Peak Plague Mystery Read online

  ‘Hello.’

  ‘Oh Martin! You startled me.’

  ‘Sorry, are you okay? You looked… well, a little shocked.’

  ‘I, um, yes I’m fine.’ Rebecca closed her hands together, her thumb rubbing against the palm of her other hand as she felt its dampness. ‘I’m struggling with that computer programming that Mr Joins set, and well, you’re good at that. I was hoping you could help me.’

  ‘You know I will. What’s really the matter?’ replied Martin.

  ‘Oh, well, it’s just all those people around you. I um, I didn’t want them to get the wrong idea.’

  ‘Rebecca, I know you better than that. You don’t worry about what other people think!’

  Rebecca shifted. ‘Perhaps you don’t know me. Perhaps you only think you do.’ Rebecca’s eyes looked deeply into his and she saw disappointment.

  Martin moved a strand of hair that had fallen across her eye, his fingers drifting around the back of her ear as he continued.

  ‘No problem. it’s late now but we can look at it together tomorrow after lessons.’

  ‘Right, tomorrow then,’ whispered Rebecca, and she left for the sanctuary of her dormitory.

  The next evening after classes had ended, Rebecca stood at the entrance to the computer room. She watched patterns on the wall cascading with the sun flowing through the end corridor window and dancing on the dull, straw-coloured paint, but she remained alone. Odd, she thought, as Martin had never been late or missed a meeting with her before. Had she misread the signals? She waited ten minutes before heading off.

  Pushing open the door that led to the tutor class corridor, she heard the muffled sound of music playing inside the ground floor common room. On entering, the clarity and volume of the music changed. She winced. A group sat in a corner at an isolated table doing homework. She wondered how they could possibly construct a sensible piece of work amidst the din. On the left she saw Catherine Banks. Catherine was wearing a bright pink and pastel green all-in-one suit, copious accessorised costume jewellery, and her long flowing dark hair also boasted colourful additions.

  ‘Hi Catherine. Have you seen Martin?’ asked Rebecca.

  ‘He’s been out of lessons this afternoon, not feeling well, so he left around lunchtime to see Dr Kovac. I’ve not seen him since,’ replied Catherine.

  Rebecca looked away, clutching her folder tightly.

  ‘I’m sure he’ll be fine. He’ll probably be back tomorrow,’ said Catherine, as she gently touched Rebecca’s arm.

  ‘Right, well thanks,’ Rebecca replied and left the room.

  Moments later Rebecca knocked on the staffroom door.

  ‘Yes, come in.’

  Brian Lambert sat at his desk. Not the stereotypical teacher, he was rather unkempt, with determined eyes and dressed as he often was in outdoor gear.

  ‘Hello, Rebecca,’ he said, turning around in his swivel chair to face her and leaning back slightly.

  Rebecca fought against allowing her stress to show.

  ‘Oh… Mr Lambert, I… I was wondering if you could tell me whether Martin is okay, Martin Holloway. Apparently he left school today feeling poorly,’ Rebecca said, her hand now unconsciously rubbing the seam of her skirt.

  ‘Yes, yes. He’s fine, just some bug he’s picked up. I’m sure he’ll be back before you know it.’

  ‘Do you know where he is? Can I go and visit? I could take him some grapes.’ Rebecca’s words spilled out.

  ‘I’m afraid not, Rebecca. He’s in the sick bay next door; just a precaution you understand. We have to be careful in our tight-knit little community. These bugs can spread fast and we don’t want the entire school off now, do we?’

  Rebecca looked at him, a little more confidence creeping in. She tilted her head slightly with a pleading look.

  ‘Martin is in safe hands. Let’s just say we have to be seen to be proactive in these situations. As I said, he’ll be back soon so don’t worry about him. Now, if that’s all, I need to complete my reports.’

  THURSDAY 3 JUNE 2010

  Again Rebecca stood motionless, a stealth-like figure amidst the furnishings. A mingled smell of foot odour and polish filled the air from the discarded footwear beneath the stairs. She thought about Martin. He had looked thin and pasty. She remembered him glancing in her direction, smiling at her as his classmates fussed around him on his return. Relief had flowed through her, the voice in her head saying, ‘thank God he’s okay’. Her inquisitive nature would need to be quelled.

