Rosie Frost, page 11
“For goodness’ sake, why can’t you say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ like an ordinary person?” Rosie set it on the shelf, then clunked the door shut. “What are they? How do you know what it is? There are no labels.”
She swung her torch round and pointed it at him. He was frowning, his hand rubbing his chin.
“Was Colin ill?” Ed asked. “Might someone have been giving him medicine? Sometimes when people give you medicine it makes you sicker.”
Why can’t he just answer a question?
“What are you on about, Ed? He wasn’t ill. He wouldn’t have come out to Bloodstone Island to see me if he was! What are we doing here? What did you see while I was locked in the toilet, and who attacked me?!”
Outside in the main room, a door squeaked open, and the lights flickered on.
“Hide!” Ed hissed, and Rosie clicked off her torch. Then she remembered the padlock. It was still open, hanging on the door, unlocked. Damn it. No time. She shoved the key in her pocket.
Ed pressed himself up against the wall next to the door, but there was no room for her there too. Rosie clambered behind a pile of boxes stacked next to a chest freezer and crouched down. She might not be seen. She felt around her, and the moonlight shone down on a sort of rough blanket. She quickly pulled it over herself. It smelled of horse poo, and she remembered the Konik pony, Hildegunn, she had ridden during the Falcon Queen games last year. How did she go from Falcon Queen’s champion to hiding under a horse-poo blanket?
Rosie heard a familiar bark in the main room, then Ms. Parr’s voice.
“Shush, Oddjob, I’ll just be a moment, then I’ll give you breakfast back at the cottage.”
Rosie held her breath. The door to the storeroom was slightly ajar, and if she peered out over the pile of boxes, she’d be able to see Ms. Parr moving about.
Cawww, cawwww!
The raven was screeching manically, as though it was giving Ms. Parr an “intruders” alert.
Oddjob nosed open the door a bit farther and trotted into the storeroom. He sniffed the air, then lowered his head and growled in Ed’s direction. Ed squeezed himself farther into the corner. Then Oddjob turned round and trotted up to the boxes, wagging his tail and sniffing the ground.
“Go away!” Rosie hissed.
“Oddjob? What are you doing in there?”
Rosie pulled the blanket over her head as Ms. Parr opened the door and turned on the light.
“Have you spotted a mouse? If you have, you’re supposed to catch it, not make friends with it.”
Rosie shrank back even farther into her corner, gripping her hands tightly together and willing Ms. Parr to go away. How could she explain being here? She felt the familiar heat in the back of her nose. Not now, not now! Please don’t start bleeding! She reached into her pocket for a tissue, and the open packet of Monster Munch tumbled onto the ground.
Rosie felt a tug on the blanket. Oddjob had hold of a corner and was pulling at it! Rosie’s heart thumped.
“Go away!” she whispered, yanking back the blanket—it was blanket tug-of-war.
He started edging his nose through the crack in the boxes, growling, ears pricked.
Oh no!
He tugged on the blanket again.
Rosie threw a Monster Munch claw out from the blanket and Oddjob pounced after it, tail wagging.
“You’ve spotted something over here?” Ms. Parr’s voice grew louder and her footsteps came closer. “Are you eating something? You naughty boy, I told you you’ll get your breakfast soon enough.”
Rosie’s heart was beating hard and she squeezed her eyes tight shut. This was a terrible hiding place. If Ms. Parr came one step closer she’d be bound to see her, and then what? She’d be expelled. Hemlock would make sure of it. He despised Rosie, especially after last year, and any chance he got, he’d have her thrown off the island. She breathed in sharply, and the smell of horsehair hit her. Her nose began to tickle.
Ah! Ah!
She pinched her nose. She was going to sneeze.
Fight it, Rosie!
Oddjob tugged the blanket again, filling her nose with another tickling burst of the horse smell. She held her breath and squeezed her fists tightly.
“Is there something under that blanket, Oddjob?”
Oh no!
“Ms. Parr?”
It was Bina! In the hospital room!
