Mutation

by Chris Morphew

  ‘WHAT DO YOU TWO THINK YOU ARE DOING?’

  Mr Hanger had just come roaring in from the quad. I dropped from Tank’s shoulders and turned to face him.

  Tank glanced over at Mike, looking for instructions. Mike shook his head.

  ‘Sir!’ said Peter. ‘Tank was beating up one of the Year 7s! Jordan was just trying to –’

  ‘Quiet, Peter,’ Mr Hanger snapped.

  Jeremy was still crying on the floor. I reached out a hand and pulled him up.

  Mr Hanger strode closer to the two of us. ‘Anything you’d like to tell me, Jeremy?’

  Jeremy opened his mouth to explain, but then Tank held a fist up behind Mr Hanger’s back and he said, ‘No, sir.’

  ‘All right then,’ said Mr Hanger. ‘All of you – out.’

  ‘Sir,’ I said, ‘you can’t just –’

  ‘You heard me, Miss Burke.’

  I glared at him, but gave up the argument. Couldn’t risk getting Pryor involved.

  Satisfied, Mr Hanger walked off. I looked around for Jeremy, but he’d already made his escape.

  Mike, Cathryn and Tank were halfway down the hall, heading out to the quad.

  ‘So this is what you guys are doing for fun these days, huh?’ Peter called after them. ‘Beating up little kids?’

  ‘Only the ones who deserve it,’ said Mike.

  Peter started after them, but I grabbed his arm. ‘Don’t. Not now.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Luke. ‘Bell’s about to go anyway. We can corner them in science.’

  ‘Whoa – what’s that?’ said Peter. His attention had shifted to my hand around his arm.

  I let go. ‘I already told you, I fell off my bike on the way.’

  ‘No, Jordan,’ said Luke. ‘Look.’

  I stared down at my right hand, the hand I’d used to help Jeremy up off the floor. It was covered in a patch of something pinkish-white.

  No, not covered. Stained.

  A whole patch of my skin had suddenly changed colour from brown to white.

  A patch of skin the exact size and shape of Jeremy’s hand.

  Chapter 4

  SATURDAY, JUNE 13

  61 DAYS

  ‘It still won’t come off,’ I said, stretching out my hand to reveal the five-fingered birthmark wrapping around my palm and up my wrist, like Jeremy had dipped his hand in paint before grabbing me with it. I’d had a go at covering over the mark with some of Mum’s concealer, but it was still pretty visible if you were looking for it.

  When we’d got to science yesterday morning, I’d noticed that Tank’s knuckles were the same – pale white in the places where they’d collided with Jeremy. The change wasn’t as noticeable on Tank’s lighter skin, but it was definitely still there.

  Jeremy had stayed well clear of us all for the rest of the day.

  Now it was late the next afternoon and I was over at Luke’s place, waiting for Montag to arrive. It was weird being here without Peter. It shouldn’t have been a big deal, but for some reason it left me feeling slightly on-edge.

  In my house, this upstairs bedroom belonged to Georgia. It was kind of unsettling to see it all scattered with inside-out clothes and video game magazines and smelling like boy. Since I’d been up here last, Luke had blu-tacked a couple of old photos of him and his dad to the wall above his bed.

  The doc was running late. If he didn’t hurry up, Dad would be coming over to get me before we’d even had time to eat.

  ‘Did your parents notice?’ asked Luke, studying my hand.

  ‘Nope,’ I said. ‘You know how distracted they both are lately. Besides, last night they were much more interested in having a “discussion” about why I’ve suddenly turned into a pyromaniac.’

  ‘Bet that was fun,’ said Luke.

  ‘They know,’ I said, before I’d even realised I was saying it. ‘They know I’m hiding something.

  Dad kept asking me these leading questions, like he wanted me to deny it all – and I almost …’

  I sighed and sat down on the edge of Luke’s bed. ‘Look, I know we can’t tell them anything, but – They’re just so confused. And it’s hurting them. I can’t keep this up forever. I don’t know how much longer I can keep on pretending everything’s all right.’

  Luke sat down next to me. ‘What is it now? Sixty-two days?’

  ‘Sixty-one,’ I said.

  ‘Right.’

  I stared out the window.

