The Afterlife Academy

by Frank L. Cole

  “Wisdom Willows is the most famous paranormal researcher in the country,” Charlie said. “Maybe even the world. He has hundreds of thousands of fans, and he’s the keynote speaker at the Wraith Festival this year. All those people outside are here because of him.”

  “Wow!” Charlie’s mom exclaimed, impressed. “And he’s your friend?”

  “Yeah, well, not exactly.” Charlie shifted in his seat. “But finding The Summoner’s Handbook is huge. It’s like the biggest paranormal find ever. And I found it, so…”

  “Ooh, look at me!” Walter mocked. “Aren’t I the big cheese?”

  Charlie felt severely underdressed. The guests of the Ritz-Carlton looked dolled up for some sort of expensive dinner. They wore suits and dresses, but each of them also wore masks as though they were attending a creepy masquerade ball.

  Charlie watched his dad, still dressed in his work uniform, snag a steaming cookie from a plate at the front desk, much to the alarm of the receptionist.

  “Can I help you?” she asked from behind the counter.

  Charlie’s dad stared at her, munched his cookie, and said, “No, I don’t think so.”

  Thunder rumbled in the distance.

  “Did you hear that?” Walter asked.

  Charlie nodded. “Yep, we better hurry.”

  The officer escorted them to room 406, then left to return to his post. The gold trim of crown molding sparkled around the opening of the door.

  “Fancy,” Mr. Dewdle said breathlessly as Charlie knocked on the door.

  “Just let me handle this, okay?” Charlie whispered quickly. “Don’t do anything to embarrass me.”

  “Really?” his mom said.

  The door opened, and a skinny man, maybe midforties, with short black hair parted down the middle, greeted the Dewdles. He had a thin mustache and wore brown-rimmed glasses and a fanny pack around his waist.

  “Good evening!” the man said, and then a look of surprise filled his eyes when he saw Charlie’s parents. “Oh my, so many of you!”

  “Hello,” Charlie’s mom said. “Are you Charlie’s friend Willie?”

  The man’s eyes, magnified by the thick lenses, blinked in confusion.

  “Mom, his name is Wisdom.” Charlie covered his eyes with his hand.

  “Sorry,” she whispered. “Mr. Wisdom, nice to meet you.”

  Wisdom Willows offered a slight bow. “Welcome to my humble lodgings. I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  “What a dork,” Walter mumbled. “Is that a fanny pack? Do people still even wear those things?”

  Wisdom’s mustache twitched, and his eyes darted among the three Dewdles as if unsure who to greet first. Then he shook his head and held out his hand. “You must be Charlie. And are these your parents?” Charlie’s dad and mom shook Wisdom’s hand in turn. “Lovely! I trust you found the hotel easily enough? Come in, come in!” The group entered Wisdom’s room. “What did you think of all the wonderful decorations for the festival?”

  Charlie’s dad smirked. “Some might call them decorations, while others would call them pieces of—”

  “You loved them, didn’t you, Dad?” Charlie eyed his father.

  “Sure,” his dad said. “I was going to say pieces of art.” Then he fell silent.

  “I understand you’ve got quite a problem,” Wisdom said. “Did you bring it? Is it…in there?” He gestured eagerly to the backpack. Charlie nodded, and Wisdom’s eyes lit up brighter. “Well, well, sit down, make yourselves at home. I should have some room service here shortly. Stuffed squash, pickled beets, venison.”

  “Ick!” Charlie’s dad made a sour face, and his wife swatted his chest with the back of her hand.

  “Sit, sit!” Wisdom said again.

  Seated at a table in a kitchen almost larger than the one in the Dewdles’ apartment, Charlie gazed around the room. Wisdom Willows had set up tons of electronic equipment. Computer towers and monitors, radio-transmitting devices, giant EMF detector screens with green squiggly lines bouncing and chirping. He had plastered the walls with poster-sized photographs of hazy paranormal images and ramshackle buildings. A dry-erase board with scribbled words and symbols stood next to a leather couch.

  Wisdom flourished his hand behind him. “Yes, my work never ceases, even when I’m on somewhat of a…vacation. But never mind that. Let’s look at the item. Charlie’s mom, Charlie’s dad, if it’s all right with you, may I discuss this with Charlie alone?”

