Blind School Read online

‘And you’re sure you’re okay?’

  ‘Yeah. Not even a bruise. Just a bit shaken, that’s all.’

  Silence for a second, then: ‘But I understand from your mom that you’ve been in the wars in other ways.’

  Ryan gave the details of his fake condition exactly as Ellis had laid it out for them: not making too light of it, but not over-worrying either.

  ‘Hemeralopia, you say?’ his father confirmed.

  ‘Yeah.’

  His mother Kate approached in the background at that moment, looking on silently. Thoughtful.

  ‘And it's just an affliction to bright light? It doesn't affect your sight in other ways?’

  ‘No, apparently not. With the right treatment, my sight should stay pretty much twenty-twenty.’

  ‘I see.’

  Ryan looked round at his mother. ‘Look, dad – I'd better go. Mom's here now and I should...’

  ‘Yeah, okay. Okay. Catch you later.’

  They hung up. Kate Lorimer's nerves looked ragged with this new dilemma, her face heavy with concern.

  ‘Are you sure that's what they said? You won't be affected in any other

  way?’ Her eyes darted for a moment, as if not willing to settle on the word. ‘You're... you're not going to go blind?’

  ‘No, mom. I'm not. That's what the treatment's for.’ He touched his sunglasses. ‘... and the glasses.’

  Kate Lorimer nodded thoughtfully. But Ryan could see she still looked unsettled.

  ‘But you can check out the program at this clinic, if you like. Put your mind at ease.’

  Kate shook her head after a moment, forced a tight smile. ‘No, no. It's okay. It sounds like you're in good hands.’

  Mrs Werner was leafing frantically through a medical dictionary, muttering to herself as Jessica looked on.

  ‘Hemeralopia... hemeralopia. Right. Right.’ She stabbed a finger at the page, falling silent for a moment as she read. She looked up at Jessica.

  ‘I think I should call Doctor Morgensen. Get a second opinion.’

  Jessica sighed. ‘That's not necessary, mom. This clinic has got everything under control. And, after all, they are the specialists.’

  Jessica was distracted by a noise from the kitchen. Looking through from the lounge, she got a glimpse of Ben pouring a glass of Coke for himself. She hadn't heard him before. How long had he been there, possibly listening in? Jessica looked back at her mom, smiled tautly.

  ‘And you can go along if you like, get their account first hand. Like they say, with their treatment, I'm not going to go blind or anything.’

  Her mom appeared to sway, but then as she put the medical dictionary back on the side table, her doubts resurged.

  ‘But that's how it starts, doesn't it? They tell you it's one thing one day, then the next...’ Mrs Werner suddenly stopped herself, as if realizing she was about to say too much and let the secret out the bag.

  Jessica looked away uncomfortably, not wanting her mother to guess that she already knew that secret. Her mother gave a pained smile.

  ‘Call me a worrying-for-nothing fool – but I'd still feel a lot more settled if Dr Morgensen took a look at you too. He's been a good family doctor to us.’ Mrs Werner reached to Jessica, gently clutched her hand. ‘Would you do that for me, Jessie?’

  Jessica closed her eyes for a moment, nodded.

  ‘Yes, I’ll do that, mom. Just for you.’

  The front doorbell rang the next morning and Jessica went to answer it.

  Their usual UPS delivery man was standing there with a small parcel.

  ‘Package for Mrs Werner.’ He held out an electronic signing pad. ‘If you could sign there please.’

  ‘Yeah... sure. Thanks.’

  Jessica signed, but as she went to hand the electronic pad back, he was suddenly different – his body transformed to the writhing sea of gargoyle faces on Mentinck's holo-pod the other day.

  Jessica recoiled with a gasp – but he was too quick, he reached out and gripped her. And as she struggled frantically, her arm went clean through the dark slime between those faces.

  Suddenly drawn into that darkness, she found herself writhing through the slimy labyrinth of gargoyle faces and skulls. Beyond the first row, an endless sea of skulls and horrific faces appeared to stretch into the distance. She could feel the slime gelling them sticky against her skin, feel it clogging her throat, taking her breath away.

