Extreme Vinyl Café (7 page)

They were back in the boys’ washroom. Murphy, Sam, Peter, Geoff and Gregory.

Murphy said, “He was hunched over and moving really slowly.”

“You saw him?” said Gregory.

“His shadow,” said Murphy. “I saw his shadow. It was huge against the wall, and he was all bent over.”

“Why would he be all bent over?” said Peter.

Geoff punched him. Geoff said, “Because he has been cut up and made redundant, stupid.”

“I knew that,” said Peter.

And then Peter, who was getting afraid, said, “Where do you think they keep him during the day?”

Geoff said, “In the supply cupboard. With all the other redundant people.

“That’s why they keep it locked,” said Geoff. “They let them out at night, and they roam the halls.”

Everyone was nodding. Except Murphy. Murphy was shaking his head.

Murphy said, “The boiler room.”

Peter looked horrified. Peter said, “All those weird noises….”

Geoff said, “The clanging and the moans.”

Murphy nodded. Murphy said, “It’s the redundant people.”

S
am got a note from Murphy in the middle of math class. Which wouldn’t be noteworthy, except Murphy isn’t in Sam’s math class.

Meet me in the locker room after school.

When Sam arrived, Murphy was staring at the rusted door that led into the sub-basement. And from there, to the boiler room.

Murphy said, “We have to get in there.”

Sam, who had heard about the boiler room but had never actually seen it, said, “I was afraid of that.”

The two of them were standing in front of the locked door, when it opened suddenly, and the new janitor walked out.

He looked at the boys and frowned. “You don’t want to go in
there
, boys. Boys could get hurt in there.”

Sam wanted to run. Murphy stood his ground. He was staring at the janitor.

The janitor reached self-consciously behind him and checked he had locked the door.

“Told you,” said Murphy, when he was out of earshot.

“Poor Wally,” said Sam. “We
have
to do something.”

“We will,” said Murphy.

M
urphy, who could arrange to get a note to a friend in a math class when he was nowhere near the classroom, is not a boy who favours doorbells. When Murphy comes to call, he comes on the wind: a handful of dirt chucked at a window, the hoot of an owl, or, as he came that night, a flashlight beaming from a garage roof.

Sam was already in bed when the flashlight played across his bedroom ceiling.

He went to his window and peered into the night. He couldn’t see anything, but he knew.

He flicked his bedroom lights, on and off, off and on. And then he slipped into a pair of sweatpants and out of his room. On his way past his parents’ bedroom, he stopped to listen to his father’s rhythmic breathing.

Murphy was in his backyard, sitting at the picnic table.

Sam slipped out the back door. “What’s going on?”

“I went and checked,” said Murphy. “It
is
him. I saw him.”

“What are we going to do?” said Sam.

“Tomorrow night,” said Murphy. “We are going to free him.”

Murphy pulled his hand out of his pocket. His fist was clenched. Slowly Murphy uncurled his fingers. He was holding a key.

Sam shut his eyes and rocked back and forth.

“The boiler room?” said Sam.

It was part question. But mostly it was a statement. Sam already knew the answer.

Five minutes later Sam snuck into his bedroom and five minutes after that he was lying in bed. He lay there for about ten minutes, too keyed up to sleep. After ten minutes he got up and rummaged around in his bureau. He found what he was looking for in the back of the bottom drawer: his old Spider-Man pyjamas. He hadn’t worn them for years. He put them on and stood in front of the mirror. The pants came only halfway down his legs. His arms were way too long for the sleeves. But he liked the way they looked.

He got onto his desk the way he used to and leapt onto his bed. He lay there in the darkness.

“I have radioactive blood,” he said.

W
hen the school board cut back on its custodial staff, Wally was too far down the seniority list to hold on to his day shift at Sam’s school. The board offered him a day position across town, but Wally opted to take the night shift at the school he loved. It seemed like a good choice at the time, but a month
into the job, Wally was regretting it. The night shift was lonely. Lonelier, even, than window washing. The school felt unnatural at night—as hollow as an empty amusement park. And on the odd night when there were people inside the building, they were never kids. The people were nothing but an irritant. A week ago there was a staff meeting that dragged on and on, and Wally had to stay an hour later than usual. Tonight a neighbourhood committee was meeting to discuss speed limits, and traffic flow, and whether or not the street lights were turning on at the right time of night.

