13 – The Caretaker

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Anton sprung to his feet. “Then you’re behind everything!”

Chuck laughed. “Yup, I planted one of those little seeds on every single one of you and my trackers followed all of you home.”

“But we have nothing to do with anything!” Daniela screamed.

“And you’d have been perfectly safe if you just ignored what was going on like the rest of the sheep at this school did.”

“What were those horrible creatures?” Freya said.

“I suppose you’d call them private investigators. They infiltrated your lives, found out everything they needed to and passed on what they knew to me.”

“But they’re monsters!” Helen squeaked.

“No more than any of you.”

“We’re not monsters, you are!”

“Oh, really? Did any of you help when these two knuckleheads used my head as a football?” Chuck said, pointing at Hagman and McQueen. He stood and leaned over Helen. “Did you call for help when McQueen twisted my finger so hard it wouldn’t bend for a week, or when Hagman dunked my head so far down the loo I got stuck and nearly drowned? Don’t tell me you’re not monsters because you didn’t do anything. Not doing anything when I needed your help is precisely why every one of you is a monster.”

Hagman and McQueen stood. Their skin rippled, shredded and flared, burning into nothing, leaving two blackened skeletons standing either side of Chuck.

His eyes burned with anger. “You eleven were the only ones to notice anything strange out of the ordinary. Everyone else had the decency to have their memories erased, but not you. You had to remember. And that’s why I think at least one of you knows about the power in this school. Maybe you’re even connected to it. That’s why I started the food fight and had you all held back. That’s why I goaded you into telling us those stories. One of you is lying. One of you is protecting a secret here.”

A slow clap came from the hallway door. When all eyes were on him, the Caretaker coughed politely. “I think you might have been looking in the wrong direction, Chuck. Following children who leave here every day when you sensed power was in the school? That tells me something about the intelligence of you and your friends.”

Chuck, Hagman and McQueen spun around. The Caretaker stepped between the factions of the children, tutting at the spilled soda.

“If I thought there was something powerful in a building, I’d search the building,” he said. “By the by, your parents will be here in ten minutes. Enough time for one more story, I think.” He turned to face Chuck and his skeletal goons. “Chuck likes to talk big about his supernatural buddies, but in reality they’re just scavengers. Think of them as pirates, looting and plundering their way across the sea of time and space and alternative dimensions. You see I serve similar powers, but mine are more established.”

13. The Caretaker’s Story

Back in nineteen forty-five, I was the last survivor in a squadron sent to intercept enemy bombers invading our airspace.

The wretches had caught us from behind, using clouds to ambush us while we searched for them.

The others fought like devils and took down three of the four fighters, who were on an intercept course for a supply train, but when one was hit, it spiralled down to a village below on a collision course with a school at the centre of a small village. The village I grew up in.

I couldn’t let it hit. Not for nostalgia or the friends of my youth, but if children had taken refuge there. My fingers took control before my mind did and dove after the flaming wreck. Seconds before it hit, I managed to slip the nose of my fighter under it and steered it into the nearby woods, ejecting just before we hit ground.

The fireball that erupted signalled our allies to our location and I watched the remaining fight as I floated down with a flaming parachute.

The fall was bad and I broke both my legs, but I was alive and the school was undamaged. The village elders took me to the nearest town and hospital as soon as daylight hit, and even paid for my speedy recovery, but by the time my legs healed, the war was over and I no longer had a job.

The schoolmaster visited me on the day I was discharged and asked me to come meet the children whose lives I’d saved. Back in those days, school wasn’t just a place of education. It was a way of life before you graduated. Or maybe I just remember it differently.

The assembly brought the whole town in and I shook more hands in that one hour than I had in my entire life. When it was over, my old Schoolmaster took me to one side and asked what I was going to do now there was no need for soldiers. I honestly hadn’t thought about it. He told me to come with him.

I never thought I’d walk the halls of my old school again. What surprised me was seeing my schoolmaster still active in the community. He’d always been proud of his role and told me of the school’s history, the rich heritage I didn’t care about as a child and its secrets, secrets I’ve never revealed until now. I didn’t believe them when he told me, not until he opened the Door.

With a wave of his hand, a wall in his office opened, not sliding like stone or wood on a hinge. It peeled back like a budding flower.

We stepped into the SchoolMaster’s home, his ‘Biome’ as he called it, a large bubble suspended in a cloudy sea of peach coloured jelly.

He took me into the middle of the empty chamber and offered me a seat, and before I could ask where, the gelatinous surface shifted, bulging up under me to form a comfortable armchair.

“This is madness,” I said.

The SchoolMaster shook his head. “This, young man, is luxury.”

