Robin Jarvis - Fighting Pax

And then that sudden sense of dread tore at his stomach, as it did every night. Still wrapped in his embrace, Charm raised her eyes and screamed.

Running along the path towards them were a dozen hideous little hunchbacked men, with hooked noses that curved down to meet the upturned tips of equally grotesque chins. They were Punchinello Guards from the pages of that evil children’s book, ugly and brutal creatures that had crossed over into this world. They were dressed in the yellow and crimson livery of Mooncaster, with large velvet bicorn hats on their deformed heads and spears in their fists.

Lee grabbed the girl’s hand and the couple ran back towards the buggy. But the guards were already upon them.

A savage kick knocked Lee’s legs from under him. His knees crashed on to the concrete. Charm’s hand was torn from his fingers and his face slammed against the ground. He roared in pain and rage as a steel-heeled boot stamped on his shoulders. His arms were yanked up over his back until he thought they would snap or be ripped from the sockets. His joints felt on fire. He tried to struggle, but a brass knuckleduster crunched into his ribs and a pinched, nasal voice squawked in his ear.

“Goody goody!” it screeched. “Oh, goody goody! You twitch again, Creeper, and me smash bones. Me likey hear them splintery crack, splintery crack.”

The boy could only stare as three of the Punchinellos bounded after Charm, squealing and quacking with cruel delight.

“Get away from her!” he bawled. “Don’t you touch her!”

Even as he yelled those words, the girl was dragged to the floor by her hair and powerful hands clamped over her mouth, smothering her terrified shrieks.

Then two more guards came waddling up. Between them they carried a large leather suitcase. It was so long it required two handles and, when Lee saw it, his eyes widened in horror. The suitcase was shaped like a coffin.

“No!” he bellowed.

The guards set the macabre case down and skipped around it, flicking the catches open. Then they threw back the lid. Charm was hoisted into the air and flung inside.

“We had a deal!” Lee cried. “I did what your Ismus psycho wanted. We had a deal!”

The Punchinellos ignored him. They hopped and danced about the suitcase, tormenting the petrified girl within, jabbing and prodding her with the tips of their spears.

“You hurt her and I’ll kill you!” Lee thundered.

“Prick the squassage!” they taunted. “Prick it, poke it, make it spit, make it sing and squeal in the pan.”

“Girl no belong here,” the evil voice hissed in the boy’s ear. “You not done what Ismus want.”

“I did!” Lee protested. “I did it and damned myself to Hell. But I didn’t care! Don’t you take her from me now!”

“You liar. You no do it. Girl stay dead till you does.”

Lee watched them reach for the lid of the suitcase and looked on Charm’s stricken face one final time.

“Don’t you be scared now!” he shouted across to her. “I ain’t gonna lose you again! Wherever you is, I’ll find you! I promise! I promise!”

The lid snapped down and quick, dirty fingers locked it. Then the suitcase was snatched up and the two guards went scurrying away with it. Charm’s muffled screams faded in the distance.

The crushing weight of the boot lifted from Lee’s shoulder and the owner of the voice stepped before his eyes. There stood Captain Swazzle, chief warder of the castle guards. He was dressed in the same absurd outfit as the last time the boy had seen him, back at the camp. The pinstriped, 1920s, Al Capone-style suit, complete with pearl-grey spats and white fedora, was still in place and a stream of pale blue smoke curled up from the fat cigar in his mouth.

“You want see girl again?” he snarled, tapping ash down on to the boy’s face. “Do what Ismus say.”

“Big mistake messin’ with me!” Lee thundered back. “You know what I’m capable of. You know why your head guy is so scared o’ me. I am gonna make it my personal business to take you right outta this world and scrub you from that book forever – like you never was – an’ there ain’t nuthin’ could…”

The threat died on his lips. The other Punchinellos had started to squawk.

“Oohhhh, a baby! Look at the baby! Looky – looky!”

They gathered round the buggy and began pawing at the infant inside.

Lee roared at them to get away, but they paid no attention and fawned over the baby, distorting their misshapen features even more by pulling faces and sticking their dark tongues out. A moment later, the child was crying and the guards started squabbling.

“You woke the baby!”

“No, you woke the baby!”

“You did!”

“You!”

Bickering, they jostled for possession of the buggy, wrenching it from one another’s greedy grasp.

Lee bawled at them. The hands gripping his arms gave them a sudden, violent twist and his face smacked the ground.

“Please stop,” he begged fearfully. “Don’t do this. Don’t hurt my angel. I’ll do whatever you want.”

Captain Swazzle cackled and swaggered across to join the others.

“I make baby sleep,” he declared. Grabbing the buggy’s handles, he rocked it roughly from side to side. Leering down, he brought his hideous face close to the child’s and blew a smoke ring. Then he began to croon a foul Punchinello lullaby.

“Halt your wailing temper or you shall earn a clout,

only bitches whimper, only cats mew out.

I’ll pinch and pull your nose to grow,

I’ll give your chin a curl.

Dream of stunted legs that bow

and be a humpbacked girl.”

While he sang, another guard took hold of the front wheel and, together, they swung the buggy in ever-increasing arcs.

Lee tried to break loose, but every movement was rewarded with a vicious wrench on his arms and a violent stamp on his legs.

“Stop!” he pleaded. “Stop!”

“More!” Captain Swazzle squawked. “Up she goes!”

The swings became wilder. The buggy swept higher and higher into the air until it was level with the Punchinellos’ hats. If the baby hadn’t been secured in the seat, she would have fallen out. Then it went higher still. Captain Swazzle’s yellow eyes bulged in their sockets and he hooted repulsively.

“Up and down!” he screeched. “Up and down – up and down… that’s the way to do it.”

The rest of them joined in the familiar chant, stamped their feet and flourished their spears.

“That’s the way to do it, that’s the way to do it!”

Lee couldn’t bear it. Hot tears streaked his face. He prayed and he shouted, but there was nothing he could do.

“Aaaaaand… up she goes!” Captain Swazzle shrieked one last time. As the buggy went higher than ever, he let go of the handles and the other Punchinello released the front wheel. The buggy continued sailing through the air. It flew up and over the railings, then down again.

Lee squeezed his eyes tight shut. He heard the splash, followed by the trampling of the guards’ boots as they charged across to watch the buggy sink into the river.

“Oooooh, what a pity,” Captain Swazzle cried, staring down at the cloudy waters where a woollen hat, in the shape of a cupcake, floated on the scum. “Oh, what a pity.”

Lee’s scream ripped across the Thames.

The pain bit deeply into his wrists and he lurched upright.

His face was dripping, drenched in icy sweat that stung his eyes. He wrenched at his arms, but they were still held firm. His despairing yell filled the room.

“Mr Lee Charl,” a calm, female voice soothed. “You fine, you safe, you not worry, please.”

The boy’s frantic, heaving breaths continued and his heart pounded as his eyes stared blankly around. The river was gone. The Punchinellos had disappeared. He was in a dimly lit room with blank walls and no window. A hospital bed was before him, surrounded by monitoring equipment, and four men in smart olive uniforms, armed with AK-47 rifles, were standing impassively on either side. There was a figure on the bed, sitting bolt upright, with wires attached to his forehead. A petite woman, wearing a white lab coat over her army uniform, crossed to the door and snapped on the main light switch. Overhead, a fluorescent strip began to stutter. Lee now saw that the eyes of the patient were wide and the stark, traumatised expression on that face was painful to witness. Then something pink glinted under the clinical light. It was a diamanté stud in the patient’s ear. With a jolt, Lee remembered he was staring at a large mirror covering one entire wall and the pitiful figure on the bed was him.