by J W Cotter
Chapter 6IX:
Broken Fingers and Roast Chicken
With his barriers firmly in place James sat on the bus that he had been wishing and yearning for since Sunday evening, a valid reason to get away from the house for a number of hours. Monday morning had arrived and brought with it school and the leaving behind of the arrival of Dad and Miriam who had returned home from their weekend away late, really late. James hadn’t minded as he had more things to worry about. Seeing as his father and the woman were away until Sunday night James had most of the weekend to try and figure out exactly what happened in the bank. After the woman with the floral scarf called off the brute James could only barely remember what happened next. Taking his mobile phone and attempting to call for the emergency services was the first thing he remembered however before he could even dial the number a man stood stooped before him. The lobby was where he had noticed him before, dressed in a black suit with a bowler hat and briefcase to finish. He had a beard like a raincloud and his face was wrinkled, but the eyes, there was something about the eyes. Unfortunately that was where his memory of the bank ceased, before he knew it he was on the bus home utterly confused, frightened and still rather sore.
Sitting on the bus as he travelled back in to the city for school he glanced around to spy numerous other students laughing and joking with each other. A twinge of jealousy erupted in his body about the weekends they probably had. Spending time with their loving families, trips to town with their good friends even a movie to relax with some food and treats. James had none of the above. The only friends he had, well they never wanted to meet outside of school, preferring to remain within the confines of their home to either watch television or play videogames and on rare occasions when the eyes started to blur, read. And as far as family went, well James was pretty sure he was the only family he had right now. The option to relax and watch a movie was there but the food was not and unfortunately he had no money to purchase any. It was then, after the entire weekend, did he recall the piece of paper with the large number on it. As quickly as that memory came so did the horrendous sound of the muscular man, his voice mockingly teasing whether James would see twenty-one? Shaking his head in a bid to rid the voice he turned up the music on his MP3 player and looked out the window.
The bus was just travelling past the road he walked down, the one which led to the few houses and a gate to the forest. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The car, the expensive one belonging to the lady with the floral scarf, was driving down towards them. Saturday day and night was spent walking around the outside of the woman’s house and on occasion ringing and knocking on the door and peeping in windows. Sunday day was the same and he only abandoned his stalking when his father arrived home, the fear of his father wasn’t there, it was more that he didn’t want the annoyance of having to deal with him as Miriam glared on. His questions had questions over the weekend and each one seemed to have multiplied by the hour since last night. He stood to his feet and banged on the window of the bus and as it continued to slowly drive passed, he shouted for it to stop. The driver wasn’t in the mood for taking orders from young teenagers and the look James received was enough for him to sit back down on the ripped fabric seat and recoil. For a brief moment he had forgotten where he was, where he was going and more importantly who were around him. Students, many from his school had just witnessed his inexplicable momentary outburst and as sure as the moon was going to appear tonight the story would be rampant in the corridors before he even stepped foot off the bus. Blood rushed his cheeks like rising flood waters and he found it hard to breathe as if the joy of an anxiety attack was mere seconds away. Luckily it wasn’t and James sat silently on the bus turning his attention away from the students who were undoubtedly still staring and talking about him. Many more questions sprawled across his mind as he wondered about the woman.
Sadly those questions were going to remain such for the foreseeable future as the bus came to a screeching halt near his school. Thanks now to the invention of social media and instant messaging he was almost certain that his outburst was now common knowledge, he was just afraid if anyone had the promptness to hit record on their phone. His hood up, blonde fringe covering most of his eyes (the white streak easily hidden) and music blaring in to his ears he took a deep breath and braced himself. Sure enough he had barely reached the steps of the school when he noticed a group of boys, younger than him, teasingly banging on the school window shouting “Stop” Stop”. The best course of action was to ignore, and that was exactly what he did. They just laughed, harder and pointed. There was no sense in laughing if they didn’t emphasise who the laughter was directed at. Inside the school James continued quickly to his first class, wanting to avoid as many people as possible. One teacher on the other hand wasn’t quite happy with James as he rushed passed her, so much in fact she grabbed his hood and yanked it backwards pulling fiercely at the warrior’s neck. When she had him in front of her she yanked out the headphones that had been so easily blocking out the nasty words and sometimes thoughts that were so easily hurled and readily available. It was Ms. Taylor, the physical education teacher.
