Robin Jarvis - Fighting Pax

He would often lie awake in his bunk, listening to the distant noises of the base and the eerie sound of the air coursing through the vents and tunnels. If the main entrance was open, and the wind came squalling in, it howled through the connecting passageways. When other unknown and distant doors were unbolted, it could be like the whispering of ghosts. Spencer wondered how frequent earth tremors were in this part of the world. One slight judder would be cataclysmic and the mountain would come crushing down. When he did sleep, it was fitful and shallow and the faintest creak or scratching of mice caused him to lurch awake.

Unlike the other refugees, he didn’t call this place Titipu. Instead he preferred ‘the Hole-in-the-Wall’ after the Wild West hideout of outlaws. But that didn’t help much. Passing a hand over his bare head, he tried to suppress the anxiety he could feel rising in his chest. The loss of his Stetson had been like a kick in the gut. It was his comfort object and he felt bereft without it. In the camp, when the Punchinello with the silver nose had swiped it from him, at least Spencer knew where it was. These people had probably burned it and that likelihood distressed him deeply. Maggie had been extremely sympathetic, but the waistcoat she had made was no substitute for his beloved hat, although he secretly liked it when Lee called him “Sheriff Woody”.

Spencer turned his unhappy face to the other end of the corridor, where it opened out on to one of the main tunnels. Digging his cold hands into his pockets, he leaned against the rocky wall and waited.

“It really Christmas already?” Lee asked, back in the refectory.

“At the end of the week,” Maggie answered. She had been telling him Gerald’s plans for the choir.

“Dunno how or why you bother keepin’ track. Ain’t no point no more.”

“I bother because it helps,” she said.

“One day’s like every other in this dump. Could be Pancake Tuesday for all the difference it makes. Those things mean nuthin’ now. Sooner you stop pretendin’ they does, the better.”

Maggie didn’t let him nettle her. She had got used to his attitude and temper. After all this time, they were like background noise, but he was getting worse and not many of the others talked to him any more. Today he was particularly volatile and ready to kick off. She didn’t know the details of his nightmare, he never shared them with anyone but the doctor, but everyone could hear his screams.

“Gerald says he makes fantastic mince pies,” she rattled on, “with chocolate in. They must be gorgeous. Suppose it’ll be same old kimchi and rice or noodles here on the day.”

Nabi’s ears pricked up. “Kimchi!” she repeated, patting her stomach and nodding. “Good yum.”

Lee curled his lip at her and she squirmed with pleasure.

“Long as it’s not no more of those thin spicy soups,” he grumbled. “Thought we’d done with that kinda slop when we left the camp.”

“Don’t suppose I’ll ever so much as sniff another roast potato,” Maggie said mournfully.

“Girl, you ain’t never gonna do a whole mess of things again. This, right here, this is your life now, till the Jaxers catch up with us – and that can’t be far off. After that, you won’t have no life no more. Think they’re gonna keep you as a pet or somethin’? The lot of you’ll be lined up against the wall and be a bullet buffet.”

“‘The First Noel’,” she declared, switching back to the subject of the choir. “That’s my favourite carol. I’d rather sing that old Slade song though. Bit too obvious what they’re about I suppose, so we probably won’t be singing either of them. What’s yours? You must have one, even if you won’t join in with the Wenceslassing.”

He threw her a disbelieving ‘WTF?’ glance. “You think you pierced my brain when you did my ear?” he snapped. “I ain’t forgot the last time we sang ‘Silent Night’, over the grave of that crazy kid Jim, who thought he was a superhero and got himself stuck in the guts. Have you?”

“Ah, of course – his name was Jim. Poor lad.”

“And there’s no way I’m ever gonna forget what that Ismus guy wants outta me. Don’t you remember what he said when you, me and Spence went to Mooncaster that time? I do not want to hear no songs about no towns in Bethlehem or herald angels bein’ noisy in the neighbourhood and I specially don’t wanna hear nuthin’ about no shepherds. You got that? I am gonna be spending that entire day hooked up to my bleepy machines in my hospital bed – Scroogin’ it large.”

Maggie had forgotten nothing about that, how could she? But she had hoped he’d stopped brooding by now. She was wrong. That time when Lee had accidentally dragged her and Spencer to that other fantastical realm, the Ismus had proposed a disgusting bargain that she had never been able to get her head around. That evil man had promised Lee could be reunited with Charm, there in Mooncaster, but only if the boy did something for him, only if he killed someone – someone very special.

“That was just mad talk,” she said with a frown and a shrug. “He was screwing with your head. I don’t believe it; it isn’t possible. There’s no way she can come back, not even there. You know what he’s like, all filthy lies and nastiness. What he says eats at you because that’s what it’s meant to do. Best to shut it away and not think about it – ever. Drive you nuts that will.”

Lee swung his feet off the table and pushed his chair away. Not think about it? It was the only thing that kept his heart beating throughout the day, and what fuelled his nightmares. He gave his chains a sharp tug and one of the attached guards blurted an angry protest. If he hadn’t been tethered in this way, Lee would have returned to Mooncaster long ago. His mind was made up. He was going to accept the Ismus’s obscene offer. He would do anything to have Charm back in his life, even if it meant spending the rest of their days in that extreme world of castles and monsters. He had to be with her.

He was about to leave when the door opened and Spencer entered. His spectacles misted over as they encountered the warmer air. Some of the girls sniggered idly.

“Er… Martin and Gerald are back,” he announced, wiping the lenses. “The jeep’s just pulled in.”

“Woohoo,” Lee uttered woodenly. “Break out the Pringles and party dips.”

“Ohhh… Pringles,” Maggie breathed dreamily.

The other children stopped what they were doing and faced the door. Those weekly meetings were their only source of outside news and they looked forward to them with an intense mix of curiosity and dread.

“They don’t seem happy,” Spencer warned everyone.

“When is Baxter ever happy?” Lee asked. “He gets off peddlin’ the-end-is-nigh stuff.”

“Shh,” Maggie hissed.

The door opened again and the two men came in. A shocked murmur escaped the children’s lips. Spencer’s warning had been a huge understatement. They looked terrible. Maggie rose and tried to take Gerald’s hand, but he said he was fine and eased himself on to a chair. It was the first time he had looked his age. Little Nabi pattered over and rested her head on his arm.

Perching on the edge of a table, Martin considered what to tell them. There was no point concealing what had happened and these kids had been through too much already not to know the truth.

“No easy way of saying this,” he began solemnly. “And maybe I should wait till you’re all here, but you’ve a right to be told straight away. Now I don’t want to alarm you…”

“Spit it, Baxter,” Lee heckled. “You ain’t on TV now, no need to milk your moment. Get to the point.”

“One of the Marshals, Tark Hyun-ki, had been turned,” Martin continued. “He started reading from it in the meeting.”