The School of the Undead

the full knowledge that this would quite probably be the last time he would see the outside world. What he saw was a little bit of a disappointment: he could see the vague form of a crescent moon, ever shifting due to passing clouds; a dull grey outline of a nearby wood; a dimly lit house that he knew formed the entrance to his destination; and a group of four people, whose faces were illuminated from below with a white light. When the group came into focus, he recognised the towering figure of Adam first, and the deputy and Ms Halford second. He also was certain that he was familiar with the final person, but it took him a little while to place the young blonde woman as the school investigator who had been involved in his case the year before. He was neither surprised that she was there, nor did it matter to him that he had not seen her in the time since the sentencing of the O’Hares.

Brenden wondered whether he should go join the group, but the mere consideration of the idea led him to just continue to stand by the minivan until the deputy finally walked over to him.

“Ah, my boy, are you ready?” announced the deputy.

“I guess.”

“It seems you have a little departing party; would you like to say your goodbyes?”

Brenden responded by waving a little tentatively at the group, who in turn waved back. When it became clear to the deputy that the boy was not going to initiate anything further, he decided himself to move things along.

“Well then, I suppose we better get going.”

Without looking back again towards the little party who had come to see him off, Brenden followed the deputy up to the entrance of the unassuming farmhouse, where an ancient figure of a man with an unkempt beard and a fierce gaze was waiting for them.

As they reached the door, the man - who was dressed in a baggy black suit - drifted a few steps back into the building to provide them with the room to enter. Brenden stepped onto the reddish-brown tiles of the hallway, and failed to notice the emptiness of the blank white walls that surrounded him; he was too focused on his own journey and the idea of his unknown destination to really take anything in. The bearded man gestured with his long elegant fingers for Brenden and the deputy to continue along the corridor, and when the two wordlessly complied, he closed the door gently behind them.

The faint click of the latch briefly drew Brenden’s attention back to his surroundings, just long enough for him to notice that even though the deputy had surely been through this process many times before, the man was noticeably perturbed. Indeed, aside from the concern that showed on his long face, the deputy continuously occupied himself by adjusting one thing or another in pocket after pocket of his tired brown jacket. He looked down at the boy, finally came to a stop and then made as if he were going to say something. Before a word passed his lips, the deputy was interrupted by the reappearance of the unidentified bearded figure.

The man led the deputy and Brenden to a windowless room at the back of the house, which was just as bare and white as the corridor they had left behind. After indicating that the two visitors should remain standing just within the threshold of the room, the man moved forward to unlock a set of double doors, which when opened revealed the daunting sight of a staircase that stretched deep down into the ground. The unidentified figure then made his way over to a battered wooden desk that constituted the only piece of furniture in the room, extracted a small key from his pocket and unlocked a hatch on the top of the desk so he could retrieve a clipboard from the space within. The man returned to the deputy and Brenden, and presented them with the clipboard, upon which was a yellowing piece of paper. Upon closer inspection, Brenden could see that he was being shown some sort of form, one he had no desire to read. Instead, he just glanced over the words on the yellowing page until he found a space that was clearly indented for a signature. Without a second thought as to what he was agreeing to, Brenden removed a pen from the top of the clipboard and signed.

With a nod of the head, the occupant of the house - who was still as yet unidentified to Brenden - gave both the boy and his fellow traveller the signal that they could start their descent. After thirty or more steps had passed beneath his feet, Brenden heard the sound of the double doors being closed behind them. He stopped and turned back to see that the bearded man had not joined them on their journey down into the earth, but had just shut them off from the world above. At first, the deputy did not notice that the boy was no longer trailing behind him and it was only when he took a brief pause himself that he realised he had left Brenden some way behind.

“Brenden, my boy, it does not get any easier. We still have some way to go and tasks we must complete.”

The boy was still looking back up towards the entrance to the house they had left behind as the deputy uttered these words, and it was only when Brenden responded by turning to face him that the old teacher was able to see the puffy red face and tears upon the young man’s face. The deputy’s instinct was to respond by telling Brenden that his crying would solve nothing and that it would be best if he just got a grip. But he knew from experience that these words did little to help most