Under_The_Whispering_Door_by_TJ_Klune
nose was running, and though she tried to smile when she saw him, ittrembled and twisted down as her shoulders shook. The only time he’d seenher cry before had been over a random movie where a dog had overcomeadversity (porcupine quills) in order to be reunited with its owner.“What’s wrong?” he asked, unsure of what he should do. He understoodthe idea of consoling someone but had never actually put it into practice.They weren’t a family free with affection. At best, his father shook his hand,and his mother squeezed his shoulder whenever they were pleased with him.He didn’t mind. It was how things were.His father said, “Your grandfather passed away.”“Oh,” Wallace breathed, suddenly itchy all over.“Do you understand death?”No, no, he didn’t. He knew what it was, knew what the word meant, but itwas a nebulous thing, an event that occurred for other people far, far away.It’d never crossed Wallace’s mind that someone he knew could die. Grandpalived four hours away, and his house always smelled like sour milk. He’dbeen fond of making crafts out of his discarded beer cans: planes withpropellers that actually moved, little cats that hung on strings from the ceilingof his porch.And since he was a child grappling with a concept far bigger than he, thenext words out of his mouth were: “Did someone murder him?” Grandpa wasfond of saying how he’d fought in the war (which war, exactly, Wallacedidn’t know; he’d never been able to ask a follow-up question), which wasusually followed by words that caused Wallace’s mother to yell at her fatherwhile she covered Wallace’s ears, and later, she’d tell her only son to neverrepeat what he’d heard because it was grossly racist. He could understand ifsomeone had murdered his grandpa. It actually made a lot of sense.“No, Wallace,” his mother choked out. “It wasn’t like that. It was cancer.He got sick, and he couldn’t go on any longer. It’s … it’s over.”This was the moment Wallace Price decided—in the way children oftendo, absolute and fearless—never to let that happen to him. Grandfather wasalive, and then he wasn’t. His parents were upset at the loss. Wallace didn’tlike to be upset. So he tamped it down, shoving it into a box and locking ittight.
He blinked slowly, becoming aware of his surroundings. Still in the village.Still with the woman.Mei hunkered down before him, her tie dangling between her legs. “Allright?”He didn’t trust himself to speak, so he nodded, though he was the furthestthing from all right.“This is normal,” she said, tapping her fingers against her knee. “Ithappens to everyone after they pass. And don’t be surprised if it happens afew more times. It’s a lot to take in.”“How would you know?” he mumbled. “You said I was your first one.”“First one solo,” she corrected. “I put in over a hundred hours of trainingbefore I could go out on my own, so I’ve seen it before. Think you canstand?”No, he didn’t. He did anyway. He was a little unsteady on his feet, but hemanaged to stay upright through sheer force of will. That hook was still therein his chest, the cable still flashing dimly. For a moment, he thought he felt agentle tug, but he couldn’t be sure.“There we go,” Mei said. She patted his chest. “You’re doing well,Wallace.”He glared at her. “I’m not a child.”“Oh, I know. It’s easier with kids, if you can believe that. The adults arethe ones that’re usually the problem.”He didn’t know what to say to that, so he said nothing at all.“Come on,” she said. “Hugo’s waiting for us.”They reached the end of the village a short time later. The buildings stopped,and the road that stretched before them wound its way through the coniferousforest, the scent of pine reminding Wallace of Christmas, a time when all theworld seemed to take a breath and forget—even just for a little while—howharsh life could be.He was about to ask how far they had to walk when they reached a dirtroad outside of the village. A wooden sign sat next to the road. He couldn’tmake out the words in the dark, not until he’d gotten closer.The letters had been carved into the wood with the utmost care.
