A Class Apart

  Chapter 10 – Learning Curve

  James Blake was impressed with himself.

  He had watched Chief Superintendent Harden leave the ward and wanted to follow him. He had overheard the woman’s voice on the phone, saying she had spotted Emma Venton. He wasn’t sure if he’d gained some kind of super hearing, or if the woman just had a loud voice.

  He didn’t know which manner of leaving the ward was likely to draw more attention to him: walking or teleporting? But James had wanted some practice at the latter and it had proved surprisingly easy. Suddenly he was out in the corridor with Harden.

  The one thing James hadn’t considered was the fact that if he was sitting in his bed when he teleported, upon landing in the corridor he would still be in the seated position. Feeling slightly ridiculous, James quickly picked himself up off of the floor and began trailing Harden at a distance.

  Harden stopped at the lifts. He stabbed at the button with a long, meaty finger of the law and waited impatiently for the lift to arrive.

  James hung back in the adjoining corridor. While he was waiting, he helped himself to a biscuit from the lunch trolley which had been left outside a ward. He took out his phone and texted Sam. He knew she was still stuck in bed, but he just felt the need for her to know what he was doing.

  ‘Emma spotted on floor 36! Following Harden up there now.’

  She replied instantly.

  ‘Be careful. Wish I was with u.’

  James had demolished two more custard creams before Harden had entered the lift. He knew Harden was heading for floor 36 so he could just beam himself up there and keep an eye on what was happening.

  He tried to imagine himself on the top floor and was hit by a sudden realisation. He’d never seen floor 36. He didn’t have any idea of what it looked like. He had no concept of it. James hadn’t considered this before. He had started to believe that his newfound abilities meant he could do anything, go anywhere. He’d already given a lot of thought to the kinds of places that he could ‘pop’ in and out of. Now it was starting to dawn on him that he actually needed to know where he was going in order to get there. That would mean having to get the next lift up to floor 36.

  Or! He could run up the stairs! With his newfound abilities and powers, he’d breeze that baby in ten seconds flat! He started jogging.

  Chief Superintendent Harden emerged from the lift in a similarly cautious manner to that which Stannard had. The silent, echoing corridors made him feel uneasy. They should have been teeming with activity. The emptiness was disconcerting.

  “Stannard!” he called out. There was no reply. What had happened to waiting by the lifts? She was worse than his wife for wandering off. Harden looked up and down the corridor. He called out to his DI again. Nothing. This hospital was more like a lunatic asylum, Harden reflected. He had no intention of playing hide and seek in the endless corridors, so he took out his phone and rang Stannard to find out where she was. He could hear the soft beeping in his ear to indicate the call had connected. Seconds later he could hear the actual ringtone of DI Stannard’s mobile. The ringtone was the theme tune of CSI Miami.

  It was some way off. Harden followed the direction of the tone. He called out again but there was still no answer. Stannard could be in trouble. The ringtone cut out, so he dialled the number again.

  Harden was in his 50s, stocky, but still physically fit. He ran down the corridor to the T-junction at the end, paused to gauge where the sound was coming from, turned right and kept running. He passed a ward. The CSI ringtone was coming from within. He stopped. A sign above the door said ‘Windsor Ward’. The door was closed. The phone cut out. He pushed open the door.

  James had well and truly revised his opinion about the ‘ten seconds flat’ boast as, three minutes after he had set off, he was gasping for breath and clutching his stomach. He had a stitch and there was a real possibility he would be sick. He was on the staircase on floor 25. What kind of stupid super powers were these if he was knackered climbing some steps? However, he was fairly sure that his recovery times were faster. The stitch went almost instantly. His phone blinged to herald a new text. It was Sam.

  ‘Where r u? What’s happening?’

  He replied:

  ‘Nothing. Knackered. Wish I’d used the lift.’

  He looked upwards to see the staircase yawning above him. Eleven more flights to go.

