The Borribles: Across the Dark Metropolis (23 page)
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Authors: Michael de Larrabeiti
Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #Fantasy & Magic
BOOK: The Borribles: Across the Dark Metropolis
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Once this decision had been taken everyone began to move about the two flats with determination and speed. Rucksacks were made ready, catapults and stones were checked and the warmest clothing was chosen. It would be deathly cold along by the Grand Union Canal and the Borribles would need every bit of protection they could get.
During the bustle and activity of these preparations Swish and Treld, who had listened to the arguments about Scooter with great interest, disappeared for a while. When they returned they were carrying as much food as they had been able to find; all of it scrounged from members of the Conker tribe.
‘Take it,’ they said when the Adventurers objected. ‘Hide in one of the empty factories along by the towpath and we’ll bring you some more tomorrow.’
‘Tomorrow,’ said Chalotte, stuffing a raincoat into the top of her rucksack. ‘What do you mean, tomorrow?’
Treld grinned and raked her spiky blue and yellow hair with spread fingers. ‘We mean,’ she said, ‘that there’s no way you can get Sam out of that slaughterhouse without help. We saw. There’s too many Woollies.’
Swish laughed and the safety pins on the front of her jacket jangled. ‘You see, us Conkers want to help you get the horse, so we’re all coming. We’re going to create a diversion for you. It’ll be a bit of fun.’
‘Some fun,’ said Knocker. ‘You could get caught. And what about tonight? What if the coppers come here?’
‘Don’t you worry, Knocker me old china,’ said Swish. ‘This ain’t
the only block of flats we got to live in. You just get on your way and we’ll catch up with yer tomorrow, just past the gasometers. Find a place with a roof and we’ll have a feast.’
the only block of flats we got to live in. You just get on your way and we’ll catch up with yer tomorrow, just past the gasometers. Find a place with a roof and we’ll have a feast.’
Although they were on the run once more and getting closer every minute to the danger of the slaughterhouse, the Adventurers felt relieved; the attitude of the Conkers had cheered them immensely. They pushed their arms through the straps of their rucksacks, doused the lights and crept slowly downstairs, out into the cold and out into the dark.
At the very edge of the tower block the Conkers took their leave and, once more on their own, the Adventurers heaved themselves over the high wall bordering York Way and entered the no man’s land that runs uninterrupted from King’s Cross to Camden Road.
It was well past midnight now and into the early hours. All was quiet except for the soft lapping of canal water and the sound of the icy wind whistling through the decaying walls of the dead factories. Warily, testing each footstep before the next, the Adventurers struck out into the gloom along the towpath of the Grand Union. Ther were no torches in their hands, only loaded catapults. The Borribles were ready for anything for they knew they might have to be.
It was a hard night, cold and cheerless, and the Adventurers spent it in the hollow shell of a huge ruined warehouse. They did not know where they were in that darkness but they could feel the empty space of a drained dock away to the south of them; they could hear the black mud of it noisily sucking at the broken shapes of half-submerged barges and boats.
This part of London was dead, like a place where cholera had killed everything, not only in the water but in the air and on the ground. Even the warehouse had the smell of death about it and it was a smell that kept the Borribles watchful for fear that if they did sleep they might never wake. They sat close together for warmth, side by side against a wall, in the dark, cuddling their knees and staring at nothing, waiting for the dawn of the next day.
When the dawn came it came colder than the night and creaked slowly up over this uninhabited part of London. It was a dawn as pale
and as bloodless as a corpse, a corpse that was soiled and cankered. The Borribles rose and stretched and moved to the holes in the walls that had once been windows. They rubbed their legs and struck each other on the back to warm their bodies, staring out at the landscape that imprisoned them on every side, and all they could see were factories as tall as churches, their girders showing like broken bones, and houses that were rotting into pieces and giving out that stench that was worse than infected flesh.
and as bloodless as a corpse, a corpse that was soiled and cankered. The Borribles rose and stretched and moved to the holes in the walls that had once been windows. They rubbed their legs and struck each other on the back to warm their bodies, staring out at the landscape that imprisoned them on every side, and all they could see were factories as tall as churches, their girders showing like broken bones, and houses that were rotting into pieces and giving out that stench that was worse than infected flesh.
It was like living on the far side of a lifeless planet, undiscovered and unloved. There was not one creature stirring in it; not a man, not a cat, nor a dog, nor a bird. Only the low grey clouds moved, heavy and clumsy with their burden of dirty water, lurching across the sky with nowhere to go.
