Chester's Finest

HI ! THIS is part 1 of 2 or maybe 3? i hope you enjoy it i havent edited it even though i really shouldve have omg.

Saying yes to Sydney was always going to be a mistake.

The dude was 200% bonafide crazy; 6ft-something of really stupid plans and an even worse-

“You’re narrating again, C,” Sydney grinned, slapping his friend on the back, “and I’m not sure it’s politically correct to call someone ‘200% bonafide crazy’, ya know?”

Cyril jumped, coming out of his inner monologue to find himself up to mid calve in wet grass and mud.

“Are we in a field? Wait. Is this school?”

Sydney made a noise that could’ve meant anything, grabbing Cyril by the hand and pulling him through the grass. Cyril pulled himself free, barely managing to not trip over a rock and break his arm, or something.

“Why are we here?” he hissed, “I spend enough of my time here without you dragging me here at, what time is it? Three AM? On a Thursday?”

Sydney stopped and turned to face him, “for a start, it’s 8pm. Secondly, I know you love this place you little nerd, you stay here until like 6 most nights anyway. Thirdly yes, it’s school and yes, we’re breaking in to steal things. So let’s go.”

Cyril was about to object when his friend turned and continued walking. He dithered for a moment, tempted to either tackle Sydney or sprint home and wait for this all to blow over. Eventually, he ran after him instead.

Because even in saying yes to Sydney was a mistake, it was nearly impossible not to.

They’d only been friends a few weeks, but it felt like a lot longer. Cyril had moved in half way through the school year and had been all the rage in the small town of Chester for about two days. Sydney, having apparently completely screwed all his other friends over and been declared resident asshole of the school, latched onto him and wouldn’t let go.

And now they were about to commit a criminal offense. On a school night.

“It’s a Friday, C,” Sydney said, clearly exasperated, “just stop thinking and see if any of the doors are unlocked.”

“Was I doing it again?”

“No, I’m just able to magically read your thoughts,” Sydney rattled the door to the music block.

Cyril stopped his attempts at getting a window open and gasped, “seriously?”

Sydney groaned, the door opened.

“Bingo,” he whispered.

He propped the door open with a stopper and gestured Cyril inside, pushing past him a second later to stride through the music department and into the main school. Cyril followed slowly, eyes flicking up to the security cameras and then back down. He kept ducking his head as he was meant to be sneaking, not waltzing. He hurried to catch up with Sydney.

“Why are we here then?” he whispered once they were in line with each other.

Sydney ignored his question, looking into classrooms and generally being an asshole until they reached the main reception at which point he disappeared behind the desk and started rifling.

“What are you looking for?”

“A key,” came a muffled voice from under the desk, “to the admin office. I’m in deep shit and I need to- it doesn’t matter. Keep lookout for me.”

Cyril hopped up on the desk and kept his eyes trained on the hallway. The school at night reminded him of a house he’d lived in when he was younger, one in which the kitchen had large French doors looking out onto a patio. Cyril would go down for a glass of water in the night and promise himself he wouldn’t look out into the darkness, but every time he’d find himself staring. There is something really hypnotic about darkness – seeing the shadows move and convulse as your eyes try to adjust but can never quite process what they’re seeing.

The hallway had shadows like that: slow, smooth, and completely terrifying.

“Are you nearly done?” he asked, wrapping his arms around himself.

Sydney grunted, standing from behind the desk and turning to unlock the back office.

“Sure, stay here. I’ll be right back.”

The door shut behind him with a decisive click, and then it opened again.

“Don’t start waxing poetic about your kitchen again,” Sydney smirked, “you might attract the spooky shadows, or something.”

Cyril threw a pencil at him. It bounced off the door, and he could hear Sydney cackling from the office.

He strained his ears for any sound, forcing his eyes to drift around the room so as to not become fixated on the hallway. He was tempted to close the doors, but the thought of getting up and walking into the hall to unclasp them from the walls terrified him. He heard a door slam on the second floor and nearly had a fucking heart attack.

“Sydney?” he called as loudly as he dared, “I think there’s someone upstairs.”

The office door opened and Sydney slid out, closing and locking it behind him.

“Let’s go then,” he said, an easy smile on his face, “I didn’t see any lights on when we came in though.”

