Colm & the Ghost's Revenge (16 page)

The Brute's eyes were bulging with the effort as he dragged Lauryn out through the door. The undead wouldn't let go and he was having to drag both of them along the ground. It was exhausting and the decaying stench given off by the two creatures was almost unbearable. It was so rank it burned the inside of his nostrils.

‘You go. Leave me here, I can fight them off,' Lauryn cried.

‘That line only works in films,' The Brute grunted, continuing to pull.

The undead security man, which had worked its way around the bodies on the ground, now swung an arm towards The Brute, its hot, clammy fingers clawing against the teenager's sweaty face. The second creature pulled itself forward, using Lauryn as a climbing rope. She saw the way its eyes changed the closer it got to her beating heart. The dullness became a gleam, like an animal that's just realised it's feeding time. She kicked out, wriggling like a snake on fast forward, but the creature hung on grimly.

‘Let me go,' The Brute shouted.

Lauryn hadn't time to look at him. Was he talking to her?

‘Lauryn. Let me go,' he repeated.

Was this guy deserting her? So what if he is, I can take these two creatures by myself, Lauryn thought, even though deep down she knew that she couldn't. No matter how often she kicked out at the one on her leg it wouldn't let go.

She released the grip she hadn't realised she had on The Brute. He removed his arms from under hers, shrugged off the security creature and ran farther out into the hallway.

He really is going to desert me, Lauryn thought, as she heard his footsteps move rapidly away.

But he wasn't leaving her behind. He was just backing up to get a bit of momentum going. He reached the wall on the far side of the hall, turned and ran back towards the shop. He stuck out an arm at a ninety degree angle from his body and kept it straight and strong. He sprinted faster than he'd ever sprinted before. The security undead looked at him, confused, then the creature's world went black as The Brute's arm caught it hard on the chest, clothes-lining it and sending it into a flip that would have won a bronze at an Undead Olympic Gymnasts' competition.

The Brute left the ground and swan-dived forward, propelled by his speed, and landed right on top of the second creature, flattening it.

The creature let out a moan of pain and released its hold on Lauryn. She got to her feet as The Brute jumped back to his and beat his chest in defiance.

‘Don't ever mess with the “dude”,' he shouted at the prostrate undead.

‘You can gloat later,' Lauryn said, slinging the schoolbag over her shoulder again. ‘Let's get out of here before they recover.'

‘
If
they recover,' The Brute smirked.

But he still dragged the two bodies into the shop and locked the door behind him so that the creatures were trapped.

‘Now let's finish this,' Lauryn said.

She took The Brute's hand, which almost caused him to faint with excitement, and they began to run along the darkened hall.

‘H
ey you, open the door,' Kate shouted at the undead creature outside. She banged against the door with her fist. ‘Wait a second, I recognise him. He's the guy who kidnapped me.'

She was right. The undead was Wiry Boris. Although the part of him that had been Boris, the unpleasantness that had been his personality, seemed to have gone on holiday. He walked into the glass door again and again, driven by a desire to kill. No more getting the others to do his dirty work. This time he was going to do it all by himself.

‘I know him too,' Cedric said. ‘I punched him on the nose.'

‘I threw him into a dish of cat food,' Kate said. ‘I'd say that hurt more than one of your punches.'

‘It's not a competition, Kate.'

‘He doesn't look like himself. I mean, he's still creepy, but it's a different sort of creepiness.'

The creature that was once Wiry Boris bumped into the door again, then tottered backwards, leaving a trail of snot and slime on the glass.

‘Disgusting,' Kate muttered to herself.

‘He reminds me of …' Cedric began.

‘What?'

‘That Hugh DeLancey-O'Brien creature. The one I helped dispose of in the woods that night. He's acting a bit like him.'

‘Is he a zombie? 'Cos I don't like zombies. They eat brains, don't they?' Kate said.

‘No, that's a popular myth. The first brain-eaters only appeared in a film in the late 1960s–'

‘Are you giving me a history lesson? Listen to me, Cedric Murphy – I don't care about myths. I want to know what he'll do if he gets in here.'

‘I don't know.'

‘Then shut your trap about the 1960s and all that rubbish.'

