Crater Lake E-Book

Jennifer Killick

• Herausgeber: Firefly Press Ltd
• Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020

Seitenzahl: 230

Beschreibung

It could be the mysterious bloodstained man who tries to stop their coach, or the fact no one seems to be around at the brand-new activity centre when Lance and the rest of his class arrive for the Year 6 school trip, but something is definitely not right at Crater Lake! What follows is a fight for survival that sees five pupils band together to save their classmates from an alien fate far worse than death. But whatever happens, they must never, ever fall asleep!Times Children's Book of the Week and #PrimarySchoolBookClub read.

Leseprobe

Contents

Praise for Crater Lake

Dedication

About Jennifer Killick

Title Page

1. Geek, Robot, Overlord

2. Zombie

3. Entering the Crater

4. Soup or Blood?

5. Preparing for Action

6. In the Dark, Dark Woods

7. Spider Monkey

8. The New Rules

9. Dale’s Stash

10. The Hacker

11. The Chase

12. Alone in the Crater

13. The Hunter

14. An Unexpected Ally

15. Confession Time

16. Back in the Hive

17. Stuff Gets Bad

18. At Last

19. A Chance to Escape

20. The New Chets

21. The Ticking Clock

22. Facing the Future

Acknowledgements

Copyright

‘Crater Lake is the kind of book I’ll give to students who claim they hate reading because I know it will help turn the tide.’ Portable Magic Dispenser

‘Thrills, giggles and a whole lot of heart. Crater Lake might not be the best venue for a school trip, but it makes for a fantastic read.’ Bookwormhole

‘This is the fifth book by Jennifer Killick and it contains everything that we have grown to love from her writing. Realistic and personable characters, authentic dialogue and a cracking sense of humour. Somehow she manages to make even the most surreal characters and situations seem believable. But this time she has upped the ante a little and made the perfect horror/thriller for children from 9+’ Mister Bodd

‘Horror, humour and heart wrap around a plot that cranks up the tension from the start to heart-thumping effect. Don’t ever fall asleep it warns. There was never any fear of that; I couldn’t put it down!’ Miss Cleveland is Reading

‘A brilliant fast paced adventure to get your heart pumping. I read it in one sitting, completely engrossed and with adrenaline coursing through my veins.’ My Shelves are Full

For my dearest friends: Nic, Laura and Emma. If I ever find myself at Crater Lake, there’s no one I’d rather have by my side.

Jennifer Killick was mentored by the Golden Egg Academy and carried out a Creative Writing MA at Brunel University, which is where she got the idea for her first book,Alex Sparrow and the Really Big Stink. Jennifer lives in Uxbridge in a house full of animals and children.

Other books by Jennifer Killick from Firefly Press:

Alex Sparrow and the Really Big Stink

Alex Sparrow and the Furry Fury

Alex Sparrow and the Zumbie Apocalypse

Mo Lottie and the Junkers

by Jennifer Killick

1

Geek, Robot, Overlord

‘Anyone want to Geek, Robot, Overlord for the last cookie?’ I say, as the coach takes a sharp right on to a country lane.

‘But if you win, you’ll give it to Katja.’ Big Mak looks round from the seat in front. ‘If Kat wins, she’ll give it to you; if I win, Chets will whinge at me until I give it to him…’

‘And anyway, Chetan’s already eaten it.’ Katja peeps at us over the top of her seat. ‘Haven’t you, Chets?’

‘Why do you assume I’ve eaten it?’ says Chets.

I look at him and laugh. ‘You’ve got the crumbs of guilt around your mouth, mate.’

I pretend not to notice as Chetan makes out he’s cleaning off the bits of cookie while actually pushing them into his mouth.

‘Of course Chubby Chets ate the last cookie,’ Trent shouts from the back seat. He always ruins everything. ‘Geek, Robot, Overlord. Best of three,’ he says to his mates. ‘Loser has to share a room with Fangs and probably won’t make it through the night. Who wants to play?’

