The Undertakers Page 8

  Training? Tom had mentioned that yesterday when I’d promised to become an Undertaker. At the time it had seemed like a vague thing, not quite real. Apparently it was.

  “I guess.”

  “Cool! Hey, I dug up some fresh clothes for you. Should fit you better’n what you’ve got on now. It’s all here.” Grinning, she showed me a lumpy plastic trash bag.

  “Oh,” I said. “Thanks.”

  “No sweat. So eat up, and let’s roll!”

  Curiosity briefly overshadowed my despair. “To First Stop?”

  “You know it!”

  “What exactly is First Stop?”

  She grinned. “It’s this cozy little spot we keep for training new recruits. We run classes about twice a month. A new one just kicked off, but I figure we can slip you in with no hassle.”

  “But—why not just train people here? There’s plenty of room.”

  “It ain’t about room,” Sharyn said. “It’s about security. Sometimes the Corpses snatch some poor Seers before we can get to them. Then the Corpses somehow brainwash them and send them to find us as spies. We call them moles. Their mission is to scope out Haven’s locale and then drop the dime on us. And if the Corpses ever get a hold of that bit of info, they’ll roll in and ice the whole place!”

  Helene had said as much to me yesterday during our fight. I tried to imagine the Big Room overrun by the walking dead—and shuddered.

  Sharyn continued, “So early on, your dad and Tom rigged up this place for training recruits off-site. That way if a mole does slip in, we just close down that First Stop and find another.”

  “And what happens at this…training camp?” I asked.

  “Loads! You learn how we fight, our gadgets, our rules and regs—all things Undertaker. On the flip side, we scope you out and make sure you’re on the level and not just a Deader stooge.”

  “But I’m not a mole!” I insisted.

  Sharyn reached across the table and tousled my hair. I didn’t like it. “Of course you ain’t, Red! When I said you, I meant like the general you. No way we’d have let Helene bring you straight here instead’ve to First Stop, like usual, if we’d figured you might be bent!”

  Special treatment. No wonder that Alex Bobson kid had given me such a hard time yesterday.

  “How long do I have to be there?”

  “You’ll roll on back to Haven a week from Tuesday, along with the rest of your class.”

  “Oh,” I said glumly.

  “Hey—it’s cool! First Stop don’t suck much. We keep you hopping, and the time flies. ’Sides, you get to learn all our tricks! Don’t get better’n that!”

  I studied her, trying to figure out if she was being ironic. With Sharyn there was no telling.

  “Can I see Helene before we go?” I asked. I wanted to apologize for yesterday’s fight.

  Sharyn’s smile faltered. “No go. Sorry. Tom sent her back up to Manayunk to scope out things since you two split yesterday. She ain’t gonna be back til past midnight.”

  “Isn’t that dangerous?”

  Sharyn leaned over the table and said quietly but firmly, “Will, everything we do is dangerous. Now eat, and let’s bail. You got a big day ahead of you.”

  Twenty minutes later, the two of us were making our way up the spiral ramp and back onto Green Street, this time riding two Stingrays—an opportunity that would have thrilled me before yesterday.

  From there Sharyn led me along a complicated route that finally ended at a boarded-up storefront in a rundown neighborhood somewhere north of Center City. The sign over the door read Professional Dry Cleaning, although the place looked like it had been out of business for years. After a careful look around, she and I walked our bikes down a side alley and stopped outside a grimy old service door.

  “Listen up,” she said. “Before we go in, there’s a couple things I got to tell you. First, this is Day Three for most of the recruits. Day One, we get them settled. Day Two, we get them talkin’, telling us how they ended up wanting—or needing—to join the Undertakers. Get it?”

  “Yeah,” I replied.

  “Except that ain’t all we’re doing. We’re also scoping them out and checking if any of them got the makings of moles. Today, Day Three, the real stuff starts, and first off is what Tom calls his orientation speech.

  “Now, til this mornin’, none of these dudes have met the Chief. So when you get in there, remember: you ain’t met Tom before neither. The story is that you just got boosted, and we’re bringing you right in. You cool with that?”

