Shadow Breakers Page 7

  “That’s pretty freakin’ cold,” says Josh. “What have we got on the computer data?”

  “All extracted,” replies Ollie, and spins the laptop around so we can all see it. The screen shows a timeline graph — a wobbly green line against a black background, plotting network activity against time. “A viral spike was inserted into the network’s copy of the Image-Ination software at 11:02, here. It attacked the system from within. Now, the thing about most computer viruses is that they’re a pain, they can wipe your data off, but they don’t actually damage the hardware itself. Well, this one did.”

  “How?” I ask, genuinely interested.

  “Yes, how?” echoes Cal. “A computer virus causing an overload of electrical energy? It doesn’t make sense.”

  Ollie grins. “I was hoping you’d ask. The virus didn’t come from Terminal Thirteen, but for some reason that was the first one to be zapped.”

  Lyssa says, “The Image-Ination software’s not corrupted, is it? No, so the virus is a decoy. It was inserted there so that when the techies came along to find out what went wrong, they’d be led up the garden path.”

  “So,” says Miss Bellini softly, taking her glasses off and twirling them between thumb and forefinger, “our conclusion is . . . ?”

  Ollie says, “The overload was caused by something outside. Something, or someone, in the room.”

  There is a moment’s silence, and we all draw breath and look at one another.

  Then Cal says cautiously, “Something . . . transferring energy straight into the computer network?”

  “Or drawing it out,” I suggest.

  Everyone turns to look at me.

  God, I hate it when they do that. But I have got something to say, and it seems they’re listening.

  “Go on,” says Miss Bellini.

  “Well, that can cause a power surge, too, can’t it? And it would make more sense. This . . . whatever it is we’re fighting, it must need energy.”

  Josh hasn’t spoken much yet, but now he unfurls himself from his chair and leans forward. “What about,” he says, “some bizarre form of energy that can adapt itself to its surroundings? Like a chameleon?”

  “Very good, Joshua,” says Cal. “You’re thinking. Is it your birthday?”

  Josh smiles at her. “Just to please you.”

  Cal smiles back, and the two of them hold their gaze just long enough for me to see the special look of understanding that passes between them. They seem close, Josh and Cal. They bicker and banter, but I can tell there’s something there. Oh yes, even I can see that. And why does this bother me? It shouldn’t.

  “I’ll start looking some things up,” says Ollie, gathering his notes together. “Got a lot to go on.”

  “And I’ll take a closer look at the data from the computer with you,” says Lyssa with her usual eagerness. “Something else may come up. Something I missed.”

  Miss Bellini smiles, leans back in her chair, spreads her hands. “This is what I like to see, folks. Self-motivation. Now, Miranda.”

  “Yes, Miss Bellini?” My voice sounds thin.

  She smiles. “Good work. Go back home for now. You look tired. But come back on Tuesday after school. I have something to show you.”

  THE OLD VICARAGE: SUNDAY 14:37

  I’m lying on my bed. My eyes are so heavy. I don’t feel too well. I think I need to sleep. What is the matter with me? Glandular fever? Flu? Feels weirder than that, like the times when I’ve been sort of disconnected from reality — on the freezing bus, seeing the Shape, that shadow in the computer lab. There’s an odd weakness in my body and bones.

  Mum’s “helper” Tash has taken Truffle for a walk, while Mum’s house visiting. Outside, the spring sunlight is struggling through low gray clouds.

  I don’t know if my eyes are open or closed.

  I think I’m down on the Esplanade. It is dusk, and the place is deserted. This is so strange. Am I awake? I hear screeching seagulls and I imagine . . . dream . . . no, more than that, I feel I’m barreling along the seafront with the cold salt wind in my face. I can smell that seaweedy death-smell again, that odor of burning. Sulfur. I stop, shade my eyes against the setting sun.

  And there.

  It’s standing at the waterline again. Just as it was that day, before I ate ice cream in the café with Josh.

