Scorch

by Gina Damico

  Ferbus tried to talk again, but Driggs grabbed his hoodie even tighter. “And no, I didn’t know what I was doing. Don’t you think that if I knew I had the power to reverse Damning, I’d have been doing it all along to all those innocent people? You think I’d just keep it to myself and let those people suffer? I was just as surprised as you were to see that fire disappearing from his body, so what I really need right now is for you to have my back like the friend you’re claiming to be, because I’m confused and scared and totally freaking out about this, okay?”

  Ferbus, sporting the mother of all bewildered looks, finally broke free from Driggs’s grip. He looked at the ground as he wiped the blood from his face, then squinted back up at Driggs. “Sorry, dude,” he said sheepishly. “I just thought—shit, I don’t know what I thought.”

  Driggs said nothing—just stared at his bloody knuckles, his face twisting in horror as if he’d only just realized what he’d done.

  “Thoughts are not your strong point, Ferb,” Elysia said testily. She looked at Lex. “Are you all right?” She reached toward her, then flinched back.

  Lex looked away, thoroughly humiliated. “I’m not contagious,” she said in a small voice.

  A faint whoosh sounded behind them. Uncle Mort had landed right on target at the end of the red carpet. “See? Told you you’d make it!” He looked at the blood-soaked Ferbus, now lying back on the ground with his eyes closed and his nose pinched. “What happened to him?”

  “Family squabbles,” said Elysia.

  “Ferb? You all right?”

  Ferbus raised a thumbs-up. “It’s broken for sure.”

  “Can only be an improvement.” Uncle Mort glanced around. “Where are Pip and Bang?”

  No one answered.

  A little bit of the color went out of Uncle Mort’s face. “Crap. Uh—” He looked around again, as if expecting them to materialize any second. But the valley produced only silence, a tiny gust of wind scattering the dust across their faces.

  He opened his bag. The Juniors peered inside. Seven Sparks, one for each of them, plus Uncle Mort. All of them were flickering—none shone bright, like a flashlight. “They’re still alive, at least.”

  “But where are they?” said Elysia.

  “I don’t know.” He swallowed. “Let’s get moving.”

  “Without them?”

  “You want to stay here and wait?”

  Even in their thermoregulated hoodies, the sun was broiling. The arid air had already parched their throats. The sand stung at their eyes.

  Elysia looked around nervously. “No, but—agh!”

  Pip landed on top of her, followed immediately by Bang, in a mess of tangled limbs, scythes, and, oddly enough, snow.

  “We got lost in the Rockies!” Pip yelped. “I saw a mountain goat!”

  “Thank God,” Ferbus said, scrambling toward him. Pip opened his arms for a hug, but Ferbus ducked out of the way to scoop up a handful of snow. “Ahhhh,” he sighed, holding it to his mangled nose.

  Lex pulled Uncle Mort aside. “Are Mom and Dad okay?”

  “Other than a pair of splitting headaches, they’re fine. Pandora will make sure they get home.”

  Lex winced. “You sure she’s up for that?”

  “Lex, we’re talking about the woman who single-handedly administered the deaths of Martin Luther King, Jr., John Lennon, and half the victims of Pearl Harbor. I think she can handle getting your parents onto a bus.”

  “But what if Zara comes after them again?”

  “I don’t think she will, at least not anytime soon. Not when she can still use them—”

  “As leverage,” Lex finished bitterly. “Right.”

  “Though now that she’s got the key, there isn’t much left for her to squeeze out of you.”

  Driggs, overhearing them, dug into his pocket. “You sure about that?”

  “What?” Lex shrieked, grabbing the bone key from him. “But—you gave something to her, I saw it!”

  Driggs turned to Uncle Mort. “Zara is now in the possession of a highly coveted key to your attic,” he told him. “Sorry.”

  “That’s okay. I’m sure it was of more use to you two than it ever was to me.”

  Lex looked at her uncle’s unfazed face and frowned. “You knew?”

  “I know everything, kiddo.”

  Lex scrutinized him. “Something’s going on here, isn’t it?” she said, lowering her voice. “Something bigger than just Zara.”

  With one final, cryptic glance at the both of them, Uncle Mort turned around and began walking down the red carpet.

