The Academy: Book 2

by Leito, Chad

  No longer wondering what the shadow was that had moved above him, Asa whispered, “No more, you bastards.” He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants, picked up the sack of bombs, and began to move out of the jungle and into the clearing on the bank of the river.

  The fog was thick, but if a Multiplier came out of the waterfall, they would be able to clearly see Asa now as he moved beside the river. He felt incredibly aware of every breath he took. He could feel his heartbeat in his throat, and his fingers growing numb because he was holding the sack so hard.

  Left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot. That’s it. You’re doing well.

  A crow screamed in the jungle, and Asa jumped. He looked over and could see the black bird regarding him with beady eyes. Asa put his finger to his mouth to tell the bird to hush. The bird screamed again, as if in protest to Asa’s actions.

  He went on, though.

  The rocks directly beside the waterfall were slippery, and Asa used a great deal of concentration in selecting rocks that wouldn’t slide out from under his feet when he stepped on them. He climbed upwards, holding the bag above him so that it wouldn’t hit against the ground and make noise. When he was halfway up, he turned around and sat down. He was eye-level with the forest canopy now, and was close enough to the waterfall that he could touch it.

  He looked at the earth beside the waterfall, and felt wary of Teddy’s plan. In theory, it had made sense. While he was speaking with Teddy the night before, he imagined bombs exploding at the mouth of the cave, and the entire river above the enclosure crashing down on the Multipliers within. But now, he didn’t feel so sure that it would work that way. The earth was hard-packed and rocky. He scooted even closer to the waterfall, and put a hand on the damp dirt. He imagined one of the bombs going off, and the waterfall and cave beneath remaining intact. If the bomb doesn’t kill them, then it will just work as a firework to let them know that I’m here.

  Asa saw that this wasn’t a time to give up and turn around, though. He was already beside the waterfall with the bombs in hand. He wanted to attack the Multipliers, and didn’t have any better ideas.

  He reached inside the potato sack for the first bomb.

  He held out the cantaloupe-sized explosive and examined it in the ghostly light. The fuse coming out of one end was wrapped in barbed wire that would spark with another substance inside when tugged upon. He didn’t know how big the explosion would be, but he suspected that it would be substantial. He knew that he would only have enough time for one chance, so he began to take out all six bombs and layer them into the rocks beside the waterfall. His plan was to pull four fuses, then fly away, and hope that the other bombs exploded in the presence of harsh trauma and extreme heat.

  He was placing the fourth bomb when he heard a noise that turned his blood to ice and pumped his heart so full of adrenaline that it kicked at the wall of his chest like an angry bull.

  FLICK

  Then quiet. Asa couldn’t muster the courage to turn around. He sensed that the sound was close, but didn’t know how close. Am I visible in the fog? he wondered.

  FLICK FLICK FLICK

  Then there was a heavy sigh. Asa turned around as slowly as possible, trying to remain invisible.

  Sitting five yards to Asa’s right and a step or two lower on the incline was Rose. She was wearing a short skirt that barely covered any of her legs; they were so pale that they seemed to glow. Thin, black spaghetti straps were the only things resting upon her bare, bony shoulders. Her legs were crossed in front of her, and she was smoking a cigarette. When she exhaled, the smoke was barely visible in the dense fog.

  Asa’s eyes widened and his mouth gaped open in shock. He watched as the tobacco at the end of her cigarette reddened when she inhaled, illuminating her pale face. He hoped that she was drunk, or high, and hadn’t noticed him. He stayed as still as a statue, hoping that if he didn’t move, she wouldn’t detect him.

  She exhaled, looked out onto the foggy jungle and spoke, “What are you doing here?”

  Asa followed Rose’s gaze, suddenly terrified that there was another Multiplier below that he couldn’t yet see. She took another drag, and exhaled again. Still, Asa couldn’t see anyone down there.

  “I asked you a question,” she said. She inhaled, and then her head turned and she was smiling at Asa. Her lips were covered in thick Salvaserum, and in the faint light, it looked like Bruce’s blood.

