Fear University

by Meg Collett

  He dumped a pile of clothes and a small bag on the bed next to my hip before roughly unlocking my cuffs. “Get cleaned up and meet me outside in five minutes.” He jerked his chin toward the door before leaving.

  I stretched out my arms and opened the bag. He’d brought me a pair of linen pants and a white shirt along with a pair of flats that looked like slippers. Also inside the bag was an unopened toothbrush, a travel-sized tube of toothpaste, a hairbrush, and a pair of lacy panties. I hooked them on the end of my pinkie and brought them up to eye level. Not that I minded a new pair of undies, but this was interesting.

  I made quick work of changing, glancing over my shoulder every couple of seconds to make sure the other patient was still asleep. He didn’t move. I pulled off my tattered and bloodied waitressing uniform, keeping my bra on, and wiggled into the panties before slipping the pants on. The material was strong and snug over my hips and sat high on my waist, but I liked them even if they weren’t exactly my style. Give me Converse and a leather jacket any day and I would be happy. I slid my feet into the slippers and carefully folded up my old clothes before using the sink to brush my teeth and wash the grime off my body. By the end, I looked halfway normal, and the guy on the cot still hadn’t stirred.

  Luke waited outside the door like he’s said. He’d changed into dark jeans and a clean gray thermal that pulled across his chest, outlining an impressive display of muscles. He gave me a brisk once-over before saying, “Follow me.”

  “Do you give all the girls new panties?” I asked, smiling sweetly up at him.

  “Who said they were new?”

  His retort stunned me too much to come up with a snappy reply. Without waiting for me, Luke set off down the hall outside of Sunny’s ward.

  The passageway was windowless and too bright with humming lights. I trailed behind Luke, letting my eyes slip over the metal doors spaced along the hall. Wanting to know if the doors contained prisoners or patients, I glanced at Luke before veering closer to the nearest room and peering into the small window at the top of the door.

  A withered old man laid on a starched white bed with wires and devices hooked up to him. It took me a moment to get past the equipment and actually see the man beneath it all, but when I did, I fought to hold down a gasp. The man’s face was disfigured, heaped with scars upon scars, all inky black. His nose was off center with a deep twist in the bridge. Black chasms resembling claw marks hollowed out his sallow cheeks. His right eye blinked back at me with a milky white color, his left one gone.

  “The nurses do what they can.” I jumped at Luke’s voice coming from right beside me. He gave the old man a nod and pulled me aside.

  “What’s wrong with him?” I shivered in the damp coolness of the hospital.

  Luke shrugged. “He’s a hunter. Was a hunter. Dying in a room like that, looking like that, driven half mad by ’swang saliva is a hunter’s future. Could be you in twenty years or so if you stay.”

  “But he looks so old.”

  “He’s thirty-nine, which is old for this lifestyle.”

  I kept seeing the hunter’s black scars and thought of the ones on Hatter’s face and those poking up from the hem of Luke’s collar. “Why do the scars turn black?”

  Luke lifted a shoulder in an uninterested shrug. “Doctors say it’s a localized infection, but we really aren’t that sure. Get too many, though, and you might turn into a ’swang.”

  My thoughts instantly returned to Sunny making me drink that water last night. I would have to thank her later. I still wanted extra antibiotics, though.

  Luke turned and walked off. With one final glance at the door, I hurried after him, a shiver creeping down my spine at the thought of spending another moment in here. Hospitals, when I’d gotten to go to one, had always comforted me. They were safe. But not this one. There was no healing here. Just death.

  “What is this place?” I asked.

  “Fear University.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I know that, but why are there sick people here?”

  Luke glanced at me as we walked, our steps echoing off the floors. I had the distinct impression we were underground, which made my skin itch. “This place trains hunters, but we also operate as a hospital for hunters who get injured in the nearby area.”

  “Must be a pretty big school.”

  “It’s a prison.”

  I screeched to a stop. “Excuse me?”