  “Alone?” Charlie’s mom said, and looked warily at her husband. “You want us to leave?”

  “Oh no! That would be absurd. Why don’t you have a seat in the living room and watch some television while we wait for our food. There’s bound to be some sort of sporting event going on somewhere.”

  Mr. Dewdle brightened. “That should be fine. Come along, Dana. Let’s see if we can catch the last of the Royals game.” They wandered into the next room, and a few moments later, the television clicked on. Charlie could hear a muffled conversation begin and his father grumble something incoherent.

  Wisdom’s lips stretched thin. “Ah, it’s the blue button on the controller. That’ll change the channel,” he said, which seemed to satisfy Charlie’s parents.

  “So, may I see it?” Wisdom stroked the end of his mustache with a ringed finger. From outside, a gentle patter of raindrops commenced against the window. The storm had reached Conrad early.

  “It’s raining,” Walter whispered. “Keep an eye out.”

  Charlie unzipped the backpack and slid the heavy, ancient book across the table. Wisdom pressed the tips of his fingers together before gingerly opening the cover. Several moments passed as he perused, his smile growing wider and wider after each page. When he glanced at the page at the end containing the smaller characters, he gasped. Then he sniffed the book, his nostrils flaring wider with each breath.

  “What’s he going to do next? Taste it?” Walter asked.

  “How rude,” Wisdom muttered, looking up quickly from the book. “I didn’t even offer you a drink. Would you like a soda? A juice? Some ice water?” He clinked the ice in his glass.

  Charlie shook his head. “No, I’m not thirsty.”

  “This is indeed a treasured find.” Wisdom patted the book. “Tell me again where you found it?”

  “In a hole behind an abandoned shopping mall.”

  Wisdom laughed. “Indeed! A shopping mall? In Gabbiter, Iowa, of all places.” He seemed genuinely impressed.

  “Yeah, I know.” Charlie still felt completely starstruck, sitting this close to such a celebrity. Wisdom Willows was discussing paranormal matters as if Charlie were one of his most trusted friends. “Mr. Willows?”

  “Come now. Call me Wisdom.”

  “Wisdom. I think there’s something else dangerous going on with this book.”

  “You do?”

  “Yeah. We—I—think there’s a conspiracy at the Afterlife Academy.”

  Wisdom leaned slightly forward. “How intriguing! Why do you think that?”

  “Well, there’s this guy named Alton. And I think he may have done something to try to get control of The Summoner’s Handbook.”

  “You need to tell him more than that!” Walter chimed in. “At least tell him where Alton works.”

  Charlie flared his nostrils. How was he supposed to explain to Wisdom how he knew Alton without revealing anything about Walter? Would Wisdom believe Charlie if he told him he had a Guardian Agent?

  “Let’s discuss your theory in a moment.” Wisdom drummed his fingers on the book. “Now, back to this. You said you’ve read some of the pages.”

  “Uh…yeah,” Charlie said.

  “The one in the back?” Wisdom clarified. “The decoding page?” He opened the book and pointed anxiously to the back page.

  “Just like you said.”

  “And you can read this whole book now?”

  Charlie scratched his head nervously. Hadn’t he already explained all this to Wisdom online?

  “Char
lie, I think there’s something wrong,” Walter muttered. “Have you ever told Wisdom that you live in Gabbiter?” he asked. “I don’t remember you writing that online.”

  Wisdom’s head tilted slightly to the side. “I don’t like your friend, Charlie,” he whispered. “Please tell him to keep quiet.”

  Charlie opened his mouth to question, but someone knocked on the door.

  “Ah, room service. It’s about time. I’m sure you’re famished!” Wisdom stood and left the kitchen.

  “What’s going on? Doesn’t this seem weird to you?” Walter asked frantically. “He totally heard me!”

  “Yeah, maybe, but I think he could be talking about something else. He is kind of odd. Maybe he wasn’t talking about you.”

  “Wake up, dude! Willows can hear me!”

  “I can’t be the only one who can hear spirits. Maybe it’s more normal than we think.”

  Walter scoffed. “It’s not normal!” He paused. “Where’s The Summoner’s Handbook?”

  Charlie’s eyes shot toward the table where Wisdom had been sitting. He bent over and looked underneath each of the chairs.

