In the Skin of a Monster by Kathryn Barker

Author:Kathryn Barker
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Allen & Unwin
Published: 2015-06-07T16:00:00+00:00

‘You have wings,’ she says, as though she’s telling me I’ve got something stuck between my teeth.

‘Yes, I have wings,’ I say, wondering how I can drag this out just that little bit longer. I haven’t turned around to check, but it sounds as though Ivan’s almost got everyone through the fence and safely away. We’re lucky it’s dark. If it were any lighter, the monsters would see them escaping. As it stands, they’re still taking their time, thinking we’re trapped. Their patience won’t last much longer though.

‘I’ve been looking for you,’ says the beautiful monster, which is not what I was expecting.

‘I’ve been looking for you too,’ I say, trying to play it cool. ‘You’re the one who’s been organising the monsters?’

‘Guilty,’ she says, sounding as if guilt is the very last thing she feels about it.

From behind me I hear whispering, and then the unmistakable sound of feet running away.

‘Can I ask why?’ I say, hoping to buy them a head start. The kids should manage okay but Ivan will be badly hurt from the razor wire. He’ll be moving slowly, and no doubt losing a lot of blood. The longer I can give him to get away, the better his chances.

‘Self-preservation, of course,’ she says, smiling, but not with her eyes. ‘Word got around that a monster and a boy in a trench coat were hunting down anyone who showed up in here wearing a school dress. I felt the need to … protect my interests.’

It takes a moment for that to sink in. She looks nothing like her, but as I always say, looks are usually deceiving.

‘You’re one of the school-girl monsters.’

‘And you’re the boy in the trench coat. Which means you,’ she says, looking behind me, ‘must be the monster.’

I spin around, and sure enough there’s Ivan. He should have gone with the others.

Go now, I signal to him.

He just stares at me and says nothing … then I realise: he can’t say anything, at least not in our language of gestures. His hands.

For a moment I think I’m going to puke, just like a novice. Thankfully it’s dark and I can only see the wetness of the blood, not the full extent of the damage. There’s no escaping the drip, drip, drip on the concrete, though, and the fact that it’s speeding up, not slowing down.

‘No,’ I say, without even meaning to. I’ve seen Ivan heal from gunshot wounds and knife attacks and all manner of battles. Nothing like this, though. Nobody survives something like this, except me.

Another nightmare begins somewhere nearby, giving off an eerie red glow. It’s enough extra light to see that Ivan and I are standing in a giant pool of blood, and that no one’s standing behind us. The kids are gone.

If she’s mad, she doesn’t show it. No emotion makes it to her eyes at all. She just stands there, holding her monsters in check with an iron-clad ‘Wait’.

‘So,’ she says to Ivan and me, once her entourage has settled.

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