JackG@killerschool

by Pauline Gerber

starts crumbling and then falls to the ground. Wesley is freed.

  “Go tell Delinquency!” whispers Jack, but typical of bullies, the frightened Wesley simply runs for the gate and increases the distance between himself and the mixer at a remarkable pace.

  When Yersinia realises that Wesley is being freed, she runs after him, shouting furiously: “Spies! This place is infested with spies. Come back here, you little scumbag! I shall find out who this informant is, if it is the last thing I do!”

  Fortunately for Wesley, the heat from flames on her head become too much to bear and she collapses on the lawn before she can reach the gate of the rose garden.

  Only Jack hears the hoarse cries for help from that newly-formed concrete wall in the garden of roses.

  Starting a new business

  Yersinia has put up a new sign: Tattoo parlour. The recommendation underneath reads: All designs. Specialising in butterflies.

  A sulking Salmonella is the first to notice. Why didn’t she think of that? She has always wanted her own business, but could not think of anything she would really enjoy. And now this Yersinia creature has outdone her again.

  At first Salmonella is hesitant to ‘phone, but when Yersinia answers, it is obvious that she has forgotten all about the incident with the Lady Macbeth hair.

  “Plastic surgery is so expensive these days, not to mention airtime. I thought a supplementary income was just what I needed,” sings Yersinia into the ear of her friendly enemy. “A BUTTERFLY! At last I get the chance to show my real skill… yes…I know what you mean…he NEVER keeps a promise…Quotation? My dear, of course…I give discount for an old…en…er…friend.”

  Yersinia is smiling her Lady Macbeth smile when she ends the call.

  “Now let’s see…this old pest has dared to double-cross me…”

  Project Delinquency

  Now the Word of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, that ye may abound in hope...

  Jack is reading the words carefully. He has just tried the new password, the one he guessed after the disaster of the rose garden: hope.

  “We must get out of this place, and quickly too! I must find a way to get Delinquency out of there. I am not leaving without her. What joy or peace will I have? None, until it is done.”

  “These words are too difficult to understand. How will they get Delinquency out?” asks Amoran.

  “I don’t know, but we must keep trying... that ye may abound in hope...That was the word that got Wesley out.”

  “And what does Molluscum know about all this? How does he know about this word, hope?”

  In the mean time Yersinia paces her office once or twice before she summons Doubt and Fear.

  Amahl’s comments

  Did I mention to you that I am the member of a great pop band? We are called Angels’ Beat, after our very first song that we put on the Internet…wonder what you will thi…Is Jack still fiddling on that GPS, trying to get that girl out? He should get a move on to get himself out of this joint. That is why his father gave him the thing, not to bother about girls! Yersinia wants him dead, or at the very least, as a slave. And now that she knows that they have found out about the Word of hope – I think she is going to tighten the security. Aah, but look! They have reached the event where I was part of the choir. It was the most beautiful occasion of all times. Jack, take a careful look at History clip 2.

  History clip 2

  This time there is no garden, but Amoran and Jack are behind the glass again. The landscape is more barren. An ancient caravan of camels is approaching a small, dirty building. They stop in front of it. Three richly dressed men in turbans dismount; then take some containers from their camel bags and enter this rickety little building.

  Once inside, they kneel in the gloomy, pitch darkness. “The Word became a human being and, full of grace and truth, lived among us,” whispers the GPS. The first man presents his container.

  “Gold, for the King of kings.”

  “Incense, for the Priest of priests,” says the second man, whilst putting down his container in front of a sleeping child.

  The third man can hardly speak.

  “Myrrh,” he whispers. “For the Sacrifice of al sacrifices.”

  “… he gave his one and only… Word of Truth…” whispers the GPS.

  The men leave on their camels. Two persons are seen fleeing with the baby. A cohort of Roman soldiers approaches the unassuming little building. “All young males must be killed!” shouts the centurion, smashing the gifts that were left behind with his sword. It becomes a powdery substance that seems to encompass the whole world. “Kill the boys! Kill all boys under the age of two!”

  Suddenly he sees Jack and Amoran. He charges at them with a blood- curdling cry. The glass partition disintegrates into millions of splinters. Jack instinctively wields his sword at the charging horse and its rider. Both seem to dissolve in thin air.

