by C. L. Taylor
‘Please let this be the right way,’ I whisper as I inch my way forwards, hands outstretched. ‘Please let it –’
The toe of my boot catches on something and a piercing squeak fills the tunnel, echoing off the low ceiling. Rats! Oh my God!
Every bone in my body urges me to turn and run but, instead, I force myself to take another step forwards. I tense, anticipating another small body hitting my boot, or leaping off the wall onto my arm or my face. Nothing happens so I take another step. Then another.
‘Keep going, Drew. Keep going, keep going, keep going.’
After what feels like an age the tunnel ends and my right hand grasps at nothing. If I turn right here, I should end up in the central tunnel, directly beneath the entrance hall.
*
‘Mason!’ I call softly as I run through the tunnel towards the arched exit. Tiny streams of light, escaping through the gaps in the entrance hall floorboards, illuminate the small square room. ‘Mason, are you here?’
I glance at my watch: 9.41 p.m. Where is he? Did he get tired of waiting and escape without me? No, he wouldn’t do that. He would have waited.
‘Mase?’ I run towards the archway that leads towards the West Wing and pause in the entrance of the tunnel. ‘Mason?’
My voice echoes off the walls and bounces off the bricks. I stand very still, waiting for a reply or the sound of my brother’s trainers thudding towards me. But there’s nothing. Not a sound apart from my heart thudding in my ears. Sweat trickles down my back, sucking my T-shirt against my skin. Where is he?
I return to the centre of the room and wait, my eyes fixed on the glass face of my watch.
9.42 p.m.
9.43 p.m.
9.44 p.m.
The sound of footsteps makes me start and I look hopefully in the direction of the West Wing. But Mason doesn’t appear in the entrance of the tunnel. Instead, a low voice drifts down through the floorboards.
‘The pre-treatment head count is complete,’ Mrs H. says, as clear as day. ‘All thirty students in the West Wing are accounted for. Stuart just radioed to say that he’s calmed down the situation in East Wing but I don’t trust that idiot to do the head count. I’m going over there now.’
Chapter Twenty-Six
I stand completely still, one hand clasped over my mouth to silence my rasping breathing.
What do I do?
Escape or go back?
If I escape, I could try to raise the alarm but who would I tell? I can’t tell Tony or Mum. And the police didn’t believe me when I told them Dr Cobey was deliberately run over. If I went to the press, I’d be laughed at. I need Mason and Megan with me. A newspaper editor might class a single teenager as a time waster or attention seeker but if the three of us made a stink they’d have to listen to us. We could take Zed along too, and Charlie. They couldn’t ignore how different he is to Zed’s video.
I glance at the tunnel that leads to the outside and make a decision.
Go!
*
All thirty students in the west wing are accounted for. Mrs H.’s voice reverberates in my head as I speed back down the tunnel that leads to the East Wing, both arms outstretched. That means Mason is still his dorm. Either he didn’t make it down to the basement or he went back up when he couldn’t find me. And now Mrs H. is on her way to do a head count in the East Wing. I need to get back before she does, but I haven’t got the staff pass any more. If Mouse has already let herself into the dorm I’ll be stuck in the stairwell.
‘Mouse!’ I call as I burst out of the final tunnel and sprint across the room. The toe of my boot catches on something on the floor and I lurch to my left, my hands desperately reaching through the gloom as I try to grab something, anything to stop myself from falling. My fingertips graze something solid and, for a split second, I think I’m OK but then – CRASH! – the box of cutlery clangs to the floor. I fall too. My hands and wrists take the impact as I hit the hard cobblestones. I lie still, too shocked to move for a couple of seconds then I tentatively rotate one hand, then the other. I flex and contract my fingers. Nothing seems to be broken. Wincing, I force myself onto my knees and then onto my feet. My left knee twinges as I take a step but I force myself to keep walking. I need to get back to the dorm before Mouse and Mrs H.
I half run, half scrabble up the first set of stairs. ‘Mouse?’
But there’s no sign of my room-mate outside the door. Or at the bend in the staircase.
‘Mouse!’ I call, louder this time. ‘Mouse, wait! I’m coming.’
