Morpheus Road 02 - The Black

by D. J. MacHale

  "Thanks, I'll remember that."

  He backed away and added, "Take care of your own business, Coop, and you'll be fine."

  "Couldn't have said it better myself."

  Bernie tipped his mailman baseball cap, winked, and then turned on his heel and continued on with his route to nowhere.

  His gossip about Maggie was obnoxious, but it made me wonder if Gramps might be right. Was everybody in the Black out for themselves at any cost? That seemed to go against the purpose of being there. If people were supposed to try and elevate themselves so that they could move on to some higher plane of existence, being all selfish and self-centered seemed like the exact wrong thing to do. I wondered if that was why so many people ended up staying in the Black for so long . . . like Damon.

  And Gramps.

  I had been so jammed up with everybody else's drama, I hadn't thought about what my own purpose was supposed to be in the Black. What did I have to do to fix the person I was? Sure, the past few years I hadn't exactly been a model citizen, so I guess there was a price to pay for that. But what was it? I was on the Morpheus Road just like everybody else. My actions in the Black would either get me to a better existence or dump me into the Blood. Part of me wanted to do exactly what Gramps suggested. I could block out Damon and throw Marsh under the bus and hang out in the perfect vision of my home and stand just as good a chance as anybody else for moving on to the big ol' reward in the sky.

  As long as I could handle the guilt.

  I stood in front of the perfect image of my perfect house, wishing I knew the right answer. I wanted to talk to somebody who was just as conflicted as I was, and the only person I knew of who fit that profile was Maggie. I'd been warned to stay away from her by two people who'd both said the same thing: She was bad news and would only cause me trouble. Maybe that was why I wanted to talk to her. I usually did the exact opposite of what people said was good for me, which meant I was probably going to be a resident of the Black for a good long time.

  I closed my eyes and pictured Maggie in front of her house in early winter. Her vision. When I opened my eyes, the rippling colors had appeared in front of me. I took one step away from my house . . .

  . . . and a second step into her yard. So simple. I stood on a dirt and gravel driveway that was between her house and the large gray barn.

  "Maggie?" I called out.

  No answer. I was about to head toward her house but the barn grabbed my attention. Something about the old building bothered Maggie. She looked right at it when I asked her when she had died. I couldn't help but wonder why. There was no way I'd just come out and say, "So? What's up with the barn?" I was bold but not that bold. I thought maybe the barn itself might provide some answers. So I turned away from the house and approached the old structure.

  The building looked big enough to hold a couple of cars and maybe a workshop. There were two big swinging doors in front that were latched together. They each had to be ten feet high, and together, twice as wide. The wood was gray and weathered but as I got closer I could see that it had been painted white at one time. Most of the paint had worn off, probably from years of weather and sun, but when I stood directly in front of the door, I saw that there were patches of paint that looked to have bubbled up and peeled away. It was like there were random places where the paint hadn't grabbed hold of the wood. Or somehow had lost its hold.

  I wasn't sure if I actually felt it, or if I was remembering the dark look that Maggie got when she stared at it, but something seemed wrong about the place. I feared that whatever I would find inside wouldn't be good. It made me want to open the door all the more.

  A heavy padlock hung open on the latch. There was nothing to stop me from swinging open the tall double doors and letting the light of day expose whatever it was that was hidden inside. I reached forward and unhooked the rusty latch, then used it to pull open the right door. The hinges groaned as it slowly swung open a few inches, and I was instantly hit with a smell that was so strong it made me cough. It wasn't a bad smell, but it definitely proved that the barn hadn't been opened in a very long time. It was like I had released a dank cloud that had been bottled up inside. I was afraid that if I thought about it too long I'd chicken out and take off, so I grabbed the latch and was about to yank the door wide open, when I saw movement to my right.

  Somebody was watching me from around the corner.

  "Maggie?" I called, and left the door to run and see who it was. I sprinted for the corner of the barn and rounded it to see . . . nobody. Whoever it was, was probably behind the barn.

