Oksa Pollock: The Last Hope

by Anne Plichota

  That was when she had a sudden flash of memory: in her mind’s eye she saw the image of Malorane trapped in the Glass Column by Ocious and his henchmen, just as she’d seen it on Dragomira’s Camereye. Obviously, the “Excelsior” effect… doing the splits more than three feet above the floor, the Young Gracious immediately began spinning at a dizzying speed, turning herself into a weapon. She soon felt her foot connect with something, so she stopped spinning and hung there in the air to see the result: McGraw had been kicked to the back of the classroom by Oksa-san, the fearsome human spinning top. With his head lolling to one side and his eyes closed, he looked unconscious.

  But this was only a brief respite. The invincible teacher suddenly opened his eyes and immediately brought his Granok-Shooter to his lips. In a fraction of a second the tiny granule had been shot at her as fast as an arrow. Oksa couldn’t avoid the Granok and when she saw the state of her knee, she opened her eyes wide in horror as she realized what had just hit her: a PUTREFACTIO. She was going to rot away to nothing! Struck down by the intense pain, she dropped to the floor and crawled behind an overturned set of shelves for shelter, as McGraw gave a sardonic laugh. The lab was now lit only by the dying flames of the burning coat stand, the light from the corridor and one surviving fluorescent tube, which was feebly flickering on and off. The chemicals spreading across the room were giving off acidic, suffocating fumes and strange, dark thoughts filled Oksa’s head. Would she ever see her mother again? What would Gus do? What about her father? Why hadn’t they got here yet? Had Mortimer somehow stopped them? Was she going to die? Yes, she was bound to die here in this ruined lab, far from everyone she loved… in a few minutes it would all be over and she’d be nothing but a disgusting heap of decayed flesh. At that thought, despite the awful pain, she mustered all her courage, struggled to her feet and aimed at McGraw:

  “ARBORESCENS!” she yelled.

  And what she saw gave her every reason to hope she might come out of this hellish experience alive: thick, viscous, yellow creepers began vigorously twining about McGraw with a nauseating sucking noise, depriving him of the use of his hands and legs.

  “I’ll get the better of you! You wai—” he just had time to bellow before the creepers reached his mouth and silenced him.

  Wait? No way! Oksa clambered onto a desk which had ended up against the wall in the violence of the struggle. She struggled through one of the smashed windows and let herself slip down into the corridor.

  “OKSA!”

  Gus was just coming round the corner of the corridor in which the lab was located when he saw his friend, covered in blood, her clothes blackened and torn. Through the tear in her trousers he saw her injured knee, which looked a funny greenish colour. Behind her there was glass all over the floor and smoke was escaping from the classroom. Gus rushed over to help her up. They had barely got to the end of the second corridor when they heard a commotion and a yell which made their blood run cold:

  “OKSA! OKSA!”

  “He’s broken free, quick, we’ve got to get out of here!” screamed Oksa, terror-stricken.

  They began running as fast as they could, but Oksa’s pitiful condition slowed them down and they were soon caught by McGraw, brandishing his Granok-Shooter.

  “What’s going on here?”

  “MISS HEARTBREAK!”

  The history and geography teacher had just appeared round the corner of the corridor, her eyes popping out of her head.

  “Dr McGraw? What are you doing?” asked the young woman in disbelief.

  “Mind your own business and shut up!” he spat, foaming with anger.

  Making a superhuman effort, Oksa instinctively attempted to stop McGraw one last time, attacking him with a Knock-Bong which sent him flying to the other end of the corridor.

  “Run, Miss Heartbreak!” shouted Gus, with a beseeching look.

  Miss Heartbreak gave a cry of fear and bewilderment.

  Despite the danger, the poor woman was glued to the spot with astonishment. But Gus had another priority: he grabbed Oksa under the arms and dragged her towards the exit.

  64

  A SERIES OF SET-UPS

  PIERRE BELLANGER’S CAR SKIDDED TO A HALT IN FRONT of the school gates just as the two friends emerged from the building, but the heavy front gate was locked and there was no way out.

  “Oksa, you’re going to have to make one last effort—we’ll have to climb over the wall, we’re trapped!” stuttered Gus.