  She moved around, peering down the corridor leading past the kitchen. She took another look and after so many weeks was finally rewarded. A familiar figure drifted in, straight from the main entrance across to the kitchen door, a swift move that could easily have been missed in the blink of an eye. A buzz of heat flowed through her and she found it difficult to think.

  Some short moments later, her heart still pounding, she found the strength to move out with a plan. Just as she started to leave, a noise from the main entrance halted her advance. She watched Brian Lambert stride towards the kitchen door that had been left slightly ajar. He pushed it open and entered. Rebecca gingerly moved closer so she could hear but remain concealed.

  ‘And?’ said Brian.

  ‘And you will have to trust me,’ replied the intruder.

  ‘That’s not fair,’ replied Brian.

  ‘I need to save lives and this has nothing to do with you.’

  ‘It has everything to do with me. I need an explanation,’ said Brian.

  ‘Not here, not now.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Maybe… tomorrow.’

  ‘Not good enough,’ said Brian, his voice edgy but determined.

  ‘Definitely tomorrow.’

  ‘If you don’t, it’s over. Is that clear?’ Brian came out, closing the door behind him and leaving through the main entrance.

  A sense of stillness ensued and the quiet bade her remain hidden. A few minutes passed before the tall thin figure returned to the foyer. He entered a code on the electric panel and left via the sick bay door.

  The next evening Rebecca found Martin in one of the study rooms off the classroom corridor.

  ‘Hi Martin. How are you now?’

  ‘Still a little weak, if I’m honest,’ he said, placing his hands in his pockets and Rebecca thought he was trying to look casual.

  ‘That’s not surprising, but you’re okay?’ she enquired, concern simmering under the surface.

  ‘Enough about me,’ said Martin, ‘what are you up to?’

  ‘Well, I’ve thought about doing a project as part of our maths statistics work; make it more interesting and practical.’

  ‘Really,’ said Martin in a raised tone. ‘And how do you propose to do that?’

  ‘I’m going to look at schools in the area, including this one, and plot school absences, compare the number of school days missed. See if there are any trends,’ she said.

  Martin’s eyebrows lifted.

  ‘That’s great. What gave you that idea?’

  ‘Well, you, of course,’ she said. ‘Has anyone in your class taken ill?’

  ‘No one in my class, but my friend Guy Weaver may have the same bug.’ Martin’s eyes glazed. ‘I’ve never felt so poorly. It makes you feel weak, all bunged up and sweating, yet you’re cold all at the same time.’

  Rebecca looked at him before asking, ‘When did Guy go off sick?’

  ‘Just today, I think… why?’

  ‘I can add that to my stats project. And you were off for four days?’ she asked, looking at him for confirmation.

  ‘No, six. The annoying part was that male nurse. I find him a little weird. He constantly asked whether I was feeling better. Talk about getting on your nerves.’

  Martin’s attention drifted again as though an image was displayed behind her.

  ‘Then he wanted samples. So embarrassing.’

  ‘Samples?’ enquired Rebecca.

  ‘Yeah, well,’ he started to go red, ‘you know,’ he lowered his voice. ‘Urine and,’ he paused, ‘the other.’

  ‘Right,’ said Rebecca, and reading Martin’s discomfort she changed the subject, but she remained with him for a short while before making an excuse to leave. It was getting close to the hour before supper and that meant her surveillance time would begin again.

  SATURDAY 10 JULY 2010

  Rebecca ventured into the village to send a letter to her aunt. She looked across the three shop fronts and approached the tiny central post office, but before reaching the door, she spotted Mr Lambert leaving the newsagent’s. He was holding hands with a woman. They were looking at each other and giggling over a private joke.

  ‘Hello, Rebecca. This is Miss Harper. Stacey, Rebecca,’ he introduced.

  ‘Mr Lambert,’ Rebecca replied, as her heart thumped.

  ‘Rebecca,’ he said, lowering his voice as though parting with a secret. ‘Stacey will be working at our school.’

