The Outkast

It was a few minutes past ten in the morning, but the sun, completely wrapped in blankets of clouds, appeared resolute to linger in its slumber.

Across from the school, behind a thick overgrown bush set back from the road, The Outcast watched.

A while ago, from his vantage point, he had seen the boy, sad and afraid, heading towards Trevor Carter’s office. Fury soaked him up at the thought of the injustice his True Blood was going through-the same things he himself had gone through before his maltreatment had eventually culminated in him being forced out of the community. He didn’t have to engage in any thorough imaginative exercise to draw a conclusion as to what was going on behind Trevor Carter’s closed doors. But it wouldn’t be long. Soon, the boy’s sadness and fear would be replaced with supremacy.

The rest of the kids were bustling with joy, capering around like a flock of hyper lambs.

At some point, an elderly woman in blue denim jacket came out from one of the classrooms to the playground where the kids were having a swell time. She said something to them, and they all ran back inside their various classes.

A couple of other teachers-a man and a woman, both young-walked through the door that led into one of the school’s corridors.

Earlier, The Outcast had watched the pot-bellied Donnie Murphy as he shambled into his office. The fat bastard’s days were numbered. But The Outcast wouldn’t think about him yet-not until he was ripe enough for harvest. Today, he would channel his mental capability towards the snake in the grass, the so-called gentleman who was tormenting his True Blood at the moment-just as he had done over and over again.

He waited for a little while.

Quiet enveloped the school premises as soon as the students had settled down in their classes. Only faint, distant voices debouched from the various rooms as teachings commenced.

Just as he decided it was time to move, with the intention to sneak in through the back of the building, the security guard left his post.

The Outcast had made a good plan in the first place. But now, it seemed things were even panning out a little better.

He moved.

******

At the entrance, he slid his mask home and pushed the door open.

******

Trevor Carter was still reveling in the pleasure of seeing Robert cooped up and miserable. The boy was explaining something from inside his makeshift cell, but Trevor had absolutely no interest in what the lad had to say.

He cursed Robert and his mother, laughed a little, evincing traces of delirium, and then cursed some more. He was no doubt having an ecstatic moment.

He had swung both legs atop his desk, grabbed his bag of turkey sandwich-chair tilted, its back leaning against the wall-and had just taken the first bite when the door began to ease open.

What a shitload of impudence, he thought. Whoever that was-student or teacher-walking in on him without even knocking. He might be cool with everyone, but he wasn’t in any way a fool.

“What kind of nonsense-” he began to say amidst a mouthful of sandwich. But that was how far he could go- which was very far. His lips froze in an instant. His heart pumped blood two beats too fast. The masticated sandwich in his mouth felt like ground granite and tasted like nothing he had ever known.

He couldn’t believe his eyes. Right there at the door was a creature in black coveralls with a human body but chimp’s head, exceptionally muscular and tall to the heavens.

Robert screamed from the toilet.

As if the boy’s scream had cut him loose from his invisible bonds, Trevor launched the remaining sandwich out of his hand at the same time he spat out the one in his mouth, ready to do what he should have done a century ago. Even as he burst into a shattering scream of his own, struggling to bring the inclined chair back to horizontal level and simultaneously set his feet back on the floor-which was a very arduous task for a man in his situation-the monster at the door flung something in Trevor’s direction.

The pain to his neck was unspeakable. Trevor didn’t know what it was. All he knew was that, at the nanosecond after the pointed object had flown towards his neck and burrowed deep down into his flesh, he felt almost paralyzed. And then there was the pain, roaring and full blown. His vision went gray, and his initial endeavor to straighten up in his seat was laid waste. With a sudden convulsion, he collapsed with his back to the floor, where he squealed like a seagull. He tried to call out for help, to let the entire world know that he had been visited and struck down by a beast, but he just couldn’t get his voice up enough to achieve that goal. As hard as he tried to communicate his urgent need for help, only faint whimpers of pain and fear issued through his lips.

From within the toilet, Robert’s scream intensified, and then faded off.

Trevor attempted to reach up to his neck in order to pull out the weapon of destruction that had felled him. But he couldn’t do that, either. He quickly realized he had been gravely injured. His backbone must have cracked on impact when he had tumbled onto the floor.

He looked up and watched through gauzy eyes as the huge thing walked over to him. Trevor was still in the process of pulling the shrapnel out (or, rather, in the process of believing if he tried really hard, he could pull it out) from his neck when the monster grabbed his hair and hauled him up on his feet. The beast pressed its hairy face against Trevor’s, and then jabbed the pointed metal down Trevor’s throat even further before yanking it out. A dribble of blood-not a gush as would have been expected, but only a dribble of it- snailed out from Trevor’s neck. Nevertheless, his life was draining away-and doing so on an express lane. His vision had become gray around the edges, a blossom of darkening flowers growing inward from without.

“You’ll need to stand on your feet,” Trevor heard the monster say in a cold, gruff voice. “All by yourself. Like a man. A man with real backbone and balls.”

Everything had become distant to Trevor. At that moment, he had a weird feeling the huge beast was at some faraway point from him, the toilet door, beyond which the runty troll had been locked up, and the wall clock to his left were both receding into darkness now. Even his hope was fleeing away from him, and he just couldn’t match pace with it to catch it. His life, no doubt, would soon melt into nothingness.

From some faraway place, the voice said, “Maybe you could even try to run. Run really fast for your life.”

And then, the clamping hand released its firm grip on Trevor’s hair, whereupon he collapsed.

The distant thump against the floor was the last thing Trevor Carter’s consciousness processed.

******

The Outcast was furious.

This time, he had chosen a very delicate place to execute his judgement. A place where anyone could barge in at any time, and where things could go quickly awry even in the face of his growing immunity.

But that wasn’t the burning issue. After all, he was having a wild rush of ecstasy as he did his deed, so he couldn’t have cared any less about the repercussions his choice of location might draw. What inflamed him was the fact that Trevor Carter had made the whole process blow past like a tenuous wisp of smoke caught in a raging whirlwind. Fast, fast, too fast. He’d wanted a prolonged experience. Each time he had a killing to carry out, he looked forward to the adventure with feverish delight. But how could this be memorable to him when his victim had died in less than three minutes?

He dragged the body from the foot of the desk to the vicinity of the toilet entrance, unlocked the door, and opened it.