Crater Lake

by Jennifer Killick

  ‘Tomorrow morning,’ says Adrianne.

  ‘So we have to get through one day and one night. That’s not so bad.’ Even as I’m saying it, I know nobody’s going to buy it. We’re basically done and we have twenty-four hours left before we can get out of here. Even if we can avoid being captured by the hunters, there’s no possible way we’re going to stay awake. ‘We need to understand how the spores infect people, and why it only happens when they’re asleep. Maybe we can find some way around the not sleeping thing.’

  ‘Or we need to find a genius way of staying awake,’ says Chets.

  ‘When my baby sister was crying all night, my mum used to take caffeine pills to get her through the days.’ Adrianne is putting a plaster on her blister. Only she would have a first-aid kit in her backpack. ‘Maybe we’ll be able to find some in the centre.’

  ‘OK, caffeine pills,’ I say. ‘Don’t sound like they’d be parentally approved but we can give that a go, if we can find some. What else?’

  ‘Coffee. My mum drinks coffee to wake herself up in the mornings,’ says Chets.

  ‘Yes, coffee is definitely an option, even though it tastes like cow poo. Any other ideas?’

  Everyone looks defeated.

  ‘We just need to keep busy and help each other out,’ I say. ‘Let’s look at Dale’s notes again and see if we can learn anything useful.’

  I get out the notes and put the pages in the middle, so everyone can see them. There’s no wind in this stupidly hot crater, so they’re not going to blow away.

  I pick up a scrap of paper with the title ‘Intracellular Parasites’. It seems as good a place to start as any.

  ‘Guys,’ I say, without looking up from Dale’s scribbles. ‘I think I’ve found something. There’s a lot of really science-y words that I don’t completely understand, but I think what he’s basically saying is that the spores are drawn to unconscious brains. If the mind is awake, the spores can’t take hold.’

  ‘But how do the spores get to the hosts?’ Adrianne asks. ‘Did Digger pump them into the centre through the vents? If he did then we might be safe out here.’

  I read on for a moment. ‘You’re not going to like this. The spores are already in the air, too small for us to see. We have to assume that the whole crater is full of them.’

  ‘So they’re flying around us right now?’ Katja calls down from the tree.

  ‘Yeah, I think so.’

  Chets clamps his hand over his mouth and nose and tries not to breathe.

  ‘You’re awake, Chets, they’re not going to go for you if you’re awake.’

  ‘But that means none of us can go to sleep, at all, until we leave the crater,’ Mak says.

  Everybody visibly shrivels like deflating balloons. Even Katja, though I can’t see her, makes the branches rustle in a way that suggests severe shrivelling.

  I try not to shrivel myself, cos I feel like it’s my job to keep the group’s spirits up, but yeah, it’s pretty much the worst news ever. Then I look at Chets, who still has his hands over his face like the world’s worst gas mask, and I have an idea.

  ‘I’ve thought of something that might help,’ I say. ‘But I’m going to have to go back into the centre to get it.’

  ‘Shall we all go?’ Adrianne starts zipping up her bag.

  ‘No, it’ll be quicker and easier if I go on my own,’ I say.

  ‘You said yourself that nobody should be alone,’ Katja calls down through the leaves. ‘At least take one person with you.’

  ‘Seriously, I’ve got this. I don’t need anyone to come with me.’

  ‘No way,’ says Mak. ‘It’s not happening. Deal with it.’

  I’m annoyed cos this is something I really don’t want anyone else to be involved in. But I can’t argue with my own rules. Chets is yawning his head off and I feel like if I don’t get him moving, he’s just going to fall asleep. Besides, out of everyone, he’s the person I trust the most.

  ‘Come on, Chets – we’re going,’ I say.

  ‘What?’ Chets jumps.

  ‘We’re going on a mission back to the centre.’

  ‘But we’ve only just got here.’

  ‘I know, mate, but this is important – it might mean we can finally get some sleep. And, anyway, you’re my best friend and I really need you with me on this one.’

