Morpheus Road 02 - The Black

by D. J. MacHale

  "No," she said, looking sheepish. "Homecoming party. Some guys brought beer. I only had a couple but I never should have tried to drive home. It was totally my fault. Thank god nobody else died. You looking for a toy?"

  She reached to a counter and picked up a small, threadbare brown teddy bear with one eye missing. It was my teddy bear. I hadn't seen it since I was seven.

  "I'll bet you miss him," the girl said with a smile.

  I stumbled backward and pushed my way out of the store to where my Gramps, or whoever he was, waited.

  "It's okay, Coop," he said. "You'll be fine."

  "Fine!" I screamed. "You're telling me I'm dead. How is that fine?"

  Gramps chuckled. "I said the exact same thing when I got here. I was running all over the place, trying to figure out why everybody I saw was somebody dead." He waved his hands in the air, rolled his eyes dramatically, and yelled, "Get me outta here! I don't belong here!" He laughed. "Yeah, that was me. I was in denial. It's natural."

  I didn't know what to say. I didn't want to believe him but didn't have any other explanation. He put his arm around my shoulders. I didn't fight. He was my gramps.

  "Try to relax, kiddo. It gets better once you realize it's just part of life. Everybody comes through here eventually."

  "Where is 'here'?"

  "C'mon," he said. "I'll buy you an ice cream."

  A few minutes later we were back in Meade's, sitting in a booth like we had done hundreds of times before. Donna, the soda jerk, served us two impossibly perfect banana splits. I wasn't hungry. How could I be? I was dead. It didn't stop Gramps, though. He chowed. Once he scooped out the last of his sundae and let out a healthy belch, he was ready to talk.

  "They call this place the Black. Not sure why. Maybe because of what we go through to get here. Kind of ironic, don't you think?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "Everybody talks about going toward the light when they're dying. Truth is it's just the opposite. Back there, where the living exist, that's the Light. Must be somebody's idea of a joke."

  "But this is Stony Brook," I said.

  "To you it is. Everybody sees it differently. That's the point. When you're here, it's pretty much like how you remember it from the Light. Only difference is, the people still living back there aren't here. Not yet, anyway. That's the biggest downside. Leaving folks behind. I've been waiting on your grandma for… How long's it been since I took the dirt nap?"

  "Dirt nap?"

  "Don't be dense, boy. When did I die?"

  "About five years ago."

  He whistled. "Never would have guessed that. Time doesn't mean much here. Doesn't mean anything."

  "So you see this place like Stony Brook too?"

  "When I'm with you. I can see things the way you see them, and you can see through my point of view. My vision." He leaned in and gave me a mischievous smile. "Think you're ready to give it a try?"

  "I don't know what to think anymore," I said.

  Gramps slid out of the booth and called out, "Put this on my tab, Donna."

  "Will do!" the old lady called back. "You got a fine grandson there, Gene. You should be proud."

  "He's all right," Gramps said. "A little full of himself but what can you do."

  Donna laughed. "So he's just like you."

  "That's enough out of you, young lady," Gramps said playfully.

  She winked, "Have fun, you two."

  "This is just wrong," I said, numb.

  "Sorry, Coop. It's as right as can be," he said, holding out his hand, beckoning me to join him. "C'mon."

  I slid out of the booth but didn't take his hand. "Where are we going?"

  "Home."

  We were suddenly enveloped in a swirling mass of colored fog. It was exactly like the experience I had when I first found myself standing in the pocket park. The drugstore washed away and was quickly replaced by green trees. The temperature changed and it was suddenly chilly. When the fog dissipated, I saw that we were surrounded by tall trees that were alive with the colors of fall. It was the height of the changing season and the leaves were brilliant shades of red, yellow, and gold. We had not only left Stony Brook Avenue, we had left summer.

  Gramps and I were standing in the exact same position as when we were in the drugstore, only we were in a field of grass. I didn't know if we had moved, or if everything else had moved around us.

  Gramps took a deep breath, filling his lungs with brisk fall air.