  Luke paused, cataloging my wild-eyed reaction. I knew I looked wild because I felt like one of those big animals locked in a small cage in some cheap zoo that smelled like shit and bleach. “The school operates under the cover of an old prison, but it’s not an actual prison. We used the pre-existing estate for the security and space.”

  His casualness made me snort. I shoved my hands behind my back to hide their shaking. After all this effort, all this running, I’d ended up in a prison anyway. “Oh really? You’re going to drop a bomb like that and act like it’s no big deal? We’re in a fucking prison!”

  Luke blinked. “So?”

  He waved me forward before continuing down the hall again. After a long reluctant moment, I followed. A large elevator took up the entire wall at the end of hall. It looked big enough to fit a gurney and a menagerie of doctors and nurses, possibly even the ambulance itself. But Luke avoided it and started up a twisting set of stairs made of crumbling concrete. This part of the prison showed its age in the slick tread worn down the middle stairs. Crude electrical wiring ran along the wall, connecting one light fixture to the next. That shit couldn’t be up to code, and I made sure to keep plenty of room between me and the wall.

  “What’s wrong with ’swang saliva?” I asked, thinking how Luke had mentioned old hunters were driven mad by it and wanting to distract myself from the fact that I was in a freaking prison.

  Luke grunted and picked up his speed. I caught glimpses of his back as he spiraled up the stairs faster and faster. I picked up my speed, my breath coming in shallow pants, my legs likely on fire from the exertion, but I didn’t feel their complaint. At the top, Luke glanced back at me, noting my lack of breath. He cocked a brow. “You’re out of shape.”

  “Bite me.”

  Luke’s expression stayed neutral, impassive, but his green eyes contained a promise of violence. “Not a good thing to say around here.”

  “Might get what I wish for?” I finally got a reaction from him when his jaw clenched. He didn’t like me talking back to him.

  He left the dark stairwell and stepped out onto the third floor. Windows filled the walls, letting the morning light stream in and warm the stone at my feet. For this place to be a prison, I hadn’t seen any barred doors or such yet. Actually, apart from the dark, confined ward, this floor was airy and bright though the stone floors and exposed bricked walls were a little dated. In contrast to the old architecture was a series of fluorescent lamps swaying slightly above our heads, their light reflecting off the windows.

  The third floor stretched out like a long runway in front of me, the right side lined with empty classrooms containing desks and wooden chairs lined neatly over the stone floors. One room was filled to the brim with so many weapons it looked like a torture room. The students’ desks were crammed somewhere in between the weapons protruding from the walls and floor. Abruptly the classrooms stopped, and the wall turned to one of solid glass that stretched the entire length of the hall. It was a large gym, where a handful of students sparred with each other, practicing on the weekend. They wore loose pants and white shirts like mine. Their feet were bare.

  As I passed, the students froze, fists still raised and mouths gaping open. Their eyes roved between me and Luke, their expression turning from one of disbelief when they looked at me to respectful intimidation when their attention went to Luke. Who was he that these students watched him like he was some kind of god?

  “What are they staring at?” I asked, glaring back at the students, refusing to be the first to look away.

  “Civilians aren’t m
eant to be here.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I muttered. “You keep saying that. So this really is a school.” I was kind of surprised. I guess I assumed everyone was lying to me when they called it Fear University.

  “You’re a sharp one.”

  “And you’re a jackass.”

  Down the hallway, away from the gym and other classrooms, someone screamed. “What the hell?” I grabbed Luke’s arm to slow his quick pace.

  “Fear simulator. It’s normal.”

  “It’s normal for people to scream here? And what’s a fear simulator?”

  He started walking again, calling over his shoulder as he went, “What does it sound like?”

  I rolled my eyes at his back but I had no choice but to follow him. I really wanted to meet this Dean and see what he had to say since he was apparently an important person here at Fear University. I kind of hated to admit it because I never liked getting my hopes up about anything—it left too much room for them to be crushed—but I was actually intrigued by this place.

