CHAPTER 10

Of course they’re asleep! Molly’s voice says. What do you think I am? Some kind of assassin?

I don’t know what to think anymore! I yell in my head.

Calm down, or I’ll have to do the same to you, Molly says. Look, here’s the deal. Like I said, the Ecens are good trackers. But the bonus is they don’t share nicely. They won’t tell anyone else they’ve found you, not even other Ecens, until they’ve captured you. They operate in pairs, so it will only be these two. For now. But these two – well, they’ll keep coming back. I thought if we were on soil that they might lose their trace …

I butt in now. What are you blathering on about? Soil? We were on ‘soil’ yesterday. At Ethan’s. They found us just fine then.

Actually, we weren’t on soil. We were hovering above Teros. In our bubble. But whatever.

And that’s when we really get going.

Oh, silly me. I didn’t realise we were on another planet. In our bubble.

Well, you weren’t to know.

Yes, after all, I’m just some halfwit who comes from Morillius, right?

Well, now that you mention it, you come from Earth. There is no Morillius. Morillius is something I made up. Just for you. To look like Earth.

Earth? What’s Earth? Some other planet? Why would anyone want to lie about what planet I come from? And what’s the point in it looking the same and you changing the name?

Because it’s different. It’s similar, but different. Earth is where you were born, but we had to leave. And, someday, if I ever get to take you back to Earth, I want you to know the difference between here and there, that’s why!

What?

Look, forget about it! Right now we have bigger problems!

Oh, and I noticed you didn’t contradict me when I said halfwit.

No.

So, when you were sent to protect me, was ‘rude’ on the actual job description, or did you just throw it in for free?

It’s complimentary. Look, I know this is all a lot to take in. I’ll try to explain better later. After I’ve dealt with the Ecens. Or maybe I won’t, if someone else turns up unexpectedly to wring your little neck. Now, stop arguing with me, because I’ve got to get rid of these Ecens. Properly this time.

I look at all the ‘sleeping’ bodies littered around the backyard and I gulp. Okay, so maybe this is a little more serious than I originally thought. I remember Molly’s comment from yesterday afternoon, ‘Xbox and certain death?’ What are you going to do? I ask her.

What I have to do. And you’re going to do exactly as I tell you to, as well. So, on the count of three, I want you to hit the floor. Understand? Right. One, two …

But I don’t need the countdown for some reason, because before Molly even begins, it’s like my body knows what to do and tells me to get down. Now. There’s that ticking noise in my head again that has me on the floor before Molly gets to ‘two’. It’s exactly like that feeling I had yesterday at Ethan’s, right before Molly did that booming thing. And I don’t care if any cameras finally emerge. If this is a prank it’s the most spectacular one anyone’s ever pulled off and Molly will totally deserve her moment of victory on screen.

Just after she says, three, there’s another gigantic boom. Louder and stronger than the one yesterday. Whiter and brighter, too. It quite literally takes my breath away. Lying on the deck, my lungs don’t work for a moment or two. And when they do, they take a huge suck of breath that leads to a bout of coughing.

Silence.

Molly? I try.

More silence.

Molly?

‘You can get up now,’ she says finally, out loud, sounding as winded as I am. She coughs as well, then coughs again. ‘Ugh, this stupid body. Such a ridiculous thing to live inside. I mean, lungs, really …’

I get up then, as fast as I can, which isn’t that fast because I’m shaky again, like yesterday. When I start down the steps into the yard, I realise everyone is standing up again. And, amazingly, they look fine, like nothing has happened. There’s Freya, from school, happily taking another hot dog from Dad. There’s Matt, another classmate, making his own mucus (well, throwing his own mucus at one of his friends). And there’s Ethan, standing next to Mum, by the cake, which is resting on a table.

Or what’s left of the cake.

Because the cake, it seems, has disintegrated in the blast. And now it is mostly plastered over Mum and Ethan. They are covered in kitty litter. The plastic scoop, smeared with – well, let’s call it chocolate icing – is wedged in my mum’s hair, and there are fragments spread around the backyard. Jack is licking them up, but looking kind of disgusted with himself – like he’d really rather not.

I race towards Mum and Ethan.

They’re both staring at the almost empty kitty-litter tray.

‘Awesome cake, Mrs B,’ Ethan says, looking at it. ‘You totally outdid yourself this year!’

‘Well, thank you, Ethan. It was rather …’ she struggles to find the right word.

I look from one to the other in disbelief, as Molly pulls up beside me, her hair singed. ‘Putrid?’ I blurt out, using the exact word Ethan used before.

‘Yeah, that’s it!’ Ethan says, grinning at me, his face brown. ‘How’d you know I was going to say that?’

‘I don’t know,’ I say, shaking my head. ‘I just did.’ And that’s when I get this weird sinking feeling and realise I’ve just landed myself in something bigger and smellier and far more dirty than a kitty-litter cake.