  "Perfect," he declared. "My favorite time of year." "Where are we?" I asked.

  "C'mon now! Hasn't been that long, has it?"

  There was something familiar about the surroundings. We were standing at the edge of thick woods. I made a slow turn until I saw a white clapboard farmhouse sitting on a rise not thirty yards from us.

  In spite of how impossible it all seemed, I had to smile. "It's your house," I said with a gasp.

  "That's better," he said. "C'mon, let's have a sit."

  The two of us walked across his yard together like we had done so many times before. It made me remember all the time I'd spent with him, helping him with his garden or putting in brick walkways or raking leaves. When I was little, Gramps and I were pals. Seeing that house took away any shred of doubt I had. He was really Gramps.

  "This is my vision of the Black," he explained. "My house. In fall. Everything's perfect, 'cept for your grandma not being here."

  Gramps lived in a rural area north of Stony Brook. It wasn't far from civilization, but going there always felt like we had entered another world. On the far side of Gramps' house was a property that was almost as big as his, with another farmhouse and a large barn. A split rail fence separated the two yards.

  Someone was standing on the other side of the fence, watching us. It was a girl who could have been my age. She had short black hair and wore a plain, flowered dress and an old blue sweater. She stood there staring at us, but it wasn't unnerving like with the silent creeps in black on the Ave.

  When she realized that I had noticed her, she turned and hurried toward her house.

  "Who's that?" I asked. "I don't remember her living next to you."

  Gramps didn't even look her way. "She lived in that house long before your grandma and I lived here together."

  "Seriously?" I asked. "She's from a different time?"

  "Yup."

  "I don't get it. Is this your vision or hers?"

  "Depends on who you're talking to. Things tend to overlap, but that's what makes it so interesting. You never know who you might run across or where they might take you."

  "So what's her story?"

  "Don't know," Gramps said abruptly. "She doesn't talk much . . . or at all."

  I got the impression that he didn't want to talk about the girl next door. She stood watching us from her porch, peeking out from around a corner as if she didn't want us to know she was there. I gave her a friendly wave and she ducked back like I had whipped a rock at her head.

  Gramps led me up onto his porch, where he sat in his favorite white wicker rocking chair. I took my regular place on the wicker couch with the flowered cushions. It felt like I was eight again. Eight and dead.

  "You want some ice tea?" Gramps asked.

  "I want to go home. I can't be dead. I'm still in high school."

  "I know, Coop. I wish you didn't have to know about any of this yet. But unfortunately, age has got nothing to do with it."

  "But it's wrong. I shouldn't be here."

  "Lots of folks feel that way at first."

  "I don't care about other folks. I can't accept this."

  Gramps scratched his head again. "Look, Coop, everybody travels the same road. You step on it when you're born into the Light and you follow it all the way through here until you reach the place where you'll spend eternity. We're all on the way there. No use trying to fight it."

  "Whoa, wait. This isn't the end of the line?"

  "The Black? Nah, this is only a stop along the road. Everybody comes here fir
st. What you do while you're here determines how long you stay, and where you go."

  "How's that?"

  "Nobody's perfect, Coop. We all had different lives. Different personalities. The way I understand it, being here in the Black gives you the chance to look back on your life and who you were and make whatever changes it takes that'll help you to move on. It's a chance to be the person you want to be. Or should be."

  "And then what?" I asked.

  Gramps shrugged. "Damned if I know. There ain't any instruction manuals. People come, people go. We all just kind of share information. But what I'm thinking is that once we make things right, we get to go on to the big reward."

  "Heaven?"

  "I guess. I don't know. Nobody calls it that. I can't imagine that floating around in white robes with wings and playing a harp is any kind of reward. If that's the case, I'd just as soon stay here and rock on the porch. But there's definitely something further down the road. I've seen lots of people move on."

  I looked out over Gramps' yard. Every detail was familiar and perfect, right down to the wishing well in front. "You sure this isn't heaven?" I asked.