  Asa opened his mouth to scream, but only a faint rasp came out. Instinctually, he tried to grab one of the bombs, but his hands were slick with sweat and he dropped it into the river below.

  Then, Rose was on top of him. The cigarette was gone from her mouth, and the Salvaserum was now all over her neck. She swiped the remainder of the bombs aside, where they fell to the water. Asa hoped that they would explode, and in a miraculous chain of events, he would be able to wriggle free of Rose’s grip and fly away.

  But they didn’t explode. They made soft THUNKS in the river below, and then were taken away by the current.

  Rose was straddling Asa, and smiling insanely wide. Asa couldn’t tell the difference between her teeth and her gums because of how much Salvaserum she was producing. “Oooooh, look what I’ve found. Is it he?” Her hands went to Asa’s hair and pulled it up off of his forehead. Somehow, her smile widened. “It is!” she bent down and smelled Asa’s neck. Hot Salvaserum fell to his neck. She sat up and moaned. “I found him! I found Asa Palmer!” she was talking in ecstasy to no one in particular. She bent down and whispered in his ear. “I want to bite you so bad. I want to rip out your throat and pour Salvaserum into your bloodstream.” She was whimpering with a desire to kill him. Asa tried to jerk away, but her hands were wrapped around his wrists like unbreakable shackles. She was unbelievable strong. She smelled of alcohol.

  Asa felt her open mouth breathing on his neck. He felt the sharp points of her incisors running along his skin. She sat up hurriedly and closed her eyes. She slapped her face. “No! I can’t bite him! I promised Allen that he would remain untouched.”

  She shook her head.

  Asa couldn’t process what was happening. He lay beneath Rose, looking up at her in the fog, thinking, it’s actually happening! They actually caught me! He couldn’t come to terms with these truths.

  Hurriedly, she reached her hand into the waterfall beside them, and began to splash water onto Asa’s neck as she washed her Salvaserum off his skin. “Don’t tell Allen that I almost bit you, okay?” She smiled at him.

  Asa couldn’t talk.

  “Okay, up you go.” With another display of her incredible strength, she tossed Asa up onto her shoulder like he was a doll, and then began to climb down the side of the waterfall. She was strong, but drunk, and her gait was unsteady on the slick rocks. As she went, she muttered, “Allen is going to be so proud. I got him! I got Asa Palmer! Just like the boy said, he’s here!”

  When she reached the bottom of the waterfall, she turned and passed between the stone wall and the falling sheet of water, still carrying Asa.

  She had taken Asa into the Multiplier’s lair.

  38

  Injection

  Asa could feel the blood beating in his eyeballs as Rose carried him. He looked back and saw the waterfall roaring just outside the cave. He felt like time had slowed down. He could see that the water was actually moving in waves of increasing and decreasing pressure; he had never noticed this before.

  Looking around the cave, he tried to wrap his mind around what had just happened.

  I’m one of the Multipliers most wanted targets, and they’ve caught me! They’re going to kill me! Or worse, turn me into one of them!

  Asa was painfully aware that he could be breathing his last breaths.

  Rose carried Asa further into the Multiplier’s lair. “I got him! I got him, Allen! Here he is! It’s the boy! It’s Palmer!”

  “Pipe down, Rose! The game’s on!”

  Rose stopped walking. “Allen, did you hear me? I’ve got Palmer. I caught
him! Just like the other boy said.”

  Allen responded. “Yeah I heard you, but I’m not dealing with him right now. Come, put him down in the chair next to me.”

  “Can I bite him, Allen? Please!” Rose started to wiggle with desire.

  Asa heard a whistle go off. “Damnit!” Allen cried. “No, Rose, I already told you! Bring him over here!”

  “Fine,” Rose said shortly, and began to walk again. Asa was slung over her shoulder. He decided to allow her to carry him without protest, thinking that struggling would only heighten the Multiplier’s distrust, and worsen his chance of survival. There was no way that he could overpower these creatures, especially in their lair, so he didn’t even try.