  These people had nothing to do with Max, or else I would already be dead. And the school didn’t even look like a prison. Maybe it would have been more normal to be afraid, but I was just excited.

  We turned a corner, and I finally caught my first view of the prison’s estate. I screeched to a stop, shocked by the view. I ignored Luke’s impatient sigh as he waited for me.

  A bank of floor-to-ceiling windows lined the wall in the narrow alcove of offices. Outside revealed the familiar landscape of Kodiak Island, which meant Luke hadn’t lied about us staying on the island. Thick cottonwood and birch trees rose up into the crisp fall air; the sky blazed a clear, bright blue. There were buildings and even a small grouping of wind turbines peeking above the treeline. And beyond that . . .

  “Is that a fence?” I asked, shocked. It appeared gigantic, a massive wall of impenetrable stone, even from a distance. I made out the thick spirals of razor wire along the top and the watchtowers stationed at intervals along the fence.

  “This is a prison.”

  “It used to be,” I said, needing to clarify, but Luke walked farther into the alcove without a word. He stopped beside a thick cherry door. Before I knocked, he caught my wrist and pulled me to a stop. He loomed over me, a mere inch separating our bodies. I forced myself to meet his eyes even though he was doing a damn fine job at this intimidation game, but I wouldn’t back down. Heat rolled off of him in suffocating waves until I had to bite my tongue to keep from panting. I tried to jerk away to catch my breath.

  “This place will be a prison for an outsider like you. A death sentence. Whatever Dean asks you, you need to say no. Go home. Go home or you’ll die here.”

  I finally wrenched my arm free. “God, you’re so cheery, you know that?”

  “I’m serious, Ollie. This isn’t the place for you. If you have problems with that Max guy, I can take care of him for you. But you can’t stay.”

  His words startled me, shoved me off kilter. My harsh reply died in my mouth and I blinked up at him, wondering if he really meant what he said. But as I thought it, I knew the answer. He did. His squarely set shoulders, determined eyes, and tip-tapping fingers told me that he would follow through on any violent promise. I loosed a breath, and his eyes swept down to my lips.

  I froze. What was he thinking when he stared at me like that? Heat pooled in my belly; I sure as hell knew what I was thinking. It involved tackling him to the floor and dry humping.

  Disturbing my fantasy, the office door swung open and Mustache Guy stood in front of us. He coughed and Luke took a step back from me. “Thank you, Luke. I’ve got it from here.”

  The look that passed between Dean and Luke made it clear that Dean knew exactly what Luke had been doing before he opened the door. Neither man said anything for an awkward beat, their eyes searing into each other. “Thanks, Luke,” I said to break the tension.

  He was getting under my skin, and I really didn’t like it. Okay. Maybe I did. A little.

  I stepped inside the office, while Dean held the door open for me. Freshly baked scones and coffee filled the room with divine smells. My stomach rumbled.

  “Good morning, Miss Andrews. Please have a seat wherever you like. I’m Dean Bogrov, the President of Fear University.”

  So Dean wasn’t just an important guy at Fear University, he was the important guy. But I still stared him down with narrowed eyes and suspicion. “How do you know my last name?”

  My real last name. That I never used.

  Dean closed the office door and crossed over to his mahogany desk, which he took a seat behind. Reluctantly, I perched on the edge of a plush leather wingback chair facing his desk. I scraped the toe of my slipper on the Oriental rug beneath me, a nervous habit.

  “Don’t be alarmed. We pulled your file.” My file. I fought hard not to cringe at his words. If they had my file, they had everything. “This is as unusual for us as it is for you, Miss Andrews.” Dean smiled a warm, fatherly smile, and I hated myself for relaxing a teeny bit.

  “If you pulled my file, then you have to be government affiliated. And you know . . .” I took a deep breath. “You know about my warrant.”

  “Miss Andrews—”

  “It’s Ollie. Just Ollie.”

  “I see.” There was that smile again. “You’re a smart girl, Ollie. We are government affiliated, but only a very small committee of officials know we exist. This school, this place, is a legitimate effort to hunt and kill aswangs. Thank you for meeting with me.”

