Winter's End by Jean-Claude Mourlevat

her there to die!”
    “You’re right. We have to get her out of there tonight. With the annual assembly, and what happened at the end of it, I don’t suppose supervision will be very tight.”
    “There must be another boy in the detention cell in your school too.”
    Milos dug both hands into his hair and then sighed deeply. “There was. But not anymore.”
    “What do you mean? Did they let him out?”
    “No, it was like this. A terrible thing happened.When Bart and I left the school last week for me to go and see my consoler, the supervisor picked a boy for punishment instead of us if we failed to come back. And guess what — he picked Basil. The poor guy found himself in the cell without doing anything wrong for once. All he wanted was to keep quiet and out of trouble! He was in there for five days and five nights, and on the Thursday morning I saw two men carrying his body out on a stretcher. His skull was all battered, and there was blood congealing on his face and shoulders. They loaded him into a van and took him away. I don’t know where. I think he couldn’t bear the idea of being punished unjustly. I think he went crazy with rage in that hole, and then flung himself at the door to kill himself. That’s what I work out happened. . . .”
    Milos’s voice cracked. Helen turned to him, and thought his eyes were suspiciously bright for a boy who claimed to be primitive.
    “Come on,” he said, pulling himself together. “We must find Catharina before she goes crazy too. Let’s get moving!”
    They left the rope where it was on the roof and came back down through the skylight. The lock on the door at the far end of the loft didn’t stand up to Milos’s knife for long. They went down the stairs and into the hall where the assembly had been held. The Skunk, replete and dead drunk, had collapsed beside the wall, fast asleep with his mouth wide open. A plane crashing into the room wouldn’t have woken him. When Milos got a close-up view of thebuffet — the old soak hadn’t been able to make any real inroads into it — he practically fainted.
    “The pigs! Look at that: pies, ham, pâté, apple tart!”
    “Chocolates!” moaned Helen.
    They fell on the food and ate everything that came to hand. Then they helped themselves, not feeling at all guilty, to anything they could carry easily, stuffing their pockets with bread, cheese, and crackers. The doors had all been left unlocked after the guests fled in disorder. They opened them one by one and reached the ground floor unimpeded. In the dark they made their way along the corridor that ran the full length of the building. Milos didn’t switch on his flashlight until they reached the refectory, where he felt sure no one would find them at this time of night. The little door at the back of the room was open too. Milos started down the stairs first.
    “Careful, the steps are slippery!” whispered Helen.
    “Put your hands on my shoulders,” Milos replied. “You said the cell’s underneath the cellar?”
    “Yes. Keep going! We’ll have to go right to the bottom.”
    After about ten feet, a space opened out on their right. Milos ran the beam of his flashlight over it, saw nothing, and went on down. Following him along the mud-brick tunnel, Helen felt her heart thudding violently. What state would little Catharina be in? How would she have survived when Basil, who must be much tougher, had lost his head?How could they have left her alone for a whole week in that nightmarish cell? Shame and fear overwhelmed her.
    “It’s not locked!” exclaimed Milos, incredulous. “Look, Helen, the door’s wide open!”
    She joined him, snatching the flashlight from his hands. If the door had been left open, it could mean that Catharina wasn’t in any shape to escape. Perhaps she too . . . Helen swept the beam of the flashlight around the cell. It was empty.
    “She isn’t here! I don’t understand. What have they done with her?”
    “Come on!” Milos