The 13th Horseman Part 22

"What about them?"

"You should've seen them. All trapped in that tank, stressing out, becoming more and more agitated. I could see they were scared. That's why I did what I did."

"Sounds wonderful," Mr Franks said. "What's your point?"

"I didn't kill them on purpose. I let them go," Drake said, "but they were too frightened. Too panicked. I tipped over the tank and they knocked over a Bunsen burner and do you know what happened next?"

"They all burned alive?"

"Well, yes, but before that," Drake said. "Do you know what happened right before that?"

Mr Franks shook his head. "Go on."

"Chaos," said Drake. He pulled his hand from his pocket and brought it back sharply. "Complete and utter chaos."

With a cry of triumph, Drake hurled the badge at the gla.s.s dome. The world seemed to lurch into slow motion as the words *I AM 4' flipped, end over end over end, on a direct collision course with the gla.s.s.

Mr Franks' reactions were quick, but not quick enough. He made a dive for the badge, but his fingers couldn't quite find it. It pa.s.sed by him and struck the soul bowl dead centre.

And then it bounced harmlessly off, and landed on the metal floor with a faint c.h.i.n.k.

There was silence for a moment, broken only by a sharp, sudden laugh from Mr Franks. Drake searched his pockets, hoping to find something else to throw, but painfully aware that he wouldn't.

"Wow!" Mr Franks cried. "What a throw! That was brilliant. Just brilliant! For a horrible moment there I thought it was actually going to work! I thought you were actually going to ruin everything."

He chuckled and this time the tears he wiped from his eyes were genuine. "But no," he said. "You blew it. Game over, kid. Nice try."

Krik.

The smile fell from Mr Franks' face.

Ka-rick.

Drake watched as a hairline crack spread across the surface of the dome. Inside, the trapped souls were hurling themselves against the gla.s.s, pushing up and out in their panic to be free. It was the frogs all over again.

Ka-RACK.

Mr Franks' eyes went wide as the gla.s.s dome shattered. "Oha c.r.a.p," he muttered, and then his world descended into chaos.

Drake could see the souls swooshing and swooping around the teacher, batting and buffeting him this way and that. The teacher, however, couldn't see a thing. He flailed out wildly at invisible foes, throwing wild punches and wilder kicks that took him further and further away from the control deck.

Ducking a streaking blue orb, Drake crossed to the controls. He looked over them, trying to figure out what all the b.u.t.tons and dials and switches and faders and k.n.o.bs actually did. He could feel Mel's eyes on him, wide open and terrified. He would get her down. In just a few seconds, he would get her down, and she would be safe. But first...

He had to read all the labels three times before his racing brain found the one it was looking for. He flicked a little black switch. There was a sound like a faint sigh, and a sudden wind pushed him back from the control deck.

"The barrier!" Mr Franks wailed. He swatted at where he thought a soul might be and stumbled across to the desk, the wind shoving hard at his back. "What have you done to my barrier?"

Drake ducked against the howling winds and raced to reach the controls before the teacher did. He had to protect the switch, had to prevent Mr Franks from reactivating the force field.

With a cry of triumph, Drake's hand clamped down over the switch, blocking it from the teacher's reach. His victory was short-lived, though, when he realised that Mr Franks hadn't been going for that b.u.t.ton.

There was a click.

There was a bang.

There was a scream.

And the metal rod, with Mel attached, detached from the roof and disappeared over the edge.

"No!" Drake bellowed as, without a second thought, he rushed to the edge and hurled himself after her.

The air roared in his ears, louder than anything he'd ever heard in his life. He plummeted head-first, his arms tucked in by his sides, his feet pointed back up towards the roof so as to make his body as streamlined as possible.

Mel had fallen free of the pole she had been tied to. She twisted and spun through the air, flipping and twirling as she plunged towards a very messy death on the hard ground below.

Ever so slowly, the gap between them was closing. Drake felt a surge of hope. I'm going to make it, he thought. I'm going to make it!

"He's not going to make it," Pest yelped. "He's not going to make it!"

He and the other hors.e.m.e.n had seen the flicker as the barrier had fallen, then heard the blast, way up high, as the bomb at the base of Mel's pole had detonated. They had seen her fall, and had watched as Drake launched himself after her. The gap between the distant falling figures was narrowing. It was definitely narrowing.

But it wasn't narrowing quickly enough.

Drake plunged. The ground was racing up to meet Mel. She'd never survive the fall. He wasn't even sure if he would, but at least he had a fighting chance. He had to reach her, had to catch her, but with each metre that pa.s.sed the chances of him doing that grew smaller and smaller.

He brought his arms out in front of him, hands together above his head, so his body almost formed the shape of a missile. The robe billowed out behind him like the cape of some dark, avenging superhero.

The robe. The robe was slowing him down!

Wriggling furiously, he untangled himself from the heavy cloak. It fluttered upwards as the wind caught it, and Drake felt himself speed up. The whistling air stung his eyes as the gap between him and Mel began to close more rapidly.

His grasping fingers brushed against her clothes. His arms went round her. He pulled her in close, twisted until he was beneath her and then, with a boom, they both hit the ground.

DRAKE BLINKED BOTH his eyes. He could do that, at least. That was something.

He was lying on his back. Mel was lying on his front, his arms holding her against him. The robe was on the ground beneath them. He didn't have the energy to try to figure out how. He looked up and saw three concerned faces looking down at him.

"Oh, thank G.o.d," Pest said, letting out a breath he had been holding on to for a long time. "You're OK."