Wally knew that he would have to interrupt them several times before they would clear out, and that whatever he did, there would be stragglers preventing him from locking up and getting home on time.

Sam and Murphy didn’t know
anything
about any of that. All Sam and Murphy knew was that Wally was in trouble. And that they had to do something.

According to the plan, they were to meet in the schoolyard. At the top of the slide. When everyone was asleep.

S
am lay in bed staring at the clock, willing it to move, praying it wouldn’t, until, all of a sudden, it was time. He got up and dressed and carefully arranged a pile of laundry under his blankets the way Murphy had told him, trying to make it appear as if he was tucked in bed, asleep. Then he snuck downstairs and slid out the back door.

He stayed off the sidewalks. He cut across front yards. He climbed over back fences. He kept to the shadows.

He was wearing a backpack. He had packed a flashlight, a penknife, two peanut butter sandwiches, a piece of rope,
a Baggie of dog biscuits in case there were dogs, and a book to identify animal spoor.

It was the middle of the night when he got to the schoolyard. At least ten o’clock. Maybe even 10:15. And when he got there, he couldn’t believe his eyes. There were cars in the parking lot. And there were lights on in the school.

Someone must have squealed on them.

Murphy was already there, waiting.

Murphy said, “I have been here for an hour.”

Sam pointed at the lights and the cars. “The people.…” said Sam.

But Murphy was already under way. Murphy was half crouched and zigzagging his way across the schoolyard like a commando. Sam ran after him, trying to catch up. Sam didn’t want to be alone.

The side door of the school was mysteriously open.

“Come on,” said Murphy in the darkness. Sam could hear Murphy, but he couldn’t see him.

They came out into a hall at the back of the staff room. There were people talking.

“Shhh,” said Murphy. “It’s them.”

“Who?” said Sam.

“The people who make you redundant.”

Sam crept forward and peeked around the open door. He had never seen any of these people in his life.

There was a man saying something.

“It happened again last night,” said the man, “somebody is going to get killed one of these days.”

Murphy looked at Sam.

“See,” said Murphy. “It’s them.”

“What are we going to do?” asked Sam.

I
t was Murphy, who had done morning announcements three times already that year, who got them into the vice-principal’s office and onto the school public address system. It was Murphy, who sat at the vice-principal’s desk and flicked on the PA. It was Murphy who then leaned into the microphone, lowered his voice and did his best Darth Vader impression: “It is time for you to go. Leave now while you still can.”

Then he sat back.

Neither he nor Sam heard the ripple of laughter in the staff room—where the neighbourhood traffic committee had been arguing about speed bumps for the past two and a half hours.

Murphy and Sam were out of earshot. Murphy made his announcement, leaned back and shrugged at Sam. Then he moved toward the microphone once more for good measure:

“You are free to go … if you go
now
.”

Murphy flicked off the PA, and he and Sam ran out of the office and down the hall, ducking into Miss Perriton’s kindergarten class. They flew to the window. When they saw the cars pulling out of the parking lot, they high-fived each other.

“Let’s go,” said Sam.

“Not yet,” said Murphy. “Wait till the last one.”

And so they waited in the dark kindergarten room. And while they waited, they drifted over to the big blocks and built a tower, and the tower became a castle, and soon they forgot why they were there. Murphy was defending the castle against the black knights who had begun an attack with their ally—a monstrous stuffed bear—when suddenly the light in
the corridor snapped on and they just about jumped out of their skins.

Sam ran to the window and stared at the parking lot. He mouthed the word
Empty
. They hid in the corner of the classroom and waited.

They waited forever. And nothing happened.

And then … Wally walked slowly down the hall pushing a broom. They waited another five minutes. Then they went looking for him. But he had vanished.

W
ally’s office is in the boiler room. Murphy used his key to open the boiler-room door. It was dark and gloomy in there. The ceiling was low and the corridor narrow. There were pipes everywhere—on the walls and on the ceiling. It was like a dungeon.

