by Greg Krojac
After a rather exhausting game of musical chairs, the children were ushered towards a large garden table that was covered with sandwiches, cakes and more varieties of jelly than could be imagined. Janine looked at Paul.
“I’m so glad we did this, darling. I know it took a lot of soul-searching…”
Paul grinned and interrupted her.
“No pun intended I hope.”
“No. No pun intended. I just wanted to say that I’m glad we decided to go ahead with the procedure all that time ago. Look at them. They’re beautiful little boys. They get on well with their older sisters – most of the time – and they’re doing well at school. They’re completely normal. They can be naughty but they can be little angels too.”
Paul had to agree. They had certainly been lucky. They had the perfect family. It was a pity that their daughters hadn’t wanted to attend the party but, being fourteen and sixteen years old, they wouldn’t have wanted to play party games. They were more than happy to go to the cinema and keep out of their brothers’ way.
“Come on boys. Time to blow out the birthday candles and cut the cake.”
Janine went to the kitchen and returned with two cakes; one in the shape of Spiderman with ‘Happy Birthday Connor’ written on top and the other shaped like Batman with ‘Happy Birthday Liam’.
“Paul? Have you seen the cake slices? I couldn’t find them anywhere.”
It was too late to start looking for them now so Paul told her to bring in a couple of carving knives instead; the cakes were deep and a regular dinner knife would be too thin to do the job properly. Janine lit the candles, telling her sons to blow out the candles and make a wish. The children sang ‘Happy Birthday’ and the twins blew out each of their their seven candles at the first time of trying. When Paul cut the cakes he couldn’t resist giving his boys slightly larger slices. It was their birthday, after all. He lay the knives alongside their respective cakes.
Along with the other children, Liam and Connor tucked into their birthday cakes with gusto. As the last mouthful disappeared down his throat, Liam took a sip of his lemonade. His brother finished his cake and looked at him.
“Ready?”
“Ready.”
The twins started to hum a tune, a tune that nobody at the party had ever heard before. Then the humming turned to mumbled singing. Janine couldn’t understand what was going on. The boys knew that they shouldn’t sing at the meal table.
“Come on boys, you know you shouldn’t sing at the table. Have some jelly and ice cream.”
The singing became louder as the boys sang in unison.
“The Chocky Bar Kid is the cool kid on the block,
And he loves it when mum says ‘it’s Chocky o’clock’,
The best-tasting chocolate,
Always has one in his pocket,
What time is it?
It’s Chocky o’clock!.”
Paul looked at his wife.
“Do you know that song? I’ve never heard of it.”
“No, I can’t say I have. I’ve no idea what a Chocky Bar is. Sounds like a chocolate bar or something.”
Paul grinned sarcastically.
“You think?”
Janine turned to the other children.
“Have any of you ever heard this song before?”
The children, most of whom were still stuffing their mouths with cake shook their heads.
The twins started to sing again.
“The Chocky Bar Kid is the cool kid on the block,
And he loves it when mum says ‘it’s Chocky o’clock’,
The best-tasting chocolate,
Always has one in his pocket,
What time is it?
It’s Chocky o’clock!.”
In one swift movement, the boys jumped onto the table, swept up the carving knives and slashed their parents’ throats. As Janine and Paul slumped onto the table, their dead weight crushing the food beneath them, their blood spreading across the super-hero table cloth, the boys turned and looked at their terrified guests and shouted…
“IT’S CHOCKY O’CLOCK!!”
#####
BOOK THREE
RESOLUTION
CHAPTER ONE
18:00 SUNDAY 14 MARCH 2077
About an hour earlier the birthday party had been in full swing when Liam had nodded to his brother. The rest of the young guests, all enjoying wearing their superhero costumes, were busy playing hide-and-seek. The garden was quite large and gave ample opportunity for the children to hide themselves but the twins had made a spectacularly poor attempt at hiding and had been found quickly – which suited them just fine. The two made their way to the main house, leaving their friends to continue the game without them. As they stepped through the French windows, the cloak of Liam’s Batman costume snagged on the door handle and he was forced to wriggle free before joining his brother in the kitchen. Connor had no such problem as Spider-Man didn’t use a cloak so there was nothing for his costume to catch on. The pint-sized Spider-Man had already dragged the kitchen steps over to the worktop by the time Batman had arrived and was waiting for his brother to hold the steps steady. Once confident that the steps were stable he scurried up the stepladder with renewed certainty, opening the kitchen cupboard and taking out the two cake slices that would be used to cut the birthday cake later. Neither of the boys understood why their parents hid the cake slices so high up in the cupboard; it wasn’t as if they were sharp. Cake slices in hand, with Batman still holding on to the stepladder, Spider-Man jumped down from his perch. Batman grinned.
“The real Spider-Man would have fired a strand of web and opened the cupboard, and then pulled himself up with it to reach what he wanted.”
“Well, I’m not the real Spider-Man and these web guns only fire water. A fat lot of good that would have done. And your utility belt is full of plastic bat-things, so you’re no better off than I am.”
Spider-Man handed the cake slices to his brother.