  The main thing Oksa had to do was try and ignore the dreadful pain and unbelievable terror caused by her injury so that she could concentrate on Vertiflying—she had to succeed at all costs.

  “Gus, stand in front of me and hold me tightly.”

  Gus obeyed and clung to Oksa, putting his arms around her waist. They immediately took off, rising first by a couple of inches, then climbing unsteadily to the top of the wall, which was almost ten feet high. On the other side, Pierre had magically turned off the street lights—a very timely power cut—which meant that the two youngsters could escape under cover of darkness. It would be awkward to say the least if anyone were to see them, and this really wasn’t the time to be disturbed by busybodies.

  “Well done you,” Gus said to Oksa, who was precariously balanced against him on top of the wall. “Just one last push, hang in there!”

  Clinging to each other, the two friends came down as unsteadily as they’d gone up. When they landed on the ground, Oksa felt completely drained of strength and would have collapsed on the pavement if Gus hadn’t been holding her up. Pierre rushed over, took the injured girl in his arms and laid her on the car’s back seat.

  “Lie still, Oksa, there’s nothing to be afraid of, you’re safe now.”

  Gus sat down in the front, next to his father, who immediately started the car.

  “Look, over there! It’s Mr Bontempi!”

  “We can’t warn him, Gus, we have to get away from here. Oksa needs treatment fast.”

  In the back of the car, the injured girl gritted her teeth to stop herself screaming. She was in terrible pain. An unbearable, terrifying pain that was spreading relentlessly through her body and mind like poison. She ventured a glance at her knee and groaned: the skin was puffy and had turned an awful brown colour. It also smelt disgusting—the stench of decaying flesh, combined with the reek of blood and clothes impregnated with chemical fumes. The Curbita-Flatulo redoubled its efforts, undulating constantly to calm down its panic-stricken mistress.

  “Hang on, Oksa, we’re there!”

  Cradling her in his arms, Pierre dashed up the front steps to the Pollocks’ house. Gus, white as a sheet, hammered on the door.

  “Children!” cried Dragomira, seeing the dreadful state of her granddaughter. “Good Lord! What happened?”

  “Dragomira, go and get some Dermi-Cleaners quickly, I think Oksa has been hit by a Putrefactio,” interrupted Pierre.

  While Dragomira rushed upstairs, he laid Oksa on one of the living-room sofas with Pavel’s help.

  “This is all my fault,” muttered the latter, his face contorted in anguish. “I’ll never forgive myself…”

  “Stop it, Pavel!” said Pierre.

  “Please, Pavel,” broke in Dragomira, coming back into the sitting room, holding a small phial. “This is neither the time nor the place!”

  Then, turning to Oksa:

  “Oksa, I’m going to put this on your knee…”

  Baba Pollock’s forehead was creased with worry and she was trembling as she uncorked the bottle. She poured a large blob of an orange substance onto her fingertips and carefully massaged it into Oksa’s knee.

  “It’s burning, Baba!” groaned the injured girl, writhing with pain.

  Her mother took her hand and squeezed it tightly.

  “Gus, would you stay with Oksa?” asked Dragomira, covering the bad knee with the viscous substance, which looked a little as if it was crawling. “I’ll be back soon.”

  The three Pollocks and Pierre Bellanger went out i
nto the hall. But although they were talking in hushed voices, Oksa could hear every single detail. The Volumiplus power was incredible…

  “Marie, I must tell you that this is the first time since the Great Chaos that we’ve come across a Putrefactio,” murmured Dragomira. “We’ve never had to treat it. The Dermi-Cleaners are excellent at healing wounds and infections, even gangrene. This therapy is starting to be used on the Outside with maggots—you may already have heard of it—but when it comes to Putrefactios, there are no precedents. I can’t promise that the Dermi-Cleaners will be able to cure Oksa.”

  “I understand,” replied Marie, trembling. “And I know that you’ll do everything in your power.”

  Gathered around Oksa again, they all anxiously watched the progress of the injury to her knee.

  “You put worms on me, Baba,” said Oksa in a weak voice with an undertone of reproach.

  “Yes, Dushka. The Dermi-Cleaners can work miracles with this kind of wound,” said Dragomira comfortingly, even though she wasn’t sure how effective they would be for such a serious injury. “The worms eat away diseased flesh and regenerate it. Your knee will soon be good as new.”

