The Three Thorns (7 page)

“I think we should go with him,” suggested Benjamin.

Tommy rolled his eyes and pushed his smaller friend forward. “You go with him if you want to get yourself caught or worse…kidnapped. I’m following the map.”

Benjamin kicked at the frosted grass in frustration at Tommy’s stubbornness.

“Well, I’m not going to freeze to death trying to find my way in the dark,” Benjamin sighed as he followed the rabbit hunter’s footsteps.

Tommy slumped next to a tree to memorize the map. Hypnotic sounds of branches rustling inside the woods sent him into a restless sleep until a loud howl woke him. He peered over the hill’s edge to see a large stretch of land close below, but Benjamin and O’Malley were no longer in sight.

Winds blew fierce across the fields as Tommy made a late start toward his destination.

Adrenaline kept his body going while he ran down the opposite side of the hill. A stone embedded in the ground instantly caught his shoe and flung him forward. Rolling the rest of the way down the steep hillside, Tommy roughly landed flat on his face in the frost.

The winds had grown stronger and he could feel the frost bite at his bare knees where his trousers had been ripped. His legs were cut and bruised from the tumble, which made him feel wretched. Picking himself up from the frosty ground, he limped his way across the first patch of field.

Meanwhile, in another open field a few miles ahead, Benjamin wasn’t having too well a time himself. Having abandoned his only companion to follow the prodigious stranger caused him to panic. After all, anything could happen to him now, and Benjamin’s imagination usually thought the worst. His sudden anxiety exhausted his body, and the blistering cold had made his feet twice as heavy. He couldn’t go on. Feeling sick, chilly and downright miserable, Benjamin’s body finally gave up.

The rabbit hunter immediately took off his large animal coat made out of wolf’s skin and wrapped it around the fainting boy. Lifting Benjamin in one arm over his free shoulder, O’Malley started to slog through the rest of the field while he listened to the sounds from the forest.

The cold was like nothing Tommy had ever felt. His mind couldn’t concentrate on anything. He lost all sense of hope and briefly forgot about Benjamin and Peter. He even forgot about Gatesville and how he came to be in this serious situation.

The only thing he had the strength to think about now was a warm bed. Thoughts of comfort became more vivid the icier the weather became. He longed for rest.

After he reached a patch of forest, his hazel green right eye detected a small light in the distance. A torch? A flashlight?

The moonlight danced off a pearly set of teeth that shone back at him through the shadows. Bright snow under its body reflected a fierce glow in its piercing eyes as the boy moved inches away from the beautiful face of a lethal wolf.

Unwittingly, the boy’s eyes locked onto the beast’s dazzling electric ice blues and caused him to faint with fear.

Tommy could sense another light behind his closed eyelids but was too weak to show any sign that he was still semi-conscious. The light exposed an unusual sight of wolves still lingering near the seemingly dead boy. The ravenous wolf pack stood still, curiously watching the man rescue what was supposed to be their long-deserved meal.

O’Malley shouted at the wolves that stood several yards away from the boy while he covered Tommy in more wolf skin. The wolves stood as still as stone statues, beautifully silhouetted by the light. None howled nor made a sound. Tommy slipped into a comfortable deep sleep when the heavy fur shawl coated his upper body.

Heavy snow swept across the open field. With the aid of one large stick and a newly lit beacon in the other hand, O’Malley continued his heroic journey toward the sanctuary of his house, carrying the unconscious boy the rest of the way he had carried Benjamin.

Rain pelted down over Gatesville that night. There was a new wrath to be endured for the children, especially the captured runaways. No one had seen hide nor hair of George Johnston since he was ushered back to the dreaded borstal, and even Jimmy Donald had begun to think the worst. Double shifts and extra duties for failing to capture Benjamin Brannon was just the start of a year-long punishment set in motion by the prideful principal of Gatesville.

It was past midnight when a noisy car pulled up to the front gates. Nearly every boy from the east side of the building block took to their bedroom windows for a careful glimpse at the unforeseen visitor. Two policemen and a peculiar, overly dressed man entered through the main gates. The rain and wind became so severe it almost blew all three hats off of the figures, causing the boys in the east block to laugh aloud before they hushed each other. A man in a trench coat followed Mr. Porter after greeting him, and within minutes the police were escorted into Gatesville’s main corridor.

