A Plague of Hearts, Patrick Whittaker [good books to read for 12 year olds TXT] 📗

this? You’re a sweet, compassionate person and you would not turn me away because of my deformities. But inside you would be filled with horror, revulsion and - worst of all - pity.
For the sake of both of us, we can never be lovers again. At least not in this world. And without you, nothing makes sense anyway.
Please don’t grieve for me. I go willingly, and thanks to you, I have found more joy in my few short years than most people could know in a thousand lifetimes.
Once again - I love you.
Shadrack.

The March Hare folded the note and handed it back to the Mad Hatter. Neither spoke for a moment. Leaning forward on his elbows, the Hatter tapped idly at the tea pot with his fingernail.
‘Was it true?’ said the March Hare. ‘About his face falling apart?’
The Mad Hatter nodded. ‘According to Ormus, he would quickly have reverted to the way he was when they brought him back from the War Zone.’
‘And Ormus knew that?’
‘Not to begin with. In fact, he had no conception of the possibility until he read this note. He’s quite upset by it all.’
‘How’s Lisa taking it?’
‘She doesn’t know yet. So far the only people aware of what’s happened are you, me and Ormus.’
‘And how long do you think you can keep from telling her?’ The March Hare slapped an angry paw on the table. ‘Damn it, Hatter! She has a right to know.’
Undoing the top button of his shirt, the Mad Hatter stood and pushed the note towards the March Hare. ‘So you tell her. Give her this and let her know her boyfriend’s just died all over again.’
The March Hare backed away. ‘Now wait a minute. That isn’t fair.’
‘Fair? No, it’s not fair. It’s not fair that Shadrack suffered like he did, and it’s not fair that Lisa’s going to have her heart broken all over again. But don’t let that stop you. You go right ahead and tell her everything. Like you say, she has a right to know.’
‘Maybe later.’
‘Sure,’ said the Mad Hatter. ‘There’s always later.’
*
‘You know, I feel quite sorry for them,’ said Lisa. She and Julie were standing by the window making a pretense of examining their make-up in the mirror of Julie’s compact. Actually, they were covertly scrutinising the three gerbils who stood in a restless huddle in the far corner.
‘Especially the one on the left. He looks so cute and helpless.’
‘With that bloody great rifle in his hands?’ Julie rolled her eyes. They both giggled.
Behind them, Doctor Ormus leaned against an empty book case and brooded. His face was drawn into an anxious mask that showed both his feelings and his age.
Earlier, Julie had tried to draw him out on the reason for his tenseness and he’d been abrupt with her. So now she wasn’t talking to him.
At least she’s hitting it off with Lisa, he told himself. It’ll do them both good to get to know each other. Though I doubt that it can do much for my own personal relationship with the girl.
Elsewhere in the room, which had once been the main dormitory at Mrs. Pogue’s, the Mock Turtle and the Grey Squirrel were seated at opposite sides of a table, drinking wine and discussing politics. For once, the Grey Squirrel’s anorak seemed almost tasteful, but that might have been because the Mock Turtle was dressed in a piebald suit that was part pink, part yellow. His shirt with its zigzag motif clashed perfectly.
The two girls laughed at a private joke. Lisa closed her compact and placed an affectionate hand on Julie’s shoulder. Both girls seemed remarkably relaxed, almost as if they were at a party.
The door opened. All conversation in the room broke off as the Mad Hatter strolled in. He was closely followed by the March Hare, who staggered breathlessly into the room.
Julie let out an audible gasp. ‘Your shirt - ’
‘Pretty, isn’t it?’ said the Mad Hatter. ‘I’m thinking of opening a boutique. This is just the thing to capture the public imagination. It’s what you might call designer outrage.’
‘Or self-mutilation,’ said Doctor Ormus. ‘I thought you got over that sort of thing.’
‘I felt it was time for a revival. The razor blade has such a sweet kiss.’
‘Suppose I said I didn’t feel you were in a fit state to lead this group? It’s my opinion that you’re mentally unsound.’
‘And this from a man who has psychotic visions. Mechanical lizards, indeed!’
‘I could have you certified.’
‘I already have been. If you were to look in my bedroom, you would see a framed Certificate of Clinical Insanity hanging on the wall. And it’s valid for another three years.’
The Grey Squirrel knocked back the remainder of his wine. ‘So you’re the Big Cheese? I should have known.’
‘No, you shouldn’t,’ countered the Mad Hatter. ‘It’s supposed to be a secret. If you’d known it, I would have had to kill you.’ He glanced around the room, doffed his top hat towards the gerbils. ‘Glad to have you aboard, gentlemen. These must be trying times for you.’
One of them stepped forward. The March Hare recognised him as the Driver. ‘Just give us a crack at the Panda,’ he said. ‘That’s all we ask.’
‘No sooner said than done. Because tonight’s the night we make our move.’
The March Hare caught his breath. He wondered if he was expected to fight.
