Dib exited the stairs onto the building's third floor. At this height, the walls and floor creaked even when he stood still. The row of windows facing the stairwell offered no light in the short, dingy grey hall.
Half the floor had rotted through, and there were only two other doors. Signs hung askew above both, but the writing was too faded to see what grades the classrooms belonged to. The door furthest away was only accessible over a chunk of splintered paneling over a pit, so Dib went to the door closer to him first.
Rectangular red and white seals with illegible handwriting covered the door. He didn't have to know how to read them to know what they were for—an unseen darkness pulsed from behind the door. When Dib came within two feet of it, an abrupt urge to run across the rickety paneling over the pit manifested.
He backed off, and his sense of self-preservation rushed up his spine. He shook his head; those flimsy pieces of paper were the only things keeping the negative energy in check.
The kyanite vibrated in his inside pocket. Dib flinched, then remembered why he had it in the first place. He fished out the rough crystal, and held it up to the door.
A tingling numbness enveloped his hand, cold needles in the joints of his fingers, then the kyanite shattered. The negative energy blew away like smoke, and the talismans fluttered to the floor. They curled and crinkled away from Dib's boots as he slid the door open and entered.
It wasn't a classroom at all—too small, too many faucets, and too many urinals. A mirror hung above the restroom sinks, but Dib knew better than to look in the mirrors of any haunted building. He may have trapped an unknown number of innocents in the school, but he still wasn't dumb enough to look up and see a stab-happy ghost behind his reflection.
Because once he did, it'd be too late.
He threw a glance over his shoulder—just a wall. He let out his breath and sat heavily on the restroom floor, rubbing his face with both hands.
"It's this school," he muttered. "It's doing something. There's only been some dead bodies and a couple ghosts, but it's doing something to me."
He looked askance at the rust-stained pipes under the sinks. Deep scratches adorned the sections of wall between them. Dib got on his hands and knees to inspect.
He moved his lips silently as he read:
join all scraps
repeat Sachiko's charm
but don't mess it up this time
Dib shuffled back from the sinks and rose up on his knees. "How'd we mess it up before?" He wiped his gritty hands on his jeans, and stood. "It had to be Zim. He didn't care about the ritual."
He thought for a moment; his paper scrap was still in his pants pocket. If he wanted to try escaping at all, he had to find Gaz and Zim first. His stomach knotted—he'd driven off both.
Raising his head, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror. He whirled in the opposite direction, yanking himself out of the restroom by the doorframe.
He let his breath out slowly in the hall. There hadn't been any ghosts in the mirror, or anything about to stab him, but Dib wondered when he'd started looking so depressed.
Dib returned to the first floor, the last place he'd seen Gaz and Zim. He'd experienced more threats on that floor than the others, Zombie Hammerman being the freshest and most vivid memory. He didn't know where the little boy ghost was, and started to regret using the kyanite to unseal a dirty restroom.
He reached a red-paneled sliding door, and stopped. A corpse, spattered in congealed blood, sat slumped in a shadowed corner right next to it. He would have overlooked it completely if it wasn't wearing Zim's wig and contacts.
Dib stared at the disheveled disguise, then buried his face in his hands with a long groan. "Did he really think that was gonna work?"
He lowered his hands; the corpse sat between two doors. He'd explored this part of the school before the last quake happened, shortly before running into Zim and GIR. Scrutinizing the new door, he did his best to quash any hope that it would open. But that was hard to do when the rain outside made it quiver inside its frame.
Zim had definitely gone this way, probably while escaping the guy with the hammer. Maybe the door worked. Maybe it only worked for Zim.
Dib took a deep breath, and opened the completely functional sliding door. Cold, moist air blew in from outside and stuck to his skin.
He rushed onto the breezeway, and stopped halfway across. Another building loomed in front of him. There was a whole other wing to the soul-eating death school.
Dib peered out over the rickety railing. Both sides showed the same scenery: barren ground strewn with loose roofing tiles, a pitch-black forest looming a few yards away. Running into the woods didn't seem like a smart idea.
A man screamed above him—long, loud, and approaching fast. He didn't register what was happening until something heavy hit the ground.
Heart in his throat, Dib jerked his head left, where the screaming had come to a violent stop. A well-dressed middle-aged man lay dead next to the other building.
Theories wormed their way through Dib's confusion. One of the few papers tacked to the school walls not written by a victim was a notice from the principal himself. In as melancholy a tone as professionalism would allow, he'd announced a regrettable school closure due to his own vices.
Another dying scream shocked Dib out of his thoughts. He looked up this time, and saw Yanagihori's final visage before he hit the empty ground once more. The man's eyes and mouth were wide open all the way down.
Dib turned his back on the body—it was just going to vanish, anyway. "It's a suicide loop," he told the covered walkway. "It's like this school is his personal hell, or something."
This raised more questions about the nature of the little boy ghost, and all the underage corpses littering the school. Perhaps the principal was responsible for students dying while the school still operated. If forever reliving his death meant he regretted what he'd done, it obviously wasn't enough for the school to stop killing children.
