Blood Water (13 page)

Sean recognized the laboratory as the one in which
he and James had found Morrow earlier that day. He
hadn't really noticed much back then, but now he stared
at all the containers and bottles in the cabinets along the
wall, some with coloured liquids in them, others with
preserved animal and marine specimens. He thought he
saw something moving in one of the large tanks. Since
he was already on edge, he decided not to go and find
out what it was; instead he went over to the desk and
looked through the notes Morrow had left there. He
and James had forgotten about these papers. Maybe the
answer to Morrow's cryptic message was here somewhere.
But he could find nothing that seemed linked
to it. Looking down, he saw that the dog had followed
him and was now busy sniffing his feet. It glanced up at
him questioningly.

'What?' Sean asked. He sighed and looked back at
the shelves. He should be tracking down the headmaster,
but there might be something here, something
vital. He scanned the labels on some of the bottles:
distilled water, rain water, sea water, lake
water, tap water. Someone was clearly mad about
water. Since it was a lake study centre, Sean supposed
they did study water here, though he couldn't imagine it
made for an interesting job.

All at once he heard a sound somewhere in the
laboratory behind him. The dog was still sitting
quietly by his feet, so it was something else. He
swallowed, realizing how dry his throat had become,
and slowly turned round.

In a state of panic, James almost tumbled down the
stairs, straight into Waites – who was pretty worked up
himself.

'We've got to destroy that thing now!' James blurted
out. I don't care how we do it, we have to destr—'

'They're gone,' Waites interrupted.

'What?'

'Sean and Titus. They're not in the office any more.
Come on, we have to find them.'

Together they ran down the corridor.

'What were you saying?' Waites asked breathlessly.
'About destroying it.'

'It's worse than we thought,' James said, unwilling to
give away too much. 'But just promise me that if that
thing gets into me . . . Don't let me out of your sight.'

'Fine.'

'I wish I could tell you what I've just discovered, but
the fewer people who know, the better. It narrows the
chances of the specimen finding out.'

Waites wondered what that discovery could be, but
understood that sharing it could indeed be foolish if he
were to become host to the creature.

They were hurrying past the laboratories when they
heard Sean scream.

It looked like the parasite was the only thing keeping
Titus alive. His skin was an awful translucent yellow
pocked with bleeding craters and sores, while the
creases around his eyes and mouth had now become
cracks that wept openly, the blood more black than red.
His eyes were weak and watery and seemed to bulge as
though being squeezed by some invisible force. Many
of his teeth had fallen out and clumps of hair were
also missing. The tie that had once gagged him had
long been thrown off along with the cord. He hissed
at Sean, his breath giving off a stench of festering,
spoiled meat.

'Mr Titus. Are you . . . Are you still in there somewhere?'
Sean asked.

Ignoring this question, the man advanced, still hissing,
still fixing Sean with that crazy stare, hands reaching
for the boy, for its next victim. Sean backed away, but
behind him there was only the whiteboard and the wall;
there was nowhere else to run.

'Mine,' the creature hissed again; the smell was atrocious,
but Sean was too terrified to feel sick.

'Please, Mr Titus . . .' Sean could hear the quaver in
his voice, the terror. Tears were collecting in his eyes
now, ready to spill down over his cheeks. 'Please don't
do it. Please.'

Titus opened his mouth slowly, and Sean thought
he was going to speak. Instead he saw the black, wriggling
thing coil around in the ruined mouth, flexing in
preparation. Sean was paralysed with fear and unable to
defend himself when the creature sprang.

There was a noise like someone hitting a large sheet
of metal with a hammer, a clang that went on reverberating.
It felt as if someone had attached a sink plunger
to his face and was trying to pull it off. Sean fell back
against the wall and reached up to try and pull the
invader off.

It was too late though. It had already slithered into
his mouth, and though the obvious thing to do was bite
down on it hard, he couldn't summon up the courage.
Then it was at the back of his throat and up inside his
head, moving about, finding somewhere to hide. He
looked up and saw the headmaster stagger backwards,
looking at his diseased hands and then at Sean.

'Oh God . . . What has it done?'

In response, Sean could only shake his head, feeling
stunned, almost drugged, unable to do or say anything.
He was helpless. The dog, realizing something was very
wrong, and not liking the smell of the headmaster one
bit, retreated to the other side of the lab to watch.

'Sean,' Titus muttered through cracked lips. 'No . . .'
He looked around for something he could use to save the
boy, almost whimpering in desperation, already feeling
guilty for what had happened. Then he spied the jars of
water on the shelf. He squinted at the labels, and almost
jumped when he recognized something. He grabbed a
jar, re-read the label to make sure he had identified it
correctly, then unscrewed the lid.