The heels of my hands are throbbing and a shooting pain rips through my knee with each step I take but I don’t stop running. I grab hold of the handrail and yank myself up, up, up the stairs. ‘Mouse! Wait!’
As I round the last bend, I look towards the top of the stairs, desperately hoping to catch sight of the heel of Mouse’s trainers or the hem of her black trousers but there’s nothing. I’ve missed her. She’s already gone through the door, back to the dorms. I keep low as I climb the remaining flight of stairs then drop to my hands and knees and crawl. When I reach the last step I lower my head and press the side of my face against the cool tile and take a couple of deep breaths. My heart is racing and my back and forehead are slick with sweat. What do I do now?
I raise my head, look through the glass door, spot a pair of white trainers, and lower my head again. That’s not a good sign. It means all the other kids have been ushered into their dorms and Stuart and Abi are doing bed checks. If I knock on the door to be let in how do I explain the fact I’m in the stairwell? I could lie and say the door was left open and I tried to get down to the rec room to get help for Israel, but the doors are never left open. They close automatically, a couple of seconds after someone walks through them. I’ll have to go back down to the basement and try to escape on my own. I never should have let Mouse come back up here on her own. I should have come back up here with her and –
I nearly jump out of my skin as a dark head appears around the corner of the staircase.
‘Mouse! What the –’
‘I heard …’ she takes a laboured breath ‘… the … crash … from the basement. I thought …’ another breath, sucking in air like a landed fish ‘… that it might be you.’
Her face is pale and sweaty and she’s breathing rapidly. She looks bloody awful.
The white trainers pass in front of the glass door again and I duck back down. When I look back up the trainers, and Mouse, have gone.
‘Mouse,’ I hiss. ‘Are you still there?’
‘Yes,’ says a disembodied voice.
‘OK, don’t talk any more than you need to. Have you still got the pass?’
She doesn’t reply but, a couple of seconds later, her hand appears, sliding the white staff pass along the tiles towards me.
‘OK.’ I snatch it up. ‘We’re probably going to have to move quite quickly if we’re going to get back in without being seen. Do you think you can do that?’
A strange rasping sound comes from around the corner. I think it’s Mouse laughing.
‘Great. OK. In a second, I’m going to get up and we’re both going to stand either side of the door. I’ll check to see if the coast is clear then we both go back in, as quickly as we can.’
Mouse, who must be sitting on the floor with her back to the slim section of wall between my staircase and the staircase to the staff quarters, gives me the thumbs-up.
‘Can you stand up OK?’ I ask.
Her hand reappears, the thumb-up again.
‘OK. On three. One … two … three …’
I skirt over to my left, out of sight of the door, scrabble to my feet and throw myself up the last couple of stairs and against the wall. I press my back to it and look to my left. Mouse is doing the same on the other side of door. Her lips are a weird blue colour and all the tendons in her neck are raised. What the hell was I thinking, letting her come back up here on her own? What if she’d collapsed on the stairs? She could have died. I push the thoug
ht out of my mind. I need to concentrate. This isn’t over yet. We could still beat Mrs H. back to the dorms and avoid any of the friends spotting us. I’ll just have to pray that whoever monitors the CCTV is checking their phone or has gone for a wee.
I take a tiny sidestep to my left so the fingers of my left hand are touching the doorframe.
Please, I pray as I grip the staff pass so tightly the edges of the plastic cut into my fingers. Please don’t let anyone see us.
I twist at the waist and look through the glass door. The boys’ floor is empty and all but one door – Israel’s – is shut.
‘Go!’ I whisper to Mouse. At the same time, I press the pass to the black box. The red lights flash once, twice … please don’t let anyone come out of the dorms, please don’t let anyone come out of … three times. I push at the door, reach for Mouse’s hand and yank her through it.
‘Up the stairs,’ I say, as I shove the pass between the waistband of my cargo trousers and my stomach.
Mouse stumbles forwards, her hand still in mine. She looks like she’s about to pass out. From down here the stairs look like Everest and our dorm, the peak. There’s no way we’re going to get in there before –
‘Girls!’
A thousand icy fingers stroke my spine and I freeze. I know that voice.