“Hide these somewhere good.”
Batman took the cake slices and looked around. He spotted the old upright piano against the far wall of the dining room. He didn’t know why they had a piano since nobody in the family could play a note. Maybe his parents were trying to impress the neighbours. He trotted into the dining room, pulled a chair over to the piano and climbed onto the seat. Lifting up the lid of the instrument he dropped the cake slices inside. The piano complained briefly as the slices caught its strings but it didn’t make enough noise to attract attention. Batman dashed back to join his brother, who stared at him.
“Forgotten something?”
Batman looked back to where he had just come from and saw the chair alongside the piano.
“I’ll put it back where I found it.”
“Good idea.”
The chair returned to its original location, tucked closely to the acacia wood table, the boys went back out to the garden. They joined in some more games, even some of the old-fashioned games that their mum had found on the internet the day before. Neither boy cared much for musical statues, it was so slow and boring, but they enjoyed the rough and tumble of fighting for the last few chairs in musical chairs – the final game before they were to sit down to eat. A few minutes later the twins and their guests were sitting at the table, scoffing sandwiches and throwing generous portions of jelly and ice cream down their throats.
Their father, Paul, clapped his hands.
“Come on boys and girls. It’s dark enough now. Time to blow out the birthday candles and cut the cake.”
Janine fetched two cakes from the kitchen and placed them in the middle of the table. They looked splendid; one shaped like Spider-Man with ‘Happy Birthday Connor’ written on top and the other shaped like Batman.
“Paul? Have you seen the cake slices? I couldn’t find them anywhere.”
It was too late to start looking for them so Paul told her to bring in a couple of large kitchen knives instead. The cake slices would have been better but the cakes
were deep and a regular dinner knife would be too thin to do the job properly. ‘Happy Birthday’ was sung and cheers filled the air as both boys blew out their seven candles at the first time of trying. Paul cut the cakes into more or less equal pieces but he couldn’t resist giving his boys slightly larger slices. It was their birthday, after all. He laid the knives alongside their respective cakes.
Liam and Connor tucked into their birthday cakes like condemned murderers eating their last meals, relishing every bite. Swallowing the final mouthful of his cake, Liam took a sip of his lemonade. Connor finished his own piece of cake and looked at him.
“Ready?”
“Ready.”
The twins started to hum a tune, and the humming turned into mumbled singing. Janine glared at her sons. The boys knew that they shouldn’t sing at the meal table.
“Come on boys, you know you shouldn’t sing at the table. Have some more jelly and ice cream.”
The singing became louder.
“The Chocky Bar Kid is the cool kid on the block,
And he loves it when mum says ‘it’s Chocky o’clock’,
The best-tasting chocolate,
Always has one in his pocket,
What time is it?
It’s Chocky o’clock!.”
Paul looked at his wife.
“Do you know that song? I’ve never heard of it.”
“No, I can’t say I have either. I’ve no idea what a Chocky Bar is. Sounds like a chocolate bar or something.”
Paul grinned sarcastically.
“You think?”
Janine turned to the other children.
“Have any of you ever heard this song before?”
The children shook their heads.
The twins started to sing again. Louder and stronger this time.
“The Chocky Bar Kid is the cool kid on the block,
And he loves it when mum says ‘it’s Chocky o’clock’,
The best-tasting chocolate,
Always has one in his pocket,
What time is it?
It’s Chocky o’clock!.”
As soon as the song was finished, the boys jumped onto the table, sweeping up the carving knives in one flowing movement and slashed their parents’ throats. Janine and Paul slumped onto the table and their bodies crushed the food beneath them, as their blood spread across the super-hero table cloth like a demonic crimson ink blot. The boys turned and looked at their terrified guests, shouting in unison.
“IT’S CHOCKY O’CLOCK!”
Captain America, Superman, and his sister Supergirl froze in horror, unable to move from their seats. That was their undoing, and they were the first of the children to die. The kitchen knives were incredibly sharp and the twins made short work of killing the three children. Their small bodies were no match for the blades. Thor made a run for it but he didn’t get very far before he was rugby tackled by Iron Man.
“Thought you’d get away?”
Thor took a swing at Iron Man with his hammer but, being made of lightweight plastic it just bounced harmlessly off his attacker’s head. He might as well have tried to fend off his assailant with a feather duster. Batman sprinted up to the couple, bloody knife in hand, as they struggled on the ground.
“You’re making it too easy for me. I’ll take you both out at the same time.”
Iron Man looked up at Batman.
“I don’t think you should, Thomas.”
“Did you…did you just call me Thomas?”
“Yes. You were Thomas when I knew you. I can see it in your eyes. You were Thomas McCall when we both worked on the Revelation project. It’s Charleze. Well, not now, obviously. But I used to be.”
Iron Man stood up and pressed his foot down hard upon Thor’s windpipe until the child had breathed his last. Batman slapped his young accomplice on the arm.
“Shit. Good to see you again. Come on, Connor’s having all the fun.”
Iron Man and Batman ran over to a corner of the garden where Spider-Man was standing over the mutilated body of The Flash.
