The School of the Undead

by Michael Woods

  Amanda turned on the LED light on her phone once more and made for the field that sided on to Mary’s property. With a little difficulty – and with her attention focused on the ground to determine if she could find any evidence of footprints - Amanda traversed the boggy ground of the field’s edge to reach the clearly uncared for wooden fence panels of Mary’s back garden. Before her, she could see the curving form of two panels that had collapsed into the garden, who knew how long ago. After turning off the phone’s torch and returning the device to her pocket, Amanda slowly shuffled her way up to the fence, careful to make as little noise as possible and to avoid tripping herself up on some object hidden by the dark.

  Gently, Amanda laid her hand on one of the panels that had broken away from the rest of the fence and peered through the gap that had been formed in between. Her eye was first drawn to the light of the now broken window of the bathroom and the shifting shadow created by someone inside. As the breeze shifted, it carried the mundane sound of Mary sweeping away the shards of glass to Amanda, leading the young vampire to question whether she was doing the right thing by snooping on the woman’s house in the dark without anything but a gut feeling to tell her that she might find a clue as to what was really going on.

  However, these notions were cast aside by a sign of movement at the back of the garden. Though Amanda only noticed the shifting shape out of the corner of her eye, she was almost certain she had seen something, and that this something had covered too great a distance to be just one of the garden’s bushes swaying in the breeze. As her eyes adjusted to the relative darkness of the garden, compared to the brightness of the window, Amanda thought that the sight of a man in a long coat was emerging before her. The figure was standing next to what seemed to be Mary’s shed and continued to remain stock still as Amanda continued to observe, making it impossible for her to know for sure if there was someone really there: it was just too dark to tell.

  Suddenly, the spell was broken as Amanda’s phone rang with a noise that - even though it was not so loud - was alien enough to shatter the previous calm and silence of the evening. As quickly as she could, Amanda withdrew the phone from her pocket and hit the pad to decline the call. When she returned her attention to the spot where the figure had been standing, she found it to be empty. The lack of something or someone being there left her feeling exposed and led her to hurriedly examine her surrounds for fear that whoever had cast the stone at Mary’s home had now turned their attention to her.

  There was no one in sight, but in the darkness around her, this gave her little comfort. Part of her still wanted to check whether whoever or whatever she thought she had seen in the garden had left anything behind, but as she remained standing and staring through the fence, she could not hold down the growing sense of fear that she was in danger. Soon enough, her fear grew to be too much of a distraction and, after muttering to herself that she was just being a coward, she began the slow trek back to her car.

  Within what she told herself to be the relative safety of her Clio, Amanda kept a watch on Mary’s house for a dozen painfully slow minutes. As she watched, no figure emerged from the field or the pathway that led to the home’s back garden. Indeed, as far as she could tell, nothing stirred at all. It seemed unlikely to her that anything further would develop and that if it were the case that the figure she had seen in the garden was still around, there was little chance after so long that he, or whatever it was, was going to make himself known. She withdrew her phone from her pocket, where she had hastily stored it after declining the call that had given her away, and found that it had been the deputy who had tried to get in contact with her. She had no intention of calling him back straight away, she still felt too unsettled. She urged herself to start the car, she would return the deputy’s call when she was back at the hotel.

  ***

  As Amanda’s Clio disappeared around the corner, he emerged from his favourite hiding spot beside 53 Balfour Lane. What had been an anxious and drawn out twenty minutes or so for Amanda had been a playful period for him, one that was over all too soon. Others might have been disappointed that a plan that had been set in place had failed to come off, but not him. Yes, it would have been fine for him if the school investigator had already discovered what Mary was hiding – oh, how he enjoyed observing how someone’s life could change in just a few moments - but he had to admit to himself that in many ways he was glad that she had not. The way the cards had fallen, he had been provided with the exquisite show of the discomfort and confusion displayed by Amanda after she had seen him in the garden and returned to her car. Now he could return to the main act, to watch on and wait for the young Amanda to return so she could uncover Mary’s little secret.

  He sighed through a smile, rueful at the thought that the fun for the night was most likely over. He withdrew his trusty Nokia 3210, a piece of technology he still marvelled at, from the inside pocket of his raincoat and found his dear friend Samuel Packard in the phonebook. He chuckled as he imagined what the impatient fellow would say when he heard that the plan had not worked and that he would have to wait another day, at least, for his endeavour to move forward. Perhaps there was a little fun left in the day after all.

  ***

  Settling into one of his favourite pieces by Schubert, Adam felt himself drifting back to another time. As always, the piece - like a select number of others from the same period - brought up memories that were far more painful than he liked to admit to himself. In a way, this was one of the reasons why the piece was dear to him and why he so often returned to it; it meant that he had not forgotten; that perhaps he might not forget, even if his life continued on for another few hundred years. As the piece faded away, Adam also found himself beginning to move on from the day.

