The Gated Trilogy

by Matt Drabble

  The sharp edge of the axe protruding out of the console broke her fall as the soft base of her skull landed on it. She hung on the silver blade with blood seeping from her lips. Her legs bucked and jerked in a macabre death dance as her eyes glazed over until she finally fell still.

  The blow to the back of his head was still ringing in his ears.

  He put his hand up to his throat which came away soaked red and slippery.

  His legs felt weak and he slid down to the floor. His breathing became rough and he gurgled as he fought a losing battle to stem the tide and the darkness overtook him.

  ----------

  Barnaby yelled into the CB again, but to no avail. For a second he had thought that he heard someone on the other end, but now there was only static.

  He was wondering just what the hell he was going to do next when the power went out.

  The CB radio fell silent and he was left alone in the dark. The pounding at the door had stopped and he could only pray that the sudden blackout had shocked the children back into reality.

  He stood frozen to the spot, not knowing what to do next. He could only hope that someone had heard his dislocated voice drifting across the airwaves.

  His thoughts were interrupted as he heard the door slide open gently and slowly. It had not been broken down by brute force, only meekly surrendered to a stronger will.

  Barnaby stood shivering in the dark as small hands lifted blunt and sharp tools from their hooks hanging on the walls.

  Little footsteps encircled him as narrow chests breathed heavily in anticipation before they approached. He stood tall and straightened his tie and smoothed out his suit jacket for the last time.

  The first of the blows caught him across the knee and the spanner’s clang rang out as it hit bone.

  He buckled painfully under the small swinging arm. Something sharp raked across his face and blood fell into his eyes.

  He held up a hand in protest and screamed as a pair of metal clippers took two fingers off his hand.

  Suddenly, the strikes rained in from every angle as tiny fists held their heavy weapons.

  Meagre muscles swung with more power than they should have been able to muster until the sound of wet slapping filled the air and the Headmaster was no more.

  ----------

  Stuart drifted in and out of consciousness. At some point he had managed to slip out of his coat and take his shirt off.

  He had wrapped the flimsy material tightly around the wound in his neck in an attempt to stem the flow.

  He probed his fingers gently into the torn flesh and found a gash that felt huge to his panicking mind. The blow to the back of his head had left a large lump and he was sure that it was causing his imbalance.

  He tried to slow his breathing as he knew that increasing his heart rate would only lead to a faster loss of blood.

  He tried to stand but his legs felt weak and he gave it up as a lost cause. He slid back down to the floor again and felt his body start to shiver in the cold without his shirt.

  Normally in such a situation as this he would have been praying that Hannah found him, but the school nurse was slumped opposite him with the back of her head impaled on her own axe.

  He would have laughed at the irony, if he wasn’t in danger of passing out again completely.

  ----------

  Brendon stared at the sergeant. “But we have to try surely?” he snapped angrily.

  “All we have is some garbled message,” Donald shrugged. “We don’t even know if it was his voice that we even heard, let alone what he was trying to say.”

  “I thought it was him,” Paterson offered meekly.

  “Shut up,” Donald barked.

  “We have to at least try and get over there - it’s a school for heaven’s sake,” Brendan implored.

  “I’ll go,” Paterson interjected again.

  “Shut up,” Brendon snapped.

  “Look, I’ve got responsibilities that stretch beyond the borders of Ravenhill Academy, I don’t care how expensive their fees are,” Donald said sarcastically.

  “Something is wrong over there,” Brendon stressed. “Can’t you feel it, Sergeant? Take a whiff out of the window, there is something very wrong going on at that school. I can feel it and I think that so can you. Hell’s bells, even Paterson must be getting something by now.”

  “What the hell do you want me to do, Father? You want me to go abseiling through the windows like bloody Dirty Harry?” Donald said angrily.

  “I want you to do your duty, Sergeant. There are kids over there and they are in trouble.”

  “I’ve got enough on my plate here. In case you’ve forgotten we’ve got two dead women, both of whom by the way tried to kill you whilst spouting some kind of Aztec language apparently. My duty is to Bexley Cross and not to some up-its-own-arse school and Headmaster. I should wait here for the cavalry to arrive,” Donald preened officiously.

  “You bloody coward,” Brendon said shaking his head. “There is a black hole out there and it’s settling right over Ravenhill whether you want to admit it or not. I can feel it,” Brendon stressed. “And I can feel that we’re running out of time; please, you have to help me before it’s too late.”

  “You want me to fly? Have you checked the weather out there lately?” Donald laughed nervously. “There is no way that any of us are going to be able to get there even if we wanted to.”

  “My truck would,” Brendon said confidently.

  “Look, there’s no way that some 4x4 is getting through this storm; hell, even ours wouldn’t stand a chance,” Donald said.

  “You haven’t seen The Beast,” Brendon smiled.

  ----------

  Sarah left the caretaker with a deep seated feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach.

  If the roads had been clear then she would have been in the back of a cab in a heartbeat.

  All she wanted to do was to put as much distance between her and Ravenhill as one human could possibly manage.