  The first thing Harden saw when he stepped onto the ward was bright light. The corridors had been dark and most of the ward doors were closed. This ward had big windows and the summer sunshine almost hurt his eyes. Then he saw DI Stannard. The ward contained six beds, all unmade. Lying on the nearest one, in a crumpled heap, was Jennifer Stannard. Harden hurried over to her. He brushed back her red hair. She had a nasty cut on her forehead and blood had trickled across her face and on to the mattress. She was breathing, but unconscious. The blow looked bad and a colourful bruise was already starting to develop.

  Harden looked around for her attacker. Stannard had mentioned that she had seen the Venton girl on this floor. Did she mean that the Venton girl had been attacked and dumped up here too? Or could the girl have attacked Stannard? He got out his phone to call for assistance. Then he saw it. It was a figure, about 5ft high, wearing a dressing gown, but the head, neck, arms and legs were all bandaged up. Harden was fairly sure the figure was a young girl but, in truth, it was hard to tell. Whoever it was had followed him onto the ward and was now standing in the doorway.

  “Emma Venton?” asked Harden, cautiously. This situation felt very wrong. He wasn’t going to do anything stupid like try and handcuff a 14-year-old female patient, but neither was he going to allow himself to be cracked over the head.

  The girl did not reply.

  “Did you do this?” asked Harden, pointing at DI Stannard. “Did you attack one of my officers?”

  Still the girl did not reply, but started to walk towards Harden.

  James had reached the 36th floor. Before he exited the stairwell he peered through the glass that was built into the solid wooden doors. He couldn’t see much. The corridor was dim compared to the expansive natural lighting in the stairwell. He gently opened the door; he didn’t want to make a noise and alert Harden.

  He stood in the corridor and listened.

  Harden stood his ground as the bandaged figure approached him slowly. Remembering Samantha Blake’s description of the figure in her room, he looked at the girl’s right wrist. He could just about make out the letters comprising the name ‘Emma Venton’ on her identity tag. The girl moved slowly, almost rocking from foot to foot, her legs constrained by the bandages. It was a macabre sight, but Harden had been around and seen some pretty nasty things in his time. He had originally trained as a soldier before moving into the police. He’d been on crowd control at football matches, protests, riots and worse when he was younger and he’d faced down some of London’s toughest criminals. He had no fear of the young girl stumbling towards him.

  “I’m going to take you back to your ward now, young lady. But first I need to call Dr Soames and arrange for medical attention for my officer.” Harden held the phone in his hand. The girl was still marching towards him. Harden’s thumb scrolled down the list of recently dialled numbers. He took his eyes off Emma for a second to make sure he had selected the right number. In the corner of his eye there was a blur of movement – then a blinding flash of light and a terrible pain.

  James heard a crashing sound as he tiptoed down the corridor. He also heard the thumping sound of what must have been a heavy man hitting the floor. James started running down the corridor to the T-junction. To his right, he saw that one of the ward doors was open. He also thought he could hear groaning from inside the ward. He ran towards the light source and froze in the doorway to the ward.

  The bandaged figure, which he presumed was Emma Venton, was standing over the prone body of Chief Superintendent Harden. James could see there were spots of blood on the floor near Harden’s head. Then he saw DI St
annard lying unconscious on one of the beds.

  James’s blood ran cold and he felt a terrible stab of fear. How had Emma managed to knock out two senior police officers? The last time he had seen Emma she had been standing on the back seat of the coach, snarling, ready to scratch his eyes out. How long ago had that been? The figure in front of him now was not animal-like, not fierce or threatening. Just cold and faceless.

  Despite what Emma must have done to the police officers, James decided that she was going to get a big old shock when she confronted him. James still had his phone in his hand. He sent another text to Sam.

  ‘Emma here. I’m going in!’ James put his phone in his pocket.

  He marched over to Stannard to check if she was alive. Looking at her closed eyes, he realized he hadn’t got the slightest clue about whether she was ok or not.