They heard footsteps on the staircase around the corner from the reception, looked at each other, and bolted.

Getting out was harder than getting in. For a start, Cyril barely knew the school and Sydney was taking corners before Cyril could register where he was going. Secondly, it was pitch black and Cyril couldn’t run for five minutes without beginning to cry from his chest contracting.

It was as he turned the hall to see the door they came in through and saw Sydney fumbling with the now closed door that his head smashed into a locker. He blacked out.

HUNT FOR LOCAL WOMAN CEASES A MONTH INTO INVESTIGATION

A WASTE OF RESOURCES SAYS CHIEF OF POLICE

The hunt for local woman Dawn Merriwell (40), who has been missing since October 10th, has been called off following claims that the search was ‘consuming too many resources and reaping very few results’.

Wife of local mayor Robert Merriwell, Mrs Merriwell was last seen in Chester Community center following the end of the monthly ‘Ladies Association Meeting’ that she herself hosted. Mayor Merriwell is yet to make a statement pertaining his wife’s disappearance. When questioned on the possibility of foul play, Chief Megann was silent.

Mrs Merriwell was an active member of the community, and questions are being raised as to how it was possible for her to disappear as she did. ‘She basically vanished,’ a local claims, ‘how anyone can go missing in a small town like this is beyond me. It’s like magic.’ Mrs Merriwell's car still sits in the community parking lot, leaving a grieving husband (46) and daughter (17) behind.

Cyril woke up in an empty carpark with Sybil unconscious on top of him. He pushed him off and sat up, confused and more than a little pissed off.

“Sydney. Sid,” he poked the man, “wake up.”

Sydney made an unattractive snorting noise and rolled over. Cyril kicked him.

“What’s up?” he muttered, eyes opening slightly, “wait.”

He scrambled, grabbing Cyril and using him to pull himself up. Cyril watched as he stumbled, fell, and picked himself back up again.

“D’ya have any change?” he asked.

Cyril rooted in his pockets, producing a five-pound note, “sure. Why?”

“Let’s go get something to eat.”

Twenty minutes later they were waiting for the cheapest, greasiest food their money could buy in a diner. If the waitress’ comment about how early they were in was anything to go by, Cyril reckoned it was pretty damn early. And he was probably in trouble. A lot of it.

“Do you have a phone I could borrow?” he asked Sydney, who simply replied with a cryptic shrug and a smile, “seriously, Sid.”

“No, sorry. You told your mum you were stopping out though, right?”

Cyril chewed at his nail as he watched the waitress arrive with their food, “sure, but I-”

He was interrupted by her putting the plates down and smiling, loudly asking if they needed any more coffee. Sydney spoke for him, smiling politely until she walked away.

“Okay seriously,” he said once she was gone, “the fuck was last night?”

In-between shoving bacon into his mouth, Cyril shrugged.

“What do you remember?” he asked, “should I go to a hospital? Is there blood in my hair?”

“Nothing, no, probably.” Sydney replied.

“Really?”

“Well, your hair is pretty dark, so I can’t actually tell. But-”

Cyril slapped his arm, “shut up. You didn’t see anything?”

“Um,” Sydney traced pattern in the sugar he’d spilt on the table, avoiding Cyril’s eyes, “Well, I heard you get hit, or whatever. Then I got knocked out.”

“Got knocked out?” Cyril frowned, “you saw someone?”

“What? No. I don’t know. What else would it be, some mythical creature? Some creepy shadow demon?”

Cyril felt himself flush. Sydney grinned.

“You didn’t seriously think it was a monster, did you? Dude.”

“Stop being such an asshole. I knew it- fuck you.”

Cyril watched Sydney button his coat and stand.

“Do you want to hang today?” he asked.

“Um, no,” Cyril replied, “I’ve got work to do.”

Sydney ruffled his hair before making a motion with his hand and leaving without saying goodbye. So he asked the waitress if he could borrow a phone and called his mother for a ride home. She chastised him in the car, claiming that it was nice that he was making friends but no excuse for losing his phone and not being able to explain where or how.

“I was speaking with one of the PTA ladies and she said that friend of yours is a bit, well, troubled.”

“He’s fine,” Cyril pressed his head against the glass and willed the ride to be over, “why are you talking to PTA women?”

They came up at a red light and she turned to beam a smile, “I joined! They’re all so friendly.”

