Jelly Cooper: Alien
Chapter 13

Rhiannon’s house is huge. Like, really huge. It stands proud at the end of a tree-lined avenue, towering over the other rooftops and dominating the skyline. We see its white walls as soon as we turn into the road; like great sails catching the wind.

Mummy and daddy Miles must be very good at their jobs, even if they suck as parents. Rhiannon shrinks as we approached the house and hovers at the bottom of the drive.

I nudge her. “Shall we go in?”

“What? Oh, yeah, sure.”

The first thing I notice is how glamorous it is. Polished marble gleams, chandeliers sway, and the mosaic floor squeaks beneath our feet. It’s like being in a film.

We follow Rhiannon to the end of the hallway in silence.

Hey, it’s hard to talk with your mouth hanging open. Try it some time and you’ll see that I’m right.

The size of the kitchen takes my breath away.

“This is bigger than my house.”

The words pop out of my mouth and I groan on the inside.

“Sorry.”

Rhiannon doesn’t pay any attention.

Humphrey whistles. “Wow. This is some kitchen. I doubt that any of the hotels on the front has a kitchen like this.”

Rhiannon shrugs. “Mother had a complete re-fit when we moved in.” She grunts. “She’s never lifted a finger in a kitchen in her life. It’s just for show, like everything else around here.”

Oh-kay…

“Anybody hungry?”

“I am,” Humphrey answers.

“No surprises there,” Agatha jokes, poking his tummy.

Acting like a normal human being for once, Rhiannon grabs loads of food from the refrigerator. “Let’s go to my room, it’s a bit more relaxed up there. You can tell me all about this Hunter thingy and whether or not you’ve put me in mortal danger and then I can kill you for getting me involved in something so crazy.”

So much for acting like a normal human being.

The doorbell rings, slicing through the air.

White faced, I stand frozen. What does that little girl in Poltergeist say?

He’s he-ere.

I turn to Rhiannon.

“Are you expecting company?”

“No.”

“Could it be Trish, or Melissa?”

“Jel…”

“Sshhh Humphrey. Rhiannon?”

“No. They have a field trip this afternoon to Fairwater. Melissa spent two hours last night picking out what to wear. Even if they are wondering where I am, it won’t stop them going.”

“Damn.”

The doorbell rings again, longer this time, more insistent.

“It might be nothing,” I mumble under my breath. Agatha and Humphrey swap worried looks.

“OK,” I say, striving for calm. “No one would associate us with Rhiannon, so it’s not going to be someone looking for us. Unless it’s the Hunter.”

Damn, did I say that last part out loud?

I hold back from telling them about the figure on the beach. It’s too late now anyway.

“Why am I doing this?” Rhiannon sighs. “Get upstairs, quick. My room is third on the right, shut the door after you and keep quiet. I’ll get rid of whoever it is.” She drops the food on the kitchen table, ushers us into the hallway and pushes us up the regal staircase. We reach the landing and I tell Agatha and Humphrey to hide in Rhiannon’s bedroom. They make a fuss, so I push them in and shut the door. Alone, I sit by the top step and peek through a gap in the banister.

“Maybe it’s just the Avon lady,” Rhiannon murmurs. Taking a deep breath, she opens the front door.

Mr. Fletcher leans against the frame, his finger on the doorbell. He smiles at Rhiannon.

“Well, well, Miss Miles. Aren’t you full of surprises?” Pushing past her, he steps into the hallway. His eyes flit from doorway to doorway, searching.

“I must admit, I hadn’t expected this. Not in a million years.” He glances back and gives her a wink, then moves down the hallway towards the kitchen.

Hunter

I shake off the possibility. I’m being paranoid. I tell the things squirming in my belly to stop being so bloody paranoid and settle down but they don’t listen.

Mr. Fletcher runs his hand over the wall; I can hear his fingernails scratching against the paper. Humming under his breath, he heads for the kitchen.

I creep down the stairs and very, very, carefully, peer around the bottom of the banister.

Rhiannon tries to act innocent, but looks like she’s about to faint. On any other day of the year, acting the innocent would not be a problem for Rhiannon Miles. But not today. Today, the words won’t come.

