Forever Dark Page 2

  The dorm room is pretty much full now and it seems I definitely don’t have anyone on the top bunk. I thought last night may have been just a fluke, but I think I’ve got lucky. The last thing I want is someone above me squeaking and snoring during the night; the noise of a hundred or so unsupervised boys in their early teens is loud and disorientating enough. I’m still not used to it.

  Something hits the back of my head. I turn around quickly and see Blonde by the door. He shouts, “we made that for you!” and quickly leaves the dorm, slamming the door behind him.

  The dorm is suddenly silent, and around twenty boys are now staring at me from their bunks. For the second time today I’ve had a whole bunch of people stare at me. I look down at the object, it appears to be a wet, balled up pair of socks. They’ve soaked it in piss. Great. I can feel something dripping down the back of my head, and instinctively touch it. It’s not piss. It’s gooey. I dry heave. Disgusting bastards. I’m going to have to have another shower now. One of the kids staring at me asks what it is. I’m not sure what would gain me more ridicule; the truth or making something up. I go for the latter.

  “They’ve pissed on some socks,” I say, whilst wiping the very un-piss like gunk out of my hair with some tissue.

  “Funny looking piss,” the boy says.

  “Don’t you know the difference between piss and jizz?” another boy shouts out behind the first. I lower my head. Here we go.

  “Bet he’s not even got hair down there!” yet another one shouts.

  “I bet you haven’t got any either.” Someone else shouts.

  “I bloody have!” The third one shouts back.

  “I don’t have to prove anything. I ...”

  He’s interrupted by another boy who’s decided that what this conversation needs is someone running up and down the dorm without trousers, randomly stopping, flapping his junk around, and then running up and down some more.

  Everyone laughs at the absurdity of it, including me. And just like that, they’ve completely forgotten I exist.

  5

  Is that cracking coming from my spine?

  It turns out that Joe’s a funny bugger. We have a few classes together and I’ve tried my best to talk to him at break times or whenever we’re walking between classes, but he’s holding his ground. He replies with one-word answers and often just walks away. When he does talk it’s always about people he apparently knows or friends I’ve never seen him with.

  “See him over there?” he says and points at a ginger kid across the quad. “That’s James, he’s one of my best mates. Says he’ll open a restaurant when he’s out of here and wants me to help him run it.”

  “Can you cook?” I ask, knowing that throwing him a question could easily end the conversation.

  “No, but I could easily learn.”

  “Anything else you want to do?” I’m pushing it now.

  “Maybe go into the military. But as an officer. James says he may do that too.” Joe then turns around and walks away without another word.

  I’ve been here for three weeks now, I know that’s not really a lot of time, but not once have I ever seen Joe talk to James. It’s the same for almost everyone he claims to know. He’ll point at someone in a crowd, tell me their apparent back story and how in the future, together, they’re somehow going to be in business together or be the next big thing. As far as I can tell, I’m the only one who actually talks to him and that’s only because I’m being really fucking persistent. But trying to wear him down is wearing me down. As much as I want to believe that he has all of these best friends, he spends almost all of his time by himself.

  Slowly, as much as I want and need a friend, I realise that Joe will probably never be one. I’m sure he’ll point me out to others and claim I’m one of the people he’s going to make it big with one day, but I need someone who will actually have my back if I get cornered by Blonde and his prick friends.

  I don’t think Joe will ever have my back; it doesn’t seem to be in his nature. He’s a loner; I’m pretty sure he just makes stuff up on a whim and I simply don’t trust him. But, so far, in this awful place, he’s all I have.

  He also can’t get you anything. Nothing at all. He said he’d placed my order with his contact and then, a few days later when I asked what was happening, he comes up with the excuse that his book contact has to lay low for a while. So, I asked him for copy of an old film and he said that was fine. After a few days, when I asked about that and he said that his film contact had disappeared in unusual circumstances, I gave up.

  I spend the next couple of weeks watching my back and staying in crowded groups, knowing the minute I let my guard down I’ll be pounced on. Since the balled-up sock incident, I’ve only seen Blonde and his two minions from afar and they weren’t even looking in my direction. I don’t have any classes with them because they’re all older than me and, thankfully, they’re in a different dorm.

  It’s been such a long time without any contact from them, I’m beginning to think that they may have forgotten about me. Maybe I can finally start dropping my guard. That would be a huge relief. At all the other schools I’ve been to I was a completely average student. Across the board C’s; never higher but never lower. But here, everything has been turning to shit. I’m falling well behind with my studies because I can’t concentrate and have been threatened with being dropped into the remedial classes because of my appalling test scores. What makes everything even worse is that my parents have made no attempt to contact me. I’d almost grudgingly apologise to them just to hear their voices, to not feel quite so alone.

  My head is elsewhere while walking through one of the many corridors of the main building. Someone grabs my shoulder and I jump. I turn around expecting something horrible to happen but am suddenly very relieved when I see Mister Jelvus standing there.

