As the taxi pulled up to Bradman Hall, Robert Johnson peered out, reflecting that the building seemed small and inauspicious compared to his imagined impression. The Principal of the college of residence had described it as spacious, old-fashioned and comfortable. What Robert saw as he stepped out of the taxi and grabbed his suitcases from the boot was certainly old-fashioned, but by no means did it look spacious. The old brick building was three storeys high, with lead-light windows, some of which stood open despite the persistent rain which drenched him as he approached the iron gate in the high brick wall surrounding the college. The gate squeaked as he pushed through it and stepped up the red paved path to the front door. He knocked, precariously holding his two suitcases, pot plant (which looked in imminent danger of expiring - which it indeed was) and tennis racket in his arms.
Receiving no answer, he pushed the door with one elbow and it promptly swung open to reveal an attractive foyer. Robert moved in, glancing around for any sign of life. Even though the university term started the following day, Bradman Hall seemed deserted. Adjoining the foyer was what appeared to be a noticeboard and mail room, with rows of pigeon holes bearing the name of each student and tutor. With a tired sigh, Rob dropped his luggage, shook the rain from his clothes and moved closer to the noticeboard above the mail boxes. There were photos of each years residents - fresh, young faces full of excitement and promise. He paused for a moment, and swung around to check the noticeboard on the opposite wall, but turned back again, puzzled. The photo of the previous year was missing, which was strange, particularly as the dates on the existing photos indicated that they had been taken at the start of each year. And where were all the students?
Through the mail room Robert could see what seemed to be a large television room, which was also empty. He stepped forward to take a closer look at the recreation room, lost in thought.
"Hello, can I help you?"
Robert started and looked around. A small, dark haired woman stood in the entrance to the mail room, her arms crossed. Rob smiled cautiously.
"Oh, hi, sorry. I'm Robert Johnson. The new tutor," he added hopefully.
"I'm Mrs Rye. The Principal. We spoke on the phone, I believe."
Robert hastened forward, his hand extended as Mrs Rye smiled stiffly. He observed as he came close to the petite woman that the smile, though seemingly sincere, didn't quite reach her eyes, which were dark and deep set. I wonder how old she is, Ron thought absently, then drew a sharp breath as something caught his eye. As the Principal turned to lead him into her office and the light from the front windows fell on her face, the woman's eyes appeared to flash bright blue, although Robert had been sure when he shook Mrs Rye's hand that her eyes had been very dark brown. Mrs Rye turned back, raising an eyebrow at him. Robert merely smiled and picked up his belongings.
Some time later, after enduring the standard 'this is who we are, this is what we do, and if you sleep with any students you'll be shot' pep-talk, Mrs Rye gave Robert a quick tour of the college. Most of the rooms were small, pokey closets with larger areas for older students and tutors like himself. The Principal showed him to his room and instructed him tersely to be at dinner at 6pm.
"And it's a pleasure to meet you too," Rob said wryly to the closed door of his room after she slammed it behind her. With another tired sigh, he set about the task of settling in and unpacking.
At six Robert wandered down to the dining room and was shocked to discover that although merely hours before the building had appeared deserted, the dining room was bustling with activity. Dozens of young men and women ate, grouped together in murmuring sets at the wooden tables, or lined up at the cafeteria-like counter. The room vibrated with the murmur of voices, laughter and the sounds of dozens of people eating. He lined up for his food and then cast around for a seat, feeling more than a trifle foreign and out of place. Finally his eyes came to rest on a seat next to a young female student with red hair, who sat at one end of an otherwise empty table. "Got to start somewhere," Rob murmured to himself, and with a deep breath approached the table. He'd been a first year student himself only a few years before, and he was now studying for his Masters degree in chemistry and had agreed to act as a tutor at Bradman Hall in return for bed and board. He still felt a low tremor in his stomach as he walked up to the table, and he cursed himself silently for allowing the situation to intimidate him.
Robert sat down heavily and was grateful for the low undercurrent of noise as his plate clattered when he clumsily placed it on the table. Nonetheless the sudden noise startled the girl, who's head jerked up from its deep concentration on the food on her plate.
"I'm sorry," Robert smiled meekly and stuck out his hand. "Robert Johnson. I'm tutoring chemistry this term," he mumbled in explanation as the girl, whose features were sharp and freckled, gave him one bony hand in return.
