Crowam 281 (24 page)

The rays were so bright you could see the dust float and dance amid the light. The room seemed unoccupied. I entered the room. The room was pristine, as if it had been uninhabited for some time. I had a chance to survey the room before I felt the sensation of cold steel pressed again the back of my head.

I turned, with Mr. Hugo pointing the gun directly at me. “Put your hands up,” he said. His expression was tranquil, but behind his phlegmatic demeanor was buried a seed of volatility that could escalate the situation very quickly. “You don’t cease to amaze me, Mr. Hudson.”

“It’s over Mr. Hugo.”

“Over?”

“Yes. Why don’t you look out the window and see for yourself.”

“I’m sorry to see that you think my work is over. But it has just begun.”

“How’s that?”

“There is something else that I have taken away from all of you and that is your innocence. Instead, I have replaced it with contempt and cynicism you will carry with you into the world. That is how I will continue my legacy. You will one day pursue your own inhibitions based on what I have given you. You will aspire to achieve great power, by freeing yourself and enslaving others. That is the way the world should be run, by only a select few controlling the stakes. People are stupid vile creatures, animals that need to be controlled. That is where someone like me comes in.”

“I suppose you know what’s best for the rest of us?”

“Why, somebody must set standards for how life should be lived, a life which is to service those who are more powerful than they are.”

“To be a slave?”

“Slave is a strong world. I believe it is a noble life to serve to those who are superior. I see much promise in you, Mr. Hudson. When I look at you, I see myself.”

“I’m nothing like you!”

“That is because you’re still an idealist. But that will soon change.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“We all have it within us to terrible things. I saw you that night beside Thomas, ready to smother him with that pillow. I watched you how you wanted to put an end to his condition. I admit it was quite admirable.”

“But I didn’t do it.”

“Yes, but something else will trigger that inner impulse for savagery. You already had your taste of it.”

Everything I said he had a counterargument for. No matter what I said, he always seemed to be right in a twisted sort of way. Nothing I said seemed to matter. I felt insignificant and inferior to a man who seemed to know all the answers. Yet I knew he was wrong in so many ways.

He went to the mantle where the Russian pistol was still in its holster. He removed it from its holster and handed it to me. “Take it. It’s loaded,” he said. He placed down his gun on the desk. I picked it up, not thinking twice about it.

“I know you hate me, Jake. I can see it in your eyes, in your demeanor. I am terribly sorry you feel that way. In some way, I was hoping we could be friends, but, it seems due to the circumstances…”

“Friends, with you?”

“Perhaps ‘friend’ is not the appropriate word . Mentor would be a better fit. That’s all I really ever wanted to be to all of you. But, sadly, you couldn’t see the value of what I was offering.” I pointed the gun at Mr. Hugo.

I wanted to press the trigger so badly. To shut him up for good. My finger began squeezing the trigger. “Shut up!”

“Yes. That’s it. Let your hatred of me rise through you. It’s been sitting there all this time. Release it.”

“Just shut up. Be quiet!”

“Come on, Jake. You have the gun. Shoot me.”

“I’ll kill you, I swear it.”

“That’s what I’m hoping for. Pull the trigger.”

The gun trembled in my hand. I yearned to pull that damn trigger. I aimed the sight right at his head. The palms of my hands were sweaty. I thought I was going to drop the gun. But as much as I hated him, I lowered the pistol and dropped it on the floor. I just couldn’t go through with it. I could beat someone with my bare hands, but I just couldn’t bring myself and kill another man. There was enough death in Crowam. I didn’t want to contribute to it anymore.

Mr. Hugo looked amused. His amusement turned to disappointment. “What are you doing?” Mr. Hugo asked.

“I won’t do it.”

“What?”

“As much as I want to kill you, killing you won’t change anything that happened here. Like I said, I’m nothing like you.”

