Crowam 281

by Frank Nunez

  "Sure I do."

  Hannah got up and walked toward a record player that sat on the shelf behind her. She started the player. A woman's voice boomed from the player, singing in French. "Would you like to dance with me Jake?"

  "Sure." I grabbed her hand. We began dancing by candlelight. I held her in my arms while we slowly swayed to the melody. I gripped her waist as she wrapped her arms on my shoulders. Her waist was small, waiting to be encircled by my arms. She was shorter than me. I stared into those hypnotic blue eyes. Her eyes made me understand why clichés are clichés.

  "You’ve never danced with a girl before, have you?" Hannah asked.

  "Sure I have. I've danced with plenty of girls."

  "You don't have to lie to me."

  "Who says I'm lying?"

  "I can feel you trembling."

  "Maybe you make me nervous."

  "Oh, come now. You don't have to be nervous with me." Hannah pressed her head against my chest as we continued to dance.

  "What's she singing about?" I asked.

  "The singer?”

  "Yea, she sounds sad."

  “She's singing about a man who left her. How lonely and miserable she is, not wanting to live on without her love."

  "That sounds sad. Awfully sad."

  "Jake?"

  "Yes?"

  "Have you ever been in love?"

  "No. Have you?"

  "I was never in love. I would like to fall in love. To be romanced. To share a life with someone. Do you..."

  "Do I what?" I asked.

  "Do you think I'm the kind of girl you could fall in love with?" She looked at me with those damn blue eyes again.

  I wanted to kiss her. I really did. To tell you the truth, I could have fallen in love with her right then and there. "You're a swell girl."

  "Swell?"

  "Yea, you know. Swell. Like, you're a great gal. Probably one of the prettiest in Europe."

  Her expression of delight transformed to displeasure. She walked back over to the record player and shut it off. The music stopped to a screeching halt. "Is that all I am to you, a swell girl?" Hannah asked.

  "Well, you don't have to get all sore about it. I meant it as a compliment."

  Hannah walked back over to me and wrapped her arms around my shoulder again. Her face was an inch away from mine. Her lips close enough to taste. "Do you want to kiss me?"

  I thought it was a trick question. I leaned in for a kiss. My lips landed on her cheek.

  "I'll take that as a yes," she said.

  "Hey, don't you want to kiss me?" I asked.

  "I guess you'll have to wait and find out now won't you?" Hannah squeezed my hand. It almost felt better than a kiss, but I would have preferred the kiss. "It's getting late. It's best that we start heading back." We grabbed the bottle of wine. Its’ contents swished back and forth. We went downstairs, through the nurse's office and out onto the hallway, which smelled like boiled cabbage. We checked to see if there were any guards.

  "The coast is clear," I said.

  We took a left. I noticed an open doorway leading to what looked like a larger room with only one ceiling light on. There were rows of beds stretching as far as I could see.

  "Hey, what's in there?" I started walking over to the door.

  Hannah pulled my arm. "You mustn’t go in there!"

  "And why not?

  "Please, Jake."

  "Oh come on. You haven't even given me the courtesy of a grand tour."

  "This isn't an amusement park, you fool."

  "You know something? You look awfully cute when you're mad. Has anyone ever told you that?" I playfully smacked her hand away and went inside the room.

  She followed me in, yanking on my shirt as if that was going to keep me away. It made me more curious.

  The rows of beds were covered in white linen bed sheets, neatly pressed on each bed with a fluffy white pillow adorning each top. In the back, the beds were separated by white screens, where you could only see a faint shadow of what was behind them. It looked like someone was lying behind it, eerily motionless. It was awfully quiet, but I could hear some activity behind the curtain. "What's this room for," I asked.

  "Please. We must go. If they catch you in here, there's no telling what they'll do."

  "What could they possibly do to me? Put me in another orphanage?"

  "You have no idea what this place is capable of."

  We heard footsteps outside the hallway. Hannah panicked. "Jake, lay on the bed!"

  "What? Why?"

  "Do as I say now. I beg you!"

  I got on the bed, befuddled by Hannah's demeanor.