  Jessica sat up with a jolt, breathless, eyes adjusting in the darkness of her bedroom. And thankfully a soothing voice was there too:

  ‘Don't worry, you're not alone... you're not alone.’

  She looked to one side and it was Ellis Kendell, reaching one hand towards her. She squinted, trying to make sense of it. What was he doing here?

  And as she saw a writhing demon apparition swirling in his body too, this time she woke up for real, gasping heavily.

  She reached for the inhaler on her side table.

  The sun attempted to break through a weak cloud cover as the priest recited to the small gathering by the graveside.

  ‘...Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. In sure and certain hope of the Resurrection into eternal life – we commit to you, Our Lord, our beloved brother, Joseph.’

  The priest made the sign of the cross and stepped back from the graveside with a small nod.

  A tearful Marisa Culverton was first to step forward and throw a handful of earth on the coffin, then John. Finally, Alex.

  But Alex appeared even more disconsolate than his mother or younger brother, tears streaming freely.

  ‘Oh papa... dear papa.’

  The other mourners appeared visibly touched by the display. More handkerchiefs came out amongst the women, whereas the men, less comfortable with open emotional displays, looked down or away.

  Marisa Culverton was one of those to turn quickly away, a coldness in her eyes. She wasn’t fooled for a minute by the crocodile tears.

  Marisa Culverton's expression was stony in the back of the limousine heading away from the funeral. John sat beside her, quizzical.

  ‘What? You think something was suspicious about father's death?’

  Marisa eased a tired sigh. ‘Work it out: One day Alex is pushing like all hell to get Joseph out of the hospital. Next day your father is at home – dead.’

  ‘What... Alex? I know he's got his many bad points, and God knows he and I don't see eye to eye...’

  John’s voice trailed off as he cast an anxious glance back towards Alex in the limousine behind.

  ‘And that air-show incident too,’ Marisa offered. She closed her eyes for a second, not wishing to accept it herself. She took a fresh breath. ‘All I'm saying is keep one eye over your shoulder with Alex. Watch your back.’

  TWELVE

  Professor Mentinck was winding up another holo-pod lecture.

  ‘Finally, notice here the lion-like features combined with horns – not dissimilar to Valefor or Marbas.’

  He pointed, then suddenly used the same hand to reach out and grip the central pole to steady himself as the bus turned a corner.

  The ‘practical lesson’ Ellis Kendell had promised the class the other day: the scan bus.

  The hologram image was similar, but this time projected from the bus roof with a single wide-screen behind. At the other end fifteen students observed as the bus drifted along city streets.

  Darkened glass. Full visibility looking out, none looking in. On one side halfway down the bus was a bank of screens manned by Ellis Kendell and an operator. Ellis pointed to the screens as he took over from Mentinck.

  ‘Okay. The scan-bus will be your on-off home for the next few days. The first view you get of demons will probably be on these screens. So huddle round closer to get a better look.’

  As the students moved in, Ryan and Jessica were only two away from each other; they exchanged tentative smiles.

  ‘The screens pick up thermal images for eight blocks in any direction. And every now and then amongst those, you'll pick up a demo
n apparition. We won't see them.’ Ellis indicated himself and the operator. ‘But if you look closer at these screens, you’ll get an idea of what you might see.’

  The students edged in, and at first as the bus sped along they could only make out a blur of vague shapes. But as the bus stopped at a set of traffic lights, the images became clearer: grey-green cross-sections of people milling on streets and in shops or restaurants.

  ‘Most of those will be mid-level demons or those already under watch. But once in a while we'll pick up the golden prize of a high-level demon. The main reason we're all doing this.’

  Ellis stared the message home, then put the zoom control on a couple of screens. They sped rapid-frame through the city blocks, finally coming to rest on a small group of people. No demons visible among them, but Ellis knew he’d planted the seed in the pupils’ minds of how they’d be viewed.

  ‘So each day you'll split up as you go 'demon tracking'. Fifteen pupils in the bus, five each in three vans. All with the same scan capabilities, but without the holo - pod rostrum.’