  ‘Just let me have a drink of water,’ he says. I knew he wouldn’t be able to argue with the best friend card.

  In two minutes, we’re walking back down the hill, leaving the other three to keep watch and examine Dale’s life-saving notes. My legs are screaming at me to stop, but I chew on some gum and do my best to ignore them.

  ‘Chets and Lance on an epic adventure,’ I say, to cheer Chets up. The tiredness is bringing out everyone’s grumpy side.

  ‘We’ll have loads of adventures together at Bing,’ Chets says.

  I don’t know what to say. I know I’m never going to Bing. My grades are average at best. I have a bad attendance record. I have trouble concentrating. Hoche had a black mark against my name long before the whole trapping Trent in the toilet incident. Chets has this blind faith in me cos I saved him from that wasp and basically stopped him from getting picked on through the whole of school. He just doesn’t want to see the truth.

  ‘Let’s get through this first, and then we’ll talk about Bing.’

  ‘Why? Do you think we’re going to die? Or get turned into bug-eyes?’

  ‘I’m not saying that. I just feel like we need to focus our efforts on the task ahead of us.’ That sounds convincing, right?

  ‘What is it we’re going back into that hellhole for anyway?’

  ‘It’s a long story,’ I say.

  ‘So you won’t tell me?’

  I can tell I’ve hurt his feelings. He thinks I tell him everything. Sometimes I get tired of being the responsible adult – he can be such a baby.

  ‘Give me a break, will you?’

  He sniffs, and I can just imagine the look in his chocolatey eyes – like a toddler who just had his cuddly bunny taken away. I can’t deal with this now. We have to get into the centre and we have to get this done.

  We walk in silence, and I’m pretty sure he’s feeling as horrible as I am. It’s only 8am and the sun is burning my skin. I think my freckles have doubled in number since we got here. Usually when you’re in the woods, the air is full of that damp, mouldy leaf smell – the smell of dark green. But the woods right now, they smell the same as everything else – dry, crumbly and dead.

  We’re getting close to the centre and I can hear something that sounds totally out of place.

  ‘What the hell is that?’ I say.

  ‘Pachelbel’s Canon,’ says Chets.

  ‘Say what now?’

  ‘It’s a piece of music. Like classical music. My mum loves it. She finds it very relaxing.’

  ‘Now that makes sense,’ I say. ‘Hoche is trying to get them to fall asleep. She’s probably made them some hot chocolate and is handing out fluffy slippers, too.’

  ‘I want to go home.’

  He sounds so sad that I stop being annoyed with him and want to give him a hug. ‘Tomorrow, Chets. We’ll be going home tomorrow.’

  I wonder how that feels – to be homesick. I miss home, but in a different way. I feel guilty that I’m not there, and guilty that I’m kind of happy to not be there – even with the alien invasion and everything.

  It only seems five minutes since we left basecamp – we should call it basecamp, right? – but we’re already at the treeline.

  We crouch behind some tall ferny stuff.

  ‘Right,’ I say. ‘I’m thinking they’re going to be concentrating on the others in the dining hall. They will have found them by now, and judging by the calming tunes, I’d say they’re trying to get them to crack.’

  ‘That’s bad.’

  ‘It is for them, but it’s good for us. It means we have a better chance of getting in and out undetected.’ Then I have a sudden realisation, like a
kick in the boy bits. ‘How are we gonna get in? None of the doors are proper open and the main entrance is locked.’

  Chets does this little smile. It’s the first smile I’ve seen from him since we got here.

  ‘What?’ I say.

  ‘When I accessed the security system, I set all the doors to unlock,’ he says. ‘We can get in any of them without any trouble.’

  ‘Chets.’ I punch him (gently) on the arm. ‘You’re a legend.’

  We go for the door that’s furthest away from the dining hall. The good thing about the music is that it covers any noises we make. The bad thing is that we won’t be able to hear if someone is coming. So we go carefully – stopping to check ahead and behind whenever we reach a door or a junction. Now that we’re in danger again, the desperate need to sleep eases a little. Not completely though – I still feel it burning in my eye sockets and tugging at my arms and legs, always dragging me down.

