The Afterlife Academy (5 page)

W
alter heard a slurping sound, as if a dentist were suctioning saliva out of his mouth. A force yanked his body through the door in Darwin's office, and he plunged through a blindingly white column of light. Before he had time to scream, he was standing in a closet. There were shoe boxes on the floor and a hamper of dirty clothing next to him. Walter took a moment to control his breathing, and then peered through the slats in the closet door.

It looked like someone had hung about fifty graduation robes to dry on a clothesline. What were they doing hanging up in a bedroom? Then Walter realized that the robes were moving and had faces. Tall, ghastly creatures with red eyes, quivering mouths, and dark, bony fingers hovered in a circle around the room. All of them were focused on the redheaded boy shivering on the bed.

“Dude, get out of here!” Walter shouted at his HLT as he burst out of the closet.

Charlie didn't acknowledge Walter, but the shades let out a collective squeal. Several floating closest to Walter swarmed nearer, zapping him with electric energy from their fingertips.

“That stings!” yelled Walter.

“Do
not
interfere!” one of the creatures hissed.

“Begone!” said another.

Walter quickly backed up into the closet and held up his hands to surrender. “Okay, take it easy.”

The creatures withdrew and rejoined the circle.

Frosted breath plumed from Charlie's lips. He was wearing pajamas and appeared to be reading a book, completely unaware of the atrocity happening all around him.

Did this sort of thing happen all the time during the first day on the job? Walter poked his head slightly out of the closet. Maybe he would find another kid from the Academy surveying the crime scene. Maybe this was just a training session. Maybe Walter was in the wrong room.

But there was no one else. And no way for him to get back to Darwin's office. Walter had forgotten to ask for one of those little white clips that would allow him to get back to the Academy. He was stuck. Walter pressed his hand against the wall. It passed right through. The sensation tingled in his fingertips. He didn't mind it after a few moments, but he gaped openmouthed at his vanishing hand nonetheless.

“No way!” Could he also float and fly like those black robes in the bedroom? Concentrating on an image of himself drifting up toward the ceiling, Walter closed his eyes and tried to fly. Nothing happened. Behind him, several of the creatures cackled, bringing him back into reality. He watched them swirling around Charlie. What was he supposed to do? There were so many of them, and their fingers hurt.

“I'll go get help!” Walter whispered, even though Charlie couldn't hear him. He strode forward and approached the rear of the closet. He'd entered from there. Maybe if he stepped back through that same wall, he'd end up in Darwin's office. Walter closed his eyes and immediately started giggling. Passing through walls tickled in the worst sort of way.

When he stopped giggling, he had exited to the other side of the wall. But instead of seeing Darwin and that enormous lion statue, Walter found a little girl in pigtails standing in front of a bathroom mirror, brushing her teeth and gargling as she sang.

The girl spat into the sink, stuck out her tongue at her reflection, and said, “Die, sugar bugs, die!”

“Hey, little girl, where's Darwin?” Walter asked.

The girl sucked her toothbrush dry and chomped her teeth together. She did not notice Walter.

Deciding to take a more drastic approach, Walter reached for the girl's arm, but his hand passed effortlessly through her, as it had done with the wall.

“Mom!” the girl shouted at the bathroom door. “Charlie left his towel on the floor, and his dirty underwear, too!” From somewhere else in the house came a woman's muffled response. Then the girl started slurping water from the running faucet.

Obviously, Walter was invisible to human beings, including little pigtailed girls.

Walter threw his hands in the air. “This is stupid! Darwin, can you hear me?”

Silence.

“Look, about that exam—I just made it all up!”

Nothing.

He ran back to Charlie's bedroom. The chanting had grown to a thunderous level. The room, which had been overly crowded before, now swarmed with more dark spirits. Even though light poured from Charlie's bedside lamp, Walter could hardly see his target in the midst of the swirling black masses. The boy had slumped over and was twitching and seizing in rhythm with their chanting. A large form started taking shape near the ceiling above Charlie's bed. The object dwarfed the other spirits and became less distorted as the chanting grew louder. Tentacles stretched from what looked like a grotesque woman dressed all in black. Her hair stood on end as if electrified, and her bulbous white eyes protruded from their sockets.

“That can't be good!” Why was Charlie Dewdle just lying there, slumped over like a moron? Any reasonable kid would've left by now. Couldn't he sense something terrible was about to happen? There were too many creatures for Walter to fight, and how would he even do that in the first place? His pulse quickened. He couldn't fail his assignment within the first hour.

Walter jabbed his hand in his pocket and pulled out the ready-reference pamphlet. Five folded pages with large boldface type, a couple of pictures of Guardian Agents in various poses, and a few step-by-step bullet points of instruction were all he found.

