The Academy: Book 2 (64 page)

Finally, Asa decided that he couldn’t take it anymore. He wanted out. He pushed the desk out a couple of inches before Jen firmly grabbed his arm.

              “What the hell are you doing?” she whispered.

             
Asa’s mouth was dry. “I want to leave.”

             
“It’s too late now. It’s ten past eight. They’ll be here any second.”

             
Jen pulled the desk back, and took Asa’s hand. She made him run his fingers over her armband. Because the armband’s display was comprised of computerized threads, Asa could feel the time on the armband.

             
8:11 PM

             
Asa’s heart felt like it was beating in his throat. He looked through one of the holes in the back of the desk and didn’t see anything but darkness in the classroom, and in the foyer beyond. All was silent. Jen was right; it was too late to back out now. Asa wondered if Multipliers had a heightened olfactory sense. If so, they’d be able to smell that there were three humans in the classroom.

             
If they do,
Asa thought,
there is nothing I can do about it now.

             
FLICK

             
Asa’s breath halted where it was in his throat.
I heard a noise, I’m sure of it.
He felt Jen’s body tighten beside his; she had heard it too.

             
All was quiet for another moment. Asa’s eyes scanned the thick darkness for Multipliers.
How many of them will there be? Two? Ten? Fifty?

             
FLICK

             
There’s that noise,
Asa thought, but again, everything was quiet and there was nothing to see in the dark classroom or beyond the doorway. Asa wondered how Bruce was doing in the restraining closet. Asa supposed that Bruce would be able to use his power to detect both himself and Jen under the desk, along with any Multipliers that entered the vicinity.

             
FLICK

             
Asa was certain that he had heard something that time. His eyes locked on the area in the dark foyer where he believed the noise originated, and it happened again.

             
FLICK

             
Asa was now able to see what was making the noise—a lighter. There was now a green-blue flame issuing from the top of the lighter, which illuminated the surrounding areas in a soft, aqua light.

             
Asa felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. His hands instinctively balled themselves into fists.

             
Standing there, in the glow of the small flame was a female trying to light a cigarette. She had thick, one-inch black bangs, and the rest of her hair fell down to her shoulders in a Cleopatra haircut. Her eyes were heavily shadowed in smoky makeup, and her lips were a stark red. She was slender. She wore a leather jacket that went down to her black boots. There was not a zipper, but instead, one side of the jacket was connected with three leather straps that could be threaded through three large silver buckles on the other side. At the moment, her jacket was open. Beneath her jacket, she wore a dress, and the skirt ended ten inches above her skinny knees and showed almost the entirety of her pale legs.

             
Asa was just beginning to notice that there was someone else standing behind her when the lighter flame cut off. Now, all was dark except for the glowing end of a cigarette out in the foyer. It was bouncing up and down, as though the female holding it had Parkinson’s disease.

             
“
Put that out!”
came a hushed growl from the foyer. The noise was unmistakably from a Multiplier—Asa knew that human’s couldn’t talk in that low of a tone.

             
The cigarette wavered, as though the female was taking it out of her mouth.
“Screw you!”
she slurred. She sounded drunk.

             
“Seriously,
put that out!” growled the low voice again. Asa couldn’t see the source of this voice, and he wondered how many of them there were. “What if the Sharks come in here and see your cigarette? Get back into hiding!”

             
Asa was alarmed to realize that several Multipliers had snuck into the foyer without him noticing.
Did they hear Jen and I whispering a moment ago? Did they hear the desk move as I pushed it out from the wall? Did they hear it when Jen moved it back?

             
The cigarette’s red glow intensified for a moment as the female took a hard drag. “They’re not coming. We were given bad information from that brat, Stan.”

             
Now a third voice came from the foyer. This one was unmistakably male, and he sounded big. “Both of you, be quiet. Let’s wait another twenty minutes. If they’re not here by eight thirty, they’re not coming.”

             
“Yes, sir, Allen,” came the low, rumbling voice.

             
The cigarette end glowed a brighter red. The female spoke: “And then are we jetting out of here, or what?”

             
Allen’s voice came back low and contemplative. “I want to investigate the classroom before we go.”

             
After this, it was silent. The female finished her cigarette, and then Asa watched as the glowing tip dropped to the ground and was extinguished with the heel of her boot.

             
Jen put her mouth up to Asa’s ear and whispered very softly—“Do Multipliers have a mutated sense of smell? Can they smell us?”

             
I was wondering the same thing,
Asa thought. Seeing no point in telling Jen this, he whispered back, “No.”

             
After he said this, he was acutely concerned that he had whispered too loud.
Do they have super hearing?
He couldn’t remember. As he sat there, he felt his stomach gurgle, but it did not growl audibly. He knew that he should eat again, but he didn’t dare reach into his pocket to pull out another food item.