  I snorted. “Did I have a choice?”

  “Of course! Would you like some orange juice or water?” Dean waved a hand toward a small breakfast cart sitting in his office. The ice in the water was still frozen, drops of condensation rolling down the sides of the crystal carafe. Orange juice and coffee filled the other pitchers. I eyed the bagels and scones, my stomach rolling with hunger, but I shook my head. “No, thank you.”

  I never took food from strangers.

  While Dean poured himself some more coffee, I took the chance to examine his bookshelves, which lined every wall in his office but the one full of windows. I spotted a dagger, human skull, and a statue of an eagle amongst the books. A large map of the university hung on the wall behind Dean’s desk, covering a patch of the window. The desk itself was a vision of disaster: papers were strewn all over, held down by coffee mugs and opened books.

  “I trust Sunny took good care of you last night?” Dean asked, smiling. He sipped on a large mug of coffee. When he picked it up, I noticed it had left a damp circular stain on the paper beneath it.

  “She did.”

  “You took quite a beating. How do your hands and elbow feel?”

  “Fine.”

  Dean smiled even broader, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the desk. “You don’t talk much do you?”

  “Not to people I don’t trust.”

  He laughed, though it was more like a bellowing guffaw than a laugh. Loud and unrestrained. His hand rested on his slightly round belly, his mustache twitching. “I like that,” he managed, still laughing. “It’s good to not trust many people. That’s how you get hurt.”

  “Or how you get thrown in the back of vans and drugged.”

  My flat expression turned Dean serious. “You’re right. I apologize for our behavior. Finding you . . .” He shook his head, making me think he wanted to add more. “Well, let’s say that we’ve never dealt with something like this before.”

  “I’m something to be dealt with?”

  “Not at all.” When I merely glared, Dean leaned forward on his desk. Normally, I made people nervous, but I only intrigued this man. I didn’t know if that should worry me more or not. “You could help us, Ollie.”

  I sat back in my chair and crossed my legs. “I’m not helping anybody until I get some straight answers.”

  Dean mimicked my position in his own chair and took a long sip of coffee. “By all means, fire away,” he said, smiling once again. I waited a mo
ment to see if he was serious, but he merely waited patiently. I took my chance.

  “I want to know what you people are doing here and what these things are.”

  “They’re called aswangs, but we call them ’swangs around here. Since the beginning of time, man and ’swangs have walked this earth together. They originated in the Philippines but many migrated north to Russia, then to Alaska, Canada, and Greenland. They walk among us, going mostly unnoticed in the daytime and nighttime, feeding off our fear, making the attacks look like a rabid animal. But since the beginning of man, there’s always been a group of people who fight the ’swangs to keep the world in balance, and when the ’swangs came north, so did select hunter families from the Philippines. They joined up with the Alaskan native tribes, and over time, the families started intermingling and marrying outside of the original groups, which is how we have the amount of hunter families we have now. Next.”

  He was playing along with the notion I was in control of the meeting and asking the questions, so I continued while my luck held, even as I processed the fact that Sunny’s superstitious remedies now made sense. “How does no one else know about this war? If you’re government affiliated, why doesn’t the United States drop a nuke on a ’swang den or something?”

  “The war is a secret for humanity’s own well-being, and because it isn’t going well. The balance is tipping toward the ’swangs. They’re reproducing faster than we can kill them. If we lose control . . .” Dean’s humor faded away, his eyes searching the depth of his coffee like he wished there was a glug of whiskey mixed in. “If we lose control, this entire world would become one big fear concentration camp, where humans live in terror and the ’swangs lap it up like honey. Humanity would be lost.”

  I’d never cared much for humanity, which sounded awful but it was true. People didn’t treat me well, and, in return, I never treated them well. But I thought about Sunny and the young man lying down in the ward with his throat nearly ripped out. “What about you and Luke and all those kids out there training?”