Kit?
A bit busy at the moment, actually, Jim, her voice says in my head. I can hear an echo of Pippa’s mind as well, the two of them keeping close contact as they work in different parts of the building.
Yeah, but this is important, I think tensely, my eyes still scanning the darkness. You know how you left me alone up here?
Sweetie, if you just called to complain to me –
I don’t think I’m alone up here.
There’s a pause. Are you sure? Pippa’s voice says eventually.
I’m sure. I’ve felt something in these woods since we moved here. I just thought it was me going nuts, but it’s like me feeling the Orb. I can sense something in here with me. I lick my lips. And I don’t think it likes me.
Again there’s a pause. Are they not listening to me? I know there’s a battle going on down there, but I’m scared out of my wits up here.
James, listen to me, Kit says at last. You can’t trust your senses. You’re feeling scared, and your instinct is to run out of the woods and down to the school, right?
Too flipping right.
Well, what if it’s the Orb making you feel like that, to trick you into coming down? Kit says. I know you’re frightened, but down here is the most dangerous place you can be right now, and not just because of the Orb. Things are… a little hairy down here.
Is everyone alright? I ask sharply.
We’re all fine, Pippa reassures me, but you’re better off up there. Try putting a protection shield around you if you’re wor-hungh!
Pippa’s voice flickers out.
Pip? Kit says. PIP?
What is it? I call. Kit, what’s wrong?
But she doesn’t answer. Completely forgetting about what may or may not be in the woods behind me, I stand up and look down at the school. My mind sweeps backwards and forwards over it, searching for any sign of the twins.
I can’t find them. They’re not there.
I run down the hill.
I’ve fallen over twice and twisted fifteen ankles by the time I reach the library door. Did Kit say the library was a possible entrance point?
Too late to ask her now.
I try to quiet my gasping breath, grab the handle and pull. The whole thing makes a terrible racket as it gives a little, then bounces back into position.
Locked.
I jump about in frustration until I remember that Mr Lancer unlocked his car with his brain. I focus and feel into the lock with my mind. A couple of pins and a rotating barrel later, and I’m in.
I shut the door quietly behind me and look around. The room is full of bags and coats and empty violin cases, but no people. I weave my way around the debris, getting my foot caught in one of the straps of a pink backpack as I go, and reach the far door. I shake off the backpack and slip out into the dark corridor beyond, only to run slap-bang into someone.
‘Oh, sorry,’ I say.
The man turns around. It’s Phil the groundsman.
‘Hoosh!’ I say and dash back into the library. I duck into the librarian’s alcove and press myself up against the wall, just as Phil and the gardener charge into the library and race past me towards the outside door. Jackets and satchels go flying in every direction.
Phew. That was close.
‘No hiding in the library.’
‘Gak!’ I say. It’s the librarian, hiding in the shadows behind me. She makes a grab at my sleeve but I duck, race out of the alcove, fall into the corridor, fling my mind at the door and lock it fast.
Blimey.
I pick myself up, run quietly up a stairwell and gain the upper corridor. Peering around the corner, I gaze down its length to make sure this time that it’s empty. It is, but still I’m hesitant to slip out into it – it’s brightly lit and exposed.
Suddenly a loud bang comes from behind me. I glance over my shoulder, hoping the library door is as solid as it looks, and hurry down the hall, all the time searching for evidence of Pippa and Kit.
I don’t find any. I do have to duck into an empty classroom, though, as Tracy Beckett storms down the corridor towards me, screaming, ‘Has anyone seen my elf shoes?’
What’s with that girl? Who does she think she’s talking to?
She passes by and I continue on down the hall. When I get to the end I hear scuffling and giggling. I turn the next corner to find a common room full of sixth-graders in Santa suits, pulling each other’s hats and beards off as they wait to troop into the hall. I’d back up, but I don’t know how else to get to the headmaster’s office, so I start ducking through the crowd.
I’m halfway through the room when I spot the reception lady over to my left.