Everyone on the back seat laughs like Trent is the funniest guy in the world. I’ve known him since Reception and I can tell you, legit, he isn’t. And not just because most of his dumb jokes are about me. He just all round sucks.

‘If anyone gets to share a room with Lance, it should be me,’ Chets pipes up, totally missing the point. ‘I’m his best friend.’

‘Chubby and Fangy share a room, Chubby gobbles up Fangy’s tomb.’ Trent falls over the back of the seat in front, laughing at his own joke-slash-poem. I like to give respect where it’s earned but, let’s face it, not that clever or funny.

‘Wow – Trent made a rhyme,’ I say, rolling my eyes at his smug face. ‘Say what you want about me, but leave Chetan out of it.’

‘That’s OK, Lance – I can take a joke.’ Chets is kneeling on his seat, facing the back of the coach. Everything about him is neat and sensible, and he has eyes like balls of chocolate – all gooey and sincere.

‘Yeah, chill out, Lance,’ Trent says, and they go back to playing Geek, Robot, Overlord, which is the Montmorency Year Six version of Rock, Paper, Scissors. Trent claims he made it up during a wet break back in October, but it was actually me, Chets, Big Mak and Katja’s creation. It’s been used for making every important decision ever since.

‘Overlord enslaves Geek, I win again,’ Trent shouts.

Trent almost always plays Overlord, so he’s easy to beat. But his mates either haven’t realised or don’t want to make him mad, so they keep pulling out the Geek. All of them are so predictable.

‘Good one, Trent,’ Chets calls and turns and sits down again.

‘Why do you do that, Chets?’

‘Do what?’

‘Suck up to Trent. He’s not your friend and he never will be. I don’t understand why you would even want him to be.’

‘Mum says he’s a wonderful boy. And as we’re both going to Bing Academy, it makes sense for us to stick together.’

‘There will be hundreds of people at Bing. You don’t need him.’

‘Hopefully you’ll go up the waiting list really fast, and then you can come to Bing with me.’ Chetan smiles at me.

‘Mate, it’s a long list. It might take ages to get in.’ That’s what I say to Chets, but inside I know I’m never getting in. I didn’t take the entrance test and I’m not on the waiting list. I can’t tell Chets that, though.

‘And when you arrive, you’ll have Trent and me to show you around.’

The clouds are extra fluffy in Chets’ world.

‘Year Six – I want everyone to quieten down and face the front.’

Miss Hoche, the assistant head, stands up at the front of the coach, trying not to fall as it bumps up the country road. I always think saying her name sounds like you’re trying to cough up something nasty, which works because it’s how she makes me feel.

‘I’m now going to provide you with some information,’ she says, pronouncing the long words especially slowly and clearly for those of us who are too dumb to understand people speaking at normal speed – aka me, or so she thinks.

‘This information is of the greatest importance for ensuring you have a safe and productive trip. Some of you…’ (she looks at me) ‘…should be paying particular attention to the information about the rules.’

Damn, if she says ‘information’ one more time…

‘There will be stickers presented to the children who demonstrate exemplary behaviour.’ She beams at Trent, Adrianne and Chets. ‘And punishments for those who let the rest of the class down by being disruptive.’ I’ll give you one guess who she looks at when she says that.

She opens a leaflet and starts to read. ‘Crater Lake is a new and innovative activity centre, designed with the needs and safety of your children in mind to provide an unforgettable learning experience.’ She looks up. ‘We’re actually the first school to be trying out this centre, so we’re extremely fortunate.’

‘My mum is a parent governor,’ Trent says, loud enough so I will hear, ‘and she told me we’re stuck going to Crater Lake because some people’s scummy parents refused to pay for the good activity centres.’ More laughing from the jerks at the back.

‘The centre was built deep in rural Sussex, in a crater thought to have been formed when a meteor hit the earth’s surface hundreds of years ago,’ Hoche continues.

‘A meteor from space, Miss?’ someone asks.

‘Yes, of course. Where else would a meteor come from?’

‘A meaty rowing boat,’ Big Mak whispers from the seat in front of me and we crack up.

Miss Hoche glares at us.