“This is it?” He pored over the pamphlet ravenously, sheer panic overwhelming him.

STEP 1—ASSESS THE SITUATION.
Agents should never act until they have properly assessed the level of danger. A calm demeanor will…

Yeah, whatever! There was no need to stop and assess the level of danger. There was no doubt—it was bad. He skipped to Step 2.

STEP 2—IDENTIFY THE ENEMY.
Agents should know the makeup and constitution of each level of dark creature, from the basic Underworld nuisance to the most threatening demon.

Walter looked at the accompanying pictures as he read.

Consider this on a four-point scale, with one being the easiest enemy to engage and four being the deadliest.

LEVEL 1—SHADES.
Composed of wispy, dark material and generally characterized by their high-pitched squealing and whimsical flight patterns, shades pose the lowest threat to Agents. Avoid attacking them in groups of five or more and be wary of their touch, which, although causing no permanent threat or harm, can induce a slightly uncomfortable jarring sensation.

Walter's eyes shot up from the book as he remembered what was more than a slightly uncomfortable sensation when the shades had zapped him.

“Right. Shades.” His eyes darted around the room. “More than five. Definitely more than five! What happens when there's more than five? Darwin, you've got to hear me!”

The giant creature floating above the bed had grown more distinct. The chanting continued from the shades, and the monster's eyes homed in on their target. If Walter failed to act, Charlie didn't stand a chance. Walter looked back down at the pamphlet.

LEVEL 2—WRAITHS.
Humanoid in shape and characterized by bloodred cloaks and scythelike claws, wraiths make formidable opponents. Avoid staring directly into their eyes, as this will inflict immediate paralysis, and do not, under any circumstances…

“Blah, blah, blah!” Walter scanned the room. No wraiths yet, so no need to dwell on them. What he needed to know was the level of the hideous floating woman in the center of the room. The one almost completely formed into an evil octopus lady.

LEVEL 3—DARK OMENS.
Like wraiths, Dark Omens are humanoid in shape. Despite having several extra tentacle-like appendages, they are entirely female in appearance. Primarily used as harbingers of death and frequently referred to as banshees, or miseries, Dark Omens always pose an immediate threat to the life of an Agent's HLT (High-Level Target). Dark Omens are the only creatures capable of transporting living humans directly to the Underworld against their will.

Walter reread that line. Transporting living humans to the Underworld? That didn't sound fun.

Unpredictable and deadly, Dark Omens use their unnatural abilities only on rare occasions. Refrain from direct confrontation, as their voices are capable of shattering spiritual bones. Never engage alone…

LEVEL 4—DEMONS.
Demons are the rulers of the Underworld and control Levels 1 to 3. They themselves have a variety of classifications, from lesser to…

Walter didn't need to read any further. There were no demons in the room, from what he could see, but this was not going to be easy. If he didn't think of some sort of plan of action, Walter's HLT would be transported to the Underworld by Old Ugly.

“Come on, Walter. The head of the Afterlife Academy believes you can do this. You can do this.”

The chanting came to a chilling conclusion, and the banshee was now fully formed. One of its spectral tentacles drifted down and grazed Charlie's cheek. Charlie writhed and began to convulse.

Walter took several quick breaths and readied himself to do something totally insane.

“Hey, losers! Why don't you pick on someone your own size?”

The outburst startled the shades. Snarling, they surrounded Walter.

“Begone! Do not interfere! We shall attack!” Their voices hissed like the sound of air leaking from a tire.

Walter had a respectable record when it came to after-school fights. He had no clue if his hands would pass right through the shades like everything else, but it was worth a shot. He swung his right fist and connected with the midsection of the closest shade. He felt an electric bolt go up his arm, but like a black towel in a dryer, the shade tumbled, releasing an agonizing cry. Walter stared at the creature. He could hurt the shades! He snapped his eyes toward the others.

“Leave well enough alone!” a voice called from somewhere in the middle of the crowd. “Do not interfere!”

“Yeah, you said that already.” Walter flexed his fingers in and out of a balled fist. “Now get out of my way, or I'll thump every one of you!” He brought both hands up, squaring off like a boxer. To his surprise, the shades retreated a few paces.

One of them extended its arm to shock him, but Walter reacted with a right hook to the creature's hooded skull. Squeals erupted. Walter felt his jaw chatter from the electricity passing through him, but he was causing more damage to the shades than they were to him.

“Want some more?” He made a few sparring jabs. Their cloaks flapped. Their eyes narrowed. Yet they seemed to fear him.