“Yes? Oh, hello, Bina.” Ms. Parr’s voice became a little fainter. “Have you been working here all night?”
“Yes, I was in the science library. I was just reading about plant cures.”
“Ah, yes, I do believe in plant cures—I use traditional cures where I can. My family have been looking after this island for generations, so we’ve learned a few things on the way. One has to be very careful about the therapeutic dosage, naturally.” She walked closer to the cabinet, where the padlock was left unlocked. Rosie winced. “What can help in small amounts can be dangerous in large ones,” she added, taking another step nearer to Rosie.
“So tell me, what about goats?!” said Bina, taking Ms. Parr’s arm and heading firmly in the opposite direction. “I must show you what I read. Is it true they eat marshmallow root on purpose to make themselves fart?” She laughed.
“Yes, they do. Good thing too. A goat with diarrhea makes for a very unpleasant patient,” replied Ms. Parr.
The storeroom light clicked off, and Oddjob whined. He was still tugging at the blanket.
“I’m delighted you’ve chosen this topic, Bina,” Ms. Parr continued. “Too many scientists are like Mr. Vance, chasing the instant fix for glory, when they could be investigating old and natural remedies with modern scientific methods. And there are some fascinating mushrooms on Bloodstone, unique subspecies. I’d be delighted to assist you.”
“Thank you so much, Ms. Parr!”
“Come along, Oddjob! Leave that mouse for later.”
Oddjob stopped tugging.
Oarf oarf! he yapped in farewell, and trotted off after Ms. Parr. The blanket settled over Rosie, and a tiny fragment of straw gently brushed against her nose. It tickled her nostrils, and then:
“Acchhoooo!”
“What was that?” Ms. Parr said sharply. “Is someone there?”
“It was the wildcat,” Bina replied, and laughed. “Sounded almost like a person, didn’t it? So can I show you that article I found on goats? It’s fascinating.”
“Hmm. Very well,” Ms. Parr replied, looking back into the room. Rosie then heard their footsteps retreating through the hospital room. The raven started cawing again.
The door at the far end of the hospital room opened and closed, and Ms. Parr’s voice disappeared.
Rosie breathed out and pushed the blanket off her head. Ed was leaning over the boxes, peering down at her, his gray eyes gleaming in the moonlight.
“Bloody hell, Ed!” She jumped, knocking over one of the boxes. “Don’t startle me like that.” Ed stepped back, lowering his gaze.
Rosie clambered to her feet, rearranging the boxes and the blanket, then turned on her torch.
“Who was that girl?” Ed asked, watching her.
“Bina. She’s a friend,” Rosie said, brushing stray birdseed off her jeans. “I think she was covering for us.”
Did Bina see us sneaking in?
“So what’s in those bottles?” said Rosie. “Why did you want to look at them?”
He gave her his down-the-nose “how dare you question me” look.
“Oh, whatever!” Rosie glowered back at him. “But a trade is a trade. Now it’s my turn. What about Colin’s backpack? And who hid it?”
“The traitor who locked you in the closet took the bag, and I saw him hide it yesterday evening.”
“Okay,” said Rosie. “So where is it? And who’s the traitor who killed Colin?”
“I’m not sure.”
“That’s not helpful. You said you had a trade!”
“But the bag was left in the woods. Thick evergreen trees, but some of the trees have red bark and huge shiny leaves. There are the remains of metal walls around it.”
“Ah, that’s Wildcat Woods!”
“I don’t know what they are called, but I did see little leopards that looked like that one.”
He pointed to the wildcat’s cage. “Someone has built some pens out there. Animal enclosures. The backpack is in the one farthest from the gate.”
Animal pens? Why and how had it ended up in there? Was Hemlock messing around in the woods again?
Rosie glanced at her Flik Flak watch. If she went now, she might be late for Gutter Club, but if the backpack was just lying around outside, she had to get it straightaway. Then she remembered what Ms. Parr had said about rounding up that huge terrifying wolf thing that had chased her through the woods. Might that be the sort of animal being kept in there?
