“What’s going on?” his father raged. “Ian said that Henry said you were inside him, while someone else was living in you …”
“First, tell me this: are you okay?” his mom demanded.
“And are you Simon?” Ian asked. “I mean, Henry sounded real convincing.”
“Of course he’s Simon,” his mother said. “Who else would he be?”
“This calls for a drink!” Henry cried, propping himself into a sitting position.
“Quiet!” Mr. Carpenter fumed. “I told you not to bother us or I’d call the police!”
“Don’t go thinkin’ that you’ve won,” Cletho jeered. “We’ve got bolkhs who’ll be watchin’ your every move.”
Simon sighed. Where should he begin? How would he get his family to believe him? His father was an engineer, his mother a doctor: both believed in the majesty of science, not in tales about transmigration.
And then it struck him. His body collapsed to the floor.
“Oh my God! Simon!” his mother screamed.
“Son! What’s wrong?” his father yelled.
“I’ll call 911!” Emma was saying.
“Mom! Dad!” Simon called from behind, barely managing to occupy Henry, “Over here. Don’t worry. I’ll tell you everything.”
Chapter Eleven
“…If we apply the idea of natural selection to our forebears, we see that humans are hardly special. Through the give and take of natural selection, the earliest mammals gave rise to the apes. The apes kept developing, or were naturally selected, and eventually an offshoot with special properties appeared. This in turn produced bipedal apes and, later on, the hominids …”
For the fifteenth time Simon glanced at a clock — it hung above a poster of Charles Darwin. He was sure the minute hand had frozen over, unless time itself had come to a stop. Maybe that was why the clock wasn’t moving and Ms. Guzman was repeating the same information, how one group of cavemen had supplanted another. Here he was, on the edge of his seat, and his teacher was discussing irrelevant stuff.
It had taken time but he’d finally clued his family in, on Cletho, Tarhlo, the bolkhs, and his abilities. When his parents’ doubts had come seeping back, he’d flown outside, found a raccoon, and proved to them that he was inside it. For her part, Emma had believed him straight off, as if she had already known how matters stood. She’d been terrified, too, when he’d mentioned Clara and how the bolkhs were interested in nabbing her. But again the news didn’t shock her completely.
“… With the hominids, hunting came about and, with it, culture. This accelerated the effects of natural selection, and later hominids replaced the early ones: habilis, erectus, ergaster, Neanderthal, one arose from the other, through the forces of selection and hard competition …”
They were in mortal danger, Simon emphasized. Tarhlo was intent on snatching Clara and using her as a means of incarnation — whatever that meant. Simon was a target too. And to judge by his words and harsh treatment of Dohl, this Tarhlo was ruthless, lethal even. Because the police couldn’t help them — how on earth could they protect them from spirits? — Simon’s course was clear. He had to protect himself, as well as Clara and Emma. Simply put, they had to escape.
When he and his family had reached this conclusion, they’d discussed where Simon and the others should go. After they’d listed the possibilities — the countryside, the Maritimes, Atlanta, Georgia (where some relative lived) — Emma had disclosed the existence of a brother. For reasons she didn’t want to explain, he’d been living in Europe for a very long time and been sending her letters all these years — he was the mysterious “boyfriend.” She was close to him, in other words, and knew for a fact that he would help them out, once they managed to make their way over.
After another hour of heated discussion, Simon’s dad had come up with a plan — trust an engineer to think things through. Emma would take Clara to join her brother in Europe. Simon would accompany them — he almost wailed when he made this announcement. The Carpenters would vanish until they were certain the others had left Canada; this would prevent Tarhlo from taking them hostage. And they’d have to act quickly, before the bolkhs swooped in.
There was a problem. As Cletho had warned, the bolkhs would be watching. For sure they were stationed nearby and would follow Emma when she stepped outside. If she weren’t careful, she would lead them to Clara. And if Tarhlo learned they were aware of his plan, that his spy Cletho was imprisoned in a hamster, and that they were taking steps to safeguard Clara, he would storm the house with legions of hemindhs and stop them from fleeing. They would have to act as if nothing was wrong.