  The room gradually came back into view. Had he been asleep? The sound of the needle repeatedly travelling over the innermost groove of his record helped him return to a state of wakefulness; he needed to return the record to its sleeve. As he eased himself from his armchair, he found he had the memory that another noise had roused him from his dozing, that of someone knocking on his door; he was not sure if it was quite real. Still more than a little drowsy, he opened the door to find Brenden frozen in a position of indecision, with his half-clenched fist hanging in the air between his chest and the door.

  “Brenden,” croaked Adam, “is it not a little late?”

  “Sorry,” replied Brenden as he dropped his arm to his side and his chin to his chest. “I just wanted to ask about something, if that’s okay.”

  “Of course, come in, come in,” said Adam as he moved over to attend to the still rotating turntable. “What is it that brings you to my office so late?”

  “Is it too late? It’s only nine thirty.”

  “Ah, really? I think I must have lost track of the time. But if there’s still a little evening left, then I’m glad. Even when someone believes they may have many days to come, it is important to recognise the importance and pleasure of possessing the passing day.”

  Adam grunted to himself. “Forgive me, Brenden, I must have dozed off and I’m not sure I’ve quite woken up. What is that you wanted to ask me about?”

  “It’s about the tunnels.”

  “What about them?”

  “I don’t know, I guess. It’s just that you’ve talked about them a bit, but I’m still not sure, you know. I mean, what are they really like?”

  Adam paused for a moment, the image of Ms Halford appearing in his mind’s eye.

  “As much as I’d like to inform you about the ins and outs of the place, I think it would be misleading of me to do so. You see, as much as I have my concerns about the living world out there, my retreat has been here in this school for many decades now. Few have been down into the Tunnels - and when I say down, I mean that they have truly lived there - and returned. It’s just not how things have been done, mainly due to the difficulty of the decision and its consequences.

  “I’ve heard that quite a number fear
that even a brief journey back up here may draw them to stay, even though they know this world will only reject them once more. They also worry about the problem that if they come back, they have no place to live, no money to start life anew. The property they had when alive would have been passed on long before and the school always insists that it cannot help those who return: it just about manages to support those who reside here as it is. Then, there are the other poor souls who never venture out again owing to what the unfortunate circumstances of their demise has done to them. You may have seen a few such poor souls in your time here.”

  “Then what can I do?” replied Brenden with a hint of desperation in his voice.

  “This might seem strange a strange suggestion, but there is one person who I think will give you more informed and honest answers about the Tunnels than anyone else I know: Ms Halford.”

  “But she told me it would be better for me see the world out there. And, I don’t know if…”

  “I know,” said Adam as softly as he could, “but just ask her. If you do, and you still have more questions, come back to me again and, I assure you, I will do everything I can to help you. I think, though, she might just surprise you.”

  ***

  It was already eleven o’clock in the morning and up to that point, Amanda had achieved nothing. It was unusual for her to procrastinate, but she was unsure when to return to Mary’s and she had also wasted more time than she was happy about running over the unsatisfying conversation she had had with the deputy the night before after returning to her hotel. She had thought that the man would have been interested to hear of the events at Mary’s as she believed they suggested that her investigations had finally led to something, even if she was not quite sure what it was. However, his response indicated to her that he was hardly concerned at all about the events at Mary’s as he had greeted most of what she told him with silence, and went on not to comment on the events at all once she was finished. At the end of the call, the deputy just told her to keep him informed. After he had hung up, she realised that she had not even told the man that she had been to see Caroline, nor had she asked any of the questions she had wanted to put to the deputy about Mary, such as whether it was possible that someone could be persecuting Mary or if there could be any reasonable explanation for the woman’s strange behaviour in being so adamant in not allowing Amanda to see her bathroom.

  The low murmur of a vacuum cleaner down the hall distracted Amanda from her thoughts of what to do next and she automatically slipped off the crumpled mess of sheets of her bed to check if she had locked the door. After finally putting on her jeans and jacket, she decided this time she would call ahead to Mary.

  “Hello, Mary? It’s Amanda. You said that I could come around today to talk about what you mentioned in your call?”

  “You’re quite persistent, I’ll give you that.”

  “Well, okay.” Replied Amanda, who instantly got the feeling that Mary was going to either attempt to prevent another visit or clam up completely. “Is it okay if I come around? I just thought I’d call to check if you were in.”

  “I am, but it’s not a good time at the moment. I’m still dealing with that mess from yesterday. After you left I managed to get rid of the glass, but there’s still the window and I’ve other things to attend to as well. I’m not sure, perhaps it would be better…”

  “How about I come around this evening. I suppose it won’t take long, will it? Or you could tell me now, over the phone.”

  “Now? Well, maybe not over the phone.”

  “Well, this evening then, at seven. I’ll see you later. Sorry, I have to run.”