I let go of Mouse’s hand and turn slowly. Standing next to the glass door with her hands on her hips and her lips pressed tightly together, is Mrs H.
‘Come here!’ She beckons us with a crooked index finger.
Mouse gives me a stricken look. Don’t panic, I signal with my eyes but I’m totally faking being calm. I am so terrified I feel sick. As we step slowly towards Mrs H., my gaze automatically drops to the floor and I have to force myself to look back up again, into her frosty blue eyes.
‘What. Do. You. Think. You’re. Doing?’ The words come out sharp and clipped, each one a bullet that hits me in the chest. She saw us come in. She was standing at the bottom of the stairs. It’s etched into every hard line of her face.
‘We … we …’ As I scrabble for an explanation, I feel the staff pass slip from the waistband of my cargo pants and slide down my stomach. I press my thighs tightly together. Please God don’t let it drop down my trouser leg and onto the floor.
Mouse doesn’t breathe a word. Her chest is rising and falling rapidly. She looks as though she’s hyperventilating.
‘Mouse … Megan … she’s having an asthma attack,’ I stutter. ‘She’s not well.’
Mrs H. locks eyes with me and a single line of sweat dribbles down my lower back. Why isn’t she saying anything? If she’s going to send us to isolation or the treatment centre she should just say it, not make us suffer like this. Or maybe she likes the fact we’re suffering. Maybe she’s enjoying the fact that I’m a sweaty mess and Mouse is about to pass out. Or maybe she didn’t see us come in. Maybe we were already at the foot of the stairs when she came through the door. Everyone else is in their dorms, apart from us and she’s suspicious. That’s why she’s having this stand-off. We look guilty and she wants to know why.
I sneak a glance over my left shoulder, towards Israel’s open door, and an idea pops into my mind. I’m going to have to lie like I’ve never lied before but what have I got to lose? If Mrs H. saw us come in she’ll punish us, regardless of what I tell her.
I clear my throat. I need to keep it together. I need to convince myself that what I’m about to say is the truth or Mrs H. will see the lie written all over my face.
‘It came on during the fight,’ I say. ‘Megan couldn’t get up the stairs to get her Ventolin inhaler because there were so many kids down here. I took her into Israel’s dorm so she could sit down for a bit and catch her breath.’
Mrs H. gives me a long look and then arches an eyebrow. ‘Is that right?’
‘Look at her!’ I touch Mouse on the shoulder, making her flinch. ‘She’s really unwell, Mrs H. She needs to see the nurse.’
Mouse raises a hand to her mouth and mimes puffing on an inhaler.
‘Can I go up to the dorm and get it?’ I ask, taking a step towards the stairs. As I do, I press a hand to the top of my right thigh to stop the staff pass from slipping further down my leg.
‘Just, one second, Drew.’
I freeze. My forehead prickles with sweat as Mrs H. scans the empty room then looks up at the balcony.
‘Stuart! Could you come here for a second?’
Mouse stiffens. She looks absolutely terrified.
‘Ah, there you are,’ Mrs H. says as the two friends appear on the balcony of the first floor. They both look startled to see Mrs H. and exchange worried glances.
‘Stuart, Abi, is the bed check complete?’
‘Yes, Mrs H.’ Stuart makes a move towards the stairs but Mrs H. raises a hand, telling him to stay where he is.
‘Anyone missing?’
‘Just … er … those two. Israel has been taken to the sanatorium along with his room-mate, Jez, who was also caught up in the disturbance.’
‘I see.’ Mrs H. nods curtly. ‘And how long have these two been missing for?’
‘We just realized. I just checked their dorm and only Jude is in her bed.’
‘So neither of you spotted Drew and Megan in one of the boys’ bedrooms?’
‘I –’ I begin but Mrs H. shushes me. ‘I’m not talking to you, Drew. I’m talking to Stuart.’
‘Um.’ Stuart glances at Abi. She shrugs her shoulders. ‘No. Well, I didn’t.’
‘I didn’t see them down there either,’ Abi says.
‘I see.’ Mrs H. raises her eyebrows. The tiniest of smiles prick at the corner of her lips as she turns her attention to me. ‘So, if you weren’t in Israel’s room, Drew, where exactly have you been?’