Dib didn't jump when the next scream came. He hated how he was already used to the sound of someone dying. He turned to look at the body one more time, and saw something glint.
He walked to the other end of the covered walkway and leaned over the railing. A small key had fallen out of Principal Yanagihori's breast pocket.
Dib vaulted himself over the railing, snatched the key, and hopped back onto the walkway before another body could fall. He'd just stolen from a teacher, but it was a hell dimension.
With the key tucked into a pocket, Dib slid the annex door open, and entered.
He nearly backed out the second he set foot in the small entryway. Thick air gripped his head with throbbing pressure. Dib planted his feet to keep them from scuffing back for the walkway, clenched his fists, and shut his eyes tight. This is the right place to be, or it wouldn't hurt this much. He opened his eyes, letting his breath out slowly. Whatever curse this school's under must be stronger here. There's something it doesn't want me to find.
He left the entryway for another room. Every step came with a slight pull on his legs, like something was trying to drag him down through the floorboards.
He'd only seen two rooms so far, but the annex seemed a lot less rotted-through and hole-riddled than the first building. Maybe less victims had made it there. The air, though choked with headache-inducing negativity, lacked that old roadkill smell.
The second room connected to a long stairway. The creaking there echoed from high up, though it was too dark to see past the first few steps upward. Dib kept his eyes on his feet as he climbed, exercising more caution in going up the stairs than he'd ever cared to.
He was starting to think he'd found the stairway version of the endless corridor when a cyan light darted through the gloom ahead. Following it into a room off one of the stairwell's landings brought Dib two things. First, the stench of decomposing meat, and GIR, poking the source, tongue lolling out in a big smile.
"Hey," Dib said. GIR's head whirled to face him, still grinning, still prodding the body with a pointy metal finger. "Where's Zim? Is he in this building?"
GIR shook his head with soft mechanical whirring noises. "I not seen 'im. He got lost a-gain." He pouted. Dib couldn't tell if the little robot was honestly exasperated, because he kept poking the corpse.
"Okay. Guess you haven't seen Gaz either, right?"
GIR went all smiles again and nodded. "Ah deeyid! She was—" His face went blank, poking finger on automatic. The body's abused shoulder squished at every touch. GIR twitched back to reality and said, "I dunno. Stairs are fun."
Dib sighed. "Nevermind. Lousy scatterbrained thing."
He crouched by the corpse, opposite the side GIR was poking. It clutched a small drawstring bag, caked in blood and soil, in one of its rigor-mortised hands.
"What the..." Dib reached for the bag, then flicked his gaze to the student ID card on the body's jacket. He extended a hand, then pulled back—it was in Japanese, anyway.
GIR stopped poking and ripped the ID card off the jacket. He held it up in both hands, one bloody. "What's a Kaydween?"
"Quit that!" Dib snatched the ID away from GIR. "You're desecrating the... oh forget it, you already did." He inspected the ID; whatever GIR had read off didn't sound Japanese. Below the symbols on the student's ID were six letters written in red marker: Kedwin.
Dib laid the ID back on the uniform jacket, and returned to the drawstring bag. Cringing inwardly, he pried open stiff fingers, wincing when one cracked in his haste to get it over with, and slipped the bag free of its fleshy confines.
Though dirty, the bag resting in Dib's palm wasn't wet or squishy. Something feather-light rested inside, but he couldn't determine anything from the odd bulge it made in the fabric.
Dib uncinched the bag's opening and peeked inside. "Aw, gro—"
His vision veered sharply floorward.
Someone dug into the dirt across from Dib in a dark room, dumping it in dry, crumbling clods.
I can't allow you to tell another living soul about what I did.
A shovel clanged to the ground next to a thick-set man.
I'm going to fix it so you never say another word.
Something snipped in the small subterranean room—kitchen shears, or sewing scissors. They snipped a few more times, only cutting air. Then staccato meat-squelches filled Dib's ears. It was like raw hamburger squeezing through bare fingers.
It ended with one final snip. Dib wasn't sure if the labored breathing that followed was his, or from the middle-aged man in the brown suit.
Something cold pricked the tip of his nose. "Beep!"
Dib yelped as his eyes flew open. GIR's face was inches from his as the robot stooped over, ready to poke him again.
"I'm not dead yet!" Dib levered himself up off the floor, shooing GIR away with one arm. "So don't poke me! In fact, don't do it ever!"
GIR flopped on his back with a clank. "Aww!"
While GIR rolled over to the corpse, Dib sat upright and adjusted his crooked glasses. The drawstring bag was on the floor next to Kedwin, shriveled-up tongue still inside.
"Okay, that's haunted," Dib muttered. "No more touching severed tongues."
He rose to his feet by degrees. He'd seen the man in the brown suit before. Yanagihori was probably in the middle of another jump.
"Hey, GIR."
