The Red Road

by Stephen Sweeney

  I made to leave, when I saw something moving in the darkness, a shadow elongating in the moonlight seeping in through the windows. The shape halted as they saw me, giving a start. They then came a little further forward, hesitated and stopped completely. Not a goblin, but a boy.

  “Who’s that?” the boy asked. They appeared to be a first year, wrapped in a dressing gown and wearing slippers. They were most likely on their way to the toilet. I had clearly scared them.

  “It’s Joe,” I said.

  “Joe?”

  “Crosthwaite.”

  The hesitation continued.

  “Did I scare you?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Don’t worry. I was just visiting someone,” I explained. “Go back to bed. Or the toilet, or whatever you were doing.”

  I started off myself, leaving through the door I had entered by and beginning to make my way across the ground, back to Butcher. I figured that the boy, whoever they were, would discover sooner or later that I wasn’t in Tudor House and would begin to question why I was there. I didn’t want him doing that, as I didn’t exactly know why I was, either.

  I had a hunch, though, and I didn’t like it one bit.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Aside from the sleepwalking, I was a good sleeper in the main, albeit a light one. I generally had few problems getting to sleep, my habit of reading a book before switching off my light calming me enough to allow me to sleep well. Some of the other boys would talk after the lights were out, but I would ignore them. I sometimes even found the whispered conversation that went on helped to lull me off even quicker.

  Tonight, however, I was unable to drift off. I wasn’t sure why. Maybe I was feeling anxious about the results of my mocks, which had now concluded, and my ongoing desires to see the back of St Christopher’s as soon as possible. Even more so after my bust up with Craig Priest. If I didn’t get good grades in my mocks, then I might not be admitted to the college I so desperately wanted to attend. Regular classes had resumed this week at school, and I had tried to tell myself that what was done was done.

  But my insomnia could perhaps also be attributed to my fight with Priest. Though we had both given each other a wide berth, and making only the briefest of eye contact if we did happen to pass one another (which was thankfully rather infrequent, due to the two of us being in different houses), I could still feel hatred for me radiating from both he and his friends. Would they act on it again, or were they simply hollow threats?

  I looked at my watch. The illumination on the hands wasn’t working very well, and I couldn’t tell the time. I drew back the curtain above my bed to let in a little light. Twelve minutes past one. Damn. I was useless on less than six hours sleep, and it was looking as though I would struggle to get that. I would probably fall asleep around four and then be a zombie for the rest of the school day. I knew what I needed to do to get some rest, something I hadn’t done for a long time. Well, not intentionally at any rate.

  Slipping out of bed, I pulled on my dressing gown and slippers and crept over to the door, planning on taking a walk around the school for ten or twenty minutes, to calm myself down. I wasn’t sure why it worked, but I found that after a little stroll I was more settled and would then fall asleep quite quickly. Perhaps it was because it was cooler than in my bed and helped my body to slow down.

  I hesitated as I made to pull the doorknob. As this was a rare occasion, and after everything that I had been through in the past couple of weeks, I decided that I may as well indulge myself in another one of my casual activities.

  Returning to my bed, I pulled open my bedside locker’s drawer as quietly as I could, picking up my keys from within and using them to unlock the tuck box that lived under my bed. I held the padlock as I did so, so that the sound of the mechanism releasing wouldn’t wake the others. Open, I felt around inside, moving stuff about until I found what I was looking for. There were five cigarettes left in the packet, as well as a nearly full lighter. I locked the box again and made my way from the third year dorm.

  ~ ~ ~

  I wandered the dark and desolate corridors of the main school randomly for a time. I glanced into the shadows as I passed, weary of ... something. I had no idea why they bothered me. There would be nothing lurking there.

  The corridors were cool, cooler than I had actually expected. After the mild weather we had experienced a couple of days before, the climate had righted itself and the temperature had plummeted from its fifteen degrees, back down to three. My parents had been amused to hear about the freak weather we had experienced in Wessex. Surrey was still as cold as it had been at Christmas, and even Baz’s and Dave’s parents had confirmed that London wasn’t nearly as hot as we had had it, even with all the smog and the inner city temperature gains.

