Crowam 281

by Frank Nunez

“I gave you a piece of my biscuit on the bus. Is that all you think about?”

  “Oh bloody hell. Perhaps you’re right.”

  The kid in front of me was skinny as a rail. So skinny, the wind could have blown him away. He wore these old beat up trousers and a brown shirt that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in weeks. “Say, you know anything about this place?” I asked.

  “No. Nobody does.”

  “Nobody? Why are you here?”

  “I punched a teacher.”

  “You punched a teacher! No shit. Why?”

  “He called me a no good Catholic bum.”

  “Sorry to hear that.”

  “I gave him a good wallop. Hit his head right on the floor.”

  “Why did he call you a Catholic bum?”

  “Don’t know, suppose it’s because I’m half Irish. The bastard. So I suppose you’re a yank, huh?”

  “I make it pretty obvious, huh?”

  “Pretty damn obvious if you ask me. What is a Yank like you doing here in England?”

  “My dad was a pilot for the RAF during the war. He flew B-17s. He was shot down over Germany.”

  “Sorry to hear that. I really am. Damn bloody shame.”

  “Thanks, what’s your name?”

  “Owen. Yours?”

  “Jake Hudson.”

  A loud whistle blew in the distance. Several guards came out from the entrance of Crowam. The Bus Driver, along with two guards who were patrolling the courtyard, conjured in front of the building. “Alright, everybody inside. Single file!”

  The guards wore light blue shirts with blacks pants. Each one carried what looked like billy clubs or batons. Once we got inside, we were escorted into an auditorium. “No talking!” one of the guards yelled. It was a tightly run ship.. The guards went through the numbers like this was routine. The operation ran more like a prison than anything else. It wasn’t like any school I’ve been to. It didn’t even feel like a school.

  I sat between Charles and Owen. “What do you think this is all about? Maybe it’s a show.” Charles looked at us for answers.

  “I doubt the guards are going to be singing show tunes to us, Charley,” I said.

  “Charley?” Charley said.

  “Yea, that’s what I’m calling you from now on. Charley,” I said.

  “But it’s Charles.”

  “Well to me, it’s Charley. Get used to it.”

  “I suppose I have no choice?”

  “What are you going to call me, Jake?” Owen asked me.

  “Just Owen,” I said, not wanting to get involved.

  “That’s all?”

  “You’re name just isn’t catchy.”

  “I said no talking!” a nearby guard said.

  I thought the guard was going to give me a good one right across the face like the Bus Driver did to poor Charley. You could tell they were itching for trouble, clinging to their billy clubs, just looking for a good excuse to use them.

  The lights in the auditorium were dimmed. A stage light pointed directly to the podium with just a single microphone. From the corner of the stage came the devil himself. He wore these wire-rimmed glassed with slick black hair. He had these blue eyes hiding behind his glasses and a razor sharp jawbone, looking like he didn’t have an ounce of fat on him. He stood in front of the microphone, examining us like we were a lab experiment, surveying the room, looking for anything odd or peculiar. It seemed like an eternity before he said anything.

  The boys looked at him with more curiosity than fear. Boys tended to stay a bit naïve to the human condition. We were foolish to the despicable things men are capable of.

  The man stared directly to the back of the auditorium. “My name is Mr. Hugo. You will only address me as such. Most of you are here because the state no longer feels you are worthy of staying in any of the orphanages England has to offer. You have abused the privilege of staying in such institutions through misbehavior and mischievous actions. Make no mistake, gentlemen. That sort of behavior will not be tolerated here. You will abide by the rules of this institution.

  “The rules are simple yet firm. You shall do as you’re told. Stay within the confines of the perimeter gate and treat yourself and those around you with courtesy and care. If you follow those few guidelines, I assure you your stay here will be tolerable.

