The 13th Horseman (11 page)

“No more training,” he said. “I want to go home.”

The veins on War’s head stood out again, but he didn’t shout this time. Instead, he stomped past Drake and swung himself up into the saddle of his ruby red horse. “I tell you,” he muttered, “this ninety days can’t end soon enough.”

With a “
Yah!
” and a tug of the reins, War and his horse took to the sky and were quickly lost among the clouds.

“He doesn’t mean it,” said Pest softly.

Drake sniffed. “I don’t care,” he said. “Just take me home.”

D
RAKE LAY IN
bed, listening to the ticking of his clock. He’d stopped looking at it a few hours ago, when the hands had been creeping past one o’clock. No matter how hard he’d tried since then, he couldn’t fall asleep.

He put it down to worry. He could never sleep when he was worried, and right now things were queuing up to be worried about.

Someone was trying to kill him. Someone
had
tried to kill him. Twice. That was one of the things bothering him, but that wasn’t even the biggie.

Armageddon. The end of the world. It sounded ridiculous – the idea that the whole world could just suddenly and abruptly come to a stop. How could one man destroy the whole world and everyone on it? It seemed impossible.

And yet both Pestilence and War had said it
was
possible. And, of course, Death Nine wasn’t just any normal man.

Drake thought about that. The old Death was human now – someone ‘dark and sinister’ if Pestilence was right. That pointed to one obvious suspect. And the metal sphere
had
come from inside his classroom.

Could Dr Black be the old Death? Drake had been relieved when Mr Franks showed up to take him away from the history teacher’s classroom, but now he couldn’t help but wonder what he might have found out if he’d hung around.

The cupboard, he thought, might still hold some answers, even if it didn’t hold the bodies of Bingo and his cohorts. It was worth a look, anyway. He’d have to find some way of unlocking the door, of course, but maybe there’d be something in there to help him figure out if Dr Black really was Death number nine. And, if he was, maybe there’d be some sort of clue as to whether he really was capable of ending the world.

Drake rolled over, making the bed creak. A few nights ago he’d been lying awake worrying about starting school. Now he was lying awake worrying about the Apocalypse. A lot had happened since Monday.

Drake got up, tiptoed to the window and looked out. Through the darkness, he could just make out a small red roof at the far end of the garden.

Pulling on a jumper and wriggling his feet into his shoes, Drake undid the window latch, and quietly slid the wooden frame open.

Famine was sitting on the grass outside the shed, his back leaning against a side wall. He looked up as Drake approached, revealing a face smeared with streaks of brown. The fat man’s fingers dipped into a jar of chocolate spread he held between his thighs. He scooped out a dollop of the stuff, licked the finger clean, then clamped a pudgy hand over the jar.

“It’s mine,” he said.

“Yeah, I know,” Drake said. “I’m not hungry, anyway.”

“Lucky you,” Famine replied, as he scooped out some more of the gooey spread.

Drake sat on the grass beside him. “I couldn’t sleep,” he said. “Thought some fresh air might help.”

“It won’t,” Famine said. “You don’t need as much sleep now. Hardly any, really.”

“Really? I don’t know if that’s good or bad,” Drake admitted.

“Bad,” Famine told him. “Very bad. Being awake’s overrated.”

Drake thought about this. “I suppose you could get lots done, though, without sleep.”

“Maybe. If you had something worth doing,” Famine said. “All we have to do is wait. You don’t need to be awake to wait.”

He reached the bottom of the jar. Drake watched in horrified fascination as the horseman stuck his tongue into the container and began licking the inside clean.

“You’re doing the right thing, I reckon,” Famine said, when the jar was spotless.

“What do you mean?”

“Jacking it in. We’ve been waiting on the call for what, six or seven thousand years now? Starting to drag a bit, if I’m being honest. You’re best getting out when you can.”

“How come you’ve all lasted?” Drake asked. “Why is it just Death that keeps –” he reached for a suitable word, but couldn’t find one – “cracking up?”

Famine shrugged. The shed he was leaning against creaked loudly in protest. “Death’s the leader, and he’s the most powerful. Maybe it’s that that does it. The power. Or maybe it’s the responsibility. Don’t ask me.”

“The most powerful?” Drake muttered. “I can’t even summon my horse.”

“You’ll get there. It just takes practice. And the right mindset.”

“And the ability to whistle,” Drake added.