  “I guess he must’ve taken it with him to the door.”

  Lightning and thunder erupted outside, and rain began to pour, pelting the hotel with a deluge of water.

  “Why would he do that? Why would he take the book?”

  But before Charlie could answer, Wisdom pranced back into the room, clutching The Summoner’s Handbook in his arms.

  “See?” whispered Charlie.

  “Who’s ready for dinner?” asked their polite host.

  But Charlie didn’t even hear what he said. Standing behind Wisdom was a massive form that filled the room from floor to ceiling. At least nine feet tall, the creature had golden-brown skin, muscular arms, and gigantic tusks jutting from its mouth. A single bloodshot eye blinked at the top of its face as it gazed hungrily down upon Charlie.

  “Charlie and, ah, Walter Prairie, I believe”—Wisdom gestured with his hand to the monster—“I’d like you to meet my friend Hoonga.” He pulled a large, glowing purple orb from his fanny pack, which Charlie immediately recognized as an enormous piece of Celestial stone. “Make it quick!” Wisdom commanded.

  Charlie stared. How was Wisdom involved in this?

  “Running would be great right about now!” Walter shouted.

  But Charlie couldn’t move. The betrayal of his idol and the sight of the Cyclops was too much for him. His blood seemed to stop pumping through his veins, and he stood stone-still.

  With a motion faster than the lightning striking, Hoonga thrust his hand through Charlie’s chest and yanked Walter out of him.

  The giant demon had Walter trapped in his hands. Powerless, he watched two other creatures with lizard heads and wiry insect arms and legs crash into the hotel room and seize Charlie, who was knocked unconscious when the demon removed Walter. He flopped around like a rag doll as one of the demons tossed him over its shoulder. From out of the living room, four more disgusting demons emerged, carrying Charlie’s parents. They were bound with thick cords and appeared to be unconscious as well. Walter couldn’t understand how the demons could carry them. Charlie was different from other humans because of his involvement with The Summoner’s Handbook. But the creatures shouldn’t have affected Charlie’s parents, unless the demons in Wisdom’s hotel had somehow become unusually powerful. Did the sudden influx of power come from Wisdom’s control? Had he used the book?

  Ronald hadn’t exaggerated when he’d said reversing a spiritual possession was painful. Walter’s arms burned from Hoonga’s touch, and he whimpered in pain. He knew Charlie had felt it as well, from his screams when Hoonga yanked them apart and the fact that he’d lost consciousness. Walter had failed.

  Utterly failed.

  Had it happened when he’d first arrived on the scene, Walter would’ve chalked it up to a rookie mistake and moved on. But now Charlie was his friend. What would happen to him? What would happen to his family?

  “Take care of him,” Wisdom ordered the demon he’d called Hoonga. “Then meet me later to complete the ceremony.”

  “With pleasure!” Hoonga licked his tusks.

  Wisdom commanded that the other demons carry Charlie and his parents out of the room, then turned to Walter before exiting to leave Hoonga to do his dirty work. “You’ve certainly been a troublemaker, haven’t you? I wish I could stay and watch this, but I’m a little preoccupied. I trust you’ll understand. Oh, and nice shorts.”

  Walter glanced down and frowned. He had forgotten all about his clothing, and he remembered how pristine Ronald had looked in his gleaming white uniform. Where was Walter’s uniform? Where were his weapons for self-defense?

  “I’m going to rip out your essence, wad it up into a teeny, tiny ball, and then swallow you like a lemon drop,” Hoonga said once Wisdom had left.

  “What’s going to happen to Charlie?” Walter asked.

  “Do not speak to me!” Hoonga stomped his elephant foot on the hotel floor.

  “Tell me! What are they going to do to Charlie?” Walter stared defiantly into Hoonga’s solitary eyeball.

  A smile cracked the demon’s scowl. “His soul will be absorbed into The Summoner’s Handbook, thus opening the Gateway for my kind to enter your world with no restrictions. No complications. No more waiting for the perfect weather conditions to manifest. We will have the ability to gnash and rip apart every last one of your kind. Pure mayhem! And the world will owe your friend Charlie for making it possible.”

  Walter’s head drooped forward. He didn’t fully understand what absorbing into The Summoner’s Handbook required, but he could guess it wouldn’t bode well for Charlie.

