Last Stand of Dead Men. Derek Landy
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Название: Last Stand of Dead Men
Автор: Derek Landy
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Детская проза
isbn: 9780007489244
isbn:
Myra said something and his body snapped away from the door and he fell, convulsing. Pain seized his mind. His legs kicked. His arms curled, fingers clutching at nothing, his muscles contracting with each spasm that shot through him. He tried to tell her to run, but his jaw was locked, his tendons straining against his skin. Run. Run. Why wasn’t she running? She was kneeling over him, speaking, but he couldn’t make out the words. Then she stood, put something on the hall table and stepped over him, heading for the kitchen.
The thing on the hall table. He could see the edge of it. It was black plastic or metal, with two little silver points. A taser.
He tried to teleport. Of course he couldn’t. No one could use magic, not with that much residual electricity running through them. He gave a grunt that sounded like a gag, and heaved himself on to his stomach. He started crawling. He could hear her now. He could hear the rattle of cutlery as she searched for something.
He crawled for the bedroom.
He heard her curse. She’d found the muffins in the bin. She was not happy.
He crawled faster.
He got to the bedroom. Tane Aiavao lay face down on the carpet, a knife lodged in his skull. Hayley Skirmish sat against the far wall, her throat cut.
Fletcher nudged the door shut, swung himself round to place his feet against it, and he lay back and tried to regain control of his body.
The handle turned, and Myra pushed and Fletcher pushed back.
“This is silly,” she said from the other side. “Fletcher, you’re delaying the inevitable. Come on. Open up.”
He would have come up with a witty retort, but it was at that moment he realised his bladder had loosened.
“I-I’ve w-wet myself,” he said through chattering teeth.
“That’s normal,” Myra told him. “You’re lucky that’s all you did. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Why’re you … why …”
The door shuddered violently. “Why am I doing this?” she said. “Because I’ve been paid to do it. It’s my job.”
Fletcher’s teeth were chattering so hard he bit his tongue and tasted blood. “You s-said you … loved me.”
“Yeah,” she answered, “and you didn’t say it back, you creep!”
She started kicking the door. He could hear it splintering from the other side.
“S-sorry,” he called. “I … I l-love you, too.”
She laughed. “Bit late, yeh flamin’ drongo.”
That wasn’t nearly as cute as it once was.
Fletcher’s fingers opened and closed. His whole body ached and buzzed, but it was slowly coming back under his control. He looked around for something, a weapon, and reached out for Tane’s wrist, started pulling his body closer.
Myra was really making a racket with all that kicking. “You’re annoying me now,” she said. “You hear me, Fletch? Now I’m annoyed. Let me in. Let me in right now.”
When Tane’s body was close enough, Fletcher’s hand curled round the handle of the knife. He tried pulling it free, but it was lodged deep in the skull.
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