Mouse makes a noise – half gulp, half snort. Oh my God, she’s crying.
‘It wasn’t … Drew’s fault,’ she says in a breathy voice. ‘It was –’
‘We were in the en suite.’ I grip her by the elbow and give it a short, sharp squeeze. ‘That’s why Stuart and Abi didn’t see us. We had the door shut. Mouse was sitting on the toilet. She didn’t want anyone to see her while she was feeling so unwell.’
The smile on Mrs H.’s face slips, just the tiniest bit. ‘Is that right?’ she says to the friends. ‘Was the door to the en suite closed in Israel’s room?’
They both shrug.
‘I really couldn’t tell you, Mrs H.,’ Stuart says. ‘I can’t remember. I passed the room as I was doing the check but, as both Israel and Jez are in the sanatorium, I didn’t give it more than a quick glance to check it was empty. If there was someone in the en suite with the door open, I would have spotted them so … so maybe it was closed.’
‘I see.’ Mrs H. looks from me to Mouse and back again. Please, I beg silently, please believe us.
‘Abi,’ Mrs H. says. ‘Would you mind going into Megan’s dorm and asking Jude where the inhaler is. Once you’ve found it bring it down here, please. Megan, would you like to sit down? You can perch on the stairs.’
Megan wipes the tears from her cheeks and nods dumbly. She catches my eye as she passes me on the way to the stairs but her eyes are still clouded with worry. I, on the other hand, feel utterly jubilant and it’s taking every ounce of my self-control to stand perfectly still with an expressionless face when all I really want to do is punch the air and scream with relief.
‘You can stay where you are, Drew,’ Mrs H. says as I turn to follow Mouse. ‘I’m going to speak to the CCTV operator now. I think it’s a conversation you need to hear. Don’t you?’
My heart drops to my stomach as she reaches for the radio, clipped to her belt.
Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no.
‘Mrs H. to Destiny. Destiny, are you receiving?’
The radio crackles to life. ‘Yes, Mrs H. I can hear you.’
‘Could you take a look at the CCTV footage for the East Wing, please?’ She glances at her watch. ‘I’d like you to track the movements of Drew Finch a
nd Megan Jones between twenty-one hours and twenty-two hours, please. Let me know if you see anything unusual.’
The radio crackles again. ‘Megan Jones and Drew Finch. East Wing. Twenty-one hours and twenty-two hours?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Shall I radio you back in a bit?’
‘No, fast-forward through the footage. I’ll wait while you look.’
Her hand, clutching the radio, falls to her side as she gives me a wide smile. She’s showing her teeth. Like a shark.
‘Are you OK, Drew?’ she says, smirking. ‘You look a little pale.’
My throat is so dry I have to swallow twice to find my voice. ‘I’m just worried about Mouse … Megan … that’s all.’
‘What a good friend you are. Didn’t I tell you you’d find friends for life at Norton House?’
‘Yes, you did.’ I clench the fist of my right hand against the fabric of my cargo pants. The hard edges of the staff pass press into my fingertips. Mrs H. is standing between me and the door. If I charge at her, right now, I’d have the element of surprise on my side. I’d be able to knock her to the floor and get out of the door before she had time to recover. But do I get the staff pass out of my trousers now, or after I’ve pushed her over? If I take it out now she’ll be on her guard. I tighten my grip on the card. I’ll have to shoulder barge her and then grab the card. Stuart won’t be able to get down the stairs quickly enough to –
The radio crackles to life. ‘Destiny to Mrs H. Are you receiving?’
My housemistress takes a step backwards, then another. Now she’s only inches from the door. She’s trying to block my escape route. She can see the fear in my eyes.
She raises the radio to just beneath her chin. ‘Yes, Destiny, I can hear you.’
‘I’m … um … I can’t, um … I can’t seem to access the footage between those times.’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘There’s footage of the West Wing between twenty-one hours and twenty-two hours but the footage of the East Wing cuts off at twenty-one nineteen.’
Mrs H. angles herself away from me. ‘Could you repeat that, please?’
