The Gender Fall (The Gender Game #5)(111)

On Monday morning, Natalie was looking sprightly again. He drove her to school and guided her to the reception, where he left her to have a meeting with the school’s exchange program liaison.

Then he made his way to the classroom where his first lesson of the day—history—was due to be held, and found it empty. He sat down and pulled out a book on marketing, which he read while students trickled in, until Colin sat down next to him and started telling him about a surprise weekend camping trip his parents had taken him on.

When their teacher Mrs. Lambert arrived, she was followed by Natalie, who waved at him.

And then the gray thing in rags stepped in behind her.

Alex almost choked on his tongue.

It was the same as before. Its skin was still sickly gray beneath the bright, fluorescent glare, the rags hanging off it yellowing and frayed, fluttering in an unseen wind. Alex’s eyes bulged as the claw-like hand raked slowly through the air, reaching for Natalie, clasping for the back of her head.

This can’t be happening.

He glanced quickly around, but once again, nobody else seemed to notice anything was wrong, and the thing in rags slid into the room after Natalie. Mrs. Lambert tied her graying shoulder-length hair back in a ponytail, introduced Natalie to the class, and then grabbed a marker. Alex gaped as she calmly wrote out the day’s lesson plan on the whiteboard, then quickly looked back to see the thing shuffling along in Natalie’s wake, following her to an open desk before hunching to whisper in her ear.

Somehow, seeing this creature here, in a perfectly ordinary classroom he visited every day, right in front of Mrs. Lambert, unnerved him even more than seeing it at the party. He must be out of his mind. Hallucinating—definitely, yes, but why was his hallucination so…specific? So focused on Natalie?

Mrs. Lambert began the lesson, oblivious to the corpse-like figure whispering into her pupil’s ear. Alex, mind whirling, did his best to follow her lecture, but couldn’t refrain from shooting his eyes over to Natalie every few seconds.

The thing didn’t move much, save for its lips. It crouched now, rags spilling out around its feet like a pool of gray liquid, jagged hands grasping the sides of Natalie’s desk. It was whispering incessantly, almost feverishly, into Natalie’s ear, and caressing the desk as it spoke.

“Alex?”

Alex blinked, looking up. Mrs. Lambert was smiling at him expectantly, her marker held between two fingers.

“Yes?”

She looked a little surprised. “I was just asking,” she said, “if you could explain to the class what the Hobbesian state of nature is?”

In the corner of Alex’s eye, the thing’s lips were fluttering as it whispered, as distracting as the buzzing of a fly. He answered Mrs. Lambert absentmindedly, his attention on the apparition.

“Hobbesian…yes.” He ran a hand through his hair, trying not to look at Natalie. “Ah, philosopher Thomas Hobbes deduced in the seventeenth century that man’s natural state is one of equality, but believed this equality to take the form of…of continuous warfare. Since man is naturally pitted against his fellows, Hobbes argued in favor of embracing a strong sovereign, with absolute…power”—he cut his eyes at the ragged thing—“seeing this as the only possible way to avoid constant bloodshed and, um, civil war. Though it seems extreme, one must remember that he wrote Leviathan, in which this theory is expressed, during…during the English Civil War, a particularly bloody time in England’s history.”

Mrs. Lambert beamed. “Excellent, Alex. Very well put. Would anyone like to expand on Alex’s answer?”

Chris, a ginger-haired boy with a slash of freckles across the bridge of his nose, eagerly raised his hand. Alex glanced back to Natalie, unable to push the hallucination from his mind. He heard a bunch of girls whispering and giggling behind him, clearly thinking their conversation private. They seemed highly interested in the attention he was paying Natalie, but he ignored them, gritting his teeth, refusing to look at the hallucination again, trying to focus solely on the lesson.

Chris was just finishing his answer. “Therefore,” he said, voice whistling out through his teeth, “when lived alone, life is nasty, brutish, and short.”

Mrs. Lambert nodded, turning back to the board and writing the three words: Nasty. Brutish. Short.

“And, can anyone tell me the Latin phrase Hobbes used to describe this? Alex, I’m sure you know it; go ahead.”

Alex paused a moment. Natalie was starting to lean listlessly to the side, head drooping toward the figure beside her. It tensed, flexing its long, pale fingers.

“Bellum omnium contra omnes,” he answered, not taking his eyes from Natalie.

Mrs. Lambert made some exclamation of praise, but Alex wasn’t listening. He knew the figure wasn’t real, wasn’t anything, but he felt chilled to the bone nonetheless. It was cradling her head now, pulling her close to its chest, running its hands over her as if excited.

Natalie raised a limp hand. “Excuse me, I…I don’t think I’m feeling well,” she said, her voice oddly toneless. “Is there a nurse?”

“Why, yes, Natalie,” Mrs. Lambert replied, looking concerned. “You do look a bit unwell. Her office is just at the end of this hallway—turn left and it’s only six doors along.”

Alex shot to his feet, shoving his books into his bag and saying, “Mrs. Lambert, I should probably go with her.”