‘The deepest part of the crater is home to Crater Lake itself, as the River Whist, which used to run past the site, took a detour many years ago and now feeds into the crater. The lake is the ideal arena for many of our daring water activities, such as swimming, canoeing and our epic game, “The Last Man Standing”.’

‘So sexist,’ Adrianne sighs. Adrianne is head girl, super-smart and looks kind of like an angry sparrow. You wouldn’t mess with her. If anyone in our class is going to win a game called Last Man Standing, I’d bet everything I own that it would be Adrianne.

‘Other outdoor activities include the climbing wall, obstacle course and the Leap of Faith.’

‘I don’t like the sound of that,’ Chets says.

‘Chets,’ I say, putting my hand on his arm for added reassurance. ‘They’re not going to let us do anything even slightly dangerous.’

‘That’s true,’ Katja nods. ‘There are laws.’

‘I heard you have to jump over a ravine filled with starving crocodiles,’ Big Mak says. Chets looks horrified.

‘The dormitories, chill-out zone…’ (the whole class rolls their eyes) ‘…dining hall and bathrooms are located in the main building, which is built on a rise in the crater.’ At this point I start to slip into a coma. Miss Hoche always says at least a hundred more things than are necessary.

‘Do I have your attention, Lance Sparshott?’ She’s suddenly standing right in front of my seat.

‘Yes, Miss.’

She leans in way too close to my face. I’m in the window seat, so Chets has to squash himself into the back of his seat to avoid any uncomfortable physical contact. Her breath smells like coffee and muddy dog.

‘You’re lucky to be on this trip. If there was any way I could prove what we both know you did at the beginning of the year, you would have been excluded. If you take even the smallest step out of line, you’ll be done, and there will be a black mark on your school record before you’ve even started at Latham High.’

She withdraws from mine and Chets’ seating area, like a swamp monster oozing back into its pit, and starts walking towards the front of the coach again. Chets is frozen, burrowed so far into the padding of the seat that if his skin was some weird purple and blue triangular print, he’d be totally camouflaged.

‘Bit too close for you?’ I say.

‘No words,’ he mutters, without blinking.

Katja giggles, and Big Mak coughs to cover a snort of laughter.

‘Something funny?’ Miss Hoche spins round.

We all look at the floor.

‘Stickers for everyone for excellent listening,’ Miss Hoche says. ‘Except Lance, Maksym and Katja.’

Yeah, no listening stickers for us – that punishment really burns.

‘The rules of Crater Lake are as follows.’ She nearly falls as she wobbles back to her seat where she left the leaflet. Katja and Big Mak are desperately trying not to laugh. Chets is motionless. Probably still in shock.

‘Six children – either boys or girls, not both – to a room…’

(Please don’t say what I know you’re going to say, Hoche).

‘Except for Lance, who has to have his own room due to personal issues.’

Whispers and sniggers all around. I hate her.

‘Nobody is to enter a dormitory other than their own. You must remain in your rooms throughout the night. Mr Tomkins, Miss Rani and myself will be watching at all times.’ She pauses to stare around at all of us, just to remind us how good she is at watching.

‘Never wander the site alone,’ she continues. ‘You must always be accompanied by a member of staff.’

Sucking the fun right out of everything as usual.

‘You must follow any and all instructions given to you by a member of staff. This is for your own safety.’

Chets nods enthusiastically.

‘And of course – have fun! Your experience at Crater Lake is going to be one you’ll remember for the rest of your lives.’

She smiles – I think she’s waiting for us to clap or something. There’s an awkward moment of silence and then stuff gets crazy.

The coach lurches at the same time as the driver shouts and the brakes screech. We all fall forward, smacking our heads on the seats in front. Miss Hoche stacks it full force and rolls around on the floor. Bags, books and sandwiches fly through the air, landing in sticky piles. Atul’s unicorn pillow gets covered in mayonnaise. One of Jordan’s limited-edition WWE wrestling cards flies out of an open window and flutters away to freedom. ‘May the force be with you, John Cena,’ I call as it disappears into the trees. A slice of ham catches in Chets’ hair, which is especially bad cos he’s a vegetarian. It’s chaos.

