ORDEAL BY FIRE (2)
The prefects discussed what to do with the two defaulters so that they themselves would be put to as little inconvenience as possible. As the discussion proceeded, Derek saw his hopes of early release receding more and more. He made a note to himself: don’t get caught for a minor offence when the Prefects had already got another pupil who was going to have to undergo an ordeal.
“Very well, Kork, don’t move, just listen. We want this room to ourselves. We’re fed up with sharing it with a couple of useless oiks. Why should we spend our afternoon guarding Hill when you could do it for us?” Derek realised that it was a rhetorical question and maintained the expected silence. “Very well, since you have no answer to my question, here’s what we’ll do." Basset outlined the immediate futures of Derek Kork and Joe Hill.
“Alright, let’s get him out of here.” Even swaddled in so many layers, Joe was no heavyweight as far as Robinson was concerned and, once Bassett had hauled him to his feet, the chunky prefect easily hoisted him onto one broad shoulder. Having his head swathed in three hoods left Joe unsure as to exactly what was about to happen to him and he let forth an involuntary cry of alarm as he felt himself lifted from the ground. “One extra hour!” Shouted Basset as close as possible to where he assumed one of Joe’s ears to be. The heavily muffled groan from Joe was echoed by the despairing one from Derek.
As Robinson started to carry his burden out of the Prefects’ Common Room, he called Derek to follow. As he did so, Derek wondered whether he could change to polishing the Prefects’ shoes after all. The Prefects had decided that no-one was likely to be using the drying room that weekend and, even if they did, staff members were noticeably reluctant to enter the place and not many pupils would dare to interrupt an ordeal. It just wasn’t worth having to suffer alongside the original victim who would only have to make up the time (and more) later.
One flight of stairs and a semi-circumnavigation of the outside of the oldest school building later brought the four boys to the outdoor pursuits store and the notorious drying room. Perhaps I’d better explain the nature of the room just in case some readers haven’t experienced the “atmosphere” in such a facility. The room was well supplied with heating pipes, hanging rails and storage racks and was always kept above 25º C. It was also full of the sort of clothing in which boys had exerted themselves, got wet, trailed thorough mud and worse and even some such garments that seemed to have been abandoned as irremediable some time ago. Please try to imagine the smell of soaking hiking socks and wet boots, wet suits that had been ducked in the canal, denims that had been worn for navigating the assault course, various items of abandoned underwear and almost anything else that was mucky and with which the boys could not be bothered to deal when mealtimes called. Even the items that had dried out didn’t smell of violets.
Even through the two hoods that covered his face, Joe became aware of the fragrance a few seconds after Basset had closed the door. Not being completely mummified with tape, Joe was still capable of flexing his body, especially with the type of assistance that basset and Robinson were about to render. They could have simply left him on the floor or taped him to a bench with Derek watching over him but that didn’t seem too good an idea when there were those handy pigeon holes available.
“Kork, empty all that shit out of that piggy there. You can stow it tidily once we’ve left.” That in itself was not a job to look forward to, the pigeon hole seemed to have been crammed with discarded underwear and socks (and some less easy to identify items) for quite some time. Let’s face it, all the while the staff were reluctant to supervise the place, the boys needed somewhere to stow all the really disgusting items that they had no intention of retrieving. There was no point in being squeamish; Derek just reached deep into the container and raked its contents onto the floor, some of it landing on Joe where Robinson had dumped him.
“Clear it away from the front of the piggy. Put your back into it.” Derek’s nose came much nearer to the pile of discarded items once he realised he wasn’t going to get away with simply kicking it aside. Yes, now he was sure; he SHOULD have chosen to polish the Prefects’ shoes. “Right, that’s good enough, face the door.” Derek adopted the usual hands-on-head stance against the door. Even the residual smell of the timber preservative was preferable to having to enjoy the prevailing atmosphere in the drying room.
