by Robin Jarvis
At the top of the tower, Jangler applauded and started to come down, mopping his face with a handkerchief in relief. The other Punchinellos gave nasal congratulations to Bezuel, who danced in a circle, twirling the grisly trophy above its scarlet hat.
“What the hell was it?” Lee breathed.
Charm hugged herself and rubbed her arms. “I dunno,” she said. “But… there was more than one.”
At that moment, the door to her cabin burst apart and a mass of snapping Doggy-Long-Legs came spilling out on to the lawn. Captain Swazzle gave a shrill howl and hopped out of their path as they swarmed into the camp. There were hundreds of them. The children who were still outside stared in disbelief. Then they had to run to save themselves from ravaging jaws.
Jangler retreated back up to the sentry platform and looked down at the dark, furry tide spreading out below.
“This should not be happening!” he protested anxiously as some of them came galloping towards the base of the tower. “Make it stop! Captain, do something!”
Seven of the spidery creatures leaped up on to the wooden framework and began crawling upwards. The rest of them went hunting for the youngest, easiest prey. When she saw part of the surging horde swerve aside and come sprinting straight for her on their gangling legs, instead of running back into her cabin, Christina panicked and fled away from it.
In the kitchen of the main block, Maggie and Esther heard the shrieks and unnatural noises outside. The Punchinello that was supervising had dashed off to answer his Captain’s call. A moment later, Lee and Charm came tearing through the dining hall, pursued by dozens of nightmarish creatures. Lee threw his weight against the kitchen door, smashing it shut, crunching and squashing the legs and fierce faces that were almost inside. One of the spindly limbs snapped off and dropped to the floor, twitching.
Maggie and Esther gawped then cried out when more legs and teeth appeared beneath the door, seeking a way in.
“What are they?” Maggie asked.
“Hungry!” Lee hollered back. “That’s all you need to know. Now break out the blades – or whatever you got in here!”
Seizing large catering knives from the magnetic rack, they hacked whatever came scrabbling under the door. But they forgot about the other exit and did not close the window. Doggy-Long-Legs were furiously chewing their way in behind them and more came creeping silently over the sill.
Out in the camp the five Punchinellos fought like nothing Marcus had ever seen. Watching from the safety of his cabin, he saw them go trampling into the midst of those spidery things with a burning fervour and an unquenchable relish for slaughter. Bloodshed and carnage was what they lived for.
“What chance have we got getting past just one of them?” he murmured. “Just look, they’re loving this.”
The guards’ spears skewered countless eight-legged horrors and the heels of their boots crushed just as many furry bodies till the bones cracked and eyes popped out. When one of the things leaped up to rip out Captain Swazzle’s throat, the Punchinello caught it in one hand and squeezed out its life. Another guard gave a piercing yowl when one of them sprang high, clamped its jaws around the great hooked nose and chomped its way forward.
Marcus pressed his own nose against the glass. He couldn’t take in what he saw. Suddenly one of those things launched itself at his stunned face and smacked into the pane. The boy fell back. The Doggy-Long-Legs dropped on to the step, legs in the air, then righted itself and instantly started attacking the door.
“It’s getting in!” Spencer cried, stumbling away between the beds.
“Where you going?” Marcus shouted angrily. “Get something to block this with!”
Spencer ran into the bathroom then out again and up the stairs to the mezzanine.
“There’s nothing up there!” Marcus yelled at him.
Lumps of wet wood spat into the cabin as the fangs made a fist-sized hole in the door. A jet-black eye bulged behind it then the four front legs thrust inward, followed by the teeth. Marcus yanked off one of his trainers and battered the snarling intruder with it. The jaws frothed and jerked around, snapping until they bit through the sole, ripped the trainer from his hand and shredded it. Marcus jumped up and searched frantically for some other weapon. He snatched up a chair and whirled about, just as the thing came flying at him. He belted it away and it went spinning sideways, struck the wall and slid down behind one of the beds.