Mr. Hugo had a malicious smirk. “Have it your way, Mr. Hudson.” Mr. Hugo raised his pistol, pointing it at me once again. My ear rang from the gunshot that came from the door. I jumped from the shot. The pane of glass behind Mr. Hugo exploded with bloody fragments. His eyes rolled. The back of his head exploded, with only a small entry wound in the front made from a small caliber gun.

Mr. Hugo fell to the floor with a loud thud, like a sack of potatoes. The blood and fragments of brain slid down the windowpane. The policeman emerged from behind the door. I was dazed, my ears still ringing, but it was at that point I knew Mr. Hugo couldn’t harm anyone else. I knew my time at Crowam was over.

I sat against a brick wall and ate some soup. I was hiding beneath a blanket one of the policemen gave me. I was in one of those trances where I zoned out into a parallel universe of nothingness. The blanket kept me warm, insulating me from the cold yet sunny winter day. I laughed at myself for a moment. The gun Mr.Hugo gave me wasn’t loaded. The policeman who shot Mr.Hugo told me. Mr.Hugo was conniving tell the very end. But now, all I knew was that it was over.

Despite this, I sort of felt empty. I couldn’t understand why initially. At first, I was relieved that my ordeal at Crowam was over. There was no war to fight, no struggle to wage against. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do. I figured that I could go back to the States, but there wasn’t anyone waiting for me back home. I had no parents and no family, really. Hell, the only family I ever had were the friends I befriended behind these very walls.

Felix, Owen, and Charles approached me, looking just as beaten and tired as me. “Good lord,” I said to Owen. “I didn’t think you could pull it off.”

“I’m glad I could prove you wrong,” Owen said.

I embraced Owen, it was the least I could do. “You did good, buddy. You did real good.”

“Thanks, Jake.”

“I think I didn’t do too shabby myself, if I may be so bold,” Charles said.

“Charles, you’re a regular statesman,” I said. “A Goddamn Winston Churchill. You keep making speeches like that, they may make you Prime Minister.”

“Prime minister. I like the sound of that.”

“Very distinguished.” I said.

“How are you doing?” Charles asked me.

“Tired. Real tired.”

“We all are,” Felix said.

We didn’t mention Crowam, Mr. Hugo, or any of its actors. We just lived in the moment, where time stood still.

I approached an officer who exited Crowam with a shocked look on his office.

“Excuse me,” I said. “There are more boys in another part of the Crowam. The infirmary. Did you find them?”

The officer seemed dazed. “Yes.”

“Are any of them alive?”

He shook his head. “Those poor children.” He said.

“There’s a boy named. Is he still alive?”

“Most of the boys were killed by the guards or died from their wounds before we arrived. I’m sorry son.”

The officer walked off dazed as paramedics and policeman marched inside with stretchers and other equipment. “All those boys.” I said to myself.

“There was nothing else we could do, Jake, you know that,” Felix said.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Petey kicking some dirt by himself. He was holding what appeared to be a cup of hot chocolate. He saw me as I walked to him. He ran and hugged my leg like his life depended on it. “Jake!”

“How you doing, kid?”

He was distracted by the hot chocolate and playing games. It was amazing how he could seem so cheerful after all this. I admired that about him. “What school will they put us in?”

“I don’t think they’re going to put me in another school. I’m too old. I’ll be on my own.”

“I understand.” Petey frowned and looked at the ground, ashamed as if he did something wrong. I kneeled down, playfully flicking his chin with my finger so he would look at me.

“You’re a great kid. I’m not really good at saying these things. But I love you, kid. Hell, you’re one of the best friends I’ve ever had.”

“Where are you going? I can go with you. I won’t be any trouble.”

“I know you won’t be, but you don’t deserve that kind of life. You deserve to be with a family. People who will love you and raise you right.”

“I don’t need a family.”

“Don’t say that, don’t you say that. You need one, more than you know.”

“No I don’t. I’m big enough. I’m tough just like all you.”

Felix walked over. “Listen to Jake, little one. He’s right. This is no life for a young boy like you. Wouldn’t you want a family to love you?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Come now, Petey,” I said.