  I guessed the little taste of spring must have been localised to St Christopher’s. That didn’t surprise me, as odd things happened here all the time. It was sometimes as if the school wasn’t connected to the real world and would flux into parallel realities as and when the fancy took it. I felt a radiator as I passed. The heating was on, but had been turned down after eleven p.m. Most would fail to notice, as they would be tucked up in warm beds.

  I discovered that the exit door I had been heading for was locked. It was a simple bar lock, however, and was easy to open. I would lock it again once I was done. I stepped outside, the cold air hitting me immediately and making me instantly appreciative of the warm bed I had recently left. With what I was wearing, I would probably only be able to tolerate the cold for about five minutes. My bare ankles would suffer the most.

  I didn’t walk far outside, only a few metres from the door, slipping around a corner and hiding in an alcove, where I lit the cigarette. I took a drag, enjoying the taste and the warmth that came with it. I could already tell that after my night-time expedition was done with I would sleep well.

  I looked about as I smoked, seeing a light on, high up. Was it coming from one of the toilets? I wondered. Probably not, the window frame was all wrong. It looked more like a boy’s room. I knew that some of the sixth formers stayed up late to get work done, especially those preparing for Oxbridge exams. St Christopher’s was trying to put a stop to that, insisting that they get to sleep at a reasonable hour and get up for breakfast. Some would choose to skip breakfast, staying in bed longer, either getting up just in time for a nine a.m. class or having a lie in if they didn’t have to be up for anything. Oddly, some sixth formers chose to eat in their own rooms, bringing in cereal, bread, milk, and spreads from home. Crazy, I thought, when the school was already laying on food. Why pay for something twice? Maybe by that age they simply didn’t wish to sit in a refectory full of rowdy thirteen and fourteen-year-old boys ...

  “And what do you think you’re doing up at this hour?”

  The cigarette flew from my hand as my heart leapt into my throat, and I began choking profusely. I looked about to see that a tall, black-cloaked figure had arrived by my side. I prepared to run, fearing that on tonight’s little venture outside I had finally been discovered by little Scott Parker’s killer. I then realised who was actually standing before me – The B.F.G.

  “I ... I was just out for a walk,” I stammered, my heart still beating furiously in my chest. “I couldn’t sleep and thought that a walk around the school would help me to relax.”

  “Hmm,” Father Thomas said, his eyes moving to the cigarette on the ground, which still burned where I had flung it. “You do know that smoking is against the school rules and leads to fines and a letter of warning home to your parents?” he asked, his breath visible in the cold night air.

  “I ...” I couldn’t think of any excuse. It was clear that the monk had seen me smoking from a long way off, the hot red glow of the end of the cigarette as I took each drag acting as a beacon of sorts. He had then made his way over, sliding as silently as a ghost, only revealing his presence when he was right next to me.

  He held out his hand. “Give me
the rest of them, Joe,” he asked.

  I did so, parting with the four cigarettes that remained, as well as the lighter, my eyes moving to the one that still burned on the ground. Father Thomas’ foot moved to it at the same moment, and the man crushed it under his shoe.

  “What are you doing up so late, Father?” I asked. “Couldn’t sleep either?”

  “I’m keeping boys such as yourself safe, Joe,” Father Thomas said. “We patrol the grounds at night, to make sure the school is secure.”

  We? He must have meant the other monks. They led peculiar lives down in that monastery. “Have you just started doing so recently?” I asked.

  “We’ve always done so.”

  “Always?” I asked.

  “Always. More of us do it now after Scott’s death.”

  I had never known. I thought back to a few nights ago, when I had walked all the way from Butcher to Tudor without being seen. Was he making this up perhaps? I hadn’t seen any sign of monks or staff, either. I wondered next how Scott Parker had been murdered? How had they failed to spot something like that? Had the killer watched and waited patiently? Or was the killer actually one of the monks themselves ...? The fleeting thought left my head as quickly as it had entered.

