The Borribles: Across the Dark Metropolis

by Michael de Larrabeiti

  ‘One thing’s on our side,’ said Napoleon. ‘They’re going to have to fight us in the dark and that won’t be too easy for ’em.’ And as Napoleon spoke there was a whirring noise in the vaulted roof and a pale and sickly light flickered over the Borribles, disappeared and then flickered again, hesitated and then steadied to become a pallid whiteness that gave no shade. The Adventurers glanced upwards. There in the roof shone long tubes of fluorescent lighting, stretching away as far as the eye could see; tracer bullets along the tunnel.

  The Adventurers looked at each other, the blood driven from their faces by this light that had no pity in it. Now they could see the bleakness of the spot to which their fate had directed them: the dirt and the dust, the broken and abandoned tools, the piles of rubbish and the sacks of cement.

  There was worse to come, a noise this time, a metallic whining that split the white light in two. The Borribles leapt to their feet and the noise came again, humming and crackling loudly before at last dying away with a plaintive whistling. Someone tapped on a microphone. then, and blew and tapped again. A voice resonated through some faraway speakers, counting: ‘One, two, three, four; testing, testing. Can you hear me?’ It was Sussworth’s voice and it skated along the walls of the tunnel, howling and wowing and turning over and over, looping the loop until finally it banged against the eardrums of the Borribles where they stood, rooted to the spot in fear and surprise.

  ‘Can you hear us, Borribles,’ Sussworth’s voice boomed, ‘because we know you’re there; your friend Queenie told us. Just goes to show that you can’t trust anyone, doesn’t it?’ A splutter broke in on Sussworth’s words; he was laughing and a strange thin laughter it was, whipping through the air like barbed wire uncoiling.

  ‘Now listen,’ continued Sussworth when he had recovered himself. ‘This time there is no escape. I have men at this end and men behind you, hundreds of men and all the reserves I need. Lay down your catapults and march straight down here to Swiss Cottage and give yourselves up. You will be well looked after and no harm will come to you … except of course for the statutory removal of the aural appendages, but that does go without saying.’ Sussworth was silent for a moment, as if he expected an answer through the microphone. When he received none he went on.

  ‘You have five minutes to surrender,’ he said. ‘Walk into this station with your hands on your heads. If you comply with this request your horse will be spared and put out to graze in a special horse hotel and there he will live out the rest of his days in tranquillity. Fortunate horse.’

  ‘Baloney,’ said Napoleon.

  ‘But,’ the voice resumed, ‘if these five minutes of time elapse without your surrender I shall renege on my offer for the horse, and you know what his fate will be then as well as I do. He will end up catsmeat as guaranteed, in tins weighing two hundred and fifty grams, as advertised. Five minutes only or I send in my first wave of shock troops to flush you from your rat holes. Nooch and his dwarfs are ready and eager to come looking for you … but, friends, let it not come to that. Surrender and avoid bloodshed.’

  There was a silence followed by a click and the speakers went dead.

  Knocker took his catapult from his back pocket; the others did the same. ‘This is our last battle,’ he said. ‘Has anyone got a plan, for I haven’t. I don’t know what to do. I never felt so rotten in my life.’

  There was a sound of footsteps by the control cabin and Stonks, Torreycanyon and Orococco arrived. They had been sleeping in the trains but the lights had woken them. They had heard Sussworth’s speech too and knew what danger they were in.

  ‘There’s nothing to be done,’ said Stonks, ‘except fight and try to make sure those stinking dwarfs have nothing to crow about.’

  ‘I can’t believe this is happening,’ said Chalotte, her voice a wail of despair. ‘I can’t believe it. How did it come to this?’

  ‘It came, that’s all,’ said Napoleon bitterly. ‘I say we get down by the front of the trains and wait for Ninch and his mates. Sydney could stay back here with Sam; that way if anyone tries to take us in the rear she can give us the whistle.’

  ‘It’s got to be worth a go, man,’ said Orococco.

  ‘A go is all we’ll get,’ said Knocker. He sounded empty, devoid of hope. ‘The dwarfs are only to soften us up. Once the coppers get in they’ll have helmets and riot shields and all. Our catapults won’t be any good against them.’

  ‘Hide and seek to the death,’ said Napoleon.

