by Chris Ward
‘I’ll take you back to admissions,’ the captain said, standing up. ‘Once you’ve filled out your forms, Mrs. Martin will show you to your room. You’re probably looking forward to meeting your roommate.’
‘Roommate?’
A comb-sized eyebrow rose over the captain’s non-squinting eye. ‘Oh, didn’t you know? Scatty Miss Butterworth was supposed to tell you. There was only one spot left in the first years’ dorms, I’m afraid, so we didn’t have much choice. I imagine in time you’ll get used to rooming with him.’ Then, with a muttered aside that probably wasn’t supposed to be overheard, the captain added, ‘The little brat.’
9
WILHELM
Mrs. Martin seemed no more excited to see Benjamin than she had before.
‘I’m afraid the headmaster is away on business at the moment,’ she said as she emerged from the office with a big metal key in her hand and a bag over her shoulder. ‘Have I already mentioned that? He should be back in a day or two, so at that time you’ll be taken to his office for a short orientation meeting.’
Her voice held a hint of frustration, as though the headmaster should have already returned. ‘Will I find out why I’m here?’ Benjamin asked.
Mrs. Martin arched her eyebrows. ‘In a sense, as best as any of us know,’ she said, as if the answer should be obvious. ‘And I’m sure a few far more important things.’
‘Why are you here?’ Benjamin blurted before he could stop himself. ‘Yesterday—at least, I think it was yesterday—you were sitting at a desk in the office of my school in Basingstoke, and now you’re sitting at a desk here, in this school at the supposed end of the world. There are two suns in the sky, everything dead seems to be coming to life, and some of the people aren’t really human. Why aren’t you still in Basingstoke, too?’
‘You’ve had a long journey,’ she said, turning her eyes down. ‘The adrenaline has set your mouth to motoring. A good night’s sleep will sort that out.’ She shrugged. ‘If Wilhelm lets you sleep,’ she muttered, voice trembling. ‘Heavens, couldn’t they have picked someone else?’
‘I’m sorry,’ he muttered, looking at his feet.
Mrs. Martin sighed. ‘We all have our stories. Soon you’ll have yours, and you’ll have to deal with it the way we all do, in any way you can.’
‘I’m just … it’s all so confusing.’
Mrs. Martin smiled. ‘Look, give me a question. If I can answer it, I will. Only one, though. Most of them you’ll need to figure out for yourself. The answers aren’t all the same for each of us.’
Benjamin thought for a while. Which single question would give him the most insight into this place? Already, he was back to thinking this was all a bizarre dream, even though his mouth still tasted of cauliflower dunked in custard. But just in case it wasn’t, he needed some way to get inside his guide’s brain to pick out the best clue that this place was, indeed, real.
In the end, the question picked itself. ‘Why … is Captain Roche so wide?’
Mrs. Martin laughed, a hollow clucking sound like a chicken getting strangled. ‘Isn’t it obvious? I assume you didn’t play truant from every science class back in Basingstoke?’
‘Not all of them.’
‘Diversity. Do you look exactly like me? It wouldn’t be much fun if we were all … um … the same. You’ll just find that Endinfinium has a wider range to choose from than you’re probably used to. Anyway,’—she gave a little shake of her head—‘enough of that.’
‘But—’
‘I said one question.’ She wagged a finger at him. ‘You can grill the headmaster when you see him. First of all, I have to talk you through negotiating the walkway to the dormitories without alarm.’
Benjamin gulped. ‘There’s not another rope bridge, is there?’
‘Oh no, nothing like that horrible old thing. One of these days they’ll get around to replacing it.’
‘But…’
His voice trailed off. They had reached the end of a corridor, where a wide pair of glass doors opened out onto a jagged cliff. To their left, the cliff rose in spines and tight gullies; to their right, it dropped almost vertically toward a grey beach far below. A thin path barely as wide as a person led straight out, following the cliff’s arc until it reached a craggy, windswept headland.
A four-storey wooden building stood atop the headland, so close to the edge, its foundations were literally undermined and loose boards flapped back and forth in the breeze.