  I shrugged. “Sure.”

  She nodded. “Now, the second thing—you’re gonna be living with these kids for a while, and you’re probably gonna get friendly with them. That’s cool. Only when you do, don’t spill no info on Haven. That’s important, Red.”

  “Security?” I asked.

  “We’ve got to watch our backs.”

  “What if one of the recruits does turn out to be a mole?”

  She grinned. “Then we tag them, bag them, and drop them at a hospital ER. After that we ditch the First Stop and find a new one.”

  I looked at her, astonished. “And that’s happened?”

  “Twice.”

  Sharyn opened the service door with a key and ushered me into a poorly lit room about the size of the boys’ dorm at Haven. Half the floor space was roped off and layered in mats. A dozen rusty old folding chairs had been lined up on the other half. A single hanging bulb over the matted area provided the only light.

  Five kids sat in the folding chairs watching Tom, who stood atop the mats looking tall, powerful, and thoroughly in charge. The Chief was speaking, although he paused for just a moment as we entered. As his eyes found mine, Tom offered me only the barest hint of a smile.

  “—ain’t alone in this,” he was saying. “You’re just five outta hundreds of teens and preteens who picked up what we call the Sight—the ability to cut through whatever scam the Corpses pull that keeps everyone else from recognizing them for the rotting carcasses that they are.

  “I wish I could say we got it all figured out. We don’t. I wish I could say this war’ll be over soon. I can’t. But I can promise you two things straight up. The first is that you’re safe here. We’ll teach you everything you need to help us fight the Corpses. The second is that if you do decide instead to bail, you’ll be facing major risk. Corpses hunt Seers, and when they find them, they kill them.

  “I know this ain’t fair. I know most of you got homes that you miss. I know you’re scared. But this is war, and in war, sometimes children got to grow up fast—in this war, especially, because the only ones fighting it is us.

  “But understand this: it’s a war we can win. This place you see here may not look like much. But trust me, it ain’t all there is. This dingy old place is kind of like a small gear in a much bigger machine—a machine that was assembled by a great man as a way to fight back against this invasion. We are that machine. We are the Undertakers.

  “Work hard, learn your lessons, and sooner than you think, I’ll show you what I mean.”

  The Chief of the Undertakers stood tall atop the mat, his strong face illuminated by the light of that single hanging bulb. He gazed down on the recruits, somehow appearing larger than life—filling the mat, filling the whole of the available space in First Stop. When he spoke, the kids listened in rapt attention. They believed him. They believed in him.

  This is what a leader looks like.

  Tom said, “Remember, you ain’t alone. You got us, and we all got a job to do. Because in this war, we ain’t the first or last line of defense. We’re the only line of defense.”

  CHAPTER 14

  Street Karate

  In the silence that followed, I looked over the recruits. There were two boys and three girls. The smallest girl was a tiny blond who barely seemed old enough to be Seeing Corpses. She looked like she might be crying.

  Tom nodded to Sharyn and me. “A new recruit joined up today,” he said. “His name’s
Will Ritter. Now, I know y’all got a couple of days’ head start on him here, so I hope you’ll help him along. Will, why don’t you grab a chair?”

  I obediently took a seat beside the little blond girl, who gave me a shy smile. I did my best to smile back.

  There were definitely tears on her cheeks.

  I knew just how she felt.

  Tom said, “Today we get down to the real deal. I’m gonna turn y’all over to my sister Sharyn now—she’s gonna demo some of the Undertakers’ customized combat techniques. But before I go, I’ll take some questions. Anybody?”

  A thin boy wearing wire-rimmed glasses raised his hand. “Has my mom’s hairdresser always been, well…dead?”

  “Solid question, Ethan,” Tom replied. “How long’s your mom been seeing this dude?”

  Ethan shrugged. “A little over a year, I guess.”

  Tom nodded. “That jives. See, Corpses ain’t really dead people. They’re invaders from somewhere else who inhabit dead bodies. We think it’s how they survive and get around in our world. They slide into a dead person, take the body over, and wear it like a suit until it rots around them. Then they Transfer to another. But whatever body they’re wearing, they always somehow project an image of the same false identity. That’s why it’s handy to be able to recognize individual Corpses by the Masks they wear rather than the bodies they’re in. There’s a trick to doin’ that. We’ll be showing it to y’all.

