Change Of Season (9 page)

“I feel lost already.”

“You’re overthinking it, babe.  We’re under the building now, right? We need to find a stairwell up.   No big deal.  We’ll be just like Angie and Winona in
Girl, Interrupted
.”

“And I assume you’re Angie?” Autumn retorted, smiling.

“Uh, yeah.  I’m the bitch with a heart of ice in this duo.  You care
too
much, Red.”  Miraj studied their first junction, then shook her head.  “Next one.  No doors here.”

Their feet lightly splashed as they bypassed the first turns, pausing anew at a second branch.  Casting the white beam down the right corridor, Autumn spotted a steel door near the end of it. 

“Let’s try here,” she murmured, striding quickly towards it and yanking hard upon the handle.

Nothing.  Locked.

“Let’s try behind door number two,” Miraj suggested, jerking her thumb behind her.

Autumn spun, her light catching a similar door down the opposing corridor.  “Of course.  Evil goes left.”

“You and your fucking video game theories!” Miraj laughed as they doubled back.

“If that door opens, it’s more proof that I’m right, and you’re just pissed I noticed it first,” Autumn countered, flipping her hair back out of her eyes.  “And now, let’s see what we have…”

It took several tugs, the last with her foot planted against the door jamb for leverage, to open the door, its hinges squealing in protest.  With a triumphant hum, Autumn jerked her head towards their find.

“Yeah, yeah.  Let’s see where they actually go,” Miraj replied, taking the dusty steps two at a time.

The next doorway, situated to their left on the first landing, was locked with a Medeco cylinder which, as Miraj pointed out, was near impossible to pick.  A second short flight of stairs carried them to an unlocked entryway with an old, wobbly knob embedded in the chipped paint and steel.  Gingerly turning it, Autumn pushed outward, eyes widening in surprise.

“What the hell is this?” she murmured.

Miraj slipped past her, surveying the wooden ceiling and various cables and boxes.  “My best guess?  Storage passage beneath the stage.”

The flashlight beam danced over the dusty floor, noting candy wrappers, ribbons and what appeared to be confetti.  “But why would there be a passage from the maintenance tunnels to here?”

“This building was redone, right?  Upgraded with fancy alumni dollars?  Maybe the stage didn’t always have a hollow floor.”  Miraj shrugged, turning to her friend. “Try another stairwell, or try a way out of here?”

Autumn bit her lip, weighing the options briefly.  “It would probably be easier to find a stairwell from the building down, rather than guessing at the right one
up
.  Maybe we should try to get out of here, find a way to a corridor or backstage even?”

With a wink, Miraj replied, “Ding!  That’s my girl.  C’mon, let’s try towards the centre.  Maybe they have some trap door dealio.”

The girls crept deeper into the musty space, stifling coughs and slightly hunched to avoid slamming into low beams.  The ceiling clearance was less than six feet, and using her own height as a guide, maybe five-nine at most.  Dust clouds swarmed their sneakers and clung to their legs as Autumn swung the light upward, scanning for a hinge or latch of some kind – anything to denote a way out.  A shimmer to her right caught her attention, and she spun, grinning at her find.

“Bingo.”

Miraj followed her gaze and darted forward, studying the square hatch.  “I don’t see a lock or handle.”

“That’s because it’s electrical,” Autumn answered, flashing the light over a simple remote with four buttons, nestled in a holder affixed to a nearby beam.  “It’s boarding school, Miraj.  Make the students do physical labour?  Never!”

“What the hell was I thinking?”  Miraj laughed, reaching for the remote.  “Gimme light; I’ll get this elevator working in a jiffy.”

“Jiffy?  Okay there,
Pleasantville!
”  Autumn teased.

“Bitch, you work with a sixty year-old waitress all day and then come talk to me,” Miraj grumbled.  “And remember, I still punch in full colour.  Aha!”  With a press of a button, the large hatch began to descend slowly.

