The Berserker

Wilson and Marcus sat outside the main entrance of the school with tears falling uncontrollably. There were other students stood in groups of three or four, each crying or just hugging one another, but all joined in the shock that a teacher and the janitor had been murdered.

Aimee-Lou had her arms around Lana’s neck and they were talking quietly to each other, both had tear stains on their cheeks. Their breath was pluming from their mouths in the freezing air and Wilson tapped Marcus on the shoulder, nodding toward the girls as he began walking across the icy grass toward them. He rubbed his sister on the back as he reached her and she turned to see who it was, bursting into tears when she saw his face.

“Oh, Wils,” she said, as she sobbed into his chest, “It was Mr Owen.”

“I know Aims,” he said back, as he continued to caress her.

“It was murder Wils, with an axe they said.”

Wilson pulled her away by the shoulders and looked her in her tearful eyes.

“I don’t want to hear that from you Aims,” he warned, “You don’t know that.”

Marcus leant in toward Wilson and whispered so none of the other students could hear.

“Do you think we should get in and look for Clive?” he suggested.

The look of surprise on Wilson’s face mad Marcus take a step back.

“How could I forget about that?” he said to Marcus as he kicked at the floor. He tapped his friend on the arm and flicked his fingers at Aimee-Lou and Lana to follow. “Come on,” he said, “I know a way in.”

Wilson skipped ran around the side of the school, staying as close to the bushes as he could, and jumped the wall that led into the foyer, which had the huge bank of windows that displayed the dining hall. He could see the scenes of crime officers that were gathering the forensics, and he called for the others to duck out of sight so they didn’t raise suspicion.

They crossed the foyer and hid in the doorway that led to the history building, checking all the time that the police were not following them, and Marcus tried the door handle, shaking his head at Wilson when he discovered it was locked.

“There is another way,” Wilson whispered, smiling at Marcus, who immediately caught on to his plan.

The boys made their way along the front of the school, with the girls following, until they reached the windows of Mr Owen’s class. Wilson put his back against the school wall and cupped his hands for Marcus to step into.

“Ready?” Wilson asked.

“Ready,” Marcus agreed.

Wilson heaved Marcus up to the window and held him until his legs began to shake.

“Come on,” Wilson said as his voice strained.

A couple of bangs and a tap on the head gave Wilson the sign that Marcus was done, and he released him to fall to the floor.

“Clear?” Wilson asked.

“Clear,” Marcus said as he stood up and wiped the ice from his knees.

They all looked up to see the window to the classroom had opened enough for a school kids to climb through.

“Come on,” Wilson said to them all as he climbed through the gap.

The scene that met them was not anything that anyone of their age should ever see.

The bodies of Stephen and Bob had been removed from the cupboard, but the remnants of their insides were still covering the floor in thick lumps.

Aimee-Lou put her hand over her mouth as the smell of putrefying meat overcame her, and the gagging reflex tried to force her breakfast from her stomach.

Lana stood looking around at the devastation, unable to stop the tears from falling.

Wilson rubbed her back as he walked past her, his own tears seeping without control from his own eyes.

“Okay, Lana,” he said caringly. “Let’s get Clive and get the frick out of here.”

Marcus had tip-toed through the debris, being careful not to stand in the blood stains, (which was a little like a game of hopscotch) and he stood just inside the cupboard with his hand over his mouth against the odour. He knelt down, without getting his knees on the floor, and he looked in the area that they had watched Mr Owen build a make shift bed for the troll. He held that position for a second and then stood and turned to the others.

“Not there,” he said with a shake of his head.

“Don't be silly,” Wilson said, as he crossed the splatters of blood to stand next to Marcus. “He has to be there.”

He copied his friend and knelt without getting blood on his knees, but stood almost immediately.

“It has to be somewhere,” he said, as he turned to look in the shadows behind the door.

The cupboard was empty of trolls and Wilson placed his hand on his head in desperation. He looked around the floor, turning his head a strange angle as he spotted something on the floor.

“There,” he said, almost a little too loud in his excitement.

The other three looked to where Wilson was pointing, staring blankly at nothing in particular.

“What are we looking at?” Lana asked, puzzled.

Wilson pulled a chair from under the front desks and stood on it.

“Get higher,” he said to them, and watched as they all pulled a chair out.

With the extra height they could all see what Wilson had saw.

The blood stain that came out from the cupboard was patchy compared to the rest, and clearly in the stain was a large footprint, the same as they had seen at the island.

“That’s too big to be Clive,” Lana said, and she was joined by Aimee-Lou in agreement.

Wilson remembered the conversation that he and Marcus had had with Mr Owen.

“They would grow in size the more they ravaged,” he said to Marcus, “Remember?”

Marcus had an enlightened look on his face.

“It would go on until either all the warm bloodied meat had been consumed, or until the elder of the family would order it over,” he finished off.

“We have to find Pete,” Wilson told them all. “He will know what to do.”

They climbed from their chairs and headed to the window, each climbing out with Wilson left on his own. He looked at the devastation that was left in the cupboard and bowed his head slightly.

“Sorry sir,” he said quietly, before he climbed out through the window himself.