A short story about class warfare by David Tombale: The Rooters

The Rooters

Leo could see the tears welling in the boy’s eyes even at a distance and felt the rage build inside him. Here was another weed that needed plucking and with all eyes on the athletic trials he couldn’t believe the boy wasn’t at least trying to hide his unseemly display. Leo tugged on the red badge on his arm and started walking across the grass field studiously ignoring the approaching runners. He was confident that they all knew the penalty for crossing a Rooter, even a junior one.

The runners at the front of the pack saw the seventeen year old walk right across the track and recognizing him by his blonde hair and tall build, quickly drew to a halt, not wanting to draw his attention. The object of his rage was leaning against the lower bench of an empty audience stand while keeping his hand on a bloody abrasion on his knee.

‘Is there a problem student?’ Leo inquired.

The boy lifted his head and his heart nearly stopped in his chest. Looking down at him with pure disdain was a pair of cold gray eyes, eyes that he’d often seen scanning the students at New England Prep for weakness. Junior Rooter First Class Leo Grant was the most feared person at their school; even the Headmaster stepped lightly around him.

‘No Junior Rooter Grant,’ the boy replied, his voice quaking.

Leo nodded his head, ‘I see, then you wouldn’t mind getting on your feet.’

The boy was beginning to sweat and glanced down at his knee then back into the rooter’s face and found no mercy there. He struggled to his feet then tried to stand up straight. He lasted for almost a full ten seconds before falling back on his haunches, a soft cry escaping his lips.

‘I see,’ Leo said. He turned his head and called over two second year rooters who had been observing their senior with interest. They came running over and took in the boy shuddering on the ground.

‘Sir?’ the first of them spoke up.

‘I want you to take this student to the nurse’s office, and inform her that I’ll need her notes for my report,’ Leo ordered them.

What little color remained in the boy’s face completely melted away and took on the expression of a condemned man. The two second years each got an arm under him and lifted him bodily to his feet. They marched him away with his toes scraping against the dirt, helplessly dangling between them.

Leo looked around and noticed how careful everyone was to avoid his eye, including the adults who’d come out to cheer on their kids. He eventually spotted a woman in one of the stands being supported by a white haired man, mascara dripping down her face in a torrent of tears and guessed that they were the boy’s parents. From the cut of her clothes and the uneven mess that was her hair she must have been a cleaner or working some other dead end job, which was probably why the senior rooters hadn’t bothered with her. It was a wonder they’d even gotten their boy into a school like New England Prep. Leo felt it when the man’s gaze focused in on him and the heat of his anger couldn’t have been more obvious. He stiffly gave the man his back and walked away from the practice fields.

The sun was just beginning to set when Leo brought his bike up to their building’s third floor and turned the key to let himself in to their apartment. Something rushed out at him from under a couch, and quickly setting his bike aside he bent down to let his pet Scottish terrier Byron leap into his arms. Byron started licking at his face while Leo laughed and tried to hold him at a distance.

‘How’re you doing boy?’ Leo asked the little dog, rubbing his nose against its cold one. Leo usually set Byron loose when his parents were out so he could get some exercise, but knew the apartment could get pretty lonely. ‘Come on let’s get to my room.’

Leo carried Byron under his arm and into his bedroom kicking the door closed. Placing Byron down he locked the door and watched the dog run excitedly around the room. Leo was grateful for the soundproofed walls that were the only reason his parents hadn’t figured out he was keeping a dog in the apartment. He sat on his bed and smiled at Byron who stopped playing long enough to sit down and look at his master.

Byron panted softly and gave Leo a huge doggy grin that almost rid him of the sight of that injured boy staring at him like he was the devil. He might as well be because his report was going to get that boy expelled and once his weakness was noted and put on file it would be nothing but public schools for him for the rest of his life. After that would be community college and if he was lucky he might get a job driving cabs for a living.

‘Come here Byron,’ Leo coaxed. Byron came running and Leo lifted him up and fell back against his bed while suspending the black furred terrier in the air. Leo knew that those were the rules and there wasn’t anything he could do to change them, if he hadn’t cited the boy someone else would have. It was so damn frustrating and even more so when he considered that if his parents ever discovered Byron he’d probably face far worse.

Byron started barking and let his tongue hang out of his mouth, completely oblivious to the world his master lived in, but happy that he was home. Leo placed the dog beside him on the bed and laid his ear next to its chest and allowed the sound of its heart to drown out his thoughts.

A supernatural short story by David Tombale: The Assignment

The Assignment

Matthew Davis looked up at the rows of teenagers taking their pop quiz and couldn’t help thinking his past weeks with them had been the most peaceful he’d ever experienced. He’d even gotten to know a few of them like Amy Walker, the resident brain of the class, stereotypical glasses and loner attitude included. The girl really was a genius and behind the cheap plastic frames and freckles was actually really pretty; maybe college would help her bring out some of that beauty. Then there was Bobby Lewis, a really skinny kid with fading acne scars and a real passion for art. Yeah he could imagine where that talent would take the kid in the years to come.

To be honest though the kid he was really interested in was Susan Adams. Not only was she bright, she was beautiful with a full head of long blonde hair. The kid was a natural at everything she turned her hand at and those gifts would have taken her far if Matthew hadn’t been ordered to join the faculty at her school. He’d watched her long enough to know they had the right person.

“Okay people, times up! Put your pens down,” Matthew announced standing up. He walked down the rows collecting papers as some of them groaned and others just looked around stunned like they’d lost track of time.

“Well that’s all folks.” The bell rang while he was still speaking and he glanced up at the clock above his desk then at his wild students and smiled. “Get out of here,” he said. They quickly leaped to their feet grabbing bag and pens as they competed to be the first out the door. “And enjoy your weekend!” he shouted over their noise.