They didn’t bother dropping the platform to the ground; halfway was enough to hop aboard, Miraj taking great delight in their ascension.  In a minute of scrambling, Miraj located a matching remote control on a wall panel just beyond stage left, and Autumn tucked theirs back in its sleeve.  The platform met stage once more, and the girls cut backstage, giggling as they studied lighting equipment and the beginnings of set construction.

“As much fun as that was, it’s not practical for stealth missions,” Miraj noted.  “There’s so much electrical bullshit back here that there has to be another way down into the tunnels.”

“There’s also the film editing studios upstairs, and there have to be bathrooms.  Those need connections to the sewers, right?”

Miraj nodded.  “I’m betting on at least two other ways down.  Is there a basement?”

“No clue,” Autumn whispered.  “Here’s a general stairwell.  Maybe it goes down?”

But it didn’t.  It only ventured upwards a single long flight, towards an access for stagehands to the lighting rigs.  A second door was an access hall towards a set of dressing rooms.  A third was bolted with a Medeco lock, not worth Miraj’s time in breaking through.  Giving up on the theatre, they migrated out into the main foyer and slinked up a side stairwell to the lounge area that Autumn often used to write during normal hours. 

“Let’s take five. I’m tired,” Miraj declared, flopping on the large black sofa.  “How’s Casteel Juvenile Detention Centre?”

“It’s fine, mostly,” Autumn began, slumping in the opposing chair.  “All of the blue is annoying.  Most of the teachers are cool, especially the Creative Writing one.  Oh, and I told you about my Nurse Ratched, right?”

“Yes.  She sounds spectacularly bitchy.  I’d love to be a student here, just to torment her.  Constant pranks.”

“Channeling your inner Weasley?”

“You know it, Hermione.  I bet she wears fluffy pink outfits away from here.  We should try and find another address for her.  Take pictures of her with her pet poodle.”

“Poodle?” Autumn laughed.

“Dude, those dogs are the antichrist.  Why do you think rich bitches like them so much?  What about the guys and gals of Casteel?  Any hotties?”

“Not interested in that, M, and you know it.”

Miraj shrugged.  “The Goddess gave you tits and ass.  It’s a shame to waste them.  Are any of them cool enough to drink with, at least?”

“There’s one,” Autumn admitted, smiling faintly.  “You’d like her too, I think.  She’s a Drama major, and definitely shares your sense of snark.  But I have to establish boundaries.”

“Why?  Is she a boarding school fauxbian?”

Autumn shook her head sadly.  “Not everyone can take care of themselves like you.  And if
he
ever comes back into town, who will he target?  Do the math.  I’m a liability to anyone.”

Miraj groaned, leaning forward and slapping Autumn’s arm.  “Oh will you freaking stop already?  Why the hell does this douche get to control your life still?  Is he here?  No.  And if he shows, you call me up and I’ll take care of him.”  Her expression softening, she added, “I can’t always be here for you.  You need people or you’ll go crazy locked away in Joke-ville.  You’re trying to blend, right?  Be the scenery?”

“Yeah, that’s the plan.  But she noticed me right away -”

“So?  One friend is not a cotillion.  Having no friends?  That’s total Columbine.  That’s Ally Sheedy in
The Breakfast Club
.  But one or two friends?  You just look studious and choosy.  Let her in a little.  Have some fun.  Spike the punch at the prom.”  Miraj winked, and Autumn giggled.  “God, isn’t the shrink supposed to be telling you all this?”

“I’m afraid to talk to her.”

“Why?  Is she a bitch?”

Autumn shook her head quickly, shifting sideways and dangling her feet over the arm of the chair.  “Not at all.  She plays music during sessions – good music.  She doesn’t like the Headmistress, either.  But it’s scary, you know?  She’s still a stranger, and I just… Mom and Dad can’t ever know.  I’ve told you that before.  I also just don’t… wanna go back there.  Moving forward is better.  Isn’t that what they say?”