“What’s in the pen?” she asked, frowning.
“Some birds,” Ed said.
That didn’t sound too bad. Besides, she needed answers.
“Oh, the traitor, he always makes a diamond shape on an emerald tablet which glows to open the door. The bag’s in the last pen. He made the same shape on the pad to get in there, but the other way round.” He shrugged.
Rosie walked back into the animal hospital, and the raven started cawing angrily at her again.
“Shush!” Rosie said sharply, and it shut its beak in sudden obedience and hunkered down on its perch.
“It listened to you,” Ed said. “Are you part of the family? That would explain—”
“What family? No. I don’t have any family. Come on, I want to get that backpack.”
She marched through the room and opened the door to the corridor a little, peering round looking left and right. All clear. She stepped out and he followed.
“You go. I have things to do.”
“What?” Rosie’s face grew hot. “Ed, why won’t you just help me properly and tell everyone what happened? Maybe I’ll just drag you to one of the teachers.”
His jaw dropped and his eyes grew wide. “You can’t make me. You can’t just drag me about!” He stepped back, cowering, like she was some dangerous animal about to pounce.
“Just do the right thing, Ed! And why did we come here to look in the bottle cupboard? Tell me!”
Ed’s face stiffened. He was looking around and into the shadows, as though they were alive and coming to get him.
“I just wanted to see…” He bit his lip. “But it’s no use, I tried. I do what they say, hoping it’s the right thing, and people get hurt anyway. I hate this! Just shut up; shut up.” He was shouting now. “Why should I trust you about anything?”
His eyes were darting everywhere, and he covered his head with his arms again.
What’s his problem?
Rosie’s mum had told her about people who have seen horrible things who then end up behaving a bit strangely. But she’d been talking about the ex-soldier who lived three doors down the walkway from them, who shouted at helicopters sometimes, not a boy like Ed. But the way Ed’s moods changed, or he got panicked, reminded her of the soldier a bit.
Rosie took a deep breath. Shouting at him wasn’t working.
“Ed, please listen to me…” she said gently.
“I thought you were different. I thought you were my friend, but I can’t trust you either! You’re just like them, cruel, aren’t you? I kept my side of the bargain. That should be enough.” He looked at her again, like she was some monster with two heads, then turned and ran out the door, off into the darkness.
“Ed!” she hissed, but he’d gone.
What was going on with him? Someone had obviously been very cruel to him.
He’d looked really, really frightened.
Just like them?
Rosie bit her lip. Was she being cruel having a go at him like this? Hemlock had told her she was cruel. He’d said, The name Frost was often given to those born in winter. Also to those said to be wicked.
Is it true? Rosie shook herself and sighed.
But when you’ve seen a person attacked, and another perhaps dead on the floor, you tell someone, don’t you? That had to be non-negotiable, even on Bloodstone Island. But Ed obviously didn’t think so.
Maybe she could text Bina, tell her Ed was here, to stop him, talk sense into him. She dug her hand into her pocket for her phone, but of course, she’d lost it. She then felt something else. Metal. She opened her hand…it was the padlock key to the cabinet.
She’d have to put it back.
Suddenly, Rosie was creeping past the cages of the raven, the wildcat, and the snake, and she was back at the cabinet. She placed the key in the padlock and was about to click it shut and lock the cupboard door.
Maybe it was just pure curiosity, but she opened the door and stared at the different-colored bottles.
Why on earth had he wanted to look at them? They mean something. And the smell.
And then, not knowing exactly why, she took down one of the green bottles and put it in the bottom of her rucksack, wrapped in her sweater. She then locked the cabinet and placed the key back under the cactus pot. She looked back at the empty room. Both the snake and wildcat had curled up and gone back to sleep. The raven was still shooting her evil looks, but it had stopped cawing at her.
If Ed was telling the truth, she’d have Colin’s backpack soon, but she had to retrieve it before something happened to it. How did it end up there? Was Ed even telling the truth? He’s long gone now.
