The Road From Death

by Tobias Wade

  “Visoloth, down,” Salice commanded.

  The dog sat instantly as though its rear end was magnetized to the floor. The swiping tentacles slowly receded back into its mouth, though they still occasionally snapped through the air like a shadow-boxer.

  Salice began to strum his fingers upon his cheek, pinning Noah with his gaze. Then he took a long breath and Noah could see the individual muscles in his face relaxing one by one. “Your grandson. Does he see spirits as well?”

  Noah hesitated. “I don’t know. He’s only three and wouldn’t know a spirit if he saw one.”

  Professor Salice finally succeeded in relaxing his face, except for a single muscle at the corner of his eye which continued to twitch. “Allow me to apologize. I have been rude to you.” To Noah’s shock, the Professor swept into a low bow at Noah’s feet. “I allowed the excitement of my discovery to overpower my manners. Chainers are just so useful and I… but no, I was rash and unpleasant. Please take this key as a token of my apology. You are welcome to use the Whispering Room whenever you’d like.”

  Noah accepted the metal key in silence, suspicious of the sudden change in behavior.

  “Of course, you might still have trouble getting a message across if she isn’t thinking about you while you’re in the room,” Salice continued, his words slow and measured as though he was dictating something to an unseen scribe. “I would be better service to you if I arrange to have your message personally delivered.”

  “Very well…” Noah said, guarded. “You will have to give me time to write something though.”

  Salice nodded rapidly—almost eagerly. “Of course, of course—as long as you need. And where will I be sending it?”

  Noah felt more unsure than ever. It seemed that Salice wanted to know where his daughter lived for a reason completely apart from delivering a message. Refusing him outright seemed like a mistake though, and Noah didn’t want to enrage the man again.

  “I’ll write the address on the letter when it’s done,” Noah said. “Thank you.”

  The muscle just above Salice’s top lip curled independent of the rest of his face, then released. The Professor then smiled broadly, although the smile never made it as far up as his eyes. “That will do nicely. Well I can’t keep you all day, as much as I would like to. Your imp should be waiting for you on the ground floor with your books and school supplies. Don’t wait for me; I plan to remain here a little while.”

  “I thought you couldn’t hear anything anymore?” Noah asked, scolding himself for being nosy.

  Professor Salice wasn’t angry though. He smiled a sad little smile and said, “Silence sometimes has more to say than words, if you know how to listen. Go along, I will be seeing you again Wednesday for our first class. Do bring the letter you’ve written then.”

  Noah was only too happy to exit the room. He wasted no time darting back across the bridge and didn’t even look down until he’d gotten to the other side. Then up the stairs, taking them three at a time all the way back to the ground floor.

  All the students he passed were now wearing the same gray t-shirt and pants that he was wearing, which apparently was some sort of uniform. None of them were wearing shoes though, which by now had ceased to seem nearly so odd.

  Noah found the imp immediately upon exiting the tree. It was on the other side of the bridge sitting atop a pile of books within a cheerfully bright red wooden cart, snarling and baring its teeth at anyone who got too close. This seemed to have unfortunately encouraged some of the students to make a game out of trying to steal its treasure without being bitten.

  “You sneak around on the left,” Brandon instructed Teresa. “Try and pull its tail, and then when it looks away I can grab the stuff.”

  “You awful brat!” Jamie scolded. “What could you possibly do with two sets of books?”

  “I’d like to see how long it takes for them to hit the bottom of the pit,” he replied casually. Several on-looking students snickered at this.

  “Watch who you call brat,” Teresa huffed, “unless you’d rather be tossed over instead. It might be easier to tell how deep the pit is by listening to you scream all the way down.”

  “Leave off!” Noah shouted as he began racing across the bridge. “I need those!”

