Nick had to laugh. With all of Johnnie-O's tough-guy attitude, he had turned out to be a solid friend. Of course it hadn't started that way. Johnnie-O was none too happy when Nick showed up with his magic bucket of coins. That bucket, like the fortune cookies, like the coins themselves, were a gift from the unknown places beyond the tunnel-- because the bucket was never empty as long as there was a soul who needed a coin. Nick thought he'd have to search far and wide for those coins, and the fact that the bucket would refill itself the moment no one was looking was a sign to Nick that he was doing the right thing.
Johnnie-O had watched as every member of his gang took a coin, and completed their journey out of Everlost. Why Johnnie-O didn't use his own coin is something only he could know--Nick never asked him why--such a decision was too personal to ever question.
"I'll send you down!" Johnnie-O had screamed the day his gang took their coins and disappeared. "Even if I gotta go down to the center of the earth with you, I'll send you down!" And he had almost done it too. He and Nick had fought and struggled until both were chest deep in the earth. But when Johnnie-O realized he really would go down along with Nick, he backed off, pulled himself out, and let Nick pull himself out as well.
Nick liked to think that, in the end, Johnnie-O realized that giving those kids a ticket out of Everlost was the right thing to do. Nick liked to think Johnnie-O respected him for it. Of course Johnnie-O would never admit that aloud, but the fact that he stayed with Nick, and helped him in his own intimidating way, was proof enough for Nick.
With the boy dispatched to his destination, Nick went up to the train's engine, where a nine-year-old who called himself Choo-choo Charlie stoked the boiler and studied a map that he had drawn himself. Aside from Charlie's map, no one had ever made a record of Everlost's rail lines.
"D'ya think Mary would put my map in one of her books?" Charlie asked.
"Mary won't put anything in her books that doesn't help Mary," Nick told him. "You'd probably have to draw a map where all roads lead to her ."
Charlie laughed. "Most of 'em kinda do," he said. "She's got her fingers in everything." Then he got a little quiet. A little scared, maybe. "D'ya think she knows I'm helping you?"
"She'll forgive you," Nick said. "She prides herself on how forgiving she is. She'd even forgive me if I gave up my 'evil ways.' Anyway, you're not 'helping me'--I've hired you, and business is business, right?"
Then Nick handed Charlie a mug full of chocolate. Payment for his services.
"Someday I'm gonna get tired of this stuff," Charlie warned.
"Well," said Nick, "it's all I've got to give."
Charlie shrugged it off. "No worries. I can always trade it for something else."
He was right about that. As awful as Nick's affliction was, in Everlost dripping chocolate was like dripping gold. It was his bad luck to die at fourteen with a chocolate smudge on his face, and as he forgot more and more of his life on earth, that little smudge spread. In Everlost, we are what we remember, Mary had once told him. So why did he have to remember that stupid chocolate stain?
Allie--who had died in the same accident as Nick-- had never laughed at Nick because of it. And when other kids in Mary's domain had taken to calling him "Hershey," she helped him fight to keep his memories and his name. The thought of Allie saddened him. They had arrived here together, and had journeyed through Everlost together. He had always felt that their fates were somehow intertwined, but they had both gone their separate ways, and Nick never even had the chance to say good-bye. No doubt Allie finally made her way home to find what became of her family. He wondered if she ever took hold of her coin, and completed her journey. He hoped she had, but another, more selfish side of himself hoped that she remained here in Everlost, so he might see her again someday.
"Look," said Charlie, "Mary's already leaving."
Sure enough, Nick could see the Hindenburg in the distance, rising up to the sky.
"I should have stayed there by that tree," Nick said. "Then she'd have to face me."
"Wouldn't work," said Johnnie-O. "If she saw you there, she'd never get out of that ship."
