He was now bending over her, hand extended, and acting the part of being her one, true, gallant knight in shining armour, coming courageously to her timely rescue.
“No thank you,” she said primly pushing Roger off to one side and dusting herself down. “I’m quite all right and can take care of myself, so you can all just leave now and let me be, thank you very much,” she finished firmly, getting to her feet and preparing to walk away.
“Oh no, I don’t think so, missy, I really don’t think so!” Josh chortled with an evil grin.
“I think we should be much more friendly; we’ll ‘av’ ourselves some fun an’ games first; now won’t we, eh, lads?”
His like-minded gang chortled along, mindlessly agreeing with their leader’s every word.
Mary now fully realized that she was in something of a tight spot. The hackles on the back of her neck were rising, and flushes of scarlet were beginning to appear in her cheeks. Yes, she was feeling scared, but what she was also starting to feel, even more than that, was angry. And this was not a good thing, because when Mary got angry, there was no telling what sort of damage and destruction might ensue.
However, Roger spoke up before Mary could say or do anything further.
“L-l-look here, Josh, you don’t have to b-b-bother with her. It’s me you’re after, isn’t it, not her? She’s just a g-g-girl, after all. So why not just l-l-let her go, eh?”
Roger was desperately trying to think of something that would get Mary off the hook and, also possibly save his own bacon as well. He knew that they were always interested in getting money. Josh and his gang came from the same village that Roger came from. And in fact, most of their dads knew Roger’s dad very well, because of him being the Chief Accountant at the local Wood-Mill, where their dads all worked. A fact which he well-knew made him even more of a prime target for their bullying, but maybe he could turn that fact to his advantage.
“How ab-b-bout I promise to p-p-pay you a ransom, Josh? If you l-l-let us go that is?”
Roger waited hopefully for Josh to respond in a positive way, banking on his being easily tempted by common greed and well knowing his dad was an important and wealthy man. However, greed wasn’t the only vice in Josh’s repertoire of the seventy-seven deadly sins.
But Roger could see Josh wasn’t going to play along; he indeed had other vile vices and cruel games in mind. Ones that consisted of pain, torture, humiliation and violence. He just sneered and looked down at Roger as if he was nothing but a lowly bug, something small, and insignificant, there just to be squashed.
Josh shifted his smirking gaze back to Mary.
“I know what,” he gleefully announced, “I’ve got a better idea. I think we’ll plays us a game of Cowboys an’ Injuns; a sort of hunt the injuns game!”
He looked back at Roger, meanly and meaningfully. “That’ll be a much better idea, now don’t you think so, Bodger, me little ol’ bug boy, eh?”
These bullies really are just like those packs of Higheenas I’ve read about that live down in Darkest Afrikaa, Roger thought to himself, aghast.
He didn’t know what else to think or say. So, he got to his feet and dusted himself down, and then he just stared at the ground and grew steadily more like a beetroot in complexion. He was scared, and he was embarrassed, but all mixed up, all together and at once.
“We’ll be the Cowboys of course, an’ missy ‘ere can be your squaw,” continued Josh, then he walked up close to Roger and poked him repeatedly and painfully in the chest.
“What about you, Bodger, are you up for bein’ an Injun then?” he sneered daringly at him. “Fancy yer chances of rescuing yer squaw ‘ere from us Cowboys an’ goin’ on the war-path, do yer, eh?”
Roger felt his heart thumping in his chest. His mouth felt as dry as sandpaper, and his usual trusty and logical ‘scientific’ brain was all fogged up with nowhere to go. The gang of brutish bullies were now openly and blatantly laughing at him.
“Look, he’s goin’ to cry,” yelled out one of them, pointing derisively at him. “Brainiac Briggs is a blubbering bug, ha-ha-ha!”
“You leave him alone, he’s not done anything to you, you morons!” Mary screamed out.
“Now, now,” said Josh, using his very best ‘smoothy’ manner again, “we’re not really gonna hurt him; well, not that much, me darlin’. But I’ll tell you what I’ll do, if you’re really, really nice to us poor, lonely boys, then, I promise yers, we’ll be quite nice to ol’ Bugsy Boy ‘ere; now ‘ow does that sound?”
Mary glared at Josh in disbelief. If looks could kill, Josh was dead! Josh was a cinder!
But something now snapped in Roger’s head. All logic was switched off, and all and any sense of self-preservation had gone with it. He could not let this happen. It was just too much, an innocent girl, a total stranger, put in danger by his blind, blundering panic and cowardly running away from danger.
He stepped in front of Mary and clutched his satchel tightly to his chest, and said to her as firmly and as boldly as he possibly could, “I’m so s-s-sorry, miss, I really didn’t mean to g-g-get you involved in any of this. You r-r-run for it, I’ll hold them off for as long as I can!”
At this, Josh wheeled swiftly around and angrily smacked Roger with the back of his black gloved hand, striking the side of his head. Roger reeled and was momentarily stunned and dazed and fell to his knees.
He then heard himself yelling at the top of his voice, “Go, Miss, run! Please, please run!”
Even while being scared out of his wits, Roger still somehow managed to maintain his natural politeness towards the fairer sex.
But the gang of vile yobs now gathered ever closer around him. Eager to give him a good bashing and pummel him to a bloody pulp. He was caught in a ring of hate and ignorance, and there seemed to be no escape.
He gripped his satchel and suddenly felt the weight of it. It held but a few slim books and some other science related bits and pieces. It wasn’t the best of weapons by any stretch of the imagination, but it did have, sitting in its bottom, an ammonite fossil he’d collected while on holiday with his parents in South Devonia, in the West End Country.
This fossil gave the old school satchel a certain amount of much needed physical heft.
Roger sprang and, whirling the satchel, gave Josh a quick, single blow to the head.
The surprised thug clutched at his scalp, screaming and reeling in pain. “Why, you little, squirmin’ worm! Get ‘im, guys, get the bleedin’, ‘orrible worm now!” he raged.
The gang threw themselves at Roger as one, like a many-limbed, ravenous beast, hungry and hell bent on its blind revenge and bloody kill!
That’s it, I’ve had it, Roger briefly thought as they charged, fists and cudgels raised.
He screwed his eyes up tight and then felt a moment of brief regret. He had never gotten the chance to complete his own museum collection, and who on Erf was going to look after his pet insects at home now; and what about his precious Fleas? What would happen to them? He stood silent and stoic, ready for the blows to rain down.
But none came. Instead, he heard a loud, bloodcurdling, battle cry.
He then, very bravely and very cautiously, opened one eye.
He then opened both eyes, and saw, standing in front of him, an extremely furious Mary. She was screaming and cussing and was effectively thrashing at the cowering thugs with two, long branches of bramble, that she deftly cracked about her like two, flashing, thorny whips!
“Aaaargh!” Josh cried out in pain, as one of Mary’s makeshift whips caught him around the head, leaving a nasty looking welt, blazoned redly across his left cheek.