The coach skids to a stop.

‘What happened?’ Hoche gasps at the driver.

‘There’s someone in the road.’

Of course, everyone rushes forward, trying to see out of the front window.

‘Everybody back to your seats!’ Hoche screams above the noise, and she and the other teachers form a human barricade at the front of the coach.

‘I’ll call an ambulance,’ the driver says, grabbing his mobile and stabbing at the buttons. (It’s one of those old-fashioned ones without a touch screen you hardly see anymore.) ‘Has anyone got a signal? I have no signal!’

The teachers all check their phones and shake their heads.

‘Why do we need an ambulance?’ Chets says. ‘Nobody seems hurt.’

‘I don’t think it’s for us,’ I say, angling my head as far out of the crack of open window as I can. ‘I think it’s for whoever’s outside.’

All I can see is the empty road, and nothing but trees for miles around. I press my face to the glass again, so hot it almost burns my skin, at the same time as a bloody hand thumps against the window from the other side.

2

Zombie

‘Argh!’ I jump backwards into Chets as Katja screams.

There is a man outside. He’s wearing a torn polo shirt with the Crater Lake logo on it. His jeans are dirty and shredded. He’s bleeding from at least six different places that I can see, the worst injury being a gash across the side of his head. As I watch, a fresh gush of blood trickles quickly down his face. I’ve witnessed a lot of nasty stuff in my life, but I’ve never seen something bleed like that before.

Aside from the blood, the bruises, and the clothes that look like they’ve been lawn-mowered, the most horrible thing about him is his eyes. They’re bright red and swollen, and the skin around them is purpley-black. It sags off his face like a half-deflated bouncy castle from some kind of sick Halloween party. The guy is messed up.

‘Zombie!’ Chets shouts and the chaos of the crash that almost happened seems like a flipping tea party compared to what happens next.

Half the class screams and panics, trying to grab their most precious possessions, before realising all they have with them is junk because it’s a school trip and you aren’t allowed to bring your decent stuff, and hiding under their seats instead. The other half of the class bulldoze towards my bit of window in excitement, desperately trying to see the Crater Lake zombie before the teachers pull us away for our own ‘protection’, like they’d be able to save us from a zombie apocalypse.

‘I don’t think he’s a zombie,’ I say. ‘If he was a zombie, he would have eaten people, and there are no bits of intestines between his teeth.’

‘You’re right, Lance,’ Katja says. ‘He actually has very nice teeth. I think he’s just hurt. Maybe we ran him over.’

‘I didn’t feel us hit anything, and I reckon he’d be way more broken if we had,’ says Big Mak. ‘This coach must weigh at least ten tonnes. If we’d hit him, he’d be splattered all over the floor.’

‘Someone really ought to go and help him.’ Adrianne pushes through the kids towards the teachers. ‘That man needs first aid, urgently.’

‘Dale. His name’s Dale,’ Katja says.

‘I always knew Katja was a witch,’ Trent whoops. ‘She has those creepy eyes that can obviously see in the dark. And now we know she can read minds.’

‘Shut-up, Trent, you idiot.’ I turn on him, wanting so much to punch him in his nasty mouth. ‘Katja’s not a witch. It says Dale on his name badge.’

At last, the teachers get the balls to open the coach door and go outside. Dale is staggering around, his eyes half closed. He’s practically unconscious when Mr Tomkins approaches him.

‘Dale? Are you OK, mate?’

Obviously Dale is not OK, but Mr Tomkins is an alright guy, so I’ll let it pass.

Dale doesn’t respond.

‘Dale? Why don’t you come to the side of the road? We can lay you down while we get help.’

‘NO!’ Dale suddenly comes to life. ‘Need water!’

‘Can someone pass me some water for him?’ Mr Tomkins calls.

‘Bears!’ Dale shouts, grabbing Mr Tomkins with his crusty hands. He smears blood and some kind of green mush all over the pink T-shirt Mr Tomkins wears for every mufti school event cos he thinks it’s really trendy.