  Rebecca looked at Miss Harper’s pale skin and bright red hair, both emphasised by the sun. She forced a smile, but Miss Harper remained fixed on Brian.

  ‘Brian, stop. Don’t be so mysterious. I only agreed to help out part time at the school. You promised me your father…’ She stopped mid-sentence. Miss Harper turned to look at Rebecca and continued, ‘Well, Rebecca, see you at school.’

  In the darkness of a clinical laboratory, the smallest of midges buzzed around a pure space. A totally inconceivable parasite within a vat of nothingness, apart from one corner where, within a locked box, there lay potential sustenance. Determination filled the smallest of minds imaginable as a mystic yet barely detectable odour emanated from a tiny cell. Just how the insect procured access would remain unknown, along with its exit strategy. But it did. It had been successful. Yersinia pestis X1 moved microscopically around its new space. Cells a thousand times smaller than the human eye could distinguish lay hidden within a parasite’s gut. Its host was oblivious to its new cargo, giving it time to spread, grow and survive. Within minutes the tiny mind of the flying insect clicked to feed mode.

  Roger, the school’s Golden Glavcot rabbit, wriggled its nose as it sucked in the evening air and his ears gave an involuntary flap. The dark fur barely moved as a tiny insect penetrated the surface of its newly found food source, sinking its feeder to quench its natural desire. But the smaller parasite within had other ideas. Its skill was to block the passage of digestion. The insect was replete, yet remained hungry. Devouring further fresh fluid, it then released its full capacity in an act of vomiting. Deadly bacteria flowed over the newly opened wound. It was free at last while the remaining particles were engrained within the gut of the insect, to be carried to the next innocent host.

  As Rebecca walked around the school grounds later that evening, there was a lingering warmth and an orange glow silhouetted the trees on the school boundary. She reflected on the doctor. What was he doing? The weight of knowledge was overbearing.

  As she approached the rear of the school she heard a banging sound, not to any rhythm but spasmodic. She saw the source as she moved around the edge of a low wall. Roger, the school rabbit, was jumping and kicking oddly, clearly distressed. Warily she stepped up to his hutch.

  ‘What’s the matter, Roger?’ She looked back across the grounds as though expecting to see a fox then returned her gaze, bending lower to look more closely. The rabbit carried on flipping and bouncing around his enclosure, and then two things happened. Roger leaped forward, hitting the front of the cage, causing Rebecca to jump back, taking an involuntary breath as she did so. She felt something hit the back of her throat. The sensation set off an instant fit of coughing. She leaned over hand on knee, willing herself to be calm, to breathe slowly and take in air. She retreated to the nearest toilet and drank copious amounts of water using nothing but her cupped hands.

  SUNDAY 11 JULY 2010

  The next morning she awoke to pain. Her chest burned. Her head felt confused and she ached. Her joints felt as if they had been replaced with sandpaper. Panic overwhelmed her as a coughing fit began. It was violent and raw, the soreness in her throat unbearable. Completely alone, she pulled a jumper on over her pyjama top, the seams and the tightness sensitive against her skin. She concentrated hard to lift her jeans to her waist as her tension increased and she collapsed in a heap on the floor. She tried to remember what Martin had described, although she was sure he hadn’t mentioned difficulty in moving.

  She staggered into the foyer of the health centre. A male nurse was flitting around as Rebecca stumbled forwards.

  ‘There’s no surgery today. Come back tomorrow and make an appointment with Doctor Kovac,’ said Nurse Stephen.

  ‘I can barely move,’ wheezed Rebecca.

  He looked at her as she clutched the back of a chair. ‘Can you describe your symptoms?’

  ‘I ache… so weak.’

  ‘Why are you on your own?’

  ‘It’s Sunday,’ she breathed. ‘They must’ve gone on the walk.’

  Rebecca coughed. Small red spots of blood speckled her hand.

  The nurse froze, his eyes fixed on the girl’s outstretched fingers. He grabbed a chair.