  “You shouldn’t have opened that door,” Father Thomas said, nodding back to the way I had left the main building. “It’s locked for a reason – to stop anyone from getting into the school.”

  “I would’ve seen them going in,” I said, trying to reassure the man.

  “That’s not the point, Joe. You’re not to open any doors after they’ve been locked at night.” The monk looked at the cigarettes in his hand and then back at me. “I didn’t know you smoked,” he said, sounding both surprised and disappointed.

  I couldn’t help but chuckle. “And I suppose you have a list of everyone at the school who does?”

  “Actually, we do,” the monk answered, his expression deadpan. “The trouble is that you need to catch them in the act, and it’s not always that straightforward. Otherwise, you’re just making false accusations.”

  True. “I don’t smoke very often,” I said. “That’s the first one I’ve had this year, and I can’t remember the time before that. I wasn’t sure if the cigarettes would’ve even lasted to be honest.”

  “That doesn’t excuse you, and most parents don’t like finding an extra twenty-five pounds added to their bill at the end of term, on account of their son breaking the rules.”

  My heart sank. I was hoping Father Thomas might actually just confiscate the cigarettes and let me off with a warning. “I know, I’m sorry,” I tried. “It’s not like I do it a lot.”

  “Again, that’s not the point,” Father Thomas said, “and, as I’ve already told you, you shouldn’t be out of bed. So that’s three things you’ve done wrong in my eyes. I’ll have to have a word with your housemaster in the morning. Could you remind me what house you are in again, please?”

  I considered lying, but what good would that do me? “Butcher,” I admitted.

  “Thank you. I expect Mr Somers will have a word with you tomorrow. Now, please get back to bed. I don’t want to catch you out of your dorm again tonight.”

  Great. I could end up being gated, I knew. I didn’t relish the thought of sitting in a classroom all Sunday, in detention, a second blow after having to endure church in the morning. I walked back through the door I had unlocked, Father Thomas following me in and securing it behind us.

  “Joe, just a moment,” the monk then said. “Weren’t you recently involved in some trouble with a couple of sixth formers?”

  “Three sixth formers,” I said. “They attacked me in the shower. Completely unprovoked.” Not entirely true, as I had provoked one of them.

  “Hmm, I heard about that. Didn’t you also find Scott Parker when you were out running on the Red Road, last term?”

  “I did. I was the first to find him and reported it to Mr Rod. I had to see the headmaster and give a witness statement to the police, and have a chat with a psychologist,” I added.

  I knew I was playing the sympathy card pretty strongly now, but I would rather avoid a letter home to my parents reporting my misbehaviour. That would practically seal my fate to remain at the school, my parents not trusting me to live at home. To my relief, Father Thomas’ face took on the sympathetic expression I had been seeking.

  “Hmm,” he said. “That couldn’t have been a very nice experience. You’ve not had an altogether pleasant year so far, have you?” He looked at the cigarettes and lighter in his hand. “Okay, I won’t report you to your housemaster ...”

  Excellent, I thought, unable to keep my smile down.

  “... but, instead, I will recommend you be put on the Murga List this Friday.”

  Oh, holy fucking shit, no! That was worse!

  “Uh... couldn’t we just forget the whole thing?” I ventured, my heart thumping just as hard as it had when Father Thomas had first loomed up beside me.

  “No, Joe,” Father Thomas said. “I’m sorry, but I need you to learn that smoking and walking around the school at night are against the rules. Now, please go to bed before I change my mind.”

  Like I was going to sleep now. I said nothing further and trudged back off to Butcher, making my way up the Marble Stairs and wending my way along the various corridors. The darkness and the shadows no longer bothered me, as I was now about to experience something one hundred times more terrible.

  ~ ~ ~

  I came to my dormitory, opening the door quietly and padding softly over to my bed.