  Oksa couldn’t help grimacing with pain and disgust at the sight of the hundred or so worms, which could be seen very clearly now and which were lethargically wriggling about on the suppurating skin.

  “Do you feel strong enough to tell us what happened?”

  Pavel, his eyes wild with worry, had just tensely asked the question on everyone’s lips. Oksa took a deep breath and gave them a detailed account of everything that had happened since McGraw had ordered her to help him tidy up the lab. As soon as she’d finished, it was Gus’s turn.

  “When Merlin gave me the note and I saw that Oksa’s phone was out of battery, I ran to the exit to find you, Pavel,” he said, looking at Oksa’s father. “But you weren’t there. Then I tried to phone but there was no answer, either at the house or on your mobile.”

  “We received a call from the hospital in the early afternoon—Marie’s doctor wanted to see us urgently,” explained Pavel, looking crushed. “When we got there, we had to turn off our mobiles. We waited two hours before being told that none of the doctors had called us! We thought it was a mistake. But now, it’s obvious the call was a set-up, intended as a diversion. There was still enough time for me to come and meet you from school. But when we went back to the car, it wouldn’t start. We caught a taxi to go home. The taxi rank was nearby, but the traffic was terrible and it took ages to get back. I didn’t think to turn on my mobile until quite late and I tried to call you, Oksa, to tell you to wait for me. But the call went straight through to voicemail. I called Gus, who told me everything, and then I called Pierre, who came to get you as fast as he could. I’m so angry with myself; I was careless.”

  “Don’t blame yourself,” said Pierre. “This was just an unfortunate set of coincidences.”

  “More like a series of set-ups!” retorted Dragomira. “What happened after that, Gus?”

  “I wanted to stay as close as I could to Oksa, but there was no way of getting back into the school; the porter had gone, locking the porch gate behind him. I called you at home again, but no one was there and now I understand why. I got your call, Pavel, and I phoned the restaurant to tell you to get here as fast as possible, Dad. You already knew, because Pavel had just called you. I stayed outside the front of the school—I was worried to death. Suddenly I saw Miss Heartbreak arriving, so I slipped inside behind her when she opened the porch gate and I dashed upstairs. You’d just got out of the lab, Oksa, and then suddenly McGraw appeared, shouting. That’s what brought Miss Heartbreak running. I’m so sorry, Oksa, I should never have left you alone and I knew it! I’m such a waste of space…”

  “Gus, what happened isn’t your fault!” exclaimed Marie. “You did exactly the right thing by warning us. And if you’d stayed, McGraw wouldn’t have taken much notice of you. You have to know that all you are to him is a potential bargaining counter.”

  “I know,” replied Gus, hanging his head.

  “All the same, without you I’d never have been able to get away, I could barely stand. It’s because of you that I escaped McGraw’s clutches. You saved my life!” exclaimed Oksa.

  Gus blushed with embarrassment.

  “What worries me is Miss Heartbreak,” he added. “She saw everything and we left her alone with McGraw. He can’t allow her to spill the beans. Either he disappears off the scene or she does, don’t you think?”

  “I’m very much afraid so,” agreed Pierre gravely.

  “You saw Mr Bontempi arriving just as you were leaving, didn’t you? Do you think he saw you?” asked Dragomira.

  “No, it was too dark. Fortunately for us all…”

  65

  WRONG PLACE, WRONG TIME

  IT HAD ACTUALLY BEEN TOO DARK FOR MR BONTEMPI TO see anything when he arrived at the school car park that Thursday evening. A power cut had apparently knocked out the street lighting and he parked next to Miss Heartbreak’s car in the light from his headlamps, all the while noticing a third vehicle. “Well, well! Dr McGraw is still here,” he thought, noticing the teacher’s car. He slammed his car door, annoyed he’d been made so late by that stupid phone call telling him that there’d been a burglary at his home. He’d had to drive all the way to the other side of the city to find out that someone had been playing a hoax. His apartment hadn’t been burgled at all. That was certainly good news, but what a waste of time! And just when he’d thought he was going to spend a long, romantic evening with Benedicta Heartbreak… From the courtyard, he noticed there were still lights on in the first-floor corridor. So, before heading for his office to wait for the history and geography teacher, he decided to go upstairs and switch off the lights.