  “Where are you going?” Lex shouted after him, looking at the spot where the carpet faded into the horizon, leading nowhere.

  With a small smile, he gestured for the rest to follow. “DeMyse awaits.”

  ***

  An hour later, crankiness had reached a maximum. Feet were shuffling, hoods had been pulled up, and heads were pointed down at the never-ending red carpet, Ferbus’s nose honking all the way.

  “I’m tired,” said Lex.

  “I’m thirsty,” whined Pip.

  “I’ve lost at least sixty percent of my bodily fluids,” wheezed Ferbus, a wad of bloody Kleenex in his nose dancing as he spoke.

  Elysia, holding him upright, let out a grunt. “How much farther?” she asked Uncle Mort.

  “Not far.” Their fearless leader’s voice was calm, but even he was starting to look frazzled. His hair was sticking out in a lot more odd places than usual.

  Lex hung back, letting the others walk ahead so she could talk to him. “Is Corpp going to be okay?” she asked in a quiet voice. “You think he got to the Afterlife?”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “I honestly don’t know. He looked all right at the end. Whatever Driggs did seemed to have reversed the effects of the Damning.”

  At the sound of his name, Driggs slowed down and joined them at the rear. “Mort, seriously. Any idea what in the hell I just did back there?”

  Uncle Mort shook his head. “Beats me. All I know is that if any of that happens again—if Lex loses control and Damns someone again—then you’d better be right there next to her to fix it.” He sighed. “As if you two needed another excuse to be attached at the hip.”

  “Don’t worry, Mort,” said Driggs. “I’ll be dead soon anyway.”

  Lex shoved him. “That’s not funny.”

  “What? Zara’s made it her life’s work to Damn people, and I can undo it. You heard what she said: I’m next.” He lowered his voice. “My chances of survival just plummeted to zero.”

  Lex did not want to think about that. “What happened with Norwood?” she asked Uncle Mort, changing the subject.

  “Well, he sounded pretty grouchy when he took an ax to my kitchen door. I’m guessing Sofi told him the whole thing.”

  “Bitch.”

  “Give her a break,” Uncle Mort said. “She just didn’t want to get in any more trouble.”

  “Yeah, right. What she wanted was for me to get thrown in the Hole.”

  Uncle Mort wiped some sweat from his face. “At least she left before you did whatever it was you did, Driggs, so there’s no chance of that little nugget getting out.”

  “Yeah, but what about Lex?”

  “Lex,” he said with a hint of intrigue as he took off for the front of the group, “is now public enemy number one.”

  Lex tried not to let this terrify her as much as it did, but it was only a drop in the bucket at this point. There were way too many things to be terrified of right now.

  Seeing the unsettled look on her face, Driggs handed her a couple of Oreos, having apparently packed them as one of his essential items. She was silent as she chewed, the dry crumbs choking her already parched throat. She was grateful that no one had asked her about Zara’s “extra credit” comment, but she couldn’t be sure that would last. Better to keep them focused on one of the many other worries of the moment.

  “What do you think Corpp meant?” she asked Drig
gs.

  “About what?”

  “When he said ‘It’s gone’?”

  His eyes were pained. “I don’t know.”

  Lex decided to say it out loud. They were both thinking it anyway. “Do you think he meant his soul?”

  Driggs licked his chapped lips. “I don’t think so. I mean, he was still alive for a second or two more. How could his soul have disappeared before he died?”

  “Because I think that’s how Damning works. It rots the soul while the person is still alive—that’s why the jellyfish can’t pick up on the death and why the Gamma doesn’t get to the Afterlife.” She swallowed. Her throat was getting drier and drier. “I took his soul away.”

  “But I—I put it back.” Driggs sighed. “I don’t know how I know it, but I do. And after I did, Corpp died just the same as anyone else. Time froze, a Senior Grim team showed up right after to Kill and Cull his soul, and now he’s in the Afterlife. I’m sure of it. Look, we can check the Afterlife here in DeMyse. We’ll put out the word, get him to come see us.”

  Lex shook her head, remembering her conversation with Corpp. “No, he’s a hider. He won’t come out of the Void, not even to see Pandora. He told me.”