  “What’s it all about Emma?” he asked, trying to add some Bruce Willis bravado to his voice. “Whatcha doing, eh? Scaring my sister. Attacking the police. What for? Their dinner money?”

  Emma didn’t reply; she just stared at James through the eyeholes in the bandages. Then she started lumbering towards him. James was on his guard. Somehow, some way, Emma was strong enough to knock out two police-trained adults. If she tried to hit him, he would have to react fast. She was less than a metre from him when he was, ironically, struck by the same thought that he’d had on the coach. Could he hit a girl? Particularly a girl who was, in theory, in a critical medical condition? His mind wandered for a split second as he tried to work out what to do. In that moment of lost concentration, Emma’s bandaged right hand whipped out to strike his head. James reacted, but fractionally too late. His arm went up to defend himself, but it was totally ineffective against Emma’s blow, which struck him across the forehead and knocked him clean across the ward where he crashed into a wall.

  James remained motionless on the floor for a few seconds, unsure of where he was or what he was doing. He raised his fingers to his temple. There was blood dripping from a cut. He shook his head to try and clear his thoughts and looked up. Emma was walking slowly towards him.

  James recovered his wits quickly and staggered to his feet. He touched the cut again, but couldn’t feel it, and there was no more blood on his fingers. Had it healed? He realized too late that, in his confused state, he had forgotten about Emma. He looked up and she was right in front of him again. He was backed up against the wall, still unsure as to whether he should fight back. The indecision cost him dearly as Emma flashed out her right arm again, cuffing him to the floor. His head was ringing! The force of the blow!

  Before James could recover, he felt one of the bandaged hands grab hold of his sweater and he was lifted off the floor. He felt a panic and a total loss of awareness as he found himself thrown across the ward. He crashed down on to one of the beds and fell off the other side.

  James had no idea of how long he lay there, senseless, on the floor. He was looking blankly at his outstretched arm. The sleeve of his sweater was torn and there was a deep gash running from his elbow to his wrist, although all he could feel was a strange itching sensation. As he looked, he could see the blood-red cut fading. His skin was healing. It was if he was watching some kind of sped-up film footage, like he’d seen on nature programmes, where flowers bloom in the space of 20 seconds. He blinked and looked again. Yes, the arm showed no sign of what had been a deep cut only moments ago. Only the smear of blood around the now-healed injury remained. The realization galvanized him. Part of what he’d been feeling was shock. Now, knowing that his powers had given him the ability to heal quickly, he felt a new wave of determination. He could be immortal, for all he knew. Yes, Emma might be able to clobber him like a heavyweight boxer, but he’d just shrug it off. He had nothing to fear.

  He picked himself up, but once again he was too late. Emma had rounded the bed, seen him on the floor and swept her arm in an arc, connecting her hand with his head. Such was the force of the blow that it knocked James back across the room in the direction he had just come from. His head was pounding again. Ok, so maybe he didn’t have to fear being actually killed or seriously hurt, but it was still really painful when she struck him and he didn’t want to spend the next half an hour being slapped around by a girl!

  James felt mentally stronger now and his recovery was quicker. It needed to be. Emma stumbled quickly across the ward to deliver yet another blow. She was faster this time and in a split second James knew he wasn’t going to make it to his feet fast enough to evade or parry her next assault. His instinct took over. Emma was halfway across the ward, midway between the row of beds on the right side of the room and the left side, where James was slumped next to a bedside locker.

  James was aware of a piece of furniture next to him. An idea germinated in his mind. He had an image of the locker moving. There was a tightening in his stomach as though he was lifting a heavy sports bag. One second later and the locker slid quickly along the smooth hospital floor straight towards the oncoming Emma Venton. It slammed into her and knocked her backwards off her feet. The locker then pitched onto the floor. The door and the top section broke off.