The little robot spun his head backwards to face Dib, while he continued smooshing Kedwin's cheeks. "Mmmyeees?"
"I got a present for ya."
GIR spun the rest of his body around to match his head. "Where?!"
Dib pointed at the drawstring bag.
"Woohoo!" GIR snatched up the bag and dumped it into his head. "I'm a two-tongued cowboy!"
"And don't eat it," Dib said. "I might need it later."
GIR made no indication that he understood as he ran in circles, singing about the yummy nastiness inside his head.
Dib crossed his arms and turned away from the body to scan the room. He'd just come from the stairwell, and a hole blocked one of the other doors. That left the third exit on the other side of the room, leading to a corridor.
"I'm going to look for the others," Dib said, watching window-framed lightning flash in the hallway ahead. "So if you wanna find Zim, you should probably come with..." Thunder rumbled outside. GIR wasn't singing anymore. "Hello?"
Dib turned back to Kedwin's corpse. Zim's little robot had disappeared.
Gaz didn't know how long she'd been wandering around the annex—the intermittent hazy vision and migraines made it hard to tell. The building's air had attempted a choke-hold on her brain the instant she entered. She had never cared much for Dib's boring ghost crap, but this was probably what "negative spiritual energy" felt like.
She'd gotten turned around somewhere, and couldn't find the exit. The current hallway was too familiar, and so were all the doors. She stumbled and caught herself against one—it rattled. She opened it and stepped inside.
As Gaz slid the door shut behind her, the pressure in her head eased a bit. She took a steady breath in, then out, and walked to lean back against one of the desks. It was one of six grouped together, but they were too large to belong to any student. Papers spilling from manila folders and scattered around the floor gave the impression of a staff room abandoned in screaming haste.
The door flew open, and Gaz jerked her head up, biting down a shriek.
"Gaz?" Zim stepped in, all red bug-eyes and black antennae, and shut the door. "Is that really you?"
Gaz forced her fingers to unclamp from the desk edge behind her. She didn't know whether to be enraged or disturbed at how badly she'd been startled. "What do you think? I'm not dead or glowing, am I?"
Zim looked miffed, but didn't have a retort. As Zim did a quick scan of the room, Gaz gave him a once-over. He'd apparently lost his disguise somewhere, along with that annoying robot. His loud bravado was missing, too, and he seemed smaller than usual without it.
Zim stepped closer to Gaz. "Have you seen GIR?"
Gaz shook her head. "Dib's not around, either."
Zim's face twisted into a scowl. "That vomitous scum! Your brother wanted to leave me here to die. That's why he took me to this school! Did you know that?!" He grabbed the front of Gaz's hoodie. "You knew, didn't you!"
It took every ounce of Gaz's deteriorating self-control to not throw Zim across the room. "Get off me before I put your head through a window."
The school windows were as immovable as concrete. Zim released Gaz and backed off, keeping his accusing eyes on her.
Gaz sighed and boosted herself up to sit on the desk. "Look, Dib didn't know what he was doing. He doesn't even know a way back out." Zim didn't look surprised. "But I think I do."
Zim's eyes widened and his antennae perked. "You do? Really? Tell me!" He clenched and unclenched his claws, but didn't go for the hoodie again.
"I think we have to appease the ghosts," Gaz said, and Zim grimaced. "The principal here killed the school nurse, then killed the nurse's daughter. So now they're all pissed-off and homicidal."
"Was her daughter a little girl? Long black hair, red dress, completely insane?"
Gaz couldn't recall any description of the school nurse's daughter beyond her age. "Something like that. So if we do something for the nurse, maybe they'll let us go."
Zim's antennae dropped flat. "But what would a murderghost want? A sacrifice?"
Gaz shrugged. "Dib could probably figure it out. Ghosts are kinda his thing."
Zim glowered at the floor. "Relying on that wretched pig for release after what he did to me—" He hissed in his breath and growled. "Still, I don't care to spend another moment in this..." He fumbled for words, then shut his eyes tight. "Worm facility."
Gaz slid off the desk, goth boots hitting the floor loud enough to make Zim jump. "Then let's go find him."
Zim composed himself enough to nod. "And GIR."
Gaz raised an eyebrow, but didn't argue. "Whatever. If we do find him, you'd better keep him out of the way."
She walked past Zim, who seemed happy enough to follow behind, and put her hand on the door.
Something rippled across her vision.
"What's taking you so long?"
Gaz shook her head, slid the door open, and stepped into the corridor.
She promptly collapsed on her hands and knees, coughing up strand after matted strand of slick, black hair.
Zim's panicked shrieks made it through the cotton in her ears, as did his quickly receding footsteps. Throat burning, Gaz pulled herself up, using the wall for support. She tried to call Zim back, but her voice caught.
She looked at the pile of hair on the floor, and her stomach churned. The longer she stared at it, the more she felt a little girl's eyes staring back.
Gaz sensed the same pull from that wad of hair as she did from the entire school. It wanted her.