Sean's vision was changing: Titus appeared to be a
great distance away. And sounds were changing too.
The drumming of the rain became louder, then seemed
to disappear altogether. He couldn't feel his legs and
wondered how he was still standing. And all of a sudden,
he wasn't.

'Put it down!' came a voice from behind Titus.

The headmaster turned to see Waites and James, the
former giving him a stern, angry stare, the latter shocked
and deeply concerned.

'Please,' Titus said, not putting the jar down, but
trying to placate them with both hands nonetheless.
'It's not in me any more. It's in Sean, but I know how
to get it out.'

'Get away from him,' James said, moving forward.

'James,' Waites warned. 'Don't get too close.'

But James wasn't scared of Titus now, just angry. 'I
said get away from him!'

'Please, you have to listen. I can get it out of him.
Please let me, before it's too late.' Titus held up the jar,
but James slapped it out of his hand, sending it flying
towards a workbench, where it smashed.

Waites rushed over and looked for the label. When
he found it he shook his head. 'Oh God, James, I think
he's telling the truth . . .'

James turned, unwilling to take his eyes off Titus,
but the headmaster was also looking at Waites.

'Look,' the teacher said, holding up the sodden label.

'Sea water.'

'So?'

'I think that Morrow's dying message wasn't "Sally";
he was trying to write "salt" . . . He just forgot to cross
the "t".'

'He must have worked it out during his experiments . . .
Or maybe he discovered it when that thing was in his
head.'

'Yes!' Titus was nodding, drool dripping from his
mouth now. 'It hates it! It can't stand any salt – even the
trace salt in the human body almost drives it mad.'

'Well then,' Waites said, eyeing the broken jar. 'Now
we have a weapon.'

The revelation was punctuated by a deep and unsettling
laugh that came, most unnaturally, from Sean's mouth.
In an instant he was on his feet. He kicked Titus in the
stomach – which ruptured the man's stomach, spilling
blood and matter out onto the floor. Staggering backwards,
Titus hit the corner of a bench, cracking his spine and
releasing his liquefying kidneys. He sank to the floor in
a twitching, haemorrhaging heap. All life was gone from
him in seconds.

Sean panted like an animal, then rushed down the
aisle between the lab benches, making for the door.
Waites was quick to respond and rugby-tackled him to
the floor. He knelt on his legs and drew his arms behind
his back, incapacitating him.

'James! Quickly, get some more salt water from
somewhere. We have to drive it out.'

'What? From where? I—'

'If there isn't any more sea water, find something
similar.'

'There might be some saline solution somewhere.'

'That might not be strong enough,' Waites said as
Sean struggled beneath him with surprising strength.
'Get some neat salt, and try boosting the saline with
that. But hurry, we might not have much time. We've
got to get it out of him now.'

James flung open all the cupboards and found both
saline solution and sodium chloride. He opened the solution
and added nearly a quarter of the sodium chloride,
then resealed and shook the bottle, hoping the mixture
was well blended. He ran over to where Waites was still
battling with his brother, barely noticing the dog, which
had come out of hiding and was edging closer.

Waites took the bottle. 'Right, when I turn him over
I'm going to sit on his legs. I want you to grab both his
arms and keep them down, OK?'

'Yeah.'

'I'll try and get this stuff into him. It's not going to be
easy though. Are you ready?'

James just nodded. Waites turned Sean over, fighting
to stay on his thrashing legs. James quickly grabbed
his brother's arms and forced them down, using every
ounce of strength he possessed to keep them there.
Waites shook the bottle, then unscrewed the top, and
held Sean's lower jaw. The boy's mouth was clamped
shut and wouldn't open. A snort came from his nose,
and his eyes betrayed the evil monster lurking within.

Waites didn't have time for games. Without any
warning, he jabbed his fist into Sean's stomach. As
he had hoped, it knocked the wind out of him and
the boy's mouth opened. Instantly the liquid went in
and was swallowed involuntarily, followed by much
coughing and spluttering. There was a delay of a second
or two, then the boy's eyeballs started rolling and his
body convulsed, making it even harder for them to
hold him down. An agonized scream issued from his
mouth, then, completely unexpectedly, he threw off
the two men holding him down and crawled towards
the dog.

James was OK, but Waites had banged his head
against a desk in the tumble and was momentarily
stunned. They could only watch in shock and exasperation
as the thing controlling Sean flew out of his open
mouth and straight into the dog's. James got to his feet
to grab the dog, but it was off before he could reach it.

Waites looked down at Sean, who was now twitching
and foaming at the mouth. 'Take care of your brother,
James – I'll go after the dog. If it gets out of the centre
it's all over.' Without waiting for a reply, he set off.

Sean looked exhausted after his ordeal. The blow to
his stomach still hurt, but it was having the thing in his
head that had really shaken him.

James helped his brother into a sitting position. 'Are
you OK?'