  “Go!” Brandon hissed. Teresa dove for the imp and snatched its tail. The creature wailed pitifully but refused to turn away from Brandon. The boy shied away, pacing the perimeter of its reach. As soon as it became clear that he was hesitating, the imp spun around and took a bite out of Teresa’s hand. She let go and stumbled backward, swearing bitterly which sounded all the worse coming from a child. Brandon dove forward and managed to knock over the cart and scatter the books to the ground. He then retreated as soon as the imp refocused its attention on him.

  Noah burst through the circle of gawking students to arrive beside the imp. He snatched the fallen books and things indiscriminately, dropping some again in the process as he tried to keep one eye on Brandon.

  “First day and you already can’t keep up.” Brandon scoffed. “Better hurry before the Daymare leaves. I don’t think they allow murderers to resurrect anyway.”

  “Leave him alone.” It was Walter, blocking Brandon’s route to the imp. “He’s not the one you should feel sorry for.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Brandon demanded. Despite the bluster, he seemed less sure of himself now that he was outnumbered.

  “It’s bad enough having a clingy child without it following you after death,” Walter said. “I bet your mom can’t wait to start over without you.”

  Brandon made a lunge toward the imp as though he was going to smash it straight into the wall behind. Walter dove between them and pushed Brandon back. The imp clutched its claws together and gazed up with wonder at Walter as though he was its salvation.

  Noah took the opportunity to hurriedly stack his books back in the cart. Teresa hadn’t taken Walter’s comment well though, and she was scowling wickedly, about to reply when—SCREECH—an earsplitting scream exploded overhead. Great gray feathered wings wider across than Noah was tall beat the air, prompting students to hurl themselves to the ground left and right. Talons like scimitars curled around the brass railing, and brilliant green eyes skewered each student in turn with their baleful glare.

  “Professor Humstrum. First year class. Fifteen minutes. Third floor!” screeched the creature in short bursts with a voice that sounded like fingernails on a chalkboard. Her face was remarkably smooth and feminine apart from the blazing eyes, although the rest of her torso was covered in a sporadic layer of feathers that looked more like they had been stabbed into her skin than naturally grown.

  A hushed whisper passed up and down the gawking students. Noah clearly heard the word ‘Harpy’. This distraction gave Noah ample time to right his cart. The imp was reluctant to give up the: Twelve Signs Your Imp Might Be Plotting To Kill You book, but Noah managed to wrestle it away without Brandon or Teresa interfering.

  “I never noticed—there must be dozens of them,” Dolly Miller breathed nearby. “Look up at the tree top!”

  More gray shapes were swirling through the boughs of the massive tree. They must be just waking up though, because Noah was sure he would have noticed their screeching the first time he passed through. Noah squinted and thought that he could even make out a number of small ramshackle houses balanced among the higher branches.

  The Harpy continued to glare at the students who wasted no time in hustling across the bridge to the central stairway.

  “Thanks for that,” Noah said to Walter.

  Walter grunted in reply, focused on trying to keep his own cart upright with all the other students jostling against it. “Don’t get used to it,” he said. “I just hate seeing someone teamed up on, that’s all.”

  “Aren’t you still worried that I’m going to murder you?” Noah asked, keeping his voice light.

  Walter looked him up and down and shrugged. “Just remember I stuck up for you next t
ime you start killing.”

  “Deal. I’ll get you last, and if I’m feeling tired then I’ll skip you completely,” Noah said, relieved to see Walter grin in reply.

  The carts didn’t bump down the stairs like Noah expected. In fact they were surprisingly light from the start, but as soon as they were pushed down the first step they continued to glide as though rolling down an invisible ramp. This was especially convenient for the animals who couldn’t hope to carry their own books. Elizabeth Washent, the rabbit, had already figured out how to steer her cart and make it propel itself while she sat inside.

  There was a commotion as they went down the stairs however. Bowser the dog had pushed his cart ahead only for it to sail off through the air without him. The cart kept going straight ahead until it smashed into one of the curved walls of the tree. Despite this example, several others were beginning to experiment with gliding their own carts, causing even more collisions and accidents and blocking up the stairway terribly. Some of the older students howled with laughter at the fumbling first years, but they were all having such a good time learning to drive their books around that they hardly minded.