  "Is that you, Maggie?"

  "No," came Maggie's answer.

  I turned back quickly to see her behind me, closing the barn doors. There was no way she could have run all the way around so fast.

  I was hit with a wave of guilt. Seeing her standing there with those big sad eyes made me realize that I had crossed a line I shouldn't have.

  "I—I'm sorry," I stammered. "I shouldn't be here. I know. But I was afraid to ask you about, you know, things and I thought I could just find out for myself and . . . I'm sorry."

  Maggie slammed the doors closed and hurried back toward her house.

  "C'mon, talk to me," I said while running after her. "I'm just trying to understand."

  I felt like I had to make things right or she'd block me from her vision and I'd never see her again. I couldn't let that happen, so I took a chance and grabbed her arm to stop her.

  "Please, talk to me," I begged.

  Maggie whipped around and pulled away from me with strength that surprised me.

  "Don't touch me!" she screamed.

  I was thrown by her violent reaction because I had barely touched her. She was in tears and I wasn't sure if it was because I was snooping around where I didn't belong or because I had grabbed her. I backed away with my hands up.

  "Okay. Sorry."

  She stood there breathing hard and crying, but she didn't leave. I had nothing to lose so I decided to stop treating her like a frightened deer.

  "I know about your parents," I said.

  Her surprised look crushed me. Whatever pain she was feeling, I'd just added to it. But there was no turning back.

  "I mean, I don't know how it happened but you're still here. In the Black. That's a good thing, right? I mean, as opposed to . . . you know."

  "I don't know why I'm here," she cried. "They're going to come for me, I know that. And you know what? I want them to. I want this to be over."

  Her words came out between tortured sobs. It felt like she was letting stuff out that had been building up for a long time. It suddenly made sense why she was so afraid. She was waiting for the ax to fall on her.

  She squinted at me through puffy red eyes and said, "Sometimes I wonder if this is really the Blood because I can't imagine anything worse."

  She sat down in the gravel driveway, her head bowed, her hair falling down in front of her eyes. I wasn't sure what to do, seeing as I was the one who set her off in the first place. I sat down, but not too close to her.

  "This isn't the Blood," I said calmly. "And if you're still here, it means you don't have to end up there."

  Maggie didn't move. She didn't argue either.

  "I won't judge you, Maggie," I continued. "I'm sorry I tried to look in the barn. That was just me being curious and it was wrong. But you helped me and I'd like to try and help you too."

  "You can't," she whispered without raising her head. "I don't belong here. There's nothing I can do to change the person I am, or what I did."

  I wanted details but there was no chance I was going to ask for them.

  "You helped me," I said. "That's a good thing, right?"

  She snickered. "I reached out to your friend in the Light. That alone could send me to the Blood. But you know something? I don't care. I did it because it was the right thing to do."

  "I agree."

  "And I did it again."

  "Wait. You would or you did?"

  "I did. I
went to the Light and showed your friend the symbol again. The three swirls. He was in the shower. I made it appear in the steam on the glass wall."

  The idea that Maggie was in the shower with Marsh was a little wrong, but there were bigger issues to deal with so I didn't go there.

  "How did he react?"

  "He's scared," she said with certainty. "And not just from what I did. There's more going on with him. I'm afraid I only made things worse."

  "But you didn't! Marsh is with Sydney now. He's not alone anymore, thanks to you."

  Maggie looked up and actually smiled. "He is?"

  "Yes, but if contacting Marsh could send you to the Blood, you shouldn't do it anymore."

  "I don't care," she said quickly. "Maybe it'll get me there faster and end this nightmare."

  "What if the Blood is an even worse nightmare?"

  She pushed her hair out of her eyes and sat up straight, back in control. "Then, it is. I don't care. We're supposed to be here so we can become better people and make up for the things we did in life, but how can ignoring somebody who's in trouble make you a better person?"

  "My grandfather says that everybody in the Black is only out for themselves and would do anything to move on to a better existence."