  ‘What’s the plan if we run into someone?’ Chets whispers.

  ‘Run,’ I say. ‘Back into the woods if you can, and try to shake them off. If you can’t lose them, then the fridge, I guess. You’ll be stuck in a dead end but you can block the door and buy some time.’

  ‘I hope whatever we’ve come to get is worth the trouble,’ Chets says.

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘Montmorency pupils.’ Hoche’s voice oozes through the tannoy speakers like toxic slime. ‘I hope you are finding the music soothing. I know you’re tired.’ Instead of the shrill voice she usually uses for telling us off and shrieking out orders, she’s speaking in a lower, gentler tone – it’s almost like she’s purring. ‘You’re so very tired and staying awake is too hard. I know your eyelids are drooping. I know your bodies ache to lie down. You don’t have to fight it – no harm will come to you if you give in and close your eyes. You’ll feel better, stronger, more energised. You’ll wake with a clear mind, knowing your place in the world and exactly what you should be doing. The confusion and fear will be gone. So sleep, my lovelies, just sleep.’

  Chets puts his fingers in his ears. ‘Do you think she can hypnotise us through our ears?’

  ‘And for those of you who choose to fight,’ she says, some of that familiar sharpness coming back into her voice, ‘know this: your efforts will be futile. The hive is stronger than you. You will fail. We have other ways of making you sleep.’ The music comes back on – the same tune over and over again. It’s enough to make anyone slip into a coma.

  ‘What other ways, Lance? What’s she talking about?’

  ‘I don’t know, Chets,’ I say. ‘But let’s hurry, cos I don’t want to find out.’

  We’ve reached the sleeping area. Chets keeps lookout at the top of the stairs down to my room, while I go in and grab what I need from where it’s hidden under my bed. It’s heavy, so it will slow us down on the way back, but I think it’s worth the risk. I put it in the empty backpack I brought with me and heave the straps over both shoulders. I can do this.

  Chets nods the all-clear, so I jog up the stairs and we make our way back down the corridor. The music seems louder than before – it fills my head and hums through my body and makes our journey towards the exit feel like a sinister dream sequence. I start to zone out and for a moment I wonder if I have actually fallen asleep and that none of this is really happening.

  That is until we turn into a corridor and see Hoche standing at the other end.

  11

  The Chase

  She sees us at the exact same moment that we see her and starts walking slowly towards us. The look on her face is somewhere between hate and joy and her eyes – her eyes are glowing. The centres of them are dark like the other bug-eyes we’ve seen, but the black is ringed with wasp yellow. While the worker bug-eyes looked blank, free of emotion and expression, Hoche’s look focused and cruel. Like the eyes of a hunter, I guess.

  Other than that, she looks the same: same skirt and jacket, same dangly earrings, same hair that she always puts up in a twist thing, but that always seems like it doesn’t want to stay put. It’s like her hair is trying to escape from her. And of course, she’s wearing her Hoche heels (™).

  ‘Lance and Chetan,’ she says. ‘How delightful to see you.’

  ‘Can’t say the same,’ I say, not moving, waiting to see what she’ll do next.

  ‘Hi, Miss Hoche.’ Chets gives her an uncomfortable smile.

  ‘You two have been giving us quite the run-around.’ She takes another step towards us. ‘You’ve been busy.’

  ‘Yep, busy not turning into alien wasp creatures,’ I say. ‘Unlike you.’

  My brain is running through our options. The corridor that leads to the exit is halfway between us and Hoche, to the right. To reach the corridor we’ll have to run towards her. I’m assuming we’re faster and will get there first, but who knows what becoming an alien does to your running ability. We can either turn back and run to a different exit, which means going much further, or we can risk it. It’s a flipping huge decision. Life or death stuff.

  ‘Come with me now and I’ll overlook the destruction of property, the disobedience, the rudeness and all your other misdemeanours.’ She tips her head to the side. ‘I’ll even forget the incident that occurred at the start of Year Six.’