  “Then we’ll ask around. Maybe someone has seen him.” He gave her a desperate look. “He’s got to be in there.”

  She stared back. “And if he’s not?”

  A commotion toward the front of the group brought their conversation to a halt. Bang was standing stock-still in the middle of the carpet, staring intently into the distance and signing too frantically for anyone to understand her.

  “What’s she saying?” asked Elysia.

  “She can see something,” translated Pip. “Up ahead. Buildings!”

  Ferbus lifted his head from Elysia’s shoulder. “This could just be the massive blood loss talking,” he said in a slurred voice, “but I see it too.”

  A moment of silence ensued as they squinted. “There’s nothing out there,” said Elysia, a hint of hysteria creeping into her voice. “Nothing but desert. And more desert. We’re going to die out here and the vultures are going to eat our skin off and our skulls are going to be made into Yorick mugs and it’s all your fault!” she yelled, pointing accusingly at a cactus.

  A beat passed.

  “Well,” Uncle Mort said, “looks like the crazies have arrived. Much earlier than usual, it would seem. We must be getting close.”

  Lex jogged up to her uncle. “Why are we heading for DeMyse if they’re just going to arrest us the minute we get there?”

  “They won’t. The mayor and I go way back. Trust me, you’ll be safe.”

  “I have trusted you implicitly ever since I came to Croak, and look where it’s gotten me.”

  “Strolling through Death Valley on Thanksgiving,” he said with a wink. “Don’t say I never show you a good time.”

  The shimmering mirage on the horizon was forming into a bunch of odd shapes. The shapes grew larger as they walked, eventually starting to resemble buildings. And palm trees. Soon the sunlight began to reflect off moving things—cars, possibly. The Juniors broke into a sort of limping run, the prospect of water and shade and an Arctic-grade air conditioner looming large in their minds as the buildings rose higher in the empty blue sky. Yet even when they got up close—or as close as they dared—it still sat behind a wavy filter, as if they were viewing it all through a giant pane of distorted funhouse glass.

  “It’s just a mirage,” Driggs said, disappointed.

  “Could a mirage do this?” a deep, sonorous voice boomed. A figure stepped out from the waviness and became clear.

  “Great,” said Elysia, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “Now Willy Wonka’s here.”

  Lex stared. “Whoa.”

  Elysia’s grabbed Lex’s arm. “You can see him too?”

  They all could, and Elysia’s description wasn’t far off. The man was, in fact, dressed very similarly to Willy Wonka in the old movie—in a velvet purple suit and orange fedora, wielding a shiny cane. But that’s where the similarities ended. This man was black and bald, and he wore a tight, shiny shirt underneath the jacket, plus a zebra-print belt and a pair of ridiculously expensive-looking sunglasses. His goatee was shaped into a point, and a single gold tooth sparkled when he smiled. He looked like a stereotypical seventies-era Halloween-costumed pimp.

  “Are you a pimp?” asked Pip.

  Uncle Mort sighed. “We need to work on your first impressions, kid.”

  The man acted as if he hadn’t even heard. “Greetings, weary travelers!” he thundered, speaking with the confidence and volume one would use to address a nation, rather than a thirsty, bedraggled group of teenagers.

  Uncle Mort pushed through to the front of the pack and shook his hand. “Hey, man, good to see you again. Kids, this is Leroy—”

  “LeRoy,” the man corrected him, placing a heavy, fancy accent on the second syllable. He smiled widely, his gold tooth blinding. He looked directly at Lex but made no indication that he feared her, wanted to arrest her, or even recognized her. Instead he swept his cane in a wide arc and pointed the way into town. “Enter!”

  The Juniors walked to the end of the red carpet, took one last look at one another’s sweaty faces, and stepped through the waviness.

  16

  Lex had never been to Las Vegas, but even she knew that this place was Las Vegas times ten. On crack. It was as if the town had been placed in a blender with a giant disco ball, shaken with a Mardi Gras parade, and then had vomited a pile of glitter and tinsel all over itself. Hundreds of shiny surfaces caught the sunlight, scattering broken reflections in every direction. Sleek, expensive cars sped past, their surfaces also polished to a dazzling gleam. Each building was painted a bright color, and the road itself was made from the dried sand of the ground, shaped into rectangles and resembling the Yellow Brick Road. Lex didn’t have to follow it to know that it covered a city that was much, much larger than Croak.

