Authors: Dean Vincent Carter
The key was lying at the bottom of the large green mug
on the caretaker's desk, exactly where Sean had expected
it to be. As he picked it up, he was aware of movement
outside the window. He turned to see the drenched
figure of Mrs Rees, stumbling and then falling, splashing
on the sodden ground. He watched, his mouth open,
as she ran on behind the annexe towards the main road
that led to the town.
Why is she running?
Sean wondered. He hurried
back to the hall and found the other two waiting
anxiously by the cupboard door with the inert body of
the headmaster.
'I just saw Mrs Rees,' he said, handing the key to
Waites. 'She was running away from the school.
I'm going to check on Dr Morrow, see if he knows
anything about it. I think something might be wrong.
She wouldn't just take off like that.'
'All right,' Waites said. 'But hurry back. James and I
will get Titus into the cupboard.'
It didn't take Sean long to return to the toilets and
find out from Morrow that Mrs Rees believed she was
infected.
'You have to find her,' Morrow implored. 'She mustn't
spread the infection.'
'OK, I'll try.' Sean headed back to the main hall,
wondering how he had been given so much responsibility.
After all, was he really capable of doing anything to
stop it?
He thought about Mrs Rees and the effect the disease
would have on her and her family. If she was indeed
infected and died in the middle of town, amidst thousands
of other people, they would be facing a far greater
disaster than the one they were currently trying to deal
with. The authorities would then determine the source of
the problem and descend on the school before he, James
and Waites were able to deal with the parasite. Right
now they were the only ones with any understanding of
it. The government would have to quarantine the place.
The creature had to be destroyed before it got away.
'We have to stop her,' Sean said simply when he'd
explained the situation to the others.
'All right,' Waites said. 'You and James go after her
and bring her back here – by force if necessary. I'll stay
and watch Titus.'
'Maybe you should go and see Morrow before
he . . . you know,' Sean suggested. 'Just in case he's
remembered something that could help us kill this creature
– he said he would try to think back in case there
was something . . .'
'Maybe I will. But I don't think I should leave that
thing unguarded for long.'
'Yes, do be careful, Mr Waites,' James said. 'If that
thing manages to get out . . .'
'All right. You two, just go. Go and find Emily before
it's too late.'
Sean led his brother out of the hall, pushing the
entrance doors open and grimacing at the ferocity of
the rain. He pulled the zip on his coat up as far as it
would go and tugged the already wet hood over his head.
But suddenly he realized James was no longer behind
him; he was standing by the stairs, deep in thought.
Sean shook his head and opened the door again.
'Come on, James, we have to find her!'
His brother looked up, confused at first, then
nodded and followed him. 'Sorry, I just remembered
something . . .'
'What?'
'Oh, nothing . . . Let's go.'
They ran across the car park towards the main road.
They had considered taking James's car, but the roads
could now be so flooded that it would only be a hindrance.
It was even darker now; the sky was covered
in thick, heavy clouds. They crossed to the narrow
pavement and ran down the winding hill towards the
town, hoping Mrs Rees hadn't found somewhere to hide.
Waites was pacing up and down outside the cupboard,
biting his nails and wondering what he would do once
the thing woke up and started trying to get out. He
had no idea whether the cupboard would hold it – or
whether he could overpower the possessed headmaster if
he got free. There was no sound from within, so there
was no need to panic just yet, but the time would
inevitably come. And he couldn't help wondering how
long Morrow had left. Had the man remembered
something useful – something that could be used to kill
this creature and reverse the effects of the infection? If
the man had information, it might be valuable. Perhaps
he should risk leaving the headmaster unattended for
a short while and go and talk to Morrow before it was
too late. He paced a while longer, his eyes on the locked
door, then made up his mind: he ran across the hall,
then out into the corridor.
Morrow had coughed up so much blood he couldn't
believe there was any left. Surely he didn't have much
time now. The pain within had been replaced by a
numbness that made him feel shrunken and deflated.
His head felt like a huge hand was squeezing it, and his
teeth were loose, and moved every time his dry tongue
passed over them. He didn't feel human any more; he felt
like a different creature altogether. With his remaining
energy, he prayed that Waites or the boys would come
back so he could pass on the piece of information he
had just remembered – otherwise they'd have no chance
of beating the thing.