  As she ended the call, Amanda heard Mary attempt to mutter another ‘but’. A pang of guilt rose up within her, especially as her curt treatment of Mary reminded her a little of the way she had been treated by the deputy only the night before, and the way Mary had treated her when they had first met. However, she was keenly aware that if she had let Mary continue to talk, the woman would have done her best to postpone the visit. Indeed, Mary would probably have done the same thing again the next time Amanda called. It was better just to get the thing over with as soon as she could.

  A brief glance out at the car park revealed to Amanda that the day outside was notably more miserable than the day before. Nevertheless, she was going to go out as the idea of spending most of the rest of the day cooped up in her room did not appeal to her at all. For a moment, a number of different possible options for what to do flittered through her mind: one quickly stood out. She gathered together the case files she had scattered over the room, threw her raincoat on over her leather jacket and headed for the door.

  ***

  It did not take long for Amanda to reach her destination, partly because she already knew the way from travelling to Mary’s house. She discovered that Caroline’s description of the site had been right; almost the only thing she came across after driving down Old East Lane were a cluster of farm buildings, the place of Milch’s attack. She parked her Clio in front of the entranceway to the now remodelled red brick farm building, which she could see just over the property’s newly installed farm gate, and stepped out into a drizzly grey day.

  While she had been able to get a broad idea of the area from the map on her phone, she had wanted to see if what she suspected was true with her own eyes. As she stared across the open flat fields before her, near the horizon on the other side, she could just make out the end of Balfour Lane through the sheets of drifting rain. It might have meant nothing; the proximity of the site of Milch’s attack to Mary’s home may have just been a coincidence. Milch had long been in the area and had cast no aspersions against Mary at all, he had even been a guest in Mary’s home on several occasions. Nevertheless, Amanda also saw no reason to completely ignore the fact that both Brenden and Johann had been killed so close to that particular field.

  There was also a good reason why Milch would not necessarily see Mary in any way connected to his attack: it clearly could not have been her who perpetrated it as his attacker had been a man. Furthermore, he was more than convinced that his murder had been committed by someone who had escaped from the Tunnels, a conviction he seemed to have absorbed into his personality to such an extent that to even doubt that this was the case would offend the man.

  Amanda was so taken with her line of thought that she even wondered if Mary’s piece of information, which the woman was so hesitant to pass on, somehow related to Milch’s attack and Brenden’s. This would even explain why the woman had let Milch into her home when she generally seemed to be opposed to visitors: according to Milch, Mary had even sought him out. Maybe she wanted to pass something on but had never mustered up the courage to actually do it.

  From what Amanda had experienced the night before, she could now see that Mary’s hesitancy was potentially justified. If it were the case that the shadow she had seen in Mary’s garden belonged to Milch’s killer, or someone working on his behalf, then it was no wonder that the woman considered it too risky to talk over the phone. Perhaps whoever was involved in the killings was not just keeping an eye on the woman, but had spoken to her about what terrible things he would do if she were to give him up. Could this have even been the reason why Mary was so reluctant to allow Amanda into the back room? Could she have feared that Amanda would see the man in the yard? Amanda just hoped, for the sake of future possible victims, that Mary could overcome her fear to tell her what she knew.

  As she continued to stare across the fields, Amanda noticed that a car had turned into Balfour Lane, given away by its lights which were struggling to penetrate the foul weather. Though she was not sure, it seemed as if the driver brought the car right to the edge of the field before coming to a halt. On a clearer day, perhaps she could have seen more, but the rain only intensified, making it difficult for her to make out much at all.

  ***

  “Now, what is all this,” said Packard as he pushed past Mary to get out of the rain. “Calling me out of the blue
and demanding that I come over, this won’t do Mary.”

  “It’s that school investigator!” replied Mary, who quickly closed her front door, straightened her dress, then lit another cigarette. “You told me to call her, and that’s just what I did. But now she’s coming this evening to discuss what it’s all about. What can I say?”

  “Well, this is a little bit of a pickle,” replied Packard in a good-humoured tone, his disgruntled mood seemingly fading away after listening to Mary’s words.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I’m afraid to say that things just aren’t ready yet.”

  “Not ready? But she’s coming tonight. What will I tell her?”

  “This wasn’t part of the plan at all,” answered Packard, who examined the extent to which the wallpaper in the hall was peeling away from the walls. “I said I would be in touch, to tell you the next stage of the plan. Things just are not ready yet. And as much as I trust you, I can’t tell you anything more, otherwise, you might get into more trouble than you are now. Oh, Mary, why did you go and organise a meeting with her?”

  “Me? I did no such thing. She just invited herself over last night, then the window broke, and in confusion that followed, she waltzed right in without permission. I managed to get rid of her, but then she called again today and just said she was coming to get the information!”

  “Slow down, Mary, slow down. You’re not making much sense. What’s all this about a window? No, don’t tell me, I don’t want to know. When she comes tonight, just fob her off with some excuse, tell her you’re not ready. I don’t know.”

  “Come on, Mr Packard. I did everything you said in the letter you left me: I called her, told her that I had something important to tell her, and this has led her right back to my door. Please, just tell me what to do.”