Doc Mortis

The old television set gave a faint clunk as I switched it on. In a few seconds, an all-too-familiar scene appeared.

Hundreds of the creatures. Cars and buildings ablaze. People screaming. People running. People dying.

Hell on Earth.

‘That’s New York,’ she said.

Click. Another channel, but the footage was almost identical.

‘London.’

Click.

‘I’m... I’m not sure. Somewhere in Japan. Tokyo, maybe?’ It could have been Tokyo, but then again it could have been anywhere. I clicked through half a dozen more channels, but the images were always the same.

‘It happened,’ I gasped. ‘It actually happened.’

I turned back to the window and gazed out. The clouds above the next town were tinged with orange and red. It was already burning. They were destroying everything, just like he’d told me they would.

This was it.

The world was ending.

Armageddon.

And it was all my fault.

SEVENTEEN DAYS EARLIER... (#ulink_4f61e710-4d1d-582d-a72a-9382403ae641)

Chapter One THE HOSPITAL (#ulink_fbc000cf-d568-52c1-94a7-30aef597e7e1)

I stood in the doorway, swaying on unsteady legs, staring down at the spot where my mum should have been.

The air around me was raw with the smell of disinfectant. It rose from every surface, thick and overpowering, as if trying to mask something too dirty to ever truly clean away.

Where I had expected to see Mum, there was someone else. This person was older than Mum. Smaller. More frail. Tubes and wires were attached to her all over, sagging limply, like the strings of a broken puppet.

Was this what Mum had looked like too? Lying there in this bed, bruised and battered from the attack by the Crowmaster? I couldn’t imagine it. I didn’t dare imagine it. Things I imagined had a nasty habit of coming true.

Like Mr Mumbles, for example. Years ago, when I was four or five, he’d been my imaginary friend. Eventually I’d outgrown him, forgotten about him, moved on.

He, it turned out, hadn’t.

Just over two weeks ago he came back and tried to kill me – or rather, a twisted, mutated version of him had come back, with dirty stitches sealing his mouth shut.

I only managed to survive when I discovered that I had a... special imagination. By concentrating hard enough – by picturing something clearly in my head – I could make it happen. I’d created fire. I’d created weapons. I’d even created a large, angry dog. And possibly a flying monkey, although the jury was still out on that one.

‘She was there. She was right there.’

Ameena’s voice sounded tinny and distant; I turned to face her. It took the room a few seconds to catch up.

‘Well, she’s not here now.’

A flicker of worry passed across Ameena’s face. ‘Are you OK? You look terrible.’

‘I’m fine,’ I lied.

‘You’ve been getting worse all night.’

‘I’m fine.’

I wasn’t fine. I was far from fine. My head was full of marshmallow and my legs were solid stone. My whole body was shaking with cold, but a thin film of sweat stuck my T-shirt to my back. My eyes felt like they were boiling in their sockets, and the five scratches I had received when the Crowmaster’s claws had dug into my scalp were burning holes through my skull.

I was sick. Maybe really sick. But it wasn’t my health I was worried about.

‘We’ve got to find her,’ I said.

‘You need to sit down before you fall down,’ Ameena told me. ‘I’ll get you a doctor.’

‘I’m fine,’ I snapped, turning and staggering out of the room. ‘Don’t worry about me. Worry about Mum.’

‘Can I help you?’

I looked in the direction the voice had come from. A tall, slightly overweight man in a white coat gradually swam into focus. His face looked like it hadn’t seen a razor in days, and the stubble that grew from his chin was flecked with grey.

‘My mum,’ I said.

The doctor raised an eyebrow and looked me up and down. ‘Sorry?’

I shook my head and cleared away some of the fuzz. ‘My mum was here,’ I explained. ‘In that room. She’s not there now.’

The doctor glanced in through the open door of the room. ‘Yes?’ he said, his tone clipped and irritable.

‘So where is she?’ Ameena asked.

‘Transferred.’

I frowned. ‘Transferred where?’

The doctor glanced at his watch. ‘That’s confidential. Now, if you’ll excuse me...’

Ameena stepped in front of him before I could. ‘He’s her son,’ she said, jabbing a thumb in my direction. ‘And I’m the one who brought her in. You can tell us where she is.’

The doctor folded his arms across his chest and leaned back on his heels. ‘The family has already been notified,’ he said, looking me up and down for the second time. ‘So, if you really are who you say you are, I suggest you check with them.’

Ameena didn’t move. She just stood there, blocking his way and giving him the evil eye.

‘Should I call security?’ he asked impatiently.