‘Calm down, Dale. You’re hurt, you’ve had a bump on the head.’

‘Get on the coach, turn around. Get us away!’ Dale is ranting and swaying. ‘They’ll get us if we stay here. They’ll get us all.’

Finally he loses his battle with sanity-slash-consciousness and keels over in the road, dropping like Santa’s sack at the end of his Christmas Eve deliveries. Miss Rani runs out with a towel to put under his head. He flaps his hands around weakly and looks like he might try to get up, but at last he goes limp and still.

‘Like a rotting goldfish,’ I say, as Mr Tomkins starts to cover him with a blanket.

‘OMG, he’s dead!’ Atul shouts.

‘I don’t think he’s dead. Probably just passed out from blood loss or shock.’ Big Mak seems strangely knowledgeable about life-threatening injuries.

‘Or he has concussion,’ says Adrianne.

‘I hope he’s not dead,’ Katja says, rubbing the grimy window with her sleeve to try and see more clearly. ‘No, look. Mr Tomkins hasn’t covered his head. They always put the blanket over the face if they’re dead.’

‘If he isn’t dead,’ I say, ‘he soon will be with that blanket over him. It’s about a million degrees today. Poor guy.’

We watch as the adults, who supposedly know exactly what they’re doing in situations like this, have a worried chat amongst themselves. Finally, Hoche gets back on the coach.

‘Right, children – it’s your lucky day. You get to start your Crater Lake adventure early!’

‘Is the dead guy part of the experience?’ Big Mak asks.

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Maksym. The chap outside has just had a bit of a bump on the head, so he’s having a lie down while he waits for some medical attention. He’s perfectly fine.’

We look through the blood-smeared window at half-dead zombie, Dale. Miss Hoche really does talk a load of garbage.

‘The driver is going to wait with him, and we’re going the rest of the way to the activity centre on foot. With the luggage. It will be like a cross-country hike.’

Of course everyone groans. It’s too hot to move, let alone drag our massive bags down a gravelly road.

Ten minutes later, we’re walking down the road in twos, loaded down with masses of stuff.

‘See you in a few days,’ Miss Hoche calls to the driver. ‘We’ll call for help as soon as we get to a landline.’

‘Have fun, kids,’ the driver nods to us, sweat dripping off his nose.

‘Eyes forward, please, children,’ Hoche says as we pass not-dead Dale and his blood-spattered section of the road. ‘Aren’t we fortunate to be surrounded by such beautiful countryside, and on such a lovely day.’

‘Not such a lovely day for Dale.’ Katja looks at him sadly.

‘How far do you think it is?’ Chets asks, looking around nervously. ‘Do you think there are bandits in the woods?’

Big Mak, Katja and I burst out laughing.

‘What is it? What’s funny?’

‘Only you would use the word “bandits”, Chets,’ Mak says.

‘I don’t think there are any bandits outside of the Wild Wild West,’ I say, pushing the strap on my backpack further up my shoulder cos it’s starting to dig in.

‘Well, someone attacked that guy,’ Chets says.

‘And did you hear what he was saying to Mr Tomkins?’ says Katja. ‘All that stuff about having to turn back or they’ll get us all.’

‘He might have been hallucinating – heat exhaustion or the bang on the head.’ Big Mak is the only one of us apparently not struggling with his bags. I swear he’s part giant.

‘Maybe he was mugged,’ Katja says.

‘I don’t think so. Muggers lurk in dark alleys or park bushes. They don’t hang out in the woods. They have to stay near the fried-chicken shops because that’s where they get their food.’

Chets says this with a completely straight face. This is why we love him.

We laugh so hard.

‘So we’ve ruled out zombies and muggers,’ I say. ‘What’s left? Badgers with a vendetta?’

‘Orcs,’ says Mak.

‘Tree monsters,’ says Katja.

‘Alien body-snatchers,’ I joke and even Chets laughs this time. ‘You were probably right the first time, Chets. It’ll be those pesky bandits. We’d better get to this cruddy activity centre and call the sheriff.’

