Rutwell College Chronicles: Ch. 02

Authors note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, events and incidents are the products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Rutwell College Chronicles:

Revenge of the Nerd's Father

Introduction:

Welcome to Rutwell College.

A place of learning. A steppingstone for all who enter its halls in the great journey of life.

For over two centuries, students at Rutwell have found themselves growing, stretching their limits, encouraged to try new experiences, to embark on paths they never considered before.

In these lecture halls and libraries, this haven of scholarship, the faculty find fresh minds to mold, empty vessels looking to be filled. Youth and experience coming together in creative and unexpected ways with astonishing results.

As the motto of the college says, 'Mens Aperta, Corpus Saturatum'... 'Open Mind, Sated Body'.

Chapter 1: The Briefing

Calvin Weeks rested his head on the steering wheel of his car. Like the vehicle he was sat in, Calvin had seen better days. He rose up from his slumped position, rising like a zombie from the grave, complete with a groan of suffering. Sitting back upright, Calvin twisted the rear-view mirror to inspect his appearance. His hair was shaggy and unkempt, the beard that covered his face looked more like a briar bush in a field than a man's facial growth. Both were long overdue a visit with a brush and scissors. Calvin patted himself down in search of a comb but came up empty. He mauled at both hair and beard for a few seconds with his bare hands trying to bring some order to the chaos, but it was a hopeless task.

He climbed out of his twenty-year-old, much dented car and stretched. At a shade over six foot five, driving for any sort of distance left him stiff, his tall body having to wedge itself into the driver's seat. He might have let his appearance slip some these last couple of years...he looked down at the grubby jeans, oil-streaked white t-shirt and worn leather jacket...okay, he definitely had let his appearance slip. But he had kept himself in shape, at forty he still had the same physique and fitness level he had enjoyed at twenty-five. It took effort and dedication and time. Then again, all he had was time.

A young white man, a student by the look of the books cradled under one arm, passed by him, eyes lowered, shoulders hunched protectively. Calvin got that a lot. Big, black and looking seedy, yeah, he had gotten used to folk being wary around him. He chided himself for prevaricating, there was no point putting things off any longer, he had a job to do.

Calvin walked across the car park towards the building marked 'Rutwell College - Administration Building'. It had been two days since his ex-wife had called him. He knew there was something wrong straight away because Gloria only ever called for two reasons, he was late with alimony or there was trouble. Since he was on top of the money situation Calvin had answered the phone with trepidation. He was right. Trouble.

Their daughter Josephine, Jo as everyone called her, had started college that year at Rutwell. He'd spoken to her the night before she'd left, told her how proud he was of her. Now four months later there was Gloria ringing to tell him that Jo had returned home and was refusing to go back to the college. She wouldn't open up to Gloria at all, wouldn't talk to Mark either. Mark was Gloria's new husband and as much as Calvin didn't like the guy, hard to like a man who is sleeping with your wife, he respected the way Mark had formed his own bond with Jo. So, if his daughter wouldn't tell her mother or her step father what was wrong, wouldn't even come on the phone to Calvin. Well, something was rotten.

Jo was the sensitive type she had been since she was born, which always seemed odd to Calvin as sensitive was never a word that could have been used to describe him. Gloria, well she made Calvin seem reasonable in comparison. Hot tempered was a massive understatement regarding that woman. Jo, however, took things to heart. If a friend didn't call straightaway, then Jo worried that she'd done something wrong, and they'd fallen out. If someone laughed, she worried that she was the source of the joke. Most of the time she overreacted, Calvin hoped that was the case now. Gloria had then asked him to drive out to the university to sort things out and Calvin agreed, not for Gloria, for Jo.

He tapped a finger on the desk, looking to draw the attention of the secretary who was sat outside the office of one of the college administrators, a Ms. Thompson. It was Ms. Thompson that had contacted Gloria, asking for information on Jo and when she might be returning. The secretary, a mousy looking brunette woman whose character and appearance seemed to have made her destined for such a role, squinted at Calvin through thick glasses.

"Janitorial services are two floors down," she said, looking back at her computer monitor.

That wasn't entirely unexpected given his appearance, but Calvin still felt he'd been judged a bit harshly.

