A/N: This is Colt, and welcome to the world of The Staircase! If you haven't been able to tell from the first chapter, Colt's version of the legal system is a tad off. Just go with it, please? This is supernatural/fantasy.;;
Sorry these are shorter chapters than I usually write! I’ll try to make them longer, but this way I update faster. Oh, and this chapter is slow. I hate beginning chapters, because there’s a lot of set-up to do. But we’ll be plunging into the story next chapter, so stick with me!

Chapter One

The bus belched a fog of nauseous gas, which I quickly evaded while covering my nose and mouth with one hand, and the strap of the duffel I had been allowed to bring. The list had seemed ridiculous, saying I was allowed only four shirts and two pants for reward days. Aside from bathroom articles and underwear, I had stuffed as many paperback fantasy novels as I could fit. The air was stuffy and still, as if the wind had grown tired and decided not to blow on this god-forsaken hill. I could actually taste the heat in my mouth as I began to sweat, suddenly glad I wore shorts.

“Come on,” the police officer ordered, his face tired and haggard. Retirement seemed to be too far away.

At least I’m not in handcuffs again, I thought to myself, dragging my feet after him as I recalled the embarrassing memory of the police car in front of the school. I looked up at the building in front of us, and felt all the more gloomy. I thought bricks were red, but somehow they discovered a way to make them grey. I wrinkled my nose as I peered up at the tall tower in the center of the rectangle building. Scraggily trees grew around the whole place, an army encroaching in and only stopped by the iron fence with high, narrow poles. The fields were made of the crab grass grandpa always used weed killer on. The pollen was so thick in the air; I could actually see it and feel my non-existence allergies cringing.

“Check please,” I mumbled under my breath, as the officer moved to press the call button next to the heavy metal and glass doors.

The door opened easily by mechanics, as no handle was on either side. I felt a blast of air from inside cross my cheeks, barely cooler and none fresher. A man stood there, his stature and build impressive if not for his red eyes and nose.

“You feeling alright man?” the officer asked as he stepped inside.

“Hayfever. Always kicks up in the morning,” the man returned, pulling a tissue from his pocket and proceeding to imitate a foghorn. He wadded up the tissue and crammed it into an already bulging pocket. I felt repulsed at the idea of the germ bomb he carried. He waved us into a small doorway just next to the main one.

I glanced at the closing metal door, and wished for nothing more than to bolt to freedom. It shut with a hiss as the officer put his hand on my shoulder and let me into a small office overflowing with filing cabinets and a desk bearing a name plaque that read “Mr. Spencer” and “activity director” underneath in smaller print.

“This must be Mr. Tyler Cole,” he started as he sat down on a folding chair, inspecting the clipboard. The officer pushed me down in the only other chair in the room.

I shifted uncomfortably on the hard metal. “Fourteen, green eyes, blonde hair-“ Mr. Spencer paused and looked at me critically. “Short.”

“I am not short!” I retorted hotly.

“Shut your mouth,” the officer scolded.

“Mostly Bs, scattered As, quiet in class…” He blew his nose again. “Allergic to cats, no health problems…widowed mother that lives with grandfather… no prior convictions.” The clipboard snapped as he removed something, and tossed it aside as I fisted my hand in the jean fabric of my shorts at the last comment. “Everything seems in order. You can leave, officer.” As soon as he departed, Mr. Spencer reached across the desk and handed me a card. “This is your ID. Wear in at all times in plain sight.”

I fingered the plastic card, staring down at my own name and a barcode. It seemed so clinical. “Well, Cole, I imagine you’re eager to see the facilities?”

I shrugged vaguely, and he sighed. “Cole, voice your answer.”

“It doesn’t really matter to me,” I mumbled, playing with the strap on my duffel bag.

Mr. Spencer grumbled and stood up. “Come on, boy. Let’s get you to your dorm.”

I followed him as he left the office and moved into the main hall. “Your director’s office is down here, as well as the headmaster, the drill sergeant, and the counselors.”

“Drill sergeant?” I testily asked, feeling my stomach drop a bit as I recalled Grandpa’s stories from when he joined the army.

“What, you think you’re going to be sitting around in the shade?” he scoffed, and his attempt at scorn was foiled by his nose. He pointed down the hall after shoving another tissue into his pocket. “There’s staircases on both end leading to the classrooms upstairs. Class starts at seven thirty sharp, right after breakfast. Going on as we speak.”

He moved to the right end of the hall, his stride wide and swift. I quickened my pace to keep step, as he opened a door at the end and stepped into the flood of heat. A courtyard of black top sat behind the main building divided in half by a chain link fence. Two squatty, smaller buildings ran down each side, the same dull gray. Beyond the courtyard, fenced off, was more of a field.

“Meals are served from there,” he pointed at the back of the main building, where a row of windows about stomach high ran above a slight shelf. “Eat the benches on your side.”

“Side?” I asked.

He motioned to the right. “Boys-“ his other hand moved to the left. “Girls. Keep ‘em separate, except in class.”

He turned to me, and I shifted the duffel from one hand to the other. “Guards are posted around the perimeter and all the teachers are trained. So no trying anything, got that?”

I almost felt like calling him ‘sir’ as I replied, “Yes.”

He blew his nose again. “Your dorm is 206. Go put your back under the bed and change into the uniform in the cubby. Your counselor should be there momentarily. So be quick.”

I headed for the building, my bag banging against my leg as I did. Mr. Spencer watched me walk around the metal benches which looked baking in the sun, and head towards the building. A man was standing at the door and watched me approached.

“ID?” he ordered. I dug the card from my pocket where I had shoved it, and with a quick nod he opened the door. “Wear it,” he added as I stepped through. The dorms were just as bad as outside, adding to the heat an interesting smell I didn’t wish to identify.

My duffel bag kept bumping against my leg as I climbed the stairs, feeling like a criminal led to the gallows as each step made a hollow echo underfoot. The hallway was long, narrow doorways every few feet on only one side. I glanced at the first doorway, and discovered no door. Inside sat a sad, lonely looking bed sloppily made, clothes stuffed in a hamper, and a low row of shelves under what looked like a window that had been plastered shut. Folded clothes and books rested on the shelves, as well as papers messily crammed in and other various odds and ends.

I passed four more doors, the interior very much the same. I found the opening with a large ‘6’ painted next to it, and stared at it for a moment. The room had been set up identical to the others, only the sheets and blankets were neatly folded on the top of the bed. Even though the light was on, it still seemed cloaked in shadows.

I stepped through the doorway barely wide enough for my shoulders into the carpet-less little hole in the wall. I looked up at the ceiling, and spotted the single light bulb that had been caged.

I noted with mixed sarcasm and amusement, They even lock the light up here.

I dropped my duffel onto the floor, suddenly feeling very exhausted. I crouched on the floor and crossed my arms over my knees. I slowly scanned the tiny room again, taking notice of the funny smell of disinfectant and disuse.

Never in my life had I been homesick, even when I got sent to live with my father’s sister for the summer when I was a little kid. But now the unfamiliar feeling struck, and I felt sick to my stomach. I remembered mom’s tears from the day before, and wished more than ever to be home and hug her again.