“Fifteen love to the Marcusmeister!” he yelled before edging away, scanning the floor, waiting for it to come scuttling out.
“Come on, you little leggy beggar,” he muttered. “Come out where I can see you.”
There was a rustle under the bed. Then suddenly it was under the next. Then it was beneath the furthest one. Marcus couldn’t keep track. He turned and then it was on the other side of the room, racing under the beds there. Then there was silence.
Marcus looked right and left. He had no idea where it was hiding. He stepped further down the aisle, his eyes darting around. Nervously he put the chair down and stooped to peer under the beds.
Shooting from the shadows, the creature came screaming for his face. Marcus’s reflexes saved him. He rolled sharply to the left and the Doggy-Long-Legs sailed over his head. It landed on the bed behind him, then came rampaging back for another attack. Galloping over the duvet, it bounded into the air. Marcus reached out, caught hold of three long legs then swung it around and bashed the body against the floor, again and again until the five other legs stopped scratching and clawing at him.
“Game, set and match,” he shouted. “Who’s the daddy? Who’s the daddy?”
Spencer came tiptoeing down the stairs.
“Is it dead?” he asked fearfully.
“Come kiss it and find out,” Marcus replied. “Fine cowboy you are, Sheriff Yellowboots.”
Spencer looked beyond him to the door, where another pair of eyes was peering through the ragged hole.
Out in the camp, Jangler was swatting the Doggy-Long-Legs that clambered on to the tower platform with his clipboard and sending them crashing to the ground.
“The trouble with cat flaps,” he told himself, out of breath with the exertion, “is they don’t just let your own pets in, but anything else too! Mr Fellows really should have thought of this. Whatever next? Take that, you foul Gangle Hound!”
Many of the children had found refuge in the cabins, but some were still running about in terror. Christina was one of them. Six spider things pursued her, driving the seven-year-old towards the fence. The girl could go no further. She tried to climb the wire, but couldn’t. She felt a thump in her back and a segmented leg hooked round her throat. The sound of grinding fangs drew close to her ear and she squeezed her eyes shut.
“Jabby jabby jabby!” a Punchinello squawked merrily as the Doggy-Long-Legs was harpooned from her shoulders. The guard spiked the others that surrounded her, like a murderous park keeper collecting gruesome litter, then hurried back into the main battle.
Christina gripped the wire mesh grimly, but she wasn’t out of danger yet. There were still many more of those things marauding through the camp.
In the kitchen, Charm, Lee, Maggie and Esther had been pinned against the central table, fending the creatures off from every side. Armed with a masher and a cordless handblender, Maggie was a formidable force to be reckoned with. Churned-up corpses were piled in an oozing heap in front of her. Lee was the most deadly. He wielded a large knife with skill and precision and more than made up for Charm and Esther’s weaker defence.
The creatures scurried around them warily. One of them got too close to Esther and Maggie’s blender came swooping down, splattering the ghastly face around the room. That was enough. The others barked and yapped in defeat then went hurrying through the window and back out of the half-chewed doors.
“We beat them!” Maggie cried in amazement. “They’ve… er… legged it!”
“Not funny,” Charm said.
Brandishing the knife, Lee moved to the
exit.
“This ain’t over yet,” he said. “We have to get every one of those things or we won’t never know what’s gonna jump out at us.”
“I’m not going out there,” Esther refused.
“Fine,” Lee told her. “You stay in here on your own. If they come back, let us know.”
Esther went with them.
Outside, the Punchinellos were winning. Even the one with the halfeaten nose was still vigorously combating the insect-like vermin. The lawn was littered with speared bodies. Christina stepped through them as though in a dream. Her young eyes stared at the unreal spectacle and her ears were filled with the guards’ bloodthirsty war cries. She saw Lee and the others come running from the main block, waving weapons in the air, and witnessed them joining the fight. The spider things were no longer attacking. They were in retreat.