Johnnie-O was, right, of course. Still, Nick longed for the moment they came face-to-face. It wasn't just about seeing her frustration--it was about seeing her. Being close to her again. In spite of everything, he still loved her. It made no sense to Charlie or Johnnie-O, but it made perfect sense to Nick, because he understood Mary more than she understood herself. She was a victim of her own righteous nature--a slave to the order she tried to impose on Everlost. If he could, Nick would open her eyes to the truth of it, making her see that she was creating far more harm than good. Then, he would be there to comfort her in that moment of revelation, when all she believed about herself crumbled before her. Once she understood what was truly right, Nick had to believe she would embrace it, and together they would free as many souls from Everlost as they could. This was the Mary he loved. The Mary that could be.
Each time Nick arrived at one of her traps, and freed one of her snagged souls, he hoped for that moment of confrontation, where her anger would be undermined by the love he knew she felt for him. But she never came forward to face him. Instead, Mary always left without affording him the dignity of a proper slap in the face.
"She's heading northwest," Charlie said. "D'ya want to follow her again?"
"Where are we?" Nick asked.
Charlie looked at his map. "Somewhere in Virginia. East of Richmond."
This was the farthest south they'd ever been--but there were Afterlights who Nick had come across, who spoke of things even farther south than this. Rumors. Things that could not be believed in the living world, but in Everlost, anything was possible. So Mary would not face him--and now he suspected she never would without a full-out war. There was no question her soul traps were all about gathering up an army. Fine, Mary, thought Nick. If that's what you want, then I'll play.
"Head south."
Charlie shook his head. "Can't. I haven't charted any tracks south of Virginia. Why d'ya wanna go south anyway? Nothing there but the Everwild."
Nick grunted in frustration at the mention of it. "That's all I ever hear! Everwild to the north, Everwild to the west, Everwild to the south--"
"Hey, it's not my fault no one knows what's out there!"
"And to the Afterlights there, we're in the Everwild." Perhaps the living world had finally connected coast-to-coast and around the world, but Everlost was a new frontier. It was just like the days when America was still the New World, and no one knew what breathtaking vistas and unforeseen dangers lay over the next ridge. Perhaps the unknown wouldn't have been so daunting if they had an entire crew--but unlike Mary, Nick hadn't been interested in collecting followers. His job was to get rid of them, which made it hard to maintain more than just the barest of skeleton crews--namely, himself, Charlie, and Johnnie-O. It was time to change all that.
"Come on, Charlie--let's tame the Everwild! We'll chart the rails, and mark the deadspots on the way!"
And although Charlie was reluctant to travel to places unknown, Nick knew he was tempted. There was a certain excitement in breaking away from the familiar, and shattering old routines.
"We'll need to look for a finder who can trade us the paper we'll need to make a new map," said Charlie, "but until then I can scratch the map into the engine bulkhead."
Nick slapped him on the back, leaving an accidental chocolate stain. "Let's get started, then. We'll get to the southern Afterlights before Mary can!"
With the furnace blazing on the memory of coal, the steam engine headed south into a vast unknowable wild.
CHAPTER 4 The Outcast
On a warm June afternoon, two finders came to a small-town diner that had burned down many years before. The living world had paved over the spot, and turned it into a parking lot for the bank next door, but in Everlost, the diner remained, its chrome siding shining in the afternoon sun. It was the only building in town that had crossed, and so had
become a home to about a dozen Afterlights.
The finders, a boy and a girl, arrived riding a horse. This was unheard of. Well, not entirely unheard of. There were stories about one finder in particular who traveled on the only horse ever known to have crossed into Everlost--and it was said she did travel with a companion, although he never played into the stories much.
As the kids stepped out of the diner, they kept their distance, wanting to, but also afraid to believe that this could be the finder of legend. The cluster of Afterlights were young--and the oldest girl from the diner (who, not surprisingly called herself "Dinah") was their leader. She was ten when she had died, and the thing she remembered about herself more than anything else was that she had long, luxurious hair--so now it trailed behind her like a smooth amber bridal train.
It had been a while since finders had come to town, and their arrival always began with hope, and ended with disappointment. Finders were endlessly searching out objects that crossed into Everlost, bartering and trading the items they found for things of greater value. But nothing much crossed here. The finders usually left with a sneer and didn't come back.
