‘Ad, El, George! Over here, I’ve found something,’ I yelled. They hurried over and examined the previous entries. They had been using children, children from the age a month up. I had another look around and saw the outline of a door that had been cleverly designed to look like part of the metal wall. I pointed it out to the others. They nodded and started walking over. I stood on one of the metal tiles and a familiar voice spoke.
‘STATE NAME AND POSITION’ I sighed. Blasted machine, I thought as I sighed.
‘Mr Hartley, Head of Science,’ I replied tiredly. I was preparing myself to answer other questions, when, to my surprise, the door opened. This room was the same size, but had fewer tables and even fewer specimens.
‘Look like Harley’s favourites,’ sniggered Elliot. We all shot glances at him and the smile faded from his lips. I found another book, this one thick with wrinkled cream coloured pages. I could just read the title.
A History of Mutants
By Mr Hartley
I shuddered. He was crazy. I scanned the title page for anything else and could just make out a date. 1899! How old was this guy? I put the book into my bag, which I had put back on over the suit. The bag, I realised, had left strap marks on my shoulders I had had it on so long! Groaning, I looked up at the tank at the far end of the room. It was huge, and contained a massive version of Elena. This filled me with such rage I found all the books I could and tore them up, smashing vials of formulas all over the floor. One of them had a label reading Formula Version 15: Do Not Touch – Highly Dangerous. I didn’t heed the warning, smashing it like the others. THUD! A heavy metal door closed. My heart froze, my features becoming tense. I heard yelling, then metallic footsteps. Lots of them. The others ducked under tables, but my legs couldn’t (or wouldn’t) move.
‘Got you, you stupid boy! At last! You nearly ruined my plans. Thankfully you didn’t find the for-mul-a’ he stared at the mess on the inner lab floor. ‘What have you done?’ he screeched in my ear, saliva covering my face.
His eyes became strained and he gulped. He threw me back to another teacher who held me in an iron, pincer-like grip. I tried to force myself to squirm, anything to get away, but I was like a lump of lead. Mr Hartley, however, was moving like something I can’t describe, hurrying around to see if there were any vials of FormulaVersion 15. I chuckled to myself, but the person holding me shook me until I was dizzy. When the teacher came back to me, he was spitting feathers, nearly literally.
‘You insolent wretch! I shall teach you to destroy my work of the last 15 years!’ he yelled, then slumped onto one of the nearby leather chairs. Nodding at my captor, I was released, only to be thumped on the back of my head. I just saw George, Adam and Elliot leaping out from under their respective tables and rugby tackling the teachers before my vision blurred and I passed out.