Young Bond: The Dead - Young Bond: The Dead Part 3
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Young Bond: The Dead Part 3

Ed turned in the direction Jack was looking. For a moment he could see nothing.

'What?' he said, scared and angry and desperate to get away. 'What am I looking for?'

'Over there. The office where the school secretaries work.'

'What? What is it ...? Oh, my God.'

There was a girl at the window, hammering on the glass, her mouth forming a silent scream.

6.

'Who the hell is it?'

'Dunno. Never seen her before in my life.' Jack's voice sounded as dry and croaky as Ed's.

'We should keep up with the others,' said Ed, nervously glancing over to the road where Wiki and Arthur were disappearing from view.

'We can't just leave her there,' said Jack.

'No ... I know ... I didn't mean that.'

'Then what did you mean?'

'I don't know.' Ed massaged the back of his neck. Couldn't think of anything else to say.

'We're going to go and help her,' said Jack. 'OK?'

Ed turned back towards the archway. There was no sign of the teachers yet, but it was only a matter of time before they came through.

'OK,' he said.

A look of relief flooded the face of the girl in the window as they hurried over to the building. She was thin, with long hair and a slightly large nose and mouth. Her cheeks were wet with tears and her eyes red.

The boys gestured for her to open the window. She shook her head and indicated that it was locked.

'Why doesn't she just use the door?' Ed asked as he and Jack went along to the front entrance. His question was immediately answered as they came upon a small pack of teachers scrabbling in the covered entranceway to get inside.

The two boys backtracked quickly and, luckily, the teachers, too intent on trying to get in, didn't see them. When they got back to the window, the girl was crying again, and knocking uselessly against the glass with a shoe.

'That's no good,' said Jack. 'It's toughened glass.'

Ed tried to control his fear, fighting the urge to suggest that they should leave her, and then he spotted two big green wheelie bins on the other side of the yard.

'We could use one of them,' he said, pointing. 'Like a battering ram.'

'We'll try it,' said Jack, and they raced across the cobbled paving to grab a bin. All the other boys had gone down the road and Ed realized he was alone with Jack in the yard.

No. Not totally alone. The first of the teachers who had attacked them inside was shuffling through the arch, still dripping with foam.

The boys trundled the bin across the cobbles, rattling and banging on its small wheels. The noise sounded like thunder and Ed was scared it would attract the teachers in the porch.

'Stand back!' he yelled at the girl when they were close, then he and Jack hoisted the bin up on to their shoulders and, still running, launched it at the window. There was a terrific bang as the window disintegrated. For a few seconds there was no sign of the girl, and then she slowly revealed herself in the empty window frame, looking pale and shocked.

'Can you climb out?' Jack asked.

'I think so,' said the girl, her accent strange, foreign-sounding.

'Be careful of any broken glass,' said Ed, remembering what had happened to Mr Hewitt last night. The girl disappeared again and when she reappeared she was carrying a duvet and some blankets which she draped over the windowsill. Then once more she went off to get something.

'Get a move on,' Ed murmured under his breath. The teachers were advancing across the yard, and as they drew closer Ed got a good look at them. Their eyes were yellow and bulging, their skin lumpy with boils and growths, horrible pearly blisters nestling in the folds. They were streaked with foam and one or two of them had bright red blood dribbling from their mouths. One had an ear hanging off. It flapped as he waddled along. Another had some sort of huge fleshy growth bulging out from his shirt, as if he'd swallowed a desk lamp. His whole body was twisted and misshapen.

There was a shout from the window. The girl was standing there with a large plastic carrying-box. She passed it out to Ed and he realized that there was a tabby cat inside it, huddled, terrified and shivering, down at the end. Once the cat was safely out the girl manoeuvred herself over the window ledge and Jack helped her to the ground. Her whole body was shaking and her breathing quick and shallow.

She flung her arms around Jack with a great sob and buried her face in his shoulder, soaking his jacket. She kept saying the same thing over and over, her voice muffled.

'Thank you, thank you, thank you ...'

'We've got to keep moving,' said Jack, pushing her away from him. 'We've got to get away from here.'

