My Teacher Ate My Brain (2 page)

“It’s OK,” I said, rubbing at my throat. Then I heard a sob. “Who’s that?”

Lydia swung the torch round to reveal a second girl hunched up in the far corner. Her dress was torn and her face was streaked with tears.

“Amy!” I said, hurrying over. “Are you OK?”

“She won’t answer,” said Lydia. “She hasn’t said a word since I dragged her away from the beach. I think she’s in shock.”

“I’m not surprised,” I said, taking off my jacket and wrapping it around Amy’s shoulders. It wasn’t much, but it might help her to stop shivering. “What was that thing that bit Mr Blake?”

“Who knows?” said Lydia. “It looked like some sort of half-human, half-crab thing, but I didn’t hang around to look.”

“Me neither.”

“Have you seen the others?” Lydia asked. “Did Miss Edwards get away?”

I shook my head. “Mr Blake attacked her and she became… one of them.”

“He got Daniel, too,” said Lydia. “So that means there are three of those things out there.”

“Two, actually,” I said, wiping the sticky remains of an eyeball from my cheek. “Miss Edwards isn’t a problem any more.”

“What about Callum?”

I almost laughed. “He’s having a great time!”

“What?!”

“He thinks it’s all a set up by Mr Blake and Miss Edwards to scare us,” I said. “Like some sort of ultimate campfire horror story.”

“Moron!”

Callum might have been my best mate, but on this occasion, I couldn’t disagree.

“So, what do we do now?” I asked. “We can’t stay in here forever.”

Lydia thought for a moment. “Have you got your phone?”

I rummaged through my pockets, but they were empty. “I must have dropped it when I was fighting with Miss Edwards. How about you?”

“I have, but the battery’s dead. And I think Amy left hers in the tent before we went out.”

“Callum’s got his phone with him,” I said, suddenly remembering the flash as he took the picture of me. “But he’s probably skipping along the beach, looking for fairies.”

“We’ll have to try and get back to the tents, then,” said Lydia. “If we can find Amy’s phone, we can call — ”

SMASH!

We ducked as the shed window exploded inwards, showering us with broken glass. I could see someone moving around outside.

“It’s Mr Blake!” I hissed. The teacher’s arm forced its way through the lethal shards and a bloodied hand groped in the air to try and find us.

“Perfect!” said Lydia. “That’s better than getting to a phone!”

I stared at her. “How is a zombie finding us better than calling for help?!”

“He might have the minibus keys in his pocket!”

It took me a second to take in what Lydia was suggesting. “You want to ask him for his keys?”

“Not ask him, dimwit,” Lydia snapped, ducking as Mr Blake’s fingers brushed against her hair. “We’ll have to take them from him by force.”

“Then we’ll need weapons.”

I took the torch and swung it around the inside of the shed. Hanging on the walls were an assortment of tools. I chose a hefty gardening fork as Lydia gripped the handles of her trusty shears.

“Let’s do it!”

We burst out of the shed together, screaming at the tops of our voices. I don’t know what the screams added to the attack — but it seemed to make us feel better.

I ploughed into Mr Blake, shoulder first, sending him staggering backwards. I’d hoped to knock him to the ground, but he managed to stay on his feet and lunged at Lydia, hand outstretched. I heard her shears snap closed with a SHLINK, and four pink fingers dropped to the grass before us.

I stared at the detached digits in horror, almost expecting them to squirm around with lives of their own — but, of course, they didn’t. They just lay there, spattered in blood. Mr Blake was gazing at his stump of a hand, wiggling his thumb from side to side as a mixture of blood and black goo streamed from where his fingers should have been. Then he attacked again.

This time, Mr Blake didn’t get close enough for Lydia to use her shears. I stabbed him hard in the chest with my fork, the metal prongs sinking into his flesh and grating against the bones of his ribs. I pushed hard against the handle, knocking the teacher off his feet and onto his back.

I jumped onto Mr Blake’s stomach and put all my weight onto the fork.

“Now!” I shouted to Lydia. “Get the keys!”

Lydia dropped to her knees and began to search through Mr Blake’s trouser pockets. The creature beneath me finally roared in anger and tried to force himself up, but every movement just caused the fork to sink lower and lower into his chest.

FLASH!

I jumped as a burst of light hit us. It was Callum again.

“Wow!” he yelled in excitement. “Where did you get these made? They’re so lifelike!”

He was picking up Mr Blake’s severed fingers!

“Callum!” I barked. “Put those down and listen to me! This is not a joke — it’s all real!”

The smile on Callum’s face faltered slightly as he glanced down at the fork in Mr Blake’s chest, and then back up at me.