One darted by, right in front of her, but she was no longer of any interest to them. Only escape mattered now. It headed for the fence and was up the mesh like lightning. It squeezed through the barbed wire at the top – then dropped down the other side. Others were doing the same. The Doggy-Long-Legs were leaving the camp and disappearing into the surrounding woods.
By the time Christina reached her cabin and returned to Jody, not a single one remained inside the perimeter.
“Are you all right?” a frantic Jody asked. “I couldn’t do anything to help. I’m so sorry.”
The little girl gazed distractedly out of the door, at the Punchinellos who were dancing a victory jig round the maypole.
“I’m OK,” she answered in a voice devoid of emotion. “I don’t have any scared left.”
Out there Lee spat on the ground. “Damn,” he cursed. “Too many got away. They can come back here any time.”
Charm shuddered and he put his arm round her.
Jangler descended from the skelter tower. By the time he reached the ground, he was out of breath and his fright had turned to irritation. He saw Lee with the knife and ordered Captain Swazzle to deal with it. The Punchinello brought his spear to bear and the teenagers threw their weapons down.
“I will not have this!” Jangler berated them. “I will not have you bearing arms. These utensils must never leave the kitchen. If it happens again, there will be the severest punishments. From now on every item of cutlery will be accounted for at the end of each work shift and every meal.”
“Oi!” Charm objected. “We was only stoppin’ them ’orrible fings from makin’ a meal of us!”
“You should be grateful!” Maggie added.
Jangler blustered and wiped his spectacles. Then he sighed and nodded. “Your assistance is appreciated,” he said. “Although I’m sure the Captain and his stout lads would have managed quite well on their own. I shall permit one sausage for each aberrant this morning. Go see to it.”
Maggie and Esther hurried back to the kitchen before he changed his mind.
“What were them fings?” Charm asked.
“They were the Gangle Hounds,” he told her. “A pack of Haxxentrot’s dangerous pets that dwell in and around the Forbidden Tower. Most disagreeable. They never normally leave the vicinity of her dreadful abode.”
“How’d they get under my flamin’ shower?”
The old man fidgeted and looked away. “I don’t know,” he replied, but Charm and Lee could tell he was lying. “A witch’s trick perhaps? That would be so like her. At least they’re gone.”
“For now,” Lee said. “What if they come back, in the night?”
“Oh, most unlikely,” Jangler assured them. “The Doggy-Long-Legs crave minchet fruit most of all, even more than the Punchinellos do. That’s why they were chasing you. They could smell it on your hands from yesterday. They’ll be scampering through the forest right now, headed for the nearest crop and spinning nests in them. They won’t be back, oh, no.”
“But what if more come up that plughole?” Charm cried.
“Yes, that is unfortunate. I shall have that bathroom boarded up at once and made secure. Every damaged door must also be attended to. By the time you return from your work this evening, it shall be done. You females in that chalet will have to use other facilities from now on.”
“I ain’t stoppin’ in that place!” she exclaimed. “I ain’t fick!”
“You must,” he told her. “And that is an end to it.”
“But what about when we wanna go the bog after the lights go off? What we s’posed to do then?”
“I believe there are some buckets in the kitchen. I suggest you avail yourself of one of them.”
“Eewwww! Mingin’!”
“Wait,” Lee began slowly. “Did you say you’re sending us outside, out there – to pick that muck again?”
“Of course. How else are you to earn your keep?”
“Even though you’ve just said those piranha spider mongrels are going to be hiding in them stinking bushes?”
Jangler smiled. “You will have to take especial care,” he advised. “Watch where you put your hands; you’ll be no use without fingers.”
He turned his attention to the innumerable corpses covering the lawn, with the mini forest of jointed legs, bent at every angle. He frowned. This would never do. It would have to be dealt with forthwith. Calling Captain Swazzle over, he started giving instructions.
Lee and Charm walked back to the cabins. Alasdair was standing on the step of his, looking very pleased with himself. Whilst everyone else had been occupied, he had kept his head and made full use of the unexpected diversion by slipping unnoticed into Jangler’s cabin. Maggie’s phone was already being charged and the emails had been sent. It wouldn’t be long now. The world would see what was really going on here.