  She knew that if Maurice had told his tale about Ravenhill’s history to anyone else he would have been laughed at instead of listened to.

  It was her curse in life to have been through something so horrific and unbelievable that she was now destined to listen and take any tall tale seriously. She believed that it was possible that Ravenhill had a power; it was the reason why she wanted to get as far away from here as possible.

  She supposed that she should be secretly grateful that Mother Nature had prevented her from fleeing another responsibility and yet more guilt that she would have to lug around for the rest of her days.

  The emotional backpack that she carried was already heavy and stuffed full of Eden and her memories.

  She wasn’t looking forward to having to cram Ravenhill and the children that she would leave behind into it.

  She tried to convince herself that she would be of little use; she was a school teacher after all and not some gun wielding cop. Perhaps it was providence that had kept her from running away; perhaps she just might be of some use after all.

  Stuart had been going to check the generators and she suddenly felt a hankering for his company.

  It was wrong of her to use him as a crutch but she couldn’t help it; maybe she wasn’t really an island, just lonely.

  Despite the heavy snow she started to make for the generator hut instead of the main entrance. She was starting to believe in strength in numbers and Stuart was nothing if not a big sized lump.

  She walked with her hood up and pulled down low over her face.

  The howling wind was gaining in force and she had to remind herself that Ravenhill had stood for a long time; it was unlikely to be felled by the weather, however bad it might be.

  As she walked, she suddenly came across footprints leading out from the school towards the hut.

  Her confusion was that there were two sets.

  There was one set that were large and obviously heavy, whereas the others were much smaller. It could have mea
nt anything, but her mind couldn’t help but drift to dark places and she broke into a run.

  CHAPTER 17

  Maurice hid in his cottage. His courage had faltered and he was now hiding from the only place that he and his kin had ever known as home. Ravenhill no longer belonged to Barnaby and Maurice no longer belonged at Ravenhill.

  This was no longer his home and he was no longer welcome.

  Ravenhill had been sleeping for years now, so long in fact that he had begun to hope that she would never wake again.

  There was a power here that he could neither understand nor did he want to - it wasn’t his place.

  So many lives had been taken through the years and so many skeletons still lay undiscovered.

  The Barnabys had turned the place into a school and eventually a successful one. Parents from around the world now sent their precious cargo here to learn and grow and Maurice was starting to wonder if that had been Ravenhill’s plan all along.

  Her halls were now stocked with the finest and brightest prospects. They were children who would eventually leave this place and take their rightful places within the upper echelons of society; children who would become adults and leaders of great influence and power, and all grown within Ravenhill’s walls.

  He knew that the old girl had not been sleeping oblivious to the world around her, she had been watching and waiting; the only question was, for whom?

  ----------

  Sarah flung open the generator hut door. She was immediately greeted by the body of Hannah Marks, somehow propped up against the metal cabinet. The nurse’s face was twisted in shock as though the actuality of her fragile form had come as a surprise.

  She stepped into the room and walked towards the body, drawn by a morbid curiosity.

  She leaned out and could just see the handle of the axe buried in the console. The tool was obviously a two-headed beast with one side buried in the generator and the other buried in the back of Hannah’s skull.

  It was the axe rather than the sight of the dead body that affected her. The weapon would always hold a special place within the constructs of her Eden memories.

  She turned away and for the first time saw Stuart slumped on the ground by the door. Upon entering the hut her attention had been caught by the school nurse and not her friend.

  She rushed to his side and was horrified to see the mass of blood that had soaked through his battlefield bandaging attempt.

  “Stuart? Stuart?” she said, shaking him gently trying to wake him from a dangerous sleep. She took his wrist and found his pulse; it was steady if a little weak.

  His eyes fluttered open briefly and he looked up at her. “Is this what it takes to get you to at least hold my hand?” he smiled sleepily.

  She slapped him hard across the face and his eyes opened in shock. “What the hell!” he murmured.

  “You can’t sleep,” she said as she stroked the hair from his face gently. “You have to stay awake.”

  “You could have just said so,” he said sulkily.

  “What happened?”

  “I got the generators going and the next thing I knew the crazy cow came at me with a bloody great axe,” he said incredulously. “I managed to get hold of her but she was strong, so strong,” he whistled. “She shoved me back into the door and I smacked my head pretty hard.”

  “What happened to your neck?”

  “She took a bite out of it, if you can believe that. I had hold of her arms and she bit me like some kind of sodding vampire.”

  “We’ve got to get you up,” she said taking hold of his arms. “Your body is turning blue and it’s not a good colour on you,” she smiled softly. “That lump on the back of your head is worrying me and I don’t want you passing out again.”

  “What about my throat? I mean, she tore it open; I’m probably going to bleed to death.”

  “Don’t be such a baby,” she chided. “It’s barely a flesh wound.”

  “It doesn’t feel like a flesh wound,” he sulked.

  “A couple of stitches at most, you big girl; now get up and let’s get inside where it’s warm, or at least warmer,” she joked.