  "To me it is, but it's only temporary."

  "So we're supposed to go back to the Light and fix something we messed up? Like taking care of unfinished business?"

  "No! Uh-uh." he said quickly. "That's the last thing we're supposed to do. What's done is done. It's a big no-no to mess with things in the Light."

  "Then, what are we supposed to change?"

  "Ourselves. Like I said. You may have died but you're still you. What you get here is the chance to become the best person you can be. Personally, I don't know why I've been here as long as I have. Far as I can tell, I'm pretty near perfect."

  He gave me a sly smile. "Then again, maybe that's why I'm still here. Humility isn't one of my strengths. I'm thinking you might suffer the same problem."

  "So, what do I do?"

  "For one, keep your nose clean. You may think you're all that and a bag of chips, but you've been acting like a fool with all your brawling and nonsense. And what you did with them fake tickets had 'dumb' written all over it."

  "How did you know about all that? I thought you aren't supposed to interfere with the Light."

  "Observing isn't the same as interfering. Fact is, what we are has a lot to do with the people we left back in the Light. We can learn from them and maybe see things about ourselves we couldn't see before."

  "We can see into the Light?"

  "Of course. It's one of the things that keeps me from missing your grandma too bad. And the family. And you. But you're here now, I'm sorry to say."

  "Can I do it?" I asked.

  "Look into the Light? Absolutely."

  "How?"

  "It's as simple as using your imagination. In fact, that's exactly how it works. Close your eyes and think about something you might want to see."

  "That's it?"

  "Give it a try."

  Nothing I had seen since I woke up from that blackout-coma made much sense and this was no different. I had nothing to lose so I closed my eyes and thought about home. The first thing that popped into my head was Marsh. I'm not sure why. Maybe it was because I was thinking about him playing the drums just before—well, just before things went black.

  "Take a look," Gramps said.

  I opened my eyes to see that the multicolored fog had appeared as a small cloud that hovered in front of my face. "Look inside," he said, gesturing toward the cloud.

  I wasn't exactly sure what he meant, but I leaned forward and put my face into the swirling cloud. It was like pushing my way through a curtain. I was still on Gramps' porch, but another image appeared in front of me. It was mostly transparent so I could still see the yard, but I could definitely make out that I was seeing something else.

  It was Marsh's bedroom.

  The door flew open and Marsh hurried in. He stood at the foot of his bed with his fists clenched. I rarely saw Marsh get angry, but when he did, watch out.

  "Marsh?" I called tentatively.

  Marsh didn't react.

  "He can't hear you," I heard Gramps say.

  Marsh's whole body was tense. He whipped his head around as if looking for something. His eyes settled on a shelf next to his bed that was full of stuff his mom had sent him from her travels. It was mostly junk like small statues and bamboo flutes, but it all meant something to Marsh because it reminded him of his mom. He stormed over to the shelf and picked up a golden ball that was about the size of a plum. I'd never seen it before. It looked ancient, with odd characters carved all over it. Without hesitation, he spun around, cocked his arm, and threw it across the room.

  "Whoa!" I shouted in surprise. Of course he didn't hear me.

  The ball nailed a framed picture on the far wall and smashed to bits. I thought I saw it spew something red and wet all over the wall but I can't say for sure because as soon as the ball exploded, the ground moved as if the destruction of the ball had caused an earthquake. I saw Marsh grab on to his desk for balance.

  Stranger still, I felt it too.

  "Gramps?" I called out in confusion.

  The image of Marsh's bedroom jumbled to nothing. The shaking was so severe it knocked me off my feet. As soon as I fell to my knees, the shaking stopped. The bizarre event lasted only a few seconds.

  "What the heck was that?" I gasped.

  I opened my eyes to see that I wasn't kneeling on the wooden floor of Gramps' porch anymore. I wasn't in Marsh's bedroom, either. I was on my hands and knees in brown, hard-packed sand. I lifted my hands to see they were covered with fine grit.

  "What happened?" I asked Gramps as I got to my feet.