  The students exited onto the third floor and marveled at the stunning vegetation which existed there. Long tendrils like vines grew from the tree to wrap around the brass railings, and from them bloomed magnificent and alien flowers. The vines spread out along the entirety of the floor, dividing over and over into entirely new plants. Tall ferns, thick bushes, even complete trees were growing straight up from the floor with their long roots interweaving with the branches of the tree.

  “Transhumanism and reincarnation studies!” boomed an unseen orator. “Welcome to your first class at The Mortuary.”

  Qari Olandesca Illustrations

  Transhumanism

  “Drat, now how many were there supposed to be again? It seems like there are more every year.”

  The fair, high voice sounded like it was coming from a student at first, but it was Professor Humstrum himself. The ape was scratching its back with the tip of its staff as it leaned against the wall, almost invisible beneath the broad leafed ivy hanging around the door frame. The students were still chattering loudly to one another, and it seemed that most didn’t notice him at all until the antelope head on his staff began to bray.

  “Shh, shh, don’t startle them Hazel,” the Professor said, stroking the side of its head. “Just because you haven’t met them yet doesn’t mean they aren’t your friends.”

  The students quieted down immediately to watch this odd spectacle. Professor Humstrum continued to pet his staff, mumbling soft words of reassurance to it that Noah couldn’t hear. The orangutan waited until the last of the students had exited the stairway onto the bridge before setting his staff aside and rearing to its full height which appeared to be about five feet, only slightly taller than the students.

  “Welcome, young Transhumanists!” Professor Humstrum announced. He grinned broadly revealing a pair of deadly sharp fangs, and a small bird stuck its head out of its shoulder fur to see what was going on. “Don’t give me those faces. No tests—no essays—I’m not here to try to trick you into learning anything. If your heart has a true fondness for what lies ahead then you will remember my lessons, and if your heart lets go then you will find something else to love. I do hope you all brought your copy of Don’t Be A Cow, Man… Oh no, you won’t be needing your stuffed animal quite yet. Right then, follow me.”

  Noah counted eight rooms around the circular floor, each numbered with the appropriate number of brilliant red flowers. As he was turning he caught the eye of Jamie who had found her way behind him in the crowd. Her gray t-shirt was bulging, and there was a black tail sticking out below the bottom, swishing with distemper. Jamie’s face was almost glowing from the sheer force of how hard she was smiling. Noah grinned and turned back to the front to see the students following the Professor into the first room.

  The classroom was entirely organic, from the chairs and desks which grew from the floor to the florescent mushrooms dangling from the ceiling like a chandelier. The Professor nodded and bobbed merrily like an enthusiastic waiter ushering diners to their table.

  “I know a lot of you must feel pretty overwhelmed by this point in your death, so let’s get the basics out of the way first,” the Professor spoke as he waddled toward his wooden pedestal with branches shaped like cupholders. “Our modern understanding of the spirit world is really quite simple. You are a soul, here and there, now and always. If you’re a soul with a corporal body, then you’re considered ‘alive’. If you have no physical body, then your soul projects a spiritual body until you can find a new one. Which body you’ll be able to pick will be largely determined by how much you learn in this class. I, myself, spent a life as a lion before giving orangutan a try.”

  Professor Humstrum puffed out his hairy chest in pride at this declaration as he beamed around the classroom. Hazel, the antelope head, snorted derisively.

  “A lion in a zoo. Don’t forget to tell them you lived in a zoo,” it said.

  Professor Humstrum deflated a bit, but he rallied immediately. “I would have told them if it mattered. It’s not like that made me any less of a lion.”

  “‘Course not,” Hazel said. “Just like I don’t need legs to be just as fast as the other antelope.”

