21
Earlier, as he came through the main doors of the school, Salmon still felt rough and shaken by the events of the fearful incident in the night. He’d hardly slept at all, images of that damned caretaker pounding on his car haunting every minute. Whiskey had numbed some of the effects, but the drink achieved nothing except sending him into oblivion, and he hated that. When he woke, scrunched up on the couch, his throat felt dry, limbs stiff and sore. He’d flopped down on his bed but couldn’t find sleep. So he lay there, staring into nothing, feeling nauseous, anxious, even afraid. He would have to face that man again at some point. Now, back in school, his stomach was like mush, knowing that the inevitable meeting had arrived. Only this time it would here, in the daylight, and nobody wo
