Wind carried my frizzed hair and slapped it on my face. I held onto Charles' back as he petaled down blocks and skirted corners like a madman. "Hey, Charles? Quick question," I called over the bike's rattling, "why didn't we just drive there?"

He gave a short laugh, then shrugged his shoulders. "Figured you'd wanna see more than just the ol' hotel, and feel the breeze."

That might've been true, but I at least wanted to be comfy during the trip. And to think we had to bike all the way back, ugh. Despite the autumn breezed forcing me to squint, I kept my eyes on the scenery we passed by. Some zo―no, mortems―sat in quaint cafes sipping coffee or eating breakfast, while others paced into what was left of what I assumed to be their workplaces baring crisp suits.

Once in a blue moon we rode by those who decided to take it easy in a park or two. There, mischievous screams and laughter rang in my ears. I looked to the children playing together under their guardians' watchful gaze, melancholy drying my tongue. Mary would've loved to come here with Bonnie.

At the thought, Bonnie's last request rose to the front of my mind. Was it right to let her slip away? If I would've held on harder, o-or dragged her out no matter how hard she screamed, would she be happy? Instead, she perished in Bonnie's arms. At the hands of those savage bastards, to boot.

I tightened my hold, forcing myself to look at Charles' back instead. Seeing their apparent joy somehow didn't fit well with me. But at the same time, I couldn't blame them for my grieving. Mary's comforting words, masked by forced bravery, was still etched into the crevices of my mind. Don't waste tears, Lulu. You could do it!

With a sigh I leaned my head back, closing my eyes as their laughter grew distant. There were so many ways that incident could've been avoided, but they didn't matter. Bonnie and Mary were dead, and there was nothing I could do about it.

Light trembles trickled down my body, and I hoped Charles brushed them off as an effect of the autumn winds.

"Thanks for doing this," I mumbled, loosening my grip on his shoulders, "It's nice to get out the hotel once in awhile."

He nodded. "No problem, I can tell you needed it."

The rest of the ride was silent, and I didn't have enough courage to break the ice. Instead, I relaxed my muscles and absorbed what my senses could grasp, from the smell of freshly cut grass to the auburn trees standing at attention down a number of blocks catching my eye. But past the ordinary autumn scenery lurked a stench making my nose crinkle. It was vile, like someone took hold of a junkyard, doused it in puke and let the sun have its way with it.

After slapping a hand over my nose, I looked down to the source. Green specs polka-dotted my skin, most of them lingering near my dried cuts and bites. My lips leered back at the sight. There was no avoiding withering away, even in death. Still, these questions wouldn't go away until I reached a conclusion, right? Might as well enjoy myself while searching for the jackass before that happened.

Charles' bike turned towards a huge white building, its walls still in good standing despite the chaos. Above the walkway, a thick banner covered its original plaque title, reading Career Training Assistance Center.

Even past its glory days, the center's rows of windows and seemingly wide floors screamed to be a school versus some other company building. Was this where Charles, Wastia and Styke went? Curiosity and wonder pushed away my bitterness for the moment as Charles circled CTAC for the parking lot.

Meanwhile, I squinted at the windows for signs of the lifeless. Lights flickered on in some rooms, probably to combat the cloud-filled weather. Mortem carrying books and bags jogged past or scribbled in their notebooks. I gulped, then looked away.

"Alright," Charles started after hopping off and locking his bike in place, "up and at 'em."

"Right." After getting off his second seater, I brush down my clothes. "This looks like a school."

"That's what it used to be, yeah. Now it's more of a er... initiation." He rubbed the back of his neck, giving me a small smile. "I don't remember much, though."

"Hmm." Was that a side-effect from being a mortem? That night two days ago came to mind, when Jack's name was inches away from escaping my memories. I gritted my teeth and headed to the entrance. "Let's just get this over with."

Charles picked up his pace until he caught up. After catching his breath, he shrugged his shoulders. "No rush. We're pretty early, y'know."

My fists clenched by my side. That wasn't what I meant. But maybe this was the break I needed. I was no closer to finding him than Charles was to dining on his leg, anyways. Regardless, I gave a curt nod in response and followed his gaze to CTAC's entrance. The doors were wide-open, as a black brochure stand filled to the brim with pamphlets rested next to both of them.

Once we got closer, I scrutinized the rows. Where were the ones about food hospitality or whatever? Maybe they were pushed to the back. I slowed my pace to a halt in front of the doors, then kneeled down facing the brochure stand. Magazines bragging about CTAC's programs and opportunities, ranging from sciences to the arts. Each cover was vibrant, featuring crowds at events or students focused on their work. Even if their skin was battered by injuries and time, their concentrated faces proved that they had no intention of letting their passion burn out. The thought pushed my irritation away, bringing an odd sense of satisfaction in its place for a moment. Despite having their warmth taken away from them, they still had the will to follow their dreams. Maybe... Maybe I could do the same thing.

I pushed myself up, then grabbed any magazine or brochure that had pastries on the cover. *A row of chairs were by a wall inside so I walked to one and took a seat, placing my treasures next to me. The room had white walls, but a bulletin board filled with colorful posters on one of them made up for the bland color. I squinted at them from across the room, spotting mentions of contests, club events, meetings and other activities. Hm, how nice.

My eyes drifted to where I heard Charles' voice. He stood at the main office desk, talking to a balding man wearing glasses. On occasion he pointed his thumb in my direction while offering a grin.

The mortem kept his hands folded and his stare up at Charles as they talked.