Famine grunted what might have been a laugh. “Yeah, that’s a help an’ all.” He lifted up a roll of flab and pulled out a tin of mackerel. “You really can’t whistle?” he asked, cracking the ring pull and tearing open the lid.

Drake put his fingers in his mouth and blew. A slightly damp silence emerged. “Nope,” he said. “I’ve never been able to do it.”

Famine lifted the can to his lips and half drank, half ate the fishy contents. Drake thought that it was just as well he wasn’t hungry. After that, he didn’t think he’d ever want to eat again.

“What’s your horse like?” Drake asked, when Famine had wiped the oily fish residue from his chin.

“Bandy-legged,” Famine said, then he laughed a hollow laugh. “I don’t ride much, these days.” He looked at his hands, all smeared with oil and fish bits. “Don’t do much of anything, these days.”

They sat in silence for a while longer. “I think... I mean, I’m not sure, but I think one of my teachers might be Death. The old Death, I mean. The last one.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Dr Black, his name is. Do you think he could be?”

Famine shrugged. “Why don’t you ask him?”

“Well, because he might try to kill me again, for one thing.”

“Yeah, he might at that. Still, I suppose it’ll all be over soon.”

Drake frowned. “What do you mean?”

“The Apocalypse. If he kicks it all off, it’ll all be over for everyone. Won’t have to worry about anything any more.”

Drake thought about this. “Yeah. I suppose.”

He got to his feet. There was a strong breeze blowing around the garden, and he was surprised he didn’t feel cold. “I’m going to head back to bed and lie awake until morning.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Famine said.

Drake gave him a nod. “See you later.”

“See you later.”

Drake was almost at the wall of weeds when he stopped. “Do you mind if I ask you something?”

Famine shook his head. “I don’t mind.”

“Why don’t you quit? If you don’t like it, why don’t you quit?”

“Look at me,” Famine said. He gestured down at himself in general. “What else could I do?”

Drake didn’t quite know what to say to that, so he smiled in what he hoped was a supportive way. “Bye, then,” he said, and he pushed aside the first few blades of the tangled grass.

“G’night, Drake.”

With one final glance back, Drake slipped into the grass and headed for home.

“How was horse riding?”

The question accosted Drake before he had reached the end of the path. Mel popped up from behind the fence. Drake couldn’t help noticing that her hair was a shocking shade of red.

“Um... it didn’t really work out in the end,” he told her. “Don’t think it’s my strong point.”

“Shame,” said Mel, but Drake thought she looked secretly quite pleased by this news. “Maybe I can teach you one day.”

“Yeah, that would be... What happened to your hair?”

“Oh that; like it? I’m in disguise.”

“What as? A tomato?”

“Hey, that was quite quick for you,” she said, smiling. “No, I’m disguised as someone with red hair.” She explained it slowly, as if talking to an idiot. “So, you know, someone who’s not me.”

Drake hopped over the gate. “And why are you in disguise, exactly?”

“Because I don’t want to be recognised when we sneak back into Dr Black’s classroom,” she explained.

“And why are we doing that?” Drake asked. Even though he’d had exactly the same idea himself, he was interested to hear Mel’s reason for it.

“Because I was thinking – he still lied. Whether Bingo and that lot turned up or not, he still lied about you being the last one to see them. So, after you went into the shed with your uncle – which, you know, is a new level of weird, by the way – I went back to the school and watched for Dr Black coming out.”

“And?” Drake asked.

“He didn’t.”

“He didn’t what?”

“He didn’t come out. I stood there until ten o’clock. He didn’t come out.”

Drake raised both eyebrows in surprise. “Ten o’clock? Seriously?”

“Wasn’t like I had anything better to do,” Mel said. “After that, I went straight home and disguised my head. He’s up to something, I’m sure of it, and we need to find out what.”

Drake bit his tongue, then decided just to go for it. “I think he’s going to try to destroy the world.”

Mel looked back at him blankly.

“I mean, I’m not sure, but he might be.”

“Right,” she said slowly. “Because I was thinking he might be sleeping in his classroom or something. Like, maybe he couldn’t pay his rent.”

“Or it could be that,” Drake backpedalled. “It could be that too.”

Mel considered the alternatives. “Either one’s reason enough to snoop around in the cupboard, I reckon.” She made up her mind. “If he’s planning on destroying the world, then we’ll stop him. If he’s using the cupboard to sleep in then we’ll, I don’t know, fart on his bed or something. Deal?”