The girl nodded and took the cat from Ed. She looked inside the box making little reassuring noises, and then spoke to the cat in what sounded like French.

Ed looked at the teachers. The girl hadn't seen them. They were getting closer by the second.

'We need to hurry,' he said, and the girl tore herself away from the cat, her large eyes very wide. Even like this, her hair a mess, her face blotchy from crying, it struck Ed that she was pretty.

He tugged at her arm, but she resisted.

'My father,' she said. 'I don't know where is my father.'

'Who's your father?' Ed asked, even though he knew it was a stupid thing to say.

'Monsieur Morel. He is a teacher here. He was looking after me. But yesterday he goes out. He is feeling sick, he goes for medicine, he does not come back. I wait for him. I wait all through the night. He does not come back.'

The girl stopped. She had finally noticed the panicked look on Ed's face. She glanced over her shoulder and gasped as she saw the teachers, almost close enough to touch.

Jack snatched hold of her arm and dragged her along, forcing her to run at his side.

'You've got to forget about your father,' he said. 'All the adults, everyone over the age of fourteen, gets sick. They die, all right? Or they turn into ... one of them.'

'Is he ... Is he sick?' said the girl, her voice high-pitched with tension. 'Is he changed?'

'No,' said Ed as they ran out of the school gates. 'No, he's not.'

'Have you seen him?' asked the girl. 'You must tell me.'

'Yes.' Jack exchanged a pained look with Ed. 'We saw him. He's dead. Sorry.'

'I knew it ...' The girl choked out the words then wailed in despair. Jack shook his head at Ed. Best not to say any more. At least neither of them had lied.

Ed hadn't left the school grounds for a few weeks. It hadn't been safe. And it was strange seeing the main road with no traffic. Even on a Sunday there had always been cars going past at all times of the day and night. Now it was utterly still and calm. Birds were singing in the trees, oblivious to how the world had changed. Not caring about the humans and their problems.

How quickly everything had fallen apart.

In a strange clear-headed moment Ed realized that for a while the world was going to be a better place for the birds, for all animals. No more cars, no more pollution, no more factories, aeroplanes, oil wells, coalmines ...

There was a very strong chance that soon there would be no more humans. What chance did children have of surviving? What was the point of going on? What was the point of crossing the road? Running, fighting, hiding ...

He didn't stop, though. Something inside made him keep on running, just as something had made him pick up the bat last night.

He looked back. They'd left the teachers behind. Nobody else had come through the school gates. Maybe they'd be safe for a while.

A little further down the high street on the other side of the road was the school chapel. It was only about two hundred years old but had been built to resemble a small medieval church, complete with bell tower and stained-glass windows. It was easy to see why Matt Palmer had thought it might be a safe place to hang out. There were battlements round the top of the tower that made it look like part of a castle.

Matt had come over here about ten days ago with some other boys. If he could be persuaded to join them and look for somewhere better to hole up, they'd have safety in numbers.

As Jack, Ed and the girl entered the gate and crossed the graveyard, they saw that the rest of the boys from the party were up ahead, huddled in the entranceway to the church. Why hadn't they gone in as they'd arranged?

'They won't open the door,' Johnno explained when Jack and Ed ran up. 'They won't even answer us.' He stopped when he saw the girl, and frowned quizzically at Jack and Ed.

'This is Monsieur Morel's daughter.' Jack gave a look to the boys that said 'keep your mouths shut'. 'Don't know her name.'

The girl seemed to have retreated into herself. Her hair hung down either side of her face like curtains and she stared at the ground. Johnno went over to her. He was a good-looking lad and had always been confident and successful with girls. Not all the boys could say the same. Rowhurst was an all-boys school and many of them had had little female contact.

Johnno squatted down so that he could look up into the girl's face.

'What's your name, love?' he asked. The girl remained silent.

'Come on, tell us your name. You're safe now.'

'Frederique,' the girl muttered, barely audible.

Johnno put a hand on her arm. 'I'm Johnno,' he said. The girl didn't respond. Johnno looked round at his friends, eyebrows raised, not sure what to do next. They were pretty shocked by the morning's events and if they hadn't been trying to tough it out and not look weak in front of each other they might all have turned in on themselves like Frederique.