"Samantha. I'm studying for an Arts degree. English literature, history and philosophy." Robert smiled again, this time to himself, as all the standard Arts degree jokes came back to him. More useful as toilet paper was his favourite, but given the serious expression on Samantha's face and the almost reproachful look in her green eyes, Rob decided that discretion was indeed the better part of valour and kept his silence. Instead, he smiled at her and began his meal. Almost as if she understood that he had decided against hurting her feelings, and in acknowledgment of the truce this signified, Samantha began chatting cheerily about Bradman Hall, the new friends she had met, and soon the two of them were laughing and joking like old friends.
Two weeks later Robert had settled in well, and spent every second lunch break with Samantha, who seemed to feel relieved to have another new person to talk to, who had the same questions and problems as she did. His tutorials were going well, his own studies were progressing, and he was beginning to feel at home in his small room. Everything was going extremely well, in fact. That was, until Rob saw the bones.
Each week the tenants of Bradman Hall were required to do certain chores, such as cleaning the toilets, kitchen duty or bin duty. It fell to Robert to do the bin duty for the left wing of the college, while another tutor did the other side. He'd collected the waste paper in a large plastic bin and was bringing it out to the large incinerator which stood next to the tennis courts behind the college, when he saw ahead of him another tutor, who's name he didn't know, piling material into the burner.
As Robert approached, his footsteps all but hidden by the sound of the crackling incinerator, he opened his mouth to greet the other man when his eye was caught by something within the incinerator. As the tutor reached up and pulled the sprung door open, Robert saw a pile of dirty white objects in the flames, and jumped back in shock as he realised what they were. Stumbling backwards he knocked against a pile of empty bins, sending them flying noisily in all directions. The man at the incinerator spun round, startled by the noise, and as he turned, the sunlight caught the colour in his eyes and they flashed brilliant blue. The tutor turned his eyes, now deep brown, to Robert's face, and they narrowed suspiciously. With a clang, the tutor let the door of the incinerator go, and stood motionlessly watching Robert, who lay panting slightly amidst the tumbled bins, his own collection of rubbish now scattered around him. "Um. Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you. Clumsy, eh?" Robert stammered nervously, collecting his thoughts and trying to get up. The unknown tutor reached toward him suddenly and Robert flinched back, expecting a blow. Instead the tutor reached forward and grasped his arm, pulling him bodily to his feet. The tall man let go of Rob's arm, and with another long stare, he moved off, carrying the now empty bin, and disappeared around the left wing of the college. Robert let out a shuddering sigh, wondering if what he'd seen had been real, or imagined. Had he seen that flash of blue in the man's eye? Had he really seen a pile of white objects in the incinerator? Hesitantly he approached the burner and peered in, the heat hitting his face like a solid object. His stomach turned - yes, the pile was there. Rob backed up again, and remembering his chore, he scrabbled around on the gravel collecting his scattered papers. With one last look into the incinerator, he threw the papers in and slammed the door shut, closing his eyes to block out the burning vision, only to see it imprinted on the inside of his eyelids. How could he have seen what he did?
That afternoon Robert found himself sitting on his small bed, staring blankly at the opposite wall. Questions about the incident at the incinerator filled his mind and by dinner time he was beginning to doubt his own senses. The unknown tutor hadn't challenged him - hadn't mentioned the contents of the incinerator at all. Had the tall man with the strange eyes known that he'd seen the bones? Surely, if they had really been there, he'd have tried to explain them away. Were they human bones?
Eventually Robert stood up and walked downstairs to the dining room, although he doubted that his stomach would allow him to eat. As he waited in line he glanced up and his heart leapt to his throat as he spotted the tutor from the incinerator two people in front of him in the line. Terrified, Robert stared at the back of the other man's head, willing him to not turn around. They shuffled forward, and to Robert's dismay 'Bones' as he had begun to refer to him in his mind, dropped the fork he was holding and as he leant down to retrieve it, turned slightly and saw Robert. He paused to give Robert a knowing smile and slight wave of one hand. As the tall man stood back up his brown eyes flashed blue again in the light from the overhead bulb. I thought his eyes were brown, Robert pondered, his fear crowding back, as he realised that he'd been a fool to doubt his senses. He thought again of the pile of bones that had seemed so real - and worse, so human - and felt sour bile rise in the back of his throat. His hunger finally chased away he left the line, almost throwing his plate back on the pile.
Rob hurried back to his room, relieved to be away from the tutor with the strange eyes. Where else had he seen eyes like that? He couldn't think. Was he becoming paranoid? He came to the conclusion that he needed to speak to someone about what had happened at the incinerator, and feeling a little better for having made a decision to act, Robert went off in search of Samantha.