Knocker sighed. ‘We’d better stay here today,’ he said. ‘The slaughterhouse is only a mile or two further on and we can’t make a move until tonight.’
Vulge began to gather kindling wood from the floor, old battens and laths fallen from walls and ceilings. ‘I might as well make a brew,’ he said. ‘There’s no one to notice the smoke if I do, and a cup of tea will cheer us all up.’
Bingo crouched down to the plank floor and made a few experimental marks with a lump of plaster. ‘The SBG won’t find us here,’ he said, ‘but I think I’d better make a few Borrible signs along the towpath so the Conkers know where we are.’ He ducked through a broken doorway and was gone.
‘I hope the Conkers do come,’ said Chalotte as she watched Bingo disappear. ‘We could do with their help. In fact I don’t see how we stand a chance without it.’
Silently the other Adventurers agreed and, turning from the windows, they sat down again and watched as Vulge took a saucepan from his haversack and filled it from a standpipe. Then they crouched by the fire he had made to wait while the water boiled. There was nothing else to do.
The Borribles stayed under cover all day, there being little to tempt them out into the dreary landscape, but towards dusk, after hours filled with dozing and cups of Vulge’s tea, they were roused to their feet by
the voice of Bingo calling from the towpath where he was still on watch.
the voice of Bingo calling from the towpath where he was still on watch.
‘They’re coming,’ cried the Battersea Borrible, ‘and they look beautiful. Come and see.’
Outside, the edges of the sky had darkened and lowered themselves down to touch the earth. From the clouds the rain slanted, sharp and corrosive like acid, and long squares of shadow had fallen across everything. The surface of the canal was black and the shapes of the stranded barges were once more indistinct, disappearing into the deep mud that would never let them go.
But along the towpath, at a distance of three hundred yards, a long line of human shapes could be seen marching in single file. Each figure bore a golden flashlight and every flashlight scorched a hole as bright as fire across the evening gloom. It was the Conkers, all of them, marching to the aid of the Adventurers so that they could free Sam the horse.
Chalotte came and stood by Knocker’s side, and the others too. ‘Oh,’ she gasped, ‘isn’t it wonderful?’
Nearer and nearer came the girls of the Conker tribe, their torches held high. Now they were close to the Adventurers, climbing up from the side of the canal, over the broken walls and through the crumbling gateway and into the warehouse itself, whirling the torches above their heads to make circles of light in the air.
They were dressed in the finest gear they had been able to find and the torchlight reflected on their bicycle chains and on their barbarous brooches and bangles. Their strange spiky hair glittered with every colour of the rainbow and scintillated with silver stars. There were aerosol designs sprayed on the backs and fronts of their leather jackets and down their ragged trousers. On their faces were gaudy streaks of paint. Each and every one of them was grinning with the excitement of the moment. Warriors eager for battles, they laughed among themselves at the amazement on the faces of the Adventurers, and from the bags they carried they brought forth an immense amount of food and drink. Eventually, when they had covered the windows of the warehouse with old sacks, they sat down and invited their friends to do the same.
The Adventurers had not felt so happy since leaving Brixton. They
had an abundance of food and drink, certainly, but there was something more important than that; here were fifty or sixty friends come to help in that day’s attempt at a rescue. It was a celebration of being Borrible.
had an abundance of food and drink, certainly, but there was something more important than that; here were fifty or sixty friends come to help in that day’s attempt at a rescue. It was a celebration of being Borrible.
‘Only thing is,’ said Napoleon, always wary, ‘we’d better not bolt the stable door before we’ve got away with the horse. Have we got a plan?’
The Adventurers looked at each other, nonplussed. Swish and Treld listened to the silence for a while, smiled, and then Swish spoke: ‘The way I see it is this,’ she said. ‘The best thing us Conkers can do is to create as much noise and mayhem around the slaughterhouse as possible—give the Woollies something to keep them occupied.’
‘Exactly,’ said Treld. ‘And while they are chasing us you others must concentrate on getting the horse out and away.’ Treld had dyed her hair a different colour that night. It was now a brilliant orange and in the glow of the torches it looked like a blazing flame. Round her eyes she had drawn circles in green paint.
Napoleon shook his head. ‘Don’t you realize,’ he objected, ‘that apart from the coppers guarding the place Sussworth’s got carloads of reinforcements just around the corner?’
