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6M

p3

The Red Adders

By

Scardthomas

 

Word Count 183,0001

Synopsis

In June 1975, a young couple move from South London to a thatched cottage adjacent to a forest area in the county of Hampshire. The man’s sister joins them for a stay and she meets and falls in love with a bachelor who lives near-by. Their time together is complicated by, initially, the threat of, and later, the actual presence of the most dangerous snakes ever to have existed. The fear is made the more potent due to a history where a similar reptile caused several tragic deaths in the 1940’s.

 The principal character, Dalmar Hunter, is a thirty-one year old, tall, square shouldered man who earns his living as a personnel manager for a shipping firm. He has a contagious outlook on life and shares his home with a magnificent male, tri-colour collie. Dalmar is an amateur poet. His new girl friend is twenty-one, convent educated, with a charismatic personality.

 As the tale broadens, following some fatal attacks, international zoologists get involved, together with the media and officialdom. No one can fathom how the snakes have come into existence. There are three theories: unusual climatic conditions, witchcraft (a local belief) and finally, man’s interference with nature.

 

Chapter One

Arrival at Tambury - June 1975.

Britain’s smallest bird, the firecrest, from beak to tail a mere three and a half inches, was making its way upwards from the lower reaches of a six-hundred year old oak, through the bark of ages, searching for small insects as it progressed. The flash of orange feathering on the head stood out vividly against the two black stripes bordering it. A person would stare in wonder simply because this adorable creature was so rare. Most of us will never see one in a lifetime.

Not far from this tree, just a few steps over a gentle mossy bank, a young beech was trying to make a presence in the crowded woodland. By its side lay a thick mass of dead leaves several inches thick. The feeding bird ceased all movement and fixed a stare at this deposit of last season’s debris, which had fallen from the small tree’s mighty neighbours. The reason was simply because, in a soundless undulating motion, those leaves appeared to be moving. Immediately, with a sudden flick of wings - the firecrest was gone. It flew, in a low wave-like motion, before alighting on a fragile garden gate, at the back of a neat thatched cottage. Although a shy creature, the bird was not concerned. The dwelling had an air about it, suggesting that, at the present time, it was uninhabited.

 

A tall, square shouldered man, dressed in blue denim, was walking fairly quickly toward the main fire clearance that ran up to Tambury Church from the deepest section of the woodland. Many members of the fair sex would describe him as very good looking, but there was something else: a sort of physical charisma. What this was due to could not easily be identified. It had a great deal to do with his height and general physique - yes - but together with this he exuded a confident power of masculine fluidity of stride. Close to his right heel, pacing gracefully, was a magnificent tri-colour collie. They were both progressing soundlessly: the dog’s panting appeared to be relaxed and muted and the man wore buckskin moccasins. The first signs of dusk were descending and the fellow wanted to be back by the road before it got much deeper. In wooded areas the sunset shadows seem to approach faster than normal. Neither of them had had their dinner and the pangs of hunger were upon them: more so for the dog, for although his master had given him some biscuits to keep him going, he was still awaiting his main meal of the day.

 

What had kept them out later than usual, was a considerably longer walk than their normal exercise routine. The purpose of this was to catch sight of an area of the forest that had a grand growth of bluebells, before the blooms were passed their best. It had been worthwhile. Even the collie had stood for sometime, panting almost silently at the breathtaking spectacle. In the evening light, the slightly mauve tinge upon the predominant blue in the flowers had gone, and in its place lay carpets of mind alluring French ultramarine, under a broken canopy of young deciduous trees. The most vivid pictures existed where the sunlight penetrated through in streaky layers of transparent gold dust, as though spot lighting the stars of the show. While the dog wandered freely, the man, just out of young, in his early thirty’s, remained admiring the scene for some time. His alert, Pacific blue eyes seemed to be exploring every aspect perhaps mapping out something in his brain. At some stage he took a long menthol cigarette from a packet in his denim shirt pocket, lit it, and, periodically, blew puffs of tobacco smoke into the trees. He had one foot raised on a log; half obscured by bracken fronds, with the other firmly planted on the hard, excessively dry forest soil. When, eventually, he glanced at his wristwatch; his face showed marked surprise at the lateness of the hour.

 As their last pace propelled them along, the man turned a questioning face upon the collie for he sensed a sudden stiffening in the animal. The dog, still to heel, was cowering, with his head low and inclined towards the left side of the pathway, where a large growth of hazel trees had choked out everything else. Without stopping the man studied him. With twenty-five times more receptors than his master, the dog’s sense of smell had picked up a horrid presence. His owner would have no knowledge of this - non that that presence was causing great fear to his canine friend. “What’s up boy?” the man asked with concern, in a clean, relatively deep toned voice. But the dog just kept up the crablike walk. What was particularly noticeable was the lack of any audible growling, suggesting that the last thing the animal wanted to do was to attract attention to itself. They had reached the fire clearance before his stride returned to a brisk confident pace; only then did he give a reassuring lick to his master’s trailing hand.

 

Several hundred yards farther on, they were nearing the top of a low rise before the main fire clearance ran down to a large wooden five-ban gate by the road. It was about here that the collie liked to progress at a fast trot, attempting to encourage his master to do likewise, and they could sometimes be seen running along the track adjacent to that road, with the athletically built man constantly bending his knees and swivelling his hips over the undulating ground. At the same time he had to frequently lower his head to avoid over hanging young branches covered in beech leaves, which obstructed his path.

 Rounding a slight bend, the first of the two cottages on this side of the road before reaching the crossing leading to the Clayman’s Heron hotel, came into view. A light was cleanly visible in an upstairs window. Must be the new occupants, thought the man.                              

 Suzanne’s bedroom looked oven the woodland at the back of the house and before getting into bed, she could not resist leaning out of the open window and gazing absentmindedly oven the silver birches that stretched away in front of hen, finishing on a dank line of conifers that formed part of the main plantation. She was naked and a slight cool breeze, which was welcome, softened hen skin. All of a sudden, a strange noise interrupted the evening birdsong and silenced it at once. It was like an enormous hiss, but with the simultaneous addition of a lower note, making it feel sinister. It came from somewhere away to her left, towards the unseen church. Subconsciously, she thought it lasted for about five seconds. Then there was silence for a little while before the birds started to sing again. Suzanne wanted to go and ask her brother what it was, but tiredness and the inclination to leave him and his wife alone, won. She climbed into bed and instant drowsiness put the strange occurrence out of her mind.