The Demucking Tower

Next to the lake, the tanker loomed in a thicket of green fog. The partial visibility enlarged it in the mind’s eye as one could not decipher its precise boundaries and shape. A squawking series of sounds, all steel on steel, reverberated from its belly.

Ungulen and Drutherstone motored up to the nose of the tanker. Ungulen idled and killed the engine. Drutherstone kicked out and stripped off his outer, soaked layer of slimy overcoat. Beneath, he was relatively dry in a linen shirt.

Somewhere in the fog, a small man popped off the back of the tankard. He was bird like, skipping around with weightless energy.

“Biddim, hello!” Drutherstone waved to the speckling man fluttering around in the fog. Ungulen made no greeting as he was busy servicing the smeared up guts of the motorbike.

Biddim grinned enormously but not at anybody or anything in particular. His toothy mouth stretched beyond the ears, and his tiny black eyes glinted off of every surface. He acknowledged Drutherstone for half an instant and then disappeared around the back of the tankard.

“Never does say hullo properly,” Ungulen noted. And with that, Ungulen swung the motorbike over onto his back. He and Drutherstone made their way to a tall scaffolded structure. They climbed the built-in ladder and settled on the topmost tier, spreading a tarp over the open surface and prepared to settle in for a full day’s wait by the lagoon.

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