was, Drake knew, that he was neither of those things.
“OK,” Mel gasped, stepping back. She glanced sideways at Drake. “Explain this one. Now.”
“He’s a robot,” Drake told her.
“A robot?”
“In the cupboard. Dr Black must’ve done something to the real one and let the robot take his place.”
Mel frowned. “But wouldn’t that mean...?”
They both turned to look at the other two bullies. Circles of red light flickered on in the dark centres of Dim and Spud’s eyes.
Down on the floor, Bingo’s mouth pulled into an electric snarl. “Kill them,” he commanded. “Kill them both!”
“Move!” Drake yelped. Catching Mel by the arm he jumped the final few steps. Using Bingo’s chest as a springboard, they raced along the corridor towards the fire exit.
Dim and Spud bent over and wrapped their hands round their own ankles. The lines of their backs curved to form two almost perfect circles and they rolled, like hula hoops, down the stairs.
Drake pushed down the bar of the fire exit and the door swung wide. A piercing alarm began to scream, drawing the attention of the hundred or so kids dotted around the concrete rectangle before them.
“Get out of the way!” Drake bellowed, as he and Mel spilled out of the school. “Move, it’s not safe, it’s not—”
A crashing sound drowned him out. The spinning circles that were Spud and Dim punched through the walls on either side of the door, spraying chunks of stone and slivers of glass. The school grounds were filled with the sound of screaming as Spud and Dim pursued Drake and Mel across the concrete.
Drake sprinted on, pushing his way through the panicked masses, pulling Mel behind him. The robots were too fast. There was no way he could outrun them. He had to dodge round the crowds, but Dim and Spud ploughed through them, scattering schoolkids like skittles.
Frantically, Drake shoved two fingers in his mouth and blew. Air hissed out like a slow puncture. The spinning hoops were almost upon them now. “Come on,” Drake pleaded. “Just whistle!”
He blew again. There was no sound, but suddenly a horse was there, rearing up in front of them, sending the school yard into even greater chaos.
Fluid dripped from the white horse’s mouth, and from its eyes, and from the weeping sores that covered its flanks. Pestilence slid down from the saddle, and pulled Drake and Mel in behind him. Then he faced the rapidly approaching bullies, and did the last thing Drake would have expected.
He took off his rubber gloves.
The two bullies spun to a stop and straightened up in front of him. Pest held his hands up, palms facing them.
“Tell me, gents, do you know what ‘Guinea Worm Disease’ is?” he asked.
Dim and Spud didn’t reply.
“It’s a rather unfortunate medical condition that results in a metre-long worm growing inside your stomach, then chewing its way out through the nearest available exit. It’s not contagious.” Pestilence looked at both of his hands in turn. “Usually.”
Drake tapped him on the shoulder. “Uh, Pest...”
“One second, Drake,” Pestilence said. “I was just about to share something with your friends here.”
“But, Pest, you don’t—”
“Leave this to me, Drake. I do know what I’m doing.”
He pressed his hands against the bullies’ foreheads. A sickly green glow spread out from his palm and fingertips. Dim and Spud stared at him, their faces impassive. Pestilence’s delicate features creased into a frown.
“That’s what I was trying to tell you,” Drake said. “Techno-magic mumbo jumbo. They’re robots.”
Pestilence’s face went several shades paler. “Robots? Ah, so is that how they did the spinny thing? I did wonder.” He withdrew his hands. “Wasting my time with that, then,” he said. He smiled nervously. “We should probably go.”
“One step ahead of you, Uncle Bob,” Mel said. She was sitting on the horse, towards the back of the saddle. Pest leaped up in front of her, and they both pulled Drake up between them.
“Hold on,” Pest warned. Drake felt Mel’s hands on his waist. They gripped him tightly as she pulled herself close against his back.
Pestilence flicked the reins, and the world around them became a streak of speed.
“Hey, Chief,” Mel said into Drake’s ear.
“Yeah?”
She tightened her grip round his waist. “Your family is frickin’ nuts.”
THE HORSE RACED through a row of back gardens, leaping the hedges and fences between them with practised ease. Despite the animal’s performance, though, Mel was concerned.
“I think your horse needs a vet,” she said, as they all ducked under a washing line. “He’s bleeding out of, well, everywhere.”
“Yeah, he does that,”