  ‘And Sam,’ said Sydney. ‘Is it the end for him too?’

  Chalotte sighed. ‘A lot of things are going to come to an end today, Sid,’ she said. ‘All you can do is hide him over there against the wall, behind that big pile of rubbish, then keep a watch on the tunnel for us. At least you’ll be with Sam at the very last.’

  ‘Let’s go,’ said Stonks. ‘Get it over with.’

  ‘When it starts going bad,’ said Knocker, ‘we’ll rally round the front of the cabin. That way we’ll be able to see ’em coming from both directions and we’ll have a wall at our backs.’

  There was no better plan than this and it was immediately agreed. Silently the Borribles moved to take up their positions, facing the southbound tunnel from where it was thought the first attack would come. As they walked to the battlefield the nine friends decided to split their forces into three groups as they had done at the scrapyard: Orococco, Twilight and Bingo in the first group, Torreycanyon, Stonks and Vulge in the second; Chalotte, Knocker and Napoleon in the third.

  ‘That’ll make sure,’ explained the Wendle, ‘that them dwarfs don’t know where we are exactly.’ He glanced beyond the others, looking at the roof of a carriage, his face crafty. ‘And we three could hide up there,’ he said.

  Now that the lights had been switched on there was in fact a good view from the top of the trains. The two sidings were in a wider area than the tunnel itself so there was a kind of open space of about seventy yards square lying just in front of the carriages, though eventually this space narrowed down into a single track which led onwards to Swiss Cottage and the main Bakerloo line.

  It was not possible however for the Adventurers to see very far into that Swiss Cottage tunnel. Although it too was lit by the same fluorescent lighting as illuminated the control cabin section, it also curved rather sharply on its way to the station. The enemy, when they came, would not be visible until they turned the corner, about a couple of hundred paces distant from where the Borribles waited.

  Knocker and Chalotte followed Napoleon to the roof of the carriage he had chosen and all three lay on their stomachs. Below them and over to one side they could see Twilight, Orococco and Bingo taking cover behind two large packing cases that had been dumped against the wall. Somewhere to the left, Torreycanyon, Stonks and Vulge were hiding behind the wheels of the second train.

  ‘Let them get out into the open before we fire,’ Knocker called. ‘Don’t want to frighten the little bleeders.’ Then he settled down to wait, and so did his companions.

  Sussworth’s five minutes soon elapsed and when the dwarfs came they came quietly, moving cautiously along the tracks, the thick stone dust deadening every footfall. They stepped from sleeper to sleeper, they searched every alcove let into the walls and they peered into every shadow. In their hands they carried long wooden truncheons and they wore green jackets made of luminous plastic so that the police would know them from Borribles in the heat of battle.

  The dwarfs—there seemed to be about twenty of them—were led to the end of the tunnel by Ninch himself. When he arrived at the edge of the open space he halted, held up his hand and gazed suspiciously at the two trains that stood before him.

  ‘We know you’re there, Borribles,’ he shouted. ‘You might as well give up, you’re outnumbered and surrounded.’

  There was no answer. Each Borrible lay motionless in his hiding place, face down, stone and catapult ready. Ninch waited; he shouted again.

  ‘You can’t fight all of us, we’re stronger
than you; you might as well give in.’

  Still there was no response so Ninch raised his hand once more and the dwarfs moved into the open, spreading to right and left, heading for the trains and stepping over the criss-cross of the tracks, lifting their feet high over the conductor rail although they all knew there was no power in it. Their truncheons were held at the ready, their eyes were everywhere.

  They drew level at last with the packing cases and still everything remained quiet. They came to within ten yards or so of the front carriages and Ninch called out his orders.

  ‘Remember, dwarfs. Get to grips with ’em. Don’t let ’em use their catapults.’

  ‘Oh no?’ yelled Bingo, and he suddenly appeared from his hiding place, his catapult ready in his hand. ‘Well cop this!’ And so saying he fired at Ninch and a stone struck the chief dwarf in the chest and he staggered backwards. As Bingo released his shot Twilight and Orococco appeared also and each of their missiles struck a dwarf and knocked some of the bravado out of them.

