by C. S Luis
He thought of discussing it with Claudia but then considered that perhaps keeping it quiet was the best way to protect her from having to go through the whole thing again. It was hard for him to stand within Neil’s old office, recollecting old times when they would talk during the day.
And now he was alone, looking at all the plaques and framed pictures on the walls. There was a picture of Claudia on the desk; he hadn’t seen it there before, and he figured Neil had placed it there before he…
He didn’t want to think about it again. Did he try to fight that moment of death? Who didn’t try to fight the hand of death when it unexpectedly came calling? If only he had been there, but even if he had, would that have made any difference? Would he have been able to save him? Perhaps he was just trying to justify his absence with excuses.
Michael took a seat in Neil’s old chair, feeling the desk with his hands, recalling Neil’s own hands upon it many times. He saw things through Neil’s perspective as he looked towards the door from his place at the desk. He lowered his head, staring at the picture on the wall and then at the picture on the desk. One was of Claudia, and the other was of Neil alone by the entrance of the school.
He picked up the picture of Claudia. It had been taken possibly outside of her home, possibly for her birthday. He wondered how Neil had gotten his hands on it. Well, the man always had his ways. He smirked; he wondered what Claudia would have thought of such a thing if she had ever seen it, and then he put it inside the top drawer of the desk. He allowed the other picture of Neil to stay up on the wall, merely to admire it or perhaps feel Neil was watching him.
He was already thinking of how he would get Neil’s things out of the building; he would simply instruct the movers to deliver the items to his house, Neil’s old house. And then, while Claudia was at school, he would put them up in the attic so she would never have to see them and be reminded about anything. He intended to keep his word and protect her. With time, they would go through the items together; perhaps he would even bring a few pictures down and display them in the house.
6
Dr. John Black
“Getting the feel for the position?” I asked, glaring into the office, staring at a man with white ghostly, short hair and dark eyebrows. He looked up from behind the desk; he looked confused and embarrassed when he looked over at me from the other side. It seemed as though I had startled him from a very deep thought.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m Dr. John Black.” God, that sounded strange. Then I asked, “Are you the acting principal, Michael McClellan?”
But, of course, I already knew who he was; I had read over his file twice. He was an English teacher, never been married, and lived in a single one-bedroom apartment. He basically did nothing but teach. He had never been in any real trouble, not even a parking ticket. His only mistake was being in my way and being good friends with Dr. Edwards, the man I was sent to replace.
He cleared his throat and barely moved until I entered and came forward, and only then did he stumble to his feet, coming towards me and extending his hand out to me. I shook it. He seemed surprised by my strong handshake, and he even stiffened as I firmly shook it and smiled. I laughed on the inside at this timid form of a man before me. I wasn’t prepared for it merely because I am always out in the field with much bigger foes, dangerous and daring people that were always trying to kill me. Foes came at you without fear and looked you in the eyes before they tried to choke the life out of you. Michael was obviously not a foe.
He shook my hand, and I noticed that he looked out of the office and motioned to the secretary, a woman with cotton white hair and large black-framed glasses. She hadn’t been there before when I’d come in, but she was no concern to me. She seemed to have only four or five years before retirement. She went to church to play bingo and often visited the casinos in New Orleans. She spent her evenings watching reality shows like Dancing with the Stars, and had been working in the school district for almost twenty years. She had no living relatives and considered Milton her home away from home.
Mr. McClellan was still holding my hand when I smiled again; I wanted to ask if I could have that back, but I think the look I gave him had already done that, and he might have even blushed. I could see he was nervous, and I had thought women were the only creatures John Slater could make squirm.
I looked back at the secretary as she nodded, and Mr. McClellan closed the door behind us. I didn’t ask why he closed the door. Perhaps he was expecting someone; perhaps he was asking her not to let anyone interrupt us. Whatever it was, I was in no real danger, not with this guy at least.
“Yes, sir I am,” Mr. McClellan nervously answered. He looked embarrassed. Did I have the same effect on men that I had on women? Perhaps it was the dark sunglasses, my infrared device that I hadn’t yet removed. Mr. McClellan, obviously human, and not my target. I always found it a little hard to speak to someone behind a pair of eyeglasses, especially if that eyeglass was shaded, but it looked like he had a harder time meeting me in the eyes when I finally did remove them, putting them in the side pocket of my striped blue suit. My tie was crisscrossed with light purple lines. I preferred wearing a suit and tie; I preferred looking my best for any occasion, even to murder. People found me pleasant to look at: professional and not at all dangerous. Was it always the suit, or was it the smile on my handsome face they found pleasant? But this morning, the suit was required for the title I would play.
Mr. McClellan looked delighted and yet somewhat confused and impressed. I was used to the look, the confusion, and curiosity. My boss had often said I was too uptight. But I didn’t take well to change, especially from something I very much enjoyed. But the millions he would soon pay me would make up for all of my troubles.
“Welcome sir, welcome,” he again said; his hands were trembling. Yes, I could be intimidating with my height, my confidence, and my self-assured smile.
