by Phil Cocker
security desks and noticed on the monitors that your bed was empty, so decided to quickly dash down and make sure you were OK.” He half-smiled. “I’d hate for Eklan to find that you’d died at your workstation, just when your greatest triumph was being realised.”
Harrap liked the rouse. “Ah, that’s very kind of you Fink, but as you can see.” And he waved his arms around as if he was a magician presenting his next trick. “I am fine, except for the aches and pains of falling asleep at my desk.”
“Good, good.” Fink smiled weakly. “I’ll leave and be off to bed myself, as it is very late, as you said.“ He pointed to the clock, hoping his tale had been believed, yet his insides knotted up at the thought of not being able to administer the drugs to Harrap. “Good evening.” he headed for the door, wondering what the consequences of the failure would be, not only to him, but to Harrap.
“Don’t you mean good morning?” Harrap said, yawning again for effect, whilst carefully watching the diminutive spy leave without replying to his quip.
Exit Stage Left.
School had ended nearly an hour earlier, and most of the teachers would have left. Eric’s hope had lain with either a caretaker or cleaner needing their store cage, or his mother raising the alarm. He knew that his mother wouldn’t be concerned until later, as she would assume Eric was round at Tom’s house. He was preparing his mind to the fact that he might be in there all night, using what light there was leaking in, and that his eyes had adjusted quite well to the eerie gloom to search for a place to bed down.
The lights in the storeroom flashed on and off, on and off, blinding Eric whose eyes had adjusted quite well to the near darkness over the time he’d been trapped in there. He used his arm in a feeble attempt to shield his eyes from the glare of the three bare and bright bulbs that hung on short leads in a line across the width of the store. There was a sudden boom, making Eric tense, his instincts sending adrenalin through his body to raise his senses. A barrage of booms rattled around the room, as if a heavy thunder cloud was sat on the stage above him. Eric’s senses were being overwhelmed by the flashing lights and loud booms, and he struggled to wonder what was happening. He shut his eyes from the glare and used his hands to cover his ears, hoping something would give.
The booms continued, and seemed to be getting louder, the lights kept flashing repeatedly, on and off, on and off. Even through closed eyes, he could see the light flaring up, then dying, leaving an impression of a red halo on the inside of his tightly closed eyelids. After many hours of relative quiet and peace, this attack to his senses was too much. The booming continued to batter his ears, and he clamped his hands ever tighter to his head. He curled himself up in a ball as he tried as hard as he could to shield his eyes and ears more, but this also didn’t help.
The booming and flashing continued for a few minutes, and then stopped. The lights were left on and Eric slowly opened his eyes to squint into the room. His ears were still ringing from all of noise, but his heart leapt a bit as he could see the door was open at the far side of the store. As the lights were still affecting his vision, he raised his arm just above his eyes to create a shadow stood up, took a breath before running head long for his escape. His vision was still very blurred and as he got to the entrance to the store he didn’t see the figure step out from behind the door, right in his path.
Eric ran straight into them, blinking furiously as he tried to get a clearer view of who it was. “Heh!” he called out. “Thanks I’ve been….” He stopped mid-sentence as a fist was buried into his side, just below his ribcage, knocking the breath out of him.
Two arms clamped firmly around him from behind.
Eric struggled against the strong grip, his eyes still struggling to see after the lights and then the heavy punch.
Another blow struck firmly in the stomach, stopping his frantic thrashing in an instant. Eric clamped his eyes shut, clearing away the water that had flowed into them after the punches. He opened them and he was grateful that they’d adjusted enough to see two dark figures ahead of him. He was still having problems as the stage lights were all pointing towards him, so he couldn’t make out any faces, but his heart froze as he realised that they were both wearing hoods. “Get off” he screamed, fighting the firm hold around him. “Get off me now.” And he struggled to free himself as hard as he could as the hooded figures approached.
After a few moments twisting and pulling, Eric realised that he was well and truly trapped, so eased off his fighting. Yet that wasn’t the main reason for easing his struggles. He’d been watching the two figures ahead of him carefully. They slowly came towards him, and horror struck him as the larger one raised his left arm above shoulder height and held up something that was in his hand. Eric could see the syringe in his hand, and memories of his father’s demise flooded his mind as the stage lights shone through the blue liquid in the main tube.