  “Now I want you to look at the ceiling and make no sudden moments. And for God's sake, don't say anything."

  "Hannah you're not making sense."

  "Jake..."

  Before Hannah could finish, a man wearing a white laboratory coat entered with a clipboard. He was tall and slim, bald, and wore glasses like the one Mr. Hugo wore. He was professional looking. A no nonsense sort of man who was direct and forward. "Why, Ms. Byrne. I'm surprised to see you here so late this evening."

  "I'm sorry. I just got caught up with work Dr Sterg.. That's all."

  "Not enough time during the day to finish your work?

  "I've haven't felt so well the past few days. I have fallen behind a bit."

  "A bit overworked, perhaps?"

  "Perhaps, yes."

  "And who is this?" Dr. Sterg asked.

  Hannah moved my bed away from the light to disguise my face. I just looked up as Hannah instructed. I didn't say a word, but I was trembling underneath the bed sheets. I was trying not to laugh or scream. I felt the intensity boil in the atmosphere of a room that served a mysterious purpose. "Where is this boy’s paperwork?" he asked. Dr. Sterg looked me with this, “you’re a piece of excrement,” expression that made me realize that whoever was laying in those beds several rows ahead of me were not being treated very well. I wasn’t sure how long I could maintain my composure. I felt my muscles twitch underneath the bed sheets from the nervous tension of what may happen if Dr. Sterg discovered whatever it was Hannah was trying to hide from him.

  "Well..."

  "Is he scheduled for an examination?"

  "Not at the moment. No."

  "Then where is his paperwork?"

  "I was filling it out in my office."

  Dr. Sterg looked at his watch. "I am late. Make sure this boy’s paperwork is complete and placed on his bed immediately."

  "Yes, of course."

  Dr. Sterg sped off for whatever he was late for.

  "Jake. Please go."

  "Who was that guy?"

  "Damn it, you are as stubborn as a mule." She kept shoving me until we both were in the hallway. "We'll see each other soon. I promise."

  I snuck through the hallways again, escaping watchful guards and their flashlights. I made it to my dormitory. Thomas was asleep with a book laid open on his chest. I went straight to bed thinking about Hannah and the added shroud of mystery of Crowam 281.

  Chapter 17

  I was known throughout Crowam as “the American.” I don't know what all the hubbub was about, but my being an American made me stick out like a sore thumb. Maybe it was the way I talked, which was not proper and well-mannered like the Brits. Tom especially liked calling me a Yank, the tall goofy bastard. I wonder if he knew that he was a goofy bastard. Some guys knew they were goofy bastards, while others were completely oblivious to it.

  I was back in Professor Vanden’s class. I was intoxicated with boredom. It was hard trying to stay awake. Vanden was lecturing us about the Russian Revolution. I didn't give three shits about the Russian Revolution. Vladimir Lennon, the Czar. Figures in history that I had very little interest in. His eyes lit up with excitement, talking about Lennon as if he was some sort of prophet. I never met a communist before. I always heard about how dangerous communists were, but I didn't see what the big deal was. All Vanden did was talk about how workers ne
ed to unite and capitalism was the exploitation of the poor. I don't think anybody in class even knew what the hell he was talking about. I think he just liked hearing himself talk. Vanden lectured on about the past and its relevance to the future and the historical context of not just the Russian revolution but also other events that shaped the modern world. His pompous attitude gave the impression that he thought he was the ambassador of all that his history and that he holds the key to knowledge and understanding. Frankly, he just seemed like a hypocrite.

  As far as I was concerned, everybody was a hypocrite; some people just make it more obvious than others. Communists, fascists, they all were the same to me. I quit trying to listen to Vanden’s lecture. Hannah preoccupied my mind. I wanted to see her again. I though about what the other students were thinking in their chaotic minds. I doubt it was about history. But with every lecture Vanden made sure he planted the seed of propaganda into the minds of each student to contribute in his own way to a new world order.

