‘Cake!’ said House, unconsciously licking his lips.
‘Will you stop that!’ whispered Cherry fiercely. ‘We’re here on serious business!’
‘I know,’ House whispered back. ‘Cake is a very serious business indeed.’
Cherry was just about to say something extremely rude when the old lady reappeared.
‘Here you go, my dears,’ she said, setting down a large tray containing the world’s biggest teapot, three chipped mugs and a five‐tier stand groaning under the weight of every sort of cake that even House could possibly have imagined. The display defied all the laws of gravity and healthy eating at the same time – it was like staring into a black hole made entirely of sugar and cream.
The old lady sat down. ‘I’m afraid I’ve forgotten your names,’ she said with a smile.
‘House and Cherry,’ smiled Cherry. ‘We go to Green Hill School.’
‘Oh yes, that was it! And I’m Vera Kowalski. Cake?’
House didn’t need to be asked twice. Five seconds later, he was tucking into a large piece of chocolate gateau, with three doughnuts, some fruit loaf, a slice of Victoria sponge and a thick piece of tiffin stacked on his plate in reserve.
‘Nice?’ asked Vera.
‘Mmmph!’ replied House. ‘Luffly! Deliffous!’ Cherry stared at him and whispered, ‘Remember, we’re here for more than just the cake, OK?’
‘Oh absolutely,’ said House, swallowing. ‘Could you pass me one of those scones?’
Shaking her head, Cherry reached out, took a single doughnut and sat back in her chair. ‘Thank you for seeing us,’ she said to Vera. ‘We were told at school that Mr Kowalski was very good at telling old stories about Green Hill, but no one mentioned all the lovely treats!’
Vera smiled. ‘Oh yes, my husband can spin a few yarns, though he does tend to go on a bit.’
‘Could we possibly talk to him?’
‘I’m afraid not,’ said Vera. ‘He’s at the hospital. He went in two weeks ago. His knees and elbows were playing up. But then he will insist on doing all that silly keep‐fit stuff!
Even through House’s overflowing mouthful of cake, Cherry could see his mind was also racing. Mr Kowalski wasn’t at home. Something must have happened to him. And whatever that something was, it must have happened at the hospital.
With a sinking feeling, Cherry wondered how long it would be before Inchy’s investigations uncovered more than he bargained for. She and House had to get to the hospital double quick. But first they would have to go back to Eccles Road.
Cherry wasn’t about to set foot in that hospital again without her bow.
‘This is pointless,’ said Spit. ‘There’s nothing here.’
‘Come on,’ replied Alex. ‘The archivist told us that Adonis arrived some time last year. We’ve only got one more month to check.’
Spit huffed. The pair had spent at least an hour flicking through the pages of old newspapers, looking for a trace of information about Adonis. So far, they’d found nothing, although Alex had become strangely absorbed by weird and wonderful news stories. The one about a man arrested during a robbery who claimed to be his own long‐lost twin brother made him chuckle. As did the story about the cow that thought it was a duck – right up until it tried to jump into a pond and discovered it couldn’t swim. Just as he found himself being sucked into an item about a woman who’d invented a new way to grow rhubarb, Spit’s voice cut in.
‘Oh my word! I’ve got something!’
Alex turned to look. ‘What is it?’
‘See for yourself.’
Alex took the paper. Staring up from the front page was a huge picture of Adonis in a radio studio. He was all gleaming smile and puppy‐dog eyes.
‘It’s from when he joined the hospital as resident DJ,’ added Spit. ‘His first interview.’
Alex read the story. To his annoyance it said very little. Adonis just waffled on for ages about how blessed he felt to be given an opportunity to use his talents to help heal people who were really in need.
‘Do you think he ever says anything that isn’t really, really cheesy?’ muttered Alex.
Spit shook his head.
‘So what got you so excited?’ Alex asked, confused.
‘Look at the picture,’ said Spit tensely.
Alex did exactly that. He looked really, really close. Close enough to see the spot on Adonis’s nose and the half‐eaten sandwich on a plate near a microphone. But that was all he could see. Alex turned back to Spit with a shrug.
‘I don’t see it.’