“Noooooooo!” He yelled, anger taking over the fear. “You murdering pigs, get off me NOW!” With an almighty wrench he freed his right arm. Bending it at the elbow, Eric quickly swung it back and up to hit whoever had been holding him. His elbow impacted someone’s head and he heard a crunch as something cracked. Eric hadn’t felt too much pain, so he presumed he’d injured his attacker. This was confirmed a split second later as the grip on him released completely.
“Ow, my thooth” A muffled cry was heard.
Eric seized his chance. He spun around, his right fist leading the way and caught the unsuspecting captor in his midriff, knocking the wind out of him instantly. Eric smiled as he saw him buckle and drop to the floor.
Unfortunately, before he could turn his attentions on the other two, a hefty blow found the back of his head. Eric staggered to his left, and another fist hit him in the stomach. His eyes watered with the pain, blurred his vision once more and he struggled to see where the next blow was coming from. The stage lights were helping his two attackers, blinding Eric. All he could do was glimpse shapes moving ahead of him in between burst of bright light. He used one arm to wipe his eyes and he flailed the other at the shapes, trying to grab the nearest person. Another blow hit the muscle in his upper thigh, the excruciating pain shooting up into his brain, disorienting him even more, and making him drop to one knee.
He recovered quickly, getting up onto his feet and staggering backwards away from his attackers. He sensed another blow coming at his right hand side and swished his hips left, away from the attack. A whoosh of air brushed past his side, but he tripped over a footstool on the stage floor and crashed to the ground. He couldn’t get up quick enough and curled himself into a ball as kicks booted into him from all sides.
“HEH! - STOP THAT RIGHT NOW!” Mr.Higson’s voice carried across the hall.
Eric dared to glance towards the voice and was even more pleased as he saw Tom at Mr.Higson’s side standing in the main doorway.
There was a scuffle of feet as the three attackers darted off the stage, all heading for the main doorway. The first two realised they’d never get past Mr.Higson, turned sharp right and ran to the fire exit that was set into the centre of the windowed wall on the left hand side of the hall. Tom guessed their intentions and sprinted across the hall to head them off. The first one was too fast smacking the push bar down and bursting out into the cool early evening air.
Tom shoved his head down, shoulder charging the second one, who was quite a bit bigger than him, but he didn’t care. He impacted at an acute angle, causing little change of direction for the bigger thug, who dived through the door. Tom bounced off, and was sent flying across the floor, the rubber on his shoes squeaking as they tried to grip. “Damn!” he said as he quickly got back up.
The third hoody was still heading for the main door, which was blocked by the determined Mr.Higson. As the teacher lunged, the last thug leapt out of the way, and changed direction to run between last two rows of chairs. Mr.Higson crashed across the chairs, falling to the ground amidst the n
ow mangled plastic and metal seats. The thug saw Mr.Higson’s predicament, leapt over the back row of chairs to head back to the main door into the Hall.
He got to within 5 metres of the doorway when it was filled by the very substantial figure of Mr. Porter, the very expansive Headmaster. Thug number three changed direction for the final time and decided to take the fire exit route. He spun round and headed for the other door, only for his hood to be grabbed by Tom. “Trev Miller!” Tom shouted in shock as he unmasked the last of Eric’s attackers. Trevor threw a fist at the surprised Tom, making contact with the top of his head. He released his grip on him and Trevor dashed through the swinging door, pulling his hood back over his head.
“What the…!” Mr. Porter, The headmaster said as he saw Mr.Higson struggling to his feet, untangling himself from the now smashed chairs.
“Sorry Tony.” Mr.Higson sounded disappointed. “I should have had him easily.”
“It was Trevor Miller, sir.” Tom shouted from the stage where he’d gone to help Eric. He turned to his friend. “You OK mate?” as he looked at all the bruises and dribbles of blood running down Eric’s face.
“Daft question really.” Eric