'I don't know,' Sean gasped. 'My head feels all bloated
and . . . messy.'

His brother was staring at him, tears flowing down
his cheeks.

'James?'

'Yeah.'

'Am I going to die?'

'Don't be stupid. Of course you're not.'

'It was in me though. I mean, that's enough, isn't it?'

'Yeah, but it wasn't in for long though. Maybe . . . '

For a while they stayed there, not moving, not talking,
too numb to do anything.

Waites knew that tracking down the dog wasn't going to be
easy. However, as far as he knew, all the doors were closed.
As for the windows, the dog would find it difficult to get
through them, even though it was now no ordinary dog.

He moved quietly, listening for any sound that betrayed
its whereabouts, checking behind every now and again.
He wondered what the creature's plan was. It obviously
wanted to survive, just like any other creature on earth,
but it was intelligent, so was it planning on doing more
than just surviving? If so, what? Now that it was stuck
in the body of a small animal, its efforts would surely be
hampered. Waites felt sorry for the dog, but if he was able
to catch it, he would kill it without hesitation, along with
its detestable passenger.

He suddenly heard a sound – a crash upstairs. Something
was moving about up there. He went quietly
up the stairs, careful not to give away his position. At
the top he had a good look around. It was dark, but
he didn't want to turn on the main corridor lights in
case he startled his target. Creeping forward, his senses
on high alert, he wondered what plan the creature had
already hatched. If it wanted to get out of the centre,
why had it come upstairs?

He padded along the hall until, glancing into one
room, he saw that a large bird cage on a stand had been
tipped over. Feathers, bird seed and droppings lay scattered
around. At first Waites assumed the occupant
of the cage was dead, but a flap of wings and a chirp
confirmed that the bird was still OK. He peered around
the room without actually crossing the threshold. He
stood there, listening, barely breathing as he strained to
hear the dog. Impatient, he finally went in, switching
on the light and looking for clues that it had been there.
Suddenly he heard a sound – a loud sniff – from under
the bed. Waites was sure it was canine.

'I need to lie down,' Sean said in a weak voice.

'You can lie down all you like soon. First we've got to
take care of that thing and . . .'

'What?'

'Nothing. Look, let's get you back to the office. You
can sit down and I'll get you some water. Don't worry
about what's happened. Like you said, it wasn't in you
long; it probably didn't have a chance to infect you.'

But all Sean could do was worry. It wasn't just the
taste of the thing lingering in his mouth that bothered
him, it was the feeling it had left behind. The feeling of
invasion, of control. The thing had wormed its way up
into his brain. The thought of it oozing around up there
nearly drove him mad. And what of the infection? Was
it already taking hold? He would have an agonizing
wait to find out.

As he staggered down the corridor after James, Sean's
head throbbed, and a horrible metallic taste suddenly
overwhelmed his senses. He retched.

'Are you all right?' James asked, stopping.

Sean took a few deep breaths. 'Yeah, I'm fine, just a
bit woozy. Come on . . .'

James supported his brother back to Sally Cooper's
office. There was still a damp patch in the corner where
the headmaster had been lying. Again Sean was filled with
pity for him. He hadn't deserved anything like this. He
had been put through a terrifying ordeal only to face an
agonizing death. At least it had been fairly quick. At least
his body had been so far gone that it couldn't fight the
inevitable for long. Still, what would Sean say to people
who asked what had happened to Titus? What would he
say to his family? Assuming he lived to tell anyone anything
of course. He slumped in a chair and rubbed his head.

'Do you want me to find you some painkillers?' James
asked. 'I think there are some in one of these drawers—'

'No,' Sean said. 'I don't want anything else in my
head. I'll just put up with the pain.'

'OK,' James said, wondering what to do next. He
wanted to help Waites track down and destroy the dog,
but there was no way he was leaving his brother alone.
Not now when he really needed him. Then they both
heard a cry from what sounded like a long way off,
though it must have come from inside the centre.

'What was that?' Sean asked.

'I don't know. Maybe it was Mr Waites.'

Their minds started looking for explanations for the
muffled outburst – none were to their liking. Sean looked
up at James, and they both knew they had come to the
same conclusion. The situation had changed, priorities
had altered. If Waites was in trouble and needed help,
they couldn't just ignore him.

'Close the door behind me,' James said. 'Here . . .' He
opened one of the drawers and produced a key. 'Lock it
and don't open it until I come back.'

'How will I know it's you?' Sean asked, taking the key
but not wanting his brother to go anywhere.

'You'll know' – James turned and opened the door
– 'because if it does get me, I promise you, it won't reach
this room.' With that he left, closing the door behind
him before he had a chance to change his mind.

Sean, still stunned, rose from the chair and locked
the door, shaking more than ever now from shock and
apprehension.