He waited, his laboured breathing the only thing
disturbing the silence. His head was hurting so much
now that even thinking was painful.
Please
, he willed.
Please come
. But it sounded as if everyone had gone – he
had been abandoned.
Such a big tomb
, he thought wryly.
Then, without warning, there was a huge explosion
in his chest, and all at once the veins in his arms felt
like they had been pulled tight, constricted.
Oh hell
, he
thought.
Here it comes
. And unlike Emily Rees, what was
on his mind as death came sweeping towards him was
not his family, but the overwhelming need to deliver his
message.
By the time Waites reached the boys' toilets, Morrow
was dead. He'd actually begun speaking to him and
only stopped when he saw the glazed look in the man's
staring, lifeless eyes. His shoulders sagged. He was too
late. But as he approached the blood-soaked corpse he
saw what Morrow had done with his last few seconds of
life. A message was written in the man's own blood on
the tiled floor nearby.
Sall . . .
Morrow's finger lay curled near the last letter, its job
apparently done. But the message couldn't be complete.
Sall . . .
What did it mean? Perhaps Morrow had been
trying to write
Sally
. If so, who was she, and what was
her involvement in all this? Waites knelt and looked
again into the dead man's eyes.
'What were you trying to say?'
He remained there a moment longer, then remembered
his captive in the hall. He was tempting fate by
staying away any longer than he needed to. If that thing
got out and headed towards town, it would be all over.
He left the toilets, jogging back towards the hall and
hoping the headmaster was still unconscious.
Emily Rees reached a very important decision as she
staggered down towards the high street in the rain. She
could go home, collapse into her family's arms, tell them
she loved them, then die in front of them in a horrific
manner, or she could get as far away as she could and
die somewhere no one would find her. Her family
would still be traumatized, but at least they would never
see her final, appalling moments; they would not be left
with that awful memory.
She reached the bottom of the hill and saw cars
everywhere, some parked on the pavement, others backed
up all the way along the high street. Their owners had
obviously abandoned them and sought refuge elsewhere.
About halfway down there appeared to have been a
collision, but there were no emergency vehicles present:
no doubt they were more urgently needed elsewhere.
The torrent surged through the jam of vehicles and
Emily didn't like the idea of climbing over them, only
to slip and injure herself. Looking to her right, she saw
a path that led away from the town. It meant crossing
a stream that would inevitably be flooded, but it might
still be safer. She turned and jogged along it, sending up
cascades of muddy water with every step.
As she ran she fantasized about heading home
instead, seeing the lights on, someone moving about
inside. If she got close enough to the house she might
be able to hear the television, maybe even her kids . . .
She shook her head. No, she mustn't allow herself to
succumb to the temptation. She shrugged the thoughts
away and continued along the path that led to the
swollen brook. When she reached it her heart sank.
It was almost twice its normal size and the stepping
stones that normally allowed access from one bank to
the other were now completely submerged. She stared
at the raging water and shook her head. This was as far
as she could go.
Behind her, somewhere in the town, she heard a loud
splash – she didn't know it, but it was the sound of the
small public toilet block collapsing into the river. She
gazed deep into the swirling torrent. She wasn't ready
to die. Not yet. She backed away from the water and
found a spot by a tree where she could sit and watch the
patterns in the dark, angry brook.
She remained there, for an eternity it seemed, waiting
for the pain to start, then for the end to come . . .
* * *
Waites was relieved to find the door to the cupboard
still closed. He pressed an ear to one of the doors. He
could hear nothing to begin with, but just as he was
about to move away . . . a hoarse, tired voice:
'Is that you, Daniel?'
Waites froze. It was certainly Titus, although he
sounded strained and in pain. Knowing that something
foreign could be inside the headmaster, controlling him,
Waites found the words chilling. He didn't answer, but
kept his ear to the door, curious to hear what the thing
said next. The four words were repeated, then there was
a cough followed by movement. Whether this was the
creature trying to make itself more comfortable or to
find a possible means of escape, he couldn't be sure, but
it seemed to be having difficulty. He sat down and kept
his ear to the crack in the door, wondering what the
creature was prepared to say or do to secure its freedom.
He heard grunting and panting, and what sounded like
another exclamation of pain.
'Whoever is out there' – the voice returned, clearer
now than before, and more authoritative – 'would
you kindly tell me what on earth is going on? What
am I doing in here?' Waites remained silent. 'Hello?'