“Real?” he said, a slight tremor in his voice.

“Yes!” snapped Lydia. “Now, stop taking stupid pictures and help us!”

For a second, I really thought he believed us. Then another figure came lurching out of the darkness. It was Daniel, although I could only tell by the clothes he was wearing. Almost all of his face had been torn away, leaving behind a mass of red flesh.

“Brilliant make-up, Daniel!” cried Callum. He quickly took a picture of his advancing school friend, and then scampered off laughing to himself.

“Got them!” Lydia pulled a bunch of keys from one of Mr Blake’s pockets. “Let’s get to the minibus!”

I hesitated, even though Mr Blake was clawing at the leg of my jeans with his good hand and Daniel was shuffling in our direction — presumably attracted by the sound as he didn’t appear to have any eyes left.

“What about Amy?”

Lydia shot a look back at the shed where her friend was still cowering.

“If we go back in there, we might never get out again. And if she stays quiet, they might not find her.”

She was right. We had to leave Amy behind. I left the fork sticking out of Mr Blake’s chest and we ran.

Lydia grabbed the handle of the driver’s door then paused, her breathing heavy.

“What’s the matter?” I asked.

“I don’t know how to drive,” she admitted.

I’m nowhere near old enough to take my test yet, either, but I’ve driven the tractor on my uncle’s farm a few times.

“I’ll do it.”

Lydia tossed me the keys and ran round to jump in the passenger seat. I started the engine, released the handbrake — and we were off.

We roared past the camp site’s offices and the small shop and cafe — all locked up and dark — and we’d driven a couple of hundred metres along the causeway before the engine stalled. It was probably just as well; the tide was still in and covering the road. All I could see was black, churning water. One false move and we’d end up in the sea.

I turned the key, spinning the starter motor over. Nothing. I tried again. Just a groaning whirr. The engine wouldn’t start.

“What are you doing?” demanded Lydia. I could hear the panic rising in her voice.

“I’m not doing anything.”

“Start the engine!”

“It won’t start!”

“We can’t just sit here! They’ll be coming after us! We have to —”

FLASH!

Christ! It was Callum again! He’d jumped up on the bonnet of the minibus and was grinning at us through the windscreen. He looked like a monkey climbing over a car at a safari park.

Lydia swung her door open.

“Get in here, you cretin!” she screamed.

Callum jumped down into the knee-high water and clambered in past her.

“This is awesome!” he shrieked happily. “Come on, whose idea was it? I bet it was Daniel’s, wasn’t it? He’s always been into drama!”

Then Lydia screamed. Before she could close the door, a hand plunged inside the minibus and grabbed her by the arm. I clutched at the neck of her T-shirt and pulled back as hard as I could but whoever had hold of her arm was clearly stronger than me and I felt the material begin to rip.

“HELP ME!” Lydia sobbed as she was dragged slowly but steadily out into the darkness. I tried. I really did. But her T-shirt simply gave way. I couldn’t save her…

Lydia disappeared into the gloom outside the minibus with a final choking scream. All I could do was reach across and slam the door closed behind her.

Outside, in the headlights, I could see Mr Blake, Daniel and Amy — oh no — they’d got Amy, too — as they pushed Lydia down out of sight and fell on top of her, mouths wide and dripping with drool.

FLASH!

And Callum was taking bloody photos of the whole thing!

I spun round in my seat to face him and snatched the phone out of his hands.

“Stop it!” I yelled, tears burning my eyes. “This isn’t a sodding game!”

SMASH!

The window behind my head caved in and another hand snaked inside. It grabbed my hair and slammed my head back hard against the metal of the door again and again until I could feel warm, sticky blood start to run down my neck.

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

The worst thing was, Callum must have knocked the rear-view mirror as he climbed into the minibus, and I had a clear view of who was attacking me.

It was Miss Edwards.

The handle of the spatula still protruding from her burst eye, she snarled as she slammed my head back one final time.

BANG!

CRACK!

I heard my skull break and watched in silent shock as Miss Edwards worked her fingers into the break and pull the two halves of my head apart. I expected to feel pain, to scream in agony — but there was nothing. I guess your body can only take so much before it simply switches off.

On the back seat, Callum was almost vibrating with excitement.

“I can’t wait to post this stuff online!”

He reached forwards and snatched his phone back from the front seat.

“I’m going to video this bit for YouTube!”

I stared into the lens of his camera phone as Miss Edwards pushed her face into my exposed brain and began to feast. Poor Callum. Everyone thought he was an idiot — except me. I didn’t think he was an idiot.

I thought he looked delicious.