  “Any questions so far? I know it can all be rather overwhelming at first,” the Professor asked suddenly, prompting giggles from the class at his overt attempt at changing the subject. “Yes, you, the little blonde dog. Did you have something to ask?”

  Bowser put his front paw back down on his desk. “What happens if your spirit body is killed?”

  “First you must remember that a spirit body is more than arms and legs,” the Professor answered. “You’ve got a spirit brain too, with memories and thoughts and habits and personality, and all those things about you make you feel like you,” Humstrum replied, his voice kind and patient. “If that is destroyed, you will lose all that, but that doesn’t mean everything is gone. Your soul is a hard seed at the center that can never be harmed. In time it will grow a new body and a new mind, and although you won’t remember the person you used to be, the cycle of life will begin again.”

  Bowser’ paw went up again, and he continued before the Professor had a chance to call on him. “But what if you get really old and you keep spending your last months? Or you get ripped to little pieces and scattered over the oceans? Will you still come back?”

  “Every thinking being that has ever lived is either on this side or the other, in one form or another. Does anyone else have questions?”

  “Ouch, let go!” squealed Jamie abruptly. Mrs. Robinson dropped from beneath her shirt and made a mad dash for the door. The kitten clawed desperately at the wood, lifting itself off the ground before collapsing in sullen defeat.

  “How’d she get in there?” Jamie asked, her voice very small and self-conscious. The class seemed uncertain how to react until Professor Humstrum burst out laughing, and guttural oohs were so warm and heartfelt that the students couldn’t help but to follow suit. Humstrum knelt down beside the kitten and whispered something inaudible, and Mrs. Robinson’s raised fur and tail settled at once. The Professor cupped his hands to carry the kitten back to his pedestal.

  “What is your name, child?” Professor Humstrum asked. There was a brief confusion before it became apparent that he was speaking to Mrs. Robinson.

  “I don’t have a name,” she replied. “I don’t want to be here anymore. I want to go home.”

  “But you are home,” the Professor said soothingly. “Haven’t you gotten your books or anything yet?”

  “No,” Mrs. Robinson said stubbornly, “and I don’t want to read or do human things. I want to be a cat forever.”

  “Her name is Mrs. Robinson,” Jamie peeped up. She immediately slapped her hands over her mouth, apparently startled by her own words.

  “Wouldn’t you prefer to be a living cat though?”

&nbs
p; “No, I don’t care,” Mrs. Robinson replied. “I miss my Claire. She’ll be all grown up by the time I finish school and get back.”

  Professor Humstrum closed his eyes and ran his hand down Mrs. Robinson’s back. A zigzagging sapphire-blue spark raced up his staff, through his body, around his cumbersome knuckles, and in an instant danced across the cat to burst into the air like a tiny firework.

  “You used to be a human. Did you know that, Mrs. Robinson?”

  The cat looked distrustfully at the staff and didn’t say anything.

  “It’s quite natural for souls to have an affinity toward things they used to be. As for you…” Professor Humstrum strode across the room and placed his hand on Jamie’s forehead. “What is your name, girl?”

  Jamie told him, and as she did a similar blue spark raced up the staff again and danced through her hair.

  “You were once a cat,” the Professor said confidently. Then returning to his podium where Mrs. Robinson still sat, he continued. “As I have already said, I have no intention to force anyone to learn against his will. I simply wish that all who attend my class are aware that life is so much bigger than the taste they’ve had, no matter how rich that experience was,” he nodded at Mrs. Robinson, “or how many lives they have already led,” and another nod toward Noah, who pretended not to notice.

  “It is natural for the freshly dead to obsess over the life they’ve already lived, because that life and life itself are synonymous to them. Some are never able to let go of that life, and they spend the rest of time dreaming about how it used to be. I would be failing as an instructor if I did not acknowledge this possibility, but so too would I be failing if I did not encourage you to see what could be as well as what was. Will you consider staying with us, Mrs. Robinson, at least until you better understand what your options really are?”