Doc Mortis
The fourth thrilling book in this darkly funny, horror series Darren Shan called ‘deliciously nightmarish’. The first book, Mr Mumbles, is shortlisted for the Royal Mail Awards for Scottish Children's Books.Kyle wakes up in hospital – which is strange, because he doesn't remember being ill. And that's not all. He's also deliriously flitting in and out of the Darkest Corners, and in the shadow version of the hospital the surfaces aren't clean, and the sharp instruments aren't used for healing.It's Kyle's most terrifying experience yet, and it's about to get much, much worse.The doctor will see him now…The fourth installment of this darkly comic horror series
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For my agent and friend, Kathryn Ross, whose patience knows no bounds.
Contents
Dedication
Prologue
SEVENTEEN DAYS EARLIER...
Chapter One - THE HOSPITAL
Chapter Two - THE OTHER HOSPITAL
Chapter Three - THE OTHER OTHER HOSPITAL
Chapter Four - FINDING THE WAY
Chapter Five - THE SEARCH BEGINS
Chapter Six - THE THING IN THE TUBE
Chapter Seven - FACES IN THE FOG
Chapter Eight - THE DOCTOR IS IN
Chapter Nine - THE PORTER
Chapter Ten - THE SECRET HIDEOUT
Chapter Eleven - A TASTE OF HIS OWN MEDICINE
Chapter Twelve - FRIENDS REUNITED
Chapter Thirteen - A COMMON ENEMY
Chapter Fourteen - THE GALLERY
Chapter Fifteen - FROZEN WITH FEAR
Chapter Sixteen - CREATURE CLASH
Chapter Seventeen - TEN ELEPHANTS
Chapter Eighteen - CLOWNING AROUND
Chapter Nineteen - MISTAKES OF THE PAST
Chapter Twenty - FOSTERING RELATIONS
Chapter Twenty-one - CONFESSIONS
Also available in the INVISIBLE FIENDS series
Copyright
What had I expected to see? I wasnât sure. An empty street. One or two late-night wanderers, maybe.
But not this. Never this.
There were hundreds of them. Thousands. They scuttled and scurried through the darkness, swarming over the village like an infection; relentless and unstoppable.
I leaned closer to the window and looked down at the front of the hospital. One of the larger creatures was tearing through the fence, its claws slicing through the wrought-iron bars as if they were cardboard. My breath fogged the glass and the monster vanished behind a cloud of condensation. By the time the pane cleared the thing would be inside the hospital. It would be up the stairs in moments. Everyone in here was as good as dead.
The distant thunder of gunfire ricocheted from somewhere near the village centre. A scream followed â short and sharp, then suddenly silenced. There were no more gunshots after that, just the triumphant roar of something sickening and grotesque.
I heard Ameena take a step closer behind me. I didnât need to look at her reflection in the window to know how terrified she was. The crack in her voice said it all.
âItâs the same everywhere,â she whispered.
I nodded slowly. âThe town as well?â
She hesitated long enough for me to realise what she meant. I turned away from the devastation outside. âWait... You really mean everywhere, donât you?â
Her only reply was a single nod of her head.
âLiar!â I snapped. It couldnât be true. This couldnât be happening.
She stooped and picked up the TV remote from the day-room coffee table. It shook in her hand as she held it out to me.
âSee for yourself.â
Hesitantly, I took the remote. âWhat channel?â
She glanced at the ceiling, steadying her voice. âAny of them.â
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.
âThatâs New York,â she said.
Click. Another channel, but the footage was almost identical.
âLondon.â
Click.
âIâm... Iâm not sure. Somewhere in Japan. Tokyo, maybe?â 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.
âIt happened,â I gasped. âIt actually happened.â
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 heâd told me they would.
This was it.
The world was ending.
Armageddon.
And it was all my fault.
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 couldnât imagine it. I didnât 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, heâd been my imaginary friend. Eventually Iâd outgrown him, forgotten about him, moved on.
He, it turned out, hadnât.
Just over two weeks ago he came back and tried to kill me â 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 â by picturing something clearly in my head â I could make it happen. Iâd created fire. Iâd created weapons. Iâd even created a large, angry dog. And possibly a flying monkey, although the jury was still out on that one.
