“Start of the holidays, most schools finished up on Friday,” Gary said. “That’ll be why the roads are so quiet.”
John looked out onto the deserted street through the tinted glass of the reception’s facade.
”It always amazes me how quiet it gets on the roads during school holidays. I mean, just how many kids drive cars?" he asked with a shrug.
“Oh, quite a few these days, Mr. Lund,” Gary replied.
“And all those parents who drive their kids to school—n0 wonder they're so fat these days. I don't know about you, Gary, but I had to walk four miles every day to get to high school. Not once did my father give me a run up to school.”
John failed to see the irony in his statement. He had never been lean in his school days despite the walk, and thirty years of office work and sales jobs had steadily added to his girth.
“I hear you, Mr. Lund,” Gary said. “Spoiled so they are these days.”
”Why’s it busy on the roads at eight in the morning when school doesn’t start till nine?” John asked, shaking his head. “It’s beyond me.”
“Suppose a lot of parents have to take time off during the holidays, too. Childcare’s expensive. That could explain why there are less cars on the roads during holidays. Why, our youngest—she’s got two—she’s forever dropping them off with my Carina. Plays havoc with my night shifts them shouting and screaming in the next room.”
John had tuned out well before Gary finished talking. “That would explain the racket outside. Damn kids with no parental control out drinking and causing trouble,” John said. Continuing with his own train of thought, he went on, “How the hell do they get the drink? For that matter, how do they get the money for drink?”
“Older kids or stolen from their dads, I guess,” Gary said. “In my day we’d sneak a glass or two out of my father’s whiskey bottle and top it up with water. Oh I got my backside tanned for that.”
John cut the security guard short. “Well, no point getting in early to stand around here chatting all day.”
He looked at the stairs leading to his first floor office, then down at the bulge around his waist. He stepped forward and pressed the call button for the lift. It illuminated with a circle of white. He looked up to see the counter and the arrow pointing downwards.
Fourth. There was a grumbling of machinery from somewhere beyond the closed doors.
Third. John run his tongue around his teeth, feeling for rough spots he might have missed when brushing this morning.
He glanced over and caught Gary’s eyes by mistake. The chirpy security guard smiled at him.
John returned the gesture with his own awkward smile. He knew that in the time it had taken for the elevator to arrive he could have made the hike up the stairs.
Gary was still smiling at him like a puppy wanting a treat.
The discomfiture was killing John.
“You on for the day?” he asked.
“No, I knock off at eight." Gary said. He unhooked his thumb from his belt and glanced at his watch. “As soon as Mo gets in I’m off to bed.”
“Oh,” John said.
There was a soft ping and the clunk of the doors releasing.
“Well, have a nice day," John said, lost of anything else polite to say. “You too, Mr. Lund,” Gary said.
The doors slid open with a metallic hiss. John turned to step into the elevator but immediately jumped back in fright. There was a flash of yellow and red and he was just inches from a wrinkled, ashen-faced creature lurching at him. Its eyes were dark and sunken behind skeletal cheekbones.
“Sorry,” John said instinctively, and stepped back.
“Nie ma problemu,” came the muttered reply.
Lumbering from the elevator came two cleaning ladies. The first pushed a cart piled high with paper rolls, the second an industrial silver and black vacuum cleaner. The one with the cart had dyed black hair and thin lips from years of drawing on cigarettes. Her companion, a much younger woman, wore a red and yellow football top of some team John had never heard of. The younger woman was almost attractive, but her face had an odd quality to it born of overly large eyes and an angular chin that didn’t appear in proportion with the rest of her face.
“Morning, ladies,” Gary said.
He unhooked his thumb from his belt and looked at his watch again.
What’s the point of that? John wondered. The idiot just looked at the thing.
“Smoko?” Gary asked the women.
The pair had more than a passing resemblance to each other. Dark hair tied in a high ponytail, pale ghostly skin, and a skinny figure that most women would die for, but on them just looked malnourished. They could be mother and daughter, or sisters, or just grown to look similar through years of doing the same menial jobs together.
“Yes, cigarette,” the older woman said.
John sidestepped into the carriage and pressed the button for the first floor.
***
The phone rang.
Colin thrust a hand out from the comfort of the bed sheets in an attempt to silence the noise, but accidentally smacked his knuckle against the corner of the bedside cabinet.
“Shit!” he cursed, flexing his fist.
Wide awake now, he gave up the pretence of getting back to sleep, and sat up.
Shaking off the throbbing from his fist, he picked the phone up from its cradle and held it to his ear.
“Hello?”
“Colin?” a voice said.
“Woody?” Colin asked, recognizing the voice.
“Yes, it’s Mr. Woods. I didn’t wake you, did I?"
Colin stifled a second curse, realising he’d just called his boss Woody. Panicked, he looked at his alarm clock, fearing he’d slept in. His heart rate halved when he saw it was a full hour before he had to get up.
“I was just getting up anyway, Mr. Woods,” he lied. “Why are you calling at this time of the morning?”