‘You’ve got to be joking….’
‘The dormitories. It’s the best place for them. If something happens to the school, then the pupils will be safe.’
‘You call crossing that precipice to get to class “safe”?’
‘Oh, you’ll get used to it. It’s not that far, is it?’
Benjamin looked down at the grey curve of beach, and gulped. He’d vomited on a school trip to Blackpool Tower, while the lift was still sitting on the ground. If he ever made it across to the dormitories, there was little chance he would be coming back.
‘You’ll get hungry,’ Mrs. Martin said, as if reading his thoughts. ‘A lot of pupils get scared, but they all get over it. You’ll be dancing across blindfolded before you know it. In fact, that used to be the rugby team’s initiation, until Captain Roche caught wind of it, and that was only because of poor … anyway. Let’s get moving.’
She had barely touched the door when a huge, fluttering cloud rushed up the cliffside, engulfing the path for a few seconds before banking toward them and disappearing over the top of the school. One solitary plastic bag—scatlock, he reminded himself—flapped against the glass doors like a giant moth, did a pirouette, then fluttered away.
‘That’s something else you should know,’ Mrs. Martin said. She tapped a hand against a wooden cupboard door beside the entrance. A click sounded, and it swung open. ‘Don’t forget your scatlock cape.’
Inside hung several brown cloaks. Mrs. Martin picked one out and dropped it over Benjamin’s head. He let out a startled cry, blinded until he realised the cape had a thin mesh on one side of the head portion for him to see out.
‘Step into the foot holes,’ Mrs. Martin said, tugging on the cloth until his battered shoes were inside. ‘Then you zip it at the back. Here.’ She pulled across a zip, and he was completely enclosed in the cloth bag.
‘What’s this for?’
‘It keeps the little blighters out. They’re mindless, but they have a certain intuition. They like to block things. Eyes, ears, nose, you name it. If they can, they’ll wrap around your face and suffocate you. This is a happy hunting ground for them because of the wind that rushes up the cliff face. All the kids who’ve fallen off have had some sort of trouble with scatlocks.’
‘Fallen off … why not just build a tunnel or something?’
‘The rock strata on this part of the cliff won’t handle excavation. And even if it could, don’t get me started on trying to organise such a thing.’
‘I guess I won’t.’
‘Right. Off you go.’
She pulled open the door and pushed him outside. As he started to turn, Mrs. Martin slammed the door shut, putting a solid wall of glass between them.
‘Sorry, got to keep out the draft,’ she said, voice muffled. ‘Room thirty-five. Third floor, near the back. The housemaster will show you. And tell Wilhelm to make sure he shows up for braiding class. Professor Eaves said if he doesn’t show up by the end of the week, he’ll braid him a new … well, just tell him.’
‘Sure.’
‘Hurry up, now. You hear that buzzing noise? Scatlocks.’
Benjamin tugged on the door handle, but Mrs. Martin held it shut from the inside, leaning back to put her considerable weight into play. The buzzing came closer; the scatlocks would be on him in seconds if he didn’t move. In the stupid cape he felt rigid and inflexible, aware that one strong gust could send him toppling down to the beach, but Mrs. Martin still held the door shut, face stern and unsympathetic.
B
enjamin took a deep breath and stepped forward. The drop fell away in front of him, interspersed with jagged, rocky outcrops that would beat him up a bit on his way down. Far below, the beach appeared to shimmer, as though high tide had come in a sudden rush. Then he realised. Not water. Scatlocks. Millions of the accursed things, preparing to catch the next up-gust and rip him off the cliffside.
He started moving, left hand out near the rock face but not touching, in case he accidentally pushed himself off. The other he held out in front of him like a guide. The buzzing from below loudened as a rushing grey cloud swarmed up the cliff. Back by the door, Mrs. Martin gestured in ever more frantic hand motions toward the far side.
‘Hurry! They’ll knock you off!’
Benjamin turned to look for the voice. The door to the dormitory had opened, and a cherubic face now peered out.
‘Do I sound like I’m joking?’