"Calvin Weeks to see Ms. Thomson, I'm expected."

His voice was deep but a bit croaky sounding to his own ears. That's what comes when you don't talk to people much anymore.

"Oh, sorry. Um yes. Let me see if she can see you now."

The secretary disappeared into the office behind her, reappearing a moment later. She beckoned Calvin to come inside offering him a mildly apologetic half smile. He brushed past her, watching as she flinched to avoid contact. 'Need to see about a shower along with everything else I guess' he thought as he entered the office, closing the door behind him.

Sitting behind the desk was an older white woman, maybe fifty. Her hair had probably once been light blonde in color, but time had reduced it to a snowy white luster. The haircut itself was a short pixie cut that suited her well with her long delicate neck. Ms. Thompson also seemed to have managed to stave off many of the wrinkles you would have expected a woman of her years to have added by this point of her life, taking care of herself, something Calvin respected.

Her expression as Calvin walked to the desk was as frosty as the hair on her head, piercing blue eyes making Calvin instinctively cast her in the role of villain, 'The Ice Queen'. He had to struggle to keep a small grin from his face at the thought, a smirk at this point wasn't going to thaw out this woman.

Ms. Thompson indicated the chair in front of her desk, but she didn't speak until Calvin had eased his large form into the small chair. He shifted a little hoping to get comfortable, stopping as the icy look dropped another few degrees in temperature. Ms. Thompson then rose to her feet, extending her hand. "Mr. Weeks, I'm Clara Thompson".

'What the hell was she doing, getting me to sit and then making me stand again?' Calvin thought, rising up to take her hand. 'Pure power play' he decided.

"Nice to meet you, please, call me Calvin" he said taking her hand briefly. She was tall, not 'him' tall but close on five foot ten he reckoned. Calvin figured that she needed to be that tall to offset her huge bosom. He couldn't begin to figure out the size of them, but he silently wished her clothing was as worn as his own, maybe that way a button or two might have popped when she drew in an annoyed breath as he suggested she call him by his first name.

"Now then Mr. Weeks," she began as she retook her seat, Calvin slowly sinking back into his own. "Your daughter Josephine left the campus, let me see, almost a month ago and has not returned since then. Now normally the college is open minded about students needing a leave of absence, but we do need a reason for it and of course a return date. Your daughter, nor yourself as a parent, have been able to offer the college any such detail."

She paused at this point, giving Calvin the opportunity to respond. He hadn't anything to say so he said nothing, he just stared at the middle button on her blouse...did it look like it was weakening?

"Fine, well as I was saying. If no details are provided then it is the normal course of events to issue a notice to the student that failure to reappear for lectures by a set date will result in them losing their place at this educational facility." Another pause, another silent answer from Calvin.

"That date was reached yesterday Mr Weeks. However, it seems that you have some influence with our Head of Admissions, Mrs Garcia."

"Yes ma'am," Calvin answered.

"Would it trouble you to let me know exactly what that manner of influence is?" Ms Thompson enquired.

"I served with her late husband ma'am. Good soldier, better man."

"Oh, oh I see. Well, yes that would explain it then." She shuffled some papers in embarrassment. "Well Mrs Garcia has informed me that the deadline for Josephine's return has been extended till the beginning of the next semester. So for the moment her dorm room remains her own. I have a key for it here, perhaps you would like to go there, pick up whatever items Josephine requires brough home for the immediate future?"

"Thank you ma'am, I appreciate that." Calvin took the proffered key from her and found her passing him a laminated badge on a lanyard as well.

"This is a visitors pass, you'll need it for the dorm area. Mr. Weeks, my secretary, will provide you with a guide to the campus. I do hope that whatever is keeping Josephine from returning to us here at Rutwell will be sorted. Sooner rather than later."

"So do I ma'am. Goodbye." Calvin took her hand again, the handshake this time a little firmer, a little friendlier. He turned to go, pausing as Ms. Thompson cleared her throat.

"Mr Weeks. Thank you for your service."

Calvin tipped his head in acknowledgement and left the office.