“… Do you see the pattern? Like time, natural selection never stops. It’s always bringing traits to the fore and dropping others like a hot potato. It is the fundamental principle that drives evolution, and so long as there is life on earth, there will always be change. No species can remain forever on top …”
This was why Simon and Ian were at school, so the bolkhs wouldn’t guess something was up. When the lunch bell rang, they’d leave the building with lots of students and avoid being detected if any bolkhs were watching. They would walk five blocks to a designated spot where their parents would be waiting in a borrowed car.
The older Carpenters had gone to work. In addition to packing their van with clothes, food, supplies, and camping equipment, they’d hidden Emma under a blanket to prevent the bolkhs from seeing her. Taking his usual route to work, Mr. Carpenter had dropped her off downtown. From there, Emma took the bus to East Vancouver, where she managed to get Clara released. From there, they took the SkyTrain to the airport and picked up tickets at the KLM counter, which she had purchased online the night before.
At work Simon’s dad would switch cars with a colleague — he’d arranged this in advance — then travel to the hospital, where he’d meet Simon’s mother. They would drive to a spot not too far from Simon’s school, meet the kids when the lunch bell rang, and drop Simon off at a SkyTrain station. From there he would go to the airport and meet up with Emma. The Carpenters would journey to the Whistler region, where they would camp in the backwoods for a couple of days, allowing time for the others to join Emma’s brother, whom she’d emailed the night before. It was an excellent plan except for one detail: Simon would be gone for an indefinite period.
What time was it? It was one minute closer to lunch, that’s all. In some ways Simon wanted the clock to stay put. Once the lunch bell rang and they launched their plan, he wouldn’t see his family for an awfully long time. In fact, he might never …
He had to pinch his leg to keep himself from crying.
Simon was roaming the school. Too antsy to wait for the bell to ring he’d raised his hand to visit the washroom, not because he needed to go but to stretch his legs and calm himself. He’d already walked the hallways twice and was rounding a corner outside the cafeteria. Someone was approaching from the other direction and he and Simon almost collided.
“Geez! Watch it!” Winston yelled. He was wearing a red shirt, a Yankees cap, and a pair of brown chinos.
“Sorry,” Simon apologized. “I didn’t see you.”
“Dog Bone! You again?” While Winston practically growled at him, he was scared of Simon. That message from Sherkhan had him nervous still. His hands were shaking visibly, a sign he’d taken his Ritalin that morning. Simon couldn’t help himself: he moved in and out of Winston at lightning speed.
“I have a favour to ask,” Simon announced abruptly.
“A favour?” Winston laughed. “Why would I do you a favour? I hate your guts, in case you’ve forgotten.”
“Because we have something in common, believe it or not.”
“Yeah? Like what?”
“Your mother’s sick. Her tests were positive. You’re worried about her.”
“Geez, you’re a freak!” Winston yelled, shoving Simon in his fury. “And my mother’s health is none of your business!”
“In my case,” Simon went on, unfazed
by Winston’s show of violence, “I’m leaving on a long trip soon. I don’t know when I’ll see my mom again. It could be days, or months, or even forever.”
Winston considered him. Across the hall was a concrete slab that the foyer’s central pillar rested on. Moving away from Simon, he sat on this block. After a second or two, Simon joined him.
“It’s the uncertainty that gets me,” Winston said.
“Uncertainty’s a killer,” Simon agreed.
They sat in silence for a couple of minutes. Simon was dreading the sound of the bell. When it rang, his old life would wither away and something new would take its place. All because he’d purchased a rabbit.
“So? Will you do me that favour?”
“Sure. What the hell.”
