by David Jester
“Lesbian,” Eddie said.
Darren shook his head, “I thought you said—”
Eddie turned sharply towards him. “She was a fucking dyke, alright? She ain’t into men. ’Nuff said.”
Darren held up his hands and kept them there, until Eddie slouched back into his seat and turned his head back towards the front, his eyes still on the pretty girl with the Persian skin.
An awkward silence fell over them, interrupted by the sound of Darren clearing his throat and then saying, “She probably just doesn’t like gingers.”
The brunette got off before they did, leaving hastily without looking towards the back of the bus where Eddie’s glare was waiting for her. They got off on the stop after her, the final stop the bus made. They clambered onto a smaller bus that looked like it had seen better days. It was rusted, full of graffiti, and impregnated with a musty smell. The seats were stained and ripped; two sets of them were missing all together, leaving small holes in the floor through to the tarmac below. They were the only people who got on, the driver, a man whose belly struggled to stay behind the wheel and whose eyebrows met in the middle, watched them suspiciously before the doors closed with a loud, reluctant creak and the bus began its journey, hobbling along the road with the comfort and guile of a one-legged ostrich.
After passing the remnants of a dilapidated council estate, the bus hit a series of bumpy country roads—poorly maintained, pockmarked tarmac that led a thin and winding stretch through fields thick with overgrown grass, trees, and the occasional solitary horse, their noses stuck through a fence watching despondently as the bus rolled past.
“Where the fuck are you taking us?” Darren wanted to know, his attention on Eddie.
“I told you, it’s in the middle of nowhere. That’s how they keep it so secret.” He gave Darren an enigmatic smile.
“You just want to get us alone in the woods so you can rape us.”
“Fuck you, Daz.”
They remained the only ones on the bus, watched in the rearview mirror by the fat, greasy bus driver who rarely carted anyone along this route. It was a strip of nowhere between two shit-hole towns. His regular customers were single mothers, carrying their screaming babies from town to town, and decrepit old people who never spoke or smiled and took forever to do everything.
He was suspicious of them. The ginger one looked insane, like he was high on drugs; the black one looked alert, ready for something; the other one seemed to be half asleep. They were up to something, he knew that, but ultimately he didn’t care, as long as they didn’t do it on his bus.
10
A cold wind cut through the wild grass, stirring waves in the fading yellow stalks. The three teenagers watched their loose coats and baggy pants blowing like parachutes behind them.
Eddie was grinning madly, Malcolm looked concerned, Darren was slowly shaking his head.
“Well, fuck me sideways,” Darren said into the wind. “This is literally the middle of nowhere.”
“I told you,” Eddie announced, as if it was something to be proud of.
In the distance, beyond the grass and weeds, past the mown fields where a handful of cows—lifting their heads curiously to stare at the specks in the distance—calmly grazed, there was a wall of trees. They could see glimmers of light in the gaps between the trees, but most of it was thick and looked impenetrable from this distance, even the cows didn’t seem to want to venture inside.
“I don’t see a huge building,” Malcolm said, taking the words out of Darren’s mouth.
“It’s through the trees,” Eddie said, before adding, “I think.”
“You think?” Darren said, turning his head sharply towards his friend. “You think? You’ve gotta be shitting me.” He turned towards Malcolm, “Where did we find this idiot?”
“It’s there, trust me.”
“I told you,” Darren said with a wry smile. “I. Don’t. Trust. Gingers.”
Eddie lowered his head, furrowed his brow, “You wanna watch your fucking mouth—”
“Come on,” Malcolm cut in, stepping between them, sensing another bitch-fight that would end with Eddie furious and Darren hysterical. They had been friends for a long time and had been at each other’s throats since day one; he had seen it all and heard it all before. Eddie may have been quieter when they first met, but he always gave as much as he got where Darren was concerned. It had been fun in the beginning, Malcolm would even join in, but it became tedious and he didn’t like taking sides. Each one was as bad as the other. “Let’s go.”
They hopped over a small fence that separated the fields from the road. The grass was overgrown on both sides of the fence, it already enveloped the small, run-down bus shelter and had begun growing through the cracks of the road.
The grass came up to their shins, thin wispy blades that begged for sustenance and seemed to be growing out of dry and undernourished soil. There were several clumps of flattened grass where the debris of human life had been tossed in; rusted wheel-less bicycles, shopping trolleys, bags of waste.
“Is that a fucking mattress?” Darren said, stopping. It was layered with various stains and had been worn by use and the environment; the springs were exposed around the edges, pointing their rusted edges menacingly towards the cold day. “Who dumps a fucking mattress in a field?” he asked, looking around at the vast emptiness as if to emphasize his point.
“Beats me,” Malcolm said.
“They fucking carried it in this far as well,” he noted, turning back to see that they had already travelled several feet from the roadside before stumbling on it. “Why not just dump it over the fence?”
“People are weird,” Eddie said.
“I think it was your uncle,” Darren said quickly, receiving an equally quick glare from his friend who had been expecting such a retort, was always expecting such a retort. “I think this is where he brings his girlfriends after treating them to some leftover, dumpster McDonald’s and some homemade hooch from his filthy fucking bathtub.”