"Bones, Robert? Are you sure?" Samantha's tone was altogether too doubtful for Robert's taste.
"Yes, bones. A big pile of them. That tall dark-haired tutor put them in there. I practically caught him doing it!" Robert's chin jutted out defensively and he stared down at his hands.
"Why would a tutor be burning bones? What possible reason could he have?"
"Yes, I know, I've been trying to work that out myself. And there was something about his eyes..." Robert stopped, feeling a little self-conscious, not sure if he'd said too much. Sam didn't believe him about the bones, so why would she believe him about the tutor's eyes? A flash of memory suddenly appeared in his mind and he remembered where else he'd seen that strange effect of the light. Mrs Rye, the Principal - her eyes had done the same thing when he first arrived. Without hesitating he recounted the two incidents and waited breathlessly for Sam's reaction. She stared at him, as if searching for some sign that this was a joke, and apparently finding none, shrugged her shoulders resignedly and smiled.
"OK. So what does it all mean?"
"I don't know." Robert let out an exasperated sigh. "Maybe nothing. Maybe lots of stuff. Maybe the bones in the incinerator were animal bones. Maybe he's a biology tutor. They certainly looked like human bones to me. But why didn't that tutor try to cover it up? Defend himself, or something?"
Sam patted his clenched hands reassuringly and it struck Robert (not for the first time) that for such a young woman she was extremely mature and in her own way, attractive. He looked at her and for a moment frankly admired the way the evening sun streaming through the window of her room set her red hair ablaze, and the way the same light caught the impossibly deep green of her eyes and made them shine.
"Robert, are you OK?"
Robert snapped back and was embarrassed to see that Sam had noticed his open staring and was blushing. He could feel his own face heating up as he apologised for 'tuning out' for a moment. Samantha smiled shyly.
"All I can do is keep an eye out, OK? I'll let you know if I find out anything." Sam shuffled some papers on her desk, obviously signalling for him to leave, which with some reluctance, he did.
"Thanks, let me know anything - no matter how silly it seems!" Robert felt a little awkward as they parted in her doorway. He put out his hand, not really sure why, and Sam took it, gave it a little peremptory shake then quickly pulled him towards her and gave him a peck on the cheek.
"See ya," she said swiftly, shutting the door before he could react. He shot a quick guilty look up and down the corridor to make sure that their parting had gone unobserved, his mind going back to Mrs Rye's lecture. Confident that the hall was empty, he trotted down the corridor to the stairs up to his own room, feeling pleased with himself, the events of the day temporarily forgotten.
That night Samantha was invited at the last minute to 'High Table', a system by which each student was invited by the Principal to sit at her table during formal dinner. The group of invitees attended pre-dinner drinks in her quarters which were adjacent to the college. Mrs Rye's table sat on a raised platform at one end of the dining room.
As Robert sat down to his meal that night he tried to catch Sam's eye, but she seemed to be listening intently to something Mrs Rye was saying, although Rob thought this a little strange given that he knew Sam hated the Principal at first sight. Perhaps she's doing research for me, he thought, and settled down to his dinner.
It was several days later that Rob finally caught up with Samantha again. He was walking down the hallway towards her room when she bolted around the corner and ran straight into him. She wa saved from a nasty fall as Robert grabbed hold of her arm, which Sam tersely withdrew once she regained her balance.
"Sorry," she blurted and made to pass by.
"Hang on Sam. You've been avoiding me for days. Why? Was it the thing about the bones? Is that what's bothering you? I'm not crazy, you know. I did see them!" Robert stared at her, his hands on his hips. "Let's go for a walk outside," he grabbed hold of her arm again and led her to the outside door, ignoring her protests. Once outside in the sunshine of the college carpark they stopped walking and Robert let go of her arm, turning to face her.
"OK, so what's all this about?"
"I know you're not crazy." The flat statement took Rob by surprise.
"How can you be so sure? If someone came to me with a story like that, I'd call the funny farm and have you taken away. How do you know?"
"I just do." Samantha said while staring at the ground, moving uncertainly from one foot to the other. Her voice held none of its usual humour, or even its occasional anger or bitterness. It was flat, lifeless.
"So why have you been avoiding me?" Robert pressed on.
"Because Mrs Rye said that if I have anything more to do with you we'll both be thrown out of halls," Samantha recited in a dull monotone, as if she'd rehearsed the line so many times that it had lost its meaning. Never the less, Robert's heart sank as he remembered their parting kiss - a mere peck, though it was - and his guilty glance up and down the hallway. It'd been empty. Or had it?