“We’ll be there shortly,” Mr. Carpenter said. They were driving south on the Oak Street Bridge, en route to the Bridgeport Skytrain station. That’s where Simon would board a train that would take him all the way to the airport.
“You look so different,” his mother said, making small talk to distract them from the scene ahead. “I guess clothes really do make the man.”
“It’s true,” Simon agreed. “I feel different in these clothes.”
He glanced at the red shirt and brown chinos he was wearing. When he’d asked Winston to exchange clothes with him, the guy had thought he was putting him on. When Simon had just stared at him, Winston had realized this was no joke and proceeded to the first floor washroom. They’d entered two adjoining stalls and exchanged shirts and pants. Both had emerged from the stalls transformed.
Minutes later the lunch bell rang. As a horde of students had rushed the school’s exits, Simon had tossed Winston a smile and joined their ranks. If some bolkh had been keeping watch, he would never have spied Simon in that heaving swarm. The same was true of Ian, who’d swapped his sweater for a hockey jacket. Ten minutes later they’d joined their parents in a large parking lot. His mother had looked silly in a wig, his dad preposterous in a weather-beaten Stetson. But there was no way they were being followed.
“We’re halfway across the bridge,” his father said. He’d been describing their progress in unnecessary detail, to dull the pain of parting.
“Have you got your passport?” his mom asked, not for the first time.
“It’s in my knapsack.”
“And money?”
“You bet.”
“And you’ll email us?”
“Of course.”
“It’s a good thing Emma has a brother abroad. I find it strange she never mentioned him, although it must have been to keep him safe. It’s so crazy, all this stuff about bolkhs. If I hadn’t seen your antics for myself, I would think you were insane.”
“We’re approaching Sea Island Way,” his dad said in a mournful tone.
“When are we going to see you?” Ian asked. “How long will you be gone?”
It was the question no one had wanted to face. Two days before they’d been a normal family, “regular tax-payers” his dad had always joked, and now Simon was leaving without them, while they were hiding from a bunch of ghosts. They didn’t want to believe this nonsense, but since Simon had addressed them from inside Henry, and assumed control of a raccoon, their hands had been forced.
“I don’t know,” Simon said, his voice cracking slightly. “It could be a while.”
“How long?” Ian insisted, tears rolling down his cheek. “A week? A month? Not more than a year?”
“I don’t know,” Simon repeated. “A month, I hope.”
“We’re on the Great Canadian Way. The station’s up ahead.” His father had to focus hard to speak these words.
“When you do come back,” his mother said, “you’ll find everything in place, exactly as you left it. And we’ll wait however long it takes. Just come back safe.”
“Simon,” Ian wailed, clasping his brother.
“We’re here,” his dad said, turning in his seat. “We should make this quick, in case those ghosts are watching. Son …” His voice failed and he was clasping Simon hard.
“Go,” his mother said, her voice impossibly high. “Go and don’t look back. Just remember that we’ll be here always. Go. We love you dearly.”
Simon left the car without a further word. Shouldering a bag that had been resting in his lap, he closed the door and started walking as his family pulled away from the curb. As his mom had advised, he didn’t look back. He didn’t wave and jump about and shout that he loved them more than he could say, that he was grateful for everything they’d given him, that he would miss them dreadfully, that he hated flying off on his own. They knew and he knew and … that was that.
He climbed the station steps, taking two at a time.
The airport confounded him. The space was huge, ran on forever, and was flooded with soft, mid-afternoon light. It was built from sheets of glass and metal girders fused together in a complex array that reminded Simon of the Meccano he’d played with, once upon a time when life had been normal. There were works of Native art all over: he’d passed two totem poles, each six metres tall, and a large stone carving of people paddling a canoe. While these works were gorgeous, they made him feel empty. He was leaving everything behind, wasn’t he? He might never see BC again, his family, the mountains, the beautiful sea.
Concentrate, he told himself. Lives were at stake and he couldn’t go stupid. Focusing hard, he looked for Emma and Clara.