Josephine had managed to get a dorm room in the older part of the college. This meant it was on the outskirts of the campus as it had spread since it's foundation which was a minus. On the plus side however, these older dorms were for single occupants so she had privacy. Calvin followed the directions the secretary had scribbled in the margin of the map she'd handed him, climbing up to the top floor of the four storied building. Lectures were ongoing so he passed through the almost empty building without running into anyone. Her room was second from the end of the corridor.

The room was as he'd expected. Neat, organised, exactly as Jo would have kept it. Calvin wasn't sure what else Gloria might expect him to do. He'd contacted his former commanders widow, Mrs Garcia, and she'd given them extra time so talk Jo around about returning. His daughter was too organised to have left anything she needed here in her room, she'd have taken it with her when she left. So why had he bothered to come to the room? Maybe just to feel close to his daughter by proxy. Between being away over the years on deployment, the divorce and then his own issues after his last deployment, Calvin hadn't really spent nearly enough time with Jo. He sat on the bed, fighting the urge to fall into melancholy. It was a tough fight, Jo had needed him in the past, to guide her, better prepare her for life. And he'd let her down.

Calvin slapped at the pillow that lay neatly on the bed, sending it to the floor with a 'clunk'.

'Why the hell was a pillow making clunking sounds' he thought as he picked it up. Pushed inside the cover was a slim journal with 'Josephine Stephanie Weeks' written across it. Calvin paused, wondering if he should invade his daughters privacy by looking at the journal before deciding to go ahead, a small betrayal for a greater good.

It took him almost an hour to work his way through his daughter's notes. The first few pages had been filled with enthusiasm and hope. Jo clearly liked her courses and her professors. Then the entries took a turn. It seems that her next door neighbor, someone called Molly, had been causing her grief. It served Calvin well that his daughter's sensitive nature and love of organization meant that her entries were detailed and from the heart.

Molly and her boyfriend, Zak, appeared to have cornered the market pushing drugs to their fellow students. Marijuana, pills to keep awake during study sessions, that kind of thing. This meant there was a lot of foot traffic through the dorm area that had been disruptive. That was compounded by Molly playing music at night, banging against the walls, disrupting Jo at all turns. When Jo had tried to confront her, to reason with her, Molly had laughed it off. Even though Jo had approached her in a friendly and respectful manner, Molly had taken umbrage and had then begun a campaign behind Jo's back, alienating Calvin's good natured daughter from everyone else in her course and in the dorm building. Isolated, Jo had tried to fight back, recording in her journal all of Molly's habits, who visited her as 'customers', how she ran her drug business. Jo had accrued this information in the hope of turning Molly into the campus police.

Somehow Molly had discovered Jo's plan and in front of thirty or more students she'd slapped Jo around, bloodying her, then threatening to do worse if Jo didn't quit the college. The crowd of people had simply turned their backs on a weeping Jo, looking the other way.

His daughter had left the college that night.

There was a low popping sound in the room as Calvin's fists tightened.

Chapter 2: Mission Plan

The door to Mal's barbershop opened, the small bell fixed above it making a small tinkling sound. Mal turned around, watching as a man even bigger than himself pushed his way through the small doorway.

"My man, what can I do for you?" Mal called out good naturedly. He kept his own hair and goatee neatly groomed and it pained him to see the scarecrow appearance of the individual standing by the door.

"Shave, trim I guess," Calvin shrugged off his leather jacket, hanging it by the door. "I'm in your hands."

"And you could not find a safer pair of hands my brother, get yourself in a chair and I'll be right with you."

The shop was empty, it was early in the day, so Calvin had a choice of the three barbers chairs arrayed in front of the wall length mirror. Automatically he moved to sit in the chair closest to the door.

"No, sorry, that one's broken. Try the next one."

Calvin shrugged and headed over to the next chair. Mal stood behind him, fixing a shroud into place to cover Calvin's clothing. Done, he looked at Calvin in the mirror. "So, what can we do about this eh? Let's tackle the beard first. Keep, shave or something in between?"

Calvin looked at his face, what he could see of it. Behind him he saw Mal's trimmed goatee, shot through with white now but lending him an air of distinction, the whitening beard against his dark skin. Calvin wasn't looking for a distinguished appearance though.

"Been a while since I saw how I looked without it, reckon I've changed some, only one way to find out. Take it off."

"As you wish," Grinning the black barber reaching for a scissors, this was going to take a while.