  “So, yeah, man, your mom’s hair dude’s always been a dead body—but probably not always the same dead body.”

  Ethan didn’t look happy about the answer.

  A tall girl with short dark hair and an olive complexion raised her hand. “Some Corpses are women, right? I mean, they look like women—dead women. But underneath are they, you know—female?”

  “We’re not one hundred percent sure about that one, Maria,” Tom replied. “But we think the Corpses got gender just like humans do. Male Corpses possess male dead bodies and pose as dudes; female Corpses pose as women.”

  The last boy in the group looked bigger and older than the rest. His round face, half-hidden beneath a long mop of yellow hair, seemed to wear a perpetual scowl, as if he were mad at the world.

  The kid had bully written all over him.

  “Well, duh!” the big boy chimed in. “What else would they do?” Then he looked around as if expecting everyone to laugh at what he figured was a funny joke. When nobody did, he sulked.

  Ethan raised his hand again. “Um…are the Corpses just here—I mean, in Philly? Or are they everywhere?”

  Tom replied. “Near as we know, the invasion has started here in Philly, and most of them are still in this area—although, in the last year, more of them have spread out to New York, Baltimore, Washington…”

  Ethan gulped, but he didn’t lower his hand. “Then there must be other groups like this one in those other cities, right?” he asked, sounding almost desperate.

  He wants the Undertakers to be big, I thought. He wants to believe he’s safe inside a really huge organization.

  But Ethan came away disappointed. “Maybe there are other groups like ours out there,” Tom replied. “But so far, we ain’t found any. And believe me, we been looking. Sorry, Ethan.”

  The boy paled and lowered his hand.

  “Any more questions?” Tom asked.

  “I’ve got one,” I said almost without thinking. “How can we win this war when we don’t even know how to kill a Corpse?”

  A nervous murmur rolled through the rest of the recruits, and I realized I’d just fouled up. I was supposed to be new here, right? So then how did I know that the Undertakers had no way to kill Corpses? Inwardly I cringed.

  Somewhere in the shadows, I heard Sharyn groan softly.

  “We got ways to hurt them,” the Chief replied carefully. “We can even force them to Transfer to other dead bodies sometimes. But it’s true that nothing we got yet has done any Corpse permanent damage. Not that we ain’t working on it.” Then, treating me to a hard look, he said flatly, “What I don’t get is just how you knew about it, Will.”

  I swallowed.

  Tom understood full well how I knew what I knew. I could only figure that putting me on the spot like this was a kind of test. It had been my mistake, so I had to fix it.

  I thought furiously. Around me the other recruits were silent, expectant.

  Finally, faking a shrug, I replied, “When they came for me, I had my dad’s service revolver. I emptied it into one of them, and he just kept coming. How are you supposed to kill that?”

  Tom held my gaze, his expression grave. Then he smiled. “Sounds like you had yourself a time, Will. Now, if there’s no more questions, I’ll pass you over to Sharyn. Listen up, learn what you got to learn, and I’ll see y’all again soon.”

  He left the mat, stepping over the rope boundary. There was no applause.

  His sister emerged from the shadows and offered her brother a high five. He accepted it, although I got the impression that he wished she wouldn’t do that.

  Then Sharyn fairly bounded onto the mat, her dreadlocks dancing around her head like tight black springs. Since our arrival, she’d pulled off her sweatshirt. She now wore jeans and a black tank top with the words Mopey Teenage Bears—whatever that meant—splashed across it in big pink letters. Her arms were long, lean, dark-skinned, and muscular: an athlete’s arms.

  Sharyn positioned herself near the center of the mat and rubbed her hands together. “I’m Sharyn Jefferson, and I’m gonna be showin’ y’all what we can do to Corpses!”

  Instantly the big kid’s hand went up. “Um…but you’re a girl.”

  Sharyn nodded. “So I am! Thanks for noticing!”

