Road to London: City of the Dead

IV
June 10th

It had taken Conrad the whole day to round up all of the students and gather them in the school sports hall. As head boy his authority had gone unchallenged by most of the younger years but there were a few year elevens and even a few tens who had needed to be shouted at or even have some sense slapped into them before they did as they were told. Conrad hated shouting and using any kind of violence, but he understood that it was necessary if he was to maintain a form of order.

Just like everyone else at St. James’, Conrad didn’t have a clue what was going on. Just like everyone else he’d heard the rumours that some year elevens had broken into the head master’s flat and found him, his wife and his baby dead, but he hadn’t investigated the matter personally and had spent half his day convincing curious twelve year olds not to do so either.

Even though he was on the same level of situational awareness as most of the rest of the school, he understood the importance of keeping up the appearance that he knew exactly what he was doing. If he lost his composure, then his authority would soon disintegrate and the school would descend into chaos. It had taken Conrad nearly an hour to psyche himself up into a state where he could focus solely on the matter at hand.

After finally getting some of his peers to take some responsibility and keep everyone in the hall, he tracked down the people responsible for the break in by following rumours and crossing off the results of the various Chinese whispers that had been fabricated in an alarmingly short amount of time. These included a story that Charles Fielding (a tiny year nine boy) had gone insane and slit the family’s throats in their sleep, along with every other adult on site.

Although obviously untrue, Conrad had decided to check the validity of this claim as Charles was the sort of person who’s incessant bullyment may eventually lead to a psychological explosion and some kind of killing spree. As it happened Charles was sitting in the hall with the rest of his year, somehow unaware of this rumour and its implications. It would appear that the explosion would have to wait until middle age.

After what seemed like hours - and probably was - his detective work led him to a group of solemn looking metal-heads who were leaning and slumping against a brick wall behind the science block. The two girls were smoking, their exhalations deep and sombre, as if they were attempting to spit out the traces of a terrible memory all the while knowing that this was impossible. All were staring into empty space.

Conrad didn’t even need to ask. He knew these were the ones. Although he had shared most of his lessons in the same set as Nathan and Svetlana, he had rarely spoken to the former. He didn’t think he had ever said a word to either the other, formidable looking couple apart from when he had presented Latiwa with sporting awards every achievement assembly.

He took a seat on the floor facing them. There were no words for a short intermission until Svetlana finished her cigarette and addressed him by his most hated pet-name; Prefect. The reason he despised this title so much was because it forged a division between him the rest of the people his age. He knew this gap was especially large between he and the group before him, whose lack of respect for authority was renowned at St. James’.

They talked for a while about what the four had found in the headmaster’s house, Conrad being as tactful as he could. He was careful not to become angered at the one-word, often irrelevant answers given when he enquired into the nature of the discovery and into any clues they might have as to why the family had died. By the end he had no choice but to infer that there was no obvious cause of death and he would have to look into it himself in order to determine whether there was any threat to the rest of the school.

He beckoned to the four to follow him back to the house, where they bundled the bodies in bed sheets and carried them up to school and locked them in an empty English room using the keys that he had taken from the staff room at the beginning of the day. He had had to swap with Latiwa half way through the journey when she had began shaking so hard with shock that there was a risk that she would drop the baby.

The whole ordeal had been speechless and Conrad had felt uncomfortable breaking the silence with yet another morbid reality that the same fate had probably befallen the other members of staff on the site, and that they too would need to be moved to the English room. And so the rest of the daylight hours for the five boys and girls were spent in much the same way. Before long the monotony of the carrying and travelling to each house and boarding house with mechanical efficiency outweighed and clouded the melancholy truth of what they were doing.

The last bodies were those of two kitchen staff members. The blue cotton sheets hid the absolute whiteness of their skin but was thin enough so that Conrad could tell exactly who lay beneath, he even knew one of their names. It was Sarah. She had always been nice to Conrad and his friends, given them extra large helpings when they asked and turned a blind eye if they helped themselves to a second pudding.