The Pigeon hole, above which some wit had inscribed “Toxic Waste”, was about 70 centimetres wide and high and the best part of a metre deep. It was part of a wooden system of storage spaces that was constructed from bits of “two-be-one” slats attached to the traditional “two-be-two” vertical and horizontal framework. The Prefects (and, indeed, many of the other boys) often found the resultant sturdy slatted construction useful for securing and torturing their victims. Derek was wondering how on earth Joe was managing to take in enough oxygen to survive from the disgusting atmosphere. Then he realised, the Prefects had told him that Joe’s safety was one of his two major concerns.
While he stood smelling the door, Derek was unaware of exactly what was happening to Joe but he made a very accurate guess. Basset stood their mummy upright and Robinson shouldered him again. Basset guided the foot-end of the sleeping bag into the pigeon hole then Robinson rammed him home. By the time he’d finished, Joe had been scrunched into a “Z” shape with the hood of his sleeping bag well inside the pigeon hole. Robison then picked up a rope that had been dumped following a rock-climbing session and started his artistic masterwork. It must have taken him ten minutes to complete it before Basset gave Derek his final orders.
“Don’t forget, if he calls, ‘Mercy’, you MUST uncover his head immediately. Use this knife if you have to.” Basset lodged a formidable looking knife on the shelf where Joe had been imprisoned. “If you’re worried about him, prod him hard, he knows he must react if he’s alright. Don’t forget, untie this lot and give him water every hour.”
As the Prefects left, Derek saw what Basset meant by “this lot”. Robinson had taken the climbing rope and threaded it in a zig-zag between the slats along the side of the pigeon hole. It must have taken quite an act of patience especially as he had followed that up with a further zig-zag between the top and bottom slats, weaving the rope through the horizontal lengths resulting in a fairly secure net enclosing the mummy within the pigeon hole.
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As Robinson and Basset made their way back to the Common Room, the discussion, as soon as they were out of Derek’s earshot, became quite intense.
“How long are we going to leave him there?”
“About two hours?”
“Yea, sounds about right. What about Kork?”
“Well, he’s just about served his time but unless we can find someone else to guard the mummy. . . .”
“I’ll go and see if I can find one of the oiks to do it.”
“Suppose no one’s out of order?”
“Oh, come on. How long have you known me? I’ll find a tiddler who deserves a hard time and make something up. You know he won’t dare argue.” For someone who was basically a nice guy, Robinson had a dark side to him that surfaced some times. “You get a brew on; I bet I can find one inside twenty minutes.”
“Is that a bet, then?”
“Of course. Couple of quid?”
“You’re on.” The two prefects shook hands and parted.
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To cut a long story short, at precisely eighteen minutes and fifty-seven seconds after Basset had set his watch, Robinson reappeared with both Derek Kork in tow and a grin on his face. “Hand it over. Tell him, Kork.”
Derek folded his arms behind him and recounted the story. “Robinson brought this kid, Harrison, into the gas chamber.” That was what most of the boys called the drying room. “Apparently he didn’t hold the door open for him or something.” Robinson’s grin widened as Basset put the coin in his hand. “He got the same orders as I had and was threatened with taking Hill’s place if he got it wrong.” Basset acknowledged that he should have known better than to doubt his principal lieutenant, smiled and shook his head resignedly.
“Alright Kork, push off. Your time’s up.”
Derek held his ground. “Permission to speak, Basset?”
“Yes?”
“Can I stay in mufti for the rest of the weekend or do I have to change into uniform?” He was aware of the custom of confining defaulters to uniform while all the other boys who had stayed in school were casually dressed, but asking was safer.
“Eric, flip that coin and cover it up.” Robinson flipped his ill-gotten gains and held it in front of Derek’s face.
“Call.”
Derek looked as if concentration would help him make the right decision before calling, “Heads.”
Robinson uncovered the coin. Derek’s mouth sprung open. “OK, Kork, piss off and don’t do it again.”
Derek’s thanks were effusive and sincere even if his promises of future good conduct were less so. He wasted no more time leaving as the Prefects smiled.
“You’re all heart.”
“Tell me.”
TBC