Murphy said, “Come on.”

Wally was sitting at his desk beside the boiler. He had his feet on a milk crate. He was eating a banana muffin. He had a stainless steel Thermos beside him.

They stood in the doorway for maybe a minute without saying anything. Wally didn’t see them at first. And then he must have sensed them staring at him, and he glanced up and saw the two of them standing there in the gloom.

The sight of them should have startled him, but after you spend twelve years hanging over the edge of high-rises day in and day out, you don’t startle easily.

Wally put his muffin down, pulled his feet off the milk crate and waved them in.

“Hello boys,” he said. “Was that you on the PA?”

Murphy nodded. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the key.

Murphy stepped forward, held out the key and said, “You’re free to go now.”

Wally looked stunned.

Murphy whispered to Sam, “It will take awhile for him to recover from the redundancy.”

“It’s okay,” said Murphy. “They’ve gone.”

“All of them?” asked Wally. “They’re not hanging around the doors?”

“All of them,” said Sam. “You’re safe. You can go.”

“About time,” said Wally, glancing at his watch.

He wanted to walk them home. But they went alone.

“We’re okay,” said Murphy.

“D
id you see how fast he wanted to get out of there?” said Sam.

They were in Sam’s backyard, sitting at the picnic table again.

“Swear you’ll never tell,” said Murphy.

“I swear,” said Sam.

They shook hands.

F
ive minutes later Sam was pulling on his Spider-Man pyjamas when he froze in horror. The pile of laundry he had stuffed under his covers was piled neatly on his desk chair. He stared at his bed in the darkness. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

The lump in his bed moved. “Hi,” it said.

“Hi,” said Sam.

It was his father.

Neither of them said anything for a moment. Then Sam said, “I can’t tell you what I have been doing.”

“You take an oath?” said Dave.

“Yes,” said Sam.

“Must have been very important to keep you up so late,” said Dave.

“Yes,” said Sam.

“Everything okay?” said Dave.

“Yes,” said Sam. “Everything’s fine.”

“Is everyone okay?” said Dave.

“Yes.”

“Is everyone at home? In bed?”

Dave was sitting on the edge of the bed staring at his son.

Sam said, “Soon.”

“I’ve been pretty worried,” said Dave.

Sam said, “Does Mom know?”

Dave said, “She is sound asleep.”

Sam exhaled slowly, and then he crawled into bed with his father.

They lay there in the darkness, and then Dave said, “Can you tell me anything?”

Sam smiled and said, “One thing.”

Sam reached out and pulled his father’s ear to his mouth. He whispered, “I have radioactive blood.”

W
ally reappeared on day shift about a month later. The ongoing battle over the drain, not to mention a nasty wave of stomach flu, convinced the new janitor that early retirement wasn’t such a bad idea.

Wally came back. And the schoolyard drain is plugged solid again, just the way it should be.

Only a very select circle knows about Sam and Murphy’s night in the school; and how they saved Wally from redundancy.

Some boys say it’s not true, that they weren’t even there.

That’s what Mark Portnoy was saying at recess a few weeks ago.

Mark had Murphy pinned against the coatroom wall and was threatening to take his lunch when Wally came along, and Mark had to let Murphy go. Mark thought he would save face by asking Wally outright.

“He says he and snot-nose snuck in here one night and saved you from the recumbent people.”

Wally looked quizzically at Murphy and then at Sam, who was there too. Then he looked at Mark Portnoy and said, “As a matter of fact, those people would probably still be in the staff room making their plans if it weren’t for those two.”

Then he took Mark Portnoy down to his office and gave him a doughnut and some coffee from his Thermos, and Mark forgot about Murphy’s lunch. And truth be known, Mark has been treating both Sam and Murphy with what almost passes as respect ever since.

Dear Mr. McLean,

I understand that you travel across this great country with your show The Vinyl Cafe, so I assume you have seen many of the natural and man-made marvels that this country has to offer. With that in mind, I am wondering if you know where I might locate a porcelain hedgehog?