‘The shelf behind Adonis,’ said Spit. ‘Just above his left ear.’
Alex squinted again. For a moment, all he could see was a smudgy blur. Then the shape resolved itself into a large black book, and a dagger of ice cut into Alex’s heart.
‘It can’t be.’
‘It is.’
‘But it can’t be. We buried it, remember? We buried it!’
‘Well,’ said Spit, ‘I’m guessing that the one we’ve got isn’t the only copy.’
‘It’s… It’s –’
‘It’s the Necronomicon,’ finished Spit. ‘The Book of the Dead. The manual for evil‐doers everywhere. It’s there, on Adonis’s shelf, at the hospital.’
‘With Inchy.’
‘Exactly,’ replied Spit. ‘With Inchy.’
For a long moment, Inchy stared at his dirty fingernails. How had they got dirty? He’d only just woken up! It didn’t make any sense at all. Fingernails didn’t just get dirty overnight.
‘Right,’ muttered Inchy. ‘I want answers. And the only person who’s likely to have them is Aubrey Adonis. And the best place to find him will be the radio studio.’
With that, Inchy set off, his crutches tap‐tapping on the hard corridor tiles. Catching a lift up to the third floor, he had no trouble in locating the studio. Arrows pointed the way, each one decorated with life‐size pictures of Adonis. On one wall, someone had painted a huge mural showing the DJ rising over a green hill like a dark sun, one hand cupped against the side of his head. Above the picture, a huge sign read, If you need an ear, Adonis is here!
Finally, Inchy rounded a corner and found himself outside a big door. It reminded him uncomfortably of the door to Gabriel’s office back at Cloud Nine Academy. Only this door was painted entirely black. It looked like someone had carved a hole into outer space.
Allowing curiosity to take over, Inchy moved closer. He raised his hand, preparing to knock, then stopped. He could hear a voice. It was ever so faint, and muffled by the heavy door, but it was somehow familiar. Adonis?
It certainly sounded a bit like Adonis, but something was different. When he’d visited Inchy in the ward, Adonis’s voice had been a cheesy mixture of sincerity and care, laced with a dash of helplessness, like a bad talkshow host. But the voice he could now hear was something else entirely. It was cold and harsh, like ice falling on to a metal floor. Inchy pressed his ear up against the door.
‘I give you my word, master,’ said Adonis, his new voice sending waves of fear through Inchy. ‘One more day and you will have all the soldiers that you need.’
With a gasp, Inchy jumped away from the door as if it was red hot. Whatever Adonis was up to, it obviously wasn’t about taking away people’s pain. And suddenly, knocking on the door didn’t seem like such a good idea any more.
Backing off, Inchy turned to go, only to find his way blocked.
‘Well, Inchy, my dear, what are we doing out of bed?’
Inchy recognized the nurse as one from his own ward. Her bright shiny teeth grinned down at him like a great white shark’s.
‘Er, um… I was just coming to see Mr Adonis,’ he lied. ‘But he’s not in.’
The nurse leaned towards him, flickering her eyelashes, and for a horrible moment Inchy thought that she was going to knock on the door and check. Instead, she placed her hand on his forehead.
‘How are you feeling?’
‘I’m fine,’ said Inchy nervously, ‘just fine.’
The nurse leaned in even closer. Inchy could smell her breath. It was sweet, sickly sweet, like honey. He suddenly remembered what Mr Kowalski had said about the nurses being involved with the mystery of the hospital, and how they suspected him. Did this one suspect Inchy? Was he about to disappear, just like Mr Kowalski?
‘Well,’ she said, ‘even so, you shouldn’t leave the ward without permission. You might get into all kinds of trouble! Back to bed for you.’
Inchy breathed a sigh of relief as the nurse took a gentle hold of him and led him away from the studio. But that relief disappeared as they re‐entered the ward and the nurse’s grip on his arm grew suddenly tighter.
‘Now, into bed we go.’
Lifting Inchy off his feet, the nurse whipped back the covers and deposited him into the bed.
‘Now, you stay here,’ she continued, tucking the sheets so tight around him that his arms were pinned to his sides. ‘You just have to let us care for you. That’s all we ask. All Adonis asks. It’s not much, you know! And it’s for your own good. There now!’