  “Oh. My. Lord.” Elysia gaped. “Are we dead?”

  “I don’t think so,” said Lex, watching a pair of women walk by on heels that no human should have been able to balance on. “I don’t remember the Afterlife being this . . . flamboyant.”

  “Welcome to DeMyse!” LeRoy said, yet again sweeping his cane through the sky. “The crown jewel of the Grimsphere. Anything you need, DeMyse has it. Hats? Down the street. Avocados? Garden’s on the left. Yoga studio? We’ve got thirteen, take your pick. Champagne?” Magically he produced a tray of flutes. The Juniors took them and sipped, still in shock. “Rolex? Botox? Painkillers?” He held up a pill bottle.

  “I’ll take those,” honked Ferbus, popping off the cap and downing two at a time.

  “Anything you need, we are at your disposal.” LeRoy smiled. “Now come!” He clapped twice and strode off down the street, gesturing for them to follow.

  Lex didn’t know what to make of any of this. She felt safe, sort of, but this place was . . . weird. Driggs seemed to sense it too; his eyes were troubled as they took in the glittering street.

  But the rest of the Juniors were in awe, their heads whipping around every time some new, shiny thing grabbed their attention.

  “Palm trees!” said Pip. “Porsches!”

  “Truffle pizza!” Ferbus exclaimed.

  Lex frowned. “Croak has pizza.”

  “Look! A pool!” Elysia squealed.

  “We have a pond,” Driggs pointed out.

  “You mean that disgusting muddy puddle? I’ll take chlorine, thank you very much.”

  “Yeah, well, I’ll take a nice tall glass of the Bank’s lemonade,” Driggs countered. “I’m thirsty as hell, I don’t want champagne.” He chucked the contents of his flute into a nearby bush.

  “Hey, who shit in your Oreos?” said Ferbus in a loud voice, the combination of alcohol and drugs manifesting rather promptly. “What’s so wrong with living the high life?”

  “Nothing, it’s just—” Driggs lowered his voice. “Don’t you think
this place is a little strange?”

  “A little?” Bang signed sarcastically.

  “Well, maybe,” said Elysia. “But isn’t that the whole point of traveling, to see new and interesting places?”

  “No, he’s right,” said Lex. She glanced back at the high-heeled women, who were laughing hysterically as they juggled their bulging shopping bags. “Something’s off.”

  Elysia shrugged. “Well, until you figure out what it is, I say we relax and enjoy the moment. After the day we’ve had . . .” She trailed off at the memory of the death and destruction they’d witnessed less than two hours before, looking ashamed for having gotten excited about any of this. “We could use a change of scenery, is all I’m saying.”

  “Listen to Elysia,” Uncle Mort said, coming from behind them on his way up to LeRoy. “She knows what she’s talking about.”

  Lex gave him a dubious look. “Ten minutes ago she was professing her love to a gecko.”

  “Ugh,” said Elysia. “Was I really?”

  “Don’t worry,” Uncle Mort told her. “The sanest member of the party is always the first one to lose it. That’s how you know you’re on the right track.”

  “I’m not the sanest?” said Driggs.

  “I’m not the sanest?” asked Lex.

  Uncle Mort rolled his eyes and kept walking.

  ***

  LeRoy led them to a garish pastel pink hotel with a giant flamingo on its sign.

  “Extra towels? Second floor,” LeRoy said as they walked into the foyer. “Parking? Ample. Ice machines? Five. Five ice machines.”

  “Wow,” Pip said, glancing up at the stained glass ceiling as LeRoy sauntered to the check-in desk. “Croak doesn’t even have a hotel!”

  “Who’d want to visit a crummy little town in the middle of the Adirondacks?” said Ferbus.

  “Who’d want to visit a gaudy pile of crap in the middle of Death Valley?” Lex shot back.

  “Other Grims,” said Driggs. “They think this place is cool. Kilda came once, brought back the brochures. Talked about it for weeks.”

  “Kilda talks about new flavors of gum for weeks,” Lex said, but she had to admit—as splashy and overwrought as DeMyse was, the place had a certain draw.