  “Let’s play, shall we?” Hoonga squeezed Walter’s arms in his claws.

  Closing his eyes, Walter prayed for a quick destruction. Instead, he felt the grip on his arms grow limp.

  “No!” Hoonga dropped Walter to the floor. The demon howled as a purple circle of light lit up the room and enveloped Walter.

  “Whoa, you’re a big sucker!” a familiar voice shouted from beyond the shield. Walter sat up, gaping in amazement, as seven Afterlife Agents, all dressed in white fatigues, surrounded the demon. Standing among them, squaring off fearlessly with Hoonga, were the three Logan brothers.

  Flashes of brilliant light blinded the beast as the Agents inflicted all manner of battle attacks. They threw lights shaped like spears and arrows. Tossed glowing grenades that exploded upon impact. One of the Agents lashed out with a long purple whip that crackled with electricity. Shields re-formed as quickly as Hoonga could bat them away. The Logan brothers had amazing skill, as did the other Agents, who appeared much older than the boys—not that that was an indication of their length of time as Agents. But Hoonga was a giant, towering over them by more than three feet.

  Shaking, Walter got to his feet as his protective shield dissipated. Ronald somersaulted across the room. He fired a dagger of purple light from his hand, and it penetrated through the monster’s hip. Hoonga released a deafening roar as he broke off the end of the dagger, leaving a good chunk of the material stuck in his leg.

  “Don’t just stand there,” Riley said, barely dodging a dangerous claw strike. “Get moving!”

  “Right!” Walter hopped from one foot to the other and jabbed the air with his fists. “How can I help?” This was it! Go time. The moment to test his abilities. To dive headfirst into—

  “Get out of here!” Reginald shouted. “We didn’t show up to save your butt just to watch you get swallowed by this overgrown walrus!” He grunted as Hoonga connected with a closed-handed strike to his chest. Reginald slid across the floor, then slowly rose to his feet, his shoulders heaving with labored breaths.

  “You want me to run? I’m not gonna leave you guys! I could— Holy wicked!” Walter shouted as a long, glowing spear formed in Ronald’s hand and launched toward Hoonga. The weapon pierced Hoonga’s shoulder and forced the demon into a backward tumble. “H
ow did you do that?”

  “Seriously, Walter. Go!” Ronald ordered. “We’ll catch up with you after we dispatch this freak of nature.”

  The floor of the luxurious suite shuddered as another massive monster thundered into the room. Walter looked up and, seeing Gorge, felt a fit of nausea come over him.

  “Oh, great!” he shouted. “You again?”

  “Master,” the horned, gorilla-like red demon spoke. “Your orders?”

  Hoonga had several protruding spears of light in his shoulders, hips, and calf muscles. The giant Cyclops snarled and pointed a clawed finger in Walter’s direction. “Capture that one!”

  Running for his life, with the demon hot on his trail, Walter zigzagged through the hotel suite. He passed the big-screen television flashing baseball highlights, two closed doors, and a bathroom until he finally shot into the master bedroom. A massive four-poster king-sized bed, with the sheets downturned and several mints on the pillows, took up most of the room. Where could he hide?

  “Come here, you!” Gorge said as he stepped into the room. A hand swung out, grazing Walter’s arm, and immediately lit up his body with burning pain.

  Gorge swung again, but Walter dodged out of the way, then raced full-speed toward the far wall, diving straight through it and out into the rainy night air. Though he felt no pain from the four-story drop, it nearly scared him to death…again.

  Gorge followed, landing with far more grace than Walter had. “Stop running! Let me catch you!”

  “Dream on!” The large horned demon was surprisingly nimble, but Walter had gained the advantage on the outside. Now Gorge was begging Walter to slow down, and shouting something about an old maid. Gorge started to lose ground, and at last he shrank into the distance.

  Walter was free. He had to save Charlie. But where was Wisdom going to conduct his demonic ritual?

  Suddenly, everywhere Walter turned, a wraith appeared from the shadows. His feet skidded to a halt. The six specters hovered around him, sealing off any escape, as the horned demon lumbered down the road. Gorge stepped through the circle, wheezing.

  Walter was not free, after all.

  “Master Hoonga requests your presence.”