  “If, however, you choose to break the rules, you will be punished. You are permitted three reprimands during your stay here, each one with its own consequences. Believe me when I say, you do not want to break the third reprimand, gentlemen. The consequences can be severe. Finally, I want to say what a privilege it is having you all here. Good day.” Mr. Hugo left as quickly as he arrived.

  “He doesn’t pull any punches does he,” I said to Owen.

  “He looks like a miserable prick,” Owen said.

  “You said it.”

  Chapter 4

  Sometimes I wonder if life is one big practical joke. Maybe it’s just one long gag with the punch line being on your deathbed realizing what you really missed out on in this world of ours. I never understood why things happen. I always hear this bullshit that everything happens for a reason. How can you know the reason when you never really find out what the reason is? Maybe life is this spontaneous clusterfuck that doesn’t make a damn bit of sense. Maybe that’s what makes life that much more exciting I guess.

  Life would be pretty boring if we knew what was coming around every corner. But I often wondered why all us boys were destined to be held in that God forsaken place. How is it possible that life was so spontaneous that I coincidentally crossed paths with Charley, Owen, Mr. Hugo, and the other boys in this place? Anyway, after the meeting “adjourned,” the boys were put in their dormitories, two boys to each room. My room was at the end of the hallway on the third floor. I came into the room to find this kid with his feet plopped up on the wooden edge of the bed reading some book by a guy named Dickens. I couldn’t see his face at first because he held the book so close to his face. I decided to make myself comfortable before I would introduce myself.

  I tossed my baseball mitt on the night table behind the bed and my luggage beneath the mattress. I was tired from the long trip, especially because of Willy’s stupidity the night before. I practically threw myself on the bed, even though it wouldn’t give one inch. I thought I broke my back into a thousand pieces. The bed was hard as a rock, even for an orphanage. I think I would have been better off just sleeping on the tile floor.

  “What are you reading there?” I asked the kid. He didn’t even bother to say a word. Not one peep. I might be a pain in the ass, but I sure wouldn’t be rude during a formal introduction. I guess not every Brit can be proper and all. “My name is Jake Hudson…..?” I stuck my hand out trying to make the introduction more formal.

  Would you believe it if I told you that the kid didn’t budge? Just kept reading that damn book. Boy was I peeved. I mean, talk about being rude. Here I was, making a complete ass out of myself to this kid. I felt like taking that book and chucking it right at his face. Boy, that would have made a scene. My first day here and I already was causing trouble. Wouldn’t that be something? But I was just too damn tired to start trouble. I just stared at the pale white ceiling till I dozed off.

  That night sleeping, I didn’t hear a peep from my roommate. It was like he wasn’t even there. Or so I thought. I usually woke up around three in the morning, for some reason I didn’t know. Call it a habit I guess. I felt a strange sensation when I woke up. It was creepy as hell, to tell you the truth.

  In the corner of the room, I saw my roommate’s face illuminated by the moon’s light, just staring at me. I jumped out of that bed like a crazy person. I nearly fell over and knocked my head on the front bed stand. I rushed to the light switch and turned on the light.

  He was just sitting on his stool, with an eerie face. Like from one of them old photographs. “Did I startle you?” he asked.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  “I’m so
rry if I startled you.”

  “Why were you looking at me like that?”

  “Like how?”

  “You know damn well how. Like you were just now.”

  “I like to observe my surroundings. I’ve never believed in wasting a night like this by sleeping. Just look at the moon. Isn’t it radiant?”

  “Maybe you should be admiring the moon by yourself, pal. Why didn’t you say anything to me when I introduced myself before?”

  “Again, my sincere apologies. When I read, I don’t like to be bothered. I like to immerse myself in whatever piece I’m reading.”

  “What were you reading?”

  “It’s nothing important. Nothing you will understand.”

  “What does that supposed to mean?”

  “It’s not an insult, I can assure you. My name is Thomas.”

  “I’m Jake Hudson.”

  “Ah, Jake Hudson. A pleasure to gain your acquaintance.”

