The Bolt from the Blue (Working Title)

Chapter 21- On the Staircase

A few days later, Sam returned the test: the questions had been strange, and he was pretty certain that a lot of it had not been covered on the course so far. But he didn't care; if she asked where he had gotten the information, he'd just say he looked it up online. She hadn't explicitly told him not to use the internet. Professor Patten took the paper with a raise eyebrow and no small amount of derision in her eyes. He made a mental note to never take another class with this woman in his life.

Adrianna watched him give the professor his paper and then asked, "What was all that about?"

"I just had to do some extra homework to prove I'm serious about this course." Sam said.

"And are you?"

"Not after that homework," He admitted.

"You live in," she named his halls building, "right?"

"Yeah." Sam confirmed.

"Were you there for the blackout?"

"Yes." Sam didn't realised that people outside the building had heard about it; it didn't sound like it was all that interesting a story on the surface.

"Were you scared?"

"No." Sam said, not sure why he would have been. "I mean, the lights just went out. And besides, John was there."

"Oh," Adrianna drew out the syllable, clearly enjoying the implication, "Pitch black fuck sesh?"

"No, we studied scripture by candlelight." Sam really didn't want to have this conversation with Adrianna. Or anyone, really.

"Missed a trick there, then, didn't you, Sammy?"

"Well, next time." He gave her what she wanted, really hoping this would end it.

"Do you think there'll be another? I heard it was caused by a Master's student doing some kind of experiment in her room. They say she's gonna get kicked out."

"What?" Sam didn't realise that other people know about Veronica- he'd gotten the impression she was rather secluded.

"Yeah, apparently the police were even looking into it."

A connection sparked in Sam's brain. He knew that the police would be capable of tracing an electrical fault if they needed. But why would they bother? It hadn't lasted that long and nothing serious had come of it. But he knew that there was one policeman who was inordinately interested in the blackout, its cause, and getting some kind of prosecution out of it.

He needed to talk to John.

When Sam got back to his building, he met Veronica on the stairs. She was coming down, he was going up: she assessed him coolly from the top step. Sam wasn't sure whether or not to say anything, but she launched right in, "It's you."

"Hello." For some reason, this sounded unbearably facile. He got the impression he was meant to be more verbally dextrous; the problem was, he could think of nothing particularly cutting or incisive to say.

"Do you live here?" She asked, a horrible expression of malicious glee hidden in the slightly upturned corners of her mouth.

Sam didn't want to answer. While he tried to stop John obsessing over her and he certainly didn't condone violence of any kind, he was still suitably afraid of the murderer upstairs. And he didn't want her to know anything about him that wasn't strictly necessary. Sadly, in his silence, she got her answer.

"Let me guess: second floor?" She took a step down towards him, and it took all of Sam's self-control not to back away from her. "That's normally where they put the Freshers." She put so much hatred into the word, it almost sounded like a racial slur of some kind. "So we're basically neighbours." Another step down; she was trying to intimidate him. It was working. "And you're, what, dating that brute?" She clearly considered the word to be the worst kind of insult she could imagine- one attacking someone's intelligence. "Isn't that strange?" Her tone seemed to suggest that she suspected Sam of some kind of conspiracy.