  But this time it’s a recognizable Shape. Human. It’s wearing a long, dark dress, and its face is shrouded by a hood. A girl . . . ? And she’s beckoning to me. I am shaking with fear. I can hear my own ragged breath, feel my heart pumping away.

  Am I waking or sleeping?

  • • •

  The room stabilizes around me. I am awake now.

  I take several deep breaths, feeling my mouth dry and claggy with fear. I look around the room. Nobody but me, all my usual clutter, my clothes and posters.

  But my heart is still pounding.

  I need to get away from the bed. I need to get out of the bedroom. This bed and this bedroom, they’re where I first saw the Shape, where the terror started. I can’t let this happen anymore.

  Do not dream.

  And yet . . . I need answers.

  I remember what Cal said that day in the park. Running away from shadows or toward them? I know which I find more interesting.

  Still shaking, I go downstairs and pour a Cola-Maxx, shove my iPod into the dock on the counter, and flick through the tracks.

  Nothing matches my mood. I don’t want the Janies, Crank, or Elusive today. Not even the JumpJets. I need something empty and meaningless. I flick down further and there are some dance tracks one of the boys from my old school bootlegged for me. MC Gaia and the Force. Means nothing. Don’t think I’ve ever listened to it.

  I put it on while I slurp my drink. It’s good. Pounding and rhythmic, but kind of lush, echoing through the kitchen with a bass line as strong and head-kicking as the cola, with a lilting keyboard line like froth over the top. Good Sunday afternoon old-school techno. “And if you know that I love you, you’ll feel it in the air, feel it everywhere . . .” Stupid lyrics, but I’m nodding along to the track, leafing through a local paper Mum has left lying on the table. I’m trying to tell myself I feel normal, but I’m still shaking from the dream. I try to take an interest. Stuff about gardening shows, local children getting awards, something about the new power station going online . . .

  “And if you know that I love you, you’ll feel it in the air, feel it in the air —”

  The sound skips for a second. I wonder if it is supposed to do that. It skips again, missing several beats.

  I go over to my iPod to see what’s wrong with it. The music’s not only skipping now but trapped in a two-second loop.

  “Feel it in the — feel it in the —”

  And then it stops, goes silent.

  I frown. The screen’s still lit up. It looks as if it should be working.

  Something else comes through the speakers.

  Whistling.

  A pure, clear tune, in an open, echoing space. I couldn’t place it when I first heard it on the headphones in the Seaview Hotel. But now I recognize it. An old nursery rhyme tune from deep in the past.

  Ring around the rosie, a pocket full of posies . . .

  I tear the iPod out of the dock and hurl it across the room. It smacks against the tiles, skids, and comes to rest. Just to make sure, I unplug the dock as well.

  I am shaking, sweating, breathing hard.

  I’m not dreaming. Just like the time on the Esplanade when I saw the Shape. I’m awake. Something is happening to me, invading my life, and I can’t seem to do a thing about it.

  KING EDWARD VI HIGH SCHOOL: MONDAY 12:32

  I’m in the library, trying to look stuff up for my Geography project, and something’s thumped down on the tab
le in front of me — a big blue box file.

  “You’ve blotted my ink,” I point out, looking up at Josh.

  “Who cares about that?” Josh says. He pulls my book out from under the file and glances at it. “Chalk Escarpments of the South Downs. God, how dull. Is that what twelve-year-olds study in Geography these days?”

  “Joshua Barnes!” hisses the librarian, Miss Challis, glowering at him from her desk. “If you have a class to go to, please get there. If not, please be quiet! People come here to work!”

  “Sorry, miss. Just going, miss.” Josh grabs my arm. “Come on.”

  I’m gathering up my stuff, frantically stuffing it into my bag. “I’ve got netball next.”

  “Nope. You just got lucky. Note from your mum,” he says, texting with one hand as he shoves me out of the library doors.

  “I did?” I ask.

  “Miss B will sort it out.”

  “Josh, Miss B can’t forge notes from my mum.”

