Wrath of the Lemming-men by Toby Frost Read Free Book Online Page B

welcome back,’ Smith said. ‘We’re all very happy to see you. Aren’t we?’
    ‘Oh yeah.’ Carveth nodded. ‘Look really close and you’ll see me jump for joy.’ Smith nudged her, and she added, ‘Nice to see you. Your room’s still as you left it. I’ve watered your pot plant, although a few of the leaves fell off. And got smoked.’
    ‘Cool,’ Rhianna said. ‘I’ll only stay here tonight, if that’s ok. I didn’t bring a change of clothes.’
    ‘Never stopped you before.’
    ‘So, what kind of show is it?’
    Carveth shrugged. ‘It’s a variety show. Old tradition of the native indigenous tribesmen of Britain. There’s dancing from other cultures, called the Can-Can, and then there’s some old general talking about bringing culture to the spiritual alien folk.’
    ‘That sounds fascinating,’ Rhianna said. ‘Will there be poetry?’
    ‘Does Roll out the Barrel count?’
    *
    In the dark of the auditorium, Smith felt alone. They sat in a box, looking across the tatty magnificence of the red and gilt hall to the stage and its faded curtains. The hall seemed to exude friendliness, as if its air was thicker and softer than outside.
    The show opened with mechanical cherubs descending from the roof and playing a fanfare. Then Lily Tuppence came on and praised the soldiers of the 112th Army for their victory over the lemming men. Once the cheering had died down she sang a song about moonlight, accompanied by holographic birds.
    Smith could imagine Rhianna singing to holographic birds, although probably as a result of self-medication, and hopefully not in front of anyone he knew.
    The main act came on: two sprightly young women in army jackets who sang witty songs. They were both pretty, and started off with a routine about a novice soldier learning army ways. They were joined by a man with a large, extrovert moustache, and all three broke into song:
    ‘I couldn’t get my pole to stand, so I asked a lady friend And she worked it back and forward until it was up on end
    I asked her ‘What’s your secret?’ and this was her reply,  ‘You’ve got to get the flagpole standing if you want the flag to fly!’
    Smith glanced to his right. Rhianna was at the end of the row, legs crossed, watching the performance with intense, scholarly interest. In the dim light of the auditorium she looked almost luminous. Her skirt had ridden up, showing an interesting expanse of ankle and calf. That looked delightful, thought Smith, and immediately there came the stinging knowledge that her delights were no longer his.
    The flagpole song reached its climax, and one of the girls sat on the man’s lap and jumped back up, to cheers from the audience. They looked like a fine pair, those girls, thought Smith, no doubt up for a bit of manly hi-jinks. He took out his rifle-sight, which he’d brought to get a good view of the stage. He looked left a bit, toward the audience – and a man stared right back.
    He was in a box nearer the exit: a tall man in black, with heavy eyebrows and the sort of moustache favoured by villains in silent films. He was holding opera glasses and as soon as Smith saw him he slipped them into his jacket and Smith spotted a flash of steel under his left arm.
    A gun. This armed man had been watching them. For a moment Smith thought of telling the others, of clearing the hall, perhaps, and realised what chaos that would cause. No: he’d have to take this fellow alone. The man stood up, realising he’d been seen, and Smith turned to slip out of the box into the corridor.
    ‘And now before the interval, Ladies and Gentlemen, be upstanding for Land of Hope and Glory ,’ a voice cried from the stage.
    As one the audience stood. The armed man froze, his escape blocked by standing bodies. Smith froze too, torn between the need to pursue this villain and the duty to sing the Imperial anthem. Music started, and Smith shuffled sideways as he sang, past a baffled Carveth, into the aisle and back towards