The sound of approaching feet stopped outside the door.
I peeked through my fingers and watched as the bottom of the door swung open. A pair of gleaming black shoes entered the room. I knew who was wearing them. I could hear him sniffing as if his nose was blocked. McCain closed the door and came inside. He stood in the middle of the room and sniffed the air. Then, crossing over to the wall on the opposite side of the room, he did what I had fought the urge to do. He rolled his tongue from his mouth and licked the congealed blood that covered the wall. He licked it like you would a lollypop, in long, drawn- out movements as if he was savouring every moment. I watched as he pressed his nose into the dried blood and sniffed. He sniffed again, and he seemed to become agitated as if he couldn’t smell the blood in some way, like his nose was stuffed with snot.
McCain crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the bed.
I heard McCain sniff again and then rummage through his trouser pockets. Empty. He sniffed again. I guessed he was looking for his nasal spray. McCain squirmed on the edge of the bed as he bent forward. Sam flinched beside me and rammed his fist into his mouth as one of McCain’s shoes brushed against him.
Sam lay on his side, eyes closed. If he had popped his thumb into his mouth, the image of a baby in its cot would have been complete. McCain shifted above us again, and the springs in the bed groaned.
“Where is it?” I heard McCain curse under his breath.
Suddenly, McCain’s hand appeared. It scurried about like a bony spider, as it felt for the medicine beneath the bed. To my horror, his hand began to scuttle towards me. And with no room to manoeuvre beneath the bed, I might well end up in Sam’s lap. McCain’s hand inched nearer and nearer, in search of the bottle. Sensing that I was only seconds from being caught, I leant forward and pushed the medicine towards McCain’s hand with my fingertips. McCain’s spidery-like hand curled around it and snatched the bottle away.
I looked sideways at Sam. He closed his eyes, then tilting his head as if looking up at the ceiling, he mouthed the words, “Thank you.”
I felt McCain stand up, and from our hiding place we watched him head over towards the bookcase to where the camera was hidden. I watched McCain unscrew the cap, like a desperate drunk opening a bottle of beer, then ram the bottle into his right nostril. Throwing his head back, he squeezed the bottle between thumb and forefinger and breathed in deeply. He then thrust the bottle into his left nostril and did the same. Shaking his head from side to side, tears began to trickle from the corners of his eyes, and his nose began to dribble snot onto his top lip. He replaced the cap and put the nasal spray back into his pocket. There was a small mirror attached to the wall next to the bookshelf. From our hiding place, we watched as he pushed up the end of his nose and tilted his head from side to side as he glared up his own nostrils. Then with his right forefinger, he pulled a bloody length of snot from his nose. After inspecting it, I gagged as McCain rolled it between his fingers then popped it into his mouth.
I looked at Sam, who was pretending to throw-up. He was putting two fingers into his mouth and grinning. Turning away, I watched McCain stand in front of the bookshelf and my stomach scrunched up in fear.
Then, a high-pitched wailing sound broke the silence and McCain turned away from the bookshelf. The noise was ear-splitting and I placed my hands over my ears. Spying from beneath the bed, I could see the green light from the camera peeking between the spines of two books.
“I don’t believe it!” McCain groaned. “How many more of those
No sooner had the door closed then Sam and I were scrambling out from beneath the bed.
“C’mon!” Sam said, heading towards the door.
“Hang on,” I told him, knowing that I would never be able to sneak the camera out of the room now without him seeing me. But I needed that camera — that’s what I had risked everything for — and I wasn’t leaving without it. I pushed aside the books and grabbed the camera. It wouldn’t come free; the wires attached to it were still holding the camera in place.
“What are you doing?” Sam hissed from the doorway.
“I think I’ve found something,” I said back, tugging the camera free of the wires.
“Have you lost your mind?” Sam snapped. “We don’t have time for this. Can’t you hear the sirens? This place is gonna be crawling with Greys.”
I yanked one last time on the camera, and it came free of the wire. The green light went out. “I’m good to go,” I said, trying to conceal the camera in my hand.
Sam looked at it, then glancing at me he said, “Whatever is on that camera had better be worth the shit we’re gonna be in if we get caught.”
Then, sneaking from the room and back into the darkness of the corridor, we crept with speed through the labyrinth of passageways. Not wanting to be caught by McCain, who we feared might still be close by, we headed back towards our rooms as quickly as we could.
Racing through the hallways and corridors, the searchlights whizzed frantically back and forth. No longer were they controlled, sweeping movements, but desperate and erratic as if searching for something that was now loose in the grounds of Ravenwood. Sam charged down the passageways. Almost halfway back to the safety of our rooms, the air raid sirens grew louder. It was like I had been transported back in time to the Blitz. The noise was deafening, and with the sudden flashes of light illuminating the corridors from outside, both Sam and I became disorientated.
We raced on, every part of my being urging me forward. Sam’s arms pumped beside him, and he ran so hard and fast that his knees looked as if they might just touch his chin. Reaching a bend in the corridor, we sprinted around it, stalling in fright as a Grey sprung from the shadows.
“Whoa!” Sam shrieked as the Grey took hold of him by both shoulders.
Light flashed into the corridor and in that instance, I recognised the Grey to be Brother Michael. The light darted away again, leaving his large frame shrouded in darkness.
Brother Michaelmade a rasping sound in the back of his throat, like he was gargling blood or something. His tongue smacked off his chin, spraying spittle through the air. Brother Michael screamed, tilting his head to one side as if waking from a nightmare. His screams were hideous, gut-wrenching, and filled me with dread. I wanted to get far away from Brother Michael but he had Sam trapped. Without thinking, I grabbed at Sam. Taking hold of his shirt, I yanked him back and away from the Grey. Brother Michael released his grip, and then shook all over, as if he’d just received an electric shock.
Spinning round, Brother Michael charged into the corridor wall, smacking his head against it. He staggered and then fell backwards. The sound of his head striking the wall was a dull, sickening thud and I half expected to see the Grey’s brains explode out of the back of his head. Somehow, Brother Michael managed to stay on his feet as he began to spin around and around, his arms flapping up and down on either side. We watched in disbelief as Brother Michael bounced off the walls like a ball in a pinball machine. He reached the end of the corridor, where he crashed through a set of doors and out into the grounds of the school.
Seizing our chance, Sam and I dashed up the stairs, taking two at a time until we had reached the landing outside our rooms. At the top of the spiral staircase, I looked out of the window. I watched as several of the Greys wrestled with something on the lawn beneath the window. Whatever it was, it was screaming. The noise that it made sounded like it was having its throat slit.