"OK, I'm sorry. I'm sorry this had to happen," Robert replied weakly with an unhappy shrug. "Anything I can do to help?"
Finally Samantha looked up at him, and the look on her face was full of anger.
"Just stay away from me and forget about those stupid bones!"
Robert recoiled as if slapped and stared at her as with a flick of her head she turned away and hurried back inside without a backwards glance. Robert felt his gut knot as the light caught the brilliant blue of her eyes. Hadn't he admired them, just a few short days before, for their impossibly deep shade of green? Robert passed the rest of the day in his room, pondering the recent events which had shaken him and even left him doubting his own sanity. Perhaps he just needed a rest - or perhaps he'd be better off moving out of halls altogether and finding a flat by himself. Still confused and feeling betrayed and lonely from Sam's reaction, Rob decided to embark on a long afternoon walk to clear his head, and as he passed the mail room he noticed a beige envelope sticking out of his pigeon hole. Within it he found an invitation to that evening's High Table. He was puzzled by his own reaction to the small, cream coloured piece of paper with its neat typed message. He read it with a mixture of excitement and dread. Perhaps it was time to tell Mrs Rye of his fears - or at least straighten her out about Sam and himself. But what was the point? Obviously Sam wanted nothing more to do with him. She probably does think I'm mad, Rob thought with a frown. And maybe she's right. Besides, the last thing he felt like doing was sitting down to dinner with people he hardly knew and having to make polite conversation. Stuffing the paper into his pocket, Robert strode out the door, resolving to deal with the whole thing after a nice head-clearing stroll.
Rob returned in the evening no more enlightened than when he departed. He'd walked around the entire university three times, trying not to think about Bradman Hall, but the thoughts kept pressing in on him, crowding his mind. He tried to come to some clear decision but to no avail. In fact, he felt more confused and depressed than ever. As he sat down on his cramped bed Robert heard a scrunching sound from his trouser pocket. Puzzled, he reached in and pulled out the source of the sound. The invitation! Of course! But there was no way he could go to High Table feeling the way he did.
After three rings Mrs Rye answered the phone, and didn't seem at all surprised that it was Robert. In fact he had the distinct impression that the Principal had been expecting his call. When he tried to make his apologies for the dinner, she wouldn't hear of it.
"No, Robert, I think you should come. Especially if you're feeling... distressed," she seemed to be choosing her words carefully.
"What makes you think I'm upset?" Robert's voice cracked.
"Well, I know some things have been bothering you lately, and I believe that we can help you... resolve them. So come, won't you?"
"Ok. Yes, OK." Robert replied absently, replacing the receiver. How did she know about how he felt? Was it that obvious, or did Samantha tell her? Rob didn't really care - what mattered was that she had the answers. Mrs Rye had an explanation for everything, and he'd hear it at dinner. He felt relief wash over him and his legs almost gave way beneath him. Trembling, he returned to his room and prepared for dinner.
The feeling of relief stayed with Robert all the way to Mrs Rye's door later that evening. He knocked politely and waited for a response. His smile faded as the Principal opened the door and he spotted 'Bones' standing behind her with a glass in his hand. Talking to the tall tutor was Samantha, who also held a drink.
"Good evening, Robert. I'm glad you changed your mind and decided to attend our little gathering. Come in." Mrs Rye opened the door wide and Robert entered, his mind numb. Why was Sam here? Hadn't she had her turn at High Table already? And wasn't he supposed to keep away from her? As he moved into the room the other people in the neatly decorated parlour came into view. Another tutor, Mark and a female student with long dark hair were sitting on a floral couch which sat in front of the empty fireplace dominating the small room. They turned and nodded to him, with knowing smiles.
"Now, Robert," Mrs Rye turned to him and handed him a drink. "What's been bothering you? We're all friends here," a small tight smile twisted the tiny woman's features. It was obvious to Rob that she was unaccustomed to such an expression.
"Well, I..." Rob glanced nervously at Bones, who had moved closer to hear him. Suddenly he noticed that the other who'd been seated on the couch had risen and were moving towards him, expressions of curiosity (or was it mock interest?) on their faces. Only Samantha held back, sullenly watching him with undisguised suspicion.
"I don't feel that this is the correct forum, Mrs Rye. Perhaps your other guests would be bored listening to my dull old problems." Robert tried to smile and failed. The circle of faces now around him made him uncomfortable. There was something conspiratorial about their matching knowing, understanding smiles. Oh god, he thought, if that doesn't sound like a symptom of paranoia, I'm a wood duck!