She spots me too, and wades implacably into the sea of red and white, coming straight at me like an ocean liner. I start pushing people out of my way, treading on their toes, elbowing them in the face and generally making myself unpopular, hoping the turmoil I’m creating might slow her down. I burst out of their midst into another hallway that leads straight to the office area.
I run down it and find myself in the middle of a full-scale battle.
Seven staff members, plus Mum and Garth, are all charging about the place with Will, Mr Lancer and Claire trying to fight them off. Mr Lancer is pinning Mum and Garth to the wall with a white protection shield, while he parries blows from Mr Bentley with a plastic chair. Will has torn off the antlers of a nearby reindeer and is slashing at two more teachers with them. Claire, hair flying and lip bleeding, smashes a laptop into the head of Miss Lassen, then cries out, ‘Oh, God, I’m really sorry,’ as her favourite teacher goes tumbling to the ground.
I don’t understand. There were only supposed to be two of them guarding Mr Grayson’s office.
I sense movement behind me, and throw up a protection shield as I swing around to see the base of a fire hydrant rushing at my head. It and the reception lady go flying backwards, and I speed into the fray to help.
I’m not much help. We’re outnumbered, and our assailants seem to like throwing things. I fling away a pot plant that’s flying at Claire’s head, only to cop a stapler in my own. Mr Lancer can’t keep Mum and Garth out of danger and fight with his mind at the same time, and as good as Will is at pain and destruction, these people are actually innocent, however dangerous, so he can’t go all-out at them. It’s pretty clear that we’re losing the fight.
Before long the four of us find ourselves bailed up in a corner near Grayson’s office. The teachers pick up whatever is closest to them, and start closing in on us. Mum and Garth escape Mr Lancer’s waning protection shield and follow suit.
‘What the hell are you doing here?’ Will says to me as we all back away. ‘Kit told you to stay put.’
‘Where is she?’ I ask.
‘In the hall, where d’you think?’
‘She’s not,’ I tell him. ‘She disappeared.’
He looks at me incredulously. ‘She what now?’
Why doesn’t anyone ever believe me when I tell them someone’s disappeared?
‘She went off-line,’ Mr Lancer answers for me. ‘She and Pippa, ten minutes ago. Not sure why.’
‘And when were you going to tell me this?’ Will says tetchily.
‘I was about to, but something came up,’ Mr Lancer replies, eyeing the mass of mindless humanity bearing down on us. ‘We need to even the odds a little here before someone gets hurt.’
‘Any bright ideas?’ Will asks, waving the antlers in front of him menacingly.
Suddenly the door to Grayson’s office bursts open, and Jem comes out holding a sword in one hand and a bunch of envelopes in the other. ‘Found them,’ he says, waving the envelopes about. Then he spots me and smiles. ‘Hey, you came!’ he says, as if I’ve just shown up at his birthday party.
‘Jem, where’s Pippa?’ I ask him. ‘Wasn’t she with you?’
‘Yeah, but we couldn’t find the talisman thingies at first, so she… Hang on.’ He thrusts the envelopes at me, raises his sword, blocks the monitor that Mr Bentley is swinging at his h
ead, and pushes him backwards over Mum’s desk. Jem watches his teacher crash to the floor on the other side before turning back to me. ‘She went to check in the main office.’
‘That main office over there?’
‘Yep.’
‘The one beyond all the zombie staff creatures?’
‘That’s the one.’
‘Right,’ Mr Lancer says briskly, grabbing an envelope from me and reading the name on the front. ‘Let’s get these good people thinking again and get to that office. Oh, Miss Lassen,’ he calls to the English teacher, who is trying to strangle Claire with a bit of tinsel. ‘Could I have a word?’
Then he walks casually up to his zombified colleague and brings her toppling to the ground with an expert sweep of the leg. He pins her down with a mini protection shield and empties the contents of the envelope over her. A few hairs float out. As soon as they touch her struggling form she goes slack, her eyes closed, her limbs spreading over the floor.
As soon as she stops moving, the rest of our attackers start again in earnest, as if they can sense the danger they’re in. Will rushes at them with renewed vigour, screaming war chants and backing them into a corner, ready for rehabilitation.