"Sorry," Dinah said to the two, as they got off their horse. "We don't have much to trade. Just this." And she held out a shoelace.
The boy laughed. "The lace crossed, but not the shoe that went with it?"
Dinah shrugged. She expected this reaction. "It's what we've got. If you want it, then give us something in return. If not, then leave." She looked over at the girl, daring to ask what the younger kids in her care were too afraid to ask. "You have a name?"
The girl smiled. "If you want my name, it'll cost you a shoelace."
Dinah pulled the shoelace back, shoving it in her pocket. "A name's not even worth that much here. It's probably made up anyway, like everyone else's."
The girl finder grinned again. "I think I have something to trade for the lace." Then she reached into a saddlebag and pulled out a shimmering ornament that said Baby's first Christmas.
All the younger kids oohed and ahhed, but Dinah kept her stony expression. "That's worth more than a shoelace. And finders don't just give things away."
"Consider it a gift of good will," the girl said, "from Allie the Outcast."
This was the moment Allie loved most. The gasps, and the expressions on their faces. Some would believe she was who she claimed to be, others would have their doubts, but by the time she left, they would all believe--because it was true, and she liked to believe that truth did make itself clear in the end.
The young Afterlights, who had been so standoffish just a moment ago, now crowded around her, bombarding her with questions.
"You're Allie the Outcast?"
"Is it true you can skinjack?"
"Is it true you spit in the face of the Sky Witch?"
"Is it true you charmed the McGill like a snake?"
She glanced at Mikey, who was not at all amused.
"I admit nothing," Allie said with a smirk, which just made them believe it all the more.
Dinah, however was only partially convinced. "All right, if you are who you say you are, then let's see you skinjack." The kids all voiced their nervous approval of the suggestion. "Go on--there's plenty of fleshies around." Allie looked around them, and sure enough the moving blurs of the living swept by them on the street, so easy to tune out when one wasn't looking.
"I'm not a circus act," Allie said sternly. "I don't perform on command." Dinah backed off, then turned her eyes to the other half of the team. "So if she's Allie the Outcast, who are you?"
"My name's Mikey."
Dinah laughed. "Not much of a name for a finder."
"Fine," he said, clenching his fists by his side. "Then I'm the McGill."
But that just made all the other kids laugh too, and Mikey, who had a low threshold when it came to being mocked, stormed away.
Allie still held the ornament out to Dinah, but she didn't accept it. A small boy that had been hiding in Dinah's long trailing hair peered out.
"Please, Dinah ... can't we keep it?" But Dinah shushed him.
"Do other finders come this way?" Allie asked.
Dinah paused purposefully before answering, perhaps to make it clear that she was in control of the conversation. "Sometimes."
"Well, I'll give you this ornament," Allie said, "if you promise to save all your really good finds for me."
"We promise, Allie," all the little kids said. "We promise." Dinah nodded, reluctantly giving in to the wishes of the others, and took the ornament from Allie.
"You also have to promise one more thing."
Dinah's face hardened. Allie could tell by that look on her face that although she appeared to be no older than ten, she was an old, old soul. "What do I have to promise?"
"That if Mary the Sky Witch ever darkens the sky with her great balloon, you'll hide, and you won't let her take you away." The kids all looked to Dinah for guidance. "Then who will protect us from the Chocolate Ogre?" Dinah asked. "Who will protect us from the McGill?"
"It looks like you've done a pretty good job yourself," Allie told her. "And besides, there's no reason to fear the McGill or the Chocolate Ogre. Mary's the one you need to worry about."
They all nodded but seemed unconvinced--after all she was the Outcast. No matter how starstruck they might be, Allie's advice was suspect.
Dinah gave the ornament to one of the other children. "Hang it on the coatrack," she told him. "It's the closest thing we have to a Christmas tree." Then she turned back to Allie. "We'll keep our promise; we'll save the best finds for you."