  Gramps wasn't there. Or maybe I was the one who wasn't there. Wind kicked up more sand, stinging my eyes. I looked around to try and understand. What I saw made me want to drop to my knees again.

  I was standing in front of an old-style stone building that looked like something out of ancient Greece. Only, the building didn't look all that ancient, and neither did the guy standing in the doorway.

  "Hello," he called to me in a deep, booming voice. "I have been looking forward to meeting you."

  5

  Up until then, everything I had seen was familiar.

  Weird, but familiar. Now I had landed in alien territory. I was standing in what looked like a village square straight out of ancient Rome. The buildings were made of stone, surrounding a fountain in the middle of the dusty street. The fountain was a huge stone sculpture of a muscular, godlike warrior with a massive sword battling scrawny soldiers half his size. The smaller statues in the fountain had water coming out of their mouths that didn't flow so much as trickle, landing at their feet with a steady drip…drip…drip like they were bleeding. The sound was small, but it filled the ancient-looking square.

  The village was tucked into a narrow valley. Steep, rocky hills rose high up on either side, covered by what I'm guessing were olive trees. At one end of the square was a tall building with a dome that could have been a church or a temple or a library or I really didn't know what. As old as the buildings looked, they weren't falling-down ancient. Still, it looked as though I had been transported to a vision in the Black from another era. Question was, whose vision was it?

  I didn't have to wait long for the answer.

  "I am so pleased that you have arrived!" the guy called to me from the building. He was short and stocky and looked to have come from a different time. Different from mine, that is. He wore a light brown loose-fitting wrapped thing that drooped down below his knees. On his feet were sandals with leather straps that wrapped around his lower legs. His hair was short and black with bangs that cut straight across his forehead. He hurried down the steps and shuffled toward me quickly with a broad, welcoming smile.

  "I trust you have not been waiting long," he said.

  "Where is this?" I asked.

  "We are in my vision of the Black, of course. You would call it Macedonia."

  "Who ar
e you?"

  The guy bowed formally but didn't take his eyes off me. "I am Damon of Epirus. Welcome to my humble village."

  His dark eyes bugged out of his round face in a way that would have been comical if not for the fact that he kept staring at me as if expecting me to make a wrong move. Now that he was closer, I saw that his face was badly scarred. Dozens of thin white streaks crisscrossed his cheeks and nose. The guy had been messed up. I didn't think you could survive something like that.

  Maybe he didn't.

  "So… you're dead?" I asked.

  He shrugged and chuckled. "Aren't we all?"

  "Right. Dumb question. Why am I here?"

  He took my arm in a friendly way and we strolled toward the large building.

  "I brought you here, Cooper Foley."

  "Whoa, you know me?"

  "I do. I know all about you. You are resourceful. And loyal. You never back away from a fight. In fact, you enjoy the occasional battle. Perhaps most important, you are a survivor."

  "Yeah, well, not exactly. I'm here, right?"

  "Indeed!" he exclaimed jovially. "Very good!"

  "How do you know so much about me?"

  "I have been observing you for quite some time now."

  "How? I just got here."

  "My observations of you have been in the Light."

  The little guy was starting to creep me out. He seemed harmless, but spying on me from the afterlife was just wrong. "Why?" I asked.

  "To help you. There are many roads to take through the Black. Select your course wisely and your future can be a glorious one."

  "What are you, my guardian angel?"

  That made him chuckle. "Hardly."

  "But you know the right roads to take?"

  "I do," was his simple, confident answer.

  "Wait, how long have you been here?"

  He shrugged and scoffed. "Time has little meaning."

  "Yeah, I heard that, but seriously. When did you die? People don't dress like that anymore, unless you drowned bobbing for apples at a Halloween party."

  Damon shot me a quick, vicious glare. He didn't appreciate my sense of humor. The guy may have looked like a Hobbit, but he had a temper. The look disappeared as quickly as it arrived, and he smiled. "By your calendar I entered the Black in the year 323 BCE."