Oksa Pollock: The Last Hope

by Anne Plichota

  “Leomido!” he yelled. “Give me Oksa. You owe me that much. I’ve dedicated my whole life to this moment, that child is my key!”

  “You’re mad, Orthon!” replied Leomido.

  “You’re a fine one to talk about madness. You’re living a life of mediocrity. Join me! I’ve discovered a world here on the Outside which is worthy of my ambitions, a world in which I’ve been planning my return at the head of an army. This is the start of a new era, an era of power and light. Don’t stand against me, Leomido. My powers are immense and your only choice is to co-operate with me if you want to live!”

  “What is he saying? What does he mean? How does he know you?” screamed Oksa in terror, clutching at Leomido, who immediately pulled away to concentrate on the controls.

  She huddled at the bottom of the basket and darted a panicked look at Gus, who came to crouch down beside her. “We’re done for!” she was screaming inside her head.

  “See? I was right! McGraw was looking for me, he’s not a teacher, he’s here to abduct me! I was right, oh Gus—”

  “Orthon!” shouted Leomido over the rim of the basket. “Give up! Oksa will never come with you. NEVER. Do you hear me? Go back to where you came from!”

  “What about all your promises? I’m here to make sure you keep them. Give me Oksa!” replied Orthon-McGraw.

  Oksa was baffled and panic-stricken by what she was hearing. Her whole body was shaking in despair. She cowered back in a corner of the basket, with Gus next to her.

  “What’s all this about? Why is Leomido calling him Orthon? I don’t understand—I’m scared stiff.”

  “Oksa, did you bring your Granok-Shooter?” asked Gus hurriedly.

  Oksa nodded.

  “I think it’s time to show what you’re made of. C’mon! It’s up to you now,” he encouraged her forcefully.

  “You’re right!” she said, getting a grip on herself.

  She took out the slender tube, which she kept in the inside pocket of her jacket, and sat up a little straighter. Raising her head just above the rim of the basket, she saw McGraw a few yards away with something glinting in the sun aimed at the balloon envelope. Was it a weapon? A gun? She tried to concentrate, but everything had been driven from her mind by the terror, making rational thought impossible.

  “Oksa!” Gus shook her. “Quick! You’ve got to do something!”

  But Oksa’s mind was a complete blank. No matter how hard she thought, she couldn’t remember the slightest thing that Dragomira had told her a few hours ago. On the verge of tears, she looked at Gus in panic.

  “I can’t remember anything, Gus, I’ve forgotten it all!”

  Gus leant over and whispered a few words in her ear. Just in time. With her heart brimful of rage and fear, deeply grateful for Dragomira’s incredible intuition and Gus’s amazing ability to keep a cool head, she spoke the name—which she’d just recalled thanks to her friend’s prompting:

  “Tornaphyllon!”

  Then, aiming directly at McGraw, she blew into the Granok-Shooter. As soon as the Granok was expelled, the Gargantuhen began spinning madly and was swept away by a whirlwind which had suddenly formed and carried off everything in its path.

  “Oksa, you did it! You’re amazing!” cried Gus exultantly. “Oh! What’s that?”

  A worrying black patch was coming closer. Like a thick, shifting cloud of starlings, the patch suddenly surged towards them.

  “Watch out, children!” yelled Leomido. “Death’s Head Chiropterans! Get down and cover your heads. Don’t let them bite you at any cost!”

  Gus and Oksa just had time to see a hideous swarm of mutant insects heading for their balloon. They crouched down while Leomido defended them by throwing large fireballs. In the basket, the two friends could hear the sickening crackle of the insects being burnt by the flames—but also the terrifying buzzing of the survivors, which were still managing to attack them against all odds. Copying Leomido, Oksa concentrated and threw a few fireballs which hit their target. Immediately the charred bodies of these repulsive Death’s Head Chiropterans, the largest specimens being almost three inches long, plummeted to the ground. One, tougher or more stubborn than its counterparts, managed to get through the barrier of fire created by Leomido and Oksa and raced ferociously towards Gus. Its wings began smoking, there was the stench of burning flesh and the hideous insect gave a bloodcurdling scream of agony.

  “How can it still be alive?” hissed Gus. “It’s on fire! It’s burning right before our eyes!”