The boy was about twelve, but small for his age. Dark brown hair in tight curls created a sheepskin-like mop around his head. He wore green pajamas and a light blue dressing gown secured by a bright yellow belt.
‘I’ll fall!’
‘Not if you get moving, but you will if the scatlocks catch you. Quick!’
Miranda had saved him on the rope bridge, but no one could save him now except for himself. Benjamin stared down at the rising tide of suffocating death, gritted his teeth, and raced across the rest of the path. He barreled through the entrance, past the boy, who laughed and slammed the door shut moments before a grey cloud pattered against it.
‘Nice one!’
As Benjamin fell, the scatlock cape twisted, the back of its hood covering his face. He scrabbled at it, trying not to panic.
‘Relax, you’re safe. I’ve got it.’
A cool gust of air tickled his back as the boy unzipped the cape and helped him climb out. The boy then dusted down the cape and hung it up in a cupboard by the door.
‘Wilhelm,’ he said, sticking out a hand. ‘You’re Benjamin, right? My new roommate?’
Benjamin shook a wiry but strong hand. ‘That’s right.’
Wilhelm nodded. ‘Let me guess, the old bag gave you a message for me?’
‘Show up at braiding class.’
Wilhelm rolled his eyes. ‘Old Dusty Eaves won’t mind if I don’t. He hates me anyway.’
‘What’s braiding class?’
‘Where you learn to make those stupid rope bridges.’
‘What for?’
‘In case one of them falls down.’
‘I had to cross one to get here. Are there others?’
‘That’s the big one,’ Wilhelm said, nodding. ‘But yeah, there are a few about. Not so many near the school, though.’
‘Why can’t they build proper bridges?’
Wilhelm laughed. ‘Why can’t they do most things you would do in a normal place? A bunch of reasons. Come on, I’ll make you a cup of tea. Since we’re going to be roommates, we might as well get to know each other.’
‘You have tea?’
‘Of course. It’s the best. Not everything sucks in this horrible place.’
10
THE DORMITORIES
The little common room was on the bottom floor nearest to the cliff edge. ‘Just don’t sit by the windows,’ Wilhelm said. ‘If it collapses, you’ll drop straight over. Stay near the middle of the room and you’ll have a chance to run. They say it’s safe, but I’m not so sure.’
‘Thanks for the advice.’
A fire burned in a grate near the back wall. Wilhelm filled a metal kettle from a tap and placed it into the flames. They sat on wooden stools around it, warming their hands until the kettle began to whistle, when Wilhelm filled two wooden mugs with water then spooned in some powder out of a bowl.
‘It’s chamomile,’ he said. ‘The stuff grows wild just back from the headland, but I’ve heard there are farms of it farther inland. They put it in all the food because it’s pretty much the only flavouring they’ve got.’
‘Mrs. Martin sprayed the vanishing cannons with something that smelt like it. She said it would relax them.’
‘Yeah, it’s pretty good for doing that.’
‘Whatever that means.’
Wilhelm shrugged. ‘You’ll figure it out. As much as anyone knows, at any rate.’
The tea tasted pretty good, and Benjamin was reminded of evenings at his grandmother’s house. How he would kill for one of her homemade chocolate biscuits now, the ones with the oversized lumps of Dairy Milk in them because she said regular cooking chocolate was too bland…. He pushed the thought from his mind and turned to Wilhelm.
‘Do you have any idea what’s going on? I’ve found it impossible to get a straight answer out of anyone. Every time I ask anything, I get brushed off. Where on earth are we?’
‘Or aren’t, is the better question. I know some, I guess. But not much. I’ve only been here for a couple of months, and I’ve spent most of that time causing trouble.’
‘Am I dreaming?’
Wilhelm shrugged again. ‘I don’t think so. If you are, it’s a really long dream.’
‘Why do I keep seeing all these weird things like tractors that can talk and hordes of flapping plastic bags—’
‘Scatlocks.’
‘Why are they called scatlocks? That’s such a ridiculous name.’
Wilhelm laughed. ‘No one seems to know why. At least, they won’t say if they do. I’ve asked a bunch of people.’