Undeterred, the banshee wrapped a tentacle around Charlie's throat and into the unconscious boy's mouth.

“Back off, ugly!” Walter shouted. The banshee paid him no attention, alert only to its prey. Walter highly doubted his uppercuts would have the same effect on the wriggling Dark Omen. Should he hop on top of it? Wrestle it? Maybe take jabs at its eyes with his fingers?

The tentacle slithered deeper into Charlie's throat. Walter didn't have time to check his pamphlet, but he guessed a banshee's tentacle in anyone's mouth was not a good idea. Walter raced toward the banshee.

The surrounding shades attacked, zapping him from all sides with electricity. Fifty different strikes hit him in the chest, the back, and the head. His vision blurred. His knees felt gooey. Walter punched, kicked, and head-butted his way through the swarm. The shades weren't happy with their injuries, but Walter was losing. And so was Charlie. Three more tentacles had entered Charlie's mouth.

Walter made one final charge, propelling himself through the air with the last of his energy. He fell through the banshee and collapsed flat on top of Charlie.

C
harlie opened his eyes and blinked as torrential rain peppered his bedroom window.

“Yuck!” He gagged and stuck out his tongue. He had eaten part of a dead toad once. Not his idea, of course. Grady Hinkens had forced him to eat it in third grade. This tasted worse.

Charlie pawed at his eyes with his palms, wondering if he had fallen asleep in a coat closet. What was with all the cloaks hanging everywhere?

Several pairs of eyes peered out from the cloaks, and Charlie sucked in a breath. Moving fabric flapped about him, as if blown by a strong wind. Above him, floating near his ceiling, an ugly woman gaped, openmouthed.

Charlie could smell sulfurous brimstone, even taste the pungent flavors on his tongue. His skin felt cold, and everything around him seemed in perfect focus. All of his senses seemed to be functioning properly. What kind of dream could do that?

“Don't just sit there, doofus, get out of here.” A boy's voice, loud and piercing, sounded in Charlie's ears.

“What?” Charlie exclaimed, spinning around in search of the source of the voice. “Who said that?”

“You can hear me?”

“Yes, I can hear you!” Charlie's heart leapt into his throat as the woman above him released a shuddering scream and then rapidly dissolved into the ceiling. The cloaks circled around him, glaring with evil red eyes and squealing like baby pigs. They were not pieces of clothing at all. Charlie remembered seeing something like them in his books on paranormal creatures.

Shades!

What were shades doing in his room?

But as soon as he noticed them, they vanished. Charlie clutched his hand to his chest. He collapsed backward onto his pillow. The rain on the window settled until only a few sporadic drops kissed the glass. “Mom's fried okra and those onions,” he babbled. “They always give me bad dreams. Get a grip, Charlie.”

“That wasn't a dream,” the boy's voice said.

Charlie jerkily sat up. “Is this some kind of prank? Real funny.”

“It's not a prank. How can you hear me?” the boy asked.

“With my ears. I'm not deaf. Where are you hiding?” Charlie dropped to the floor and snapped the cover up to peer under his bed. He pushed around a few boxes of old toys but found no one under there. Racing toward the closet, he kicked the T-shirts aside, ready to scream for his parents if anyone appeared. But the closet stood empty as well. He must be losing his mind. Charlie sat down on his bed, removed his socks, and yawned as he fluffed his pillow.

“You're not going to sleep, are you?” the boy's voice asked. “Not after all that.”

Charlie flung himself at his bedroom door, wrenching it open.

“Aha!” He stared out into an empty hallway. His shoulders slumped in surrender. “I give up. Please come out and show yourself.”

The boy began to laugh. But the laughter sounded bewildered rather than scathing. “I didn't think anyone living could hear me.”

“Well, congratulations,” Charlie said. “I guess I'm the lucky— Wait. What do you mean, ‘anyone
living
'?” The voice chuckled, and the tiny red hairs on the back of Charlie's neck prickled. “That's it. I'm getting my dad.”

“At this hour?”

It was dark out, but Charlie couldn't remember getting ready for bed or kissing his mom goodnight. He glanced at the hall clock. Just after midnight. His dad had to wake up early every morning for work and wouldn't appreciate having his sleep interrupted. But what choice did Charlie have?

“What are you going to tell him? That you're hearing voices?” the voice chattered right behind Charlie's ear, and he whirled to face the intruder. Only his reflection peered back at him from the hallway mirror.

“This isn't funny. I don't want to play this game anymore.” His eyes darted left to right and even shot up, as if expecting to see someone hanging from the light fixture.

“Look, dude, you're not going to believe this, but I'm standing…inside you.”