Eddie didn’t say anything but Darren could see a vein throbbing on his temple; it usually took a lot more than that to anger him. He smiled and continued. “I think—”
Eddie cut in, his words spoken through gritted teeth. “—I think you wanna shut your fucking mouth before I wipe that smile off your little fucking face.”
Both Darren and Malcolm turned towards Eddie in surprise, sensing the venom in his words. “For fuck’s sake Eddie,” Malcolm said, rapping his friend roughly on the back. “He’s just kidding.”
Eddie seemed to soften at Malcolm’s words, “I’m sick of his shit though,” he said, the venom no longer there. “He’s always at it.”
“He’s just kidding.”
“Yeah,” Darren agreed. “No need to go fucking psycho on me.”
“I’m fed up of you taking the piss out of me all the time,” Eddie said to his friend. “I’m only—”
Darren interjected quickly, “No need to go all fucking Hallmark on me either,” he said. “Grow a pair of balls and shut the fuck up.”
Eddie opened his mouth, let it hang open and then shut it again. Something glimmered behind his eyes but he shook it off. “Come on then,” he said, glancing at the mattress and then back to the field. “We need to keep going.”
They stopped again when they reached the cows. They expected them to move, to filter away like pigeons as they approached, but the cows didn’t shift an inch and didn’t seem at all perturbed by the three cautiously advancing teenagers.
They stopped in front of one and maneuvered around it. Malcolm was the first to approach. As the others watched, he put his hand calmly on the cow’s face, gently rubbed its forehead and its nose, spoke softly to it. It didn’t seem affected either way and merely continued to munch grass as Malcolm stroked it.
“Look,” Darren said softy. “It’s the fucking cow whisperer.”
Malcolm ignored him and continued stroking the cow. Eddie advanced to his side with a cheeky look in
his eye. “You think we should push it over?”
“What?” Malcolm said.
“Topple him over,” Eddie said gleefully. “Cow-pushing.”
“Cow-pushing?”
“Yeah, it’s a thing ain’t it? You push them over and they can’t get back up. Hilarious.”
Eddie rested his hands on the cow’s side and received a worried glance from the animal out of the corner of its eye. Malcolm watched in bemusement, his mouth hanging ajar. Just as Eddie looked like he was about to put some effort into his push, he stopped him.
“Leave him alone.”
Eddie stepped back and relaxed his hands. “Why?”
“Because I fucking said so, that’s why.”
“But—”
“But, if you don’t remove your hands I’ll break them off, alright?”
Eddie began to object but quickly retreated.
“Yeah,” Darren said, previously reluctant, but now happy to step in front of any strange animal if it meant a chance to mock Eddie. “Poor fucker doesn’t want some ginger dickhead trying to push him over.” He stood beside Malcolm but kept his hands firmly in his pockets as he looked the cow over, tilting his head this way and that as the cow returned his curious stare.
“So,” Darren said after a while, his hands still in his pockets. “This is where Big Macs come from then?”
Malcolm gave his friend a disapproving stare, “Really?”
Darren shrugged. He turned to Eddie who was standing a few yards away, looking sheepish. “Is this why your uncle comes out here, to care for the animals? I know he’s been with a few fat cows in his time but—”
“Shut it,” Malcolm said, shoving his friend and stepping away from the cow.
He looked towards the trees, they could see through them now. What had appeared as a deep forest was nothing more than a few trees deep. They were close together, separated by a muddy forest floor with a small stream flowing through it, but Malcolm could see a field on the other side and beyond that, on the tip of the horizon, he saw what looked to be the top of a large building.
“Is that it?” he asked.
Eddie rumbled up to his side and looked through the gap in the trees at the chimney poking up in the distance. He could see thick plumes of gray smoke spiraling outward. “Must be,” he said with an assured nod, thankful that they were on the right track.
“All right.” Malcolm moved forward, giving the apathetic animal one last glance, “let’s get a move on.”
11
The building rose out of the horizon, an ominous stony mirage. It was spectacular, an imposing edifice of intricate red brick that blocked out the afternoon sun and spilled an oily shadow onto the ground. It was three stories tall, with arched gothic windows on all stories, like bleak and generic gravestones. It stretched across the landscape, swallowing vast swathes of the surrounding green field.
A graveled path spiraled around the neatly manicured lawn with numerous flower beds, vegetables patches, and benches overlooking the open nothingness. The grounds were split and further down, past the lawns and flowers, the boys could see a tall chain-link fence with another garden within.
A few feet from the building a picket fence, scarred by weather and blackened by time, formed a neat border around the imposing structure, tall flowers grew behind it, clawing at the building and climbing as high as the third floor. It looked more like a prison than they had imagined, more like a building designed to punish than to help, and its sheer size could cater for a vast volume of prisoners.
“It certainly doesn’t look like a place that rich celebs will pay a fortune for,” Darren pointed out.
The others nodded.
“It might be better inside,” Malcolm said.
“I would fucking hope so.” Darren agreed. “What about that?”