Was I supposed to go over there? Nah, Charles knew the place better. The thought was tempting, but these trinkets needed my full attention. I spread them out on the chair, taking in each one's promised content. Some had goodies on them, going from chocolate chip cookies to sugar-rush-inducing ice cream. But for some reason, the brochure that had a baker as the main focus caught my attention more. How she kept a steady focus as she added another icing flower to her cake's topping was mesmerizing. I opened up that one, only to find interviews with students on one side of the trifold. They all had positive things to say about their programs. 'I love it here,' 'decent pricing' and 'genuine staff' made butterflies get antsy in my gut. Sure, that sounded all good, but what about the programs?

To answer my question, Iooked to the other panels. Concentrations such as 'Food Science,' 'Culinary Arts,' Hospitality Management,' and... P-P-Pastry Arts!  What the hell, since when was that a thing? My hands crumpled the paper at the sight of the title. Was CTAC the only place with this track? It wasn't like I could waltz into a regular college now, so this was my best bet. I took a swallow, continuing to read with widened eyes. Under it was a short description of what the field entailed. Butterflies flapped in my gut with every word I read. Oh my god they even had hands-on work! Maybe this wouldn't be such a bad idea?

As I reread the paragraphs over and over, etching any details I picked up into my mind, a smile spread across my face quicker than butter. General classes meshed with area-specific ones. Mentorships and shadowing programs. Internships and c...co-ops? Chills rushed down my spine. This could probably be my ticket to getting to taste―no, create―more of that sweet, sweet meat. If they had courses like these for mortem, that dream didn't seem too far off.

Yet even while I flipped through the next book, guilt swelled in me. Would Jack want to see this? Was he eating well? Did he come back for me? No, no, stop thinking about him. If he cared he would've came back for me even if it killed him, right? Right―he didn't like me working at the bakery back then, anyways. But now...

The page between my fingers stopped moving. Okay, let's just focus on this stuff. After a sigh, I relaxed my shoulders and got back to skimming. The book glistened with decorative sweets, from chocolate layered cakes topped with peppermint chips and vanilla icing, to iced gingersnaps next to a glass of milk. My mouth watered at the too-high-quality photos filling me to the brim with hunger. Content-wise it mentioned course requirements and payment in more detail. Something about scholarships, too?

I glanced to Charles, who was still chatting with the front desk worker. Hm, he could probably explain this better than the book could. Can't say they didn't do a good job of hooking me in, though. Instead of interrupting them, I kept my eyes glued to the pages. So much info to process, so little time. But the end result sounded worth the work.

"Thanks," Charles said, reaching my ears.

I looked up to see him picking up a few papers. Once he grabbed the pile and nodded, the mortem headed in my direction. Brows furrowed, he shook his head when his eyes met mine.

I closed the book and set it aside. "No luck?"

"Nah. Apparently tours are only on Tuesdays, so we'd have to wait a bit to look around. But, I got some stuff for you to look at before then." He handed me his papers, looking to the pamphlets by my side. "Looks like you got a head start already, huh."

I chose to stare holes into the first paper instead of facing him. "This place sounds great, to be honest. Especially the Pastry Arts, oh my god."

Thinking about it now, making food sounded a lot more rewarding than managing the ins and outs of it. Just the idea of getting to see how I could combine what I craved and what I couldn't live without first-hand gave me wild possibilities to play with.

"Sorry about this. I thought the tours were an everyday thing. Guess not," Charles said before sighing. "Glad you're digging it so far, though."

"Oh it's okay. I should've looked more into this before rushing us here, anyways." Still, this sucked. Reading about it was cool and all, but I wanted to see the bakers in action. Guess we'd just have to wait it out.

Silence wedged its way between our conversation. The moment allowed ghosts of last night's meal to haunt my senses. How the creams and syrups flowed down my tongue and eased the guilt lodged in my throat with a succulent saccharin. How it sent my heart on a dizzy goose hunt for answers with every bite. How the meat's scent was reminiscent of pork and something else, yet was overwhelmed by its seasonings and the blood leaking from its crisp skin. I wasn't sure which was sweeter; the pastries or the meat's grease-loaded juices.

"Uh, Charles?" I started after gathering my things and sucking in a breath. "You mind if we stop by a few places before going back, since we're free and all?"

Now was the perfect time to get some other things done. Going back empty-handed didn't feel right. Ah, but didn't he want to eat after we were finished with this? Not wanting him to think that far ahead, I pleaded, "It'll be quick, I swear. Just two places."

He spent a few seconds looking at me before scratching his neck with an averted gaze. After letting out a chuckle, Charles caved. "That's fine. It doesn't take a whole day to eat, so might as well get what you need since we're out here."

I could taste it now―the savory sweets fresh out the oven soon sliding down my throat. A huff forced its way past my lips at the thought. I swallowed the drool threatening to wet the corner of my lips, then paced to the door.

Before I went crazy, I had to have a goal in mind, right? When was the last time I cooked? The past escaped me, as did my answer. Ah well, nothing some cookbooks couldn't fix, right?

That didn't sound like a bad idea. Once I pushed the door open with Charles lurking behind, I gave him a nod. "Thanks. I want to get to the book store first. Know any good ones?"

"I don't read much, but I hear the ol' Barnes and Nobles joint near City Hall has loads of shit." He shrugged his shoulders. "A mortem might've rented it out, though. Wanna check?"

"Of course!" I said, my hands squeezing the life out of everything I held. "Although, I don't have keys on me... a library would be better."

Charles matched his pace pace with mine, then ruffled my hair. "Good idea. I know a good place not too far from here."

When his bike was in sight, he let out a light laugh. "I'm glad you came out here, even if it was all for nothing."

I shook my head before jogging to my seat. "It's fine, seriously. I didn't think zoooomortem, yeah, mortem were uh, active like this. It's nice."

"Nice save," he teased. Once we were settled and had our helmets buckled on, we rode to wherever Charles was taking me. I peeked back at CTAC until it was swallowed up by new scenery.

Maybe these guys weren't so bad. Maybe.