Calvin walked out of Mal's, giving the older man a final wave as he passed by the window. He ran an exploratory hand over his chin, then rubbed it over his head. The beard was consigned to history, his bushy unkempt hair now shorn close to his skull. He almost felt he was back in the army. It wasn't just the haircut, it was having a mission that had him feeling this way.

Step one had been a trip to the barbers. Step two was some new clothes.

An hour later he pulled into a small motel, taking a room for a couple of days. He went inside, dropping the bag of clothes on the bed he stripped off and headed to the shower. As he cleaned off a week's worth of sweat and grime, his fingers touched the scars he'd earned in combat. Some shrapnel had left a series of ragged gouges just above his left hip. There were some knife wounds, slashing lacerations that had healed to leave neat scars crisscrossing his chest. Finally, there were three bullet holes, or at least the long healed remnants of the three separate occasions when he had taken a bullet. Calvin took pride in the fact that the majority of his wounds were to his front, he'd always faced his enemies. The scars were like memories, reminders of places, times and people best forgotten. He ceased his inspection of them, concentrating on getting clean.

Finished and feeling fresher, he went back to the bedroom, checked the clothes he'd purchased would fit. Similar in style to what he'd been wearing, just newer, more expensive. There was only one thing left now, for Sunday to arrive. Today was Friday. Nothing to do but wait. That was always the way, always with time on his hands. Calvin stretched out on the bed, picking up his daughters journal once more. He didn't need to reread her last entries, they were seared into his memory. Instead he flipped back to the first things she had written, when college was a fun experience. It gave him an endgame to strive for, getting Jo back to that point in her young life.

Sunday afternoon rolled around, and Calvin inspected his reflection in the motel room's mirror. The trip to Mal's barbershop had taken a few years off of his appearance. The angular, lean cut to his features, slightly hollow cheeked from the stress of his last few years made him seem harder than he recalled. The clothes looked good, dark pants and shirt, a new black leather jacket over them. Smart but non-descript, that was the look he'd been hoping for.

He slipped a set of lock picks into his inside jacket pocket and then lifted a sheathed knife from the counter beside him. It was a souvenir from his first deployment, the slightly curved blade razor sharp. He tucked it into the back of his pants, out of sight. Set, he left the motel, heading back to the college campus. He had neglected to return the visitors pass after his first trip there so he breezed past the few people he met, earning a second glance more to his size than to any suspicion that he shouldn't be there.

The plan was simple, get access to Molly's dorm room, find her stash, get her thrown out of college and then Jo could return. Simple.

Only no plan was ever simple or ever went smoothly once it started. Combat and life had taught him that hard lesson.

Jo's notes had helped. It seemed that at the end of a week, particularly after a Friday and Saturday night, Molly would run low on product. Her boyfriend Zak would then show up early on a Sunday, resupplying her. Afterwards, Zak always left and nine times out of ten Molly would leave with him. All Calvin could do was hope that today was one of those times, hope for that but be prepared in case it wasn't.

He took the stairs leading up to Molly and Jo's floor two steps at a time, arriving at the top with no change to his breathing. 'Still fighting fit' he considered to himself proudly.

Calvin slowly moved along the corridor, pausing outside each door to rest an ear against the wooden surface, straining to hear any sounds they were occupied.

Nothing. Looks like everyone was out enjoying themselves. He passed Jo's empty room and came to a halt in front of the last door on the floor. Molly's.

Calvin patted the left pocket of his jacket, checking he'd stored an additional item in there, then he knocked firmly on the door before him.

Chapter 3: Mission execution

Calvin waited a moment, then the sound of someone inside the room moving to answer his knock dashed any hopes of him being able to complete the plan undetected. He stuffed his hands inside his jacket and got ready.

The door swung open, and he found himself hesitating despite all his mental preparation for this moment.

A young woman stood in front of him, she was probably a year older than his own daughter, but she certainly didn't look it. Calvin doubted she was even five feet in height, a round cherub face framed by raven black hair that fell in a tousled cascade to just above her shoulders. The dark hair was streaked through with electric blue highlights. He couldn't believe it, this, this 'Smurf' had been able to beat up his daughter? He'd really fallen short of his role as a father for that to have happened.