  “The Word was in the world, …, yet the world did not recognize him,” says the GPS, but the two boys are too shaken to pay much attention.

  “Killing children! What madness is this?”

  “And we are not even under two!”

  “And not even part of that history!”

  “Everybody’s part of that history,” comments the GPS.

  The client arrives

  “Salmonella, dear, so glad you’re early. I have designed something special; just for you!” Yersinia is as jovial as a lioness preparing for the kill. The right shoulder, is that what you said?”

  “Yes, I’m so glad I do not have to wait for that Pestis any longer. The way he makes promises and then just ignores you…”

  “You’re telling me...”

  Soon the job is underway.

  “So what are you up to these days, my dear?” (Except for stabbing me in the back) Yersinia asks.

  “Oh not much,” replies Salmonella. “I have this quaint little vuvuzela outlet, which is a nice little time killer, but for the rest, I spend my time on my looks.”

  Yersinia’s hand jerks.

  “Oops, I shall have to change the design somewhat now. If I just keep quiet, she won’t notice,” she thinks.

  “My dear, so I have noticed. Er… that hairstyle the other evening…”

  “Oh that! Yes, it was nothing really. A little accident really…”

  “You’re having another one now, silly wench, and it’s not so little either…” Yersinia thinks privately.

  “I left one of my vuvuzelas with your servant, as a gift and small token of my appreciation, Yersinia dear.”

  But before Yersinia dear can answer, her cell phone alerts her to a newly-sent sms. She hastily downs her tools to read it.

  “A prerequisite for any invitation will be that water must turn to blood. This time, forward a formal, well-developed plan of action.”

  “Pestis…” she murmurs and then texts back. “Consider it done.”

  The job on Salmonella becomes an extremely hurried one. Yersinia‘s mind is not on her work at all.

  “There, it’s done,” she announces after a while. “Please go.”

  “So soon? Oh I cannot thank you enough! Let me see!” implores Salmonella. “How much do I owe you?”

  “No need to pay, you can go look in the mirror at home. Go now!”

  But Salmonella is not put off that easily. She turns the two swinging mirrors that Yersinia had installed in the parlour so that she can see her back. She looks once. She looks twice and then utters a shriek of dismay.

  “A FLY? This is not what I asked for! Where is my BUTTERfly?”

  “It is for FREE! Didn’t you hear me?” Yersinia becomes annoyed. She pushes a wailing Salmonella out of the door and promptly slams it in her face. Yersinia turns her back and starts pacing the parlour in deep thought, oblivious to the angry shouts that are coming from outside.

  “Now let’s see…” she muses. “Nobody wants to use the school’s swim
ming pool except Doubt and Fear…These kiddies call themselves the water team and they don’t like water? But the name can create a perception…And they can easily be pushed… accidents will happen…especially with Doubt and Fear around…it’s just one of those things.

  She goes over to her computer and starts composing an e-mail, addressed to ex-husband Pestis.

  An attack and a rescue attempt

  Bitzer, the knife thrower, has gained entry to the rose garden. He had been spying on Jack and that silly little friend of his, called Amoran. They were busy with some little electronic game when he left. Everybody has his little night-time secret, it seems.

  “You are the knife specialist. See if you can get her out with your knife,” is what the Extractor ordered. “She can then be MY slave. Female company is a good thing.” Somehow Wesley did not utter the usual string of obscenities that he sends into the air when he is talking about girls.

  When Bitzer comes to Delinquency, she starts cursing him. She has not accepted this terrible fate, or if she has, she has decided to do it with hatred against anybody who comes near her.

  Bitzer takes out one of his knives. He bends over her.

  “This may hurt quite a bit,” he laughs. “It may draw some blood, a big amount in fact, but at least then you will get your head out of this mess – I think.”

  Delinquency starts yelling.

  In the kitchen Jack is trying another password.

  Bitzer stabs the knife into the concrete, very near to Delinquency’s neck.

  “Oh, sorry, I hope I do not slit your throat by accident.”

  “I hate you! Get away from me, you runt of a rat litter!”

  Bitzer only laughs