the feeling, but why do you say it?”
I shrug, feeling a bit silly. “There’s a new teacher at school and when I see him I feel…wrong. It’s like I’m afraid of heights and out on a window ledge.” I raise my hands. “That’s not much of a description either!”
“It’s not what we normally feel, but you should stay away from this man. The bashrak could have evolved or found a way to change the signal. It could be him. I can’t think of another reason for his effect on you.”
“How can I stay away from hi m? He’s a teacher at my school.”
His mouth drops open and he runs a hand into his hair.
“You can’t go back to school, Camille. Everything’s changed, don’t you understand? I’ll teach you all I can in the time we have left but it won’t be enough. When you wake, you have to convince your parents to leave Seabrook. Put some belongings in the car and drive until you can’t go any further. I’ll come to you when I can.”
“You’re off your head.”
“HE’S COMING TO KILL YOU, YOU LITTLE IDIOT!”
He roars at me and the shock of it is like a punch in the face. He swallows and says, quietly,
“He’s coming to kill you and he will unless you get away and stay ahead of him. I can’t teach you enough in one session to defeat an animal that has been hunting and murdering its whole life. It’s a soldier, Camille, that has been programmed with one order: to find you and end your life. You’re fourteen years old and this isn’t fair, but this isn’t a dream and it isn’t a game. You have to face up to the danger you are in and you have to think about surviving. It’s the only thing that matters any more.”
I turn and walk away. He shouts after me, but I don’t stop.
Chapter Seven
I’m awake. Wide-awake. I’ve been awake for five hours, staring at the ceiling of my bedroom, thinking about everything and nothing and what’s real and what’s not.
I push back the bedding and drag on my clothes. I go to the bathroom and squeeze toothpaste onto the toothbrush and raise it to my mouth and move it up and down and think that there’s no point cleaning teeth that will soon be rotting in the ground. I swill my mouth and spit.
I have no idea what to do, but before I listen to a man in a dream and leave my life, there are a couple of things I want to try.
As the sun wakes, I let myself out of the house and set off for school.
*** *** ***
The gates are locked, so I decide to climb over them. What the hell; I’m feeling reckless.
Ten minutes later, red in the face and shaken after almost falling twice, I stand at the edge of the track, staring into the distance and chewing the inside of my cheek.
This is such a stupid idea. Am I really going to let a string of spooky dreams and nightmares rule my reality.
I guess I am.
I think about running really fast. I stand there, like a plank, and just think about running. Feet in trainers, pounding the pavement, for miles and miles. I feel the rhythm in my head and in my blood and in my bones. I think of the beat until there is nothing else and then I fold into the starting position.
The lane stretches out in front of me.
The man in my dream, my father, kept banging on about focus. He seemed to think it was the answer to everything. So the way I see it, if I focus hard enough, my brain will tell my body how to run fast, like yesterday when I watched Trishia. Everything has to be in tune.
I close my eyes and deepen my breathing. I feel the muscles bunched in my legs. The morning grass is wet beneath my fingers and it soaks the knee of my leggings. My white breath puffs into the early morning air and drifts away.
One…
Breathe in.
Two…
Breathe out.
Three…
Breathe in…
Four…
Breathe out.
Five…
Breathe in…
Six…
…GO!
I spring out of the hunched starting position , tuck
I shrug, feeling a bit silly. “There’s a new teacher at school and when I see him I feel…wrong. It’s like I’m afraid of heights and out on a window ledge.” I raise my hands. “That’s not much of a description either!”
“It’s not what we normally feel, but you should stay away from this man. The bashrak could have evolved or found a way to change the signal. It could be him. I can’t think of another reason for his effect on you.”
“How can I stay away from hi m? He’s a teacher at my school.”
His mouth drops open and he runs a hand into his hair.
“You can’t go back to school, Camille. Everything’s changed, don’t you understand? I’ll teach you all I can in the time we have left but it won’t be enough. When you wake, you have to convince your parents to leave Seabrook. Put some belongings in the car and drive until you can’t go any further. I’ll come to you when I can.”
“You’re off your head.”
“HE’S COMING TO KILL YOU, YOU LITTLE IDIOT!”
He roars at me and the shock of it is like a punch in the face. He swallows and says, quietly,
“He’s coming to kill you and he will unless you get away and stay ahead of him. I can’t teach you enough in one session to defeat an animal that has been hunting and murdering its whole life. It’s a soldier, Camille, that has been programmed with one order: to find you and end your life. You’re fourteen years old and this isn’t fair, but this isn’t a dream and it isn’t a game. You have to face up to the danger you are in and you have to think about surviving. It’s the only thing that matters any more.”
I turn and walk away. He shouts after me, but I don’t stop.
Chapter Seven
I’m awake. Wide-awake. I’ve been awake for five hours, staring at the ceiling of my bedroom, thinking about everything and nothing and what’s real and what’s not.
I push back the bedding and drag on my clothes. I go to the bathroom and squeeze toothpaste onto the toothbrush and raise it to my mouth and move it up and down and think that there’s no point cleaning teeth that will soon be rotting in the ground. I swill my mouth and spit.
I have no idea what to do, but before I listen to a man in a dream and leave my life, there are a couple of things I want to try.
As the sun wakes, I let myself out of the house and set off for school.
*** *** ***
The gates are locked, so I decide to climb over them. What the hell; I’m feeling reckless.
Ten minutes later, red in the face and shaken after almost falling twice, I stand at the edge of the track, staring into the distance and chewing the inside of my cheek.
This is such a stupid idea. Am I really going to let a string of spooky dreams and nightmares rule my reality.
I guess I am.
I think about running really fast. I stand there, like a plank, and just think about running. Feet in trainers, pounding the pavement, for miles and miles. I feel the rhythm in my head and in my blood and in my bones. I think of the beat until there is nothing else and then I fold into the starting position.
The lane stretches out in front of me.
The man in my dream, my father, kept banging on about focus. He seemed to think it was the answer to everything. So the way I see it, if I focus hard enough, my brain will tell my body how to run fast, like yesterday when I watched Trishia. Everything has to be in tune.
I close my eyes and deepen my breathing. I feel the muscles bunched in my legs. The morning grass is wet beneath my fingers and it soaks the knee of my leggings. My white breath puffs into the early morning air and drifts away.
One…
Breathe in.
Two…
Breathe out.
Three…
Breathe in…
Four…
Breathe out.
Five…
Breathe in…
Six…
…GO!
I spring out of the hunched starting position , tuck
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