“We’ve come a long way Mr. Jennings. You said this was urgent?” The tall, rugged man asked, making himself comfortable as he sat in the principal’s guest chair in his office.

“You don’t think stolen police property is an urgent matter, Inspector?” Mr. Jennings asked smugly, pouring himself a cup of freshly brewed tea.

“Two bicycles and a satchel are hardly urgent matters. That case is now closed. We caught the perpetrators and recovered the stolen property, including your money.” The Inspector smiled proudly, seeming victorious in front of his police guards. He then took off his black hat and shook the raindrops onto Jennings’ luxurious carpet.

“It most certainly is not closed. I am still missing three of my boys,” Mr. Jennings snapped after he gulped down his cup of black tea. “One of whom never registered with us here at Gatesville. He’s totally off the books, no trace…like a ghost. Explain that.”

“Mr. Jennings,” the Inspector said calmly, “whomever you allow to slip under your nose is ultimately your responsibility by law. What we can do for you is draw up a missing children’s report and–.”

“Those reports don’t amount to a hill of beans,” Mr. Jennings interrupted, jumping upright from his chair.

“Nevertheless…it’s standard procedure, Mr. Jennings,” sighed the Inspector as he fixed his black hat back onto his head.

“Once we have a legitimate lead, we’ll let you know,” said one of the policemen whilst the three headed for the exit door.

“Don’t bother…I’ve saved you the trouble,” Mr. Jennings sniggered, throwing a crumpled piece of paper across his desk at the Inspector who grappled to catch it in one attempt.

“What’s this?” asked the Inspector, unfolding it.

“One of my runaways you brought back had this in his possession. It’s a map. I think that’s lead enough for you, don’t you think?” Mr. Jennings boasted.

“We’ll take this to the station for review,” the Inspector concluded.

Mr. Jennings’ expression suddenly changed from a boastful grin to an angry disgruntled frown. “What? That’s it? That’s all you’re going to do?”

“I would mind my tone if I were you, Mr. Jennings,” the Inspector said coolly. “There are hundreds of runaway cases to be dealt with every day. We have to first run a check on these areas to know for sure they exist. For all we know they could be meeting points that have elapsed by now,” he continued.

“Or
they
could be at any one of these spots,” Mr. Jennings interrupted.

“Let us check it before we use up any manpower and the people’s taxes on a widespread manhunt. We’re just making sure this will not turn out to be a wild goose chase. Then we can proceed. I’ve had more experience in these matters than you have, Mr. Jennings, and many cases like this prove unsuccessful…however, if I find these areas to be habited by the boys, I will certainly contact you in due course, when and only when I have the available staff to do so,” the Inspector added bluntly, turning his back on the old man to exit the office.

“Ridiculous,” Mr. Jennings hissed. “Lucky for me I have made an extra copy; get to the bottom of this myself, I will,” he rambled, muttering under his breath.

“I strongly advise against taking police matters into your own hands…or you’ll be the one we’ll come back for,” one policeman threatened. Mr. Jennings screwed up his face in disgust when the Inspector motioned for his men to leave.

“Good night, Mr. Jennings,” the Inspector sighed.

“Oh forget it, you good for nothings!” Mr. Jennings yelled back once his office door slammed heavily behind them.

The flickering of the Victorian lamps at the front gate dimmed for a few seconds, then glowed brighter. Neither bobby seemed to notice it at first until the Inspector pointed out the random change in the flame’s color. The normal ember radiance suddenly turned ice blue then changed rapidly to an earthly green and back again. The flame eventually faded to a light gray as if it had been drained of all its color before burning out.

“That was strange, don’t you think?” one policeman tittered at the Inspector.

“It has stopped raining too,” the other policeman added, staring at his colleagues who were both bewildered.

“I’ll meet you back at the station,” the Inspector muttered in suspicion after noticing the orphans peering through the window at him. Taking the piece of paper from his chest pocket, the Inspector hurriedly unfolded the map and took another glance at it.