  I saw some of the other boys drift off. Mr. Vanden would grab his trusty ruler and smack each sleeping boy upside the head. You could tell he took pleasure in it, just as much pleasure as talking about Lennon gave him. "Gentleman. I have the results of your assessments. The purpose of the assessment was to determine your field of occupation once you leave here. I think you'll find the assessment enlightening.” Vanden went by each student with his clipboard, one by one blurting out one menial job after another. Tom made out as a mechanic. How the idiot got that is beyond me. I wouldn’t trust him with fixing a tinker toy let alone an engine.

  Vanden finally made it to me. "Ah Mr. Hudson. Let us see here." He examined his sheet of paper. He grinned with pleasure, enjoying his inquiry of my destined occupation. “Well, well, we have ourselves a garment worker. How quaint.”

  “Garment worker?”

  “Why yes.”

  “Why a garment worker?”

  “You shouldn’t question my assessments Mr. Hudson. I created them myself. The exam is based on complicated matrixes and calculations that you will not understand. You’ll be a true worker.”

  “What if I don’t want to be a garment worker?”

  Vanden didn’t like my questions. He got all flustered, moving his head awkwardly through sheer frustration. “We each have our role, our destiny in society.”

  “Perhaps I am naïve when it comes to the ways of the world, but who the hell are you to tell anyone of us what our destiny is? What if we want to become a writer, doctor, maybe a circus clown, hell, anything? But it’s our choice, not yours or anybody else’s.”

  The class erupted. The boys lashed out at Vanden, declaring their disgust for their predetermined occupations. “I don’t want to be a bloody mechanic!” Tom yelled, nearly knocking his desk over as he stood up. The others boys declared their independence.

  It was pure anarchy in Professor Vanden’s class. Mr. Vanden went for his ruler. But I smacked it out of his hand. “It’s our choice,” I said. I stood over him, he backed away slowly to the rear of the classroom, as we behaved like boys who wanted to raise hell and piss off authority.

  Later that day, I was back in Mr. Hugo’s office. Two guards watched me as I waited outside the hall. I could hear Professor Vanden screaming in Mr. Hugo’s office. He was mad. It felt good knowing I pissed him off. I could hear it in his voice.

  The door exploded open when Mr. Vanden exited the office. He looked at me with disgust. I could tell he truly detested me. That made me feel good.

  The two guards grabbed me by the arms and shoved me in the comfortable chair in the office, leaving me with Mr. Hugo. There wasn’t a hint of expression on his face. His hands sat folded on his desk I noticed his fingers were long and wiry as they wrapped over each other like snakes rolling over themselves in some sort of pit in a God forsaken jungle. For a moment, we said nothing to each other, as if we were waiting for the other to say something first. I decided to make the first move. “So what’s it going to be?”

  “Silence!” His scream was monstrous, yet precise. It was directed at my confidence. I nearly jumped out of my seat. The scream did not require much effort, but it was the first time I saw Mr. Hugo showing any emotion. I felt uncomfortable in his presence. I wanted to leave, but couldn’t. “I see you don’t like Professor Vanden’s class.”

  I was afraid to answer him, not wanting to hear him yell again. Teachers yelled at me before, but not like Mr. Hugo. It scared the hell out of me. “You’re unsatisfied with the quality of education we offer at Crowam?”

  “I guess I’m not much of an academic.”

  Mr. Hugo got up from his chair and looked out his office window. “At Crowam, we try to shape young minds, mold them to be good citizens, teaching them their place in society.”

  “What a crock of s**t,” I whispered.

  “What was that?” Mr. Hugo approached me, his face only inches from mine. “Are you looking to try me Mr. Hudson?”

  When I looked into his eyes, there was an inexplicable lack of emotion or empathy. I shivered, knowing that I was staring into the face of evil. Then he went to look out the window again. “Would you like to leave, Mr. Hudson?”

  “What?”

  “Would you like to leave?”

  “I actually have a choice?”

  “You stressed the importance of choice in Professor Vanden’s class. I think we should put it to the test. You have a choice. If you don’t like your stay at Crowam, you’re more than welcome to leave.” The guard opened the door. “The guard can escort you out.”