Another armchair formed opposite and he sat as a round table ballooned into existence between us. Two cups formed on its top and filled themselves with a familiar scented liquid.

“And this is the finest brandy,” he said, taking his.

I took the cup. It was made of that same fleshy substance everything else was, but clear like actual glass.

I shot the brandy down my throat so quick I almost gagged, then placed the glass back in the table. Its flat bottom bubbled and filled with more brandy before solidifying again. I took a second gulp just as fast.

The SchoolMaster put his cup down and indicated I do the same. The cups and table melted in on themselves, sucked into that translucent floor where they dissolved into a cloud of bubbles swept away in some unknown current.

“What is this place?” I said.

“My home,” the SchoolMaster said, “or to be more accurate, me.”

He pointed to a wall and it parted, shifting away like the table had. It opened to another, similar location and I followed him into it. I felt like I was walking down a slimy throat.

“And this could be you,” he said. “You see, I’ve been master of the school for a hundred and seventy years. It’s about time I moved on.”

“Why me? Wait, how long did you say?”

“You cannot understand the depths of gratitude I feel for you. What you see as the school is not some mere mortal building. It is my body.”

“This doesn’t make sense.”

“Humor me a moment. I’m looking to spread my roots into new pastures. Maybe I’ll even become one. The point is, there’s a school here and if it suddenly disappears, people will be upset. You proved that when you saved it.”

“I saved it from becoming nothing but a crater.”

“Which would have hurt me. A lot. Perhaps even killed me. But you saved me. You saved the school and everyone under my protection. Those children will grow up to have futures, thanks to you.”

I took in a deep breath, ignoring how sweet and warm and fresh the air was. “I still don’t know what you’re asking.”

“The building itself can be replaced by another like me. I’m asking you to become another like me to take my place, to become the school. Keep the children safe and give them a future.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Let’s just say for argument’s sake I believe you. I’m no educator. I’m a simple soldier.”

“The teachers take care of the educating, dear boy. Your duty is simply to take care of them.”

“And how much does that pay?”

“On top of your yearly wage? How about an eternity of life, a world of your own that can be anything you can dream of?”

Part of me still thought the old man was a crackpot, and I’m sure he knew it, so he took me back to his Biome, or his body, and waved his hand once more.

This time, it was he who melted. His body and clothes were absorbed into the walls as the entire chamber convulsed. Pillars of flesh rose into its roof, the edges became angular and shapes bulged out from the corners. Then the colours ran, coalescing into features I could understand and within seconds, the world around me had shape-shifted into a luxurious palace complete with curtains and furniture and all the trappings of a house of luxury.

“Well, are you interested in the position?” the SchoolMaster said.

He was reclining on a golden throne, dressed in fine silks and snacking on a silver bowl of Turkish Delights. I looked around. It was a better offer than I’d get anywhere else. Who was I to turn down a job so quick after losing my last one?

I held a hand out to him and said “I’ll do it.”

…

“So,” sneered Chuck, “you’re the one we’ve been after. The one who controls the power of this school.”

He snapped his fingers and the lights flared, and continued to flicker as a the shadow of skull formed behind him. It didn’t cast across the walls , however, instead hovering in midair. Then a light appeared through it. A flame flew out and flickered in the middle of the hall, adding to the strobe effect of the shorting electrics. Behind it, a clown flopped out and rolled to standing position, giggling hysterically. Then out stepped a large dog on its hind legs, a giant, half decayed moth who flapped up to the ceiling, ridden by a small doll. They entered the hall through the portal and blocked the exits while a cackling skeleton followed them out, flicking through a familiar tome. It was flanked by two pale men in well tailored suits, one of medium height and sharp of tooth, the other exceptionally tall without a face. Beyond the skull, several rotting, shambling men fell over each other in a bid to get to the children first, held only a bay by a sickly green, turtle-like being who’s stretched limbs barred their path. The skeleton or Dralbon, the DraftsMan, clamped the book shut and shook Chuck’s hand. He gave the child a vial.

“Drink this, my friend,” The DraftsMan said. “Live forever. You’ve earned it.”

Chuck laughed and downed the vial. Two Dralbon, formally McQueen and Hagman, reached into the skull portal and dragged the real McQueen and Hagman out, shoving their comatose bodies into the gawping bunch of children who cowered in the corner behind the Caretaker.

Chuck finished the vial and bent over with a groan. His skin turned red, then brown and crinkled up. He thrashed and kicked and burned from within, screaming until his throat tore itself apart. His body bubbled, liquidised and contracted in on itself as the monsters around him dropped their disguises to reveal their own skeletal natures. They cheered and applauded as the newest brown leathery skeleton rose from Chuck’s ashes.