  “Hey John, how’re you settling in?” he asks.

  “Yeah, great,” I say, still slightly shocked.

  “I know that look. I’m sorry. Not settling in as well as you hoped and still angry that you’ve been left here. It’s a tricky situation alright. Maybe something new and interesting will help? I was wondering if you wanted to take an after-school alternative history class?”

  “Extra classes? Thanks, but …”

  “It’s alternative in name only. I have a large collection of books from before … its death,” he says and raises his eyebrows twice.

  I look at him wide eyed. My parents had once told me about how they believed history had been re-worked after the V-war. A war that according to the United Governments didn’t actually happen. The conspiracy nuts that my parents hung around with kept trying to spread the rumour that the United Government had shut down what it believed to be the source of all evil: the Internet. As far as I was concerned, the Internet was just a myth; a stupid myth with a sillier name. Grudgingly, I had to acknowledge that there may be something to it, as it isn’t a safe topic of conversation.

  “What are you doing?” I ask quietly.

  “Because of your parents, I thought you’d be interested in the truth. In what really happened back then,” he replies in a similarly hushed tone.

  “I am, but if you’re found out …”

  “I’m careful who I choose.”

  “That’s not possible. How can you tell?”

  “It’s my job to get background information on every parent who decides to dump their children here. Some of that information goes back to the United Governments, some of it doesn’t.”

  “But there’s no database. You can’t just look people up. More than four computers linked together is against the law,” I say.

  “I work for the United Governments, John. I have special privileges.”

  “I guess. But just because you have info on the parents, it doesn’t mean the kids will have the same ideas. I certainly don’t.”

  “I know. But you are interested?”

  “I guess I am. When and where?”

  “Tonight, twenty-t
wo hundred hours, in my classroom. Keep it to yourself.”

  “I will. See you there.”

  He looks up and down the corridor, then passes me a book. I look at the picture on the cover. It’s of an old wooden boat filled with smiling cartoon animals.

  “Noah and the flood?” I ask, confused.

  “It gets interesting after page thirteen.”

  6

  My last class of the day is biology and it takes forever for it to finish. Finally, around twenty-one hundred, the teacher, Miss Brown, looks at her watch and just stops mid-sentence. She then tells everyone to go. I guess she must like the sound of her own voice because the class went on for half an hour longer than it should have, and my brain feels like it’s gone numb. I head in the direction of the dorm. All I want to do is lie down but the book Mister Jelvus gave me earlier is burning a hole in my bag.

  The dorm is full and loud when I get in. There are no more classes today, and I guess no one really wants to do anything extra as it’s late.

  Sitting on my bed, I pull out my biology text book, and slide Noah and the flood inside so any casual observer thinks I’m doing homework.

  Opening it, I flick to page thirteen. Assuming there’ll be some sort of hidden text, or something that isn’t part of the book past this page. I’m suddenly very confused. Page thirteen is just the ark being filled with animals. The book is short, so I carefully flick through every page looking for something out of place or something cryptic. But the garish cartoon animals are still smiling, and everyone looks happy as the world comes to an end with a flood. What the fuck is this? I’m suddenly worried that the apparent truth may be the ramblings of a madman.

  I decide to go to Mister Jelvus’s extra class anyway, as I’ve got nothing better to do, and my numb brain has been re-awakened with questions. I leave the dorm and head out into the fresh evening air. Joe is standing outside and beckons me over.

  “You goin’ to Jelvus’s evening class, John?” he asks.

  “I guess so.”

  “Me too. I’ll walk with you.”

  This is a turn up. We walk the path through the long thicket of trees and head toward the main building. Now that Joe’s made a point of actually paying attention to me, I have no idea what to say. Maybe I’ve finally worn him down, just as I was giving up on him.

  “So,” he says, “your parents are some sort of freedom fighter hippy types like mine then?”

  “How do you know that?” I ask.

  “Educated guess. Jelvus only bothers with so-called free thinkers. Or who he thinks could potentially be.”

  “To be honest, Joe, since my parents left me here, I couldn’t care less about their free-thinking bollocks. It’s pointless and stupid,” I say, quoting something Joe has said a lot, but he ignores it and carries on.

  “But you’ve been exposed to a different way of life, John. We all have. I think he means to exploit that.”

  “Really? I’m only going because I’m bored. I have no intention of being exploited. In what way is he trying to exploit us?” I ask.

  “I dunno. He hasn’t got to what he claims will be the good bit yet. He started the class about a month ago. So far, he’s been treading very carefully. Only hinting about this alternative history of his.”

  “Sounds dull,” I say.

  “It is. Nothin’ else to do though. Here we are.”

  Joe knocks on the door, it opens up a crack and Mister Jelvus sticks his head through.

  “Did anyone see you come here?” he asks.

  “Don’t think so. Didn’t know I was supposed to be lookin’,” Joe replies.

  “I just don’t want the wrong type of people knowing what goes on in here, come in quickly.”