  ‘Doesn’t even make sense,’ said Luke eventually, breaking the silence. ‘They print these accusations, but then they don’t even do anything about them. Not that it matters to my mum. She’s still buying everything the Co-operative tells her – especially the stuff about me. But she’s decided it’s my way of coping with the divorce, and her thing with Montag, so she’s being extra nice to me all of a sudden. Just waiting for me to get it out of my system and go back to being a good little boy again.’ He rolled his eyes.

  Luke was like the complete opposite of Peter.

  Peter was erratic, all-over-the-place. You could put him in the same situation ten times and he’d react ten different ways.

  Luke was much more straightforward. Not in a simple, predictable way. But I knew I could count on him to make sense.

  He reached down and picked up my right hand, pulling me back to the present. But he wasn’t looking at the handprint. He was looking at the graze I’d given myself yesterday morning.

  ‘It happened again, didn’t it?’ he said. ‘Another one of your … vision things.’

  ‘What makes you say that?’ I said.

  Luke gave me a look. ‘Since when do you just randomly fall off your bike on the way to school?’

  He ran a finger across the graze on my palm, then suddenly seemed to realise what he was doing and dropped my hand back into my lap.

  ‘Yeah,’ I said, losing focus for a second. ‘Yeah, you’re right.’

  I stood up.

  ‘What happened?’ he asked.

  ‘It was the night at the Shackleton Building. When all of the stuff with Mum’s baby started. And it was the clearest one so far. The one of – of Reeve at Flameburger, and the one of the trapdoor thing in Pryor’s office … They were just kind of flashes. You know, bits and pieces. But this one – I was there for, like, a good thirty seconds. A minute, even.’

  Luke got to his feet too. I expected him to come out with something sympathetic or reassuring, but instead he said, ‘Do you think they’re connected?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Your – Your visions or whatever they are, and Ghost’s skin thing. Both happening here in Phoenix. I mean, it can’t just be a coincidence, can it?’

  My stomach turned. The same idea had occurred to me, but I’d been trying not to think about it. Because if me and Jeremy were both being affected by the same thing …

  ‘Crap,’ said Luke, catching up. ‘Crazy Bill.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said heavily. ‘Remember back in Ketterley’s office? Ketterley and Calvin were talking about him. Ketterley was worried that whatever’s happened to Bill might start happening to … other people. What if he was right? I mean, what if that’s why Bill knows so much? Because he’s seen it all already. What if I’m –?’

  ‘Jordan, stop. You’re not turning into Bill.’

  ‘You don’t know what I’m –’

  ‘We can fix it,’ he said firmly. ‘That’s why we’re fighting. So we can stop whatever’s going on out here.’ He yanked my hand up in front of me. ‘Including this.’

  I stared at the hand for a second, then pulled it out of his grip.

  ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘You’re right. Sorry.’

  ‘No, listen, you’re not the only one who’s –’

  He broke off as the doorbell rang. ‘Montag,’ he said, warmth disappearing from his voice. ‘About time. You ready?’

  We headed downstairs and found Luke’s mum showing Montag into the dining room. When I’d arrived, she’d still had a suit on from her day in the office, but she’d obviou
sly dressed herself up a bit in the meantime. Luke’s eyes went dark at the sight of the skirt she was wearing.

  Montag was standing with his back to us. Luke’s mum looked past him and saw us coming through the doorway.

  ‘Have a seat, guys!’ she said, slipping into the kitchen. ‘Just getting the salad.’

  The doc turned around, and I almost smiled at the shocked expression on his face.

  He didn’t know we were coming.

  ‘Luke,’ he said, recovering quickly as Ms Hunter returned. ‘Good to see you again.’

  ‘Thought it was about time you two started getting to know each other a bit better,’ she smiled, putting the salad bowl down on the table.

  ‘Ah, of course,’ said Montag. He pulled out a chair. ‘This looks wonderful, Emily.’

  The table was piled high with food: a big lamb roast (which made me wonder again where all our meat was coming from in this place), potatoes, salad and veggies, hot bread rolls …

  Luke sat down at the table, fuming. He was always complaining that his mum never made the effort to cook anything, but it looked like she’d made an exception for the doc.

  ‘Oh, it’s not much, really,’ said Luke’s mum, taking my plate and piling on a bit of everything. ‘How was work?’

