Scene 11
31 May 2023
DING
CLICK–CLACK
DING
The ancient, resonant chimes of a grandfather clock echoed, impossibly clear, in the sudden, suffocating darkness. The sound pulsed, a mocking rhythm of time starting over.
BLAAAAAAAAAAARE!
The deafening wail of an air horn ripped through the quiet, and Glenn jolted awake. He slammed his head against the window, his breath catching in a panicked choke.
He was on a conventional green school bus, parked in an empty asphalt lot next to a large, imposing building surrounded by dense, dark trees. He was wearing casual clothes, a damp hoodie and jeans, not the thin gray uniform of the facility. He felt the soft cushioning of the seat beneath him, and the metallic smell of bleach and copper from the utility closet was gone, replaced by the stale, musty smell of old vinyl and cheap disinfectant.
He sat in the sixth row to the right, by the window. Next to him, a lanky kid with shaggy brown hair was already awake, fidgeting with nervous energy, his gaze fixed on the seat in front of him. It was Anthony.
The air horn stopped with a sputtering sound, leaving a ringing silence.
"At last, we've made it to your new home, gentlemen."
A gruff, horse-like voice boomed from the front of the bus.
"And without any casualties." The man in the front, Sheriff Rogers, continued. He was a broad figure wearing a black raincoat and a pair of dark sunglasses that completely obscured his eyes.
One by one, fifteen boys, Glenn among them, shuffled out into the open. The rain was a cold, steady curtain, already soaking their casual clothes. Glenn shivered, pulling his hoodie tighter. They stood in a loose semicircle, their eyes fixed on the Sheriff and the large, foreboding building ahead.
Silence stretched for a long, uncomfortable moment as confusion replaced the shock of the abrupt arrival. Every boy looked around—at the desolate parking lot, the dark trees, the gray sky—before the Sheriff spoke again, his voice cutting through the drumming rain.
"It's advisable for you all to listen now as this won't be repeated again." He paused, letting the severity of his tone sink in. "Each and every one of you are here today to change. To BE better than before. Some of you have addictions, some of you just down right insane, there's no guaranteed cure to that. Only a few are lucky. And you could be that few, IF you cooperate."
The front doors of the building, massive and made of dark wood, swung open, revealing the bright interior. A line of men in pressed blue uniforms stepped out and lined up silently behind the Sheriff.
"Now, when you head into that building, you each will be handed a new set of clothes to wear. Every. Single. Day. You are not allowed to wear anything else, not allowed to make any changes to your clothes, let alone, wear any jewelry what so ever, as MOST of you... are thieves."
A low, confident chuckle broke the tense silence, coming from the middle of the group.
The Sheriff's head tilted slightly, his sunglasses unmoving. "You have something to say, Mr. Patts?"
The boy who laughed was tall and appeared older than the others. His skin was the color of rich, dark coffee beans, smooth and unblemished. A vivid, fire-engine red bandana was knotted loosely around his neck.
"No, Sheriff."
"Good! Now, as I was saying, you all have access to roam around in the building. You are not allowed to have any device on your person as that can too be stolen and defeats the purpose of why you're here."
A lean boy with round-frame glasses, standing next to Glenn, raised his arm up high, standing on his tippy-toes.
"Buh but suh-suh sheriff h-how will we talk to our parents? L-Let them know that we are okay?"
"Visiting hours exist, son. Every Sunday."
The boy with the glasses slowly dropped his arm, looking around at the others. Under the collective gaze of the group, he started fidgeting, holding his arms tightly and pulling his shoulders high so that they touched his earlobes.
Suddenly, another boy shouted, "W-when can we get inside?! It's fucking raining out here man!"
A second voice agreed, "Yeah! Some of us don't fuck with the rain," and a chorus of complaints began to fill the air, blending with the sound of the rain and the low rumble of thunder.
The Sheriff's voice outshone them all. "RIGHT. Make one full line and head on in, SLOOOWLY as more of the rules will be read to you along with other things such as tests for any weapons, substances, allergies, everything."