  “You’d be surprised.” He grins, waits for some stragglers to hurry past to their classes, then holds up the box file. “Well? Aren’t you going to ask me what this is all about?”

  I shrug. “What’s . . . this all about?”

  “Thought you’d never ask. Here!”

  I realize just in time that he’s going to throw me the file, and I catch it, gasping at the weight of it.

  “Good stuff, Miranda,” he says. “Come with me.”

  I don’t immediately follow him.

  “Miranda?” he says, doing a comical wave in my face. “All okay?”

  “Um, yeah, yeah.” I shake my head. “I’m fine. I just . . . didn’t sleep very well last night. I’ve been . . . drinking Cola-Maxx.”

  “Oooh, careful with that,” Josh says. “Strong stuff, you know. Can get you hooked.”

  “Can it?” I say in alarm.

  “No! Are you okay, Miranda? Really?”

  I nod hastily. “Really. Fine. Where are we going?”

  It turns out we’re going to the Physics lab, where there’s a free computer. The technician glares at us but Josh just tells him we are doing some work for Miss Bellini. He trudges off. I bet he’s going to check, and I bet we’ll turn out to have a backstage pass from Miss B.

  Okay, so I’m starting to enjoy this. It makes me feel like I can get away with all sorts of stuff.

  I open the box file. It’s dusty and full of old floppy disks, those big square things that people stopped using, like, decades ago.

  “We’ll never be able to read these!” I say.

  “Oh, you think?” Josh taps something at the side of the computer — a cream-colored disk drive with a thin, wide slot, attached to the main machine by a wide strip of colored wires. “Miss B saved this from the scrap heap over the summer. A wise move.”

  “What is all this, anyway?” I ask, handing Josh the first disk in the pile.

  “Records of unsolved phenomena, going back thirty years. Ollie got it all for me. Data we always meant to get transferred onto something more up-to-date, but never did. But it means it’s not exactly easy to access.” He slots the disk in and the drive chugs and whirrs like a food mixer. “Blimey, these old things make a racket.”

  “What are we looking for?”

  “Anything to do with unexplained power surges. Energy exchange. That kind of thing.”

  “We’ve got to go through the whole lot?” I say in horror, looking at the endless lines of old-fashioned, pixelly white text scrolling on the black screen.

  Josh claps me on the shoulder. “No, not ‘we.’ You do.”

  “What?” I look up.

  He slings his bag over his shoulder. “Rugby practice,” he says with an apologetic grin. “And I don’t have a note.”

  “Why can’t you do this?” I ask with a scowl.

  “Cal asked me to get you to do it.”

  “Oh, I see. And lover-boy always does what Cal says.”

  He rolls his eyes theatrically. “It’s not like that.”

  “Isn’t it?” I ask with an impish smile. “If you say so, Josh.”

  He opens the stockroom door and pauses on the threshold. “Think of it as earning your stripes. Efficiency is ninety percent delegation, you know.”

  And he’s gone.

  I hate this. I really hate it.

  And Josh? He is enjoying it.

  I sigh, looking at the pile of old disk records again.

  I’m not stupid. There’s no way I’m looking through all this stuff on my own without any idea of what it might mean. So I do what any sensible person would do. I may not be an IT expert, but I can do this. I slot the disks in one by one, copy all the data onto a document, put it in my secure web space, and reboot.

  Just as I’m slipping out of the deserted Physics lab my phone burbles at me.

  It’s a text from Jade.

  Where r u babe? need 2 spk

  I text her back, hurrying along the corridor:

  2 busy now meet @ brk

  I’m glad for the opportunity to chat. Jade and I have unfinished business.

  • • •

  At break time, I spot Jade instantly. She’s hopping up and down on the far side of the playground.

  “You’re in deep, babe,” she says to me, narrowing her eyes. “Miss Venderman wanted to know where you was in PE. I had to cover for you. Said you’d been sick in the toilets and gone to the nurse’s office.”