  ‘Same as usual,’ said Montag. ‘Run off my feet.’

  My chest tightened. Mum had been back at the medical centre today for yet another appointment.

  ‘And you?’ the doc asked.

  ‘Exhausting,’ Ms Hunter sighed. ‘I barely got through anything with all the people coming in and out of my office. I assume you’ve heard about Luke’s latest escapade?’ She sent a disapproving look in my direction. Apparently, her tolerance for Luke’s actions didn’t extend to me.

  Luke glared at his mum across the table. Even in a normal dinner situation, bringing your son’s behaviour issues up in front of your new boyfriend wasn’t exactly a diplomatic move.

  ‘I did read something about it in yesterday’s paper,’ said Montag, buttering a roll. He looked up at Luke and me. ‘You children should be more careful. Keep carrying on like that and you’re going to find yourself in some serious trouble.’

  I stabbed my fork down into a hunk of meat, imagining it was Montag’s leg.

  ‘Funny how we managed to be in two places at once that night,’ I said. ‘Somehow getting that fire started even though we were sitting at Reeve’s funeral the whole time. Pretty impressive, when you think about it.’

  Luke’s mum pursed her lips.

  Montag swallowed a mouthful of food and dabbed his beard with a serviette. ‘May I give you some advice, Jordan? If you ask me, you’d be far better off simply owning up to your indiscretions. Denial will only get you deeper into trouble.’

  ‘Yeah, thanks for the tip,’ I said coldly.

  Luke’s eyes twitched between me and the doc, and I could tell he was starting to wonder whether bringing me here had been such a good idea.

  ‘Terrible what happened to that poor security officer,’ said Luke’s mum abruptly. But if she was looking for a way to defuse the tension, she’d picked the wrong topic.

  ‘Yeah,’ I said, staring at Montag. ‘Terrible.’

  ‘Quite tragic,’ he agreed, putting down his knife and fork for a moment. ‘Though his own recklessness played no small part in it.’

  My insides twisted again.

  ‘Mm,’ said Luke’s mum, taking a drink of water. ‘Trying to help out with some repairs or something, wasn’t he?’

  ‘Foolish,’ said Montag. ‘He was toying with things far beyond his understanding. He should have kept right out of it.’

  ‘So Reeve deserved what he got, did he?’ I said, raising my voice more than I’d meant to.

  Ms Hunter’s face was beginning to turn red.

  ‘It was an abject mess of a situation caused by reckless and irresponsible behaviour,’ said Montag, gripping the table with both hands. ‘I did everything I could to save as many lives as possible.’

  ‘Well, you did a pretty crap job of it,’ Luke muttered.

  ‘Luke!’ his mum snapped.

  ‘No, Emily, it’s all right,’ said Montag in a tone that was completely at odds with the words coming out of his mouth. ‘It’s natural for him to be angry. It’s part of the grieving process.’

  Ms Hunter narrowed her eyes at Luke, probably wanting to know why on earth he needed to grieve the death of a man he barely knew. But before she had time to respond, the doorbell rang again.

  I looked at my watch. Eight o’clock already. That would be Dad at the door.

  Stupid curfew.

  Ms Hunter stood up. Tonight was really not going well for her.

  Montag waited until she was out of the room. Then he leant across the table, jabbing a finger at Luke and me.

  ‘You foolish – arrogant – children,’ he hissed. ‘What could you possibly think you’re achieving here?’

  ‘So, what,’ I said, ‘you expect us to just lie down and take it?’

  ‘Do you honestly believe you can stop what’s being done here?’ Montag said. ‘Like it or not, Jordan, the world has changed. This is the way things are now. The only question left to you is how much more blood you want on your hands before you accept that.’

  Things would’ve got ugly very quickly if Dad hadn’t walked into the room at that moment. He glanced at the doc, surprised to see him here, then down at me. I tried to wipe the anger from my face, but he must have caught the edge of it. ‘Jordan? You okay?’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said, abandoning my half-finished meal. ‘C’mon. Let’s go. Thanks for dinner, Ms Hunter.’

  ‘Don’t mention it,’ said Luke’s mum tonelessly.

  ‘Oh, Abraham, before you go …’ The doc got up and crossed to talk to Dad. ‘Would it be possible for you and Samara to drop in to see me tomorrow?’