  Three days later Ellis sat at the end of the control room by a bank of screens listening to what he’d just said on tape.

  On one screen he had the scan bus, while on another he viewed three vans as they swept out of the Blind School compound.

  Ellis preferred doing it this way. He knew that the first few days induction for new arrivals to Blind School were the most vital, yet he couldn’t be with them all the time. So he’d stay with them that first day on the holo-bus, then monitor the rest of their progress over those days on a series of screens.

  ‘And as soon as you pick up an apparition on screen, we move in...’

  Ellis looked at one of the top screens with two pupils picking out an apparition on screen. The operator zoomed through five city blocks, then locked in: a middle-aged woman coming out of a department store.

  The bus raced through the streets to catch up, the on-screen image becoming progressively closer until the pupils were looking at the same woman straight across the street from them – the action now caught on camera on three screens that Ellis surveyed: one with the woman live, another her thermal image, the final camera on the pupils inside the bus.

  The combination of his voice on tape and the visual track-back ensured that all the key points were covered. Anything missed or that came up unexpectedly during the three-day induction he could then cover in later lectures.

  Ellis looked through a series of video loops where the pupils had picked up apparitions and the scan bus moved in: a middle-aged man putting out trash by his house, a parked cab driver, a college girl jogging. Only low or mid-level fallen angels. Nothing too worrying so far.

  ‘And finally when you're viewing them live, you describe what you see to our sketch artist.’

  Ellis’s gaze shifted to two screens to his right showing a portrait-artist agent sketching a man through a diner window as pupils alongside gave descriptions.

  ‘Then Professor Mentinck will explain what you've actually seen...’

  On a bottom screen, Mentinck was pointing to another hologram image as the bus cruised through the city streets. Ellis turned up the sound for the video loop:

  ‘Notice here serpentine features, as we saw before with Andromalius and Balam. Though the shape of its tail and its scaling suggest more a lesser-ranked fallen angel – Jeherak.’

  Ellis switched his attention to another screen showing a lab technician working on a computer schematic while four Blind School pupils and the sketch artist guided him. He faded out Mentinck’s voice and brought back his own:

  ‘...And if there isn't already a match in the database to what you've seen, then one will be made.’

  The pupils huddled round the computer finally seemed satisfied with what they’d seen on screen. The technician tapped his keyboard and sat back. The pupils all looked expectantly towards the holo-pod to one side as an image burst to life.

  The pupils walked round the fresh hologram with hesitant awe. A tousled-haired boy of fifteen nodded at the technician.

  ‘Yeah. That's what we saw last night.’

  The other reason Ellis liked doing it this way was that it condensed the process – tracking, initial viewing, sketching, final identification – leant more urgency to their activity. The sense that they were actually getting somewhere rather than the cold, hard truth: a rag-tag bunch of kids up against an army of thousand-year-old battle-hardened demons who outnumbered them fifty to one.

  Ellis was about to switch back to his continuing summary when he was disturbed by some movement from behind. He looked round to see Josh Eskovitz approaching.

  ‘Sorry to trouble you, Ellis. But we got a local boy gone missing now too: three days with no contact back to his family.’

  Ellis swivelled round fully from the bank of screens. ‘What age?

  ‘Thirteen, and dark-haired.’ Josh shrugged. ‘I know it doesn't fit the M.O of the blonde girls gone missing – but I thought you should know nevertheless.’

  Ellis was lost in thought for a moment. ‘Yeah, you're right. Probably unconnected. But thanks anyway, and if you–’

  But Ellis suddenly jolted as he was hit with something else: a flashback image of the man staring towards his son in front of his school the other day. He got up, took out his cell phone.

  ‘What is it?’ Josh pressed.

  ‘I should have trusted my initial instinct.’ Ellis hit memory dial. ‘I just hope I’m not too late.’

  Carla had just grabbed her car keys and was halfway out the door as she took the call.

  ‘Yeah. I'm heading there just now.’ She shut the door behind her and pressed her key-button to open her car. ‘Why? What's wrong?’

