Marlow stood outside Victor G. Rosemount High School in the sweltering heat, trying to work out why he felt so lost.
Because you’ve got nowhere to go, his brain told him. Nobody wants you.
The words stung, but only because they were true. This place had kicked him out, and his mom would happily trade him in for the son she’d lost ten years ago. Danny may have been dead, but Marlow was the ghost. Even here people streamed past him like they couldn’t see him, nobody so much as acknowledging his presence.
Except one—the merest glimpse of a familiar face, the same girl half-lost in the crowd, then gone before Marlow could make sense of it.
Hold it together, man, he told himself.
He wanted to find Charlie, if only to prove that he still existed. He needed someone to talk to, to try to make sense of everything that had happened. Things may have been about as crap as they could be but Charlie would crack a joke and they would laugh and at least he’d feel like a real person again. Besides, however bad his life was Charlie’s had been worse, and there was nothing like perspective to make you feel a little less sorry for yourself.
With no cell, though, he needed to fetch him in person. He pulled his inhaler from his pocket and squeezed two shots into his mouth, grimacing against the bitter taste. His lungs crackled and he rubbed his chest until they eased. Then he walked across the road to the locked gates. He jabbed his thumb against the intercom button. Seconds later the school receptionist answered.
“It’s, um … I’m late, sorry, need to get in.”
“Name?”
“Mar—” he started, then, “Charlie Alvarez.”
There was a pause, then the gates buzzed and he pushed his way through. He decided against the lobby and cut around the side of the main building. He entered through the fire door that never latched properly, clattering up the stairwell and along an empty corridor. He had to peer into three classrooms before he found the right one. Charlie was sitting in the middle of the room, lost in a daze, pen between his teeth. Marlow knocked softly, then pushed open the door. Everybody turned to him, and Charlie’s eyes just about popped free of his head.
The teacher—Marlow couldn’t remember her name—folded her arms across her chest.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” she said.
“Yeah,” he replied, scratching his head. “About that. You don’t have to worry, it’s all sorted. Mr. Caputo apologized to me, actually commissioned me to decorate the rest of his car.”
“Nice try,” she said. “Now leave. You know what happens when you’re on school premises without permission.”
By the time she’d finished Charlie was out of his seat and halfway across the room.
“I’d better go see what the trouble is,” he said as he reached the door.
She protested some more, but Charlie just flashed her one of his grins and closed the door behind him.
“What the hell, dude?” he said, grabbing Marlow’s arm and hauling him down the corridor. “Where have you been?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he replied, leaning in close and keeping his voice low. Charlie reeled back, waving his hand in front of his face.
“Wouldn’t believe you? Jesus, Marlow, I can smell it. You could fuel a goddamned power station with those fumes.”
“It’s not…” Marlow covered his mouth self-consciously. “It’s not what it looks like, Charlie. I was drugged.”
“What?”
“By these guys. They injected me with alcohol.” He shook his head to try to clear his thoughts. Nothing was making sense up there, the last couple of days a storm of dream-like half-memories. Charlie’s eyebrow just about shot off the top of his head.
“They injected you … with whiskey? You okay? Did they…?”
Marlow realized what he was asking.
“No! No way, dude. It’s because I saw something. I was there, at the hospital.”
“The one the terrorists blew up?” Charlie said.
“What?” Marlow said.
“It’s all over CNN, man. The cops got there before they could do too much damage. Some wacko cell is claiming responsibility. You saying terrorists made you get drunk?”
“No, wait.” Marlow looked back, saw the demons ripping themselves from the walls, the girl with the hole in her heart. “That’s not what happened. They weren’t terrorists.”
He heard a door opening, the hammer of distant footsteps.
“There were these people, and these … I don’t know, creatures I guess.”
“Creatures?” Charlie actually took a step back. “Listen, Marlow, I don’t know what you’ve been on but—”
“I’m not on anything,” he spat back.
Charlie spluttered out a sigh.
“Look, I get it, Marlow. This is how you deal with things. You burn up and take off. But you got to get it under control, dude. I’m serious, you sound crazy.”
“I’m not crazy,” he started, and would have said more if the intercom hadn’t fizzed to life.
“Please listen carefully,” said a voice that Marlow recognized instantly as the principal’s. “The school is currently in lockdown. We request that all students remain inside their classrooms. Staff, this is a code orange. Please ensure that all doors are secured.”
“What’s going on?” Marlow said. “What’s a code orange?”
“I have no idea,” Charlie replied. “But I’m guessing it’s you.”
“Me?”
The sound of footsteps grew louder and the door at the end of the corridor exploded outward, the giant shape of Yogi lumbering through as fast as his fat legs would let him. It only took him a second to see Marlow, and when he did he started fumbling at the Taser on his belt.
“Yeah,” said Charlie. “I’m pretty sure it’s you.”
“Stop!” Yogi roared, ripping the weapon from its holster. His other hand held a radio. “He’s in east wing, level two. No weapon in sight.”
“Weapon?” Marlow said, frowning. Yogi was jogging toward them, everything jiggling. “What’s he talking about?”
“I have no idea,” Charlie replied, backing away. “But if I were you, I’d start running.”
He didn’t need to be told twice, sprinting after Charlie toward the far end of the corridor. They burst through the double doors, skidding around the corner into the stairwell. Caputo must have seen Marlow entering the gates, probably thought he was here for payback. He didn’t blame him. Victor G. Rosemount was the kind of place where payback could be brutal.
“Where are you going?” he asked Charlie, feeling the monster start to squeeze its fingers around his throat. “And why are you running?”
Charlie grinned back at him.
“Gotta be more exciting than geography, right?”
They punched through the doors at the bottom of the stairs, running out into the main school corridor. Yogi was still behind them, grunting like an injured bear, and Marlow took the lead, splitting right, heading toward the way out. He smashed through the final set of fire doors into the lobby, the sun so bright there that it was like a flashbang going off in his face. He slammed into something big, spinning to a halt and panting for breath.
Two school cops stood between him and the way out. They weren’t as big as Yogi—nobody was as big as Yogi—but there were Tasers in their hands and murder in their eyes. Marlow froze, lifting his arms over his head in surrender. Charlie flapped to a halt beside him, his sneakers squeaking on the floor. Yogi appeared behind them, growling, at the same time that Caputo stepped out of his office door.
“You shouldn’t have come back, Marlow,” the principal said, hovering behind one of the guards. “You have just violated your contract with the school and broken the law. The city police have been notified.”
“Whoa,” he said, coughing out phlegm. “Don’t give yourself an aneurism, I just came to see him.” He tipped his head at Charlie.
“Yes, sure.” The man sneered. His lips moved as he carried on speaking but Marlow didn’t hear it, his head suddenly full of noise. It was a sound like breaking china—as though somebody was walking across broken glass. He clamped his hands to his ears, gritting his teeth against it.
What is that? he said, or maybe didn’t. Caputo’s face was turning red, the principal jabbing a finger at him, his words drowned out by that infernal noise. Behind him the school doors opened. Marlow glanced up, squinting against the pain, against the light, to see the girl walk in—the one he’d seen outside the cop shop, the one who had followed him here. A girl he didn’t know, but who seemed so familiar.
“Hello, Marlow,” she said, smiling right at him.
And that’s when all hell broke loose.