‘Is that wise?’ asked the Mock Turtle, turning his sad eyes on the March Hare. For a moment, their faces reflected each other’s misgivings. ‘I don’t think any of us are ready for this. You might have warned us.’
‘I couldn’t take the chance, my friend. I’m as loyal a subject of the King as anyone here, but I really wouldn’t want him to catch wind of our intentions. I know he has a spy in our organisation, and I really don’t mind that. But he has a habit of letting his secrets end up on the desk of the Panda. And we wouldn’t want that, would we.’
‘The King’s on our side.’
‘Sure he is. But there are certain of his Ministers who are altogether too sympathetic towards the Panda. As much as I hate to say it, the King’s a security risk.’
‘He could give us a lot of help.’
‘If it’s anything like the help he’s already given us, then we can do without it. Tomorrow when this is all over, you have my blessing to send him a complete report.’
‘You know I’m his man?’
‘I’ve known for a long time, and that’s why I’ve kept you out of the way. Frankly, the less His Majesty knows, the better I like it.’
‘I have some intelligence from him anyway. It concerns TARTS.’ The Mock Turtle paused uncertainly.
‘Go ahead,’ said the Mad Hatter. ‘From now on, we’re going to be sticking pretty close to each other. If there are traitors here, they won’t have any chance to betray us.’
‘Well, you must be wondering why TARTS hasn’t been used as an offensive weapon since the unfortunate incident at Gerbil Town. According to my sources, something went wrong with the machinery shortly afterwards. I’m no scientist so don’t expect me to go into any great detail. All I can tell you is that something called a vector gauge blew out, which meant they could no longer control the direction of the beam.
‘Anyway, they’ve nearly fixed that now. It seems they got a replacement from somewhere.’
‘From me, I’m afraid,’ Ormus muttered unhappily. ‘The Penguin came by the other day and demanded that I hand it over. I’m really sorry but I had no idea of its purpose. Peregrine Smith left it with me many years ago.’
‘It seems then,’ said the Mad Hatter, ‘that we have less time than we thought. Once they get TARTS working again, we don’t stand a chance. Instinct told me that tonight was the night for our coup d’etat, and this proves I was right.’
‘Right, schmight!’ said the Cheshire Cat, strolling in through the open door. He hopped onto the table and looked from left to right, as if to evenly distribute the effect of his smile. ‘Just come to tell you that everything’s ready when you are, Boss.’
The Mad Hatter clapped his hands together. ‘Splendid! Let’s not waste any time. We’ve got one hell of a night ahead of us and I’m rather looking forward to it.’
‘But what’s the plan?’ asked the Grey Squirrel.
‘Simple. You and the March Hare stay with me and the rest follow the Cheshire Cat. He’ll take you downstairs where you’ll find combat uniforms and rifles. And then you’ll go on to the banks of the Tired River and wait for the signal to attack the Bunker. Doctor Ormus has all the details and he’ll fill them in for you as you go along.’
‘Am I to take it,’ said the March Hare, still groggy from the marijuana, ‘that you expect to overthrow the Panda with just a handful of men?’
‘Indeed not, you furry fool. Out there is a whole army of able body men and women. They’ve been hiding in the barn. If you look out of the window, you might just catch the last of them getting into the army trucks.’
‘Great plan,’ said the Mock Turtle, with obvious sarcasm. ‘We just charge the bunker and that’s it - two thousand Blue Shirts throw down their arms and surrender.’
‘My plan is a bit more devious than that,’ said the Mad Hatter. ‘I’m going to tip the scales so far in our favour they’ll probably break. Tonight, we have nothing to fear but fear itself.’
‘Fear, schmear!’ said the Cheshire Cat. ‘The way I see it is simple. Keep your claws sharp and your tail up and the world’s your lobster.’


16. The Fourth Card

When the others had left and the last of the army trucks had gone, the Mad Hatter led the March Hare and Grey Squirrel out onto the back terrace. The night was rich with country smells that carried a hint of nostalgia - apple blossom and freshly turned earth. Tranquility ruled supreme.
A low picket fence mapped the limits of Mrs. Pogue’s back yard. Beyond that, fields of corn swept in a golden array to the horizon, merged with a sky that was awash with starlight. There are nights when stars are stars - very pretty but no more than that. And there are nights when the firmament is covered in a soft mist, as if seen through a veil of tears. On such nights, one can only look and wonder.
‘Endless,’ said the March Hare. ‘That’s the only way to describe it. A sky like this is a glimpse of eternity.’
The Grey Squirrel stepped down off the terrace. He kicked idly at an empty beer can. ‘When you’ve seen one sky, you’ve seen them all.’
‘You speak like someone who’s never seen anything,’ said the Mad Hatter, settling into the inevitable rocking chair.
‘I speak as a proletarian,’ said the Grey Squirrel. ‘One day the stars will be ours to do with as we wish. When that day comes, I’ll be glad of their existence. But until then, they count for nothing.’
‘They count for everything,’ objected the March Hare. ‘When you look into such a sky, you begin