  Joe and I shuffle through the door. Mister Jelvus has a quick look down the corridor then slams it shut.

  There are five other pupils in here. Two boys and three girls. All different ages. I haven’t seen any of them before. I sit somewhere in the middle and as usual try to be inconspicuous. Joe then sits beside me, which is a nice feeling.

  “Hello everyone, today we learn about how the world almost ended but was reborn in the worst way possible. Today we’re going to talk about President Calluna,” Mister Jelvus says, while slowly walking to his desk. He then looks directly at me. “John. What do you know about president Calluna?”

  I look around the class, startled and annoyed that I’ve been singled out again.

  “That he died long before I was born,” I say.

  “I’d like a little more detail than that, John. What have you heard about him?”

  “That he brought the world together in peace and harmony,” I say, remembering the tag line that accompanies every billboard and poster.

  “That is correct, John. Now, do you know how he did this?”

  “No. It’s all a bit vague to be honest. My father said he was probably a dictator who re-wrote history. But no one will ever really know,” I say.

  “Have you ever heard of Africa? Or the Middle East?” he asks.

  “No. Should I have?”

  “It would be unlikely. They’re what the wastelands used to be called.”

  “But they’ve always been the wastelands,” I say.

  “Have they? This is why you’re here. To learn the...”

  There’s a knock and the door opens.

  “Matthew, I need five minutes of you time please,” Miss Clarke says and steps in.

  Mister Jelvus’s cheeks suddenly go red and he looks quite flustered, but manages to pull it together quickly.

  “Class dismissed,” he says, walks over to where Miss Clarke is standing and holds the door open. We all shuffle out into the corridor and I decide to head out to the quad. It’s a cold night, but there are no clouds so I decide to sit on one of the benches in the middle and stare up at the stars, satellites, planes, spaceships, and possibly Mars. To my complete surprise, Joe sits next to me again.

  “What y’up to?” he asks.

  “Just looking.”

  “At anything in particular?”

  “Mars. I should think my parents are there by now.”

  “Miss ‘em?”

  “No.”

  “What’s you reckon to Jelvus’s class then?”

  “I don’t know, Joe. It seems like nonsense to me. Anfriker? The middle yeast? My parents questioned everything; they would have had some sort of conspiracy about the wastelands. They never even mentioned them. Look, I just want to keep my head down and do just enough to get by,” I say.

  “Got you intrigued though, eh?”

  “A little bit I guess.”

  Joe moves a little closer to me on the bench.

  “I think we’re kindred spirits you know,” he says.

  Considering until today it was only short sharp conversations with him, I now don’t really know what to say.

  “I suppose,” I manage.

  Joe stares unnervingly into my eyes.

  “What other alternative things are you interested in, John? We’ve just had alternative history, how about...”

  Joe moves in for a kiss. His lips touch mine and, for a second, I don’t stop him, I almost close my eyes and go with it. I then pull away.

  “I’m sorry, Joe. I’m not that way inclined.”

  “Nor am I,” he says defensively.

  I’m suddenly feeling really awkward and want to change the subject. To anything. I look across the quad towards the main building and see two silhouetted figures moving around, the odd flash near the main entrance.

  “Who do you think they are?” I ask Joe.

  “Probably campus security. Probably telling someone off for swearing. Or maybe caught someone out after curfew.”

  “When’s curfew?”

  “Twenty-three hundred.”

  I look at my watch. It’s now twenty-three fifteen.

  A piercing torch light shines in our direction and I cover my eyes.

  “Shit. We’re still out too,” I say. I look around to see Joe�
�s reaction to the situation but he’s slipped away. I see the torch start wobbling and realise the security guards are running towards me. I decide that the best course of action is to run too.

  I can hear them shouting in my direction as I run through the thicket of trees. I turn my head to see if they’re gaining on me. One looks quite large and, so far, they haven’t made much ground. The trees begin to thin out and I can see my dorm. Joe’s waiting at the door. He looks at me. I don’t know what he’s going to do. It looks as if he’s going to shut me out. As I get closer, he starts to close the door. The complete bastard. But as I get to within ten feet of the building, he swings it open to let me in then closes and locks it behind me.

  The dorm room is dark, with only the light of pads shining on people’s faces here and there. Joe runs in the direction of his bunk and I head to mine. I can hear the guards rattling at the door with their keys. I quickly undress, get under the blankets and pretend to be asleep. The blackness of my closed lids turns red as the guards turn the main lights on.

  I open my eyes, then rub them to feign being woken up. Two guards are standing at the door.

  “Which one of you was out kissing another lad after curfew? Dirty perverts,” the fat guard says and waits. When no reply comes, he then says, “until someone tells me, no one is getting any sleep.”

  The (slightly) thinner guard flicks the lights on and off a couple of times. Fat guard then pulls out his shock stick and walks to the far end of the dorm. Thin guard does the same but at my end. Thin guard looks down at me.

  “Did you see anyone, boy?” he asks, while waving his glowing shock stick unnervingly close to my face.