As the procession began its hopefully final route to the English block Conrad stopped them, directing the group instead to the cafeteria kitchens. When Latiwa asked why he replied with one word; “Freezers”. No one questioned him. He had expected them to, but whether they were aware of his intentions or not they obeyed without a word. Conrad hated this kind of responsibility. Again he had convinced people that he knew what he was doing when he was just as scared as they were, probably more. But the task at hand blotted everything out.

Every other bridge under the sun would just have to wait its turn for him to come to it.
Conrad had never been into the cafeteria kitchens before. He had seen it from the other side looking in but never from this perspective. He imagined Sarah and her colleague filing into the room, groggy from an early awakening. The apparition vanished, and Sarah was once again laid across his shoulder like a hero of war on arrival back in the homeland.

The five placed the corpses on the floor and hoisted open the corporate sized freezer tank which was mainly filled with bags of vegetables and large slabs of meat. With an unspoken countdown the two lunch ladies were heaved into the freezer box. “Wait!” called James, as Israel was about to slide shut the lid. He paused, let go and allowed the door to slide back to its magnetically held resting position at a ninety degree angle to box.
“I’m sorry guys but we’re gonna have to take off the sheets,” The reception for this was four disheartened and desperate faces. Their eyes pleaded with him to retract his request and spare them from this last demoralizing act.
“He’s right,” the voice came from Svetlana, although her lips had not appeared to move. Lips blue like ice.
“If we leave on the sheets they’ll fuse to the skin in the cold...”

Resigned, Nathan and Israel went about unravelling the material, doing their best to not move or touch the bare flesh of the women.
Conrad looked into Israel’s eyes, and saw only pain. This was an experience that the large boy would find hard to forget. As hard as he tried to appear he could not hide the true Israel right now. It was a moment of weakness. One that would soon be left behind as soon as this whole nasty business was done with. But Conrad was somehow sure that this would not be the last time that he witnessed a chink in this armour.

Conrad turned and looked into Nathan’s eyes. And saw nothing. If there was truly any of what he had seen in Israel lurking inside Nathan’s heart than it was buried deep. So deep that all Conrad could see in his eyes was the reflection of the bodies. Like himself, Nathan was dealing only with the task at hand. Not a particularly healthy approach to tackling life’s hurdles, but one that they both felt was necessary. His method seemed different though. While Conrad had stuffed everything apart from adrenaline and common sense to the back of his mind, Nathan just appeared empty. A void. But then again he had always seemed that way.

When the job was done, Conrad slowly closed the lid, the creak of the hinges a blood curdling scream in his ears. The gap shut like the last nail in the roof of a coffin. The final resting place for two people that Conrad had seen and smiled at almost every day since he had come to this school. But he knew that this was not the place of rest.
As the group left the kitchen, not daring to look back at that freezer that had so suddenly become so macabre, Conrad put a hand on Svetlana’s shoulder and took her to one side.

He waited until the others were out of earshot before saying: “Svet, I know it’s a horrible thought,” she gazed up at him, her eyes dulled and greyer than he had ever noticed, “But at some point we’re going to have to find out what happened.”
She cocked her head quizzically, before catching the undertone and bowing her head, knowing that the worst was still yet to come.
“You mean I’ll have to find out...”
“Well... I mean, I’ll be there as well but...” he stopped. Deciding how he was going to say what he wanted without his mouth seizing up. “Have you ever...”
“Yes.” She cut in. Secretly Conrad was thankful that he hadn’t had to say the words. “Once before, in Moscow the chief consultant and a friend of my mother’s let me do it under supervision...” Again there was a long pause. Conrad knew he shouldn’t press but his fascination was too strong. His curiosity eventually chewed through his first instincts.
“How was it?” he asked, instantly realising the tactlessness of his words. A third gap. Larger than those before it. Conjuring up an atmosphere of absolute suspense. Conrad knew what was coming next, just as a horror-film enthusiast knows exactly what fate is to befall the heroin.

“The most horrible experience of my life...”