  Before the dwarfs could take cover or even throw themselves to the ground Vulge, Torreycanyon and Stonks emerged from under the trains and fired too, and more dwarfs staggered under the forceful blows of sharp-edged stones. At the same time Knocker, Chalotte and Napoleon got to their feet and fired down on the enemy, striking the dwarfs from above, and yet more of their number fell, seriously stunned, clasping their heads.

  ‘Here’s for Scooter,’ shouted Chalotte, and she reloaded and fired her catapult as quickly as she could.

  The dwarfs faltered and had it not been for Ninch they might have turned tail there and then, but whatever else he was Ninch was no coward. He rallied his troops even under the full fury of the Borrible attack.

  ‘Get to the trains,’ he yelled. ‘Get under the trains, that’s where they are. They can’t beat us close to. Remember the reward.’ Ninch crouched low and ran forward, diving to safety behind the big carriage wheels. His men followed him but Bingo, Twilight and Orococco fired after them and two more dwarfs stumbled and fell, their knees shattered.

  Nor had the other Borribles been idle. Vulge, Torreycanyon and Stonks fired at the enemy as they went to earth and the dwarfs were badly cut and bruised. Knocker and his two companions let fly from above; another dwarf went down. Ninch’s troops, who had been told the Borribles would be easy, now knew they had a fight on their hands.

  Knocker stood up. ‘We’ve got to keep them at long range,’ he said. ‘Remember they’re adults, stronger than we are.’

  Napoleon grinned like the crafty Wendle of old. He closed one eye and the other blazed with the love of battle. ‘I dunno about that,’ he said. ‘I’m going to slip off here and try to get amongst them dwarfs, pretend to surrender maybe, get close to Ninch. With him gone the rest will run like rabbits.’ And Napoleon re-opened his eye and lowered himself over the side of the train. Then, catapult between his teeth, he dropped silently to the ground.

  Knocker was alarmed. He went to the edge of the roof and looked down. ‘Come back, Nap,’ he whispered. ‘There’s too many of them.’

  The Wendle did not answer but waved a hand, grinned once more and slipped out of sight under the carriages.

  Knocker cursed. ‘Dammit,’ he said, ‘we can’t let him go on his own.’ He stood on the edge of the roof, perplexed, Chalotte by his side.

  ‘No,’ she said, ‘we can’t.’

  Just then the Wendle reappeared from underneath the train, backing slowly, his hands held above his head in a gesture of surrender; after him came two dwarfs, neither of whom was Ninch.

  ‘I surrender,’ Napoleon was saying, ‘honest. Look, here’s my cattie.’ He threw the weapon to the ground. ‘I’ve had enough, really. Take me to Sussworth. I want to live a normal life. Don’t hurt me, please don’t hurt me.’

  The dwarfs stepped forward, taking no chances, their truncheons held poised before them, eager to clout Napoleon across the head as soon as they got close enough to him. The Wendle clasped his hands together, dropped to his knees and raised his eyes to heaven, winking when he saw Knocker and Chalotte ready on the roof. ‘Oh, please don’t hurt me,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t stand it.’

  ‘Here we go,’ said Knocker, and seizing Chalotte’s arm he leapt into space, pulling the girl with him. As the two dwarfs raised their weapons over the kneeling Napoleon they were suddenly smashed to the ground by the flying weight of the two Borribles landing feet first on their necks. They collapsed completely, demolished like old buildings destroyed with dynamite.

  Both Chalotte and Knocker rolled over in the dust and sprang to their feet immediately. Napoleon did likewise, ready for trouble, but the dwarfs lay sprawled across one another in the dirt, one face down, the other gazing blankly into the fluorescent lighting.

  ‘Backs broken,’ said Napoleon, and he bent down and retrieved the dwarfs’ truncheons, giving one to Knocker. ‘You use these for hitting people,’ he explained, then he spat. ‘I want that Ninch,’ he continued, ‘more than anything in the whole world.’ And with that he ran off alongside the train until he reached the end of the front carriage. Nor did he stop there but ran on into the middle of the open space that lay before the tunnel entrance. Knocker and Chalotte followed the Wendle as far as the front of the train but there they halted and crouched in the shadow of the last wheel.

  ‘He’s going bonkers,’ said Chalotte.

