Benjamin Forrest and the School at the End of the World

by Chris Ward

‘It could be worse,’ Wilhelm said. ‘Godfrey could still be with us.’

  ‘We have an hour before full dark,’ Benjamin said. ‘Let’s not waste that time bickering, shall we?’

  At Miranda’s suggestion, they walked inland, up a rise away from the cliff edge until they could see the lay of the land. From the hill’s crest the land dipped and rose in a series of forested valleys and bald hilltops before reaching the edge of the river estuary a couple of miles farther south. The wave had taken them further north than they had expected, but they were still out of sight of the school. A coastal path followed the clifftop, but after dark, the many steep descents into river valleys and secretive coves would be treacherous.

  ‘Look, over there,’ Miranda said. ‘What’s that dome shape poking out of the trees?’

  Deep green and barely taller than the trees around it, the dome looked made of glass and steel.

  ‘Looks like an old observatory,’ Wilhelm said.

  ‘That’s our sleeping place,’ Benjamin said. ‘Let’s get moving.’

  The dome was three valleys away. Down in the forest, the gloom had already set in, hampering progress, and by the time they emerged on the last ridge before the dome’s valley, they could barely see anything at all through the trees.

  Just down from the ridge, an overgrown trail led into the woods. Wilhelm suggested they gather some dry wood on the way and make a fire when they arrived, so they collected bundles of twigs and a few bigger logs and carried them under their arms.

  The dome was farther than it appeared from the ridge where they had first seen it, and Benjamin was beginning to think they had taken a wrong path, when they emerged into a clearing to find a tall building standing in front of them.

  ‘It’s an old glasshouse,’ Wilhelm said. ‘It looks like it’s been abandoned.’

  At a couple of storeys high, the glasshouse had probably once been magnificent, but creeping plants had turned its glass walls green, while its steel frame had rusted, and in some places, broken away.

  ‘Do you think this place has anything to do with the school?’ Wilhelm said as they went through an opening where double doors had once stood. ‘It’s been abandoned for years by the look of it, but I can’t believe it just appeared here. Someone must have built it.’

  Miranda pulled creepers away from a sign beside the door. ‘Endinfinium High Horticultural Society: Biosphere One. I guess that’s your answer. Looks like the school used to have a gardening club.’

  Wilhelm laid a hand on her shoulder as she made to step inside. ‘And the second question, possibly the more important one, is why was it abandoned?’

  Benjamin pressed a hand to the glass. ‘It’s stone cold,’ he said. ‘Could that be it? Everything else I’ve seen has reanimated, but this looks just, you know, normal. Perhaps that’s why. They wanted it to reanimate and it wouldn’t, so they went somewhere else?’

  ‘In any case,’ Miranda said, ‘I’d feel safer inside than out. Who knows what lives in these forests?’

  Benjamin shivered at the thought of the wraith-hounds finding them sleeping. ‘Come on, let’s take our chances,’ he said.

  The others followed him inside. In the gloom, it was nearly impossible to see anything, but once-ordered rows of raised flowerbeds now burgeoned with oversized plants, many of which had overturned their pots and grown new sets of roots in the thick humus on the floor.

  Everywhere was damp and pungent, the air kept moist by the glass roof that, despite having been punctured in several places by overgrown trees, still maintained the glasshouse in a semi-tropical state.

  ‘Look,’ Wilhelm said. ‘Over there in the middle. Is that a cave?’

  A large, black shape about took up the centre of the main room. At first Benjamin thought it was a rockery feature, like he had seen in botanical gardens back home, perhaps once adorned by a variety of tropical climbing plants. When he reached up to touch it, however, he found it dry and rough, though cool like wood rather than cold like stone.

  ‘It’s a tree stump,’ he said. ‘Perhaps they found it in the forest and dragged it here.’

  Wilhelm walked around the outside. ‘It’s massive. The tree must been enormous. It’s all split at the top so it looks like it got destroyed by lightning.’

  ‘There’s a kind of hollow in the middle,’ Benjamin said. ‘It’s the best shelter we’ve found.’

  Miranda stared up at the tree. ‘I don’t know. This place creeps me out. Perhaps we should move on.’

  ‘And go where?’ Wilhelm said. ‘It’s getting dark.’