As we trudge round the corner I see the looming gates of Crater Lake, starkly black against the clear blue sky.

3

Entering the Crater

By the time we reach the gate, we’re the kind of hot that’s so intense you can’t even remember what cold feels like. We dump our bags on the ground while Hoche looks for a way in. On either side of the gate is a spike-topped fence that stretches through the woods for as far as I can see. And on the other side of the gate there is only the dusty road and a butt-load more trees.

‘Shouldn’t someone be here to open the gate?’ Mr Tomkins asks. ‘I thought they were expecting us.’

Now that the moment of shock and horror is over, I can tell he’s seriously triggered about his favourite T-shirt.

‘I think it’s fantastic that they take security so seriously. The children are going to be completely safe here,’ Hoche says.

‘She’ll probably give them a sticker for that,’ I say, and the others laugh.

Without warning, the gates shudder and start to open.

‘Like magic,’ Hoche beams.

‘There are cameras, Miss,’ Adrianne says, pointing to the top of the gateposts.

‘Not Hogwarts, though, is it?’ Katja whispers.

‘More like Arkham Asylum,’ I say, as the gates rattle to a stop and the space between them seems to beckon us in a creepily silent way.

‘Where actually is the centre?’ Mr Tomkins says, looking down the winding road that disappears over the horizon. ‘Is it much further? It looks like miles.’

‘He wants to get his T-shirt in the wash,’ I say.

‘Before that stain dries in,’ Katja giggles.

‘I’m sure it’s not much further!’ Hoche grabs the handle of her wheelie case. ‘Come on – let’s sing some motivational songs to make the walk more pleasant.’

We all groan. Our mouths are rabbit-poo dry and the last thing we want to do is sing. Miss Hoche struts ahead anyway, pulling her case, which is cream-coloured with sparkly bits on it, the same as her jacket (yes, she’s wearing a flipping jacket) and shoes. Nobody has ever seen Miss Hoche wearing shoes that aren’t high heels. She wears them in the snow. She wears them on Sports Day. And apparently she wears them to activity centres in the middle of nowhere. William Breeming from Year Four swears he saw her when he was on holiday in Switzerland, and that she was wearing high heels while skiing. Nobody really believes that he saw her, because we all know that teachers don’t do anything with their lives outside of school, but the thought of her wearing heels on skis is not that much of a stretch.

So we walk for ages, until finally the road starts to dip downwards and we get our first proper view of Crater Lake.

The crater is bigger than I thought – it’s like a bowl set into the ground and it’s roomy enough to be the next Jurassic Park. A river wiggles back and forth down the least steep side and flows into the lake at the bottom. A wooden pier thing stretches from a hut at the edge of the lake into the middle, and there are canoes lined up against it. Halfway up the steeper side is a large building that looks kind of like a school, or a prison, although those are pretty much the same thing. There’s a flat, grassy area next to the building and I can see a climbing wall at one end and the obstacle course running across it. Overall it looks like either a completely awesomely fun place, or the perfect location for a Goosebumps book.

‘Do you think there are snakes?’ Chets asks, edging forward to peer down the slope of the crater. His foot catches on a mound of moss and he almost tumbles down the hill.

‘Oh, man!’

Chets is not a fan of nature.

‘Maybe little ones,’ I say. ‘Nothing poisonous.’

‘I wish we were sharing a room.’

I should tell you about how me and Chets became friends. Chets joined halfway through year one, when all the friendship groups were basically formed. Nobody made much of an effort with Chets. He wore his uniform too neatly and looked like a lost baby owl. I kind of felt sorry for him, but I had my own troubles to deal with. Anyway, he was standing on his own one lunchtime when a wasp landed on his ear. Everyone else screamed and laughed and ran to a safe distance, but he just stood there. The fear on his face was like nothing I’d ever seen before. He was more scared in that moment than I’d ever been of anything in my life, and I couldn’t stand it. I ran over and flicked the wasp away. I saved Chets and got stung in the process. It’s pretty much been like that ever since.