Braddle and the Giant

by John Mallon

  Chapter 20

  Braddle stood on the rise that led back up to the garage, to the world of giants, and down into the new, tiny-vast metropolis of Carporoo. He looked at the yellow flag hanging limp at the top of the flag pole. It needed the wind to dance but the air lay heavy on the ground, unmoving. He was relieved to be home but something felt different about the city…it felt as if he had caught it, within the darkness of night, undergoing a secret change. He felt as if it was becoming something else; no longer his city, no longer his home. Carporoo was becoming a garden locked behind a high wall that belonged to someone else and that 'someone else' did not like trespassers. This place is just as much mine as it is his, Braddle told himself. It is just as much mother’s, Uncle Malik’s and Grenta’s as it is his. Balls of flickering light spread across the city in all directions. The nearest was on the far side of the Building Materials Repository nearby. He decided to take a closer look and ran down the rise. At the corner of the Repository he stopped. He should be cautious. Pressing himself against the wall, he peered round.

  He pulled his head back quickly. The light was from a burning torch around which a group of soldiers either sat talking quietly or lay dozing on the ground. Why has General Stoo ordered the soldiers on to the streets? It cannot, surely, be for me, can it? He had to get home fast and speak to Uncle Malik… if he was still there. He turned away from the light and ran in to the dark streets of the city.

  The journey home was a long one. He was forced to take many detours to avoid the burning torches of General Stoo. Other than the soldiers nobody else was out of doors. It felt as if the city had been emptied and everyone had been handed over to that Giant Nicholls. He moved carefully through the shadows, down alleyways and through building sites. It was difficult to know, at times, whether he was going in the right direction still but the impossibility of remaining where he was forced him on regardless. Eventually, just as the night time sky was beginning to lighten, he discovered that he was standing at one end of his street. At the opposite end, in the distance, a torch burnt brightly.

  Braddle ran to the nearest house and took refuge behind it. He had to get home. Even though the soldiers were close by he couldn’t give up now. Uncle Malik might still be there, he hoped. If he stayed in the shadows of the row of houses and tiptoed silently from one to the other, like the ghost of a spronger, he could make it home without being seen. The sky was getting lighter. No time to wait. He crept stealthily along the front of each house and ran through the gap between them. His house was the eighth house down. He reached number seven without too much difficulty; the torch was still a way off and the soldiers did not seem to be interested in patrolling the area. Instead, he heard laughter and someone shout ‘Give that here!’ From number seven he looked towards his house. The gap between it and number eight was quite large. That’s strange, he thought, I don’t remember the space between our houses being that big. There were dark shapes in the gap. What are they? He took two steps into the gap and then realised what it was. It was his house. It had been destroyed. They had turned it into a heap of rubble! NO NO NO, he muttered to himself. He wanted to run towards the soldiers and throw himself amongst them. He wanted to punish them; to make them pay but he knew it would be a foolish thing to do. Uncle Malik. He had to find Uncle Malik. One edge of the night sky was beginning to glow. Day would soon be here. He had to hide. He looked past the pile of rubble. Grenta, he said to himself.

  With the soldiers at the end of the street nearby, it was obvious that he couldn’t approach the front door. They would be on him before the door was even opened. The only option then was to try round the back. In the dawn light, Braddle studied the back of the house. There were three windows. The one in the centre was quite large whilst the other two, on either side of it, were a lot smaller. All had curtains drawn across them. The two smaller windows looked like bedroom windows. He had no choice, he realised, but to choose one of them and hope that it led to Grenta’s bedroom. To wait outside was too risky; he needed to be indoors fast. He chose the window on the left. He was about to tap on it when he noticed a crumpled sock on the window sill inside. Would Grenta leave a sock like that on her window sill? he asked himself. I don’t think she would somehow, he concluded. No, I don’t think she would. He decided to try the window on the right instead.

  After drumming gently on the window with two fingers Braddle held his breath as the curtain inside was pulled back a little way. Grenta’s face appeared.

  “Braddle!” he heard her call.

  He raised his finger to his mouth indicating that she should be quiet. He then mouthed that she should let him in whilst pointing at the window. She opened the window quickly.

  “Braddle” she whispered, “where have you been?”

  “Let me get in first” he whispered back.

  He grabbed the window ledge and pulled himself through the open window. He landed on the floor of her bedroom after she tried to help by pulling on his belt.

  “Quick, close the window and curtains” he told her.

  “You look tired” she told him. “Sit down.”

  There were no chairs in her bedroom and so he sat on the corner of her bed.

