The Brothers' Lot - Kevin Holohan [109]
Scully leapt aside, and a second later Brother Boland, clinging to the school bell, crashed through the stairwell onto Brother Loughlin. Boland was flung to the ground and lay there stunned. Loughlin twitched, then did not move; he lay under the bell with his head at a very peculiar angle to his trunk.
“Boland, you mad bastard! You and your precious fucking bell. Look what you’ve done,” howled Moody. He advanced on Boland, his eyes afire with hate and violence.
Finbar crawled up to where Scully lay. “He’ll kill him,” he whispered.
“So what?” groaned Scully.
Brother Moody struck out wildly at Brother Boland but jammed the pipe into the broken fuse box instead. He froze and then shuddered as the current coursed through him. Boland lashed out with his foot and kicked Moody’s legs from under him. Moody fell to the floor twitching.
“I’m going to do for ye all,” sneered Moody, and tried to stand up. The staircase shook and seemed to wrench itself off the wall. Finbar grabbed Scully and dived toward the doorway. The air was filled with noise and dust, and then just dust. As it cleared they saw Brother Moody pinned under a huge beam and Brother Boland trapped under the other end of it.
“Help me! Help me!” pleaded Brother Moody.
Finbar and Scully stood uncertainly at the doorway.
“Go! Save yourselves!” croaked Brother Boland. “What a terrible waste of a life! Diseased, terrible waste. Leave me. Leave him too. He doesn’t deserve to be saved. His like should never be let near decent people. Run! Save yourselves. The school is sick and must die. Save yourselves. You have to try to understand …”
A tremendous rumble from the floors above drowned out Brother Boland’s voice.
“Run! And keep running!” shouted Finbar, and pushed Scully out the door in front of him. They heard the crash and crunch behind them and were enveloped in a cloud of choking dust. They veered to their left and emerged in the middle of the yard, which was deserted and littered with rubble, desks, slates, pipes, broken glass.
“The gate’s open! Keep going!” screamed Scully, who limped on ahead. They dashed out the gate, up the lane, and turned onto Werburgh Street. At the top of the street they saw everyone else and ran toward them, then turned to look back and saw what the crowd was staring at numbly.
Windows were popping and smoke was rising. With each thump and shudder the school seemed to exhale more dust and smoke.
“Look! The tower!” someone shouted.
All eyes locked on the bell tower. It was listing. It seemed to regain stability for a moment and then gently folded in on itself and lay down with a huge stony sigh. Some of the boys cheered.
“Where’s Smalley?” Scully asked Lynch.
“Over there with Spud Murphy and Laverty.”
Scully turned to see the boy standing behind Spud Murphy, who was shouting furiously at Mr. Pollock: “You and your fucking miracle and your fucking school! I’ll hang you, Pollock. I don’t care what it takes. You are a vicious, twisted little fucker and not fit to be near animals, no mind say young people. You’re a sick bastard and I will see you pay for this!”
As if to echo Spud’s words, the top floor of the monastery building collapsed completely.
“It’ll be your word against mine, Mr. Murphy.”
“It will not.” Mr. Laverty stood in front of Pollock. “I’ll back him up. I will make it my life’s work to see you get what’s coming to you. Come on, Mullen, let’s get you cleaned up and I’ll drive you home. Away from this vicious fucker.”
“Where the hell were you until now? We were …” Mrs. Sullivan yanked the front door open and her breath caught when she saw Finbar, Scully, and Spud Murphy standing on the doorstep. Finbar’s arm was in a sling and Scully’s head was heavily bandaged.
“Holy Mother of God! What happened you, Finbar?”
“They’re fine, Mrs. Sullivan. Do you think we might come in? They’ve had quite a day. I’m Mr. Murphy, Finbar’s History teacher,” said Spud softly.
“Oh God, of course! I’m sorry. I was worried sick.”
“What the … ?” Finbar froze in the sitting room doorway. His father was there