‘I presume he'll kill us in some way. Probably gruesomely. I mean the man who captured us is unlikely to put the undead outside as guards if they're just going to let us pass by. No, it'll be horrifying and gruesome, all right.'

‘You really have no idea of how to reassure someone, do you?' Kate said.

‘You're big enough to handle the truth,' Cedric replied.

That was true enough.

‘If our kidnapper put us here and has given us an undead guard, then that means he wants to stop us going outside. When somebody wants me to do something, I really, really want to do the opposite, no matter how scary it is,' Kate said.

‘You're saying you want us to break out of here, aren't you?'

‘You bet your sweet bippy that's what I'm saying.'

‘All the doors are locked,' Cedric said.

‘Then we'll have to bust our way out.'

‘Bust our way out? You sound like–'

Kate gave him one of her trademark withering glares. ‘What? What do I sound like?'

‘You sound like a woman with a plan,' Cedric said with a gulp. ‘Let's bust out of here. I can't wait to get out there and face that creature.'

‘Those creatures,' Kate corrected him as the undead Pretty Boy and Uggo joined their hated colleague outside the door.

‘This just gets better and better,' Cedric sighed.

‘Shhh, do you hear that?'

The sound of footsteps outside. Somebody was running down the hallway. Kate's jaw dropped open as The Brute and Lauryn raced past, skilfully dodging the outstretched arms of the former goons.

‘Was that …'

‘Oh yeah, I forgot to mention them. Funny story,' Cedric said.

Kate wasn't listening. The three undead creatures had lost interest in getting into the shop. They turned and began to amble after Lauryn and The Brute. They were ten times slower than the teenagers, but they only had one thing on their minds and they wouldn't be stopped.

The security control centre was brightly lit. There were two chairs in front of a large bank of blank computer screens. Colm sat in one of them.

His eyes flickered open.

‘You're back,' The Ghost said without a hint of emotion.

Colm tried to shake away the cloud of fuzziness that enveloped his mind.

‘Where am I?'

‘It doesn't matter.'

Colm got to his feet. He felt a little unsteady, but stronger than he expected. He was doing his best to remain calm. He needed to think clearly, now more than ever. Did the man really think that he could make himself immortal? Eighteen months ago Colm would have laughed at the idea, but he'd seen a lot of strange things since then.

‘You won't get away with this,' he said.

The Ghost ignored him. He reached under a desk and took out a wooden shield about one metre high and half a metre across at its widest point. It was covered with intricate wooden carvings of horrific scenes, all depicting people dying in a stomach-churning manner. There were three small holes at its centre. For a moment The Ghost seemed to be consumed by it, as if it was a thing of beauty. He ran his fingers across the wooden surface, lightly caressing it.

Colm's eyes were scanning the room, searching for something he could use, anything that might help him to escape. The only door was triple locked. Two deadlocks and a thick, iron bolt. Was it to stop Colm getting out or someone from getting in? Maybe both. The Ghost was far stronger than Colm, but if he wanted to stop him getting out … did that mean the Abbatage ceremony made him weak? Possibly, but it wasn't something Colm could rely upon. There wasn't much else in there. Other than the desks and chairs and computers. Except that microphone which he assumed was used for announcements, but what good was that?

The Ghost handed him the shield. ‘Hold this.'

‘What if I say no?' Colm asked, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

The Ghost gently laid the shield against the security system console and pressed a button on the control panel. Two of the computer screens flickered to life. When the images appeared Colm gasped. Each screen showed a picture of one of the shops in the shopping centre and even though the lights weren't on in there, the cameras were on night vision. The images were clear enough for Colm to recognise the people locked inside. His mother was in one shop, his father in another. And outside each one he could see shadowy figures at the shop door. Pawing at the glass, pounding in some cases. Trying to break in and devour the people inside.

‘You're a monster,' Colm shouted.

‘The glass is strong, but my army of the undead is strong too. Within minutes they will have broken in and your parents will not be strong enough to fight them off. They will die. Unpleasantly.'

He looked down at the control panel and flicked the switches for another couple of screens. As they flickered on Colm saw The Brute and Lauryn, or some people who looked very like them, running along the hallway. The Ghost hadn't looked up, but as soon as he did he would see the two escapees. I can't let that happen, Colm thought, I have to distract him.