“James isn’t it?” A nod was all she received. James wasn’t exactly in the mood to chat to anyone other than the woman from the bank, or the woman who gave him the poison tea but with the former being a neighbour she was going to be easier to find, or so he thought! Nodding, as Ms. Taylor so eloquently informed James, wasn’t an appropriate response to an elder’s question. One could almost sense venom as she spoke to her students with such disdain. It was easy to see that she was unhappy in her work; after all she was an Olympian, well almost. Six months before she was due to take part in the London Games she tripped on a schoolbag that had been left unattended in the main social area and twisted her ankle. Her dreams of a medal were tarnished and her dreams now were to be every student’s nightmare. One poor girl last year, a bit on the heavy side was forced to eat all her classmate’s lunches and then run laps around the gym until she collapsed and vomited. The story made the rounds of the locality but nothing ever came of it, it wasn’t as if anyone would actually attempt to fire Ms. Taylor!
“How come you’re not in any of my gym classes?” she asked while ripping the headphones up through the jumper, freeing them from the MP3 player. He was slightly shocked, the move was so fast for a second he wasn’t sure what she was doing but the whip of the cord against his chin brought him back around and he watched as she stuffed the white cord into her pocket.
“I am” James finally answered her.
“You’re obviously not very good seeing as I don’t remember you”. Not her most vicious of insults but nevertheless it was still delivered with the usual venomous tongue and smirk. The one small saving grace that James had found in the current predicament was that they were practically alone, bar the odd student or teacher walking past. He couldn’t bear the thought of having another “incident” being talked about throughout the school.
“Go on get to class” she snarled as she retreated slightly from his personal space. James tried to get his headphones back but she just laughed an evil laugh.
“Come to the gym after school and if you do something that makes me remember you, I’ll give them back”. She took out her phone and plugged in the pristine white cord and played some music.
“The quality is great” Once again she laughed as she turned her back to James and headed towards the office area.
“Could show her something now that would have her remembering me until the day she dies!” James muttered quietly to himself. Alas he deemed it best not to attempt something warrior like, especially seeing as he wasn’t sure what exactly he could do. All he did know for certain was that he was stronger and faster with enhanced senses and of course the healing, the cherry if you will on top of the new abilities. Other than that he didn’t know. Well there was also the known fact that he was a walking target for large monstrous other-worldly creatur
es and giant-like brutes, although most of them he had already experienced in the form of the numerous school bullies.
With one of his barriers down James wasn’t exactly sure how to cope, he always liked not being able to hear what others were saying. Paranoia normally struck at some stage during his days in school but with music blaring in his ears the ability to drown it out helped, today how was he going to do that? An unwelcome voice, that of the Headmaster, suddenly boomed through the various speakers situated around the school. “Good morning students” he started. If one didn’t know any better they would think the voice was enhanced by some bass technology as it boomed over the airways but alas no, it was his voice. A whisper normally could be heard across the classroom and a roar across the town. The message was as abrupt as he was; assembly in the gym now! James frowned. There was nothing worse than being herded like sheep into the gym which doubled as the schools “theatre” for whenever they put on a production to raise funds for the football team or rugby team. With his head low and his mood lower he made his way for the gym following the other students as they moped along the corridors.
“Surprise, surprise they didn’t even open the seats!” a girl who obviously wasn’t in the mood to stand announced loudly. Electronically controlled seating folded against the back wall and was opened for the paying audience whenever a “Grease” or “West Side Story” was performed by the over-confident and under-talented popular students. It was almost full, students ranging from first year to last year and some who just seemed to be forever within the walls stood aimlessly in lines of bodies all conversing with each other over the undoubtedly mundane events of their weekends. Some younger students had taken to sitting on the ground, their little legs unable to bear the weight any longer. Not one for the limelight, or most types of lighting, James made his way for the back where he hoped the forty-foot high wall of seats would offer some shadows to lurk. He was already able to hear their words; he hoped that once out of sight he would be out of mind. Sadly no. Assembly rules stated that one must be with their peers, the ones in their year, their classes, their bullies. Attempting to stay away from the crowd was no good as the mean one-eyed janitor that most of the students referred to as Cyclops herded him away from the seats and into a line of students.
Snipes of “watch it weirdo” and “loser” were whispered at him as Cyclops knocked him straight in to two girls, well honestly bitches, from his class. Then someone from behind wrapped their arm around his neck and squeezed.