  “Good heavens! What on earth has been going on here?”

  The lab was in the same state of destruction as when Oksa had left it. Mr Bontempi walked carefully over the thick layer of broken glass on the floor with his hand over his nose and mouth to filter out the acrid stench which grew stronger as he approached the gaping door of the lab. The furniture and equipment had been overturned and were dripping with water. It looked like a raging tornado had left behind a trail of devastation. Mr Bontempi turned off the light and, perplexed, made for his office. On the landing of the main staircase, he almost tripped over a handbag that looked familiar. The Headmaster rummaged around inside and recognized the small purse and a tube of lipstick—it was definitely Miss Heartbreak’s bag.

  “Benedicta? Are you there?”

  The office was empty, and so were the staffroom and school corridors. After exhausting all possibilities, Mr Bontempi flopped down in his armchair and phoned the young woman’s home. The phone rang, but no one picked up. He tried her mobile, but heard the ringtone coming from the handbag on the table. “What would her car be doing in the car park if she weren’t here? And why was her handbag in the corridor? I hope nothing has happened to her,” he thought, picturing the ransacked lab in his mind’s eye.

  He went to stand in the middle of the courtyard and, cupping his hands round his mouth, he yelled:

  “BE-NE-DIC-TA! Where are you?”

  But a deafening silence reigned in the building, interrupted only by the echo of his anxious shouts.

  “Hello? Police please. This is the Headmaster of St Proximus College. I want to report an act of vandalism—and a missing person.”

  Benedicta Heartbreak couldn’t hear him, although she wasn’t far away—just a few yards. When she’d arrived in the courtyard a little before 6 p.m., her attention had been drawn by the first-floor lights and the sound of shouting. She’d hastily gone upstairs and what she’d seen in the corridor wouldn’t have been out of place in one of the nail-biting thrillers she loved: two of her best Year 8 students, Oksa Pollock and Gustave Bellanger, were being pursued by Dr McGraw, who was soaked from head to foot and covered in pieces of thick yellow string! Her strange colleague was yelling threats and young Oks
a was in a terrible state, covered in blood with her uniform ripped and a nasty wound on her leg. Gus, looking as terrified as she was, was holding her up and helping her escape.

  “Run, Miss Heartbreak!” he’d shouted.

  At that moment, Oksa had stretched out her hand and McGraw had been thrown some sixty feet backwards, as if he’d just been punched hard by some monstrous force. The teacher had hit the wall with a dull thud and had fallen heavily to the ground, unconscious. Without thinking, Benedicta Heartbreak had gone over to him to help. She’d wanted to question the two children, but they’d already disappeared. She was alone. When she’d got close to McGraw, he’d suddenly opened his eyes and had grabbed her wrists. She’d given a piercing scream and, seeing McGraw’s nasty smile, her mounting panic had turned to real terror.

  “Dr McGraw, what did you do to Oksa Pollock?”

  “Oh, Benedicta, Benedicta,” sighed McGraw wearily, tightening his hold on her. “Charming Benedicta Heartbreak, everybody’s darling, you’ve just ruined everything… Oksa is my key, my way in! The one I’ve waited fifty-seven years for.”

  “Fifty-seven years? What nonsense is this? You’re insane! Have you been drinking?”

  McGraw had sighed again, looking at the young woman witheringly.

  “How could you possibly understand?”

  “All I understand is that you’ve attacked a student from this school and that’s inexcusable, whatever your reasons. That’s not the way to sort things out.”

  McGraw had sniggered as Benedicta Heartbreak struggled to break free. When he’d let go of one her hands, she had a brief hope of freeing herself—a hope which had quickly turned to crushing defeat when McGraw had aimed his Granok-Shooter straight at her and had blown into it… Kind Benedicta Heartbreak had crumpled slowly onto the stone floor. Putting his hands under her arms, her assailant had dragged her somewhere dusty and entirely disused. There, he’d propped the poor woman against a stone pedestal and had carefully closed the creaking door behind him, not forgetting to put back the plank barring the entrance. Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he’d left the school via the narrow service corridor and had got as far as the car park.