- Page 3 and 4: Begin ReadingTable of ContentsAbout
- Page 5 and 6: For Eric.I hope you woke up in a st
- Page 7 and 8: CHAPTER1Patricia was crying.Wallace
- Page 9 and 10: “Kyle was laid off two months ago
- Page 11 and 12: “Kyle won’t touch me,” she wh
- Page 13 and 14: dollars, and that doesn’t even be
- Page 15 and 16: He never got the chance.Instead, tw
- Page 17 and 18: Mostly.She wasn’t crying. He was
- Page 19 and 20: you died, you continued to wear the
- Page 21 and 22: Persian rug he’d spent an exorbit
- Page 23 and 24: to show some kind of emotion. He wo
- Page 25 and 26: He burst out laughing. Yes, he coul
- Page 27 and 28: She grinned. “Oh, man. Just you w
- Page 29 and 30: made it feel like so much more. It
- Page 31 and 32: He said, “I…” He didn’t kno
- Page 33 and 34: She wiped her eyes, still chuckling
- Page 35: “Oh. Yeah, no. I get it. Yes, thi
- Page 39 and 40: They rounded a corner, and he could
- Page 41 and 42: He stared at her. “We’re seeing
- Page 43 and 44: CHAPTER4He expected the inside of t
- Page 45 and 46: The second time you share tea, you
- Page 47 and 48: was … calming? Or so close to it
- Page 49 and 50: know I don’t have time for this.
- Page 51 and 52: “And there’s … what?”Hugo d
- Page 53 and 54: questions. I’ll do my best to ans
- Page 55 and 56: “I’m dead,” Wallace said.Hugo
- Page 57 and 58: learned from her mother, a heavyset
- Page 59 and 60: “There aren’t.”“Which means
- Page 61 and 62: Hugo looked at him. “You’re a g
- Page 63 and 64: CHAPTER6The first obstacle was the
- Page 65 and 66: At least he tried to.It didn’t wo
- Page 67 and 68: terrible as the rest of him. All so
- Page 69 and 70: “Saw one, did you?”He whirled a
- Page 71 and 72: place you’ll ever be before you c
- Page 73 and 74: CHAPTER7Apollo seemed to know where
- Page 75 and 76: Hugo chuckled. “A little older th
- Page 77 and 78: Hugo shook his head. “No, I’m n
- Page 79 and 80: “Hush,” Hugo said. “Don’t l
- Page 81 and 82: “But he’s here.”“He is,”
- Page 83 and 84: “You don’t need to sleep.”Wal
- Page 85 and 86: Wallace’s eyes bulged as he looke
He blinked slowly, becoming aware of his surroundings. Still in the village.
Still with the woman.
Mei hunkered down before him, her tie dangling between her legs. “All
right?”
He didn’t trust himself to speak, so he nodded, though he was the furthest
thing from all right.
“This is normal,” she said, tapping her fingers against her knee. “It
happens to everyone after they pass. And don’t be surprised if it happens a
few more times. It’s a lot to take in.”
“How would you know?” he mumbled. “You said I was your first one.”
“First one solo,” she corrected. “I put in over a hundred hours of training
before I could go out on my own, so I’ve seen it before. Think you can
stand?”
No, he didn’t. He did anyway. He was a little unsteady on his feet, but he
managed to stay upright through sheer force of will. That hook was still there
in his chest, the cable still flashing dimly. For a moment, he thought he felt a
gentle tug, but he couldn’t be sure.
“There we go,” Mei said. She patted his chest. “You’re doing well,
Wallace.”
He glared at her. “I’m not a child.”
“Oh, I know. It’s easier with kids, if you can believe that. The adults are
the ones that’re usually the problem.”
He didn’t know what to say to that, so he said nothing at all.
“Come on,” she said. “Hugo’s waiting for us.”
They reached the end of the village a short time later. The buildings stopped,
and the road that stretched before them wound its way through the coniferous
forest, the scent of pine reminding Wallace of Christmas, a time when all the
world seemed to take a breath and forget—even just for a little while—how
harsh life could be.
He was about to ask how far they had to walk when they reached a dirt
road outside of the village. A wooden sign sat next to the road. He couldn’t
make out the words in the dark, not until he’d gotten closer.
The letters had been carved into the wood with the utmost care.
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