“It’s the school trip, Colin,” Mr. Woods said.
Colin rubbed at the corner of his eye, dislodging a crumb of sleep. “Yeah? What about it?”
“It’s going to have to be cancelled.”
Colin was shocked. “What?”
There was a faint crackle on the line.
“We need to cancel it.”
“We’re due to leave in four hours,” Colin said. “Why is it being cancelled at such short notice?”
“To be honest, I don’t know. There's some kind of public health scare going on.”
Colin threw back the bed sheets and stood up. “You've got to be shi—I mean are you serious?”
“No,” Mr. Woods said sternly. “There was an email on Friday that basically means if you go we don’t have insurance.”
“My Internet’s been down all weekend and the service number has been engaged, so I’ve not picked up any emails.”
“I’ve been running around all weekend trying to get us some kind of liability cover,” Mr. Woods said.
Colin walked over to his window, phone in hand, and pulled the curtains back a chink. The bright light assaulted his eyes and he let the curtain fall back into place.
“This is nonsense. Their parents have all signed waivers,” Colin said.
“Colin, you know that's not enough. We need to have insurance in place. Even if nothing happens, if the parents get wind of the fact we sent their kids into the wilderness with inadequate cover—” The line faded beneath a burst of static.
“What's going to happen?” Colin asked. “It’s a camping trip!”
Colin knew all too well what could happen: trip on a rock, a slip with a pen knife, popping the wrong berry in your mouth—there were a million ways a school trip could turn sour. But he was upset at the thought of the trip being cancelled.
The line cleared and the principal’s voice came back loud and forceful. “If something should happen off school premises…Well, you know how litigious people are these days and when you consider the kids you’re taking out.”
; “We’ve done all the risk assessment,” Colin said. “The paperwork’s clean.”
“We’ll be sued, Colin. We’ll be on the news. You and I both will lose our jobs.”
“Mr. Woods—”
“Have you got the money to pay for a lawyer?”
“What?” Colin asked.
“I don’t, Colin, and I’m on the highest pay grade there is for a principal. Look, I know you’ve been working hard on this, on the kids. You’ve done wonderful things, Colin. You have a real passion as a teacher and it’s refreshing to see someone who takes a real interest. Thirty years ago, when I was in your shoes, we’d have gone—and with a lot less aversion to risk than these days. Hell, we didn’t even have seatbelts in the bus back then.”
Colin sighed. “Mr. Woods...”
“I know you’re disappointed, probably more so than the kids will be.”
“I am,” Colin said, resigning himself to the fact.
“I’ve emailed all the parents and guardians who have email addresses and I’ll start phoning round them all once I’m off the call to you. But I need to ask a favour.”
“Uh-huh,” Colin said, knowing Mr. Woods did not expect his request to be turned down.
“I’ve got my hands full with this already. Can I ask you to go into school in case I don’t manage to catch everybody? Apologise that the trip’s cancelled and tell them we’ll reschedule just as soon as we can.”
“Yeah, sure thing, Mr. Woods,” Colin replied.
“I’ll send you a text with the names of the kids I get in touch with. At least then you'll have an idea of who you’re waiting for.”
Another bout of static came over the line.
“Makes sense,” Colin said, scratching the back of his head. “Will Jenny be there?”
“Miss Alvarez? I tried calling her, but the line’s dead. There’s not much point both of you going, anyway.”
“Suppose not,” Colin said, disappointment in his tone.
Mr. Woods didn’t seem to pick up on Colin’s dismay.He continued, “Well, I’d better get started on this list of reprobates. Makes a change calling their parents for something other than a disciplinary. I’ll speak to you later, Colin.”
“Yeah, catch you—”
The line went dead.
“Bit rude,” Colin said, looking at the receiver and listening to the irritating pulse tone. He put the phone back in its cradle and sat down on the edge of the bed. He ran his fingers through his hair and forced out a yawn.
Sunshine was trying hard to push its way past the curtains, but Colin was still feeling overwhelmed by its discouragingly bright touch. He decided to shower first before attempting another look at the summer’s morning.
He snatched up clean underwear and a shirt.
“He phoned Jenny first?” he said aloud.
This trip for the more difficult children had been Colin's brainchild, a way of instilling responsibility, dependability, and a whole host of other watchwords that looked good on the school’s audit report. He knew it would reflect well on a young geography teacher in his first job, but the real motivation was his chance to spend some time with Miss Alvarez. But yet he hadn’t been the first person Principal Woods had called.
Colin picked up the phone again and pulled up Jenny’s number from his contacts list. He pressed the call button and the phone beeped as it dialled the number.
The same irritating tone pulsed in Colin’s ear. He hit the hang up button and set the phone down again.
Maybe he called Jenny because she lived closer to the school, he thought.
Mr. Woods calling Miss Alvarez might not have been a slight on his reliability; it could have just been convenience.
