tried again and again,
but it hardly budged. Were we trapped in our own
building?
"The snow?" Cait suggested. This time she helped
me push on the door, and it swung a bit further
open.
She was right. Outside it was still snowing and
the snow was piling up, almost blocking our front
door.
"Again," I said. "One, two, three."
We both heaved and the door edged open enough
for us to get through. Outside the snowy day had
turned to dark, dark night, and the snow was still coming down. The streets were completely empty.
Even the street lamps seemed to have lost their
colour. The entire world was cloaked in white snow,
turned eerie gray by the darkness. I shivered.
"Come on," Cait said. "Let's make this quick."
Ten minutes later we were creeping through the
school grounds, two lines of footprints trailing
behind us in the snow. The cold was biting at my nose
and draining my hands, but the rest of me was warm
with excitement and action. We didn't bother trying
to open the front door to the school. It would almost
certainly be locked.
"She won't be using doors," I guessed. "It's too
obvious. She'd be scared someone will see her. Plus
nukekubi don't need doors."
"So how does she get in and out?" Cait asked.
"What should we be looking for?"
"Dunno. But we'll know it when we see it."
And then we did. Through the falling snow
we spotted a window, a few rooms down from our
classroom. It was propped open when it should
have been firmly closed.
"A window," we both said, heading for the
telltale opening.
"But no one's been in or out of here since the
snow started," Cait hissed, pointing at the unmarked
snow beneath the window. She was right. There were
no marks or imprints in the snow, but I hadn't been
expecting any.
"Flying heads don't leave footprints," I said,
trying to sound brave. "The rest of her body will be in
here somewhere." I peered through the gap to check
the room beyond. No sign of a headless nukekubi.
It was deserted, filled with empty desks and chairs
and paintings hanging on a clothes-line.
Together, Cait and I forced the window open
a bit further. My frozen fingers were starting to hurt
in the cold.
"You go first." Cait scanned the empty
playground. "I'll keep an eye out for the flying
head."
"It won't be back for hours yet," I said. "Not till
morning." But I scrambled through the window all
the same. It was freezing out there.
Inside the dark classroom it was just as cold,
and deathly silent. The falling snow seemed to
suck out any noise.
"You in?" Cait hissed from outside the window.
"Yep, coast is clear." I looked around, rubbing
my hands together to get the blood back into them.
A few seconds later, Cait tumbled in through the
window. "Anything out there?" I asked.
"Nope, no one followed us." Cait stood up and
dusted the snow from her jacket. "Let's get moving
though." She slid the window back and clicked the
lock. "Even if her head does fly back early, it won't
be getting in through this window."
I grinned. We were actually doing it. We were
hunting the nukekubi.
"Where to?" Cait whispered.
"Our classroom?" I wasn't sure, but it was the
place we'd last seen her, and as good a place as any
to start looking.
Cait nodded, and together we headed across the
empty classroom to the hallway door. I could hear
my heart beating so loudly I was sure Cait could
hear it too. I peered around the door, searching the
darkness for what lay beyond.
Nothing moved. The whole corridor was silent,
empty.
"Come on," I whispered.
We sneaked out, scurrying with shoes squeaking
to our classroom. It was freezing in the corridor
and our breath made little clouds as we moved. I half expected them to turn to ice and fall cracking
to the floor as we walked. We went straight to
our classroom without stopping, just like when
the corridors were full of kids and teachers and
schoolbags. Except now the whole place was empty,
as silent and frozen as the