  Miranda reluctantly agreed.

  They climbed in through the loose stones and dirt until all three were nestled into the hollow beneath the stump. The concave shape naturally collected heat, so they were soon warm, even before Wilhelm suggested they build a fire.

  Holding up a handful of green things, he said, ‘I found these turnip-tops growing in a flowerbed around the back of the stump. The turnips themselves were all shriveled and dry, but we can eat the leaves.’

  ‘I hate turnips,’ Miranda said. ‘I used to eat a lot of them in my … old life.’

  ‘If we warm them by a fire, they might taste better,’ Wilhelm said.

  He cleared a space, then broke up twigs and arranged them into a conical shape. In the deepening gloom, Benjamin glanced at Miranda, and while he couldn’t see her face, he felt her body tense.

  ‘What’s the matter?’

  She gave a little shake of her head. ‘I can’t do it,’ she said. ‘I don’t know how. The magic … I can push and pull stuff, but making heat … turning something into fire … I haven’t got a clue. I might burn the whole forest down, or make the three of us combust.’

  Wilhelm gave a little chuckle. ‘Why such a lack of faith?’

  Miranda punched his leg. ‘If it’s so easy, why don’t you do it, then?’

  Wilhelm grinned, pulled something out of his pocket, and held it up. With a flick of his fingers, a little flame appeared.

  ‘Didn’t you learn anything during orienteering class?’ he said, waving the match back and forth in front of them. ‘Captain Roche’s first rule was never to go anywhere without carrying a source of fire.’

  ‘But all our stuff got lost when Godfrey blew up Lawrence!’

  Wilhelm shrugged. ‘I have trouser pockets.’

  His smug look made Benjamin smile. Even Miranda, despite her scowl and the extra punch she gave his leg, looked suitably impressed.

  ‘Just give me a minute,’ Wilhelm said, touching the flame to a bundle of dry grass. ‘Perhaps, if we can find some water, I can cook us some turnip leaf soup.’

  ‘Oh joy to end all joys,’ Miranda said, but the keenness in her eyes told Benjamin she wouldn’t turn down a bowl if offered.

  As the twigs began to catch fire, the warmth started sinking into Benjamin’s bones. He gave a contented sigh and leaned back against the dry stump, just as it shifted with a hideous shriek, and thick, bony branches bent over their heads, trapping them like animals in a cage.

  ‘Oh, alchemy!’ boomed a thunderous voice, and a gust of freezing wind blew out the fire.

  ‘My arm’s stuck!’ Wilhelm shouted.

  ‘Stop moving around,’ Miranda said, pushing him as he tried to back into her.

  ‘I can’t get my arm out!’

  Benjamin turned back to the wooden stump and put his hands out. It was warm. The stump had reanimated right in front of them and, under his palms, he could feel it pulsing like a living thing.

  ‘It’s alive,’ he said. ‘Stop struggling or it might crush us.’

  ‘I can’t see anything!’

  ‘Intruders, are you?’ came the booming voice again, which reminded Benjamin of Lawrence’s foghorn voice, though more organic, like wind being pulled through an entire orchestra of woodwind instruments and slowly molded into a coherent sound.

  Miranda grabbed Benjamin’s arm. ‘It’s a talking tree,’ she hissed.

  ‘I’m no such thing!’ boomed the
voice again.

  ‘Then what are you?’ Miranda shouted back.

  The branches trapping them suddenly pulled up. Wilhelm screamed and dashed off into gloom, but Benjamin took hold of Miranda’s arm, and together, they turned back toward the stump.

  Two football-sized eyes watched them out of the crusty, ancient wood. Both were a deep, forest green with black pupils and their glow was bright enough for Benjamin to make out Miranda’s face as the girl stared openmouthed.

  ‘And who are you?’ the voice boomed. ‘Aside from being intruders who come into Fallenwood to light your fires? Don’t you understand the meaning of respect?’

  Branches snaked out and encircled their ankles and wrists, holding them tight. From the gloom behind came an unusual crackling sound, like a basket full of hundreds of twigs being slowly upended.

  ‘I’m Miranda Butterworth,’ Miranda said. ‘My friends are Wilhelm Jacobs and Benjamin—’

  ‘Help me!’