The voice was angrier, more impatient now – Titus
was in his element, Waites thought. There was a
pause, then the headmaster started banging on the door
in frustration.
'I'm not unlocking the door,' Waites said firmly.
The banging stopped. 'What?'
'I said I'm not unlocking this door.'
'Do you mind telling me why, Daniel?'
'You know why.'
'I'm afraid I don't.'
'Yes, you do,' Waites replied, shaking his head. 'This
is crazy,' he muttered to himself. He hadn't been trained
to deal with alien parasites, or whatever this thing
was. Unruly pupils were bad enough, but this thing was
a killer.
'Look,' the headmaster began, 'if this is something
to do with Emily . . . I'm not sure what happened. She
attacked me. I tried to throw her off and then . . . I don't
know what happened. I must have hit my head.'
'What do you want?' Waites asked, ignoring the
explanation.
'What do you mean?'
'What was worth killing them for?'
'Killing who? Are you daft?'
'This is pointless.' It was. It was useless trying to get
anything out of this thing. It clearly wasn't stupid: like
any prisoner it would deny everything until it had an
opportunity to get away.
'My head really hurts, Daniel. I think it's bleeding.'
Waites didn't respond. This new tack was to be expected.
It was trying to get sympathy now, appealing
to his sense of humanity, his compassion. It would no
doubt exaggerate its pain and misery until it got the
result it wanted. Except that moment would not come.
Waites wasn't going to give in and allow the creature to
kill again.
'Did you hear what I said, Daniel?' The voice was
almost pathetic, most unlike the headmaster's normal
manner. It was just the two of them in the school now.
With the rain refusing to let up and the emergency
services no doubt already stretched to the limit, it
was likely to stay 'just the two of them' for quite
some time.
Oh God
, Waites thought. This
is going to be a
long night
.
'She could be anywhere,' James said, spitting out
rainwater.
'I know, but . . .' Already Sean could see the futility of
trying to track down the teacher. Who knew where she
had gone? He heard people shouting and turned to see
three men wading through the water, which had now
completely swamped the road where the first few shops
began. They seemed to be enjoying themselves. Sean
turned back to James to see a look of deep concentration
on his face.
'What is it?'
'Oh, I was just thinking . . . Maybe we should go back
to the study centre.'
'What? The road there was bad enough earlier on;
it'll be worse now.'
'I know, but if there's a way of stopping that thing,
the answer might be there.'
'But it's locked up in that cupboard now. As long as
it stays there until we can get help, we should be all
right.'
'Yeah, but help is a long way off. Look at all the water.
It'll take ages to sort things out. The town flooded
before, remember? It took a while to recover from that,
and this is worse.'
'Well, maybe we should just go back up to the school
then. Make sure Mr Waites is OK before we do anything
else.'
'Yeah, all right.'
'Better phone Mum and Dad again too,' Sean said.
'They'll be worried.'
'What was the black thing?' Titus asked after another
long pause.
'What black thing?' Waites responded noncommittally.
'The thing that came out of the tap. I . . . I saw it.
Like a big slug or something.'
'That'll be you,' Waites told him.
'Me?'
'The "big slug". That's you.'
'Have . . . have you lost your mind?'
'You got into Titus's head and now you're controlling
him.'
'That's ridiculous, Dan.'
'Is it? You did the same thing to Nigel and that doctor
– who is now dead too, incidentally. You certainly made
a mess of him.'
'That thing is not inside me! The last I saw of it, it
was crawling into James's mouth.'
Waites didn't reply. This could so easily be an attempt
to confuse him or plant doubt in his mind. If he were
the creature, wouldn't he do the same thing? And yet
the possibility couldn't be completely discounted. He
and Sean had reached the headmaster's office after
the switch had occurred. Emily had said it was 'in him'
– which could have meant either Titus or James. Waites
felt more and more unnerved as he began to realize the
implications of his discovery.
'What is it, Daniel? What is that thing?' Titus asked,
sounding tired, confused and frightened. 'It looked
hideous and . . . it seemed to have a mind of its own.'
Waites said nothing; he was trying to think.
'Look, Dan, whatever's been going on here, I swear
to you, that thing is not inside me.'
'I'm not listening,' Waites insisted.
But he was. Of course he was.