Fighting Pax. Robin Jarvis

I can’t fink straight. When were this? When did you tell me?”

      Lee halted, left the buggy and came back to her. Cupping her face in his hands, he looked into her eyes.

      “She’s dead, hun,” he said gently. “When she found out what happened to you, it were too much. She couldn’t face it and had to bail. Man, I almost caved too. Your mother was strong and fierce – you should be proud. She got the rest of us outta that hellhole, but she couldn’t hack it out here without you. She thought you was dead forever. She didn’t know what I had planned, how I was gonna go fetch you from that Mooncaster place. I’m gonna make sure our angel don’t never forget she had a lioness for a grandma.”

      Charm blinked her tears away. Lee stroked her cheek. She never remembered. Perhaps it was best that way. Perhaps he should stop reminding her. The horrors of that camp, where children immune to the effects of Dancing Jax had been interned, were best forgotten, especially by her. She moved away, towards the railing, and stared down at the cloudy river. Lee followed, drew the girl close and held her tightly. As long as they were together, nothing else mattered. He would do anything to keep her in his arms forever. Sometimes he couldn’t believe what he had already done.

      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.