The School of the Undead

by Michael Woods

  “Give me a minute,” said Packard.

  Mary made to say something, but Packard held up his finger to reinforce his point. With a measured step, he walked up and down Mary’s hall leaving flecks of mud on the brown carpet. Mary watched on in silence, flittering internally between her anxiety over getting into trouble with the school – her supplier of blood; her fears about whether the school was already keeping a closer eye on her home – something that had been on her mind ever since the breaking of her window just after Amanda arrived the night before; and her concerns that Packard would think of nothing, before abandoning her to deal with Amanda on her own.

  After muttering something under his breath, Packard determined that it was necessary for him to get out of what he thought to be the absent gaze of the woman standing idly by and burst into Mary’s front room. The first thing to catch his attention as he dropped himself down on a couch was the cream Bakelite phone that was sitting on a rather worn telephone table in the corner of the room.

  “What time did you say she’s coming round?”

  “Sorry?” said Mary, appearing with a confused expression at the door.

  “The girl! When’s she getting here?”

  “Seven, I think. What’s this about? Have you got an idea?”

  “Yes, I’ve got something. But I have to tell you that it’s not a foolproof plan and you’re going to have to play your part. Nevertheless, it might just work and provide us with enough of a reprieve for me to organise things so that we can achieve our main objective.”

  “You mean to get her out of the town?”

  “To get that invasive and interfering school out of affairs here in Radcliff, yes.”

  “Oh, you smart man. Thank you! What do you need me to do?”

  “Now, don’t get too excited. I’m quite sure that young Amanda will not be distracted by this plan for long. Indeed, it may only give us a day. But that’s better than nothing. You said she’s coming at seven? Well, what we’ll do is this: after she arrives, invite her in and make her think that you’re going to tell her what she wants to hear. Then, just after seven, I’ll give you a call. You’ll excuse yourself and answer. I’ll tell you that you have to come over for one reason or another right away. After the call, you can excuse yourself and say something along the lines of how sorry you are, but that there just isn’t the time to go into what you want to tell her, that you have to leave that instant. That'll be the tricky part for you, convincing her that this is the truth.”

  “But why would I need to leave right away.”

  “Don’t concern yourself with that now. There’s still quite a few hours left before she comes and I’ll think of something. It’ll make the thing all the more real as well if I tell you when I call. Yes, I believe that’s for the best.”

  “Oh thank you, I don’t know what I would’ve done if you had not come.”

  “Don’t thank me yet, it’s all still to be done. Ah yes, one wrinkle. It may be the case that the investigator may turn up late. Or worse, she may turn up just as I ring and hear the phone. I think the best thing would be if you were to remain here, near the phone, just in case.”

  “Oh, you really think of everything.”

  ***

  As always, the slow moving Arnold was the last member of Ms Halford’s class to leave, something caused by the dawdling pace he had been left with ever since he had become a zombie. Ms Halford did not mind the time the man took at all, if anything she admired his determination to not give in and continue on with his day despite being lumbered with a maximum speed of a steady creeping step. She also knew that the man was proud and, to an extent, unwilling to admit what had happened to him. Indeed, this was so much so that he would not give even a moment’s thought to the idea of using a mobility scooter like a number of the other zombies in the school.

  As she watched Arnold approaching the exit, Ms Halford noticed that Brenden was standing just to the side of the door. She waited for a short while, expecting the boy to move on, but as Arnold continued to inch towards the door, Brenden remained where he was. Ever since the boy had returned to the school, she had refrained from seeing him more than was necessary. This was mainly because she was still affected by the guilt and the weight of responsibility she felt for leading Brenden to run away. She was not worried about having to face up to any ill feeling the boy might feel towards her due to what had passed; instead she was concerned that she would direct Brenden in the wrong direction once more, either by his listening to her poorly chosen words or by him doing the exact opposite of whatever she happened to say.

  She told herself that she was being a coward, that she was being a terrible teacher by not facing up to her responsibilities or the consequences of her own actions: was she still such a child? While she did hesitate a moment longer, she railed against herself for doing so and promptly walked over to where the boy was still standing, passing Arnold on the way.

  “Brenden,” said Ms Halford “are you waiting to see me?”

  The boy’s first response to the sudden appearance of the ghost before him was to take a couple of steps back and mumble a number of excuses about how he was sorry to disturb the teacher. He then made to leave, but as he did so, Ms Halford swept past him to attempt to stop him from going any further.

  “Brenden, if you want to tell me something, I’d be more than happy to hear what it is. No use putting it off, especially if it can be attended to right this moment.”

  Brenden backed up towards the entrance of Ms Halford’s classroom, from which the figure of Arnold gradually began to emerge.

  “I’m not sure, Miss. Maybe I should just come back later or something.”

  “Now, young Brenden, it’s quite clear to me that there is a topic of some sort or other that you want to address with me, and I for one would rather that we deal with it now. I assume that if it were the case that this topic could not be tackled at this moment, you would not be here. So, let’s just move things along, shall we, and dispense with having to go through this same dance later today or tomorrow.”

