LEITH AND THE LURKING EVIL
Chapter 7: A Punishable Offence

A SCREAM rang out in the distance, piercing the night.

I jumped, along with a hundred other kids.

Dr Grieg’s ears twitched like a terrier’s. His little body went ramrod-stiff. Then he relaxed, seeming to become even smaller. “That’ll be Mr Jekyll,” he smiled. “Checking the print of tonight’s movie. A real knuckle-whitener. And right on cue with the scream, too - except that isn’t Headless Henry over there, it’s just a shadow. Sorry for the false alarm, young ladies and gents. Until tomorrow night, I wish you all sweet dreams!”

He gave a little salute combined with a half-bow and slipped back into the shadows as Ant and Mut led the applause.

“What a story!” gushed Ray to his new friend as we trudged toward the recreation hall. I was so full, I could hardly move.

“Do you think it really is true?” asked the nervous-looking boy, seeming more unsettled than ever.

Ray laughed. “No way that could have happened. Wishes, witches - to fall for that, you’d have to be totally naïve.”

“Smile for Auntie Mut!” Flash. Mut had jumped out in front of them and taken a picture of Ray’s friend. The poor guy nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Chop-chop,” I heard Ant calling. “Don’t want to miss the start of the DVD!”

“I wasn’t scared, but I seen Jane jump!” Broody was bragging.

“I did not,” Jane protested. “That was Pippa!”

“Well,” said my sister, “maybe a little.”

“No need to worry,” said Broody, slipping an arm around the small of her back, “I’m here now.”

“Please,” said Jane, acting like she was going to be sick, “we’ve just eaten!”

“Mind if I cut in?” I asked, pushing in between Broody and Pippa. She seemed relieved, but the Broodster didn’t look too happy to see me.

But there was no time to worry about that. Because as we entered the rec hall, I realised what I had already suspected to be true. That the scream we’d heard had not come from in here. This place was practically soundproof. And you don’t “test the print” if you’re showing a DVD. No, the scream had come from another direction ... and further away.

Somewhere in the vicinity of the Black Bungalow.

The movie was a spooky story called Invasion of the Body Snatchers, about aliens who replace all the people in a small town with lookalike pod people, until there’s only one guy left. He’s the hero, the one you identify with, the one who escapes.

That night, I dreamt I was that guy. And when I heard the cabin door starting to open, I was sure the pod people were coming for me. But as I struggled awake, my fingers locked around my yielding pillow, I saw not someone sneaking in, but someone sneaking out - Broody!

I squinted at my watch. One in the morning. Where was he going - to answer nature’s call? Then I smelt what he was wearing - aftershave! Only one reason a kid nursing his first bad moustache would be wearing aftershave ... he was going to meet a girl.

And I had a funny feeling it would turn out not to be Mut or Mrs Jekyll.

Swinging my feet over the side of my bunk, I dropped to the floor a second after the door clicked shut. I dressed without waking Ray. Through the window, I could see Broody stealing toward the girls’ cabins.

Surprise, surprise, I thought sourly. The rooster trying to get to the chicks.

As I pulled the door shut behind me, I hoped Ray would not wake up and replace himself alone. Poor guy - he’d probably think the pod people had landed! Not that he appeared to have much imagination. He seemed to prefer deconstructing things to building them up. Ray was the kind of kid who had probably never really believed in Santa. It wasn’t logical that one old man could travel so far in one night; and, of course, no way reindeer could fly!

Moonlight painted silver patterns on the grass, slashed through with the thick black shadows of trees and buildings. Broody stuck to the shadows, and I followed. Surprisingly, once he got within striking distance of the girls’ cabins, he veered off to the right, heading in the direction of the campfire. Could it be that he was just slipping out for a midnight snack? Surely no food had been left out. Who knew what it might attract? At least Headless Henry wouldn’t be able to eat any leftovers. But he might be able to throw them. And I didn’t fancy winding up in a food fight with a nogginless night stalker.

Broody reached the circle of bench seats around the cold remains of last night’s fire and looked about as if waiting for a sign. I waited too. But no signal came. Just night sounds.

Crazily, I remembered the dream I’d had on the bus on the way here - the one where I was attacked by mutants. But no cauldron bubbled in the black barbecue area. No brats were being boiled. Uneasily, I glanced into the shadows ... to the place where Dr Grieg had pretended to see Headless Henry.

Nobody. No body.

A night-bird squawked its one-note dirge. I jumped. Again, I scanned the gloom. But it wasn’t Henry I was looking for this time - it was Adam Python. I wondered if he’d perhaps managed to contact Broody while Ant and I were having our little bush-buddy adventure. Maybe that’s who Broody was coming to meet. Maybe he’d put on the aftershave in the hope of seeming more grown up. I hoped Adam wasn’t some kind of dangerous double-crosser, luring Broody out here to supposedly help him, while all the time he meant to do him harm.

I should have brought a weapon. Even a can of insect repellent, something to spray in an attacker’s eyes. In spite of everything, I hadn’t planned for danger. The truth was, I’d feared Broody might be sneaking out to meet my sister. I hadn’t read the situation as potentially risky.

Suddenly, there was a rustling from the shadows - footfalls hurrying through dead leaves.

As I drew back, Broody stepped forward. But it wasn’t the dishevelled Adam Python, bursting with conspiracy theories, who broke cover and went running to him in the moonlight; it was none other than my dear sweet sister!

The best way to deal with temptation is to give in to it, someone had said, and here was Pippa, well and truly giving in to temptation, running to the pushy, boastful boy she’d known for less than a day ... throwing her arms around him - letting him kiss her!

It was too much. I’d like to tell you that I was very clever and cunning and stayed back in the shadows, doing my best impression of Headless Henry, scaring the young lovers apart. But this was no time for the subtle approach. I went in boots and all. Or at least with two bony fists flying and my sneakers kind of kicking.