“We have been expecting you. Don’t worry about the furniture and other items; the movers will be in tomorrow to set things ready for you,” Mr. McClellan nervously said.
“Not a worry,” I said. I took a moment to look around even though I knew I wouldn’t be there for long.
“This used to be Dr. Edwards’ office, correct?” I politely asked. Of course, I already knew the answer from things I had seen around the room. When working in the field I worked in, one had to be aware of his surroundings. I had spotted pictures on the walls, along the bookshelves, and even on the desk. The man was an overachiever. His name was everywhere alongside the occasional photograph. Besides, I had the file on Dr. Neil Edwards. I knew everything about this place.
Mr. McClellan looked at me as though my mannerisms seemed alien to him. In fact, he hadn’t stopped looking at me in that manner since I’d arrived. It was a thought that I was aware kept repeating in his mind: he doesn’t belong here. Perhaps he was confused by the way I conducted myself. I’d forgotten myself again: my place and my character. His eyes said it all. I was pleasant to look at and yet too professional to be accepted. I tried hard to do my part, to pretend and shed what I was used to, but that would take time.
“Yes, sir,” Mr. McClellan answered, politely glancing over at me. I walked around, looking at the items in the office; I had no actual interest, of course. I had Dr. Edwards’ file; he was an older man with a granddaughter, Claudia Belle. It was her file I didn’t have. Before my arrival to Milton, Bryce had responded to my email with a single word:
Sending
I wanted an explanation and knew I would get it soon, but as for now, I was on my own with only the brief information I’d acquired from the Internet. I assumed Bryce would explain his email to me in time once I had given him my first report. At least I hoped this was true. Besides, what trouble could any of these people really cause? The assignment was simple: infiltrate, detect, and retrieve. It was only a matter of time, and then I could leave this place and be back to my old ways. I could already taste the rewarding red wine and the lady o
f my choosing.
“I hold great respect for Dr. Edwards. He was a great educator; he started his career as a teacher and was promoted to principal later in life. He missed the contact with his students,” I said, turning with a smile on my face. It was just mere small talk, mere bullshit, and mere conversation that held no interest for me.
“I admired that devotion. I can never replace a man like that,” I said, blinking back slightly. Mr. McClellan appeared amazed by my knowledge. It was wise to know the intended target; although, Dr. Edwards was not the actual target. It was my job to act the part of the devoted and caring principal; it was what the role required. It was what I had to be. And although I hated every part of it, it was my job.
Mr. McClellan already admired that about me. He was easy to convince, and I only hoped the rest would be easy as well. My job would become easier than it already was. I watched him glance down at the mess on the desk, perhaps embarrassed by it. There was a pile of papers and other items on the desk, pictures and folders he had removed out of the desk drawers. He was sorting out Dr. Edwards’ personal and work items and separating them on top of the desk.
“Sorry about the mess,” he politely offered.
“Mr. McClellan, it’s quite alright. Given the circumstances, I should be apologizing to you,” I kindly said.
He seemed taken aback by my polite manner.
“Well, thank you, sir. But please call me Michael and welcome to Milton High, if I haven’t already said that,” Michael nervously added as he shook my hand again. The man was incredibly nervous and smiled as he realized we had already shaken hands. I glanced at the picture on the desk and admired the frame.
“Dr. Edwards had a granddaughter? You’ve been appointed guardianship of her, correct? What has become of her?” I asked, having no file on her; it was a bad call on my part to question, but it would offer some form of Intel about her. It was something I needed. The picture in my hands was of Dr. Edwards standing by a buffalo at the entrance of the school. Damn, I sure had hoped for a picture of her in case I ran into her. It would be very polite to know her and offer my condolences.
Michael merely glanced at me curiously, perhaps confused at first as to what I meant until he realized what it was I held.
“I have. Yes, sir,” he uttered. “Claud—” Michael said before I interrupted.
“Claudia Belle, correct?” I finished for Michael.
“Yes, sir,” Michael answered; although he didn’t know how I knew, he didn’t seem to chance to ask. Though I could tell he was curious as to why I had asked about her, it was perhaps the polite thing to do since Edwards was now gone. I asked only out of curiosity, information, and boredom. It was part of the role, and it wasn’t one I was enjoying much.
“How is she doing? And her parents?” I politely asked.
“They’re deceased, sir. Recently from a car accident,” Michael politely answered; I swallowed, realizing my Intel had been answered.
“She’s doing well considering the events of these past weeks. Thank you for asking,” Michael said.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know she had also recently lost her parents,” I said. It was quite a tragedy. “It would be an honor to meet her. I’d like to offer my condolences,” I politely offered.
Michael thought I was being sincere, but I was just being bold and direct about certain things on my mind. That’s how I often discovered things about others without trying too hard to search for them. They merely offered the information voluntarily. It was part of the job, a part that was dull and boring. I was more of a skilled killer, and office work bored me. But now, I knew a bit about Miss Belle even though Bryce had failed to send me the file. She was, after all, important if she was Dr. Edwards’ granddaughter.