He picked himself up and made his way towards the bathroom, disappointed that his chance to spend a week with a luscious redhead had just evaporated. In the hallway lay his already packed Bergen. His insulated hiking jacket had slipped from its position perched on top and was crumpled on the floor beside the two bottles of red wine.
He had planned to sneak them into his day bag and then hide them on the bus. Then, towards the end of the week after he and Jenny spent some time together and once the kids were put to bed, he had planned on breaking out the bottles.
The campfire, the starlight, the alcohol… and then Colin would make his move.
Still, he had the week free now and Jenny wouldn’t have any other plans.
He grabbed up a towel and threw it and his clothes in a bundle by the shower.
I’ll pop round to Jenny’s on the way home. Moan about how disappointed I am that the kids will miss out on such a character-building experience and then ask her if she’d like to have lunch.
Colin smiled and nodded, congratulating himself on such a brilliantly improvised plan.
Pleased with his new tack, he stepped into the shower and turned it on. A blast of ice-cold water hit him like a riot cannon. His muscles tensed and his eyes jolted wide open. He was now very definitely awake.
***
Tink!
Karen rolled over in bed.
Tink!
This time she opened an eye and held her breath.
Tink!
The noise was coming from behind the blinds. She swung her legs out of bed. Her foot landed in something sticky and wet. She looked down to see she had stood on an abandoned slice of pizza.
“Crap.”
She scraped her toes against the lid of the pizza box.
Tink!
She hopped over to the window, trying not to soil her carpet with her tomato- and cheese-coated foot.
Tink!
Karen gingerly pushed the blinds to one side to peek out of the window.
In her backyard Shan was pulling her arm back, about to throw another stone when she spotted her friend.
Karen tugged on the blind cord, letting the morning sun fill her unkempt room. She opened the window and called out in a loud whisper, “What are you doing?”
“You coming out?” Shan asked.
Karen looked around the empty backyards of the neighbouring houses. “What time is it?”
Shan shrugged. “Don't know?”
“Wait there,” Karen said.
Going back to her bed and picking up her discarded jeans she spun the garment round until she felt the hard lump of her phone. She retrieved it and toggled the screen until it displayed the time.
She shook her head. Ignoring the pizza topping stuck to her foot, she stormed back over to the window.
“Christ, Shan, it’s not even seven in the morning! It’s still technically night-time!”
She had the face of the phone pointing to her friend as evidence, not that Shan could read it from down in the yard.
“Sun’s up.” Shan pointed out.
“So? We’re on holiday—there's no school. We don’t have to get up.”
“How’s that matter?” Shan asked. “We would’ve just dogged it anyways. You getting out of your nightie or what?”
“I’ve been up all friggin’ night with ambulances going up and down the whole way through. You’d think there’d been a train wreck or something,” Karen said. “Anyway, why didn’t you just call me rather than throwing bricks at my window?”
“Long story. I’ll tell you when you get down here,” Shan replied.
“Wait there. I’ll shower and come out.”
“Not just let me in?”
“No! They’d go ballistic if they even knew you were here.”
“Your folks still think I’m a bad influence then?” Shan said, smiling.
Karen shook her head. “I’ll be down in a minute.”
“Got any breakfast? I’m famished.”
“I'll see what I can find,” Karen said, ducking back into her bedroom.
Karen found Shan propped up against the side of the house.
“Here,” she said, offering up a sandwich.
“What is it?” Shan asked, snatching the sandwich from Karen.
“Peanut butter and banana. And
you’re welcome.”
“Got any smokes?”
Karen frowned. “Nope. You scorched the last of mine last night.”
“Oh,” Shan grunted. She took a massive bite out of the bread. With her mouth still full, she mumbled out between chews, “Got anything to drink?”
Karen trotted back into the kitchen and re-emerged with a half carton of orange juice.
“Thanks,” Shan said, hand outstretched, ready for the drink.
“So, what’s up with you? Why are you up and about this early?” Karen leant up against the side of the house, shoulder to shoulder with her friend. “Wait—your dad didn’t kick you out thinking it was a school day, did he?”
Shan shook her head and swallowed. “Nah. Why would he care if I ever went back?” She took a second enormous chunk out of the bread. In two mouthfuls half the sandwich was already gone.
“So why the alarm call?” Karen asked, taking the first bite from her identical breakfast.
Shan sloshed the mouthful down with a gulp of orange juice. “Douche got into a fight again last night.” She pushed herself away from the side of the house. “Came in real late shouting his head off about getting jumped and reeking of beer. Asked me to phone the whole fucking world, like the police and the hospital and the army. He grabbed my phone and when he saw it was out of credit he tossed it across the living room.” She pulled out the device and showed its cracked and weeping screen. “It still switches on, but I can’t see a frigging thing,” she said, demonstrating the phone lighting up.
“What about your dad?” Karen asked.
“Eventually he passed out on the couch. I went back to bed—but get this: the next thing I know he’s clattering about the living room like some stoner. I came out of my room to tell him to shut up.”
Demise of the Living Page 2