Malcolm didn’t need to follow his eyes to see what his friend was looking at; he already knew. The chain-link fence was easily seven- or eight-feet high. He hadn’t been in prison, but he knew that the chain-link fence, set deep within the garden and surrounding the property, was designed to keep people from getting out.
“I have no idea.”
They approached cautiously, felt the chill of the wind as it continued to cut through the surrounding fields. They scanned the windows, expecting to see people peering back at them and preparing to act accordingly, to play nonchalant or to hide, but there was no one there, or at least no one they could see. Darren thought he saw the curtains flutter in a window on the second floor, but it was gone before his eyes could establish it as anything more than a trick of light.
He felt a sense of dread creep through him and tried to reason with his mind. It gave him goose bumps, lifted an uneasy feeling on the surface of his skin, and penetrated every fiber of his being. He wrapped his arms instinctively around himself and pretended to brace against the cold (sighing the mandatory sigh of a shivering man) just in case anyone was watching. The others weren’t watching him, they were too interested in scanning the building, in checking the windows as he had done, but something told him that someone was watching and, whoever that someone was, he thought it was wise not to let his fear show.
Eddie was the liveliest of the three, the one whose footsteps strode further ahead than the others, the one who looked upon the building with an almost joyful gaiety. This was a big deal to him. This was his choice, his job. Not only could he share the spoils, which promised to be big, but he could take the credit and gain the respect that he deserved. He was eager and desperate for this.
Malcolm kept his eyes on the windows, checking each of them in turn. As they walked closer—the building looming larger, the gardens close enough to smell—he felt the same unease as Darren felt, only for different reasons. There was no one in the windows, no one in the gardens. The image of a rehab center like this was of patients in dressing gowns smoking cigarettes, looking forlornly out of windows or wandering aimlessly around the garden, their trudging slipper-clad feet kicking the dew from the grass as they scowled and filled their lungs with tar, wishing for something just a little bit stronger. But there were no walkers in the garden, no forlorn watchmen in the windows. It was desolate, yet deep down Malcolm knew it wasn’t a deserted or empty building. It had a certain life to it, not only was it clearly well maintained, but it oozed with recent activity. He hadn’t seen it at first, but now they were closer he could see cups on a picnic bench that looked out over the garden. There were three cups in total and beside them, on the ground, someone had dropped a jacket; the stark white material glared at Malcolm.
Something didn’t feel right, something wasn’t right, but Eddie felt differently. While Malcolm and Darren held back, staggering their approach to further study and deliberate, Eddie raced up to the side of the building. He placed his hands to his head and then pressed himself against one of the windows.
The others watched and waited, slowing to a near halt, as Eddie studied the insides of the building. He could see the entrance from where he stared, the main doors were just around the corner, and the reception desk. He could also see a security point, a small enclosure in the corner with a few banks of monitors. A man in a blue uniform sat behind them, looking disinterestedly at the screens that Eddie couldn’t see. The man looked like he was asleep.
Eddie saw a security camera near the front door, but he also saw that the front door was unguarded and likely unlocked, no doubt to allow the patients to come and go as they saw fit, he thought, so they could enjoy their expensive rehabilitation with as much freedom as they wanted.
He peeled away from the window and turned towards his two friends who had warily approached and were peering over his shoulder. They both pulled back when they saw his face.
“It’s perfect!” he said.
Malcolm tried to hush his friend but Eddie shook it off. “The guard is fast asleep,” he said. “He doesn’t give a shit. Probably sick of looking after rich fuckers all day, probably never gets any action up here. Who the fuck would want to break
in here?”
Darren raised his eyebrows.
“Well, yes, us,” Eddie said with a nod and a glance back towards the window. “Coz we’re smart.” He paused, waited for Darren to jump in and then frowned when he didn’t. He didn’t register the unease on his friend’s face, the way he had wrapped his arms tightly around his torso. “And I think tonight is the night.”
“What?” Malcolm said.
“I don’t know what’s going on here,” Eddie explained, “but no one is here and the guard is asleep. If he can afford to fall asleep, he must know that no one, not even the receptionist, is due back anytime soon to wake him up and give him a kick in the balls.”
Malcolm wasn’t keen on the idea of rushing into it, but he couldn’t argue with Eddie’s reasoning. “Still,” he said with a gentle shake of his head. “It’s too soon.”
Eddie disagreed, shaking his head vigorously. “Look!” he gesticulated, pointing towards the window, watching and waiting as Malcolm peered inside. “There’s no security, nothing stopping us from going in and taking what we want under the cover of darkness. With a few tools, we can get in through one of these windows. Hell, we can probably walk right through the front door.”
Malcolm pulled back, examined the window. It was probably older than he was. It wouldn’t take much effort to get it open.
Eddie seemed to get more exited as he thought he was winning his friend over. Darren remained at the back of the three, keeping his distance, staring upwards at the building. He thought he saw something moving again, another flicker in one of the top floor windows. This time it lingered and left more of an impression that it might have been human, then the curtain stilled. He felt the same chill run through his body and wrapped his arms tighter around himself.
“Come on,” Eddie pleaded. “What do you say?”
“I say you’re fucking crazy.” Malcolm offered.
“Here, here,” Darren voiced from the back, a little less enthusiastically as he would have liked.