  A little shiver sparked up my spine.

  ‘Sure, doc,’ said Dad. ‘Have you figured out what’s –?’

  ‘I think it would be best if you waited and let me explain in the morning,’ Montag cut in. ‘I believe I’ve ascertained what’s been troubling your wife and the baby …’

  ‘But?’ said Dad.

  The doc looked uncomfortable. ‘Let’s just say things may be slightly more complicated than we’d first thought.’

  Chapter 5

  SUNDAY, JUNE 14

  60 DAYS

  ‘Okay,’ said Georgia, gesturing excitedly with her hands as we walked down the street, ‘this time you can be the princess and I can be the dinosaur.’

  I glanced down at her. ‘Georgia, I don’t think I really understand this game.’

  We reached the end of our block and I turned the corner, into another identical street lined with more identical houses. Prison cells dressed up as homes. Georgia stomped around behind me, arms up above her head like claws.

  ‘Princess! Princess! I’m going to eat you up!’

  Usually, I would have played along, but I just didn’t have the headspace for it today.

  Mum and Dad were already on their way to see Dr Montag. After a solid hour of pestering last night, they’d finally agreed to let me come with them – but first, I had to drop Georgia off at a friend’s place.

  Back home, there would have been a dozen aunts, uncles and grandparents falling over themselves to take Georgia for the day. Phoenix was a different story. It had taken Mum ages to find someone to mind her on such short notice.

  I stopped at the house.

  A second later, Georgia’s hands clamped down on my hips.

  ‘CHOMP! CHOMP! CHOMP!’ she shouted, hammering me with her fingertips. ‘EAT! EAT! EAT!’

  ‘Oi, stop,’ I said, batting her away with one hand and pulling the front gate open with the other. ‘Settle down, will you? We’re here.’

  ‘I know we are!’ said Georgia, letting go of me and rolling her eyes. She raced up the path and started banging on the front door. I caught up to her just as the door swung open.

  A fre
ckle-faced girl stood in the doorway. It was Lauren, one of the Year 7s who’d pestered us almost non-stop during our stint as Pryor’s staff-student liaisons.

  For a second, I thought we’d come to the wrong house. But then I heard footsteps thundering up the hall behind her, and Georgia’s friend Max poked his head out.

  ‘Georgia!’ he said. ‘I’m making a spaceship for us to live in!’

  Georgia burst out laughing, and the two of them disappeared into the house.

  ‘All right,’ I said, wanting to get down to the medical centre ASAP. ‘Well, tell your mum –’

  ‘Thank you for saving Jeremy,’ Lauren said in a rush.

  ‘Huh?’ I said. ‘Oh, right. No problem.’

  ‘No, seriously,’ said Lauren. ‘Thanks. If you hadn’t come in, Tank would’ve …’

  ‘What were they attacking him for anyway?’ I asked.

  ‘It was so stupid!’ Lauren threw up her hands, like she’d been waiting for a chance to vent all of this. ‘Jeremy was just drawing on his schoolbag, and that other guy, Mike or whatever, saw what he was doing and just clicked it at him.’

  ‘What was it?’ I asked. ‘What was he drawing?’

  She pulled a face, as though this was a weird question for me to be asking. ‘It was nothing!’ she said. ‘Just this circle with – Hang on.’

  Lauren leant inside, reaching for the phone table, and came back with a notepad and pen. She flipped to a blank page and started scribbling something.

  ‘Here,’ she said, holding the notepad up in front of my face. ‘It was this.’

  She’d drawn a kind of spiral thing – a circle with a bunch of lines twisting out from the middle.

  ‘What is it?’ I asked.

  ‘How should I know?’ said Lauren. ‘I thought he just made it up, but obviously it meant something to Tank, because five seconds later he was smashing him onto the floor.’

  ‘Uh-huh,’ I said, but my attention had suddenly shifted away from the notepad, to the hand that was holding it. Between each of Lauren’s fingers was a thick smudge of slightly paler, freckle-less skin.

  She’d been holding hands with Jeremy.

  Lauren caught me looking at her and whipped her hand around behind her back. ‘Anyway, thanks again,’ she said hurriedly. ‘Mum said she’d drop Georgia back at –’