  “Thanks,” I say. (So much for the note from my mum, Josh, I think bitterly.)

  “Don’t mention it,” she says, looking away. She offers me a licorice twist, which I take gratefully. The sharp taste reminds me I haven’t had one for months. “So where was you?” she says.

  “Don’t tell me. The netball team fell apart without me?”

  Jade gives me one of her sudden, warm grins. “Well, not really. Did you blow it off? Respect. Wish I could’ve.” She stares at me. “You did, didn’t you? You cheeky cow, you blew it off! It’s to do with the Weirdos, innit?”

  “What did you want to tell me?” I ask, avoiding the question.

  Jade glances around. There’s a few older boys smoking in a huddle, and in the other direction a crowd of girls trading Zillah Zim cards. Some kids from our class are giggling and gossiping on the wall. She grabs my arm and pulls me around behind the garbage bins.

  “Ow!” I rub my elbow.

  “Sorry. It’s just . . .” Jade looks down at the playground, as if unsure quite how to speak to me.

  “Look, my telepathy isn’t very advanced,” I say. “You’re going to have to use your voice.”

  She looks up, openmouthed.

  “That was a joke, Jade. So come on. Out with it.”

  She bites her lip, peers around the bins one more time to check we are not being listened to. “I’m worried about you,” she says.

  “About me? Really?”

  “You don’t look well,” she says. “You taken a look at yourself, recent-like?”

  I run a hand through my hair. “I feel fine, Jade. Really, I do.”

  Jade flips a mirror out of her pocket and holds it in front of my face. I look at my wobbling reflection. I suppose I do look a bit gray, and my eyes are sleepy hollows. My hair is hanging down in limp strands, too.

  “Somethin’s botherin’ you, ain’t it?” Jade asks. “Somethin’ big. I bet it’s to do with them.”

  “Them?”

  “Yeah. Them Weirdos.” Jade lifts her hands and makes her fingers into claws. “You’ve not been the same since you started hanging round with them.”

  “I’m really fine, okay?”

  She scowls. “If you’re sure. It’s just that . . . you don’t seem to have much time for your normal mates anymore.”

 
“Look,” I say, “let’s talk after school.” I hesitate. “Maybe at your place . . . ?”

  Jade’s smile vanishes. “That wouldn’t be cool.”

  “Oh. Sorry . . . I just thought —”

  She shakes her head firmly. “Me mum and dad, they . . . well, they, like I said, they work at home. Don’t like me bringing friends back.”

  “Right,” I say uncertainly. “Okay.”

  That’s a bit different from the other day, then. What’s changed?

  The bell jangles, and we have to go back inside.

  HOUSEMAN BOULEVARD: MONDAY 15:37

  I’m following Jade home. I don’t like what I’m doing, but I have to make her realize I do still want to be her friend, only it’s complicated. But I also want to know why she didn’t invite me back to her house. What’s going on?

  Keeping her in sight, I hurry along Houseman Boulevard, the two-lane highway near the sea. There’s Craghollow Park on one side, and hotels and nice houses lining the other. It’s got wide walkways bordered by neat grass shoulders.

  Jade is up ahead on the curve of the road, just where it heads down into town. I’m not going to catch up to her in time to see which way she goes.

  I pick up my pace, and close the gap between us to a few hundred yards. And then I see her swing right at the statue of Queen Victoria, cutting into the park entrance under the canopy of chestnut trees. She’s heading across Craghollow Park, striding quickly toward the exit on the far side that leads to the Millennium Estate, and now I’ve got this idea in the back of my head, one that I think is going to turn out to be right.

  As I leave the park, I’m just in time to see Jade turn down into the tree-shaded boulevard of Shelley Drive. My instinct is looking good.

  I hurry to the corner by the street sign and watch from the shadow of the hedge.

  Jade gets her key out. She’s going up the long drive of a big, redbrick, turreted building that dominates this side of the road. I watch her go up the steps to the front door, put her key in the lock, and go inside.