The place was hopping. The KLM counter was near the Air India one, as well as ones for Air France and El Al. There were hundreds of travellers milling about, and more were arriving with each passing minute. The air was alive with Hindi, Hebrew, French, Dutch, and English, and people were laughing and jabbering away or bawling their eyes out because a loved one was leaving. There was baggage everywhere and lots of kids. An airport guard kept telling them to take it easy.
Every few minutes a plane would take off with a roar.
Where the heck were they? It was 2:20 and their flight was scheduled for 3:15. They had fifty-five minutes to check their baggage, get a boarding card, and navigate security. To judge by the lineup, they’d be waiting a long time.
Something was wrong. Had Emma been followed, despite their many precautions? Maybe she’d been nabbed at the Dooley Center, by goons like the ones who’d gathered at Koblansky’s, or by Tarhlo, who was desperate to get his hands on Clara. And if these ghosts had managed to capture Emma, maybe they’d nabbed the Carpenters too. Maybe Simon had no one left to rely on and …
He was sweating. It was odd that he could be in a crowd, yet feel like the very last soul in the world. He hated the thought of being alone. He could endure just about any hardship — hunger, cold, heat, and pain — so long as he knew that there were friends he could count on. Like that traveller on his right, an older man on crutches. He looked pale, weak, and on his last legs, but at least he had a wife and kids by his side.
Where were they? What was keeping them? In the distance he heard a plane taking off. It sounded like a dragon roasting its prey to cinders.
He was on the verge of panicking when the crowd split open and … there they were. Emma was holding Clara’s hand … and accompanying them was Jenny Frobisher! Spying him, Emma waved him forward. Normally expressionless, Clara smiled, and even Jenny looked more welcoming than usual.
Simon almost cried with relief that he hadn’t been abandoned.
Chapter Twelve
Simon gazed outside and admired the view. They’d been flying for six hours and were cruising over Newfoundland. In their wake a tired sun was setting. The land below was steeped in shadow and the clouds around them were streaked with fire.
His mood was weird, partly because he’d been napping deeply and felt a little groggy still. He was sad, too, to be leaving Vancouver, his home, his family, his past … and why? To escape some crazy, half-baked bolkhs. But the main reason why he felt completely at odds was that he was trapped in Clara and seeing the world from deep inside her.
Before advancing to the airline counter, Emma had told him to abandon his shatl and hitch a ride with Clara. Simon had thought she was pulling his leg, but she’d quickly made it clear she wasn’t. “It’s all for the best,” she said. “I’ll explain why later.” When he had proven stubborn, she’d shown him the tickets: there was one for Clara, one for Jenny, one for her, and that was it. If he didn’t hitch with Clara, he wouldn’t be flying. When Simon had protested he couldn’t jump into Clara, not unless she was drunk or unconscious, Emma had advised him to give it a try. With a shrug, Simon had lunged at the girl, certain he would bounce right off, like a pebble hitting a concrete wall. He’d passed inside her easily, as if a door had opened.
And that wasn’t all. Instead of landing in a narrow space and feeling claustrophobic, as had been the case when he’d hijacked Henry, he’d wound up in an area as large as a cathedral. On and on its hollows ran, seemingly forever. And while vast and empty and dimly lit, the space was pleasant and easy to move in, as fine a refuge as any to be found.
What did it mean?
And he hadn’t been alone. He’d come across a kaba belonging to a human. It was timid and had drifted off when Simon had drawn near. In fact, it had abandoned Clara altogether soon after Simon was comfortably installed. Moments later he’d watched in horror as his body, seated only a metre away, had twitched and stretched and gradually stood, a sign the kaba had taken it over. He’d been furious. This kaba had no right to his shatl, never mind that he couldn’t use it any longer. And Emma hadn’t made things better when she’d placed a letter in the hemindh’s hand and advised it to wait until the police showed up.
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