  By darting his eyes first at Arnold and then to the floor, Brenden made it clear to Ms Halford that whatever he wished to talk to her about, he wanted to do so in private.

  “Well then,” noted Ms Halford after interpreting Brenden’s actions as suggesting that perhaps he would talk if Arnold were not in earshot, “why don’t we get to it then. Let’s just give Arnold a moment and then we’ll see if we can’t sort out whatever this is.”

  Though the best part of Brenden was now telling him to just try and deliver himself from the present situation in any way he could, his deficit of willpower meant he found it next to impossible to counteract the authority of Ms Halford’s words. Indeed, instead of making his own opinions known - or just walking away - he simply remained on the spot, his gaze directed at the floor, waiting to be told what to do next.

  “Mssss ‘alfoorrd,” groaned Arnold as he finally cleared the entrance to the classroom.

  “Good day to you, Arnold,” responded the teacher, before promptly making her way past the zombie to return into the room. “Come on, Brenden.”

  With no hesitation, the boy followed the command of the teacher and then mutely followed her further directions to close the classroom door and take a seat. Ms Halford gave the boy a little time to take the initiative to start the conversation now they were in the privacy of the room, but it was soon apparent that whatever topic Brenden wanted to discuss, she would have to help him to draw it out.

  “Are you getting settled back into things, Brenden?”

  “I guess so,” the boy replied in a barely audible voice.

  “Good, good.”

  A few moments after resting his head in his hands and staring off into nothing, Brenden breathed in sharply as if to suggest that he was about to say something. However, the boy checked himself before uttering a single word, leaving Ms Halford to start to lose a little patience with the student.

  “Look, Brenden, you can cont
inue to put off talking about whatever happens to be on your mind for as long as you wish, but you have to understand that I cannot say your words for you. If I were you, I would just get on with whatever it is you want to discuss.”

  “It’s just…” started Brenden before stopping himself.

  “Go on.”

  “It’s just that I went to Adam,” the boy said a little hesitantly. “I went to ask him about the Tunnels, about what they’re like. But he said that it was not right for him to talk about them and that I should talk to someone with real experience of the place. He then said that I should come and talk with you.”

  “Oh Brenden,” responded Ms Halford, who immediately felt guilty for still suspecting that the boy wanted to take the opportunity to blame her for what had happened when he ran away.

  “I’m sorry, Ms, I knew I shouldn’t have come here,” said Brenden, who interpreted the response of the teacher as confirmation of his impression that Adam’s suggested visit to Ms Halford was a mistake. “You’ve already told me that you think it’s best to return to the world out there rather than to go down to the Tunnels. I’m sorry that I disturbed you.”

  Brenden shot up out of his seat and, with his gaze firmly fixed on the ground, made to leave at a brisk pace.

  “Brenden, stop. Wait just a moment.”

  Despite the boy’s prior prompt following of the teacher’s previous directions, this time Brenden ignored the teacher’s command and quickly exited the room. He managed to march halfway down the corridor, overtaking the slowly moving Arnold on the way, before Ms Halford burst through the wall to catch up with the boy.

  “Brenden!” said Ms Halford firmly. “This is no way for a young man to conduct himself. You haven’t even asked a question of me yet, let alone waited to hear what I might have to say about the issue.”

  Sheepishly, Brenden tried to make some further excuses, but Ms Halford firmly rejected them and insisted that they return to her classroom to continue the conversation.

  “Now,” announced the teacher, after getting Brenden to sit back down behind one of her class’s desks, “where were we? You mentioned something about Adam suggesting that you should come and talk to me?”

  “Yes, Miss,” responded Brenden meekly.

  “And that it was something to do with the Tunnels?”

  “Yes, Miss.”

  “So, now that we’re back here in the classroom, and as you have my full attention Brenden, what is it that you wanted to ask?”

  “Well,” said Brenden hesitantly, “it’s just that, I don’t know, what’s it like down there?”

  Ms Halford was pleased, something which surprised her. She never thought that she would be happy about a student asking about the Tunnels; something which most probably meant that they were seriously considering entering the underground world for the undead. She also recognised that now that Brenden had finally broken his silence on what he wanted to ask, it was no longer necessary to take a firm hand with the boy.

  “Ah, Brenden, what can I tell you? It’s been such a long time since I was down there.”

  The boy greeted this statement with a look of mild resignation and slumped down ever so slightly in his seat.

  “But, do you remember what I told you just before? When we were in the common room? That we aim here at the school to pass on our experiences as best we can. So I endeavour to do just that.”

  To compose herself a little and to collect her thoughts together, Ms Halford wandered from where she was standing in front of Brenden over to her desk, which she usually considered to be a most useless object for a ghost such as herself. “It must have been around 80 years ago when I first went down there. For reasons I won’t go into, I came to a point when I believed it would be best for me to retire from the world out there. You see, things are a little different for a spirit; we have no need to feed, no hunger that requires us to find the means to support ourselves. However, there are other things that can drive one away.