  It certainly looked like it. Napoleon began to run up and down, stooping every now and then to bang a railway line with his truncheon just as hard as he could, making a sound that resonated along the sprung and curving rails for miles and miles. And Napoleon shouted too, a defiant challenge to the arch-betrayer, Ninch.

  ‘Come on out, Ninch,’ bellowed the fearless Borrible. ‘I want yer, Ninch, don’t waste yerself … Come and fight with a Wendle.’

  And so Ninch came at last. He did not run, nor did he shout, he simply appeared on the far side of the trains to Knocker and Chalotte and with him two of his cronies.

  Napoleon stopped his cavorting immediately and twirled his truncheon in delight. ‘Hello, Ninch,’ he said, and he smiled and his face looked like a rock with a crack in it.

  Chalotte whispered into Knocker’s ear, ‘He is mad; there’s three of them.’

  ‘That’s all right,’ said Knocker. ‘There’s three of us only they don’t know it yet.’ He loaded his catapult and Chalotte followed his example. ‘You take the one on the right; I’m aiming for Ninch.’

  By this time the three dwarfs had approached within a few yards of Napoleon Boot, confident in the knowledge that they outnumbered him. They laughed—the Wendle looked so frail.

  ‘Look what we got here,’ said Ninch, leering at his companions. ‘A funny little green job.’

  Napoleon spat on the floor. ‘I’d knock yer brains out,’ he said calmly, ‘if I knew where you kept ’em. You’re a waste of space, Ninch, that’s what you are.’

  The dwarfs did not answer and moved nearer the Wendle, intending to attack him from three directions at once. They did not get far. Both Knocker and Chalotte stepped into the open and let fly with their catapults. Chalotte’s aim was perfect and her target was struck down. Knocker was not so lucky and cursed out loud as he fired. Ninch had crouched and moved forward at the last second and the stone destined for him missed his head by inches though fortunately, at least for the Borribles, the missile wasn’t wasted. Behind Ninch stood the third dwarf and Knocker’s stone smashed against his temple. With a howl of pain, he fell backwards across the railway lines, unconscious, just like Chalotte’s victim.

  The chief dwarf half turned, dismayed to see his companions put out of action so effectively. He only took his eyes from Napoleon for a second but that was enough.

  ‘Queensberry rules,’ shouted the Wendle, and he lashed out with his captured truncheon and caught Ninch a swinging blow across the side of the head. The dwarf staggered and slipped on the track and sank to one knee.

  Napoleon struck again but Ninch was no weakling and
he fended the blow away. His muscles had been circus-trained and his reactions were fast and sure. Ninch would never give in and Knocker and Chalotte, watching the struggle from the safety of their hiding place, realized this only too well. One to one in close combat, even Napoleon Boot was no match for the dwarf.

  ‘Over here,’ yelled Knocker. ‘We’ll cover yer. Come on.’

  Napoleon, from reasons of pride or out of a simple desire to revenge Scooter’s death all on his own, took no heed of his friend’s invitation. He twirled his truncheon again, and as Ninch got to his feet he danced around him, making him dizzy, prodding hard into the dwarfs ribs and stomach.

  Knocker looked about him. The sounds of battle were moving closer. He spoke to Chalotte. ‘We’re going to be killed or captured in this fight anyway, Chal, so there’s no point in fighting fair. I’m going to drop Ninch from behind before his two chums come round and you’ll have to cover me from here.’ Knocker started forward, crossing the railway lines to where Napoleon’s fight was continuing in the same way it had begun, with the Wendle dodging and fencing and the dwarf striding patiently after him, knowing that once he got his hands on the Borrible he would throttle him.

  When Knocker was within twenty yards of the dwarf he came to a halt and drew his catapult rubber back as for as his ear and took very careful aim at the back of Ninch’s head. Just then Napoleon, ducking in under his opponent’s guard, caught the dwarf a firm blow across the stomach and the sound of that blow was rich and solid like an axe biting into wood.

  Ninch dropped to his knees and his truncheon fell from his hand, but even then his tremendous strength stood him in good stead. As he fell he grabbed Napoleon’s truncheon from the Wendle’s grasp and threw it hard into his face. Napoleon tottered and stumbled, blinded by pain and the blood which spurted from his forehead down into his eyes. He raised a hand to wipe his face clear, tripped on a railway line and fell backwards.