  Wilhelm’s scream had cut her off, and the rumble of a large object rolling along the floor made them turn around. In the gloom, it was difficult to see what was going on, but Wilhelm appeared caught in the middle of a huge ball of twigs, his arms and legs held outstretched.

  ‘You bring your fire here, little man,’ boomed the voice. ‘Let me show you the nature of fire.’

  High above, glass and metal shrieked and shifted, and then the gloom became light as the roof shook free from years of accumulated grime and dirt. Mirrors and windows shifted, reflecting and refracting the light until a dull red glow filled every space.

  The brightest dot was centred on Wilhelm’s chest, and a thin wisp of smoke began to rise from the third button of his school uniform’s jacket.

  ‘Let him go!’ Miranda screamed. She jerked one hand free, clenched a fist and, with a crackle of breaking wood, all of the twigs shifted and collapsed to the ground in a heap. From somewhere underneath came Wilhelm’s muffled cry for help.

  ‘Channeler,’ murmured the stump. ‘How interesting.’

  The heap of twigs shifted, and then up from the huge tinder pile rose humanoid shapes—strange, wooden creatures, some with multiple arms and legs. Wilhelm, cowering on the ground, was lifted up and held with his hands at his sides.

  ‘Look, we’re sorry,’ Benjamin said, turning to the stump. ‘We didn’t know anyone lived here. We’re just trying to escape from the Dark Man and his army, which, by the way, is marching toward Endinfinium High as we speak, intent on wiping it off the face of the, um … wherever the hell we are.’

  The stump shifted back and forth as if nodding. ‘Finally, a few manners. What you say is of disputed interest. Your name is?’

  ‘Benjamin Forrest, sir.’

  ‘Forrest!’

  A wave of ahhs came from the assembled twig creatures, and the two nearest to him rustled with excitement, Wilhelm was forced to dance a little jig.

  ‘With a name like that, one must share a love for trees,’ the stump said.

  ‘There was a wood at the end of my street,’ Benjamin said. ‘I used to go down there with my little brother, David, and we used to climb the trees and fish in the river, and ride our bikes on the dirt track someone had made. I’m sorry we tried to start a fire. We were just cold, that’s all.’

  The stump gave a sound that could only have been a chuckle. ‘Well, no harm done. At least not much. We’re all friends here. Welcome, Forrest, Firestarter, and Firehair. Welcome to the Kingdom of Fallenwood. I imagine you’re hungry? Let me see what my Fallenwoodsmen can find for you.’

  37

  VIEWING PLATFORM

  Much to Benjamin’s surprise, the huge talking stump was able to move, if slowly, shuffling from side to side like a lame hippopotamus, and as they walked, he introduced himself as Fallenwood, Lord of all of Fallenwood.

  ‘Don’t you have another name?’ Benjamin asked.

  ‘We have no need of names,’ Fallenwood said. ‘I have assumed something for you to call me. We have no names for each other, because we are all one and the same.’

  ‘Like ants?’ Wilhelm said.

  Fallenwood shook from side to side. ‘Another scourge,’ he muttered, then said under his breath, but just loud enough for them to hear, ‘All truces have failed….’

  ‘Were there once people from the school here?’ Miranda asked.

  ‘Yes, yes. People from the school built this crumbling place. We are not best fans of humans and the rest, but the rain can be so terribly cruel.’

  All around followed bundles of twigs and branches, continuously connecting and intertwining to form wheels and rollers and globes, like a magically animated wicker basket factory.

  ‘Can they speak? Do they have minds?’ Benjamin asked Fallenwood.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ the great stump said. ‘Just no way to communicate by themselves. If enough of them get together, anything can happen. One by one, however, they’re simple creatures. They have no need for conversation or philosophy or the understanding of existentialism. They’re content with idle play.’

  Fallenwood led them through another door and into a wider auditorium room where Benjamin exchanged surprised glances with Wilhelm and Miranda at the lights glowing in fittings on the wall and in strips along the ceiling. The floor was piled with woodchips and other dry plant matter that had long ago run out of moisture, and the Fallenwoodsmen tumbled and danced among it like organic fairies. For Benjamin, watching them was as close as he had come to watching television since his arrival, as they played out dances and mimicry and dramas like a constantly evolving theatre troupe.

  ‘Where did you get the lights?’ Wilhelm asked.