“Hey Jimmy!” the arm spoke. It was none other than Gavin, the shoe-stealing ogre that almost broke James’ nose.
“So Jimmy, like my runners?” James could feel the pressure of fat enclosing on his windpipe and although he tried to look at the runners and indeed reply he couldn’t. Air was beginning to become harder to come by and he could feel his face redden as the arm showed no sign of letting up.
“Sorry to hear about your Ma, she couldn’t stick you either huh?” he chuckled as did the other few who gathered to watch the latest James Griffin mortification scene. Sadly for them the comment turned to be the final straw for James, and with his newly acquired “abilities” he wasn’t going to give them a scene, he was going to give them a musical, their screams of agony the score. With anger flaring he took hold of Gavin’s fingers and easily pulled back, as if he were peeling plastic off some cheese. Four snaps echoed throughout the little circle and then the main performance, Gavin reached notes no soprano could possibly dream of. The entire student population and every staff member turned to the corner but luckily James had retreated out of sight and no one other than Gavin was making a sound. “My fingers” he cried, “MY FINGERS”. It would have been so upsetting if it hadn’t been so hilarious. The giant brute’s eyes had swelled with tears and had become bright red, his sobs filled the gym and he even called out for his mother. For an instant James envied him. He had experienced pain greater than that and he had called for his mother, begged for her, but he knew she couldn’t possibly come; Gavin’s was probably on the way right now. A teacher took him away from the gym his fingers dangling like worms, each one of them broken. A smile of satisfaction reached its way across James’ face; he hoped that the runners were worth four broken fingers. The rest of the bullies just looked at him, some frightened some angry but all of them seemingly too cowardly to say anything. James wasn’t surprised; they were verbal spectators and didn’t have a spine between them.
A few moments of hushed conversation and the odd outburst of manic laughter passed and the Headmaster walked out on to the stage in front of a large dark red curtain. To describe the man in one word was simple, repulsive. He hated the students and teachers alike and the feeling went both ways. His head was big, very big and reminded everyone of an egg, a giant egg with numerous liver spots. His third chin always had a little stubble on it, most people assumed it was because the Headmaster got lazy by the time he was to shave there and his ears stuck out. Not normally stick out but really stick out, with a good gale force wind he could take flight. Stopped at the microphone he yawned, opening his mouth so wide the students in the front row could count how many cavities he had. Then he belched, like his voice his bodily functions were loud too and with the added volume of the microphone the burp filled the gym and possibly the school. Some female students gagged while the teachers simply rolled their eyes in disgust.
“Shut up now, shut up now” he barked although there was no need as nobody was talking, the burp had unified the gym in joint silence. “This years entrants to the….am….the music….am” he fumbled on stage. Any normal person would feel embarrassed or at least apologise for forgetting, not the Headmaster. “Bloody hell I give up…here..” he said and swaggered off the stage, clearly drunk or at least savagely hungover. A nervous laugh rippled through the crowd as the Headmaster kicked something out of his way as he left the stage. Then the lights dimmed and the curtain rose.
On the stage sat four students, their faces partly obscured by the metal holders of the note sheets. All were dressed in the school uniform with the shirts and blouses tied to the top bottom.
“Why aren’t they ever bullied?” The thought was mean he knew but he couldn’t help it, James truly believed he was the school’s only victim of bullying, but of course there were others, the fact was just well concealed . The three girls and the boy exchanged glances and he started, the large cello between his legs began to fill the gym with its music. The violin was next; actually the two violins and they seemed to be in competition with each other, their bows striking at the strings in aggressive fashion. Finally the youngest looking girl started. Plucking at the strings she smiled widely out into the audience who were less than impressed with the display. The boy was sweating by now and his hands were visibly trembling which of course effected his playing. Aggressive bows or no the violins were following the cello’s lead and squeaks and missed notes caused slight jeering from the students. “These are the ones representing us” his opinions stayed within the confines of his mind, mainly, unlike others. Only the mandolin was seemingly playing perfectly, the young girl’s smile never fading as her comrades talents floundered. A shout came from the body of standing teenagers of “get off the stage, you suck” followed by a more audible jeering. That was enough for the cellist who dropped his bow and instead of picking it up his cheeks flushed red and he stormed off the stage, the endpin of the instrument snapping as he let go. Not sure what to do the two violinists exchanged looks and, as in playing, the two in unison quickly got up and left the stage, their instruments coming along. All that was left was the plucking young girl in front of hundreds of students and her teachers. She continued plucking the strings of the mandolin, closing her eyes in a bid to distance herself from the disapproving looks. The jeering stopped and the giggles stopped and she kept plucking. The sound was soothing, unusual and strangely comforting. James, like most of the other people in the gym was enjoying the music and the girl’s undeniable courage. For a moment he c
losed his eyes and imagined he was anywhere else listening to the music but school.