“I…ah…I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr. Fletcher.”

He smiles and continues his investigation of the kitchen. I retreat behind the safety of the banister.

Hunter.

As the word reverberates in my ears, I realise the extent of the danger I’ve put my friends in. I take another peek towards the kitchen. How can I get them out?

Rhiannon stands in front of the pile of food strewn across the table.

Damn – I’d forgotten about that.

She tries to distract the amused Mr. Fletcher.

“I…um, I’m sorry that I wasn’t at school today. I had to go to the doctor this morning. I was feeling quite sick last night and I had this rash. Mum panicked; you know how mums are, right? She thought it might be Meningitis or something and insisted that I go to the doctor this morning straight away. I should have phoned the school, I know, but…Mr. Fletcher?”

He isn’t listening. He’s looking. And something tells me he’s about to come my way.

I float up the stairs.

Mr. Fletcher turns and strides down the corridor, Rhiannon racing after his retreating back.

“Mr. Fletcher, what are you doing?”

He spins on his heel and grabs her by the shoulders.

“Where is she?”

“P…p…pardon?”

Mr. Fletcher peers at her through narrowed eyes and she does the worst thing possible; her eyes flicker towards the stairs. He follows her impulsive movement and smiles.

Time to go.

I race along the hall towards Rhiannon’s bedroom.

“Thank you, Miss Miles.”

I hear footfalls on the stairs.

“JELLY – HE’S COMING!”

Agatha and Humphrey jump as I burst into the room. In a flurry of movement, Humphrey leaps in front of me and Agatha races to the door and throws her weight against it. She grabs the handle with both hands and braces herself.

I start to tremble. I can’t help it. But it’s me he wants and it’s me that’s going to get us out of here alive. Perhaps.

Taking a deep breath, I push Humphrey aside. Turning to Agatha, I command in a low voice, “Get away from the door.”

Agatha, bewildered, backs away. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” she whispers, grabbing a vase from the dressing table and holding it above her head.

Humphrey sees a tennis racket jutting out from under the bed and grabs it.

My chest heaves. I try to gather my thoughts and calm my thundering heartbeat, but it’s hard; a lot harder than levitating some aluminium. I badly need to focus, but seeing my two closest friends in the grip of terror makes it nigh-on-impossible.

The door swings open.

Mr. Fletcher stands in the open doorway, his eyes blazing.

“I knew it was you,” he breathes.

He steps forward. I blink and the door slams shut in his face with a crack. Wasting no time, I scan the room for a weapon. My gaze falls on a line of shoes resting at the bottom of the open wardrobe. Reaching, I bring them all floating into a line.

Put them together and what have you got?

I ready myself.

Bibbedy Bobbedy Boo!

The door opens. He stands, perfectly still, blood tricking from his nose. His eyes gleam as he sees the row of floating shoes.

“I knew it.”

I launch the first missile with a toss of my head. An expensive running shoe whistles through the air, flying towards the Hunter’s face.

He stops it in mid air with a twitch of his finger.

Something grabs hold of my insides and twists. I send the rest of the shoes flying through the air at his head.

Mr. Fletcher holds up his hand and the shoes stop dead and fall to the floor with a series of thuds. He advances towards me and I do nothing. I just stand there and watch him come.

Some super alien I am.

Humphrey leaps forward with a strangled yell, swinging the tennis racket. Mr. Fletcher ducks and grabs the strings. He thrusts Humphrey to the floor and, without looking at Agatha, commands her to drop the vase.

Agatha sets it down, her eyes on Humphrey. She rushes over to his side. “You OK?”

“I’m fine,” he says, taking her hand.

Agatha glares at Fletcher. If looks could kill, he’d be a corpse.

It’s a pity they can’t kill. I could do with the help.

The Hunter walks towards me. Humphrey tries to get up, but Agatha holds him back. Shaking, I stumble as I try to back away.

He’s going to kill me.

“Aaaaayyyeeeee!”

Rhiannon launches herself at Fletcher. He pitches forward as she lands, arms and legs flailing, onto his back. God bless cheerleading practice.