  "I don't believe that," she said. "If turning your back on somebody who needs help is the Watchers' idea of what makes you a better person, I'm not so sure I want to know what that better existence is. I mean, if you can't live with yourself, what's the point?"

  Her words rocked me. "Yeah, what is the point?" I repeated to myself.

  I wanted to lean over and give her a hug of thanks, but didn't dare. With those few words, she made everything completely clear to me. "You're right," I said. "And I'm somebody who needs help, if you're still willing."

  "What else can I do?"

  "For one, I don't want you messing around in the Light anymore. You shouldn't be getting in trouble for battles I should be fighting."

  "But you don't know how to contact Marsh," she said.

  "Teach me," I said quickly. "That's how you can help. How did you move the chocolate powder and the glass?"

  "It's hard. The most we can do is create a ripple of energy that nudges something or pushes it into a shape."

  "But you moved all that glass. That's not so light."

  "I'd never done anything like that before. I think it worked because of you."

  "Me? I didn't do anything."

  "But you did, just by being there."

  "Because I have a connection with Marsh?"

  "Yes. I've been in the Black a long time and had the chance to move through many visions and learn from spirits that existed in more times than you can imagine. It seems to me that the Light and the Black and whatever else is out there all exist in the same place. It's all just one big universe of lives that sometimes touch one another. From what I can tell, those who meant something to one another in life share a powerful bond. It's that connection that helps create the energy. It was your connection to Marsh that helped me move those things."

  "So, then, I might be able to contact Marsh on my own," I said, thinking out loud.

  "Maybe. It's all about focus and concentration and visualizing what you want to have happen."

  "So I just think it? Like moving around in the Black or into the Light?"

  "More or less. But don't expect big results."

  My mind raced to a couple of possibilities, but I needed to know more.

  "My gramps said that we can block spirits from entering our vision. How do I do that?"

  "You want to keep Damon away?"

  "Well, yeah. Duh."

  "Then, it's done. If you don't want him in your vision, he can't go there."

  "Simple as that?"

  "Yes, but only in the Black. You can't keep him away from you in the Light. The Light is neutral."

  "Got it. The Light is Switzerland."

  She frowned. She didn't get that. I stood up and helped her to her feet.

  "I think you're right," I said. "If we're here to become better people, then we have to follow our conscience. If that's wrong, then maybe I belong in the Blood myself."

  Maggie's eyes focused on something behind me. I turned to see two Watchers standing in front of Gramps' house.

  "Did you hear that?" I yelled to them. "I'm gonna do what I think is right! If you don't like that—"

  The Watchers vanished.

  I laughed. "Guess that wasn't such a good start."

  Maggie chuckled. Her face lit up when she laughed. I hated it that she was so troubled, no matter what she might have done in a previous life.

  "Good luck, Cooper. I hope your friend will be okay. And you too."

  I wanted to kiss her, but didn't think that would be cool. "I'll let you know."

  I took a step back and turned to face the colorful fog. I knew exactly where I wanted to go, and with two steps I was there.

  I found myself standing on the grass between the lake and our cottage on Thistledown Lake, in the Light. Sydney was on the float in the lake, working on her tan. She had on a red bikini top and jean shorts. I knew why she had on the shorts, too. She was hiding the tattoo.

  Marsh was lying on a blue towel, asleep. On his chest was a Batman graphic novel. He had no idea that the spirit of his dead friend was standing there, watching him snore. Heck, he didn't even know his friend was dead. Nobody did. They probably all thought I'd taken off to be alone for a while. I'd done it before. That had to be why they weren't searching for the body that was lying in sixty feet of water. Somehow, some way, I had to let them know. If I was going to protect Marsh from Damon, he had to know that I was dead.

  I knelt down next to my sleeping friend and barked out, "Ralph!"

  He didn't react, no big surprise. The graphic novel was open on his chest. I thought that I could do something with the pages. Maybe move them around until it opened to a page that would get Marsh's attention. I leaned over and stared at the book, focusing my thoughts on the page, willing it to move.

