The Dead

‘Two billion three hundred and sixty-five million and two hundred thousand seconds …’ said Wiki quietly. ‘Roughly. In a lifetime. If you’re lucky …’

5

It took four of them to shift the wardrobe aside in the morning. Aware that they were moving it for the last time.

Once the door was clear Bam put his ear to it. He looked at Jack. Jack licked his lips, tense.

‘Well?’

Bam shook his head. ‘Can’t hear anything.’

‘Go on then.’

Bam grasped the handle, turned. It clicked and the door popped open a fraction. He checked that everyone was ready. A row of boys stood waiting. They’d pulled the metal bed frames apart to make weapons out of the struts and heavy springs, and they’d packed up whatever supplies and belongings they had left into backpacks or bundles made out of sheets.

‘Ready?’

The boys nodded. Bam took a deep breath and tugged the door open.

A pale, sickly light washing in from the small windows showed that the area outside was empty.

The teachers had gone.

One by one the boys filed out on to the landing, wary and alert. They were shivering. Their combined body heat had kept them reasonably warm in the dormitory, but it was early March and the air out here was noticeably colder.

‘Look at that.’ Joh

‘Looks like we only just made it out in time,’ said Bam. ‘One more night and they’d have been on us.’

It stank on the landing. There was evidence that at least one of the teachers had used the carpet for a toilet. There was torn wallpaper down the stairs and a fresh splash of blood up one wall. Maybe they’d been fighting among themselves.

‘Come on.’ Bam led the way down. Behind him came Joh

At the bottom of the stairs the carpet was black and sticky, as if a tub of treacle had been poured into it. The boys’ trainers stuck to the floor and squelched as they lifted their feet. It smelt worse down here, a foul brew of blood and dead flesh and unwashed bodies. Sweet and sour and putrid.

The main way in and out of the building was through two big double doors. The first thing Mr Hewitt had organized when they’d decided to secure the House was nailing the doors shut with planks of wood. They’d been using an alternative exit through the back of the kitchen as a way in and out, because it was quicker to open and close and easier to lock. They had keys for the back door as well as the kitchen door, so had an extra line of defence. It had turned out to be a complete waste of time, though, as the sick teachers soon found other ways to get into the House.

Bam put a hand over his mouth to block the stink.

‘This way,’ he said, leading the group down the corridor that led towards the kitchen.

It was dark in the corridor and they walked quickly. All the boys wanted to get outside as fast as possible. They soon arrived at the kitchen door, which had a small, reinforced-glass window set in the centre, crisscrossed with a wire mesh.

Bam strode up to it, as eager as the others to be out of here. He took a big bunch of keys from his pocket, selected the right one and slotted it into the lock. He was just about to turn it when Jack pulled him back.

‘Wait a minute.’

Bam stopped. A flash of irritation. Then a little laugh.

Jack sighed. ‘Come on, Bam, you could at least check it before you open it.’

‘Sorry, old mate, brain not in gear. Never did work at a hundred per cent, to tell you the truth, turned to mush now. Still asleep, I think.’ He knocked the side of his head with his fist. ‘Wakey, wakey!’

Jack stuck his nose to the little window and peered into the kitchen. It was dark; the sun rose on the other side of the building and its light hadn’t reached this far yet. He could see no movement in the gloom. Then he spotted that the back door was half open. Someone had definitely been in there during the night.

‘What do you reckon?’ Bam asked. ‘Is it safe?’

‘Hang on a minute. Can’t tell.’

Jack’s eyes were slowly growing used to the light. He was picking out more details in the kitchen. There was a scarlet smear of blood on the window over the sinks. And there, on the table, what looked like a slab of meat. He realized there was an arm still attached to it. He swallowed, trying not to retch.

‘I’m not sure we should go this way,’ he said.

‘Are there some of them in there?’ Bam asked, trying to see over Jack’s shoulder.

‘It’s hard to tell.’

‘Here, let me look.’ Bam shoved Jack aside and took his place at the window.

‘Not a pretty sight, is it? Don’t think there’s anyone in there, though … Whoa!’ He leapt back as a female teacher hurled herself at the door, squashing her face against the glass and smearing it with pus. It looked like Miss Warlock, from the English department, but it was hard to tell.

The shock made Bam burst out laughing and soon most of the other boys had joined in. Jack just stared at the door, which shook on its hinges as Miss Warlock repeatedly rammed herself against it with a whining and a slobbering noise.

Ed crept forward and risked looking in.

‘There’s more than one of them in there,’ he said. ‘We’ll have to go another way.’

‘You don’t say,’ Jack murmured.

‘And we need to be quick,’ said Ed, ignoring Jack. ‘They could break this door down if there’s enough of them. Or they might just figure out that there’s another way in – however they all got in last night.’

They backtracked down the corridor, increasingly nervous and anxious to be out of the building that was feeling more and more like a trap. When they got back to the hallway, they headed for the doors.

Jack saw what looked like a football sitting in the middle of the floor. He had an urge to race forward and kick it, an automatic response. He took several paces then came to a dead stop, almost overbalancing, like someone suddenly finding themselves at the edge of a cliff in a cartoon film.

It wasn’t a football. It was a human head. All that was left of Mr Hewitt. His eyes were open, and he looked calm and at peace. He no longer resembled the deranged maniac he’d been when Jack last saw him.

Now Bam spotted the head.

‘Bloody hell,’ he said with a laugh. ‘Better get rid of that. Bit freaky.’

He picked the head up gingerly by the hair then lobbed it across the room towards a waste bin that sat in a dark corner. Amazingly it landed cleanly inside. Bam cheered and punched the air.

‘Shot!’

Jack didn’t know whether to laugh or curl up in a ball and bang his forehead on the floor in despair. He stood there, drained of all energy, wishing he was a million miles away.