             
Why did Allen say that he wanted to investigate the classroom? Had he heard something? Can he smell us?

             
Time went by without a sound. Asa wondered how Bruce was doing in the closet. He wished he hadn’t come.
What good is it to have three of us here? We really only needed one.

He wondered if the Multipliers would kill them if they were caught, or if they would turn them into Multipliers.
They’ll probably turn us. That way we can help them in whatever attack they’re planning.

Asa had to stifle a groan at this thought. He would rather be dead, he believed, than turned into a Multiplier.

Again, Asa was overcome with that odd, unshakable premonition that he would be bitten. He shivered, and stared out into the dark foyer. He could only see shadows. He wondered if Edna, Michael, and Joney were with them. The Multipliers he had heard speaking didn’t sound like the ones he had encountered in the woods.

FLICK

A shaking blue-green flame erupted from the female’s lighter and she directed the tip of her cigarette into the fire and inhaled.

“
Damnit, Rose! Allen told you to…”
the low voice began.

Rose retorted quickly, cutting the low voice off—“Shut it, Ned! It’s past eight thirty, you idiot—
they’re not coming!
Allen, what’s the plan?” She took another drag.

Asa’s breath caught again in his throat as he remembered that Stan had said the Multiplier he had met with in the woods had been named Allen.
This is the guy that broke Stan’s wrist, and has been giving him all those bruises. This is the Multiplier that made Stan so scared that he vomited. Allen is the reason that Stan’s eyes kept nervously glancing at the door while he was talking to me in Viola’s dwelling.

“Let’s go in the classroom.” Asa heard shoes clicking on the concrete floor as Allen quickly approached the room. He flicked on the fluorescent lights, and it took Asa’s eyes a moment to adjust.

The one that Asa believed to be Allen was tall (roughly 6’4”), with finger-length messy blond hair. He was wearing a blue button down tucked into a pair of black pants. He had a crooked black tie on, and his dark shoes were shined to perfection. Allen had long arms that hung beside his hips and ended in big hands—they reminded Asa of an orangutan’s arms.

Beside Allen was the cigarette smoking, trench coat wearing female—Rose. She took a drag and exhaled blue smoke into the room. There was only one other Multiplier with them, and Asa assumed this one was the source of the low voice he had heard. Rose had called him Ned.

Ned reminded Asa of some of the oil field workers he had seen growing up in Texas. He stood just under than six feet tall, but looked like he outweighed Allen by twenty pounds of muscle. He looked like a linebacker. His thick arms filled out his flannel shirt, which was unbuttoned to reveal a stained white wife-beater underneath. He wore jeans and brown work boots. He had an enormous jaw, and a protruding forehead. He looked like a bulldog. His head was shaved except for a strip of short brown hair that ran vertically over his head—a short and thick Mohawk.

Allen walked in, straightened his tie, and licked his lips with a black tongue. Every movement he made was fast and sure. He looked around the room, and something in the way his blue eyes systematically took note of his surroundings made Asa come to the conclusion that Allen was very smart.

Asa felt naked underneath the desk. He retreated further into the darkness and wished he were anywhere else in the world.

Rose moved into he room with an unsteady gait and knelt down on the concrete on her bare knees. The cigarette was shaking in the corner of her mouth, and her eyes were bloodshot. She reached a jittering hand into her coat pocket and pulled out a small bag of white-yellow powder.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Ned asked.

“Heroin. What does it look like?” She untied the bag and poured a hefty line onto the top
of one of the desks.

Allen wasn’t paying attention to Rose. He was standing a couple feet back from the blackboard with his fingers interlaced in front of him. He was examining the Winggame plays.

“That’s going to kill you, you idiot! You can’t snort heroin! You’ll die!” Ned looked angry.

Rose laughed musically. “Honey, I know you’ve only been a Multiplier for a few weeks, but something that you need to learn is that it’s hard to kill us. We’re like cockroaches. We’re a lot sturdier than those fragile little humans.” She bent over the heroin, plugged one of her nostrils, and snorted heavily. As soon as the drug was in her system, her eyes drooped a little.

“
You’re high!”
Ned’s voice was rising, and his hands were thrown up in frustration.
“When we’re on a mission from the Hive, we’re supposed to do our best work! How are we supposed to do our best work when you’re high!”

Rose stood on shaky feet; her knees were wobbling, and for a moment, Asa thought that she might fall over. She poked Ned’s chest with one of her petite fingers. “I may be high,” she slurred, “but you’re a prude. The Hive isn’t my boss here, Allen is. And I don’t hear Allen bitchin. I hear you bitchin. So shut your mouth.”

Ned’s face had turned red and veins were popping out on his forehead.