  I couldn’t believe my luck. I had the worst luck with roommates. First, my old pal Willy and now Thomas. Maybe there was such a thing as destiny after all. Maybe I was meant to room with jackaloons who have no social skills.

  Thomas was the soft-spoken type. He had a small stack of books underneath his bed. I was never much of a reader. The occasional comic and nudie mags were all the “literature” I was into.

  It was the middle of the night and I was all riled up. Thomas looked like he didn’t have a care in the world. “What are you here for, Thomas? You don’t seem like the troublesome type.”

  “I’m afraid it’s a long story.”

  “I got all night.”

  “No really, not tonight. Perhaps tomorrow. We’ve accomplished much this evening.”

  “We did?”

  “Yes. We’ve formally introduced ourselves. Now we’re friends.”

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Don’t be gawking at me in the middle of the night like that again. “

  “Again, my sincerest apologies, Mr. Hudson. It won’t happen again.”

  “Just call me Jake. Here are the ground rules. Don’t touch my stuff. You stay on your side of the room, and I’ll stay on mine. And no gawking.”

  “I believe you established that already.”

  “Well I’m saying it again.”

  “Fair enough, old chap. I am going to retire for the evening. Good night.”

  There I stood in the middle of the room with the lights off while Thomas went to bed. I lay in my bed, shut my eyes, and pretended to be somewhere else, away from this damn place.

  Chapter 5

  At breakfast the next morning, we were served some sort of porridge with mystery meat that tasted like sausage, although I didn’t want to hazard a guess. You should have seen Charlie, though. That boy sure could eat. Ate like a damn champ, if you asked me. He even had the gall to ask for seconds. Could you imagine that? Eating seconds of that crap. Hell, I had trouble eating it the first time. Owen didn’t eat much. He spent most of the time playing with his food.

  “Aren’t you going to eat?” I asked.

  “Not very hungry.”

  “Lost your appetite?”

  “It’s easy to lose you’re appetite with this rubbish.”

  Charlie dug his spoon right into Owen’s porridge, practically stuffed his hand with it. “Mind if I have some of yours?”

  “What the hell are you doing Charles?” Owen yelled.

  “What?”

  “ You ask first, then you help yourself.”

  “Sorry.” Charlie put his spoon down. “Can I have some?”

  “No, you may not.”

  “But you said you weren’t going to eat it.”

  “I changed my mind.”

  “Can I have just a little?”

  “You fat bastard. You already had your serving.”

  Charles looked at me with these empathetic eyes. I took a big spoonful of the stuff and shoved it in my mouth. I smiled at the fat bastard. He looked like he was going to cry. “It’s for your own good, Charles,” I said

  “But I’m hungry.”

  “That’s the problem. You’re always hungry,” Owen said.

  “That’s not true. I was satisfied last night.”

  “What, for an hour?” I said

  “Can I just have a little?”

  “You sound like a child,” Owen said.

  “I’m not a child. I’ll be eighteen in six months.”

  “You’re as mature as Winston Churchill himself. A true man’s man,” I said.

  “You really think so?”

  “Of course.”

  “Oh, you’re just poking fun at me.” Charlie pouted.

  “Why would I want to do that?”

  “Oh, leave him alone.” From the corner of my eye, I saw my new “best friend,” Thomas, walking over to our table. What was this weirdo going to pull now? All I could think about was this kid staring at me in the middle of the night while I slept. The thought of it gave me goosebumps. “Mind if I join you fine gentlemen?”

  I wanted to say no. I would rather watch Charles stuff his face with more porridge.

  “By all means. Make yourself at home,” Owen said.

  “Couldn’t find another table?” I asked.

  “I normally sit by myself. But I thought it would be splendid if I had lunch with my new roommate.”

  “Roommate? Well, any roommate of Jake’s is a roommate of ours,” Owen said.

