Eye of a Boy: Blood Wars

Robert Cousins was an ordinary, adolescent pupil at St. Joseph's High School until he encountered a malevolent Hell-hound on a mission to slaughter two innocent men. Or so he thought. With him and his friend's gaining powers by the day, will he be able to scrape a victory at the eleventh hour?


7. Intervention at the detention


            For the last two lessons, Robert was departed from the world rotating around him. He blatantly chose to ignore Ben’s relentless taunts on the lunchtime events. The speed of gossip for voracious teenagers was faster than that of light. In his penultimate lesson, Physical Education, Robert endured Mr. Thrust’s tedious speech on the groin reflexes because it meant a few moments longer enveloped in his mind frame. Before he could produce a reason for his behaviour, the final bell echoed throughout the hallways.

            As every other student left the school grounds, Robert and Ben moped to the Lab. Every time they had ventured there within the last twenty-four hours they had experienced some mind-boggling predicament.

“So,” Ben eventually asked, a confounded look upon his face. “Do you reckon Mr. Droner is an intergalactic dictator set to vanquish us all, a time travelling sorcerer with a vendetta against Camelot or a man who was bitten by a radioactive tarantula?”

“What the bloody hell are you babbling on about?” retorted Robert; it was the first words he had spoken in hours.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t wasted hours replaying what happened to Droner and those guys yesterday?” back chatted Ben inquisitively. “We have stumbled right into a mystery my friend – embrace it!”

“Listen, I’ve got enough on my plate without wondering whether Droner’s a depressant or a Martian,” barked Robert. “Can you just grow up? Also, what’s this with you nicking Eve’s belongings?”

            Ben occasionally used a façade where he would blank out other peoples’ speech if he did not agree with their train of thought. This was one of those moments.

“Maybe we could be his homo sapien sidekicks,” Ben fantasised dreamily. “I could be Incredible Lad and you could be Gerbil Boy. It would be an internet sensation.”

“Gerbil boy?”

“Well, you need a joke act!”

“I am not going to be anyone’s fu…”

“Stop cursing Gerbil Boy!”

“I’ll throttle you if…”

“Benjamin Supercalifregilistipsalidocious Cook,” Eve Bird bellowed as she rounded the corner.

            Both the arguing Robert and Ben stopped in their tracks.

They were both terrified to be in the presence of someone who despised them. Simultaneously, they weighed up their chances between reaching the science lab and Eve catching them. Without a debate, the fled to their own salvage - Mr. Droner’s room. Eve broke into a sprint behind them.

            A few metres ahead of Eve, Ben scrambled into the room, yanking Robert behind him. Without hesitation, Robert banged the door as to lock their frenemy out. Despite the repetitive banging on the sealed door, Robert and Ben let down there guard.

“Super what?” giggled Robert, despite their situation.

“My Mum is obsessed with Mary Poppins!” snapped Ben, much to Robert’s amusement.

            Once upon a time, a wise, ancient man breathed the immortal words ‘out of the frying pan and into the fire.’ For eons, people have contemplated their meaning. Alas, the two friends finally know the definition.

            They could smell the distinguished aroma of excrement and rotting flesh lingering in the lab. At first they believed it to be remnants of previous experiments. Then they noticed the fresh manure in a trail on the floor – leading towards the blind spot of the lab. Fresh was the key word.

            Begrudgingly, Robert and Ben followed the trail. As there was no remains backtracking, it was clear whatever had caused this was still contained in the room.

            Now, any normal person would have immediately fled. But these two people assumed that it was only a meagre puppy that had a paper cut. Maybe Droner had purchased a bleeding gerbil. But they knew that none of those arguments were plausible.

            Not when they saw the limp, mutilated body of their teacher.

            Blood seeped out of every possible crevice. His scraggly hair had been torn out in lumps. Droner’s eyes had melted within their sockets. His stomach had been mauled, leaving behind only a gaping hole. Whatever had done this was a feral abomination!

“Is that…?” Ben left the question hanging.

“Droner,” gulped Robert. “Something has killed our teacher!”

            At that precise moment, Eve staggered into the room, baring her teeth. Like a primitive predator, she pounced at Ben. But before she could lay a finger on him, she noticed the remains of their tedious Science teacher.

“What the bleeding hell did that?” she shrieked, staggering with nausea. “Please tell me Prank Patrol are going to come in any minute and portray us as mindless imbeciles!”

            Then, a sonorous growl came from behind the trio. It was only brief but it made enough of an impact. Scared witless, Robert rotated in hope that the noise was nothing more than a figment of his imagination.

            But what he saw what nothing that could be produced by anything hallucinogenic.

            A five-foot hound was prowling around the dishevelled lab tables. Piercing fangs flashed, showing that the beast was not afraid to make use of his canines. Bleak, white eyes depicted nothing more than what resembled a stereotypical winter scene. Protruding out of his knobbly feet was contorted, yellowed nails. But none of the listed where its most distinguishable feature.

            That would be the fact that it had three streamlined heads.

            Without hesitation, it pounced. Taken aback, Robert dived out of its path, leaving it to crash into the unsuspecting Eve. She was sent tumbling into the floor. As if a chain reaction, Eve began to weep in sorrow. From its bewildered expression, the Beast was certainly not expecting tears from what he suspected as a threat after her witnessing the evidence of murder. In an almost benevolent way, the beast withdrew from Eve’s body.     

            That was when Eve’s face convulsed as if experiencing a physical fit. But when her body came to a halt, she had a feral glint in her swollen eyes. Minuscule teeth obtruded from the upper lip. Her face had creased in agony.

“Hhedloe fhhdyebdh hegdjheofnbh!” screeched the beast that had once been Eve before leaping at the hound.

            Then, a sickening feeling enveloped Robert and Ben. At first they believed it to be related to the horror of witnessing Eve covert into a merciless hybrid. But then Robert’s measly muscles began to expand and his two eyes morphed into one. Intuition began to take over as he felt the strength of his mind depleting.

            Beside him, Ben’s skin began to liquefy like candle wax. What remained of his body was a hollow skeletal form which looked as eroded as a corpse. That was mainly because Ben was nothing more than a member of the undead.

            Just as the two Monsters regained their focus, the Hound discarded Eve as if she was a rag doll. They had seriously underestimated their opponent and they had believed him to be a serious threat in the first place.

“ HUEEHFEHDH!” Benjamin bellowed as he withdrew a ribcage bone to use as a weapon.

            But before Ben could react, Robert wrenched off the Hound’s middle head. Instantaneously it stumbled backwards. Before the Hound could recover, Ben plunged the bone into its heart. With a final breath, the Hound imploded.

            As if an impact of the Hound’s sudden demise, the trio reverted back to their homo sapien form.

“Well,” smirked Benjamin crudely. “That was relatively melodramatic!”

“What the bloody hell just happened?” Eve was grasping at straws for an explanation to their change in form.

“Stop cursing!” scolded Robert, although he was in a similar situation.

“Indeed,” concurred an unknown participant in the conversation. “What has happened here?”

            Swivelling around, the trio came face to horn with a humanoid bull in a lab coat. It was not something someone saw every day.

“Arnold Sniffer is the name!” introduced the figure that Robert and Ben vaguely recognised from their escapade of the previous day. “And solving Hellhound murders is my game!”


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