Ed had been taking a look around. There was some evidence that teachers had been trying to get into the church, but the heavy oak doors looked almost indestructible and the windows were too high to reach and laced with metal. He slammed his fists against the door.

'Matt!' he yelled. 'Matthew! Open up! It's us! Open the bloody doors.' He stopped and listened, head bowed. Nothing. Not a sound.

'Maybe they're not in there,' he said. 'Maybe they've all gone.'

'We need to get inside,' said Arthur. He was staring back at the road. Three of the teachers were crossing towards them. Miss Warlock, the man with the twisted body and Mr Langston, an old history teacher. His grey hair was standing up like a crest on top of his head. He looked bewildered.

'There's a door at the side,' said one of the Field House boys. 'You can get in through the vestry. We use it for choir practice.'

'Could we force it?' Jack asked.

The choirboy shrugged.

'Well, why mention it, then?' Jack snapped viciously. 'What use is that to us?'

'There's a key,' the choirboy muttered. 'Mr Lewis, the choirmaster, uses it sometimes. We're not supposed to know about it, but we all do.'

'Why didn't you say that before? Show us.'

The choirboy led them round to where there was a lower, flat-roofed extension to the side of the chapel. A tiled overhang protected the door. The choirboy put his hand up under the beams and felt around until he found what he was looking for and brought down two keys on a ring. He quickly selected one, shoved it into the keyhole, twisted it and pushed the door open.

A rush of air was sucked through the doorway as if the church was breathing in, and the boys started to cough as they crept cautiously inside, their eyes stinging. There was the smell of smoke. A thin haze hung in the vestry and they found it difficult to fill their lungs. The vestry was filled with stuff for the church, prayer books and choristers' robes and the chaplain's bits and pieces.

'There's no oxygen,' said Ed.

'You don't say, Einstein,' Jack sneered.

Ed angrily turned on his friend and put a hand on his chest, holding him back as the others carried on through to the church. 'Leave it out, Jack. For God's sake. Stop giving everyone a hard time. What's the matter with you? You never used to be like this.'

'Yeah, I know, sorry.' Jack cleared his throat and spat on the vestry floor, then he ran his fingers over the red birthmark on his face. 'But nothing used to be like this, really, did it?'

Jack looked at Ed, defying him to argue.

'Well, it's the same for all of us,' Ed croaked. 'How does it help, you constantly having a go?'

'I said sorry, didn't I?'

'Did you? It didn't sound like much of an apology.'

'What does it matter?' said Jack, shrugging off Ed's hand. 'What does any of it matter? Hello, goodbye, please, thank you, sorry, I beg your pardon, can you pass the salt, please? What bloody difference does any of it make now? We're up to our necks in crap.'

Ed couldn't think of anything to say so simply shook his head and followed the others through to the chapel.

There was a metal dustbin in the middle of the aisle with some smouldering wood in it and a murky cloud of smoke clung to the roof beams. There were about fifteen boys in here. Some were lying in sleeping bags and under duvets on the floor, others were slumped on the pews.

'Are they dead?' asked Bam, scanning the lifeless bodies.

Ed didn't know if it was the foul air in the church, his fear or simply exhaustion, but the blood felt tight in his head, which throbbed horribly. His lungs were burning. Without being conscious of it, he'd been holding his breath since his argument with Jack. He approached one of the boys on the floor and realized with a jolt that it was his friend Malik.

He reached out a hand. Malik looked like all the blood had been drained out of him. He was completely still. Ed touched his neck. It was damp and cool but not cold. He knelt down by his side and put his ear to his chest. There was the faintest heartbeat, barely a flutter, a tiny rise and fall of his chest.

'No. They're not dead.' Ed stood up too quickly. He felt instantly dizzy and swayed on his feet.

'We need to get them out of here,' said one of the nerds. 'They need fresh air.'

'There are no windows open,' said Wiki, looking around. 'If they've been burning wood, there'll be carbon monoxide. It's given off when there's not enough oxygen left for organic matter to burn properly. It's a deadly poison. It could poison us all.'