“Not if you’re dragging your ex like Marley’s chains, knocking on Scrooge’s door.  Look at me, babe:  I travel light.  I left home with a backpack.  As much as they’ve put me through, I don’t let it hang on me.  Life is mine to live and enjoy.  You’re spinning in circles, Red.  It’s time to cut a few ties – which means actually going up to those ropes, saying, ‘Hey, what’s up?  Fuck you very much’ and cutting them.  That’s her job, you know?  She’s the scissors.”

Autumn stared a moment, then laughed.  “Miraj, you’re high.”

“So?”

The two girls laughed, heads silhouetted in moonbeams cast from the adjacent window.  Autumn felt the knots in her stomach loosen and uncoil, her body itself sighing in relief. 
Miraj always knows what to say
.  Her friend had a point:  if she didn’t put an end to
his
legacy in her heart,
he
would haunt her forever. 
He
lurked in every shadow, hissed in every creak and moan of her home.  This was her shelter now, her bastion of safety and sanity. 
He can’t get you here.  He doesn’t belong here
.

“It’s so good to see you,” Autumn whispered hoarsely.

“And you’ll see more of me.  Once I sort out my money sitch, we’ll make plans to -”

A shuffling sound.  A thump.  The jangle of keys, a sinister wind chime.

“Security!” Autumn hissed.

“Follow,” Miraj ordered under her breath, darting south, towards a gleaming
Exit
sign.

Aututmn pulled her hood up as she scampered behind her, taking the stairs briskly upwards in pursuit.  Her heart echoed her feet,
thump-skip-thump-skip-thump
, as Miraj led her to the top floor, shoving her way into the dark corridor.  A scattering of offices and unmarked rooms greeted them as Miraj headed west, crossing the building and carrying them to where, from the tiny window, Autumn could see their initial entry point. 
We’re above the tunnels.  There’s got to be another way in!
  The stage would be far too risky, far too noisy.

Another stairwell lay around a sharp corner and Miraj took it, gesturing for a quieter travel.  Light steps, dancing along the concrete, carried them back to the main floor – and revealed another door, to their left.  Autumn tugged hard, chuckling as it fell open.

The smell of damp pipes, of mildew and rust, greeted them.

“Jackpot!” Miraj whispered excitedly, plunging down the stairs.

“Evil goes left, bitch,” Autumn pointed out, grinning.

A dozen steps later, they were nestled within the maintenance tunnels, and Autumn flipped her flashlight on, panning the corridors.  Nothing looked familiar at first, until Miraj reminded her of the obvious:

“We went left when we came in.  Maybe this was right of there?”

Autumn exhaled the breath she’d been holding
.  Of course!
  They had been directly above the exterior entryway moments before taking the narrow stairwell to ground.  Panning her light each way once more, a pipe some distance away on the right seemed familiar now, the streaks of grease marring the porcelain hued finish very distinct. 

“This way.”

They moved quickly, dodging a murky puddle and what was possibly the remains of a squirrel or a mangled Ugg boot.  The light danced along the walls, highlighting neon green and crimson wires – and then, a tiny flight of stairs with fresh footprints tracked in the dirt.

“Do you see what I see?” Autumn asked.

“Yeah:  evidence you should have smeared away already,” Miraj quipped.

“Ha ha, Miraj.”  A quick peek out the door at the top revealed the pristinely pruned trees of the Casteel quad. 

“You found your route inside now.”

“True.”

“But it was to the right,” Miraj teased.

“Through a door on the left,” Autumn countered.  “And technically, there was a way in via the left tunnel, too.”

“But my way’s faster.  Which way to your digs from here?”

“We have to do a loop with the trees, unless you’re feeling extra ballsy, in which case we dash across the road over there.  You’ll love the latter: we pass the boys’ dorm.”

Miraj licked her lips.  “A midnight snack!  Lead on, MacDuff.”

Autumn sighed, exasperated.  “Lay.”

“Well yeah,” Miraj whispered.  “That’s the point.”

“No, you big tramp: it’s
lay on
, MacDuff.  Didn’t you actually read
Macbeth
?”

Miraj snorted.  “No!”

“And yet you pretend to be the brains of this outfit,” Autumn muttered, leading Miraj through the trees running towards Trudeau Hall.