  “It must have only been a month or so, that I was down there, but it was more than enough. They say that things have changed for the better. Since the last great war, technology for such hidden places has moved on to ensure that even the living can attempt to survive in something apparently close to comfort. However, I fear that some things will still be the same. You see, it was not the dank and the dark, nor the horror of potentially finding oneself in ancient, lost and forgotten regions of tunnels; it was not even the loss of the natural light of the sun. No, the thing that drove me away and led me to go through the difficult process of returning was something I myself did not have to suffer, not directly. It was the horror of having to witness the terrible hunger of those time-worn individuals; the zombies and vampires such as yourself. Though, truly, it only comes in phases, when it reaches its peak, that wretched consuming need is a horror beyond all description. It was much more than I could bear.”

  “Is there no blood down there?” asked Brenden, taken aback by the teacher’s description of the subterranean world Adam seemed so keen for people to enter.

  “Surely Adam has already covered this matter? It’s not the case that there is no blood, but for most this might as well be so. This is also the case for all poor creatures who must consume something to avoid losing themselves for a time. This is one of the main reasons for the Tunnels. You see, how can I say, the collection and storing of blood - and bodily organs - in a fashion that is not only morally acceptable but which ensures that such things can be kept in a state useful for dead is only a relatively recent development. Previously, if one wanted to avoid having to hide among the living and suffer the existence of what was tantamount to being a monster, it was often necessary to remove oneself to such a place, as barbaric as it was, as the Tunnels.

  “But even now, even though we have the ability to acquire and store blood for the vampire community, we never have enough. In a way, those who descend down into the Tunnels are making a sacrifice for others, so they can continue on up here. Of course, some who enter the Tunnels hold out the hope that those who remain among the living will be able to improve things for everyone in the future; but I see it as a vain hope.

  “This insufficient supply of blood for individuals, such as yourself, is also the reason why almost no vampires return; it is the reason why if you chose to make your way into the Tunnels, Brenden, I doubt you will ever return, not unless things change. You see, while it is theoretically possible to come back, before the committee that oversees the Tunnels would allow such a thing, you would have to prove that you had the means to pay for the blood you would need to live out in the world. As there is no method to earn down there, this makes such a thing near impossible. Indeed, no vampire has left the Tunnels since I first arrived here at the school. Few others have either, I am one of a handful.”

  A silence fell between the two, as for a time both were lost in thought. Ms Halford found herself revisiting a time she never wished to have to suffer again, while Brenden considered what life he could have if he were to stay. A question began to form on the boy’s lips, but whatever it was, Ms Halford never got to hear it. The break between lessons was over and without warning, a couple of students from Ms Halford’s next class burst into the room. Still distracted by her experiences from many years before, the teacher did not notice as the boy got up out of his seat. When she looked up, he had already gone.

  ***

  The brass clock that sat atop the living room mantelpiece had been edging ever closer to seven for the best part of an eternity, or so it seemed to Mary. Though she had kept on telling herself to stop looking at the time – as she knew that her watching of the slow movement of the hands only drew things out further – she could not help but take one glance after another, each time with her promising that it would be the last. During the hour or so in which she had caught herself in this repetitive cycle of making promises and then breaking them, she had stood almost exclusively next to her telephone table while either smoking a cigarette or biting down on
her nicotine stained fingers. She told herself that she needed to be prepared, just in case Packard called early, Amanda turned up before 7, or if she needed to deal with the problem of someone else calling, even though she had hardly received a phone call in years.

  Though Mary moaned to herself once in a while about the difficulty of the whole situation – as well as Packard and the school investigator for landing her in such a position – the distraction brought about by Packard’s plan, and the role she had to play in it, also provided a certain amount of relief for her; relief from the troubling questions that emerged whenever there was nothing else to occupy her; questions about who had been attacking her home; questions for which she had no answers. As the clock came to display the time as 6.54 pm, these very questions formed again within Mary’s mind and so she set about again to drive them from her consciousness.

  “Oh, why can’t this whole thing just be over and done with,” she said to no one. “Have I not other things to do?”

  Mary frowned deeply at the clock and then dropped herself down on the leather seat of the telephone table while folding her arms.

  “This just won’t do, I’m just not sure I can go through with all this. It’s too much!”

  Mary considered whether she should just phone Packard and tell him that she could not do what his plan required of her. She even wondered if there was still time to leave the house or even just hide away when the school inspector arrived.

  “If the bell rings,” Mary mumbled to herself, “then so be it. That woman can just keep on ringing till hell freezes over.”

  The bell rang. Mary froze. She told herself she was not ready. While she had been waiting for this event for almost an hour, she had not thought of what she would say. She remained seated and glanced at the clock one more time: the hour hand was creeping up to seven. Soon Packard would phone and she told herself that as it was possible that she might not have answered the door by that point, the plan could fall through. Still, she did not react.