  “Thank you.” Thomas placed his tray on the table. He polished his fork and knife with his napkin. He positioned his plate and utensils like he was playing some sort of chess match, setting his pieces in proper order. He unfolded his napkin and placed it on his lap, then repositioned his plate and utensils.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “I’m eating.”

  “You call that eating?”

  “I don’t understand what you mean?”

  “Forget it.”

  “Say, what is your name?” Owen asked.

  “Thomas, and yours?”

  “I’m Owen. You already know Jake, of course.”

  “I’m Charles!

  “Would you not eat with your mouth open!” I yelled.

  Food just flew out of Charles’s mouth. “Say, Thomas, how long have you been here for?”

  “Two weeks and three days, to be exact.”

  “What goes on around on here? This is not your run of the mill orphanage,” Owen said.

  “How do you figure?” Thomas said.

  “Well, for starters, look at all the guards.”

  “Maybe they’re here to protect us?” Charles said.

  “From who, the boogeyman? Hell, the Bus Driver smacked Charley here in the face on the ride over.”

  “It hurt too. My cheek is still red.”

  “It’s not the first time a boy has been hit in an orphanage, Jake.” Thomas took a bite of food.

  “Maybe. Say Thomas, you know anything about this Mr. Hugo guy?” Charles got engaged in the conversation.

  “Not really. I haven’t seen him much. But the boys that have been here seem terrified of him.”

  “Why?”

  “I wish I knew. There are rumors of course.”

  “What kind of rumors?” I needed to get to the bottom of this.

  “I hear that Mr. Hugo was a former British Colonel who spied for the Germans, that he specialized in torturing and interrogating POWs and double agents. But I mean the worst kind of torture. Other rumors that he was a doctor who abused his patients, conducting unusual experiments liking removing their brains and putting them into animals.”

  “Oh give me a break,” I said.

  “I also hear that boys have gone missing, disappeared, never to be seen again.

  “Disappeared?” I didn’t believe that. People couldn’t really disappear.

  “Yes. It’s frighteningly odd, Jake. But, of course, they are only rumors. I try not to take such claims seriously.”

  “By the way, you still haven’t
told me why you’re here,” I said.

  “You’re still curious about that aren’t you?”

  “Yea,” I said.

  “It’s quite embarrassing actually.”

  “Oh come on, you’re among friends here, right fellas?” If I had to live with this kid, I needed to know what he was about.

  “Do tell us Thomas,” Owen said.

  “Well, if you must know, it was because of my grades.”

  “Your grades?”

  “Yes. I received perfect marks in all my classes. At the end of the school year, I earned a perfect score on my proficiency exam.”

  “I’m a little confused, Thomas. You’re saying you were put here because you got straight A’s?”

  “They thought I was cheating. I would never do such a thing. Of course, they had no proof. Nonetheless, that didn’t matter.”

  “Looks like you got the raw end of the deal.”

  “I suppose that is one way to put it.”

  “You’re a smart egg, Thomas. Don’t let anyone tell you different,” I said.

  “A smart egg? What on earth does that mean?”

  “Brother, why do I bother opening my mouth.” The bell rang. “Alright boys, looks like lunch is over.” They escorted us from the lunchroom and out into the courtyard.

  Chapter 6

  After lunch, we headed to the courtyard. We went through this narrow hallway that displayed pictures of some old geezers that probably ran the place before any of us boys were even born. I noticed on the way to the courtyard that many of the windows were either boarded or covered up. One of the boards covering one of the windows had a crack where you could see outside.

  “What are you doing, Hudson?” Owen asked.

  “Wait a sec.” I noticed something odd when I looked through crack of the window. It was a courtyard blocked off from the rest of the building, with high reaching cement walls surrounding the yard. I noticed some people standing in the courtyard. Funny thing is, they weren’t really doing much. They weren’t running around or playing ball or anything. They just kind of stood there. Some of them didn’t even have any hair. “Owen, take a look at this.”

  “I would keep moving if I were you, Jake,” Thomas said.