James Munkers (7 page)

I've taken his hand before I realise what I've done, and he pulls me to my feet. When my knees start to collapse he moves his hand to my elbow and holds me up. His grip is tight, and I start to wonder if you can kill someone by crushing their joints.

‘And you?' He turns to Jem, swinging me around so we're both facing him. We're also facing Mr Barrack, whose limbs are half tangled, half splayed all over the pitch. A murderer has me by the elbow, and I don't think he's letting go any time soon. ‘Are you alright?'

‘Yeah,' Jem says, staring at Mr Barrack. ‘Yeah, I'm… Wow. He is dead, isn't he?' He edges up and prods the body with the toe of his football boot. Then he looks up at the Rambler in awe. ‘You killed a teacher.'

‘Outside of school hours. Doesn't count.' He lets go of my arm and goes to do his own inspection of the body. Now would be a good time to run away. Now would be perfect. I take a step away and –
plonk
! I'm back on the ground again. Did I just faint? So much for running away. I look around to see whether Jem's coming to my rescue, but he's squatting next to the corpse, looking over it like it's a science exhibit.

‘Straight to the heart, huh?' he says conversationally to the Rambler. ‘Solid.'

‘Yeah, but it makes a complete mess,' the Rambler replies as he runs his hands down the sides of the dead body. ‘I would have gone for a broken neck but I didn't have the right hold.' He rolls the body onto its side and the head lolls towards me, blood dripping out the mouth, eyes rolled up so far that all you can see is…

‘Mneh –'

And there goes my lunch. They both look over at me puking my guts up. ‘As if we didn't have a big enough mess to clean up,' the Rambler snaps. ‘What's your problem?'

What's my
problem
?

‘There's a dead… And you killed… And
he
's just…' I'm pointing at Jem now. ‘What the hell's going on here? You're supposed to be my best mate, and you're standing around having a chat with the guy who just threw a dagger at my head.'

Jem's expression shifts from confusion to understanding. He walks over and gives me a hand up. ‘No, he didn't,' he says. ‘It wasn't him who threw the dagger at your head. It was Barrack.'

‘What?' I look down at the dead man in front of me. I'm suddenly aware of the clamminess of my forehead – I think I'm going to faint again. ‘But he's a teacher. Why would he want to kill me?'

‘Maybe because you suck at football,' the Rambler says. He walks to the edge of the field and grabs a handful of dirt, then comes back and sprinkles it over the sick and the blood. Then he grabs Mr Barrack under the armpits and hoists him up. ‘Grab the legs.'

‘What?' I back away. ‘I'm not touching him. He's all dead, and he tried to kill me.'

The Rambler gives me a contemptuous look. ‘Well, considering his deadness, I don't think he's going to succeed now, do you?'

When I don't come forward to lend a hand he drops Barrack back onto the field with a sickening thump and marches up to me.

‘Listen, kid,' he says. ‘We don't have time to muck about. We've got a dead body in the middle of a school football field and, thanks to your little light show, probably another dozen live ones converging on us. We have to dispose of him, and we have to do it now.' He turns his head to look at Jem. ‘Is there a furnace in this school?'

Jem nods. ‘Down in the basement. Under the science rooms.'

‘That's our destination, then. We take the body, we destroy it, we get out. All without being seen – you're not ready to meet the people who are after us.' He glares at me. ‘So I suggest that you grow a pair, and grab a leg.'

In the end Jem grabs the legs and I grab the footballs. It's really tricky, carrying them both at once. Especially since my hands won't stop shaking.

We've reached the shadow of the school buildings before I realise that I'm not just shaking from shock – I'm freezing. I must have left my jumper down on the football field. I look over my shoulder, wondering whether I should run back and get it, and a chill that has nothing to do with the December weather runs down my spine.

There are figures standing on the field now. About half a dozen, dark and shadowy. I can't tell whether they're talking or looking for something, but they weren't there twenty seconds ago.

‘Um, guys?' I say softly. Jem grunts with the effort of looking around with Mr Barrack's ankles tucked up under his armpits, but then falls silent, staring out at the people in the gloom. The Rambler doesn't even bother looking up.