  ----------

  Brendon threw back the doors to the garage and ducked inside to get out of the heavily falling snow. He glanced back at the two policemen as their faces stared in disbelief at the vehicle standing before them.

  “The Beast” was a monstrous site to behold. Its body was a Toyota Hilux. It had an 18” lift with purpose built high arc suspension system. It had 44” Ground Hawg tires and enough illumination to give Vegas a run for its money.

  It was powered by a powerful 2.4L diesel engine via a 5 speed manual transmission. The axles had been adapted to cope with the large wheels by having 5 to 1 reduction differentials fitted. All in all it was a monster that had yet to see defeat in the eyes of Mother Nature.

  Brendon had been left “The Beast” by an elderly parishioner who had built the vehicle by hand and with love.

  Dennis had died alone and childless with only Brendon for company. They had spent countless afternoons jawing around his garage whilst he tinkered and Brendon watched, playing tea boy.

  He had been astounded to find that Dennis had left him the vehicle in his will and despite the obvious impracticalities, he had been compelled to keep it.

  “What in the bloody blue blazes is that?” Donald asked in shock and awe.

  “That, my friend, is our ticket to getting to Ravenhill and finding out what the hell is going on over there,” Brendon replied proudly.

  “Cool,” Paterson nodded. “Can I drive?”

  The other two withered him with a look that answered the question abruptly and definitively.

  ----------

  Sarah and Stuart made their way back slowly to the main entrance. His arm was across her shoulders and his weight pressed down upon her.

  They staggered and stumbled around the grounds through the snow that slowed them at every turn.

  The weather seemed to have intensified if anything and she walked with a slanting posture into the wind. Just as she reached the snow covered concrete steps she felt eyes upon her. She looked up into the face of Ravenhill and saw that a dozen sets of eyes were pressed up against the glass staring blankly at her.

  The children stood side by side, two at a time in the large windows at the front of the building. Their expressions were blank and vacant and there was no sign of their usual warmth towards her.

  She stepped backwards away from the school as the sentries stood guard against unwanted intruders. The front door opened and Joshua stood in the doorway.

  His hands were behind his back and his slender frame was seemingly impervious towards the cold storm that raged outside.

  “Why, Ms Mears, my dear,” the 13 year announced grandly in a voice that belied his tender years. “Won’t you come in, you’ll catch your death of cold out there,” he smiled keenly.

  He was a teenage boy, short of stature and build and yet he seemed to fill the eight foot high doorway.

  His presence dominated the huge building and radiated outwards towards her.

  She felt strangely afraid of him and yet her feet had begun to move forwards of their own accord. She wanted to run and she wanted to go to him at the same time.

  “We’re waiting, Ms Mears,” he called in a lullaby. “We’re all waiting. I’m waiting, and it has been such a long time after all SJ, or is it just Sarah these days?” he asked knowingly.

  ----------

  Brendon drove “The Beast” slowly as it ploughed its way through the snow.

  The huge wheels were driven hard through the white powder by the powerful engine that roared and spat its defiance. The wind howled mercilessly and whipped hard against the vehicle but it would not be denied.

  Brendon gripped the steering wheel hard with whitening knuckles as the ice that lay beneath the surface sought to derail them. Days of hard packed snow had compacted into a treacherous and hidden surface.

  Ravenhill A
cademy was only a few miles from Bexley Cross but it may as well have been a million to any other vehicle. Even now, Brendon knew that the two policemen were starting to have second thoughts about the mission, but he wasn’t.

  He could feel the pull from the place, a weak cry through the storm that something was desperately wrong there. It was a building full of innocent children and he was a man of God and he had his calling.

  The truck slipped again and they started to slide sideways towards the ditch.

  He pumped the brakes and steered into the skid. For a moment, he thought that it was all over barely before it had begun, that he was a foolish man stuffed full of stupid pride and he was about to fall.

  He saw the panic out of the corner of his eye as Donald and Paterson gripped each other to brace themselves.

  At the last possible second he felt the truck shift. It was a massive piece of machinery that should have been damn near impossible to move the way it did, but he felt it right itself just the same.

  The four wheels bit hard into the ice beneath the snow and they were steady again. Brendon took it as a sign that there was more than the three of them in the truck.

  “We’re never going to make it,” Donald said worriedly.

  “We have to,” Brendon snapped. “The closer we get, the more I can feel that we have to keep going.”

  “Divine messages?” Donald snorted.

  “Something like that, yes,” Brendon replied firmly.

  “And what about you, Paterson?” Donald barked at the young PC.

  “I dunno,” he shrugged uselessly.

  “Brilliant, thanks for the input,” Donald snapped sarcastically.

  “Let’s try through the fields,” Paterson suggested. “It’s just snow and frozen mud underneath, it’s gotta be safer than the road at least.”

  Brendon looked over at the young man. “A fine idea,” he smiled and swung the wheel hard to the right.

  “But there isn’t a gate,” Donald said, looking at the hedgerow.

  “We’ll make one,” Brendon grimaced as he floored the accelerator.