‘They’re flying supermarket bags. And why are they flying? Nothing … makes … sense.’
‘There’s a fundamental rule to this place,’ Wilhelm said. ‘Better if I demonstrate.’
He slid open a window, balanced his cup outside on the ledge, then pulled the window closed again. For a couple of minutes he sat in silence, watching it, then pulled open the window and brought the cup back in.
‘Dip your finger in the tea.’
‘It’s cold!’
‘Of course it is. Now feel the cup.’
Benjamin took it from Wilhelm, nearly dropping it in surprise. ‘It’s warm!’
‘Yup. That’s because the wood itself is alive. Feel anything made out of wood. It’s the same.’
‘How? I mean, I’ve seen all these things, but … I don’t get it.’
‘Endinfinium is this place where stuff people made comes back to life. Don’t ask me why, or how. If the professors know, they’re not telling. It happens to everything. It starts to get warm, then it starts to move about. Some things just shake a lot, others eventually grow personalities. They’re called “reanimates.” How reanimated they can get depends on how complicated they were to start with, and whether or not they get fused with anything else. Some, like the old gatekeeper, have memories and intelligence, and they choose whether or not to be nice to you. Others, like the scatlocks, are mindless, instinct-based.’
‘But that’s crazy. It can’t happen to everything! What about the buildings?’
‘If they get too reanimated, they start to shake and break up. Wood is pretty sedate, that’s why you see a lot of it. Rock is inanimate, of course, but all the metal and plastic … anything humans have played around with at some point, it gets a bit jumpy after a while. They have periodic re-spraying parties. There was one just after I arrived. No one knows what happens if it goes untreated for too long. I don’t think they want to find out.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because they don’t want to know.’
Benjamin sat brooding over this for a few moments. From what he’d seen it made sense, but the why of everything would have to wait until he met the headmaster.
‘How many kids are there?’
Wilhelm shrugged. ‘About eighty. Fifteen or so in each year. The older kids are pretty gung-ho about everything, as though they’ve forgotten all about where they came from. Don’t expect any allies, if they talk to you at all. My guess is that the dissenters get weeded out. I’ve been here for two months, and after the first week, I refused to attend a
ny classes. I’m hoping dissenters get sent back, but if they don’t, I’ll take the alternative.’
‘Which is?’
Wilhelm whistled and made a falling motion with his hand. ‘If I had to guess, it would be over the edge, with the rubbish.’
Benjamin stared out the window. Clouds had rolled in, but from their viewpoint, he could clearly see where the roiling ocean just stopped and gave way to sky. It wasn’t that far; swimmable on a fine day.
‘What if that is the way back?’ he said, pointing. ‘What if that’s the only way?’
‘It’s crossed my mind. I’ll wait them out a bit longer before I try it, though. Come on,’—Wilhelm stood up—‘I’ll show you our room. You made any friends yet? Other than me, of course.’
Benjamin shrugged. ‘A girl called Miranda met me on the beach.’
Wilhelm nodded. ‘Red hair? Blue eyes? About this tall? Aggressive? Yeah, I know her. She’s the prefect of the first year because the previous kid disappeared one day and no one else wanted to do it. Or so I heard. She’s you’re friend, is she?’
‘I’m not sure, to be honest,’ Benjamin said. ‘Captain Roche sent her to the Locker Room for disobedience.’
‘He likes to do that. I have a couple of thousand cleans outstanding on my account. I’m pretty sure he’d drag me down there himself, but he’s too wide to get across the path.’
Benjamin sniggered. He could imagine the captain leaning half out over the edge, one eye squinting down as a flock of scatlocks raced up toward him.
‘And I’ve made an enemy,’ he said. ‘Godfrey.’
‘Ah, don’t worry about him, he’s a chump. He’s a year ahead of us. Has a massive chip on his shoulder.’
‘And now he has one of Captain Roche’s eyes.’
Wilhelm laughed. ‘Ouch. I’ve heard about that. Apparently if the captain closes his other eye, he can see out of the one he sticks to people, like a camera. It tends to keep the bad kids in line, and gives him plenty of excuses to send them to the Locker Room.’