  At the sight of its gaping mouth, which showed a glimpse of razor-sharp fangs, the boy panicked. Before he had time to react, he felt a sharp pain near his ear: the foul creature had bitten him. He crushed it with a violent slap of the hand, as a greenish, viscous substance trickled down his cheek. He grimaced, wiping his face nervously and picked up the insect with his fingertips to examine it more closely. When he saw its horrible little head, he realized immediately where it had got its name and, feeling sick, threw it overboard. On the other side, the poor Gargantuhen was losing speed and height as it was buffeted by the tornado. It was uttering heart-rending cries and struggling to throw off its rider. Suddenly, it unseated him with a mighty blow from its wing. Stunned, McGraw lost his balance as the Gargantuhen fell towards the sea and they both unceremoniously crashed into the water. Meanwhile, tensely clutching the controls, Leomido guided the red and yellow balloon inland as McGraw’s loud threats rang out over the moor.

  43

  A BLEAK REPORT

  “ALARM! ALARM! AN ACCIDENT HAS BEFALLEN THE friend of our Young Gracious! He has plunged into unconsciousness and a bad injury has stained his face with blood! Alarm!”

  Leomido’s Lunatrix was wailing and wringing his hands. Standing opposite him, the Lunatrixa turned so white that she looked almost translucent. Then she started reeling from the shock. Tottering dangerously from one foot to another, she stammered:

  “He… he has undertaken a fall from the balloon?”

  “No, my Lunatrixa,” replied her companion gravely. “The wound has been attributed by a monstrous danger… a Death’s Head Chiropteran.”

  “A Death’s Head Chiropteran? But the Chiropterans come from Edefia! The Felons—”

  The Lunatrixa didn’t have time to finish her sentence: overwhelmed by anxiety, she collapsed on the floor. The Lunatrix rushed over to her and without further ado blew on her chubby face until she came to her senses. At that moment, the heavy front door swung open on its hinges with a hideous squeal. Leomido’s tall figure appeared on the doorstep, to the relief of the panic-stricken little creatures. Unfortunately, as the Lunatrix had announced, this was a grim homecoming: Leomido was cradling the unconscious Gus, who had an ugly mark like a snakebite on the side of his face. All around it the swollen skin had turned the disturbing colour of rotten fruit, which extended down the left side of the boy’s face. Oksa, feeling nauseated at the strong stench from the wound, couldn’t take her eyes off her friend and was struggling to combat feelings of panic.

  When Leomido laid the injured boy on one of the sofas in the large living room, Gus’s eyes half opened to reveal white, milky eyeballs that looked lifeless and had rolled back in his head. For a minute, Oksa thought the worst had happened—Gus would never get better. She groaned and her nostrils pricked violently as her entire body felt as if it was filling up with bitter tears. But after a few seconds, which seemed to last for hours, Gus’s dark-blue eyes began to regain their normal appearance. For a few seconds more there was no expression in his eyes, as if his brain had stopped functioning. Then a gleam appeared in their depths: he was coming round.

  “My Lunatrix, run and get Dragomira,” ordered Leomido. “Don’t worry, Oksa,” he added, turning to his great-niece. “Dragomira will know what to do, Gus will be okay.”

  It was close on midnight when the last Runaways finally filed into the living room. Arriving shortly after Mercedica, the proud Spanish woman who was a member of Baba’s Band, Naftali and Brune Knut, Tugdua
l’s eccentric grandparents, removed their heavy overcoats and greeted their friends.

  “You’re all here,” murmured Naftali. “Good evening, Young Gracious,” he added, staring at Oksa.

  Oksa hadn’t met the Knuts before and she was amazed by their imposing appearance. She’d never seen such an astonishing couple. Naftali was unusually tall and bald, and the lower part of his face was covered with a fine, almost translucent down. His black velvet clothes were adorned by a single ornament: a necklace of tiny gleaming green pearls, which set off his enigmatic emerald-green eyes. Staring at Oksa, he put his hand on his wife’s arm and she bowed slightly, saying in a guttural voice:

  “Delighted to make your acquaintance, Young Gracious.”