“Inspector?” the second bobby asked, waiting on an explanation for the Inspector’s delay.

“I need to speak with this Jennings character one more time. I’ll send for someone to collect me,” the Inspector replied with a reassuring nod. “Go on.”

“Very well, Sir,” said both policemen together.

Once the police wagon left Gatesville’s premises, heavy wind picked up around the grounds. The Inspector was only a step away from entering the building when an enormous blast of wind picked him off his feet and flung him into the darkness of the playground. Wet autumn leaves violently swirled around the man, blowing his hat off as they encircled him.

“Get off me. What is this?” the Inspector yelled punching at the thick wall of leaves that entrapped him.

Lightning struck through the clouds seconds before it stood in front of him. The darkness shielded the monstrosity from his sight. Its terrible presence was felt yards away the instant it parted the swirling leaves. Its rancid stench swept across the entire playground, reaching the windows of the east block and causing every boy to cough and splutter and cover their noses.

Dazzling light shone out through the leaves and briefly lit up the playground long enough for everyone watching to see the nine-foot creature’s scary form. The Inspector screamed for help prior to his whole body evaporating into a vanishing light that left behind his hat. The children gasped in horror as they observed the giant monster morph into a human man to mimic the Inspector. Changing from the feet up, the creature’s frame magically imploded. Its heavy chained armor rapidly transformed into the form and frame of the Inspector’s dark cotton suit and pocket watch. Its steel armored feet followed next, converting into shiny black shoes. The final stage was the beast’s face. It stepped out of the playground and into the lit entrance of Gatesville, still transforming into the Inspector’s facial features until its conversion was complete a few seconds later.

A calm breeze carried the Inspector’s hat across the playground, rolling to the feet of his imitator.

Now mimicking his victim, the monstrous imposter knelt down gently to pick up the black hat before giving a bow to his audience of children who stood aghast behind their bedroom windows. After shutting their curtains tight, every boy ran from their windows in fright. They weren’t to get a wink of sleep after they heard the imposter enter the building with thunderous steps that echoed through the corridors, all the way to the principal’s office.

“Did you forget something?” Mr. Jennings grumbled, briefly glancing up from his desk with a raised eyebrow as he put down his calligraphy pen and dramatically crumpled up a letter he had been writing.

“I think I am mistaken, Mr. Jennings. This map seems quite genuine. If we hurry, it should lead us straight to them,” the false Inspector said sharply.

“My, my. You’ve changed your tune,” Mr. Jennings sniggered, fixing his glasses on his beaky nose. “Why, a second ago, you couldn’t have cared less.”

“Like I said, I was mistaken.” The false Inspector’s eyes shot back a cold, emotionless gaze that unnerved and shook the old principal out of his comfort zone.

“No harm done. I-I’ll arrange a meeting with you to discuss further action. I don’t want my runaways getting too comfortable. The sooner the better,” Mr. Jennings spluttered.

“I was thinking sooner,” the dark-eyed Inspector hissed, approaching Mr. Jennings’s desk.

“Blimey, you are keen,” Mr. Jennings tittered. “Alright, I’ll be at the station first thing tomorrow morning.” Mr. Jennings let out an impatient sigh, while he rudely continued to write. In one speedy move, the Inspector lifted the calligraphy pen out of the principal’s scarred fingers. It took Mr. Jennings a few seconds to take in the sudden odd behavior of the Inspector before he felt a little unnerved.

“Much sooner than that, Mr. Jennings,” the Inspector replied.

“How soon?” Mr. Jennings asked in a faint whisper, followed by a gulp.

“Now,” the Inspector whispered eerily, slowly handing the pen back to him, revealing a silver glint in his eyes and an eager smile that was filled with bad intent.

The show was about to begin. The prop boy could tell from the thundering roar of the orchestra that the first set of curtains had been opened. He couldn’t see much ahead of the opera house floor. The heavy lights that stretched across the circular ceiling above the audience began to dim, setting the right atmosphere for the play to commence. Coughs and conversations from the audience died down and their attention turned toward the stage, addressed by the prop boy’s charming and charismatic father.