And he didn’t know why he said it, he did. Maybe some sort of twisted sense of justice or a need for her to stop pretending that their life was normal and that everything was fine. Regardless, he said it.

“Please. They probably just want you to clean their house or babysit their kids.”

Her smile faltered, “the people here aren’t like that, Cyril.”

“People are racist everywhere. Dad understood that.”

She grounded him.

Great.

Later that night, after trying (and failing) to apologise to his mother, Cyril lay in bed. He kept the lights off and allowed himself to stare into the darkness. It was a game he liked to play – he would try and will the shadows away without having to turn on a light. It never worked.

“God, what is it with you and shadows?”

He yelped, rolling off the bed and onto the floor.

“Chill.” His light flicked on to reveal Sydney standing over him, the lampshade turning his hair from brown to a deep red. Wait.

“Did you dye your hair?” Cyril asked.

“You like it?” Sydney extended a hand to help him up, “I got bored. Dya wanna go out?”

Cyril folded his arms and leant back against his bedside table, thinking he looked super cool, “No. I’m grounded. Because of you.”

“We don’t have to go outside or tell your mum. It’ll be fun!” Sydney flopped down on the bed and tugged at the material of Cyril’s jumper until he sat down too, “do you have any games?”

Cyril ignored him, “how did you get in?”

“Window. Your shitty music must’ve masked it.”

That would be fine if not for the fact that Cyril’s room was on the second floor, and there was no way to climb up.

“Ladder,” Sydney stretched out, “you’re so stupid sometimes.”

Hanging out with Sydney wasn’t the same as spending time with his friends back home. They were doing pretty much the same activities, insulting each other the same way and when Sydney shoved food into his mouth and grinned he looked remarkably like one of Cyril’s old friends. But it wasn’t the same. It was emptier.

“So I actually came over to talk to you about something,” Sydney said after a few hours of mindless horror movies, “pause the film.”

Cyril closed his laptop, “somehow I’m not surprised.”

He expected Sydney to grin and make a joke, but that was before he saw how pale Sydney actually looked – how shaken.

“So, um,” Sydney picked at his nails, “before I came over I decided to do a little… research? I guess. Do you watch the local news, C?”

Cyril shook his head and watched as Sydney pulled a face of disgust before continuing.

“You should, because it’s seriously fucked up. Like, 500 animal killings in the last few weeks, a string of missing people reports. Deaths, C – people dying. Animal attacks, mainly but also suicide stuff I think? I don’t know it’s super weird.”

“What’s this about?”

“Well it got me thinking, you know? When we went to the school yesterday I mean, someone must’ve done something to us, right? And I basically, well.” Sydney visibly took a deep breath, looking Cyril straight in the eye as he said:

“I think there’s a cult in Chester.”

Cyril burst out laughing.

“A cult?” he said in between wheezes, “you’re joking. You’ve got to be joking.”

“Think about it, C. Animal killings? Sacrifices. Missing people? Probably also sacrifices. Dead people?” he grabbed Cyril’s arm and jostled him as he enunciated, “sa-cri-fi-ces.”

“Who needs to sacrifice that many things?”

“A cult!”

Cyril shook him off gently and settled back into the mountain of cushions they’d piled on his bedroom floor.

“It’s not that I don’t believe you, but sacrifices are typically used to please or thank Gods, aren’t they? And to beg forgiveness. Who the hell needs to beg that much forgiveness from their Gods?”

Sydney lay down next to him, “that’s where it gets really good. I mean, I’d probably start a cult and I bet some stupid fucks at our school had the same idea. They probably looked at some Wikipedia pages and decided to take a crack at it.”

Cyril rolled his eyes, “I seriously think we should go to the police about this. Especially if you actually think there’s some sort of,” he couldn’t help but giggle, “cult in our school.”

“Great idea. ‘Yes Mr Officer, we got attacked! We might have broken into our school to steal documents and rig test scores but that is beside the point – help us!’”

Cyril jabbed him in the ribs, “sarcastic asshole.”

Sydney laughed, “you love it. You’re so into it.”

Cyril pushed him off the pillow pile.

“Okay so there is TOTALLY a cult in this place,” was the first thing out of Sydney’s mouth on Monday morning as they sat in the back of class, “and I am going to find it.”