  Rose put Asa down on his feet fifteen yards into the cave. He looked around, sensing that he must be dreaming. Rose barred her black, slick teeth at Asa. “Sit!” she hissed, and then she walked over to one of the side walls, slumped down, and hugged her knees to her chest.

  Asa obeyed. He sat down into a foldable, canvas lawn-chair and nervously straightened his tie.

  He looked around at all sides, taking in the enclosure. He was surprised to see that the entire cave behind the waterfall was no bigger than a basketball court. He sat near the back wall. There was a high, pointed ceiling made of speckled black and pink stone.

  With half-hearted dismay, he realized that he had been wrong about this place. It wasn’t nearly large enough to hold one hundred thousand Multipliers, or even a thousand. So where are the rest of them? Within the cave, he counted only six. Is this just one of many hideouts?

  Allen sat beside him in another foldout chair, watching a basketball game on a large television that was sitting atop a wooden crate. The television was plugged into a big, bulky battery that sat on the floor with outlets running along the top. Asa realized that the television was the source of the whistle he had heard earlier. Allen’s blue eyes were intent upon the screen, and his hand continued to reach to a can of unsalted almonds before bringing them to his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully; his eyes looked intense. Also on the table was the large silver handgun that Allen had shot Ned with in the Lab. Asa looked at the gun, then back at Allen, and a series of thoughts raced through his mind. Is it loaded? Is there a bullet in the chamber? Is the safety on? Allen’s complete submersion into what was on television made Asa believe that he might not notice a stray hand reaching for the firearm. There were three minutes left in the basketball game on the television. Asa decided not to reach for the gun until he had surveyed the room a bit better.

  Against the left wall, closer to the waterfall, there were six cots lined up. Three of them were occupied. Asa could see Joney, either resting or feigning sleep with his head on a pillow. Michael was sitting up, reading a leather-bound bible in the light of a small candle. Ned was also on a cot. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and Asa could see the area on his rib cage where he had been shot the night before. Jesus! Asa thought. That wound looks a decade old! There was a small area of pink scar tissue on Ned’s chest, but there was no active bleeding or scabbing. Ned had been bleeding heavily after being shot; the wound was inflicted only 24 hours ago. Asa was in awe at how fast Ned had healed. He was sitting up in bed, playing on a handheld video game console. Blue and red lights flashed up onto his face, and he wore headphones. His bare chest was covered in short, prickly black hairs.

  Asa looked at these three, resting Multipliers. He thought, I’ve just been caught and taken prisoner here, and they haven’t so much as gotten up! Does it not surprise them that I’m here? They’re acting as though they knew I would come.

  Rose was still clutching her knees while leaning against the wall, staring at Asa like he was a hamburger and she was starving. She rocked back and forth.

  There was another Multiplier slumped against the right wall. Her eyes were open, but they were not focused on anything. She was swaying slightly where she sat. Her eyes were red, and twitching. She was drooling saliva and Salvaserum absently out of the corners of her mouth. There was a bloody syringe and an elastic band on the floor beside her. After a moment of staring, Asa realized that this was Edna, the blond Multiplier he had seen with Joney on the first day of the semester. She looks so much thinner.

  Allen spoke; “We don’t all do drugs, you know?”

  “Huh?” Asa responded.

  “I noticed you looking at Edna,” Allen said. Although, Allen having seen this seemed impossible; Allen had never taken his eyes off the television screen and was sitting slightly in front of Asa. “Not all Multipliers use drugs. I don’t. But a lot of them do. I understand that you’re aware I’m from the Hive, which is a large gang of Multipliers that work together. We need money, just like everyone else. We sell illicit street drugs, among other things. It’s a great business for us; there’s such a high return, and we don’t face the dangers that humans in that industry have to endure.” He threw a large helping of almonds into his mouth and talked as he chewed: “For example, if we want to sell on another drug lord’s turf, what can they do to stop us? We’re not going to be intimidated by a human. The worst they can do is put a few bullets into us. Ned, the shirtless one over there, he got shot last night.” Allen gave Asa a knowing look. “But I guess you already know that. Well, anyways, look at how well he’s healing. Bullets aren’t a big deterrent for us. Neither is law enforcement, especially post-Wolf Flu. OH, C’MON!”