He picked up a manual from the desk beside him and threw it at The Ghost. The man easily batted it away, but it was enough to draw his attention away from the monitors. ‘Enough, we have no time for your childish temper tantrums.'

‘Why are you doing this to my parents? It's me you want.'

‘Your parents are nothing to me, but as long as I have them you'll do what I tell you. You know of the Abbatage ceremony?'

Upon hearing the word Abbatage Colm pretended to faint. It was the oldest trick in the book. He collapsed theatrically, knocking the shield from where it lay against the security console. The Ghost caught it before it hit the ground.

‘Stop playing games, boy,' he growled. ‘Get up.'

Colm opened his eyes and did his best to feign embarrassment at being caught out. He grabbed the console and hauled himself to his feet. As The Ghost was examining the shield carefully for damage, Colm hit the microphone switch with his elbow.

‘We're never going to find him,' The Brute panted as they jogged up the stairs.

‘You don't believe in positive thinking, do you?' Lauryn said.

‘I'm Irish. Most of us prefer to grumble and we love to expect the worst.'

They reached the top of the stairs. Lauryn stopped and unzipped the schoolbag. She reached in and produced a torch.

‘Man, that bag has everything we need,' The Brute said, impressed.

Lauryn switched on the torch. They took a couple of steps forward and leaned over the railing, which gave them a view of the black and white tiled floor below. There were plenty of people moving down there. Unfortunately, they were all citizens of the country of Undead.

‘Where are they all coming from?' Lauryn wondered.

‘I'm more concerned with where they're going.'

‘Huh?'

‘They seem to be heading this way.'

‘We can outrun them,' Lauryn said.

‘We can for now. But we're going to tire eventually,' The Brute replied. ‘Maybe he's not here. Colm, I mean. Just 'cos The Ghost locked us up in a shopping centre with a load of freaky creatures doesn't mean that Colm's here. He could have other plans for him.'

Lauryn thought that The Brute had a point. That didn't mean she was going to admit it, though. She had to believe that Colm was here somewhere, that they were going to rescue him and defeat The Ghost.

‘No one has ever performed that ceremony successfully,' boomed a voice on the public address system. The speakers in the shopping centre crackled, distorting the voice slightly, but The Brute would have recognised that nasally whine anywhere. It was his cousin.

‘Well, it seems Colm is here,' he said.

‘And he's still alive,' Lauryn said in an I-told-you-so tone.

But then they heard another voice, a cold, even voice.

‘You have a choice,' The Ghost said. ‘Either help me with the Abbatage or watch everyone you care about die in a slow and horrible manner.'

His words gave The Brute and Lauryn the creeps.

‘He doesn't mean me. Colm doesn't care about me that much. That means I won't be one of the ones dying in a slow and horrible manner,' said The Brute.

‘It doesn't mean that at all,' Lauryn replied.

‘I know, I was just trying to think positively.'

The Ghost grabbed the microphone from Colm's hand and wrenched it from its socket, knocking over a computer screen, sending it crashing to the ground. Shards of monitor glass spilled across the floor.

‘What did you hope to achieve by broadcasting our conversation?'

‘That's not your concern,' said Colm, as bravely as he could while backing away from The Ghost. He didn't feel brave any longer.

The man stared at him. He threw the microphone at Colm. It caught him on the side of the head. The blow stung, but he tried not to show it. He didn't even flinch.

‘Anyway, you can't perform the ceremony. You need three Lazarus Keys and only two still exist,' Colm said. ‘We destroyed the third one last year.' On that night, which now seemed like it was centuries ago, Colm had tricked the rat-faced man into swallowing the third key and it had dissolved in the acid in his stomach.

The Ghost turned away for a moment, seemingly unconcerned by Colm's statement. Then he played his hand. He held out a velvet bag. He pulled open the drawstring and Colm saw a small, sparkly object fall into The Ghost's palm, quickly followed by a second one. The keys began to glow. For a moment, despite his certainty that only two remained, he expected the worst. But then his heart leaped. There were two keys. Only two. He almost wept with relief. Then, ‘Look closer,' the man said, holding the bag open.