  ‘Sit,’ he said, and examined her. Seconds later he snatched the phone, fumbling as he pressed numbers. ‘Hello, Bence, is that you? Listen, I have a girl in reception. She’s –’ he looked across to determine whether Rebecca was listening then lowered his voice. ‘I believe she’s extremely ill. I wouldn’t call otherwise, Bence. She’s coughing up blood.’

  Rebecca watched him, straining to absorb words.

  ‘Yes, well, she’s complaining of aching, weakness and looks white, more grey, and I can see patches on her skin, below the neck, a dark red. No, blue to black in colour.’ A pause then the nurse’s eyes widened. ‘Okay, okay, I hear you. Yes, I will. Yes, I said I will.’

  The nurse clicked off the phone and walked to a cupboard. Rebecca imagined him retrieving medication, tablets or perhaps an injection. He took out a white box, extracted something from it and applied a mask to his long, thin face. Finally he added gloves, pulling and stretching each finger into its folds.

  Rebecca felt numb. The pain was reaching proportions beyond endurance. Her mind swam with visions of Martin and her aunt, wishing she were with her now. She watched the nurse locking the front door and she thought he said the doctor was coming. Then, against her will, she passed out.

  MONDAY 12 JULY 2010 – 01:30

  A mist carrying an odour of bleach wafted from a small narrow space as intense flames engulfed it with ferocious devastation. Inside, an isolated figure – one that had long since left this world.

  TWO

  DALE SCHOOL

  THURSDAY 9 JULY 2015

  A shrill, ear-piercing sound rang through the corridors of Dale School as Jason Palmer, the youngest person in the school by two years, shook a traditional brass bell with an ornate wooden handle. He methodically ran around each dormitory, classroom and lounge area announcing mealtime. He was always the bell ringer on his class’s duty week. There was only a momentary lapse prior to the thunderous sound of feet hammering on the stairs and travelling down various corridors.

  The smell of hot food and the heat of the kitchen hit Adam Brant through the serving hatch as he used a folded tea towel to grab one of the stainless steel tubs. Along with Adele Martel, a French student, with long dark hair, brown eyes and naturally tanned skin, they delivered hot beef and vegetable stew to five circular tables. Looking across, Adam saw Jason return with the school bell, red-faced and panting.

  ‘Jason, grab one of the gravy pots for our table, please.’ Adam returned to the serving hatch. ‘Chloe, you and the others should go and start your dinner. We can finish taking out the tubs. Then you’ll be ready to start clearing away.’

  ‘I’ll be glad when this week’s over,’ replied Chloe.

  ‘Only two more days and then we’re off,’ said Adele, smiling widely as she took a tub of boiled potatoes.

  Adam and Adele joined the others some short moments later at their table. Adam was marginally the tallest in his class. He had an olive-toned complexion with freckles sprinkled around his nose. His long blonde hair offended some teachers. His stomach growled as he ladled food onto his plate.

  ‘Only one day left on duty then our week’s done for some time,’ he said.

  ‘Try ten weeks,’ said Adele.

  ‘Really?’ replied Adam, as he stabbed a steaming potato from the tub and flicked it onto his plate.

  ‘Think about it. We have refreshment week next week at High Peak School, then six weeks summer, then because of the duty group rotor being four, we’ll have three weeks when we return,’ she explained rationally.

  Refreshment week was always a welcome end to the school year: a whole week jam-packed with exciting activities.

  ‘They’ll have us cooking this stuff before long,’ said Jason, tugging at a particularly gristly section of beef with his fork and separating it from the remainder of his food.

  ‘Don’t be so melodramatic. Of course they won’t,’ said Adam.

  ‘It’s just those wet activities that put me off, making us do that barrel roll in the canoes, and the waters are fast flowing at times,’ said Chloe.

  ‘Random warning,’ sang Adam.

  ‘I was just thinking about refreshment week, Adam,’ she said scornfully to her twin brother. Apart from the shape of their noses and chin line, the two looked nothing alike. Chloe had a fair complexion, like that of a painted porcelain doll. Her green eyes and full lips, coupled with hair that had tight natural curls, gave her a slightly Afro-Caribbean look. She nearly always wore a wide black hair band to tame the frizz.