The 13th Horseman - By Barry Hutchison Page 0,68

I’m a killer. I’ve killed hundreds of people in the past decade alone. Thousands. And why?”

He opened his mouth to answer his own question, then paused. “I don’t know, really,” he admitted. “Practice, I suppose. I am – was – Death, after all. And also because I was bored, and I couldn’t face one more bloody game of Cluedo.” He pointed at Drake. “You, on the other hand, have killed what? Half a dozen frogs?”

“Nine,” Drake corrected. “I killed nine frogs.”

Mr Franks clapped his hands slowly. “Bravo. Truly you are Death incarnate. But, please, let an old hand show you how it should be done.”

He pushed a slider switch on the control deck and the blue glow inside the dome became agitated. It buzzed and trembled, hurling itself at the glass, but unable to find a way through.

“There’s a whole world out there waiting to be destroyed,” Mr Franks said. “Let’s not keep it waiting any longer.”

He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a large white napkin. He flicked it once to unfold it, then tied it loosely at the back of his neck. “If you’ll excuse me,” he said, patting his stomach, “I’ve got a rather pressing lunch appointment.”

DRAKE LOOKED OVER at Mel, hanging above a sheer drop to certain death. He looked at Mr Franks, now adjusting switches and dials on his control deck, making the souls in the bowl quiver and writhe. The teacher hummed quietly below his breath as he worked, a song so ancient no other human alive had heard it.

Slowly, Drake slid one foot a few centimetres across the floor. The thudding of the robot’s footsteps had stopped, which meant that the robot itself had stopped. This was a pity because the sound of the footfalls would have disguised the faint squeak Drake’s own foot made as he inched it across the metal.

“One millimetre closer and your girlfriend drops,” Mr Franks told him. He looked up and fixed Drake with a glare. “You look tense. Relax.”

Drake slunk back a pace.

“You still don’t look relaxed. You look like someone who’s about to attempt a daring, last-minute rescue, and that would be stupid.”

Drake let his shoulders sag and his arms hang limply at his sides. He stuffed his hands into the robe’s deep pockets. “That better?”

“Much,” Mr Franks replied. He turned his attention back to the control deck. Beside him, the glass dome was filled with an angry blue fire. “I’m doing you a favour when you think about it, Drake. I’m giving you the opportunity to fulfil your purpose. An opportunity that was taken from me. You should be thanking me.”

“Don’t hold your breath.”

Drake’s fingers brushed against something in his right pocket. He felt for the edges, trying to figure out what it was. Round. Hard. Then his finger pricked against something sharp and he knew at once what to do.

“Those frogs we were talking about,” he said, surprising Mr Franks and getting his attention.

“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 glass 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 glass.

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 passed by him and struck the soul bowl dead centre.

And then it bounced harmlessly off, and landed on the metal floor with a faint chink.

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