  Brune Knut was just as striking as her husband. She looked around seventy, perhaps even eighty. Wearing trousers under an asymmetrical dress, she cut an eccentric figure. Her snow-white bobbed hair showed an ear pierced along the rim with at least ten small diamonds. The top of her upper lip was also adorned with a little stone which glinted when she bowed to Oksa.

  “Good evening,” said the girl, awed at being treated with so much respect by such an elegant woman.

  She sat on the carpet, her arms clasped round her knees, and tried to hide her embarrassment. Around her, despite the warmth of that splendid room, the mood was serious and expressions grave. Clustered in a semicircle in front of the huge hearth, they exchanged remarks in low voices, glancing at her in concern. She felt the weight of their gaze upon her but her angry thoughts were erecting a barrier between them and her. Instinctively, she looked up at the ceiling with its stucco tracery. Gus’s room was just above them. He was feeling better thanks to Dragomira’s salves and concoctions, each more mysterious than the last. But he’d had a terrible shock and he needed to rest. Anyway he’d soon fallen into a deep sleep. Oksa had watched over him for a while, worried and upset by her friend’s drawn features and his deathly pallor. The image haunted her. She shivered and looked around for her parents, who had arrived only two hours after the terrifying accident, together with Pierre and Jeanne Bellanger. She couldn’t understand what Gus’s parents were doing here—particularly in these somewhat unusual circumstances. Apart from Gus, no Bellanger had any reason to be at a meeting for Runaways, and yet no one seemed surprised. Oksa had dragged Dragomira to one side in an attempt to question her briefly, but Baba Pollock had merely waved her hand vaguely in what was supposed to be a reassuring manner: she had to be patient, she’d have answers soon enough.

  Dragomira sat down stiffly, her voluminous plum-coloured dress flaring out around her, and began nervously fraying the silk fringes of the armrest with her fingers until she’d reduced them to fine threads. Then she cleared her throat to attract the attention of everyone there.

  “My friends,” she said finally, sounding tense. “For over fifty years we’ve feared it might be so, but today, alas, we had it confirmed: at least one of the Felons managed to pass through the Portal. The son of Edefia’s worst enemy is on the Outside and has succeeded in getting very close to the heart of our hope,” she added, looking at Oksa.

  A wave of panic swept through the entire room. The Lunatrixes uttered a shrill cry, echoed by Jeanne and Marie.

  “What happened exactly? Tell us, Leomido!” said Pavel, his voice shaking.

  Beaded with perspiration, Leomido closed his eyes for a brief moment, then reopened them.

  “He first attacked in the early afternoon,” he said in a hollow voice. “One of my Gargantuhens suffered the consequences. But that was nothing compared to what we had to face two hours later…”

  Leomido fell silent and swallowed with difficulty.

  “He attacked again?” prompted Naftali.

  “Yes,” continued the elderly man. “With a strength that staggered me. I really thought we weren’t going to be able to outmatch him. Fortunately, Oksa and Gus were very brave,” he added. “Otherwise he would have got his hands on Oksa. She reacted quickly by firing a Tornaphyllon Granok at him, but he retaliated by sending a swarm of Death’s Head Chiropterans against us.”

  A shudder of concern ran through the Runaways.

  “How terrible! You were lucky to escape!” said Jeanne Bellanger in alarm, appearing to know what they were talking about, much to Oksa’s puzzlement.

  “Yes,” agreed Leomido. “As you know, Gus was injured, but the bite is superficial. Dragomira has done what was necessary and he’s out of danger.”

  “What about after-effects?” asked Naftali hastily, looking concerned. “Chiropterans are extremely—”

  “Let’s not complicate matters for no reason,” said Leomido curtly, cutting her off.

  “How were you able to escape the swarm of Death’s Heads?” continued Mercedica, staring at Leomido.

  “We threw Fireballisticos at them and burned those horrors to a cinder. But it’s Oksa who should take all the credit for our escape. Thanks to her, the Gargantuhen was carried off in the direction of the sea.”

  “And thanks to Gus,” murmured Oksa.

  “You’re right!” agreed Leomido. “They were both remarkably cool-headed. For my part, I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw we were being attacked in the sky. It was stupefying. It had obviously been carefully planned. And what looked at first like a mistaken target during the attack on my Gargantuhen was actually intended to draw me into the sky. He always found me so predictable.”