"Welcome back," War said. "Good catch."

"Biscuit?" asked Famine, holding out a packet of digestives.

Pestilence and War looked at the fat man in quiet amazement. "Well, there's a first," Pest said. He reached for the packet. "I'll have one, if it's going."

"Shove off," Famine grunted, pulling the packet back. "I wasn't asking you. I was asking Drake and his lady friend."

"I'm OK, thanks," Drake said. He tried a laugh. It didn't hurt too badly. "What about you, Mel?"

Mel did not answer.

"Mel?"

Drake craned his neck so he could look at her. Her eyes were closed. The muscles in her face were slack. "Mel?" Drake said again, and he could hear the desperation in his own voice this time.

"Get her on her back," Famine said, nudging War. "Check her pulse."

Drake scrambled to his feet as Mel was lifted off him. He watched, saw nothing else, as War pressed two fingers against Mel's throat, then gave a single slow shake of his head.

"N-no, but I saved her," Drake stammered. "I caught her. I saved her."

Pest took hold of his arm, holding him back. "The fall itself..." he said softly. "Humans, they're fragile. The fall itself could've done it. There's nothing you could have done. There's nothing anyone could do."

Famine licked his rubbery lips, then wiped the saliva away with the back of his arm. "Yes, there is," he said. "Rules of First Aid. Step one, check for dangers." All but Drake glanced up at the robot. "We won't count that one," Famine decided. "Step twoa""

"Just hurry up!" Drake cried.

"All right, all right, keep your hair on," Famine muttered, as he dropped to his knees. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, warming up, then he tilted back Mel's head, clamped his lips over hers, and blew.

One breath, that was all it took. She coughed, spluttered, sat up, stared, then slumped back down again, her eyes closing as she fell. War checked again for a pulse. This time, he nodded.

Famine licked a finger, pressed it against the side of his face, and made a hissing sound, like water becoming steam.

"She reacted quickly to that," War said.

Pest shuddered. "Do you blame the girl?"

Drake was down on his knees. He hugged Famine. Or rather, he hugged a small percentage of Famine. The rest would have to wait.

"Mel," he said, but the word came out as a sob. He placed a hand on her face. He could feel her moving beneath his touch, as her breath came and went. "You're going to be OK," he whispered. He became aware that his cheeks were wet with tears. "You're going to be OK."

Her eyelids flickered, then opened. "Hey, Chief," she croaked. "What... what happened?"

Drake resisted the urge to glance at Famine. "Trust me," he said. "You don't want to know."

She tried to sit up, but pain twisted her face and she lay back down. Her eyes swam for a moment, but she forced them to focus on Drake's face. "Did you stop him?"

"Not yet."

"Then what are you waiting for? We had a deal, remember?"

Drake nodded and smiled grimly. "I remember."

From the noise she made, Drake knew it hurt, but Mel forced her head and shoulders up until she could kiss him on the cheek. "Go get him, Drake," she said.

"Can we hurry this up, do you think?" War muttered. "I'm three seconds away from puking in my own beard."

"Oh, stop teasing him," Pest said, slapping War on the arm. "Can't you see? The boy's in love!"

"What?" Drake spluttered, his face reddening.

"Listen, if you ever need any advice, Drake, come and see me," Famine told him, then he winked and tapped his nose. "I know a thing or three."

"Will everyone please shut up?" War growled. "We've still got the big metal b.u.g.g.e.r there to deal with, in case you hadn't noticed."

Drake joined War in staring up at the mechanoid. "Any ideas? Could you, like, chop its feet off or something?"

"Doubt the sword will get through that," War said.

"I could eat it," Famine suggested. "But it might take a while," he admitted.

"We have to do something," Pest said.

But the robot did something instead. Its foot lifted into the air as it began to stride forward once more. The hors.e.m.e.n watched the foot pa.s.s above them, before it slammed down on top of a parked car, sending all four tyres rolling along the road.

The machine paused then, before its arms raised out in front of it, first one, then the other. It twisted at the waist, then its head jerked round until it was facing the wrong way.

With a loud clank, the head and the torso snapped back to face the front again, just as the other leg lifted into the air.

"What's it playing at?" War growled. "It's going mental."

"It must be the souls," Drake said, peering up. He could see blue streaks looping around at the top of the robot's head. "I set the souls free. They're running riot up there. They must've damaged the controls. We need to bring it down before it trashes the whole town."

"But how?" Pest asked.

Drake's mind raced. There was something else about his two visits to Sunday School. Something else that had been covered in the puppet show. A sort of mini-show, before the Jesus and the Leper main event. What was it? What was it?

"Daniel and Goliath!" he cried.

"You mean David and Goliath," War said.

"Daniel, David, whatever," Drake said. He looked across to one of the spheres that had fallen during the battle. War followed his gaze. Realisation slowly dawned across his bearded face. "Can you do it?" Drake asked.

With barely a grunt, War picked up the sphere. "With my eyes shut."

"Fire away," Drake said. "Aim for the head, like Daniel did."

"David!"

"Whatever! Just throw it."

War balanced the ball in one hand, then pressed it against the side of his hairy cheek. Like a shot-putter, he launched the ball skyward. They all watched as it flew up, up, up towards the robot's head.

"Easy," War said, flexing his muscles. "It's home and dry."

There was a distant bang as the ball smashed against the robot's thick sh.e.l.l.

"Look out!" Drake cried. A rain of metal and wire and dark red liquid fell to Earth around them.