  “Are you hungry?”

  “No. Not really. I’ve been munching on a Spaghetti Hoop all night but I could do with a drink.”

  “Spaghetti Hoop? What’s that?”

  “I’ll tell you later.”

  Grenta quietly opened her bedroom door and disappeared in to the darkness on the other side of it. Her bedroom was small and sparsely furnished. Besides her bed there was a wardrobe in one corner and a dressing table in the other. On the wall above her bed was a bookshelf. It was full of books. On her dressing table there was, neatly arranged, a hair brush and comb, a small holder with different coloured pencils and a stack of paper. The top of her bed still gave the impression of its occupant having recently made an emergency exit. The pillow had a deep hollow and the blanket was scrunched up and pushed to the side. Braddle moved himself further on to the corner of the bed. Grenta returned carrying a glass of water and handed it to him. He took it from her and gulped it down.

  “What’s happened to our house?” asked Braddle. “Where is Uncle Malik?”

  “It was terrible” said Grenta. “The soldiers came yesterday morning. We heard them breaking the door down and shouting to each other. They then went to all of the houses in the street. They asked whether we knew the whereabouts of your Uncle and you. Father spoke to them. They told him that you were traitors and that if we should see you then we should tell them straightaway.”

  Grenta shook her head.

  “Don’t worry though” she said “I won’t tell them you’re here.”

  “Thanks” he said.

  “A little bit later on” she continued “we heard a tapping on the roof. Father went to have a look and saw your Uncle hiding up there. We got him down and into the house without the soldiers seeing him.”

  “Uncle Malik! He’s here!”

  “Not anymore. When things had quietened down a bit Father and my brothers helped smuggle him to the house opposite.”

  “The house he was working on?” asked Braddle.

  “Yes.”

  “Is he still there?”

  “Well he was last night. Father went and spoke to him.”

  “I’ve got to talk to him now” said Braddle, standing up. “I’ve got to tell him something.”

  “It’s still early” she said. “It would be better to wait until its daylight. Father can help you get over there. You don’t want the soldiers to get you.”

  Braddle sat back down.

  “Alright. I’ll wait a little longer.”

  He rubbed his face with his hands and stifled a yawn.”

  “But what happened to our house?”

  “In the afternoon, before your Uncle had left, the soldiers came back with someone important. We could hear them calling him General. He was here only a couple of minutes. When the soldiers start
ed to smash the house up, he disappeared. Your Uncle wanted to run out. He said that he would snap the thin thing with the shiny armour like a twig. Father had to hold him down otherwise he would have done it.”

  “Yes, that sounds like Uncle Malik” said Braddle.

  Braddle stifled another yawn. Now that he knew that his Uncle was safe and hadn’t fallen in to the hands of General Stoo and his Giant, fatigue began to claim a hold over him.

  “What happened to you?” asked Grenta. “Where have you been?”

  Braddle told her about how Drostfur and he were taken prisoner by General Stoo; about General Stoo’s plan to take control of the city and how he had a giant helping him; about his escape and meeting with Alfie; and how Alfie had discovered who General Stoo’s giant was and how they had agreed that Alfie was to stop this giant and force him to return the prisoners.

  “I am certain that this Giant has my mother” said Braddle “and he might even have…”

  He hesitated and looked at his hands.

  “Your father?” Grenta asked.

  “Yes” he said. “That’s why I need to speak to my uncle right away. Drostfur is organising the resistance and he needs uncle’s help. I need to tell them that Alfie will defeat General Stoo’s giant and all of our people will be coming back.”

  “Are you sure that Alfie can do this? If he’s General Stoo’s giant then he must be horrible.”

  “Mr Nicholls is his name and I am sure that Alfie could eat him for breakfast” said Braddle.

  Braddle could not stifle it any longer. The yawn was just too strong and had the force of about ten suppressed yawns.

  “It’s still very early” said Grenta. “You need to have a rest. You won’t be able to help anyone if you are exhausted.”

  Braddle was about to protest but he had to acknowledge that he did feel exhausted. The day ahead was going to be an eventful one and he needed to be alert and strong to face it.

  “Alright. I’ll have a short rest but you must promise to wake me in about an hour.”

  She agreed.

  “You have the bed” she told him. “I’ve got some chores to be doing round the house. No one will disturb you here.”

  Grenta left and closed the bedroom door behind her. Braddle felt weary. Just a quick sleep he told himself. There’s no point getting in the bed. I’ll just lie on top. He placed his head in the hollow and was asleep by the time his eyelids closed.