  ‘Something the humans left behind,’ Fallenwood said. ‘On the roof. Things that collect sun.’

  ‘Solar panels,’ Benjamin said. ‘Wouldn’t they have fallen into disrepair by now?’

  ‘Oh, they did,’ Fallenwood said. ‘And then they fixed themselves.’

  ‘It doesn’t bother you?’ Wilhelm asked. ‘The lights?’

  Fallenwood chuckled. ‘Oh, forget the eyes,’ he said. ‘They’re for your benefit. They see nothing, and the Fallenwoodsmen see nothing, either.’

  ‘Then how do you—’

  ‘We feel you. The air, as it swirls around, paints a picture of you that I can see as clearly as I could with any eyes.’

  Wilhelm lifted a hand in front of Fallenwood’s huge, blinking—and now revealed to be fake—eyes. ‘How many fingers am I holding up?’

  ‘How many do you have?’

  ‘Ten.’

  ‘Then somewhere between that and zero. Am I right?’

  ‘I guess.’

  ‘You are hungry?’ Fallenwood said, apparently tiring of the subject. ‘Please, sit and eat.’

  A maelstrom of Fallenwoodsmen intertwined to form three woven chairs and a trellis table, upon which bowls of green leaves and coloured fruit were placed.

  ‘Gifts from the forest,’ Fallenwood said. ‘Our finest cuisine.’

  The food looked and tasted almost exactly like the school’s food, but all three were starving and ate like it was the last meal on Earth. Fallenwood stood motionless beside them, so still that Benjamin often forgot the stump was there.

  After dinner was over, Fallenwood suggested they get some rest. None had the strength to argue, so the Fallenwoodsmen again interwove, this time into three comfortable beds. Covered by a layer of soft moss and leaves, Benjamin was asleep almost before his head had touched the bundle of dried grass provided as a pillow.

  When he woke, the room was filled with the grey light of a reluctant dawn. His body ached all over, but his mind felt more rested than it had in weeks. Miranda and Wilhelm still slept peacefully in their beds, but Fallenwood stood behind them like a sentry and, upon seeing Benjamin was up, asked if he would take a morning stroll.

  They didn’t go far. From what Benjamin could gather, the entire Fallenwood kingdom extended only up to the boundaries of the old botanical society building, and even a couple of rooms inside we
re off limits due to the collapsed roof.

  ‘You are new to Endinfinium, one gathers,’ Fallenwood said as Benjamin walked alongside the huge, lumbering stump. ‘Your outlook is not so jaded as one might expect of a long-term resident.’

  ‘At times,’ Benjamin said, ‘I feel like I’m drowning in the mysteries of this place. I’ve given up trying to understand.’

  ‘In time, answers will reveal themselves,’ Fallenwood said.

  ‘Do you know? Do you know what Endinfinium is, and why we’re here?’

  ‘I only know what I have discovered with my own senses, that it is a place in which the concept of death that many of you outsiders understand is no longer relevant. There are different rules here.’

  ‘But why? How can plastic bags fly, and motorbikes walk like men, and twigs dance?’

  ‘How can something that is eighty percent water care to wonder about such things?’ Fallenwood said. ‘Your understanding of sentience is archaic. Surely if you can have powers of thought and reason and emotion, is it not possible that other objects can?’

  ‘But plastic bags and other rubbish … they aren’t alive. We made them.’

  ‘And who made you? Complexity is overrated.’

  Benjamin shrugged. ‘Nothing makes any sense.’

  ‘Not where you’re from, no. But remember, the rules here are different.’

  Aware he was starting to sound like a petulant child though unable to stop himself, Benjamin said, ‘But why? And if this is a place with different rules, then why am I here? Why any people at all?’

  Fallenwood appeared to let out a long sigh. ‘Because you all have something in common.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’m not sure. But if you continue to ask questions of your surroundings, eventually you’ll figure it out. Don’t give up, Forrest.’

  Benjamin felt like giving up, yet he forced himself to think about David. ‘We have to leave today,’ he said. ‘A great army is approaching the school. I think the Dark Man is using Grand Lord Bastien and my brother, David, to power his machines.’

  ‘Even here in Fallenwood, we have heard of the Dark Man … and his power. It would be useful if he were stopped.’