Booms echoed from outside and rain lashed against the windows while cracks of lightening sent blue colours raging throughout the gym. He opened his eyes and glanced at the window. The clouds outside were dark, really dark and the wind was beginning to pick up, its cries getting louder with every heartbeat. Glancing to the stage where the girl was still playing her mandolin he spied her, not the girl but someone else. Blonde and beautiful and wearing a blue and white robe she stood smiling next to the girl. Rolling thunder snapped his mind straight back to the present and in an instant he knew exactly what was happening, unfortunately. “It came in a storm, a random storm” he muttered to himself. Suddenly pale and his knees knocking James wanted to run, run far away. Smoke filled his nostrils and as he turned he felt an arm wrap itself around his neck. Another student one that he had never seen before in his life was standing next to him, his arm still wrapped around his neck.
“Well Jimmy, this is going to be interesting” the over familiar stranger smirked as he showed James a lighter.
“FIRE” he shouted again and again and again until the entire gym heard him and there was a slight ringing in James’ ears. Normally people wouldn’t budge when they heard a student shouting fire but the fact that smoke was starting to billow out from the doors leading to the bathrooms and janitor’s storeroom they took notice. The poor sheep, it was as if someone had let a wolf loose as they all panicked and any training on health and safety went out the window, along with a couple of students who were near them. It was a small wonder that nobody was trampled as the sheep swarmed every available door out of the place while others followed the window hoppers and slipped out into the welcome rain. It took only seconds for the entire gym to clear and all that were left were James, the mystery pyromaniac and the silvery blonde haired woman.
“Okay Jimmy I’ll take her out of here, you deal with that!” he said looking straight in James’ eyes. It was then, the eyes. Large emerald pearls staring intently at him. A slap brought James back to the reality of the situation and the “student” pointed James’ head in the direction of one of the unopened windows. His heart began to pound faster and his palms filled with moisture as the beast smashed the glass and slowly crept in, shards not bothering it in the slightest. A heart-stopping fear rushed through James’ veins as he looked upon the monster. That night he remembered only a glances of the winged thing was available to him when the lightning struck, now it was day and that didn’t help. Dark storm clouds almost immediately turned night to day and the lightening that enabled him on that night had knocked out the power of the school and possibly the town. Never the less James couldn’t help but look at it, its scaly black skin, the grotesque wings, the many stab wounds still visible. Lifting its head it sniffed the air its nostrils opening and closing as the wings slightly shuddered. Whatever sound the thing made then it filled James’ ears with a force that he could almost feel the blood dripping down the lobes. It turned its eyes to James, frozen in the gym, and it blinked. In an instant its tail struck like the head of a Cobra and James barely got of the way. Run was his only option as he realised the student and the silvery blonde woman were no where to be seen. Luck, which James had firmly believed was never his friend, showed him the exit mere yards from where he landed. Luck still wasn’t his friend. Outside, another black scaled nightmare stalked the corridor its tongue licking the air. It seemed bigger than the one in the gym and so James was caught between a monster and well a bigger monster. A shadow engulfed James as he stood looking out the door into the corridor and terror had filled his very soul he couldn’t bare to turn around. Wings, black as night swopped out and their shadows filled the walls. It was done, he had escaped ones clutches before, this very one and that was sheer dumb luck which was abandoning him today. Closing his eyes James prepared for what was to come, the bone-crushing strength, the venomous bite, and then death. Something came alright and it wasn’t death, nor the venom or the dismantlement of bones. It was the endpin of the broken cello, it rolled right to James’ feet, the sound of the spinning metal opening his eyes. Almost as quick as the beast’s tail strike James picked up the small weapon and lodged it deep in the belly of the monster, retracting it and pushing it back in numerous times until it fell into a heap on the hard cold gym floor.
