Road to London: City of the Dead

II
June 10th

“Wake up!”
Nathan was glad that his alarm clock hadn’t gone off. It meant that he had an excuse to sleep in until Mr Ludlow came and woke him up himself. Seeing as the voice telling him to get up didn’t have a heavy lisp, he assumed that it wasn’t Ludlow and so he could pretend to ignore whoever it was, probably Tom. Perhaps Ludlow was dead, not that Nathan would care if he was. Mr Ludlow was the sort of man who would undoubtedly be a case study for anyone taking Arsehole Studies at university level.

“Wake up!”
He prized an eye open to take a sneaky peak at the display on the digital alarm. Quarter past nine. That meant he’d missed breakfast, school had started and if he got Tom to piss off he could stay in bed for at least another three hours before the cleaners found him. Then he could pretend to be ill, go to the sick rooms and sleep for a further two hours.

“Nathan! Wake the fuck up!”
A bony fist punched him in the ribs and Nathan yelped. He rolled out of his bed onto the floor before jumping to his feet and getting ready to give Tom the biggest dead arm he’d ever had. It wasn’t Tom. Standing in front of Nathan in her school uniform was his girlfriend Svetlana, which surprised him for a number of reasons.

“You’re not allowed in here...” started Nathan, realising that this probably sounded incredibly stupid so he tried to make his next statement witty; “Which means that either this is a dream or you’re in a shitload of trouble” Happy with this start he carried on, “Either way, I’m not going to listen to what you have to say, I’m not going to put any boxers on and I am going back to sleep.” Content with his speech, Nathan sat back down, but stopped when he saw the tears forming at the corners of her large, green eyes.

The Russian girl was short, perhaps only five foot two. From a distance she could probably be confused for a child as she was incredibly slight and worked hard to conceal her curves under her uniform. Nathan was grateful for this. He knew how quick he was to anger when aware of the wandering eyes of other boys.

Nathan adopted a much softer tone and patted the bed, inviting her to sit next to him. “I was only joking Svet... What’s up?” Svetlana brushed the tears away, managed a weak smile and whispered in his ear two words that were so quiet he could barely hear them; “Something’s wrong”

***

After not being able to get any more information out of Svet, Nathan decided that whatever was wrong it could wait for him to have a shower and get dressed so it was at a quarter to ten when he and Svet left the boarding house and walked down to main school. There were groups of students everywhere, some wandering aimlessly and others sitting with frightened or confused looks on their faces. “So... What exactly is going on?” asked Nathan as they walked past a group of year seven girls who had grouped so tightly that they resembled a herd of zebra. Their eyes followed the pair as they passed, giving away how far out of their wits they had been scared.

“No one’s here,” Svet replied without looking at him. Assuming that the last statement wasn’t as stupid as it sounded he waited for more specific information. “We were in breakfast and there were no house parents or cafeteria staff so we waited. And waited. And waited. After about half an hour Israel and Latiwa walked out and people just started wandering around school. That’s when I came to find you.”
“Has anyone tried to find the house parents?”
“I think a load of people have gone over there now but no one answered when I knocked on the Ludlows’ door on the way here.” Nathan stood and silence for a moment, thinking.
“Has anyone tried to call the police?”
“Yeah I tried a couple of times but there was no answer, nothing.”

It was then that Nathan heard the banging. It was regular and booming. The sound was clear in Nathan’s ears even though it seemed to be from far away. He and Svet followed the banging through the school. As they came closer the mood seemed to change. The students here were older and obviously more concerned with looking cool than what was going on. Many were laughing and smiling but the underlying worry was clear through the image.

It was probably because he’d been woken up only a short while ago and he was still tired but it seemed to Nathan that everything had a somewhat reddish tint to it. The stones on the floor and the clouds in the sky slightly discouloured as if a network of capilleries were running just below their surfaces. He looked up at the sun to see whether it was being obscured by wnything but was rewarded only by the star’s signiture painful glare which said to him “Mind your own bloody busniess”. A threat noted and aknowledged.

As they came to the Headmaster’s grit driveway the source of the banging became apparent. A year ten boy whose name Nathan seemed to recall as Wayne Hayden was slamming his shoulder into the door repeatedly. A group of about fifteen other students were watching silently. Although Hayden was big for his age (bigger than Nathan) he was having a lot of trouble with the door and his face was red.

“You know Burns will kill you for that when he finds out it was you.” called out Svet, who was nearly at the gathering. “Besides it looks like you could use some help with that.”
“Actually I’m doing just fine thanks!” retorted Hayden protectively. However it was clear by the way that he was cradling his left shoulder that he was not in fact doing ‘just fine’. Nathan didn’t like Hayden at all. Even though he was a year younger Hayden had a habit of squaring up to year eleven’s. A habit that had earned him more than a few black eyes which he sported like trophies amongst his peers.

A crunching of gravel behind them turned heads. Israel and Latiwa were striding up the gravel path arm in arm, with Safia following in their wake. The pair radiated confidence and the “in your face” attitude was impossible to ignore. While neither of them were particularly attractive people they still made an awe inspiring impression. From this distance they looked like a normal sized couple but Nathan knew that they were both big people.