  ‘Just make sure you get there on time, and don't let Santos out of your sight. Wait there for me to show – and when I do, don't acknowledge me or get involved in what might happen.’

  ‘Oh... okay.’ She got in the car, fired up. ‘But tell me a bit more, Ellis. What’s–’

  She was talking to a dead line. Ellis had hung up.

  Ellis looked sharply at Josh Eskovitz. ‘Which unit we got closest to Thomas Edison school?’

  ‘Uh... probably Unit Two. They were covering the south side today.’

  ‘Okay. Raise them and tell them to meet me in front of the school. Pronto.’

  The agent in Unit Two was in the middle of a lesson when he took the call from Josh Eskovitz. He consulted his sat-nav as they sped through city traffic.

  ‘Yeah... yeah. We'll take the next turn-off and cut across. Should be there in under ten.’ He signed off and nodded at his driver. ‘Yeah. This one.’

  The driver swung into the turn and, the second he straightened out, he put his foot down.

  Within a hundred yards, they were touching sixty, the pupils in the back of the van looking concerned at the sudden turn of events, amongst them Ryan and Jessica.

  Brian Lee Marston observed the kids as they exited the school.

  A noisy, confusing throng, his gaze was at first loose, aimless. But as he spotted Santos Kendell and Timmy amongst the crowd flooding out the school gates, his gaze fixed on them.

  They headed towards Carla Kendell’s Chevy Impala. He was watching them so intently that the black van with tinted windows pulling in across the street hardly caused a blip in his concentration amongst the hectic activity of other parents picking up their kids.

  Only as Ellis Kendell's car swept in and Ellis headed with purpose towards the black van did a tick of consternation cross Marston's face.

  Ellis slid open the side door of the van and nodded towards Marston.

  ‘That guy forty yards along... in a grey wind-breaker looking our way.’ Ellis waited for the pupils to pick out Marston. ‘Any of you see a demon apparition in him?’

  They looked quizzical, but spent a moment dutifully studying Marston. Ryan was the first to answer.

  ‘No. I don't see anything.’

  A brunette girl at the front echoed: ‘Me nei
ther.’

  As Ellis's eyes darted anxiously between them, Jessica and another teen mumbled: ‘No. Nothing’.

  Ellis slid the door shut and headed towards Marston.

  Marston looked hesitantly over his shoulder as Ellis approached, as if hoping Ellis was heading to someone else, or perhaps checking out escape routes.

  Ellis paced determinedly the last ten yards, faced-off in front of him.

  ‘What the hell are you doing watching my son?’

  ‘What? Your son? I... I wasn't. I...’

  Ellis grabbed him by the lapels. ‘Don't fucking give me that. I saw you staring at him when I was here the other day, and you're doing the same now!’

  ‘It's not your son I'm looking at – it's mine,’ Marston stumbled. ‘Timmy. It... it's the only chance I get to see him.’

  Ellis searched Marston’s eyes for the lie, but all he could see was sincerity; now tinged with fear that he might be believed. Ellis eased his grip.

  ‘Oh... I see.’

  ‘I can't go near the house, and I'm not meant to meet with him either. Restraining order, you see.’ Marston attempted a weak smile. ‘So I wait for him to walk home – then I go the other way and we meet up round the corner for coffee. Otherwise I'd never see him.’

  Ellis nodded, closing his eyes for a second in penance.

  ‘I understand. I'm sorry.’

  He patted Marston's shoulder in consolation as he turned away – all those eyes still on him: his wife, his son and Timmy, the Blind School pupils.

  He knew he'd stepped over the line, starting to see demons at every turn: his own paranoia suddenly reflected in those stares aimed at him.

  THIRTEEN

  Bruno Tieschen and Alex Culverton agreed on Tieschen’s downtown cigar club for their meeting. Rich rosewood panelling sectioned off each private ‘smoking chamber’, and both the wood and the overstuffed leather armchairs were redolent with the smell of best Havana, despite the club’s powerful air-conditioning sucking the smoke from the rooms.