“Deal,” said Drake, then he drew in a breath. “Imagine he
was
planning to destroy the world,” he said. He tried to sound like he was joking, but his voice took on a serious tone all by itself. “What if we couldn’t stop him? What if no one could?”

Mel thought about this. “That,” she announced, at last, “would be a real bummer.”

T
HIS TIME, THEY
waited until lunch before going anywhere near Dr Black’s classroom. He was on guard duty at the canteen, making sure the food didn’t incite anyone to riot. This meant he would be out of the way for at least twenty-five minutes. That left plenty of time for Drake and Mel to snoop around.

The cupboard door, however, was still locked. Drake studied it. He tapped the wood in several places, without having any real idea why. He’d seen them do it in DIY shows on TV before, so presumably it must serve some purpose.

“I suppose I could try walking through it,” he said. One of the good things about Mel, he had discovered, was that he could say almost anything he wanted to her, and she never seemed in the least bit surprised. Like just then, for example.

“You could try that, certainly,” she said. She held up a key. “Or, we could try this.”

Drake’s eyes lit up. “Where did you get that?”

“Like I said, I have my sources. Don’t ask too many questions,” she said mysteriously. Then she added, “It was there. On the desk.”

“Oh,” said Drake, a little disappointed. If there really
was
something sinister in the cupboard, Dr Black was unlikely to leave the key just lying around for anyone to find. “Give it a try, then,” he urged.

Mel slid the key into the lock. There was a soft
clunk
as it turned. Mel pushed the door open and a cool breeze hit them both in the face. From within the cupboard, Drake heard the low drone of an air-conditioning system, and a feeling of dread began to pump through his veins.

“Mel, wait,” he said, but Mel was already stepping into the darkened space and fumbling for the light switch. He bounded in after her as the light came on, revealing a room just two metres wide, and about three times as long.

The cupboard was completely empty, aside from a table that took up almost the entire length of the back wall. A black cloth covered the table and hung down to the floor on all sides. On top of the tablecloth were tools and circuit boards and oddly shaped pieces of metal. Above it, bolted on to the ceiling, two fans noisily pumped out cold air.

Mel raced up to the table and began prodding at the circuit boards. Drake was more cautious. The fans were just like those in the Junk Room cave. He kept his eyes open for self-assembly robotic demons as he walked over to join her.

“I don’t believe I’m seeing this,” said a voice from behind them. Drake and Mel turned to find Mr Franks in the doorway of the cupboard. He had his arms folded across his chest and an expression that was halfway between disappointed and furious. “What are you doing here?” he demanded. “You shouldn’t be in here.”

Mel was talking before an excuse could form in Drake’s head.

“I’m glad you’re here, Mr Franks,” she said. “Something fishy’s going on.”

“You’re breaking into Dr Black’s cupboard. That’s what’s fishy,” the teacher said reproachfully.

“No, check this out,” Mel said, indicating the circuitry and components on the tabletop. “Tell me this isn’t weird stuff for a history teacher to have lying around?”

Despite himself, Mr Franks peered past them. He cast his gaze across the items on the table.

“What is that stuff?” he asked, staying back by the door. “You shouldn’t be messing about with it. Dr Black wouldn’t like it.”

“No,” Mel said. She gave a low whistle. “He probably wouldn’t. What do you think it is?”

Drake studied the bits of metal. He didn’t recognise any of them, although he recognised their shiny chrome colour. “Not sure,” he said, only half lying.

Mr Franks took a few faltering steps into the cupboard and looked down over their shoulders. “It’s probably nothing,” he said. “Just... some sort of project, or something.”

“Yeah, Project
Destroy the World
,” Mel said dramatically. “Or Project Build a Home Computer in Sixty Collectable Parts. One or the other.”

“It’s not like any computer I’ve ever seen,” Mr Franks said. Despite his initial concerns about them being in the cupboard, he couldn’t help but be interested by the components on the table. He picked up a circuit board and studied it. “It looks so... advanced,” he said. “Where did he get his hands on something like this?”

“You could ask him,” suggested Mel.

“Ha,” said Mr Franks, without humour. “Yeah, there’s an idea.”

Mel swallowed and pointed to the cupboard door. “No, I mean,
you could ask him
.”

Mr Franks and Drake both set down the components they were holding, and turned round. The skeletal frame of Dr Black stood in the doorway, his face drawn in anger.

