My mind quickly, as quickly as my mind could at least, ran through everything I knew about what just happened to me. I needed to assess the damage their joke had done, so I could figure out what came next.
I'd had some sort of fit.
I blacked out.
Everyone left me.
I was pretty sure someone had set off stink bombs, or the toilets had exploded with weeks of teenage cafeteria-food waste. Judging by the faintness of the stench, the gaseous plague had happened hours or maybe days ago.
How long had I been out?
With a few muttered cuss words (I cuss too much), I carefully and slowly got back to my feet. I picked up my book bag and headed into the hallway only to find there was no one left there either.
Great.
They left me.
Lying on the floor no less.
Weren’t there laws about that kind of thing? Wasn’t the news filled with stories of bus drivers or parents who left kids sleeping in heated, sun-blazed vehicles of death? Did the rules of human decency change to include that it was perfectly acceptable to leave a guy lying on the floor while he was having a fit?
I knew it was Friday and that equated to a mad dash for the exits—even for the teachers. Especially the teachers. But that didn’t excuse leaving a fitful guy writhing on the floor. Even for laughs.
I pulled out my cell phone to text Jenna. She at least would have waited for me...
Great.
The damn thing didn’t have a single reception bar. Which, unless the world had ended, was strange. I spent the better part of Spanish texting with Jenna all the things I wanted to do to her since her parents were going to be away for the weekend. I even said a few dirty things in Spanish. At least I think I did.
What the hell was going on?
As I shuffled my feet towards the exit I almost fell. I wasn’t the clumsy sort. Star athlete and all. Looking down, I noticed the floor covered in an inch deep layer of dirt.
The janitors were going to be pissed.
Things were getting really weird.
Stephen King weird.
I picked up speed as I made my way to the exit, continuing to hope this was the most elaborate prank ever. Homecoming was soon. I was All-State. Maybe the school decided to punk their favorite football player. Like big time. History-making.
That’s how adoration works.
They must have drugged me.
Roofies seemed a little extreme, but hell I was a popular guy.
As I moved closer to the exit, the stench that was only a mild annoyance before became increasingly stronger. A wave of bile began to crawl its way up my throat and my nose began to burn with a putrid smell that was worse than any combination of rotten milk and teenage shit that I could ever imagine. I started to cough, trying in vain to hack up the smell that tried to mix itself with my taste buds, creating a coating of some tangy substance on my tongue.
I couldn’t take another step. At least not with my body being attacked with the stench of a thousand used jock straps. I pressed my hand against the door to the janitor’s closest and bent over. As my coughs became more violent, I must have pushed harder against the door—which gave way—pitching me stumbling face first into a wild tangle of dust mops and buckets. I had just enough time to clasp my hands tightly over my face before meeting the floor, dust making its way into my nose and mouth despite my wall-of-hands..
The dust was grittier than I expected. I didn’t go around eating dirt alongside my ten piece chicken nuggets, but what boy hasn’t tried some growing up? Bits of hard, jagged chunks of God knows what stuck to my tongue. When my fingers couldn’t dislodge the pieces, I began to lick my letterman jacket in hopes it would liberate my tongue from the crap.
If anyone saw me now—down on the floor, licking myself like some damn dog.
That is when I saw the first one.
The first body.
The first of many.
I could only see one of its eyes. Wide open, eyelashes crusted over in dried blood. It never blinked. It sat there staring at me. Frozen.
Cans of paint and bottles of cleaner camouflaged the rest of the body. There were other strange objects littering the floor of the closest—empty water bottles, a radio, candles, cans of Spam. Only the eye was visible through the mess. Like I was stuck in some fucked up Poe story.
I didn’t scream or run away. I didn’t feel much of anything. I knew what I was supposed to be doing—running, screaming, peeing my pants. I just couldn’t convince myself it was real. How could I? The most dramatic thing that ever happened to me was the death of my parents. That happened so long ago I couldn’t even remember crying. The next most dramatic thing? The news that Steve Carell was leaving The Office.
I didn’t lead such a bad life.
A dream.
A nightmare.
That had to be it.
I just had to wake up.
I pulled my t-shirt over my nose before getting on my feet. I was pretty sure Janitor Corpse was the cause of the stink that filled the hallways. I backed out of the room, still unable to look away from the eye. I made a promise to myself in that moment to lay off the mystery meat at lunch. My classroom naps usually involved scenes of sexual depravity with Jenna. Not this. Never this.