Fighting Pax. Robin Jarvis

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СКАЧАТЬ for breath, he watched the doctor move in and out of his line of sight and heard the ring of metal against metal as she sorted through her instruments. When she crossed his vision again, she was holding a syringe.

      “You can’t do this!” Spencer rasped, sweating in horror. “I’m not a specimen you can cut up and examine. When Martin finds out, he’ll tell the Chief of the General Staff. They’ll have you shot – you’re raving mad!”

      Doctor Choe disappeared again as she moved to the drugs cabinet and unlocked it. He heard the door open and the clink of small bottles as she examined the labels.

      Spencer wrenched and heaved on the straps. He contorted his hands and feet and tried to slip them free, but the restraints were too strong and tight. There was nothing he could do. He turned his face as far to one side as he could, only to find himself staring at his dead neighbour. The boy grimaced and peered through his spectacles at the macabre sight. When the doctor had fallen against it, she had displaced the Marshal’s arm and it was now hanging over the side. Tark the Shark was still clutching a green book in his hand. Even in death the Jaxers didn’t let go of it. His blood dotted the cover.

      Spencer’s mind was racing. He couldn’t break free, he couldn’t call for help, what else could he do? What else? He remembered back in the camp, when he’d been at his lowest, and had wanted to run outside after curfew so the Punchinellos would shoot him. Marcus had saved him then and made him realise that you had to keep battling, you had to keep looking for chances – you never gave up. But what chances were there here? Unless someone came barging in to the rescue, he was done for.

      “Was Chief who lift restriction,” the doctor’s voice informed him. “Martin Baxter, him only important for study. His brain should be most interesting. Reason for immunity must be found. Democratic People’s Republic depend on my skill to find answer. I must create vaccine.”

      “Brain?” the boy gasped. “You want our brains? You really are sick in the head. It’s your brains what need bottling! You’re out of your ruddy skull!”

      “Brain of subjects only first avenue of study,” she told him. “Other organs may also hold clue that is vital.”

      “There is no cure, you silly cow! It’s not a disease. When are you going to start listening to us? It takes you over. It’s evil – full stop. You get possessed. There’s no vaccine for that.”

      He heard her flat heels turn on the tiled floor and, moments later, she was leaning over him. The syringe was no longer empty and a bead of clear liquid glistened on the needle’s tip.

      “Lethal injection?” he asked, almost hysterical with fear. “That’s just wonderful that is. You’re putting me down like Old Yeller!”

      “No lethal,” she corrected coldly. “Enough barbiturate to induce sleep or coma only. Point three five gram for now. Lethal dose might damage brain.”

      “Oh, gee, bless you. You’re not going to kill me until after you’ve scooped out my skull. That’s really considerate.”

      Her hand reached for his face. She wasn’t going to inject straight into his head, was she? He flinched as much as the strap across his throat allowed. He closed his eyes, expecting to feel the needle’s sting, but Doctor Choe was only removing his glasses. He felt them pulled from his nose and heard them being set on the counter. Then her gloved fingers pushed the cuff of his overcoat up his forearm as she selected a vein beneath his pale, European skin.

      And then a wild and crazy idea flashed into his mind.

      “Beyond the Silvering Sea!” he said, as loud as he was able. “Within thirteen green, girdling hills, lies the wondrous Kingdom of the Dawn Prince.”

      Back in Britain he had been forced to read that book so many times he knew most of it by heart.

      Doctor Choe Soo-jin blinked at him in surprise and annoyance. Above the surgical mask her eyes narrowed.

      “No speak,” she ordered.

      “Yet inside his White Castle, the throne stands empty!” he continued defiantly. “For many long years he has been lost in exile and thus the Ismus, his Holy Enchanter, reigns in his stead.”

      The woman felt a strange prickling sensation crawl up the back of her neck. She gazed about the lab and it seemed to darken. Deep shadows crept out from beneath the counters and behind the sinks, seeping up through the floor. The dead fingers of Marshal Tark Hyun-ki quivered as the book they held twitched and tugged to get free.

      In the vault, the metal box containing the wand of Malinda began to tremble and judder. On a shelf close by, the jaw of the unicorn skull opened slowly and the darkness seethed and breathed around it.

      “Till the day of his glorious returning,” Spencer persisted, almost spitting the words out, “and the restoration of his splendour evermore!”

      Overhead a fluorescent strip popped and the lab dipped into deeper gloom. Another bulb began to flicker. The syringe fell from Doctor Choe’s grasp. It dropped to the ground and she gripped the metal table for support as her head swam. The paper mask blew in and out of her mouth. A fresh morning breeze seemed to be moving through her hair. Sunlight was filtering through the fresh green leaves of spring. It was another ravishing day in Mooncaster and she had come to the bluebell woods with the other young girls from the village to wash her face with dew…

      “For that day approaches,” Spencer recited, and now his voice was strong and reverberated in her ears. “The Lord of Rising Dawn is drawing nigh. He is returning to the land that was his. His light shall crown the hills with crimson flame and we shall bow before his unmatched majesty.”

      “No!” the doctor declared vehemently. “I am Soo-jin!”

      The spring light faded and the creeping shadows in the lab retreated. Breathing hard, she ripped the mask from her mouth and turned a stern, vengeful face on Spencer. The boy’s voice had dwindled back to a compressed whisper.

      Doctor Choe stooped to retrieve the syringe. As she crouched, she heard something drop to the floor. Glancing under the table, she saw that the book had fallen from the Marshal’s hand. It was splayed open, white pages facing the ceiling. As she looked, one of them curled over, disclosing a black and white illustration of peasant maidens gambolling through bluebells.

      The doctor straightened and hurried around. But, when she reached the space between the tables, the floor was empty. The book had gone.

      She glared at Spencer suspiciously. The boy was still strapped down. He couldn’t have moved it. Her doubtful glance darted aside to the Marshal’s body. She scowled, angry with herself for even thinking such a thing was possible. So where was the book?

      Beneath one of the sinks came the sound of rustling paper. The doctor drew back. Spencer fell silent and their eyes locked. He had only tried to get her hooked on the words of Austerly Fellows. He had no idea what forces he had awakened. Reading her concern was gratifying though and he couldn’t stop a smirk stealing on to his face.

      There was another dry fluttering of pages. This time it was behind the blood analyser.

      “Big mice you’ve got here,” the boy said mockingly.

      Doctor Choe stepped away and went to the tray of surgical knives. She took up the largest scalpel and held it out in front as she approached the analyser. Cautiously, she leaned over and peered down into СКАЧАТЬ