Jem grabs the rest of the envelopes from my hand, flips through them and hands back two. They’re marked “MUNKERS, SUE” and “MUNKERS, GARTH”. ‘You just have to give it back to them,’ he calls over his shoulder as he rushes to help Will. ‘It’s how they’re being controlled. Give it back to them.’
Claire and I are moving before he finishes talking. Garth is over to our left, picking up a waste-paper bin. Without any expression on his small face, he hurls it at the two of us. I build a shield around it and toss it out of the way, just as Claire dives at Garth with an angry roar. She crashes into him and they go sliding across the floor before she pins him up against the wall. ‘James, quick!’ she yells.
I run up and tip his envelope over him. When nothing falls out I start to panic. I shake it a few times, then turn it over to peer inside.
‘JAMES!’ Claire shrieks as Garth grabs a handful of her hair and pulls her head down towards his open, snarling mouth.
And then I see it. It’s a piece of chewing gum, stuck to the paper in the corner of the envelope. It must have his saliva on it. I reach in, rip it out and shove it into Garth’s open mouth. He falls slack, his grip loosening on Claire’s hair.
‘Stay with him,’ I tell Claire, then stand up and look around for Mum.
There are two more bodies lying sprawled on the floor by now, but I can’t see Mum anywhere. Will, pinning the reception lady to the glass door of the main office, sees me looking and whistles. ‘She went out the front door,’ he calls. ‘It looked like she was headed for…’
He stops talking. He’s just looked through the glass into the main office, and what he’s seen in there makes his face crumple in horror.
Oh no.
‘Philippa!’
Will throws the reception lady back into the fray behind him as if she were made of tissue paper and charges into the office. I watch through the partition with growing fear as he stops, bends down, and lifts Pippa’s body off the ground.
There’s a knife sticking out of her back. Her jacket gleams with blood.
Mr Lancer rushes in and sweeps a desk clear of its mugs and files and papers, and helps Will lift Pippa gently onto it. I watch as they mutter and flutter about her. Everything outside that office is forgotten in their fear for the small girl bleeding to death in front of them.
They don’t realise that Kit’s also out for the count. That she fell into unconsciousness when her twin sister did.
That now nobody is watching the show.
I swing back around to Claire and Garth, who is sitting up and staring around stupidly. At least he has some kind of expression on his face now.
I shove the second envelope into Claire’s hand. ‘Find Mum and fix her,’ I tell her. ‘Garth, go to the back of the school and help Peter.’
‘No.’
‘He’s lighting fires.’
‘Cool!’
‘What are you going to do?’ Claire asks in a scared voice.
‘I’m going to stop the show.’ And I run out.
Chapter Nineteen: Showtime
I race back down the main corridor and turn right down a stairwell. When I open the door at the bottom I’m hit with the smell of chlorine. The school’s indoor swimming pool glistens in the dark in front of me. If I’m right, the door at the other end leads to the backstage area of the hall. It leads towards the Orb, in any case – I can feel the nausea starting to build. I reach out to touch the wall as I jog along beside the pool, my trainers squeaking on the wet tiles.
All of a sudden a figure looms out of the changing rooms in front of me. ‘You just keep walking into it,’ it intones hollowly.
Martin Hacker. Grayson must have mind-numbed him in his office the other day. That’s unfortunate.
You know what, though? I don’t have time to deal with him right now.
Without even breaking my stride I give him a little push with my mind and he falls sideways into the pool, splashing water over the bottom of my jeans and into my shoes. I levitate a life ring after him, just in case. ‘We’ll talk later,’ I call over my shoulder as I reach the door at the end of the room.
I come out into the wings of the stage. It’s dark and crowded here, with an assortment of kids in various costumes looking out on the activity of the brightly-lit stage, their faces illuminated by the glow. The strains of “Away in a Manger” float through the stillness. I look over their heads to the stage and see the traditional set-up of the Nativity play, complete with Mary, Joseph, and Baby Jesus with a mind-controlling device embedded in his innocent little head.