Petey looked lost and tearful once again.

Behind Petey, an elderly couple approached us. They were in good health, but you could see they endured much from the bags under their eyes and the slow pace of their steps. “Hello, I’m so sorry to bother you.”

“No, you’re no bothering us,” I said.

Their clothes were too big for their frame. The wife had gray hair with a strand of black left over from her youth. The husband wore thick-rimmed glasses. He stood slightly hunched, with some cuts and bruises on his face.

They appeared worn and weary, yet their presence served a purpose. Clutched in the man’s hand was a wooden toy horse. “I was hoping you could help us. We’re looking for our son. We were hoping you might know him.” There was a flair of resemblance that should have given it away. My throat clogged up.

I was going to ask who they were looking for, but I already knew. My face expressed only remorse and grief.

“Thomas, how did he…?” the man asked. “I’m sorry, perhaps it is best that my question be left unanswered.”

“I think that’s best.”

“Were all of you good friends with him?”

“Yes, all of us,” Charles said.

Thomas’s father couldn’t help himself. “Did he die alone?”

“No. I was with him,” I said

The father approached me, with desolation in his eyes. “Did he suffer? That is all I want to know.”

“He died peacefully.”

“Were you good friends with him?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Yes?”

“I’m so sorry.”

“There is nothing to be sorry for. You were there with him when he died. He was with someone who cared for him. I could tell you two cared for one another. That is true friendship. All of you share that same bond. It is so tragic that bond was made in such an awful place.”

Petey tugged at the man’s pants and pointed at the wooden horse. “Is that a toy?” Petey asked.

The man knelt down. “Why yes, it is. It was our son’s when he was a baby. We couldn’t afford much, but this toy meant the world to him. Say, would you like to have it?”

Petey looked at me, as if asking for permission. “Go ahead. Petey. It’s a gift,” I said.

Petey bashfully took the toy, still unsure if he was doing anything wrong. “Thank you.” Petey said.

“You’re welcome.”

“I…” Petey stuttered.

“What is it?”

“I never got a gift before,” Petey admitted.

It was difficult to describe the face Thomas’s father made. “Petey?”

Petey looked up, intrigued.

“Would you like to come with us?”

Petey provided a brilliant smile that could light up a room. The man picked him up by the arms, holding him tight. His wife kissed Petey on the forehead, as if he were a son she raised herself.

“Are you boys alright?” he asked.

“I think we’ll be ok.”

“I think so too.” They walked off into the distance.

“Merry Christmas, kid,” I said.

“You’re running off again, huh?” Felix asked as he stood behind me. “I’m not going to stop you this time, of course. We’re all free now.”

“Thank God for that,” I said.

“Where are you going?” Felix asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe back to the States, maybe France. I guess wherever the road takes me. What about you?”

“To be honest. I don’t know. I thought about going to Africa.”

“Why Africa?”

“I never shied away from adventure.”

“Well, I’ve had my fill of adventure,” I said.

“Yes, I can understand that. I suppose all of us are going our own way.”

“Looks that way,” I said.

“Bloody shame, we make a very good team. It’s a damn shame.”

I nodded, humbly agreeing. “I’m not very good with goodbyes,” I said.

“Neither am I,” Felix said. He extended his hand. “Good luck to you, Jake.” A firm handshake it was. “Goodbye, friend.”

We walked our separate ways. I entered the forest, which was damp and wet. Still too cold. I brushed aside the branches and wet twigs. The ground beneath me was a bit muddy. I felt the moisture seep into my socks. The forest cleared. I came across train tracks. The train tracks were rusty and worn. They seemed to lead infinitely in either direction. I looked both ways. No train was in sight. I had to make a choice, but after Mr. Hugo’s exposé on choice, I was tired of making them.

I headed North, walking on the wooden planks wedged between the steel tracks. The forests on either side created a narrow corridor. The walking became insipid, where the farther I walked, the closer I got to nowhere. I thought about going South, but then I would be going right back where I started.