Gazing across the camp, Alasdair’s eyes rested on Jangler and Captain Swazzle. They appeared to be quarrelling.
“Spear too slow,” Captain Swazzle was growling at the old man. “Not enough quick.”
“But that’s all you use in Mooncaster!” Jangler objected. “Why would you want to change? It’s the Punchinello weapon.”
The Captain gave a thin laugh. “We not in castle now,” he said. “We here – in dream. We say spear no good for dream.”
“Oh, maybe. Perhaps you’re right. This grey place can be confusing. Sometimes I…” He checked himself and wrote on his clipboard. “So I’ll order you and your valiant crew some new weapons. What alternatives would you prefer? Swords? Axes? Crossbows even? How about a mace or two?”
The Punchinello shook his ugly head and his nasal voice demanded, “We want guns. Plenty guns. Bang bang – yes.”
IT WAS ALMOST midday by the time the children were sent out of the camp to work. The Punchinellos had massed the Doggy-Long-Legs bodies in a great pile, including the ones from the kitchen, where Maggie and Esther scrubbed every surface clean. The ration of sausages was received gladly by everyone – except Jody. She let Christina have hers and Maggie gave her two of the mysterious apples to make up for it. They were careful not to let Jangler or the guards know about them, but where had the delicious apples come from? Only Lee knew the answer to that and he pretended to be as ignorant as the rest.
Later that evening, after an exhausting afternoon picking minchet, fearful of what might be lurking within every shadowy thicket, the work parties returned. In their absence, workmen had visited the camp once more and the chewed doors had been crudely boarded over. The entrance to the bathroom in Charm’s cabin had been nailed shut and stout planks had been fixed across the frame.
“Them spider fings could bite through that faster than it takes me to put me lipgloss on,” Charm commented. “This place ain’t safe. I won’t get a wink of sleep now.”
With one bathroom out of commission, the queues for showers in the other chalets were longer than usual. Whilst the children tried to cleanse themselves of the day’s stink and ate their soup, the Punchinellos built a small bonfire, using the workmen’s leftover wood. At first the young internees thought it was to burn the bodies on, but they were wrong. They s
oon realised the five Punchinellos were cooking the Doggy-Long-Legs.
Using their spears as toasting forks, they turned the corpses over in the flames. The spindly legs frazzled and curled up around the charring bodies. A pungent reek of black smoke rose high above the camp. Taking swigs from jars of wine, the guards sang dirty songs. It was customary for the castle guards to celebrate and carouse after winning a skirmish and they intended to play their parts to the nth degree. The one with the half-eaten nose now wore a tight bandage and looked strangely deformed in the company of the others.
Fresh from the shower, Marcus stared out at them.
“Tonight would have been the perfect time to get out of this place,” he said. “They’re getting paralytic. We could escape dead easy.”
“Then where would you go?” Lee asked.
“Nearest village. There’s one a couple of miles that way. We get there, nick a car and burn rubber.”
“And every police force and zombie vigilante in the country will be after you.”
Outside, by the fire, the Punchinello called Yikker put the wine down, sniffed the air and a snarl rippled along his top lip. He turned towards the cabin, where Marcus was standing in the doorway, and clenched his large fists.
“Got to be better than being stuck here with them,” the teenager said, moving out of sight when he saw Yikker glowering at him. “There’ll be another night like this and they’ll get rat-faced again. I’ll have something more definite worked out by then. You coming with me?”
Lee shook his head. “You gotta get a better plan than that!” he said. “Even if you could get over the fence, you wouldn’t last three hours out there.”
Marcus said nothing. He walked back, between the beds, then examined the open area beneath the stairs. Crouching down, he pulled the edge of the beige carpet and peeled it back. There was a sheet of plywood underneath. The chalets were merely wooden boxes, raised off the ground by concrete blocks. Under this floor there was nothing, just a void and then the soil. An idea began to form in Marcus’s mind.