‘Yeah, I know,' he whispers. ‘Is there a back entrance to this building?'

‘Yeah, round to the right,' Jem murmurs back. ‘It's longer, though. Have to work our way through the primary school.'

‘It'll have to do,' he says, hefting the body up higher into his arms. ‘Quiet, now.'

We edge our way round the building, in full sight of the people on the field for most of the time, except for the shadows. I don't take my eyes off the dark figures, but they don't seem to be looking this way.

‘Who are they?' I whisper, once we've rounded a corner and found ourselves in a play area at the back of the primary school, out of earshot.

‘They're Hoarders,' the Rambler replies.

‘What are Hoarders?'

‘They're the bad guys.'

‘Informative, thanks. I picked that up, actually.'

The Rambler ignores me. ‘Which way?' he asks Jem.

Jem nods his head at a door down a walkway. ‘That door there. Might be locked, though.'

‘Not a problem.'

‘But why are they after me?' I ask, trying to catch the Rambler's eye as he lugs the body towards the door. ‘Why are they throwing daggers at my head?'

‘I don't know,' he grunts. ‘They're not supposed to know you're the One.'

‘The One?' What's he on about? ‘The one what?'

‘The one who was foretold.'

‘You know, you're not really good at the
A
part of
Q&A
, are you?'

‘And you're not good at
any
part of
shut the hell up and dispose of the body
.'

He's glaring at me now, and he's stopped walking. I know this tactic – Mum uses it all the time when she's angry, the ol' stop-and-glare. I think I'll put the questions on hold for a few minutes. Mum doesn't normally pack a knife and some serious jujitsu moves.

We hurry over to the door and I'm wondering whether the Rambler's going to treat us to a lock-picking lesson or just charge straight through it, like he did with my window, when he reaches a hand into Mr Barrack's pocket and pulls out a set of keys. ‘Come on, make yourself useful,' he says, waving them at me.

I put the footballs down on a bench, grab the keys and try them out on the lock. The third key turns, and I hold the door wide for Jem and the Rambler to bring their cargo in.

‘Okay, down this corridor to the main office, then take a right,' Jem says. ‘We might want to hurry it up, though, because Thursday night is –'

Some lights flicker on down the hall and we hear voices headed our way.

‘– cleaning night,' Jem finishes.

‘Out of the corridor,' the Rambler says, and we all dive through the nearest doorway. Jem drops Mr Barrack's feet and closes the door on us just as lights flicker on outside and the sound of a floor polisher starts up.

I can't see a thing in here. I try taking a step forward but walk straight into some shelves. Something clatters to the floor. There's a clicking sound and a little light flares up. The Rambler has produced a lighter from somewhere and is holding the flame up to the shelves surrounding us, full of bottles and buckets and brooms. It looks like we're in the cleaners' cupboard.

My heart is thumping.

‘Can I go home now?'

‘No.'

‘I don't feel well.'

‘Quit complaining,' the Rambler says, ear to the door.

‘Well quit giving me things to complain about, then, mastermind,' I snap over the sound of the polisher. ‘Dead teacher on our hands? Let's carry him around the school a bit, shall we? Hiding from cleaners? Let's all jump in the broom cupboard – brilliant. They'll never look for us here.'

‘Shut it, will you?' the Rambler hisses, while Jem makes shushing gestures.

‘No, I will not shut it!' Quit it, Jeremy. ‘I've had it with this last week. It's all blue creatures and broken windows and flying daggers and dead teachers, and I didn't ask for any of it. It's got nothing to do with me.'

‘Don't kid yourself, mate,' the Rambler says, holding the flame up to see my face. ‘It's got everything to do with you. Trust me.'

‘Trust you?' Is he kidding? ‘Three days ago you jumped through my window and tried to kill me.'

‘I wasn't trying to kill you,' the Rambler protests. ‘And we fixed the window.'

‘So you were just scaring the crap out of me for kicks, were you?'

‘I was trying to get you to reveal that you're the One,' he says. ‘And if you hadn't been so busy cowering behind your much ballsier friend here, we could have had this conversation in the comfort of your own home instead of in a cupboard with a corpse.'