"All right then Robert, if you won't talk, then I will." The smile on Mrs Rye's face disappeared entirely. "My friend here," she gestured towards Bones, who smiled even more, "tells me you saw him at the incinerator. Samantha informed me that you had suspicions about what was going on here. About me."
Robert stared at her, dumbfounded.
"Well, I'm afraid you're absolutely right." For the first time Robert saw what looked like a genuine smile on the Principal's face, and it was the vilest thing he'd ever seen.
"There are wonderful things happening here. But that has very little to do with you. But before you go - " the woman paused for effect, "I can answer a few questions that may have been plaguing you. Yes, those were human bones in the incinerator. If you had looked again a few days later you would have seen those of your beloved Samantha there too."
Robert's jaw dropped open and he made to point at the girl who was standing behind her.
"She is one of us. Samantha is dead, I'm afraid. All these people," she waved one small hand at the circle around him, "are dead. And now we look and act like them. We are them."
Rob swallowed, trying to take it all in.
"But what do you do with them?" he whispered, not really sure he wanted to know. "Where I come from we waste nothing. Meat is very scarce," the Principal replied ominously.
"So you killed the real Principal?"
"No, not at all. I was here to begin with. I have always been one of us."
Robert stared from one face to the next looking for some hint that perhaps this was a tasteless college joke of some kind, but found none. The thing that was Sam was smiling darkly now, and as he looked at Bones the tall man raised his glass in a mock toast. Robert was trying to think of something to do, something to say, some way of escaping this nightmare, when the lights went out, and all hell broke loose.
------------------------------------------
It took several seconds for Robert to realise that he was already out in the corridor, running for his life towards the front door. He ran out into the night, his mind racing only slightly faster than his feet. Where should he go? Seemingly his feet knew what they were doing (as his hand had done, finding the light switch behind him completely without his control) as they carried him at high speed towards Princes College, which stood adjacent to Bradman Hall.
Hearing noise behind him Rob stole a furtive glance backwards and saw the High Table group clustered in the doorway, watching his flight. It crossed Rob's mind that surely they should be chasing him - or at least distressed by his escape. Instead they simply stood there, now silent, and looked on with small, malevolent smiles on their faces.. His feet must not have known entirely what they were doing, as Rob looked forward again only to trip on a low running wooden fence which separated the two colleges. He hit the ground hard and lay winded for what seemed like an age, while he waited for Bones' warm breath to meet his neck, but none came. Rob clambered back to his feet and staggered on, again puzzled by his would-be pursuers lack of action.
Finally, out of breath and trembling with shock, Robert reached the door of Princes College and staggered in. A student who had been passing stared at him for a moment, and ran off, presumably to get the Principal. Rob sat down heavily on a chair in the lobby, his mind reeling, running over events in the other Principal's quarters again and again. Finally his reverie was broken by the appearance of a tall, grey-haired man with glasses and kind, brown eyes, who introduced himself as Mr Hardy, the Principal of the college. His breath beginning to return, Robert thankfully followed him into the office and the two men sat opposite each other, the Principal's desk between them.
"I'm sorry to drag you away from your dinner," Rob finally gasped.
"Not at all, not at all. It's part of my job to help people who need advice, or assistance. And you, judging by your appearance, are one of those people," the older man said kindly.
What could Rob tell him? It all sounded crazy - he still wasn't convinced he was sane himself for that matter. But the monstrous plan at Bradman Hall had to be stopped. There was nothing for it but to start at the beginning. And so he did.
"... and they eat the students and replace them with - I don't know - doubles or something." Robert finally came to the end, the last of his energy draining as he finished. He slumped in the chair, waiting for a response. For a few moments the Principal simply sat there, watching, a thoughtful expression on his lined face.
"Well, Robert, I don't think you're crazy. In fact I know you're not." Where had Rob heard that said before?
"You came to the right place, Robert. I certainly can help you. I most certainly can." Mr Hardy smiled again, stood up and moved behind Robert, who heard a soft 'snick' as the older man locked the door.
"Oh yes, you came to the right place," the Principal murmured as Robert turned to see the smile on the man's face replaced by a frightening grin of glee as the light from the small ornamental lamp on the desk caught his eyes, refracting brilliant blue. As Mr Hardy advanced on Robert, his grin grew broader.
"Oh, yes, definitely the right place."