  James picked himself up. Emma was still on the floor. It was impossible to say whether she was unconscious or not. James felt exhilarated by what he had done. He had moved that locker with the power of his mind! In the heat of the moment, it had been easy. He looked at the ruined piece of furniture again. In his head he saw it lifting up off the floor and floating in mid air – and that is exactly what it was doing now! He was controlling it! That Malteser packet in Sam’s bedroom – he had done that too. But that had been an involuntarily reflex, and hurling the locker at Emma had been instinct. Whereas this – making the locker move around in mid air – was a deliberate and controlled act. It was like he’d had a sudden epiphany. Like the moment, when you are younger, when you don’t really get how you can ride a bike without stabilizers. You think you’ll fall off if your dad lets go of the seat and there’s nothing to balance you. Then you look back and realize he’d stopped holding you ages ago, and you’re doing it, you’re cycling on your own without help.

  James started laughing. This was incredible! He was barely aware of the tight feeling in his stomach. He guided the locker back to its original position and set it down gently. He wanted to try out his power on something else.

  He looked around, but suddenly, as if she was held on a piece of string, Emma Venton suddenly pivoted up off the floor and was standing in front of him again. He hadn’t done that, had he?

  James cried out in alarm, but was cut off because Emma suddenly had both hands around his throat and was trying to throttle him. She was immensely strong. Surely James had super strength now to go with his other amazing powers? He exerted every bit of force that he could muster but it was to no avail. Emma had the strength of a giant, and he had the strength of a 14-year-old schoolboy!

  He was starting to see stars spark in front of his eyes now and he could feel all the strength draining from his body. She was killing him, and he had no idea if he could survive an attack like this. James was suddenly scared again, as he realized what he was up against, and was suddenly aware of his own vulnerabilities. He would be dead before he’d even been famous! He would never see his parents or his sister again!

  The sudden wave of rage and fear in him conjured up the image of throwing Emma against the far wall. Even though his hands now hung limply by his side, he could still feel a force within him that was strong enough. And he did it! Emma’s hands were suddenly released from his throat and, as he dropped to his knees, he saw her flying through the air and crash into the point where the wall met the ceiling. One of the light fittings smashed and Emma dropped to the floor.

  James breathed deeply. He could feel the damage to his throat being instantly repaired. Thank goodness. But then he looked at his hand. One of the shards of flying glass from the smashed ceiling lights had hit his hand and lightly cut his skin. It was nothing bad, just messy, as blood started pouri
ng out of it. He waited for the healing effect to kick in. It didn’t. He wiped the bloody hand on his sweater and looked again. The cut looked more like a scratch now, but it wasn’t healing as fast. Why not?

  He looked at Emma again. His assault didn’t seem to have slowed her down at all. She simply picked herself up and bore down on him faster than before. She seemed to feel no pain; it was like fighting the Terminator. How was he going to stop her? He blinked and saw, in his mind’s eye, the two large padded chairs that were situated next to the beds either side of Emma. He imagined them flying through the air and converging on Emma’s body, slamming into her at exactly the same moment.

  The chairs were lifted off the ground and went flying towards Emma, responding to James’s command. But they didn’t seem to have the same force as when he had propelled the locker at her. They were slow enough for Emma simply to sweep her arms out wide and swat them aside as though they were nothing.

  James tried concentrating on just one of them, to slide it along the floor and take out Emma’s legs, but it barely moved. He could feel the strain of effort in his stomach.

  Emma grabbed hold of his arms and lifted his entire body above her head. James cried out in panic. He couldn’t work out what was going on as Emma twisted around and his own body twisted too, disorientating him.

  A second later he realized what was happening. She sped up as she approached the window at the far end of the ward and hurled him at it. James did his best to protect himself as he went crashing through the glass, screaming out in pain. He felt the buffeting wind. He opened his eyes and saw a flash of lights as he went plummeting 36 storeys down to the cold concrete of the ground below.