“What... do you think... you are doing?” he demanded in a voice like grinding teeth.

“Dr Black, there you are,” Mr Franks said. He walked towards the other teacher, trying to smile, but failing miserably. “I can explain; you see we were—”

The back of Dr Black’s hand caught Mr Franks across the side of the face. The younger teacher spun until he hit the closest wall. With a faint whimper, he slid down the wall and on to the lino floor.

“Whoa,” Mel said. For the first time since Drake had met her, she looked genuinely shocked. “That was harsh.”

Dr Black took a step into the cupboard. Behind him, the door swung closed. “Mr Finn. Miss Monday,” he said, over-pronouncing every syllable. “I told you not to come here again. I warned you to stay away, but yet here you are, trying to interfere with my plans.” He took another step towards them. “Do you think you can stop me? Is that it? Don’t you realise the irony? It isn’t your job to try to stop me. It’s
your
job to stand at the sidelines and cheer me on.”

“You
are
him,” Drake said. He’d had his suspicions, but having them confirmed still came as a shock. “You’re Death Nine.”

“At your service,” Dr Black said, bowing his head just slightly.

“Death Nine? What are you talking about?” Mel asked.

“The others told me why you left. What are you planning to do?” Drake asked. He couldn’t hide the tremble in his voice.

“First, I’m going to get my strength back. And then I’m going to do something –” he waved a hand around, as if searching for a fitting word – “spectacular.”

“Like what?”

Dr Black gave a low chuckle. “I’m not a Bond villain, Mr Finn. Do you really think I’m going to tell you every detail of my scheme?”

“Well, I kind of hoped...”

“I
will
tell you when I’m going to put it into action, though. When I’m going to start the ball rolling on Armageddon, so to speak.”

“When?”

Dr Black reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek black smartphone. He swiped a finger across the screen a few times, then stabbed a thumb against one of the icons.

“Armageddon,” Dr Black said, with a callous smile. “There’s an app for that.”

“What did you do?” Drake demanded. “What have you done?”

“I’ve started the ball rolling on the end of the world, but you shouldn’t concern yourself with what I’ve done. You should worry about what I’m
going
to do next.” He leaned in closer. “I’m going to kill you, Mr Finn. Right now. And after I’ve killed you, I’m going to kill her.” He shifted his gaze to Mel for just a second, but in that moment, Drake saw his chance.

Roaring, he threw himself at the teacher, shoulder lowered, chin tucked into his chest. War had said that in human form the previous Death would be powerless. He looked frail too. One solid hit should be enough to take him down.

Drake ploughed into Dr Black, but it felt like he’d run head-first into a wall. The teacher didn’t so much as take a single backwards step. He caught the bent-over boy by the waist, hoisted him into the air, then smashed him back down on the floor beside Mr Franks. Drake was surprised – not by the unexpected wrestling move, although that was surprising enough in itself. He was more surprised by the fact that it didn’t really hurt.

It also didn’t hurt when the tip of Dr Black’s shoe was driven into his ribs, although he definitely felt it. Drake rolled clumsily in the narrow cupboard and scrambled to get back to his feet.

“Hey, leave him alone!” Mel yelled. She moved to lash out at the teacher, but Drake’s arm came up to block her way.

“Don’t,” he said sharply. “Stay away from him. He’ll kill you. He’s crazy.”

Two pinpricks of red lit up in the teacher’s eyes. “You say the sweetest things.”

“What’s going on?” Mel asked, backing away.

“Tell her, Mr Finn,” Dr Black oozed. “Tell her everything. Tell her what you really are.”

“What’s he talking about?” The usual light-hearted tone was gone from Mel’s voice now. She was serious. And she was scared. “What have you got me mixed up in?”

“I’ll explain later,” said Drake. “I promise.”

“You know, Mr Finn,” Dr Black began. He raised his bony hands in a choking motion. “You really shouldn’t make promises that you cannot keep.”

THUDOOM!

The door at Dr Black’s back flew open with such force that it cracked the solid stone wall where it hit. The teacher spun one-eighty on his toes, his hands now clenched into fists.

At first, he saw no one, but a movement down by the floor soon caught his attention. He looked down to see a flea-ridden creature glaring back up at him. The hair on the cat’s back stood up as it bared its rotten teeth, extended its filthy claws and said, “Woof”.