Israel was six foot two and weighed over thirteen stone. He would have made a brilliant wrestler or kick boxer but instead preferred to act out his violent tendencies on the street. If it wasn’t for the damage that Israel’s mother could do to the international reputation of St. James’, he would have been expelled years ago. Every time he went off site either for a school trip or just leisure time, there was some kind of “incident” with witnesses supporting both sides. Israel usually claimed that anti-Semitism had provoked his actions but this was unnecessary as the worst punishment he ever received was a couple of days in isolation.

Latiwa was probably as big for a girl as Israel was for a boy. Although she was slim and shapely her rolled up sleeves and hitched up skirt revealed an incredibly toned set of muscles under her dark skin. Unlike her boyfriend, Latiwa was a wrestler, and a boxer. The school reception was full of the trophies that she had won (both nationally and internationally) and couldn’t be bothered to take back to Nigeria. Although she joined in with Israel’s brawls and usually ended them, she always resented him for it and claimed that she only fought to stop Israel getting the shit kicked out of him. Nathan had a theory that if anyone he knew could get into the Olympics it was Latiwa, but if she didn’t then no-one would.

Apparently the first order of the day for these two upon discovering the lack of establishment was to ditch the uniform that they hated oh-so-much. While Latiwa had been satisfied with converting hers to a state within which she was comfortable, Israel had gone the full mile and was now kitted out in his black jeans, steel capped army boots, Metallica T-shirt and his infamous studded jacket which sported an Inverted Pentagon on the over the right breast and a Star of David over the left.

With Israel’s red Mohican and Latiwa’s green tinged dreads it was no surprise that they were at their happiest while thrashing out to Nu-Metal in the mosh pit of whatever concert they could get to. In fact Nathan and Svet had become friends with the two when they shared a taxi after sneaking out of school to see KoRn at Newquay Rock Festival.
“What the fuck’s goin’ on here then?” quizzed Israel when they finally reached the group after an entrance that had deserved a theme tune to accompany it.
“Hayden wants to break into Burns’ house but can’t quite manage it,” answered Svet, who shared Nathan’s dislike of the boy and was happy to mock Hayden in front of one of the few people bigger than him.
“Get the fuck out the way ya’ mug!”

Another pet hate of Latiwa’s was the North London Cockney accent that he always used and that she was sure he was putting on. He claimed that it was because his mother was the Israeli Ambassador and so spent a lot of her time in North London helping Zionists seeking ‘Right of Return’ but Nathan suspected that he’d picked it up from the Jewish gangsters in the Guy Richie films that he loved so much and watched on a regular basis.

He effortlessly shoved Hayden to one side (much to the boy’s anger) and without taking a run-up, kicked the door with the flat of his boot as hard as he could. The wood fell through its frame, ripped off the hinges but still in one piece. It crashed to the floor of the corridor like some kind of welcome mat. A thin haze of dust rose from the door, revealing how long it had been since Mr. Burns had last vacuum cleaned his house. He, Latiwa, Nathan and Svet walked into the house, followed after a short hesitation by some of the braver younger years.

Nathan had never been in Mr. Burn’s house before. However it matched his expectations and displayed the tell-tale signs of a control freak; pictures lining the walls that could not be ignored, thin corridors and low ceilings, plain cream walls with vibrant carpeting.

He also spotted evidence of the Headmaster’s youngest, Dylan. There were dark stains on the floors and walls where Mrs. Burns had obviously spent many hours scrubbing away at the vomit, faeces and urine, obviously without the assistance of Vanish Oxy-Action, the effectiveness of which was Nathan’s Aunt Mary’s sole conversation starter.
“Mr. Burns?” called out Svet, in more of a whisper than a shout, which showed her uneasiness and realisation that she had just broken into the Headmaster’s home. Again she cried out the name, this time with more confidence.

“Oi, Dickhead!” Yelled Israel with a huge grin across his face, concluding that it was safe to use such language as the family was either not here or had come down with spontaneous deafness. Unsurprisingly and much to Israel’s relief there was no reply. “They’re not in,” stated Israel, convinced. He proceeded to march up the narrow staircase up to the second floor.
“Where are you going?” Svet demanded.
“Well if Burns isn’t here, then he won’t mind if I have a look around and maybe liberate some things, will he?”
“Yes,” cut in Nathan, “I’m sure that he definitely, would mind if he found out that you broke into his house and nicked his stuff.” Unperturbed, Israel continued his treasure hunt, casually claiming that he would cross that bridge when he came to it.

Svet seemed to be uncharacteristically thrilled by the experience and had already followed Israel and Latiwa up to the first floor. Sighing to himself because he knew that no good could come of this, he jumping up the steps, stopping to chuckle at a picture of Burn’s mother which bore more resemblance to her son than Nathan thought was possible. The laugh was quiet yet sounded throughout the house with the slightest ghost of an echo.

He realised that he could no longer hear the rummaging sounds of the couple upstairs or the laughs as they stumbled upon something embarrassing. Climbing more quietly, Nathan ascended the stairs. He took care to minimise the creaking of the steps but swore loudly when some loose carpeting nearly sent him hurtling down the flight. After finally conquering the stairs Nathan crept along a thin corridor, searching for his friends and found them gathered in a doorway. Stock still. Silent as the grave. He didn’t ask them what they were doing but instead peered over Svet’s head, steeling himself for a sight that he would never forget.