Oh man, is that making me queasy. I bend over, put my hands on my knees and breathe deeply like a woman in labour. The kids around me give me strange looks, but I can’t save the world if I’m puking my guts up, can I?
It’s okay, I’m not vomiting. I can do this. I just need to focus.
I start pushing my mind out to the doll on the stage, but then a cow moves between us, breaking my line of sight, as the kids all sing, ‘The cattle are lowing; the baby awakes…’
Hoping the baby is doing no such thing, I look around for something to stand on to get it into view again – I seem to be able to focus better when I’m looking at it. Then I spot a ladder leading up to the suspended walkways hanging high over the stage. Dodging a donkey, I run to the ladder, grab a rung and start climbing, trying not to think about how many little kids I’m going to crush if I fall.
‘You can’t go up there,’ a nearby twelfth-grader hisses at me. Oh, bog off. I’m trying to save your life.
I keep climbing and finally reach the walkway leading right over the stage, out of sight of the audience. I pull myself up onto it and grasp its flimsy railing, then take a few tentative steps forwards and peer down at the tea-towelled heads beneath me. My word, that’s a long way down. Oh, nausea combined with vertigo – nice. I suck in some oxygen to stop my head spinning, and peer about for the doll. “Mary” wriggles back on her stool and there he lies, waiting for his moment.
I push my mind out to him – it’s like swimming against the tide – and realise with a shock that his moment is nigh. Chaplain’s Orb is pulsing in anticipation, ready to send its rays out towards the audience.
Okay. No, this is good. I just have to stay calm. And, also, not faint from the waves of sickness I’m feeling.
‘And he truly was the son of God,’ a tiny angel with a big voice shouts at the audience from the front of the stage, as I carefully create a protection shield around the Orb. The misty, glowing light of the shield appears around the doll’s head, like the haloes you see on Christmas cards, and the audience gasps in delight. Mary and Joseph look at each other in confusion. The sheep back away a bit.
‘And he would do miraculous things during his life,’ the tiny angel screams on, oblivious to what’s happening
behind her. I start pulling the swaddling-wrapped babe towards me with my mind, and little Baby Jesus goes floating up into the air, shining down upon all around him. Mary and Joseph go running for cover, and one of the three kings falls off his camel.
‘Healing the sick and helping the poor,’ she roars, as I suddenly feel a resistance to my power. It hits me like a blow, making me feel even more ill, and the doll’s progress towards the heavens comes to a halt. Its halo has now turned dark, making the doll look like some creepy antichrist, like the toy of a punk-rocker.
Is that me doing that? Has my power gone dark again?
No, it hasn’t. I can still see my blue protection shield inside the black one. Someone’s gone and created a protection shield around my protection shield, and they’re pushing down while I’m pulling up. The doll quivers in mid-air, trapped in a vertical tug of war.
Suddenly shaking with effort, I glance up from the shining, twitching bundle to see Mr Grayson emerging from the darkness at the other end of the walkway. His arm is reaching out to the hovering Orb but he’s staring at me, his eyes shining with excited ambition. His smile is unpleasant, wide and confident.
‘I think,’ he says, ‘the first thing I’ll do when I have control over your mind is walk you straight off this platform. You really shouldn’t be up here, you know.’ He takes another step towards me, and I feel his power pushing the Orb down towards the audience. My hands grip the railing beside me as I struggle to keep the Orb aloft and out of his control.
He laughs softly. ‘What are you going to do, James? Stand there tugging away at it until the play finishes and everyone goes home to snuggle up in their nice, safe beds?’
‘It’s an option,’ I say through gritted teeth.
‘One I think you won’t be taking,’ he purrs at me, gesturing over his shoulder with his head. ‘Not when I hold something so important to you in my power.’
Behind him another walkway runs out at right angles to this one, high over the wings. Michael, blank-faced and empty-minded, is standing on it, holding the unconscious form of Kit over the edge.
My mind reels in panic and rage at the sight, and I feel myself start to lose control of my power. I’m still hanging on desperately to the Orb, but the spotlights clamped to the rail next to me start to fizz and the walkway under our feet wobbles unsteadily.
James Munkers Page 20