  I got up and walked out the door. The guard escorted me out to the main entrance of Crowam. He opened the steel doors. I made my way outside. Charles, Felix, Thomas, Owen and the rest of the boys were at the opposite end of the courtyard with several guards keeping watch.

  “I told you I would get you back, boy.” The Bus Driver stood in front of the exit of Crowam, which included a large steel gate with a statute of a gargoyle on each side. “You’re not leaving here so easily. You’ll have to get through me first.”

  I looked behind me. The entrance door was open. There was Mr. Hugo’s lesson on choice. I could have ran back like a coward, in front of the populace of Crowam or take my chances with the Bus Driver. I charged toward him like a raging bull, throwing myself at his mid torso. He picked me up by the shoulders and tossed me to the ground. The ground was hard and cold. Pain shot up my back. I got back up and began wailing at him. My fists landed on that big beer belly of his, which felt like I was punching granite. With every punch, he chuckled. I lowered myself and punched what felt like a bundle of genitalia. That’s when the laughter ceased.

  I didn’t even see it coming. I should have. His hands were heavy and massive. The back of his hand landed on the left side of my face. I fell to ground again in agony. My face felt like it was on fire.

  “Come on, you can do better than that,” he said.

  I felt like crying. I laid there on the ground ready to cry like a fool. I could feel my eyes become watery. I fought against the tears. I wouldn’t let him get the best of me. I was filled with embarrassment and rage.

  I picked myself up again. I charged at the Bus Driver again. He cocked back and threw a straight jab. I landed on the ground in a blur. I felt blood run down my face. The Bus Driver laughed, the ground hard and cold. The fight, if that’s what you even want to call it, was over and so was my lesson on choice.

  There was a certain early morning quality to the day, even though it was early afternoon, where you still felt lethargic until something worth a damn happens. I don’t remember much after the fight. I panicked a bit when I saw blood on my shirt. For a moment, I thought I was dead. There were some figures around me that I couldn’t decipher. I heard some voices, again indecipherable.

  When I finally came to, I was inside Hannah’s office. The guards plopped me on the examination room. I thought if I wasn’t dead I was going to die at any moment. My body ached, especially my face. I touched my cheeks and noise. My finge
rs were stained with blood.

  I went over to the sink and splashed some water on my face. I looked up at the mirror. My face was bruised. Blood dripped out of my nose. I thought my nose was broken. I rinsed my face again to wash off the blood and dirt. My whole body was covered with dirty and mud. I felt absolutely filthy.

  I was embarrassed to see Hannah in my condition. I took off my sweater and splashed some water underneath my arm pits. I cleaned my sweater the best I could. My stomach felt horrible. I hated feeling this way, feeling vulnerable and unsure of myself. I saw the door open.

  Hannah entered the examination as if she expected to see me in this condition. But she stilled showed some concern for my well-being. “What on earth happened to you?”

  “I fell down the stairs.”

  “Don’t lie to me. I know that’s not what happened.”

  “Then why did you ask?”

  “You’re such a stubborn bastard, aren’t you?”

  I began feeling dizzy again. I almost felt like fainting. She noticed my disorientation. “For God’s sake, sit down Jake.” Hannah helped me back onto the examination table. She got gauze, bandages, and rubbing alcohol from the cabinet behind her. She affectionately ran her hand down the side of my face, her smooth hand soothed my pain. “Who did this to you?”

  “The Bus Driver.”

  “Why?

  “Let’s just say it was Mr.Hugo’s way of teaching me a valuable lesson on choice.”

  Hannah said nothing. She examined my noise, wiping the blood off of it. She stuffed it with cotton to stop the bleeding. “Keep this there for a few minutes. My goodness, you’re lucky your nose isn’t broken.”

  “Aren’t I the lucky one.”

  “Lucky you are. That monster of a man could have killed you.”

  “Nah. I would have held my own. I was just taking it easy on the guy. Didn’t want to embarrass him.”

  “This isn’t some joke, Jake. He could have killed you. I’ve seen him…” She bit her tongue and kept on bandaging my face. Her face was consumed with concern.

  “Don’t you remember anything we talked about?”