  “It was really him then? You’re sure?” butted in Naftali.

  “Yes, there’s no doubt about it, it was Orthon, Ocious’s son.”

  “No, it was McGraw, our maths teacher!” said Oksa loudly, interrupting him.

  All eyes were suddenly on her. Pavel gave a shout of rage. White as a sheet, Marie caught hold of his arm, her eyes open wide. Jeanne and Pierre looked at each other in amazement.

  “Your maths teacher?” stammered Dragomira, sounding at a loss.

  “Well…” replied Oksa hesitantly. “He’s not a real teacher.”

  Everyone stared at her.

  “Oops,” said Oksa, with the unpleasant sensation of having said too much. “Sorry.”

  “What do you mean?” insisted her father in a broken voice.

  Oksa hesitated for a second. Then, encouraged by her father, she explained almost inaudibly:

  “Until today, Gus and I thought that McGraw had been sent by the secret services and that he wanted to abduct me to experiment on my brain.”

  “WHAT?”

  Everyone in the living room had shouted in unison, including the Lunatrixes, who were wringing their hands in the corner. Oksa looked down, embarrassed at being the focus of attention, as well as the subject of conversation and the cause of all these problems.

  “Wait!” said Marie, sounding frightened. “You mean that since you started school, you’ve both thought that your maths teacher was some kind of mercenary, who was planning to kidnap you?”

  “What made you think that?” asked Abakum, his resonant voice calm.

  Oksa glanced at Dragomira in desperation.

  “We investigated him.”

  “What on earth do you mean?” grumbled Pavel, frowning.

  “Everyone hates and fears him,” continued Oksa. “We always thought there was something fishy about him, and not just because he’s an awful teacher, whatever you may think. It was because, right from the start, it was as if he knew everything about me, as if he’d always known who I was! A few days ago, we managed to get hold of his administrative file.”

  “I’d rather not know how,” muttered Pavel.

  “There were notes to the effect that he worked for the CIA and NASA. He specialized in photoelectricity and is fascinated by Einstein’s work on light.”

  “Oh come on,” grumbled Abakum.

  “Straightaway, we thought it was unlikely that someone would leave NASA to come and teach maths to high-school students,” continued Oksa, with a brief glance at her father. “Then we discovered that he’d applied to St Proximus College for
personal reasons—and his personal reasons were ME! That’s why we thought he was a secret agent who was looking for me; but we never thought he might be a Felon!”

  It would have been an understatement to say that the Runaways were rooted to the spot with amazement. They were all paralysed by Oksa’s and Leomido’s revelations. Breathing hard, their eyes anxious, the Runaways were all trying to take in this incredible information. As for Oksa, her mind was working overtime and everything was falling into place. Her slate-grey eyes widened as all the pieces fitted together perfectly.

  “Oh dear,” she exclaimed suddenly. “I don’t believe it!”

  44

  WORRYING REACTIONS

  IF HER OWN CONCLUSIONS WERE ANYTHING TO GO BY, Oksa had the awful feeling that they were getting mixed up in something much more dangerous than they might have thought.

  “Are you going to tell us what you’re thinking?” asked Pavel tensely.

  Oksa looked at him mechanically, her face expressionless. She shook her head to pull herself together and blinked.

  “At St Proximus, there was a maths teacher called Williams,” she began hoarsely. “Just before we started school, he was found dead in the Thames—murdered. This appears to have been a horrible murder, and one shrouded in mystery, as our friend Merlin Poicassé told us.”

  “My goodness!” exclaimed Dragomira. “And… does anyone know how the man died?”

  This was clearly the question on everyone’s lips—a crucial question with a frightening answer.

  “Er, no,” muttered Oksa. “But I have a few thoughts on the matter.”

  With that, she jumped to her feet and rushed into Leomido’s office, which was adjoining the large living room. She turned on her great-uncle’s computer and, a few seconds later, was on the net. All the Runaways had gathered around her, their eyes fixed on the screen, which they could only partly see. A page from a newspaper, taken from the Times archive, flashed up. Oksa moved closer to the screen and scanned the article at top speed. Never had she read so quickly. When she had finished she gave a low whistle, her hands tense on the computer keyboard.