Matthew breezed through the papers after school and could already tell who he was going to give passing marks to. He stood up and pulled his jacket off the coat hanger in the corner and left the class.

He walked out to the parking lot and waited. A black SUV pulled up to the curb and Matthew got in the back. FBI Assistant Director Derek Morgan was sitting inside dressed in his usual tweed coat that always reminded Matthew of his old college lecturer Professor Hamilton.

“Well?” Morgan queried.

“The girl’s Gifted. She’s probably a telepath or at least an empath,” Matthew told him looking out the tinted window beside him as they drove.

“Good, good then she’s a perfect candidate for the program. We have two units on their way to her house now. We’ll be joining them,” Morgan said.

Matthew remained silent thinking about how they were about to rip a fifteen year old girl’s life apart. He was glad Morgan couldn’t read his mind he would have locked him in a hole for questioning their mission.

They finally arrived in a quiet suburb miles from the school. There were a couple of black SUVs like theirs parked outside one of the houses. Tanner got out of the car and after a second Matthew pushed open his door and joined him on the street.

Together they walked across to a house identical to all the others in the neighborhood with a white mailbox out front and a basketball hoop suspended over a garage door. Three men in ski masks holding sub machine guns and wearing black clothes came outside as they approached.

“Where is she?” Morgan asked wasting no time.

“They’re gone sir. The house is empty and the car registered to the family is not in the garage,” one of the men said.

Morgan whirled around, “What’s going on Agent Davis? Where’s the girl?”

Matthew met his superior’s suspicious gray eyes. “I have no idea sir.”

Morgan didn’t look convinced but he turned back to the men, “Get on the horn and get all our people looking for them.”

“Yes sir,” the one who’d spoken replied.

Morgan studied Matthew again then made his way back to the car. Matthew followed him taking care to keep a smile off his face.

Matthew flashbacked back to the quiz when he’d been thinking as hard as he could about why he’d really come to Philadelphia and Susan had inquisitively raised her head. He’d felt her presence in his mind and he’d taken care not to resist. He’d simply stayed calm and let her read his memories. He’d felt her shock then and had hoped the girl would take the chance and run.

Morgan could shout and rage all he liked but Matthew prayed they’d never find Susan or her family.

A short story about greed by David Tombale: The radio

The radio

Sitting by the window the old man looked down at the lines of students pouring out of the school. He could imagine what they were saying; this one talking about a girl he liked, that one discussing today’s assignments, that one complaining about an annoying sibling. He could always use the radio to listen in on their secrets if he felt so inclined, to hear what truths they hid even from their friends but he had no interest in a child’s secrets, not even a teenager’s.

Laughing softly he considered himself quite content to gorge on the secrets of his fellow teachers. Absentmindedly stroking the radio he thought blissfully of the tidy little nest egg he’d earned blackmailing them. It’d been so easy and fun writing all those letters and leaving them by their desks detailing each carefully concealed sin.

He was tempted to listen in tonight. To sit at his desk and entertain himself with their black deeds but his wife would be furious with him if he missed another dinner. He was just about to turn off his desk light when he thought he heard a foot step outside. It was surprising because he’d been so certain there’d be no one in the building this late.

“Hello,” he called out. “Is someone out there?”

There was silence for a moment and then static erupted from the radio.

“I have a gun,” a male voice on the radio said.

“What?” The old man stared at the radio in shock.

“I mean to kill him,” it continued.

The old man gripped the arms of his chair and whirled around when the door knob began to turn.

“Who’s there?” he shouted.

“I don’t want to do it but he needs to die,” the voice sobbed.

The old man leapt from his chair looking from the radio to the door. The door opened and in the darkness of the corridor outside he spied the barrel of a small gun.

“I’m sorry,” that same voice told him as the gun roared in his hands.

The old man didn’t feel the bullet that ended his life but he did notice that the radio had finally gone silent.

A short story about a dragon in its last days by David Tombale: From father to son

From father to son

Jim Roden had told his son and his grandson the same bedtime story for over forty years. It was a story about a young dragon who’d given up his immortality so that he could stay with his mortal wife.

 

Jim stood outside his great grandson’s bedroom door as the boy’s father told him the story. Jim didn’t seem to notice the tears that fell from his eyes when Edward told his son how the dragon realized that even as a mortal he would still outlive all the people in his life. Jim silently closed the gap in the door. He hobbled down the stairs taking care to let his black cane bear his weight and at the bottom he headed as quickly as he could for the door desperate to get outside.

“Pop?”

Jim turned his head slowly. His fifty year old son stood by the kitchen drying his hands with a dish cloth. “You going out?”

Jim nodded his head.

 

“You want me to come with you?” his son asked.

The old man shook his head and opened the door. He knew his boy worried about him, they all did. After all it wasn’t every family that had to look after an old fossil like him.

He went to the park and sat on his usual bench by the lake and thought of Sally. She had been such a warm person. Even after all the kidney stones, arthritis and the horror of watching his hair fall out he couldn’t say he’d made the wrong decision. Life with her had been worth trading in a world of magic for their years together.

Still he missed the sky and tearing through the cold wetness of a cloud. Jim loved his family but with Sally gone the dragon and the man in him had begun to die. He stood up and placed his cane on the bench. He took off his grey cardigan, kicked off his shoes and unbuttoned his pants. He knew no one would catch him or stop him, that part of the park was too cold for most people.

Afterwards people said they heard a beast’s roar in the park and the staff found torn trees near the lake along with the naked corpse of a white haired old man. Jim Roden’s family mourned their great grandfather for long time but on certain days when his son came to lay flowers on his father’s grave he couldn’t help thinking about the pure joy that had seemed to reside in his father’s last smile.