The bus home was full of students complaining about the rain that had soaked their uniforms and schoolbags and jackets and damaged their smart this and kindle that. James was grateful he was able to sit on the bus in one piece, although he would have preferred not having to listen to them. He was going to place the headphones in but the encounter with Ms. Taylor suddenly jumped to the forefront of his mind. He almost felt glad she took them as part of him wanted to know exactly what they were saying about the events earlier in the day at the school. They commented on the events of the assembly and the fire that had started when the janitor dropped a cigarette into a bottle of chemicals. Not one of them seemed to be aware of the woman or the beasts and they never would, James hoped. After he had stabbed the thing it slowly dissolved in front of him until there was nothing left. Also he didn’t give a second glance outside the exit door; he just headed for the nearest bus stop. Even as they whispered some comments James was able to hear them from the top of the bus, he naturally put it down to the enhanced senses that he supposedly had. The girls whispered about how stupid the two violins were, and then they giggled. They laughed harder at the young girl who courageously plucked her mandolin when the other three abandoned her. “Wasn’t she pathetic, her nails were awful” and then the two erupted in laughter again. Obviously they weren’t nice girls, but James continued to listen as there was nothing else to do on the journey home other than watch as the town melted away to give birth to rolling green fields and vast woodland. Eventually they reached the little village that James called home, Hamlet.
Most of the village’s buildings were old, and the people that dwelled within them older. Their stone faces, the buildings not the people, were brought from the closed quarry about a mile away many years ago and it gave them a certain beauty and maturity. A few people pottered around the cobbled paths of the Hamlet, most of them old and all of them looking for news. With little else to occupy one’s mind in a quiet rural village the best way to keep entertained was to talk about others and just pray that your day never came. Normally James would pay a visit to his mother before going home to the lion’s den but today he was tired, sore and just plainly confounded. He wanted nothing more than to drop his schoolbag and collapse in his bed, never having to interact with the outside world again. Hood up and fringe down he struck for the small road home when he heard the two girls cry out “Bye Jaames” in one the most sarcastic tones his ears ever had the pleasure of hearing. One barrier missing made all the difference. Chilly was the wind and clear was the sky but there was the hint of a storm still brewing and James couldn’t shake the feeling that the incident in the school wasn’t the end of it, deep down he knew that it was the beginning of something that would be the end of him.
Smoke was coming from the chimney of his house and two cars were parked in the driveway, one for Miriam and one for Dad. The option of collapsing onto his bed and drowning out the entire world was fading as he eyed his father standing outside the front door watching him as he walked slowly up the road. Glancing at his watch and shaking his head the policeman James was forced to call Dad walked to the gate to meet him.
“I heard there was a bit of trouble in school” No hello, or how are you, straight to the point of why he was waiting for him. James barely answered; he could barely talk to him and only mumbled the words small fire before brushing past his father and heading for the front door.
“We were worried about you; the school called and said you weren’t there for roll call after the evacuation, what happened to you?” That’s a lie!. Neither of them cared enough about him to worry. Looking in Jack’s eyes genuinely for the firs
t time in many weeks James felt his father wished he had perished in the fire or perhaps better still been shredded to death or poisoned by the beast. In that instant James begged for the thunder to cry, the wind to howl, the lightning to streak and the beast to appear. He would leave it to his father and Miriam while he collapsed onto his bed and drowned out the world. Alas the wind didn’t pick up nor did the thunder answer his call and the lightning showed no sign of streaking.
“I got out, and I answered when my name was called. They obviously didn’t hear me” A lie in return was what he gave his father, he deemed it only fair.
“I’m glad you’re alright” his father said placing a hand on his shoulder and walking him to the front door. James smiled, another lie, they were getting good at it and even the hand on the shoulder, physical lies.
Inside the hall James placed his schoolbag on the floor and suddenly his stomach grumbled uncontrollably. The immense smell of roasting chicken and boiling turnips with butter and thyme filled his nostrils and caused a wave of saliva to accumulate in his mouth. He had forgotten how hungry he was.
“Dinner will be ready in a few minutes” she shouted from the kitchen. Rolling his eyes without his father seeing James suddenly wasn’t hungry and made his way for the stairs when his father gently tugged him back.
“Be a good boy and lay the table, we’ll have a nice family dinner tonight” he smiled a gritted smile. For the sake of peace and due to the fact that the beast didn’t answer his wishes James made his way for the kitchen and pushing open the door he realised Miriam wasn’t alone, but she didn’t. Dressed in a provocative red top and short, very short, red hot pants the blonde beauty got up from her chair and held out her arms. “Hello Darling” she said loudly.