‘You keep saying “the One”,' Jem says before I can retort. ‘The one what?'

The Rambler sighs and leans against the door. ‘There's a prophecy,' he says.

‘Oh, come on.' How stupid does he think we are? I know I'm into my fantasy novels, but does he really think we're going to swallow that?

‘Well, hey, if you don't want to know –'

‘No, go on,' Jem says, punching me in the arm. ‘What prophecy?'

The Rambler glares at me and addresses Jem. ‘It says that a human child will inherit the powers and change the balance between good and evil. And considering the mountain-sized protection shield this human idiot here conjured up on the football field, I'd say we finally have a contender.'

‘What, that blue light thingy? Are you saying Jim made that?'

The Rambler nods. ‘Making him of particular interest to the Guardians and the Hoarders.'

‘Who are they?'

‘The good and evil the prophecy talks about.'

‘Hold up a second,' I say. ‘I didn't make that light shield thing. It was the shiny blue panther.'

The Rambler looks at me like I'm off my rocker. ‘The what now?'

‘Swear to God. For the last week or so there've been these blue creatures following me around, and when Mr…' I swallow. I can't say it. ‘I mean, when the dagger was coming at me it just kind of exploded in my face. That's what protected me.'

Jem frowns. ‘You never told me about them.'

‘That's because they don't exist,' the Rambler scoffs. ‘You think colourful animals are rushing about protecting you? This isn't a Care Bears movie, sonny. That power came from you.'

My empty stomach churns.

‘What are you saying?'

He smiles nastily. ‘You're a wizard, Harry.'

I open my mouth to tell him to shove it, but all of a sudden the sound of the floor polisher outside dies. There's some clicking, then footsteps start coming nearer. The Rambler kills the flame and we all back into the shelves. It's useless, of course. There's nowhere to hide and, anyway, we've left Mr Barrack on the floor in plain view. A shaft of light falls on the bloody hole in his chest as a hand appears around the side of the opening door, fumbling around near the light switch. Both Jem and the Rambler are reaching for weapons, broom handles and heavy bottles, but they're too late, the person's going to see –

BOOM-boom-bumbarupruprupppprrrr…

Everyone freezes as the strange noise echoes around the empty corridors. It sounded like something bouncing. Hang on, where did I put those footballs? The hand pauses for a few terrible seconds before it disappears and we hear footsteps retreating down the hall.

‘Let's get out of here,' the Rambler whispers, and he reaches down, hauls the body onto his back and slips out of the cupboard. Jem and I peer around the door to make sure the coast is clear, then hurry after him.

‘We're going the wrong way,' Jem calls softly.

‘Too bad,' the Rambler puffs, Barrack's limbs flopping about as he hefts him around. ‘Any way that doesn't involve other people is the right way.'

We follow him into a dark classroom. He lowers the body onto the teacher's chair, runs a finger over the front desk and puts his finger to his tongue. ‘Pine-o-Clean.' He spits. ‘Cleaners have been here already. You should be safe here – just keep it down.' And he heads for the door again.

‘Wait!' He's not just going to leave us here, is he? ‘Where are you going?'

‘Relax, kitten. I'm just checking for a safe route out of here.' He shakes his head as he goes. ‘Some all-powerful hero, you are.'

I sigh and sit down on the edge of the teacher's desk. ‘Did he just call me a hero?' I ask Jem.

‘Well, you do have magical powers. That's so cool.' He peers into my face. ‘Do something magicky.'

I wonder if I actually can. I look around and spy a clock sitting on the edge of the desk. I raise my hand towards it.
Move
, I think with all my might.
Fall off the end
.

Nothing happens.

‘You know, now probably isn't the time to be experimenting,' I say, trying to hide my disappointment. Yet another thing I suck at.

‘Never mind,' says Jem kindly. ‘It probably takes a lot of practice.'

‘Either that or I haven't got magical powers.'

‘Don't be thick. There's a whole prophecy about you and everything.'

I snort. ‘That prophecy was vague enough to be about anyone. I mean… some guy, who's going to do… something.' Hmm. Maybe I should have paid more attention.