The Headmaster

Repercussions

The smell of smoke lingered, they opened all the windows and doors to allow it to dissipate. Maria stomped around, reconfiguring the tables and chairs with a face like thunder. She was mumbling under her breath. No one dared to make a sound. Once satisfied with the layout she stood by the door and announced that she was calling a night on the investigation.

Becca watched her disappear and offered a mocking salute to her back. She snatched up her camera and made in the direction of her temporary camp.

"I would wait a bit longer if I was you," Alan warned.

"Yeah, she isn't your biggest fan and I think if anyone was to get the brunt of her rage it would most likely be you," Graeme said as kindly as he could. He was fiddling with his camera and not looking at anyone.

They waited in the safety of the hall for twenty minutes before shutting all the windows and locking the doors. En-mass they traipsed through the corridors as quietly as they could and settled down in the comfort of the office.

"I say we camp together, I don't know what happened in there, but I think it's going to kick off big time," Tim said as loud as he dared as not to disturb Maria in the adjacent room. He caught Becca's uncomfortable glance in Alan's direction. His mind divided as to what to do. "Safety before comfort."

Becca laid on her back looking at the dark ceiling, uncomfortable and on edge, she knew her companions most likely felt the same. The absence of Kev eased her mind, without him in attendance there was less likely to be any shenanigans from Tim. Outside the wind suddenly died down.

A child screamed from the farthest corner of the building.

They all sat bolt upright on their beds. Becca reached for her camera and hit record. A second scream echoed through the corridors, familiar and too strong for a spirit voice. They could hear the doors opening. Hurried footsteps and sobs of pure terror.

The doorknob to their classroom rattled, followed by two heavy thuds on the old wooden door. Tim jumped up and ran to the door and tried to pull it open but it wouldn't budge. There was a dark laugh that reverberated around the room unnaturally. The door unstuck itself, sending Maria and Tim tumbling to the ground.

Maria struggled to her feet; cheeks hot with embarrassment and wet from tears. "It threw me out of bed." She stuttered.

The door slammed shut.

Maria helped Tim up from the ground. They pulled two of the most stable looking chairs beside Alan's bed and sat down. The energy had started to dissipate. "What do we do?"

"We stay," Becca said before anyone else had a chance to answer. "We stay because if we leave it wins, and it will do worse next time."

"You heard what happened to the last guy didn't you?" Maria snapped. "He had a serious head injury, and it took over two weeks for him to shake off the spiritual attachment. Is that what you want to happen to me?"

"I don't think that will happen." she said but failed to add the last part of her thought 'to you'. "It has used up a lot of its energy, it's gone past 3 am so it will be waning now." She lied. In her experience spirits didn't follow a set schedule unless they were a residual haunting.

No one wanted to go back out into the hall to collect Maria's sleeping bag or mattress. Graeme volunteered his bed and Mike offered up his sleeping bag so that she could be more comfortable.

Sleep came easily to the exhausted crew. The wind had built up just enough to sing a lullaby over the chimney pots. Becca had slipped into a lucid dream, hyper-realistic down to the sounds of her sleeping companions. The door opened slowly, the rusty hinge squealing in protest, to reveal a translucent floating sphere. It hovered there at child height for a moment before moving back into the darkness of the corridor.

Becca sat up in her bed, swung her legs over the edge and prepared to give chase. Something in her gut stirred, offering a cautionary note which she chose to ignore. Graeme grunted in his sleep. She jumped aside, taking the time to check he was still sleeping, before continuing on her quest.

The ball of pale light had waited for her. As soon as she crossed the threshold of the door it began to move off once more. Bobbing up and down as it worked its way towards the old storeroom at the end of the hall. The door opened silently to reveal a small room.

Becca could smell the musty air before she reached it, damp, decay and stale water lingered in her nose. She pulled the neck of her shirt up to her face to shield her nose from the pungent smell. The room was a mess. Cobwebbed shelves full of cleaning products filled the back wall, the floor was caked in at least a decade's worth of grime, and the toilet cubicle was missing its door. Above her head the ball of light circled an old smashed light bulb, it cast just enough light for her to notice the tarnished brass of a door handle to her left.

Her gut kicked in again. She looked back at the open door and contemplated heading back to bed. Above her the orb started circling faster, the shadows it created moved so fast it disorientated her. She clutched the door handle for support. It opened. She fought to regain her balance, she could just pick up the steepness of the staircase in the feeble light of the, now stationary, orb.

As her foot hovered above the topmost step the light vanished. She cursed loudly. Her breath caught in her throat, the air rising up from the basement was warm. Welcoming. Feeling the steps carefully with her feet she descended the stairs as fast as she dared. The floor was compacted dirt, it muted her footsteps as she walked blindly through the cavernous space. Something tapped her on the forehead. A cord struck her shoulder twice before she snatched at it and the room was filled with a flickering glow. Shirking away from the brightness of the light, and concerned at the possibility of the bulb exploding.

Her back collided with something hard and cold. She closed her eyes. When she opened them she let out a sigh of relief. She had found the old boiler room. A large oil-fuelled boiler filled most of the subterranean room, her back had bumped into a defunct cylindrical tank. The presence of light filled her with enough confidence to explore the room further. There was a worn path stretching up the spine of the building, the pipes above her head branching off to meet the large cast iron radiators in the original classrooms. Waste pipes snaked down from the boy's and girl's toilets.

Above her head, she could hear the girls crying again. Their voices too muffled by the floorboards and patchy insulation that hung down in clumps like giant spider egg sacs. The space was flooded with an acrid stench that made her gag. Old mop and stagnant water. She shielded her nose but the thin layer of fabric did little to relieve the stomach-churning odour.

Thoughts of escape filled every fibre of her being, she ran full pelt back towards the staircase. She skidded to a halt as she reached the boiler. She was no longer alone. Her heart hammered in her chest, the pressure in her ears made her feel like she could pass out at any moment. As the light illuminated his face she recognised his features. It was Alan. Her breathing evened out, and while she would have preferred one of the others to come and find her, the familiarity put her at ease.

"You've been a naughty girl." Alan smiled as he said it, his eyes fixed on Becca's pale face. He licked his lips at the hint of tears in her eyes. "Wandering off were you ought not to messing, trespassing, you will be punished."

"Oh knock it off Alan," Becca walked up to him and gave him a shove, "don't be such an ass." He didn't move. She pulled her hands back.

"I punish all the naughty girls." He traced a cold finger down the side of her face, hooking it under her chin and forcing her to look at him. "I am the Headmaster."

His breath was rancid, it brought tears to her eyes as she struggled away from his groping hands. The smell of filth clung to him. Her mind ran through all the pictures she had seen, trying to locate the hideous eyes that were fixed on her like a predator. She knew who he was.

"You're older than I like them sweetie, but beggars can't be choosers here." He grabbed her arm and pulled her closer. His lips brushing her ear as he whispered, "So long since I had a little one, no children left here but them in spirit, they never did find her you know. Little Jade Maundy. She's mine forever now."

Becca shook her self out of his grasp. She wiped his saliva from her ear and stood defiantly out of reach under the flickering bulb. "You're nothing." She spat, "You were the caretaker, the puke cleaning, toilet scrubber. I'm not scared of you. You have no power over me!"