“Leaf!” yelled Broody, jumping back. “Be cool, man!”

“Be cool?” I was boiling hot.

“Why don’t you make like a leaf - and drop off!”

I felt like the cop whose life was suddenly turned upside-down in Koontz’s Dragon Tears. Maybe that’s an exaggeration. But I felt weird and not in control. I wasn’t sure what I might do next. But I knew I wasn’t about to drop off.

I went for him. So he dropped me. With one punch.

“Bugs!” Pippa sounded hysterical.

“Come on.” He grabbed her arm. “Let’s leave this loser---”

Slap!

She knelt by my side. Broody nursed his stinging cheek. Right on, sis! She’d struck a blow more wounding than any I might have inflicted - a blow to the ego. I saw tears in the dumb brute’s eyes.

In spite of myself and the bellyache he’d given me, I felt sorry for him. Mum had always told me that loudmouthed bullies were really unsure of themselves - that was why they bragged; that was why they hit. Now I had proof. In a crisis, Broody could respond with some knee-jerk act of violence which might work, as it had against Mr Jekyll; but beneath the bluff, the likes of him were nothing but cowards.

Nursing his jaw, Broody shuffled away. Gone was the swagger. For tonight at least, Benson “Broody” Chicken had to realise he was not the cock of the walk.

“You all right, Bugsy?”

When I was four and had been miserable with chickenpox, and Bugs Bunny cartoons had been the only things that would cheer me up, Pippa had nicknamed me Bugsy. I took her hand and she squeezed mine. No one had come between us. The world was still a good, if sometimes scary, place.

“You two - hold it right there!” A torch came bouncing toward us. But even before he became visible behind the light, I’d recognised Ant’s metallic twang. No doubt he would tell us that while he had a Grieg-given right to perform impromptu brain surgery on campers with the blade of an oar, it was strictly verboten for anyone, even brother and sister, to be caught holding hands after lights-out.

“He’s my brother,” said Pippa, flashing her totally-innocent look. Surely she could melt even his cold heart.

“What’s happened?” He crouched down beside me, pulled up my shirt and pressed down gently, feeling every rib. “Nothing broken. Can you stand?”

I smiled gamely.

“Get between your sister and me. Now, try to walk. Good. Slowly, slowly. You know you kids aren’t supposed to be out of your cabins.”

“Are you worried Headless Henry might gobble us up?”

“That’s not funny, young lady.”

“Good story, though,” said Pippa.

“Yes,” said Ant, his eyes flashing red in the moonlight, “and I hope you have one too. I’m sure Dr Grieg will be eager to hear it. As you know, fraternising after lights-out is a punishable offence.”

“I’m told you had some excitement in the wee-small hours.” Dr Grieg drew himself up to his full minuscule height and peered through his Coke-bottle glasses, which reflected the morning light. He reminded me of Danny deVitto playing a mad scientist, complete with Dr Cyclops specs.

“I wouldn’t call it exactly exciting, sir,” I said. Pippa wasn’t with me. Only I had been summoned to the great man’s lair.

Dr Grieg plopped into the overstuffed chair behind his desk. His feet didn’t touch the floor. He might have actually been taller sitting down. Suddenly, he reminded me not so much of Danny deVitto as George Jetson’s boss, Mr Spacely.

“I warn you, young man, do not mock me.”

“I didn’t mean to, sir.”

“Well, you’ll smirk on the other side of that freckly face of yours when I tell you what’s happened to the Chicken boy. Mut picked him up on her rounds last night. He told her what occurred - he was practically crowing about it. Well, maybe you’d like done to you what’s being done to him - eh, boy?”

“What are you doing to him?”

“Got your attention now, don’t I? You’re dying to know. Even more than you were dying to know the ending to the story I told last night, the one about Henry and the witch.” Dr Grieg smiled maliciously. “Even though you caught him attempting to fraternise with your sister, and he gave you one in the bread-basket and might have inflicted serious injury, you still feel sorry for him. That’s your weakness.” He picked up a remote-control handset from his desk, leaned forward and prodded me in the chest with it, driving his point home.

“I’m sorry, Dr Grieg, but I don’t think Broody meant any harm, and I wouldn’t like to think of him being punished because of it. My mum says that kids like him are just---”

“I don’t care what your mother thinks! Or your father!” He slapped the remote down on his desk. “Your mother and father are not here - I am here - and I will decide who gets punished, and to what extent.” His voice dropped to an icy whisper. “Do you understand?”

I nodded. I have to tell you, this guy, for all his comical looks, was plenty scary. I felt myself starting to colour beneath my freckles.

“Let this be a lesson to you. Because you were helpful in breaking up the attempted fraternisation, and since you were assaulted for your trouble, I have decided to spare you. I am willing to believe that your sister was an innocent engaging in what she saw as a harmless lark. Still, being absent from your cabins is a serious matter, and if either you or your sister re-offends, you will receive the same fate as the Chicken boy.”

I waited, not daring to speak. He’d tell me only if he wanted to; if I showed curiosity, he would deny me. Dr Grieg was a grown-up version of a schoolyard bully, the type my parents had warned me about.

“Mr Chicken has been ... isolated.”

“Isolated?”

“Yes, Little Sir Echo, isolated. He will stay with his own personal counsellor in a cabin separate from the other campers. Until further notice, he will remain off limits---”

“Off limits? Personal counsellor? You mean he’s being held in a cell with a guard---”

“Listen to me, impudent boy, take care - I’m warning you - or you’ll wind up with a taste of the same---”

“Really, Dr Grieg? Where? In that big black building no one’s allowed to go near or even ask questions about? What exactly goes on there, Dr Grieg? What are you hiding?”