Fine. She’d do this alone.
Chapter 16
The Devil’s Chicken
Thursday, January 12th. 5:00 a.m. Wildcat Woods Animal Pens.
The dark sky was still studded with stars, and the pine trees crisp with a dusting of frost. Rosie hadn’t been to Wildcat Woods since the Falcon Queen games, and she wondered if she’d meet her friend Mercury and the other wildcats again.
As she crossed the lawns in front of the school, there was a trace of light in the east, but the woods ahead were still dark. The forest was a strange and magical place during the day, and even more so at night. Even in winter huge tropical flowers bloomed here, infusing the air with their musky scent, and night creatures hooted to each other. Bats squeaked, fluttering over her head. Even though it was dark in these woods, she felt peaceful; it was almost like home.
The pens Ed had been talking about were exactly where the mining compound had been before Christmas, a large space carved out in the middle of the dense woods. The old barriers had been replaced with a high metal fence with a heavy gate. Beyond were large animal pens made of woven wire and metal bars.
A sign on the gate read Keep Out in huge letters. It was more like a prison than a zoo, but there were no guards around. Next to the heavy latch on the gate was a smooth black screen, like an iPad. She touched it and a number pad appeared.
What did Ed say? The traitor always makes a diamond shape on an emerald tablet which glows to open the door. A diamond shape.
She stared at the numbers, then pressed…2-4-8-6…Nothing. What about 2-6-8-4? The pad flashed a bright green and the door politely buzzed, then clicked open. She went through and closed it softly behind her.
Great. What next? The bag’s in the last pen, Ed had said. Colin’s backpack must be in the pen farthest away from the gate, and it had some birds in it. Should be easy enough to find, even in the moonlight.
What were these animals doing here? The point of Bloodstone Island was that its creatures roamed free—wildcats, the ponies, and even the terrifying Komodo dragons up on the slopes of Volcan Crag. Maybe the animals in the pens were sick too? Rosie stood by the gate and looked behind her, listening to every tweet and coo, the rustling of everlasting trees from the restless forest behind her.
She switched on her torch and panned it around.
The pens all had shelters at the back, large ponds, and perches and piles of rock. The steel doors to each enclosure were secured by more keypads. Some also had a sort of lobby, built out of chain mesh, so you had to open one door to get into that, then another to access the main pen.
Rosie approached the first pen. She flashed the beam of light straight into a huge pair of eyes.
SQWARRK!
The dodo! The one Harry Arundel had brought back from extinction. So were these animals all extinct creatures, reborn? Was it a kind of mini Jurassic Park?
The dodo’s eyes blinked at the torch light.
“Sorry,” she said.
The large bird ruffled up its feathers, then turned round and waddled off toward its hutch.
Rosie walked down the row of pens, her torch light reflecting off the metal fences. She reached the last one, then peered through the wire mesh, squinting into the darkness. Just a dense black. Nothing moved.
Where is it?
A sighing gasp of wind rustled through the woods, and the air tightened, like it knew something was coming.
No birds, nothing. Maybe they’d been set free, or maybe Ed had tricked her.
Would he lie to her about the bag being here, maybe? She hardly knew him. Her torch traveled over the whole pen.
Nothing but grass and straw, with a little pond and some rocks and an oversized rabbit hutch at the back. No birds and no backpack. Her shoulders dropped and she sighed. Damn it, Ed! The git was lying.
Double-check, just in case.
She scoured the ground, focused on every inch, no rushing.
Forensic eyes on the prize, Detective Frost. Concentrate on the center of the beam.
She frowned, biting her lip. More grass, frost, straw, straw, dull-gray canvas, straw…
Wait, back up! What was that?
There was a patch of dull-gray material poking out of the straw. Was that it?
There’s only one way to find out. She stared into the darkness.
Courage. That was one of the words the Falcon Queens lived by. Time to show a bit. She pulled her shoulders back and tightened the straps on her backpack.