Frantic, he tries to shrug her off, but her arms lock around his neck. They thrash around the room, crashing into walls and furniture and knocking picture frames and a jewellery box onto the floor. Humphrey and Agatha scramble out of the way and press themselves against the wardrobe.

Fletcher claws at Rhiannon’s hands, his face reddening as she presses against his windpipe.

“Ghlecht…olshff…me,” he splutters, peeling her hands from his throat.

I watch them struggle. On one level, I’m frantic for my friends, and Rhiannon, but something is taking over my emotions, locking down my panic and clearing my mind. A voice talks to me, calming me and freeing my mind of dread. The thing that surprises me the most is that it’s my own. I know what I have to do and it starts with not letting others fight my battles.

Rhiannon screeches. Twirling around the room, she battles to keep her grip as the Hunter tries to shrug her off.

She slips.

I reach and send out invisible hands to catch her as she falls. Rhiannon slumps and hangs in mid air, suspended in an invisible net. Dazed, she sways in the air.

I face the Hunter.

“Now you.”

I spread my arms. The air trembles and crackles and my hair stands on end, alive with static. The buzzing in my ears grows louder.

My eyes blaze.

Fletcher steps towards me, his hands outstretched, imploring.

“Kamile, NO! It’s not what you –

I unleash hundreds of silvery tendrils. They shoot forward, twisting and turning through the air as they speed towards the Hunter. I lift him off the ground and cocoon him in a spidery chrysalis. He struggles with his invisible bonds. He looks up.

“Kamile, listen to me!”

I hurl him back against the wall and feel nothing bad when his head cracks against the doorframe. His body slumps forward and I drop him onto the floor.

Weakened and shaking, I crouch on the ground and, with trembling fingers, brush strands of hair away from my face and try not to be sick.

“Um, Jelly?”

“Hmm?”

Rhiannon hangs, suspended in mid air. She looks like she’s rocking in a hammock, only the hammock isn’t there.

“Any chance of getting out of this thing, whatever it is?”

I guide Rhiannon slowly back to earth. I get up and walk over to her.

“You OK?”

“Give us a hand up.”

I help her to her feet, wincing as I spot a row of nasty purple bruises developing on her shins.

“Thanks,” I whisper, feeling awkward. “You really did hang in there.”

Rhiannon shrugs. “Couldn’t have guests terrorized in my house, could I?”

“Well, thanks anyway.”

Agatha reluctantly leaves Humphrey’s side and peers at the inanimate Mr. Fletcher. She prods him with the tip of her shoe. He grunts, but doesn’t move. Turning to face me, she smiles a tentative smile.

“Seems like you did it, Jay. He’s out of it.”

Hmmm. I wonder.

“What’s wrong?”

Shrugging, I say, “It’s nothing. I’m sure it’s nothing. Can’t help thinking that it was a bit too easy. I mean, he didn’t put up much of a fight, did he?”

Humphrey grabs my shoulders.

“Jel, if you had seen yourself... hair going crazy, fire in your eyes.”

Agatha nods.

“Im-pre-ssive.”

Well, things could be a lot worse.

Agatha tugs at my sleeve.

“He’s waking up.” She nods at the crumpled teacher. “What do we do?”

“We should kill him right now, before he does the same to us.”

“Humphrey! You couldn’t kill a worm, let alone another human being,”

Agatha steps forward. “She’s right, Humphrey. We can’t kill him. He’s a person, it would be murder.”

Humphrey blushes. “But he’s not a person, is he? He’s a Hunter thingy from out of space, come here to kill Jelly and any one that gets in the way. Like us. We should end it now, before it’s too late.”

I struggle to keep my waning composure. “And what do you suggest we do with the body? Bury it underneath Rhiannon’s patio?”

Rhiannon squeals. “No way, my mum would kill me!”

Groaning with growing exasperation, I turn to her.

“Calm yourself. It was a poor attempt at sarcasm. But really Humph, I’d like to hear your plan. I’m intrigued that you’re actually entertaining this thought seriously, really I am.”

“But he’s the Hunter,” Humphrey stresses.

“No.” Says Fletcher from the floor. “I’m not.”