  It always comes back to this.

  ‘But Lance didn’t do that, Miss Hoche,’ Chets says, so boldly that I’m taken aback. ‘It isn’t fair for you to keep blaming him.’

  ‘You don’t have to defend me, Chets,’ I say, feeling a surge of guilt that’s weirdly similar to that hot, vomity sensation you get at the start of a vicious stomach bug.

  ‘Poor, naïve Chetan,’ she says, moving her head from side to side like she’s warming up for a keep-fit class. ‘You really aren’t aware of what kind of boy Lance is, are you?’

  ‘I know who he is. He’s my best friend and he wouldn’t lie to me.’

  ‘Wouldn’t he?’ she says, looking right at me.

  ‘Ignore her, Chets, she’s just trying to get in our heads,’ I say, wondering if she’s playing for time, waiting for something.

  ‘Tell her once and for all, Lance. Tell her you didn’t trap Trent in the toilets.’ His trust in me is too much, suddenly, and I’m tired and fed up with having to lie about this over and over again. Especially to Chets.

  Hoche smiles, still with the bizarre head and neck movements. ‘Don’t you think your best friend deserves the truth? You’ve been holding him back for years. If you’re such firm friends, he should know what kind of boy you are.’

  ‘Tell her, Lance,’ Chets says.

  I’m tired. I’m stressed. I’m trying to decide what to do, which way to run. I’m trying to find a way out. I’m so, so tired.

  ‘I did it, Chets, OK? I shut Trent in the toilets.’

  ‘What?’ Chets’ face makes my heart hurt. He looks so betrayed. I don’t know what to say to him.

  There’s a half-second break in the music and I hear footsteps behind us. Digger is running down the corridor in our direction. We have Hoche in front and Digger behind. We’re out of time. I have to make a choice.

  ‘I don’t believe it, Lance,’ Chets says.

  Time to make a move. We need a head start.

  ‘I shut Trent in the toilets, and I’m glad I did. He deserved it. He knows what he did and, look, here he comes, so you can ask him about it.’ I point to the corridor behind Hoche. She takes the bait and turns to look, which gives me a chance to grab Chets’ arm and run towards the exit.

  She realises she’s been tricked a moment later and runs towards us shrieking. But we’re going to get to that corridor before she does, I know we are. We have to.

  As we reach the turning, I see Digger arrive where we were standing a few seconds before. They’re not going to let us get away. Not without a fight. But we keep running, cos that’s the only thing we can do.

  ‘Faster, Chets,’ I gasp. I can see the exit.

  There’s a noise behind us like nothing I’ve ever heard be
fore – a gurgling, globby sound. I want to look back but I don’t want to look back. Then something wet and tinged with yellow flies over my shoulder and splats on the wall.

  ‘What the hell?’ I say, and I have to look back.

  Hoche and Digger are right on our tails, just metres away. As I watch, Hoche pulls back her head, bubbling and fizzing. Her human mouth opens and two black pincer things grow out of it, stretching her lips outwards until they roll back on themselves. The pincers click together a few times and then widen to allow a blob the size of a tangerine to fly out of her mouth and towards me and Chets. It is the most horrible thing I’ve ever seen.

  ‘Is Miss Hoche spitting at us?’ Chets pants.

  ‘Something like that, I say.

  The spitball hits the floor by my foot and sort of sizzles in a really disturbing way. If I get through this, I know what my nightmares are gonna be about for the rest of my life.

  We reach the door and push it open. As it swings shut behind us, I hear another spitball splash into it. We’re out of the building, but we’re not safe yet. They’re right behind us and I don’t know how we’re going to get away. We can’t lead them to the others.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Chets asks.

  ‘The lake,’ I say. It’s our only chance to lose them. I lead Chets across the lawn towards the obstacle course – it’ll hold us up, but it should slow the others down, too. We pick our way through the tyres and rope nets as quickly as we can, then storm towards the boat shed.