“Not such a fast runner after all.”
He passed his gaze to Iron Man
“Who’s your friend and why isn’t he dead?”
Batman put his arm around his old friend.
“This, dear brother, is Charleze. Or was, to be accurate.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
Iron Man shook Spider-Man’s hand.
“But please call me Jazz. Calling a boy Charlize sounds a bit pervy.”
Batman looked around the garden, counting off the bodies in his head.
“Well, we’ve done Captain America, Superman, Supergirl, Thor, and now Flash. That leaves Wolverine, Catwoman, Robin, and Wonder Woman.”
A woman’s voice purred behind them. They turned and saw Catwoman holding Wonder Woman in a headlock.
“I’ve got a present for you boys. Where do you want it?”
Spider-Man looked at the feline newcomer.
“I suppose you’re going to say that you knew us in a past life too.”
“Not at all, Spidey. I’ve never met you before in my life. I’m just a mean bitch who likes hurting people.”
“My kind of girl.”
“I’ve brought you a present. I am a cat, remember. It’s what we cats do for people we like.”
“Are you for real? Are you a Recarn too?”
“No Spidey. I’m not a Recarn. I don’t know who I used to be. Don’t really care either”
Batman, Spider-Man, and Iron Man exchanged glances. Catwoman was getting impatient.
“Look. Do you want this present or not? Or shall I just play around with her for a bit and then kill her myself.”
Batman eyed her askance.
“You like to live the part don’t you Catwoman?”
“What can I say? I like cats.”
The three male superheroes formed a huddle and had a very quick discussion about what to do next. Batman went to pass the knife to her. Wonder Woman tried to wriggle free but Catwoman’s grip was too strong.
“I don’t want the knife.”
“We want you to have it. Think of it as a test. Or maybe even a treat”
“Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’ll kill her. I’ve just got a better idea. I’m a mean motherfucker. I told you.”
“You sure you’re not a Recarn? You talk and swear like a grown-up. You don’t sound like a kid.”
“I’m probably a child genius; I learn quick.”
Batman still wasn’t convinced.
“So what’s your idea?”
“String her up.”
“String her up?”
Catwoman pointed to another part of the garden.
“Yes. String her up. From the apple-tree over there.”
Spider-Man shrugged his shoulders.
“Okay. Let’s do what the lady says. Take her over to the tree.”
The group of intrepid superheroes, who perhaps should have called themselves The League of Super-Sick Bastards, gathered below the apple-tree. Iron Man had a question.
“We need a rope. What shall we hang her with?”
Spider-Man took a golden rope from Wonder Woman’s waistband.
“What else? The Lasso of Truth. ”
Batman cut a short length off the lasso and used it to tie Wonder Woman’s hands behind her back. Iron Man was, as the name suggested, the strongest of the boys and hoisted Spider-Man on his shoulders while Catwoman skilfully climbed the tree and shuffled along to the middle of a branch where she tied one end of the Lasso of Truth to the tree and fashioned a makeshift noose out of the other end. Batman had taken charge of the prisoner and, between the three of them, the boys managed to manhandle Wonder Woman so that she was suspended from the tree, her head through the noose, and her body supported by Spider-Man. She was heavier than he had expected. Catwoman shuffled her position up the tree.
“Come on guys. Let’s get this over with. I’m not very comfortable up here.”
“Think yourself lucky you’re not down here.”
Catwoman interrupted their bickering.
“When I say three, run like fuck.”
Spider-Man wanted clarification.
“On the count of three, or just when you say the word three?”
“Oh for fuck’s sake Spidey. THREE!”
Iron Man took the cue and started sprinting away from the tree. Spider-Man wasn’t able to stay on his shoulders and crashed to the ground. He looked up to the sky and watched as Wonder Woman’s legs thrashed about above him. Catwoman started clapping.
“I do love it when they do the dance of death. Fucking lovely.”
Iron Man had stopped running and re-joined his friends. Wonder Woman twitched a few more times before hanging lifeless from the tree like a wilted flower and Catwoman jumped down from her perch.
“That was fun that was.”
Batman turned to the grinning female superhero.
“Have you done that before?”
“Maybe.”
“You seemed to know what you were doing.”
“You got me.”
“You know, you’re a –”
“I know. I’m a sick motherfucker.”
“And you don’t half swear a lot.”
“That’s ´cos I’m a foul-mouthed sick motherfucker. You’ll get used to it. My mum did –although she thinks I have Tourette’s syndrome. I haven’t. I just like swearing.”
Spider-Man was suddenly anxious.
“C’mon guys, we should be getting out of here. Wolverine and Robin have got away. We’ve got to find them.”
With that, the four superheroes ran, giggling, to the end of the garden, scaled the fence, and disappeared into the surrounding woodland.
CHAPTER TWO
18:30 SUNDAY 14 MARCH 2077
Stephen Tufnell wasn’t the best partner to go on the run with. He’d done his best to keep up with Martin Dier but he just wasn’t athletic. He called out to the figure that was a few paces ahead of him.
“Martin. Can we stop? I’ve got a stitch.”