  I felt the odd tingle move through me. It was the strangest thing I'd ever felt and I had to believe that it was the kind of energy ripple that Maggie had created. If there were any two people who had a connection that would make this work, it was Marsh and me. The air in front of the book went blurry. I blinked. It wasn't my imagination. It was really happening. Slowly, ever so slowly, the page lifted and gently flapped over as if blown by a slight gust of wind.

  "Yes!" I shouted, and jumped to my feet.

  I had actually done it! Marsh's eyes opened lazily and he laughed. He must have felt the air move. Psyche! But when I knelt down and looked at the book, my excitement ended. As dramatic as it was to have turned the page, it meant nothing. It wasn't like there was a page in the book that said, "Hey, Marsh. Cooper's dead and his body is lying on the bottom of the lake, and you're being haunted by a Macedonian madman."

  I sat down, trying to figure out a plan B, when I noticed that a breeze had kicked up. A real one. There was a field of dandelions next to our house and the gentle wind had blown in a storm of gray seeds that floated in the air like a fuzzy cloud. I stared at the floating seeds as they danced on the breeze, thinking how they were so light. And moveable. Was it possible that I could direct them somewhere? If I did, what would I do with them? Spell out "Coop is a ghost!" in the sky? Not likely. I had to come up with something simple like the triple swirl tattoo. Marsh was a smart guy. He could put two and two together and get twenty-two. But what could I possibly tell him that would put him on the trail to the truth?

  The night I died I had gone out on the lake to look at the stars. Marsh and I had done that a hundred times ourselves, without the gruesome speedboat death part, that is. What kind of clue could I give him that would get him thinking that way?

  I was interrupted by a splash of water, and a scream. While I was focused on floating dandelion seeds, Sydney had come in from the float and tossed a bucketful of lake water onto Marsh's head. Witch.


  Marsh sat up fast, sputtering water and wiping his eyes. "What was that for?"

  "You were creeping me out, lying there laughing like that," Sydney said. "I thought you were having a freak seizure."

  "That's idiotic," Marsh shot back, more stunned than angry.

  "Idiotic? Me?" Sydney laughed and picked up Marsh's book. "You're lying here reading comic books and laughing like a lunatic and I'm the idiot?"

  I said, "It's not a comic book. It's a graphic novel."

  Of course she didn't hear me.

  "It's a graphic novel," Marsh said.

  "Thank you," I added for nobody's benefit but my own.

  Marsh tried to grab it back but Sydney held it away. "Seriously?" she said, scoffing. "Batman? Isn't that for kids? Pow! Bam! Crunch!"

  "If you looked closer, you'd see it's a much edgier, multifaceted version of the legend of the Bat than the comedic version you're referring to."

  I said, "You're not helping yourself here, dude."

  Sydney turned cold and stared Marsh down. I'd seen that look before. It could burn through lead. Marsh didn't stand a chance.

  "I'd laugh if I thought you were kidding," she said with disdain. After dropping the graphic novel onto the towel, she turned away, clutching whatever thick important textbook she was reading, and marched for the house.

  Sydney was an expert at making people feel small. It made me wonder if Marsh needed protection from Damon and my sister. He stood there looking lost, then lifted his chin and closed his eyes. I wasn't sure what he was doing at first, until I registered the dandelion spores again. The storm of seeds was pretty thick as it floated past him, some getting caught in his hair. Seeing them gave me an idea.

  I dropped to my knees in front of the dark blue towel and focused my thoughts. My idea was to use the dandelion spores to create a pattern, like Maggie did with the chocolate and the glass. It was more complex than the triple swirl, but I knew that if I could pull it off, it would put Marsh square on my trail. I closed my eyes and created a mental image in my mind. Five images, actually. The ones I knew best. It was Marsh who'd taught me about them. He was the expert. I made fun of him at the time. Now I hoped the knowledge he shared with me would pay off.