minute, before reaching the conies, the mice unrolled and flipped into the air, three mice aimed at each coney's head.

Phump was wide-eyed with amazement and embarrassment, as the mice surpassed his wildest fantasies. The rolling wave of rodents (try saying that fast!) quickly knocked the bullies out. Phump and Malc rushed down the hill as the head mouse helped Cadam to his feet. The mice turned at the two conies and took defensive stances. Cadam just recognised the two in time.

"They're my friends" He wheezed, "Friends..."

As Phump got closer he got worried about Cadam's shape. He appeared a lot blacker and bluer than he used to.

"Are you okay?" Phump asked as he closed, "You look awful! What were they doing that for that was really nasty there were another two back on the brow but we, well Malc, dealt with them. Why is the world so dangerous away from the warren, but I supposed you could say that its dangerous in the warren these days. Oh Cadam how are you?"

The old buck smiled through the bruises. "Slow down..."

The star mouse stepped between the two of them, "Hi!" He said holding a hand out, "They call us 'The Tumbling Mice'. We're with the circus you know!"

Cadam didn't reach for the proffered hand and so Phump took it and shook it. "Thank you for saving our friend, we were outnumbered on our own..." Phump was just about to start another Ben Elton (but not as funny), but Cadam managed to butt in.

"I think I can hear groaning from these bucks."

The star mouse nodded, "We should make some space between us and here." Then he motioned at the rise they'd rolled from.

Cadam accepted a shoulder from Phump to help him up the hill. Malc capered ahead and the mice swarmed all around as they headed up the rise.

---*---

"He pictured all the places, were he knew that she'd belong..."

Cola's head was bent back, her face a picture of agony as the midwife's eyes switched from Cola's face and down and back again. She mouthed reassuring words, Cola looked down at her and she seemed to gain respite from the pain from the comfort of the other doe's face and voice.

Around them the two young does seemed to be a blur of fur, mopping Cola's brow and rushing around with the ubiquitous damp towels.

---*---

Malcolm reached the top of the hill before the others,, took two steps into the woods and stopped stock still. The mice swarmed around him but Phump wasn't paying that much attention and bumped into the back of the stationery coney, knocking him half off his feet. Phump lost his grip on the older rabbit and Cadam fell forwards on top of an unfortunate mouse. Phump busied himself helping Cadam up from the ground and, after helping the old buck to his feet found himself in front of Malc. The mad bunny was staring, unmoving past Phump's shoulders. The mice had gone quiet.

Phump waved his hand before Malc's face - no response. He felt a tingling between his shoulder blades and turned slowly around.

Across the other side of the clearing stood a tall, white-furred coney. He was thin to the edge of gaunt and his fur was rough, wild and unkempt. He stood bolt-straight, holding a long-sword vertically, point to the floor before him. Both hands gripped the hilt and his forehead rested on the pommel. A gold band glinted through the short fur on his right forepaw.

He raised his head; his pink eyes slid from person to person and alighted on the stock-still form of Mad Malc.

He spoke - his voice was thin and reedy, "I appear to be late." His mouth twitched in a thin smile and he motioned his head towards Malc, "But not forgotten."

Suddenly the white rabbit moved, his sword swung high in the air and he rushed towards the group. Phump's survival instincts took him to one side, Cadam tottered after him and the mice parted like a furry red sea. Mad Malc's legs gave way as the albino rushed at him.

Music came from nowhere - "Past the arms of the familiar..." A flash of Cola's face in agony fills our eyes then disappears, the music stays - "And their talk of better days..."

With a wild cry the white coney leaped over Malc's prone form landing just behind him, Phump turned his head to follow and saw that two of the bully-bucks had followed them up the hill.

The pale bunny landed between the two and twitched his sword, biting into each rabbit and making them fall to the floor in agony.

We see the midwife's face - her concentration and calm oozing towards Cola. "To the comfort of the strangers..."

The white saviour glanced from buck to buck. One of the prone forms started to get up, - The sword dropped deep into the chest of that bunny, he screamed but that was quickly cut off. The second buck was in a bad way but attempted to crawl away, leaving a trail of blood on the floor.

Cola's face again flashes in front of us again - she is screaming in pain - but her eyes hold something else - love for her kits nearly balances off the pain she is feeling.

The albino stepped slowly after him. The injured buck's face was a picture of fear - he was used to hitting smaller animals that didn't hit back - the sight of the white avenger with his sword, wet with his compatriots blood struck seven-shades of fear into him.

The midwife holds a crying baby up for Cola to see through tears of pain and joy.

The white rabbit stepped on top of the prone buck and swung his sword. It took a swing to shut the coney up, but two more to sever the head.

The midwife holds another kit up and Cola's face beams in a glow of ecstasy.

Two more of the bully-bucks appeared over the rise, then stopped, aghast at the sight before them.

The music begins to fade.

The white rabbit bent down, picked up the severed head and bowled it at the next two bully bucks.

"Here, catch." He said with a grim smile.

The bloody head nearly reached their feet before they turned and raced away.

Phump was both amazed and revolted by the sight of the two dead bodies before him. Then his eyes alight on the blood and his stomach churned.

The white rabbit bent down and wiped his sword clean on the grass. Then turned back to the shocked troop behind him. "You need protection?" he wheezed, his voice sounding weaker than Cadam's. Phump wiped his face clean and stood up. Malc was attempting to stand up. Cadam took charge.

"Thank you, young sir, we would appreciate your aid." He said holding his hand out for a shake. The white rabbit looked at the paw for a second then ignored it.

"Madison." He said, walking past Cadam.

"Pardon?" Cadam asked.

"You can call me Madison." The white rabbit said, "We should be moving from here, they probably have friends and I'd rather only face one or two at a time." He turned to face the mice, "They call you the Tumbling Mice yes?" The star mouse nodded. "Go that way, make lots of tracks and don't stop for at least three hours." Madison pointed to the east. He then turned to Cadam and pointed at Malc, sitting on the floor shaking his head in a daze. "Someone wake Malcolm up. We need to move."

He stepped off westwards, took a few paces then turned back, "Well?" He said to the bucks in general then stepped off again.

Phump went to Malc and helped him to his feet. Malc shook his head and mumbled incessantly to himself.

Cadam tried to egg them on to follow Madison as quickly as possible. Music came from nowhere -

"She smiles the secret smile, because she knows exactly how to carry on..."

---*---

The music fades completely away.

Cola is sitting up in a comfortable armchair, holding a pair of kits in her arms. The aged doe walks into the room with a tray of tea and biscuits and sets them on a table next to Cola.

The two does smile at each other. The two kits suckle noisily at Cola's breast.

"Have you decided?" The old doe asks.

Cola nods and points at one of the babies, its possible that this one is slightly larger than the other. "This is Gorden," She looks at the other, "This is David." She smiles up at the doe, "Thank you for everything, Orla."

"My pleasure," Orla says, pleased that we now all know her name, and gently strokes first Gorden's head then David's.

The music fades in as the picture fades out.

"So run baby run baby run baby run..."