“Is she here?” I asked. Michael looked grateful I had inquired; he bought all this bullshit I was feeding him, and I never even hated myself for it. It was part of the job, and I did it well, almost as well as I hunted. The hunt was more entertaining, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t good at both.
“Yes, she’s a student here, sir, but I was hoping to avoid her seeing us here. After all, this is her grandfather’s old office,” Michael said with difficulty. Ah, of course. He was the protective guardian, the acting guardian after Dr. Edwards’ death. What did I care? I had done my homework: every mission required it, every assignment required knowledge of the target and those surrounding the target. You had to be prepared or they could become potential threats. But they really weren’t threats, not in this case.
“Say no more, Michael. I understand, perhaps another time,” I politely said. “Or when I’ve completely settled into the position, then we can get properly acquainted.”
Michael nodded. I had pleased him, and he seemed like a simple man to please or to even fool.
It was then that I realized my assignment seemed too simple; if nothing changed, I would die of boredom and nothing else. What did Michael think of when he looked at me? What did they all think of? Did they think I was too good for this school, too immaculate or professional, or perhaps too handsome? These were all true facts, the very reasons I had not wanted the mission in the first place. I looked very out of place.
“It’s there, and I want you there. You have history.” I again thought of Nicholson’s words.
Did we? Or was it just more bullshit?
“Sir, would you like me to show you around?” Michael suddenly offered. I glared at him; I really had no time. I wanted to escape before the feeling of normal surrounded and suffocated me. This was no place for John Slater.
“Actually, I’m afraid I have another appointment, Michael,” I answered. “I’m meeting with the school board. Nothing to be concerned about, it’s simply procedure. They asked me to pay Milton a quick visit before I present myself later in the morning. That’s why I came here first,” I said.
Michael appeared concerned, and I suddenly realized why. He was scared of losing his job. It was nothing I was familiar with. How odd it was to only fear that, the loss of one’s job. I had far more to fear, but not even that could make it as real as the fear I saw in his eyes. What a simple life. What a boring life.
“I hope everything is alright,” Michael nervously said.
“I’m sure it is,” I offered him, hoping to ease his concerns, but there was no truth to anything of what I had just said. That’s the beauty of it. It was a beautiful lie, The Company’s lie, and John Slater’s lie.
“Well, I guess we’ll have to postpone our little tour for tomorrow,” I said with a smile. “Until then, Michael.”
And with that, I walked out the door. This was going to be an easy task, and for my sanity, I hoped it would end quickly. I hated schools, I hated children, and I hated pencil pushers.
7
Milton high in Mourning
It was bright and early on Monday when Michael’s black Honda SUV drove into the empty space in the teacher’s parking lot. Michael turned off the engine as I sat there, looking straight ahead. He didn’t say anything at first, but after a bit, he turned slightly over to me.
I had missed a week of school after my grandfather’s funeral, and now on my return, I sat wondering if I was ready to face the countless strangers’ sympathetic faces.
“You don’t have to do this now,” Michael very softly said. I turned to look at him; I could see he was genuinely worried about me. And right now, I knew he would do and say anything for me. I tried not to think about what I had heard in his thoughts the day of the funeral and what they meant, if anything. I wanted to ask, but I didn’t want him to know I had been in his head, so I decided not to say anything.
“I know,” I very softly whispered. “But things aren’t going to change.” I smiled back at him.
“I have to come to terms with that,” I again said.
“Claudia,” he started to say but I interrupted.
“Michael, I’m alright. I just want to get through this, okay?” I asked, staring back at him, forcing that smile to stay on my
lips.
Michael nodded with difficulty and then said, “But, if for any reason you feel…”
“Michael,” I interrupted and put a hand over his; with that, he only smiled and then nodded.
“Very well,” he whispered softly as he took a deep breath. “I’m still assisting with principal duties, so Ms. Witherson will be teaching my class until next week. You’re alright with that?” He asked.
“I suppose so,” I whispered. I didn’t know Ms. Witherson.
“Her class is located on the second floor. If you need help locating it, I can walk you there or have Mr. Claypool or Mr. Vasquez…”
“Michael,” I said cutting him off again. “I can find it myself; please stop worrying.”
He tried to smile but then only nodded his head. “Sorry. All of this is so new to me too,” he said, looking towards Milton’s stone building entrance as the yellow buses were driving up and taking their places by the side of the building in a yellow, long line. “I don’t want to fail you.” Michael turned back to me.
“You’re not,” I whispered with a smile. I liked the attention he was giving me, the concern that was in great abundance, but I also thought it was too much. I couldn’t blame Michael; he was a kindhearted man with nothing but the best intentions. As he had said, this was all new to him, just as it was for me.
“I’ll have a radio on me if for any reason you need to get hold of me,” Michael softly offered. He looked tired as well as overwhelmed. The temp assigned by the district had left after the second day, and Michael said the new replacement principal was due to arrive pretty soon. But I wasn’t sure when he meant. I knew Michael had been using my grandfather’s office to assume the duties of the principal, and I planned to stay away from there for now; it brought me too many bad feelings, mostly guilt and regrets.