Swish drank from a can of beer, emptied it and threw it over her shoulder. ‘That’s where we come in,’ she said. ‘See, the slaughterhouse backs on to the canal—we made a mark to show you where it is—but at the front there’s only a narrow yard. You lot come over the wall from the canal, find your horse, go through the slaughterhouse, down the alley and into the main road. We ought to be able to give you a start, ten minutes maybe, time enough for you to get as far as Camden Town and into Chalk Farm. There’s some good Borribles up there, in a scrap-yard. They know you’re coming ’cos we sent a runner. They will hide you for a couple of days and meanwhile we’ll make sure the Woollies chase us.’
‘It won’t be that easy,’ complained Sydney. ‘We’ll be spotted before we get anywhere near Sam.’
‘No we won’t,’ cried Knocker, and he slapped his knee. ‘I forgot to tell you … We know the password that will make the coppers think we’re dwarfs.’
‘Whoopee!’ yelled Vulge. ‘What is it?’
‘Blancmange,’ said Knocker. ‘Blancmange, that’s what is is.’
‘It’ll be blancmange for them Woollies all right,’ shouted Orococco, and he raised his can of beer and drank from it.
Then all the Borribles shouted and leapt to their feet and held their drinks high, their faces shining with joy.
‘Sam the horse!’ they cried. ‘Sam the horse for ever!’ And the cry resounded round the bare brick walls of the abandoned warehouse and made them happy. Nothing could stop them now.
As soon as it was well and truly dark the Borribles set about making their final preparations for the assault on the slaughterhouse. At the very last, when everything else had been done, all the catapults and ammunition were checked and all the torches were extinguished. But just as Treld was on the point of leading the Adventurers outside, one of the Conker lookouts, Mudguard by name, slipped quietly into the warehouse and, in a whisper, commanded everyone to throw themselves to the floor and lie as still as they could. No one was to speak or even cough.
So great was the girl’s urgency that luckily no one thought for a second of disobeying her. The Adventurers and the Conkers waited, lying face down, without moving, on the dirty planks. Five minutes went by, ten minutes, then came the tramp of marching feet just below on the towpath, and louder than the sound of the marching rang the voice of Ninch the dwarf, bellowing orders.
‘Come on,’ he roared. ‘Left, right; left, right. Come on. They may be still there. We’ve got to find out where they are and get after them. Think of the reward. Come on. Left, right.’
Gradually the noise faded in the distance but the Borribles did not move or speak until, with another whispered command to remain where they were, Mudguard disappeared through a window. In two or three minutes she returned and spoke to Swish.
‘I was up the canal a bit,’ she explained. ‘Lucky I was listening and going careful, and lucky they were making such a din. They was about our size but I thought they couldn’t be Borribles, making that noise, they ain’t are they?’
‘No,’ said Swish.
‘Dwarfs,’ said Napoleon. ‘Nasty little spies and traitors.’ In the dark he stretched himself to his full height.
‘There must have been about twenty or thirty of them.’ Mudguard went on. ‘That one who was with you at our place, who ran away, he was leading them. I recognized his voice.’
‘So did I,’ said Napoleon. ‘Which way were they going, back?’
‘Yes,’ said Mudguard, ‘towards the Caledonian Road.’
Knocker looked at Chalotte. ‘I hate to think what Ninch’ll do to Scooter when he finds him.’
‘Ah, but they won’t find him,’ said Swish. ‘The guards will have taken him somewhere else by now.’
Napoleon hitched his rucksack higher on his shoulders to make it sit more comfortably. ‘I don’t mind what they get up to,’ he said. ‘If it keeps the dwarfs out of our way for twenty-four hours they can put the little bleeder through a mincer for all I care … and so much the better.’
As Knocker had said, the slaughterhouse was at no great distance from the hideout, and, after following the towpath for half an hour or so, the Adventurers saw the Conker chalk mark glowing on a crumbling brick wall to their right. This wall had once been high and sturdy, surmounted with shards of broken glass, and had separated the backyard of the slaughterhouse from the canal bank. Over the years it had been worn away by weather and children until now it was little more than knee-high to an adult. Access, over a scrap of wasteland to the sheds and then the streets beyond, was easy. The Adventurers halted and crouched behind the remains of this broken barrier and examined their surroundings. At last they had come to the slaughterhouse; at last they could see it, and smell it too.
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