Chapter 32
Anthony was shivering. The freestanding ablution block, as it was termed in a hangover from its National Guard days, was poorly heated, and the lighting was barely fit for purpose, so Anthony hadn’t bothered to turn it on.
He knew where he was going, and he didn’t want to see what he was doing; he could hear, feel, and smell it well enough.
More importantly, he didn’t want to attract attention.
He believed himself to have entered the block unobserved, and by now was almost convinced that he might have been mistaken about what he’d glimpsed from the dorm window.
In case he wasn’t, it was better to toil in the shadows.
Lights drew insects, and other things too.
Enough moonlight shone through the narrow rectangular windows to content him.
He was just finishing up, and was about to flush the evidence, when the stall door exploded inward, catching Anthony so hard, with his pajama bottoms around his knees, that he lost his balance and fell.
He looked up to see Leonard Levesque standing in the gap, making a wafting gesture under his nose with his right hand.
“I think we’re going to have to rename you,” said Leonard. “Piss boy isn’t going to cut it anymore.”
And Anthony Marshall managed a single cry before he was silenced.