The nurse sighed as she stood back to admire her handiwork. Inchy was practically strapped to the bed. He could only watch as she leaned over to place a set of headphones on his ears. She did it gently, as if she was afraid she was doing something that might hurt him. Then she kissed him on the forehead.
‘It’s time for Brain Dead now, Inchy, so why don’t you just lie back, close your eyes and let Adonis guide you along the road to recovery?’
As the nurse turned and glided away, Inchy could feel his heart thrashing in his chest like a caged bird. Brain Dead was about to start! The thought filled him with dread. Inchy just knew that if he listened to the programme again, he would forget everything he had discovered.
The nurse was back at her desk now, her own headphones in place, just like all the other patients in the ward. Desperately, Inchy wriggled his body, trying to slip free from the snakelike hug of the sheets.
It worked! One arm came slightly loose. Fumbling about, Inchy’s scrabbling fingers found the headphones’ lead, grasped it firmly and –
‘Welcome to Brain Dead!’
Adonis’s voice filled Inchy’s head, swelling like an orchestra. His fingers relaxed and he felt his head fall back on to his soft, soft pillow as soothing music caressed his ears. It was so relaxing, so calming. It would be easy just to let go. Inchy felt the pain in his leg begin to slip away…
No! The team were counting on him. He couldn’t let them down.
Summoning up his last reserves of concentration, Inchy seized the lead and pulled the headphones from their socket.
Silence.
Panting, Inchy opened his eyes. The nurse didn’t seem to have noticed anything. She was still sitting at her desk, earphones on, eyes glazed. The other patients looked the same – blissfully happy and utterly unaware of the world around them.
Shaking his head, Inchy untangled the rest of his body from the bedsheets. It was time to find out what was going on. And now that everyone was in Brain Dead mode, there shouldn’t be anyone moving around the hospital to stop him.
Hopping out of bed on to his crutches, Inchy edged to the door. He was just about to slip out when something made him stop. It was a prickling sensation on the back of his neck.
Fear.
It was still quite a new emotion for Inchy. Back at Cloud Nine, the only thing that went bump in the night was House falling down the stairs as he tried to sneak into the kitchen for a midnight feast. But Inchy was scared now as he looked back at the ward.
For a moment, there was utter stillness. The patients sat unmoving, their eyes glassed over.
Then, in perfect unison, everyone in the room turned their heads towards him.
11
Brain Dead
Inchy stared in horror. The patients’ eyes were glazed and distant. Their faces were impassive masks, their mouths open, tongues hanging out, drool spilling to the floor in slow gloopy drips.
As he watched, they removed their headphones and started to get out of bed, their movements jerky and uncoordinated. Whatever Brain Dead was, and whatever Adonis was doing with it, listening to the programme had changed them in a big way.
But now wasn’t the time to find out precisely how.
Now was the time to run.
Spinning around on his crutches, Inchy barged through the swing‐doors and limped down the corridor as fast as he could. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that the patients were following. Questions flooded his brain. Why were they after him? Was this what happened to Mr Kowalski? But there was no time to think. He was only seconds ahead of the zombie‐like crowd, which seemed to be moving faster now. Painfully, Inchy redoubled his own speed.
But the hospital corridors were like a maze. There was no way out and no help. As Inchy passed the entrance to another ward, a second crowd of patients burst forth, led by a pair of wide‐eyed nurses. Inchy raced past, his crutches a blur, but more and more of them seemed to be hot on his heels.
Inchy’s breath was coming in rasping gasps now. The extra weight of his plaster cast was taking its toll. He was getting tired, but his pursuers showed no signs of slowing. Gripping his crutches tighter, Inchy desperately tried to put on a fresh burst of speed as he panted round a corner.
Into a dead end.
Inchy’s heart sank. Behind him he could hear the thumping footsteps of the approaching patients, but ahead of him there was no way out.
Or was there? A gleam of daylight seemed to beckon from the far end of the corridor.
Limping forward, Inchy spotted the source of the light – two emergency fi re doors with glass windows. He was going to make it! Summoning the last of his strength, Inchy dragged himself over to the doors and reached for the handle.