“Welcome to the brotherhood of Dralbon,” The DraftsMan said, “athough most people wait until they’re fully grown to drink that.”

The monsters who could, laughed. So did the Caretaker.

The book toting Dralbon turned to face him. “So, Caretaker, we meet at last. You control of the power of this place.”

“Nope,” the Caretaker said.

“Don’t play dumb. We heard you confess.”

“Then maybe you should find where you left your ears and get them cleaned out. I never said I controlled the power of this place. I said I’d take care of the students in it and keep them safe. And if you really did listen, you’ll know I accepted the SchoolMaster’s offer.”

“His offer of power.”

“No. Try to use what’s left of that shrivelled up brain of yours. He wasn’t a person, he was an avatar, a representation of a personality. He literally was the school and I replaced him.”

The DraftsMan scratched his skull. “What does that even mean?”

“It means you should be very wary about where you open that portal of yours.”

The Caretaker snapped his fingers and the shadowy skull screamed and faded away. The stranded monsters bared their fangs and flared, ready to fight. The Caretaker looked back at the children.

“Don’t worry, another minute and your parents will be here.”

The Dralbon shook a finger at him. “Do you think we’d let them leave after seeing us?”

“Do you think you have a choice?” the Caretaker said. He smirked and the lights returned to normal. Around the room, every door and window locked. “Are you starting to understand, little Dralbon?”

The monsters stepped back and looked around. As they bunched together in the center of the room, Helen cried.

“Mister Caretaker, what’s happening?”

“You’ve taken biology, kids. What happens when something bad gets into your body?” the Caretaker said, grinning. “Your body fights back.”

Behind him the walls rippled and convulsed and the floor erupted in frothing foam. The hall lurched and swirled around him. Splinters of wood melted into sharper shapes and the ground grew a tongue. Teeth appeared where wood panels had been and the children watched as the utility room’s doors opened to reveal a long, dark oesophagus. The tongue split into many and the teeth shrank around the creatures, as the whole room, save for a tiny island of safety in which the children stood, collapsed in on itself, sucked into a single point and then, without pausing the flow of matter, twisted back into its original state, completely clear of monsters. And sparklingly clean. The children stood speechless.

“I know what you’re going to say,” the Caretaker said, “why did I make you spend two hours cleaning if I could have just done that?”

Anton shuddered. “That’s not what we were going to ask at all.”

“Well you should, because the moral of all this is if you make a mess, you clean it up.”

“That’s what we’re supposed to learn?”

The Caretaker frowned and rubbed his belly. “Ugh. All those monsters don’t agree with me. I might have to take tomorrow off. Anyone got any Pepto Bismal?”

“Look,” Helen cried, pointing, “on the wall!”

A new carving had appeared in the wood panels, if they could still be called that. It was a mouth with large pointed teeth, barring a familiar looking face.

“I hope he’s getting what he deserves,” Anton said.

“I’m not eating him, if that’s what you mean,” the Caretaker said. “How on earth would I explain that to his dad?”

The wooden teeth parted, spitting out Chuck, who landed on the real McQueen and Hagman, waking them. When the teeth closed, the faint outlines of several monstrous shapes could still be seen trapped behind them, their expressions frozen in terror. Chuck and his former bullies groaned. The Caretaker stood over them with his arms folded.

“I wouldn’t bother trying to explain what happened here tonight. Nobody would believe you for a start.”

Chuck’s body flickered, almost revealing the browned bones beneath. “I’m immortal now,” he said, grabbing the Caretaker’s throat. “I’m a Dralbon. I’m strong. I’m gonna rip you apart.”

The Caretaker crouched beside him and plucked Chuck’s hand away without any effort or acknowledgement. “You’re not strong to me, Chuck. To me you’re just like any other child. But yes, you are immortal.”

The hall doors opened and the parents came in to pick their children up.

“Has he been any trouble?” Chuck’s dad asked.

“A little cheeky,” the Caretaker said, “but I’ll keep my eye on him from now on.”

“Come on, Chuck. We’re leaving. You missed Trick or Treating.”

McQueen and Hagman left with their parents, confused about where they’d been and wondering why everyone was talking about Halloween when it should have been over a week away. They were ignored by their parents, as usual.

When they were gone, the other children said goodbye to the Caretaker, who promised they could finally get some rest.

Trystyn was last to leave. “But what about Chuck?” he said. “How will you keep an eye on him when he leaves here?”

The Caretaker chuckled. “I think the real question is, will he ever? Remember what the DraftsMan said about becoming a Dralbon only after being fully grown? Chuck became one as a child, so he’ll stay a child forever. It looks like I’ll be keeping an eye on our disagreeable little friend for a very, very long time.”

The End