  Allen stood up and waved his hands in frustration at a play called on the television. He was watching a professional basketball game, hosted by the ABL, or American Basketball League. Like all other industries, the Wolf Flu was radically altering the sporting world. Players were dying, coaches were dying, and owners were dying. Five years ago, the ABL wasn’t in existence. But after seeing the status quo of major professional basketball associations begin to decline in popularity due to misfortunes related to the Wolf Flu, some entrepreneur decided that he or she could start a competing league, and they did. The ABL players and coaches, by total luck, managed to get sick less than those of other leagues. The ABL was now considered the premier basketball league in the world, attracting the best players, coaches, managers and owners.

  On the television, the New York Cats were playing against the Boston Lions in the Northern Division Championship, according to the logo on the bottom right hand side of the screen. It was game seven of a seven game series. The Lions were up by four with two and a half minutes left. They had just committed a foul on the Cats, who were shooting free throws. The stadium was packed, by post-Wolf Flu standards; almost one quarter of the seats in the stadium were filled.

  Asa watched the player shoot, and miss. He was amazed that a professional athlete could miss such a shot. He found human sports boring after playing in the Academy’s Winggame league, where he played against fellow mutants who were much more athletic than even premier humans. And these were premier human athletes in the ABL. During its rise, the ABL took the best players from the NBA; there was no league as competitive in the world.

  Allen leaned forward, watched the Cats player shoot the second free throw, and make it. He cursed quietly, and then leaned back.

  “Where was I? Oh yeah, drugs. So, we’re in the business of selling drugs, which means that we are around them a lot. We have to handle them. A lot of Multipliers choose to use them. There are very few side effects, because we are such hardy creatures, and I have been told that they make their users feel good. But I don’t use them. And don’t worry, when you’re a Multiplier, you won’t have to either.”

  Allen said the words when you’re a Multiplier as a clinical matter of fact. Asa’s eyes moved over to the gun on the table again. Allen continued to stare at the television. Asa had another surreal moment where he came to terms with where he was, and what was happening. The floor tilted beneath him and he grasped the armrests, overcome with a fit of dizziness.

  When you’re a Multiplier…

  The words echoed in his brain, and for a time, all he could think of was what that meant. It meant that h
e would have to endure being bitten, and changed. And, it meant that instead of going back to the Academy, he would be going to live with the Hive; with Edna, Joney, Ned, and thousands like them—violent people who made drugs and salivated at the thought of killing innocents.

  Not only would I live with them, I would be like them.

  His stomach roiled with nausea.

  They haven’t changed me yet, he told himself. There’s still hope.

  Asa looked at the gun on the table. It was so close—within arms reach. But Allen was incredibly fast. Asa didn’t know if reaching for the firearm would be wise.

  Trying to convince himself that what was happening was real, Asa felt the different threads of canvas that made up chair he sat in. He inhaled deeply—the air smelled like lake water. This is actually happening. He recounted the events that led him here—Stan’s confession, Teddy’s advice to drop the bombs, the dance…

  His heart picked up a bit as he remembered the dance, and leaving Jen and Charlotte. Have they discovered that I’ve left yet? Did Jen go looking for me? He looked at the mouth of the waterfall, and hoped that she wouldn’t show up. As much as he wanted to believe that there was a way out of his predicament, he didn’t want Jen to get hurt because of his actions.

  “Can I please bite him Allen?” Rose begged from where she sat on the cold floor.

  “No,” Allen said in a monotone voice. All his focus was on the game. “WHAT!? Are you kidding me!? FOUL! YES! YES!” On the screen, one of the Boston Lions went up for a layup, made contact with a defender, and missed the shot. Allen instantly got upset, but then celebrated when the referee called the foul. As the player went up to the free throw line, Allen spoke again.

  “I think basketball is the best sport we have today.” He cast a sideways glance at Asa. “How much do you know about what the Academy graduates do on a day to day basis?”