It was too high.
Inchy felt like crying. Where was House when you really needed his big, lumbering, clumsy frame? Inchy would have forgiven him two broken legs if he had been there at that moment. Behind him the noise of the stumbling patients grew ever closer.
With a sigh, Inchy tipped back his head for one last glimpse of daylight. The tiny windows that had briefly offered him a hope of escape now seemed to taunt him with a vision of the outside world just beyond his reach. He could see everything – the bright blue sky, the little white fluffy clouds… and House’s grinning face peering in at him.
Inchy couldn’t believe his eyes. He’d never been so glad to see anybody.
‘House!’ he shouted. ‘House! Help!’
House’s mouth moved in reply, but Inchy couldn’t hear a word. The flash of relief he had felt when he saw his friend was swamped by a fresh wave of panic. If House couldn’t hear him, how could Inchy tell him how much danger he was in?
He didn’t need to – House could see the terror in his face and the zoned‐out patients close behind him. The big angel disappeared from view for a moment. Then, without any further warning, the doors exploded inwards.
One flew off its hinges completely, spinning down the corridor towards the approaching patients, slowing their approach. The other crashed to the floor, narrowly missing Inchy. Amidst the debris sprawled House. Leaping to his feet, he hoisted Inchy into the air and leapt back through the doorway and towards a nearby bush. The next thing Inchy knew, he was surrounded by leaves, twigs and the rest of the gang.
He started to ask how on Earth they had found him, when Alex clapped a hand over Inchy’s mouth. Alex’s face was tight and he put a finger to his own lips.
Behind him, Cherry had an arrow strung in her bow. For a few seconds, the only sound in their ears was the thumpity‐thump of their own hearts beating hard and fast.
Then, suddenly, a groaning, shuffling sound began to be heard, growing louder by the second. Cautiously, the gang peered through the leaves towards the demolished fire doors. As they watched, the shambling mass of patients and nurses started to emerge. On they came, down the path, towards the gang’s hiding place.
House drew a deep breath
and clenched his fists. Cherry tautened her bowstring. Even Spit looked ready for a scrap.
And the patients walked straight past.
Inchy looked at Alex, confusion clear in his eyes. Alex shrugged and shrank back further into the cover of the bush. More and more patients shuffled past, their slippered feet passing just centimetres from the gang’s hiding place. Finally, as the last figure disappeared from view, everyone let out a long breath of relief.
‘But they must’ve seen us,’ hissed Inchy in disbelief. ‘I mean, how could they not have noticed House pick me up and throw me in a bush? It’s impossible!’
‘You’d think it was impossible to demolish a set of fire doors completely, but it seems House proved us wrong,’ said Spit.
‘It really was pretty impressive,’ agreed Alex, looking over to House with a glint in his eye. ‘But I bet they didn’t teach you that at the Academy.’
‘No, I kind of made it up myself,’ grinned House proudly.
‘Well, it was totally brilliant,’ said Cherry. House shrugged. ‘I guess,’ he said. ‘It was a split‐second decision – instinct more than anything. You’d have done the same.’
‘Yeah, but I’d have bounced off the doors,’ laughed Cherry. ‘Just as well you ate all Mrs Kowalski’s cakes, really!’
Inchy poked his head out of the bush and looked down the path in the direction the patients had taken. ‘Where do you think they’re heading?’
‘Can’t say that I care,’ said Spit.
‘We’ve got to find out!’ declared Inchy, hauling himself on to his crutches and out of the bush. ‘They’ve got to be going somewhere. Adonis must have something planned for them.’
‘What’s Adonis got to do with this?’ asked Cherry.
‘He’s behind it,’ Inchy explained. ‘He’s got the patients and nurses under some form of hypnosis. When they listen to Brain Dead it somehow takes control of them. I don’t know how it works, but I saw it happen. Brain Dead turned normal patients into those strange things we just saw.’
‘Whoa!’ whistled House.
‘Quite,’ replied Spit. ‘And whatever our friend Adonis is up to, there’s more than a whiff of demonic activity to it.’
Zombies in the House Page 7