  “And you’re gonna teach me how to fight?”

  She cocked her head curiously. “You’re the dude who came in yesterday, ain’t ya? What’s the name? Dave Hot Dog?”

  The boy frowned. “Burger.”

  “Oh. My bad. Burger Hot Dog.”

  The boy leapt to his feet. “My name’s Dave Burger! And I don’t got to take—”

  Sharyn’s smile vanished. “Chill out, Hot Dog.”

  “I didn’t come here to take no crap!” Dave exclaimed, red-faced. “And I didn’t come here to learn fighting from no girl!”

  “So you got nothing to learn from me?” Sharyn remarked. “Figure you can drop me easy?”

  “This is stupid!” the boy declared.

  “That right? Well, how’s about you prove it. Like you said: I’m just a girl. So bring it! Lay me on my butt, big man. Bust a move like that, and you get to play teacher!”

  The other recruits nervously watched this exchange. Although clearly taken aback by the challenge, Dave was either too proud or too stubborn to back down.

  Finally, smirking, he stepped up onto the mat, looking the very picture of confidence. “Don’t think I’m gonna go easy on you just because you’re a girl.”

  Sharyn’s grin returned. “Never even occurred to me.”

  “Just remember, this was your idea.”

  “I’m shaking with fear.”

  Dave blinked, unsure if she was making fun of him or not. Then he suddenly advanced, his fist hurtling toward the girl’s face. He wasn’t nearly fast enough. In a blur of motion, Sharyn pivoted, easily sidestepping the rushing boy, and delivered a sharp kick behind his knee.

  Dave yelped in pain, dropping to a crouch. Sharyn then yanked his collar hard, twisting him around and down onto his back. He landed awkwardly, pinning one of his bent legs painfully beneath him.

  The yelp became a cry.

  The girl pressed one bare foot on the boy’s broad chest, leaning down.

  “Get this, Hot Dog—that was easy,” she said. Just before the boy starting screaming in agony, she removed her foot, straightened up, and faced the rest of the recruits. “Corpses are stronger than us. They’re also faster and a whole lot meaner.”

  The recruits exchanged nervous looks.

  Sharyn continued, “Th
ink that makes them too tough? Well, I’ve gone up against more Deaders than I can count. You don’t beat them with strength. You beat them with speed, brains, and precision.”

  Behind her, Dave had struggled back to his feet. His cheeks were burning, and his blond hair looked layered in sweat. Seeing the girl’s unguarded back, he grinned and charged, all fists and fury.

  I started to shout out a warning—but I never got the chance.

  Sharyn ducked, spun, and hit the advancing boy once in the stomach with the blade of her hand. The blow was hard and lightning quick. Dave’s lungs emptied in a whoosh of air. His eyes went wide. Then Sharyn dropped to a crouch and swept her leg smoothly across the mat, catching him at the shins.

  He went down again—hard. This time he stayed down.

  The girl stood up and casually explained, “Corpses don’t feel pain. You can shoot them, knife them, break their bones, and they’ll just keep coming. That’s the plus of being dead—maybe the only plus.

  “But that don’t mean they don’t got weak spots, dig? They’re walking around in stolen bodies—stolen human bodies—which means they’ve been stuck with the human nervous system. There’s parts of the body that control movement of an arm or a leg or even the whole body. They’re called nerve centers, and pain or no pain—dead as they are—the Corpses rely on them just as sure as we do.

  “There’s one here.” She raised her arm. “Tag a Corpse with a good kick to the armpit, and the whole arm goes limp for a while.” She lowered the arm and touched her nose. “A hard punch to the bridge of the nose temporarily blinds them. And best of all: plant your fist right here”—she tapped the back of her head—“at the base of the skull, and you’ll paralyze them for a time. You’ll all be learning these moves over the next week or so.

  “Bottom line? Fighting a Deader is all about staying calm, picking your moment, and then applying the right force. Over the next couple o’ days, we’ll be working on stance and balance. Once you’re down with that, we’ll roll into moves and attack styles. Before we’re through, y’all will have a solid understanding of how we dance this dance. Any questions?”