Hades' Halls

Desperate Times

Mats closed the book with a dusty thump, stretched, yawned and almost choked on a fly that had seen the back of his throat and thought it looked a decent place for a leisurely fly.

Regaining his breath while the unfortunate fly began its way down his digestive track like the little shot of protein that it was, Mats looked around red faced. Everyone in the library was making a conscious effort to not look at him while simultaneously making it perfectly clear that Mats had been officially marked as the disturber of the peace.

It mattered not; Mats was finished anyway.

Slinging his backpack over one shoulder and placing the book back on the shelf, Mats skedaddled from the judgmental atmosphere of the library, out into the fresh air.

The glorious sunshine blessing Exeter did nothing to lift Mats' mood. Even before the unfortunate incident of the coughing fit, Mats' seven-hour stint at the university library had been nothing short of dismal. Countless turnings of pages had proved fruitless in his search and the library had been his last hope.

There was also the slight matter of the constant clenching sensation in his chest which was only growing worse as the days progressed. Despite the discomfort, there was no point in seeking out medical advice for it as, even if the doctor's surgery had got round to putting him on the register, this was not something they could fix.

As he walked towards town where he was meeting his flat mates, Mats replayed that day two weeks ago when Mr Bogart had said how Mats had had to travel all the way to England to get a place at university. Mats did not agree with Mr Bogart; he knew very well how capable he was, but he could not stop dwelling on the fact that he had moved 2000 miles from Oslo to Exeter and would not see his family again until December.

Walking out of the quaint alleyway connecting the high street to Cathedral Green, Mats saw the other five sitting on the grass next to the monument of Exeter's long and illustrious history. Usually, Mats would admire the medieval architecture, the lines of the building and the way it elegantly rose from the ground as if it had been constructed long ago by hands more skillful than humans. But to be honest, he was just not feeling it that day.

Getting closer to the others Mats listened into their conversation, but he had already guessed what they would be talking about.

"It's ridiculous", said Eloise, finger holding her place on the page of a hefty medical journal. "I haven't slept more than four hours over the last two nights."

"I know. It can't be easy for you with everything you've already got going on", said Georgie who, if the dark rings under her eyes were any indication, had not slept at all in the past five nights.

"I just don't understand....", Lydia began before Advik noticed Mats.

"Oi, it's our financial advisor. You got anything for us?"

"Not as such", said Mats, sitting next to Seb who had made room for him in the circle.

"What the hell does that mean", asked Eloise.

"Not so loud", said Advik, rubbing his head.

Advik had attended a rugby social the night before. From what the others had been able to get out of him, it had been less than genteel. (Footnote 1)

"It means it is not good. I can find nothing." Mats shrugged one shoulder. "I am not a lawyer, only an accounting student, but I can find nothing which will get us out of our contract. He has us tied up like something ... very tight."

"Good one genius", Eloise scoffed.

"Oh, shut up", said Georgie, pinching the bridge of her nose, trying to dim the headache of the sleep deprived.