It was a satisfactory business deal. She had won the loyalty of many groups of Afterlights. No--not groups--vapors, she thought, with a bitter little shake of the head. In one of Mary's annoying little etiquette books, she had insisted that a gathering of Afterlights was properly referred to as "a vapor." A flock of birds, a gaggle of geese, and a vapor of Afterlights. It irritated Allie no end that Mary so effectively determined the language they all used. Allie wouldn't have been surprised if Mary herself had coined the name "Everlost."
Allie found Mikey a street away, stomping on a huge lawn, watching the ripples it created in the living world. He seemed embarrassed to be caught doing something so childlike. Allie tried to hide her smile, because she knew it would embarrass him even more.
"Are we done here?" Mikey asked. "Yes. Where to next?" Allie made room for him on the horse--letting him ride in front of her, holding the reins. In so many other ways he had taken a backseat to her, the least she could do was allow him the dignity of deciding where their travels would take them.
"I have an idea where we should go," Mikey said. "It's not too far from here."
Allie had learned that being a finder was mostly about luck, and keen skills of observation. Some finders were hearse-chasers. That is to say, they lingered around the dying, hoping they might drop something in Everlost while crossing to the other side. But the best finds were always made quite by accident, and the best trades were made by being shrewd but honest. Even now the horse's makeshift saddlebag was full of crossed items--a crystal doorknob, an empty picture frame, a well-worn teddy bear. In Everlost all these things were treasures.
But locating and trading crossed objects was only part of a finder's job. Their real mystique came from their stories-- because while most Afterlights stayed put, finders traveled. They saw more, heard more than others, and spread the tales wherever they went. This is exactly the reason why Allie had decided to become one. When Allie first arrived in Everlost, she had heard tales of monsters and miracles, terror and salvation--but now she had some measure of control over the tales being told. She could spread the word that Mary was the real monster of Everlost and try to set people straight about Nick.
A chocolate ogre? Hah! Nick didn't have an ogreish bone in his body, so to speak. The problem was, Mary was far better at spreading her misinformation. It was much easier for other Afterlights to believe that beauty and virtue went hand in hand.
However, tales of Allie the Outcast were being spread far and wide too. Not all of them were true, of course, but she was developing quite a reputation as Everlost's loose cannon. That got her a certain amount of respect. She could grow used to that.
In fact, she already had.
Cape May: population 4034 in winter, and at least ten times that in the summer. It's the farthest south you can go in New Jersey. Everything after that is water.
Allie stood in front of the town's quaint WELCOME sign, frozen by the sight of it.
"You're sinking," said Mikey, who was still on the horse. Shiloh the horse, having grown accustomed to the strange texture of the living world, kept pulling its hooves out of the ground with a sucking sound, as if it were slowly prancing in place. Allie on the other hand, was already in the ground to her knees.
She reached up, and Mikey helped her out of the ground. "That's it, isn't it?" Mikey asked. "Cape May? I remember you said you lived in Cape May."
"Yes." With all their wanderings, Allie had lost her sense of direction. She had no idea they were this close to her home.
"It's what you wanted, isn't it? To go home?"
"Yes ... from the very beginning."
Mikey hopped off the horse and stood beside her. "Back on my ship, I used to watch you look out to shore. You had such a longing to go home. You don't know how close I came to taking you there, even then."
Allie smirked. "And you called yourself a monster."
Mikey was suitably insulted. "I was an excellent monster! The one true monster of Everlost!"
"'Hear your name and tremble.' "
Mikey looked away. "No one trembles anymore."
Allie was mad at herself for mocking him. He didn't deserve that. She touched his face gently. To look at him now, you'd never guess that the fair skinned, blue-eyed boy was once the terrifying McGill, but every once in a while Allie could still see a bit of the beast in him. It was there in the shortness of his temper, and the clumsiness of his hands, as if they were still claws. It was there in the way he approached the world--as if it still owed him something. Yes, the monster still lingered there inside him, but his face was that of a boy, attractive by any standards, if somewhat doleful.
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