  Click!

  I spun about as the lights came on, seeing Anthony Simmons standing by the switch, grinning. Most of the other boys were awake, too. Only Sam was still asleep, stirring slightly in his bed. The opposite of me, he had always been quite a heavy sleeper.

  “What are you doing?” I asked absurdly. “Why are you all awake?”

  “Ha, ha! Busted!” Simmons cackled.

  “What?”

  “Where’s the tape, Crotty?” Charlie Smith, sitting up in his bed, wanted to know.

  “Tape? What tape?” I genuinely had no idea what either of the two were on about.

  “Kerry Oldman’s porno tape!” Simmons said excitedly.

  “Everyone knows about it,” Darren Smith said.

  “What?” I asked, completely baffled.

  “The porno that Oldman brought in from home. Where is it?”

  I had no idea what the three were on about. “From what I’ve heard, Kerry Oldman has a copy of Return to the Blue Lagoon,” I said, looking between the three grinning boys, “but I’ve not heard about anything else.”

  “No, not that shit. A proper porn,” Simmons repeated. He was actually starting to sound a little frustrated that I wasn’t forthcoming with all the details he wanted.

  “Someone stole it from Oldman’s dorm,” Darren Smith jumped in.

  “And why do you think it was me?” I asked incredulously.

  “Because we heard you get up and open your tuck box! You’ve obviously been hiding it in there and went to watch it and have a wank!” Simmons said.

  “What? No!” I spluttered. It was the most ridiculous thing I had ever heard.

  “So, what were you getting from your tuck box?”

  I hesitated at that point. They had heard me open my tuck box and retrieve something inside. I couldn’t admit to them that I smoked, as that would lead to all sort of complications, including being pestered constantly for cigarettes. Sure, I might now smell vaguely of smoke, but no one seemed to have noticed.

  Simmons looked about my person. “Where is it, Crotty?”

  “I don’t have it,” I said, shrugging and patting at my clothes to prove I wasn’t concealing anything.

  “It’s under his dressing gown,” Charlie Smith said, clearly unconvinced.

  “Yeah, take off your dressing gown, Crotty,” Simmons ordered.

  “Okay, fine,” I growled at them, taking off my dressing gown and throwing
it on the bed, standing before them in my pyjamas and showing everyone in the dorm that I truly had nothing concealed.

  “He probably knew we’d be waiting for him and hid it somewhere else, so he can get it tomorrow,” Darren Smith remarked.

  “Where did you put it?” Charlie Smith wanted to know.

  “Did you go to the classrooms?” Simmons said.

  “No, he’s left it in the film room, where they have the World Film Club, because he knows only the saddos go in there,” Darren Smith then theorised.

  “Guys, seriously,” I said. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know anything about a tape. I went for a walk because I can’t sleep. I took a torch out of my tuck box so that I wouldn’t have to turn on the lights.”

  “Where is it, then?” Simmons said. He was absolutely insistent that I had somehow acquired Oldman’s porno tape and would stop at nothing to get it. It was becoming increasingly clear to me who it was that was desperately in need of masturbating.

  “I threw it away because it’s crap and doesn’t work any more. But I was just caught by Father Thomas, who’s doing the rounds.”

  “What?” Simmons asked. The three members of the Clique suddenly looked a little concerned.

  “Father Thomas is patrolling the school grounds. He’s going to report me to Mr Somers in the morning for being out of bed. The teachers and monks now patrol the grounds in shifts at night, apparently.”

  “Really?” Simmons asked.

  “Yes, really! After what happened to Scott Parker, the school—”

  “Parker?”

  “The boy from the junior school,” I informed him. “After they found him dead, the staff have decided to turn this place into Fort Knox. Now, switch off the light before we all get into trouble. The B.F.G. is probably going to come up here in a minute, to make sure I’m in bed. Seriously, turn off the light!” I said as I got into bed, pointing at the switch by the door.