Skinjacker 02 Everwild

by Neal Shusterman

  "I like you much better this way."

  "Why should I care?" But he smiled, because he did care and they both knew it.

  "You must teach me to be human again," he had told her, when he first lost his monstrous form. Since then, she had done everything in her power to do so. It was in small moments like these that she caught glimpses of his successful steps back from being a monster. How long ago had that been? As is the way in Everlost, the days had blended until there was no telling. Weeks? Months? Years? Certainly not years! "So," he asked, "does bringing you home make me more human?"

  "Yes, it does."

  Even his selflessness was wrapped in self-interest. It would have bothered her, but she knew that he would have done this for her anyway, even if it had no benefit for him. It made him different from his sister, for while Mary pretended to serve others, deep down she was serving no one but herself.

  "Just remember--I can't help you if you sink," Mikey said. "You know how it is when you go home--you'll be sinking too fast for me to ever catch you."

  "I know." She was well aware of the dangers of going home--not just because of Mary's Everlost-for-idiots warnings, but because of Mikey's firsthand account.

  Home, he had told her, had a certain gravity to an Afterlight. The ground becomes more and more like quicksand the closer to home one gets. Mikey had told Allie how he and his sister had gone home more than a hundred years ago, shortly after they died. The moment he saw how life had gone on without them, Mikey sunk into the ground in a matter of seconds. Mary had been lucky--somehow she had avoided his fate. She never had to endure that long, slow journey down to the center of the earth.

  Mikey, however, had discovered a skill--perhaps the rarest of all Everlost skills. His will was so great that he could force change upon himself--his hands turned to claws, tugging at the earth around him. His memory of flesh was replaced by a full body scar, thick as leather and as pocked as the surface of the moon. He made himself a monster, and as a monster he could rise, fighting the relentless pull of gravity year after year, until the day he broke surface.

  But that was all over now. He was Mikey again, and he was slowly growing used to his old self, just as Allie was growing accustomed to Everlost.

  Yet through all of their travels, in the back of her mind, Allie knew she had business left undone. Going home had been so important to her when she had first arrived here. But somewhere along the line, it became something best saved for tomorrow, and then the tomorrow after that--but unlike other Afterlights, she did not forget her life on Earth. She did not forget her family, she did not forget her name.

  She didn't know why she should be different from others. Not even Mary wrote about such things in her books of questionable information. But then, Allie had powers that other Afterlights didn't possess. Why she and no one else should have these powers was a mystery to her as well. Allie could skinjack. The living might call it "possession," but she much preferred the Everlost term--for she was not a demon taking control of a human being for evil purposes. She merely "borrowed" people, wearing their bodies for a short time--and only when absolutely necessary.

  They made their way down the quaint main street of Cape May. The living went about their blurred, muffled business. Cars passed through Allie and Mikey, but they had grown accustomed to the flow of the living world through and around them so they barely noticed it anymore. Not even their horse did.

  "Turn left here," Allie told Mikey at the next corner, and as they turned onto the street where she once lived, a sense of dread began to fill that place that ought to be filled with great joy and anticipation... .

  ... For what if her father hadn't survived the crash after all?

  What if he went down that tunnel into the light in that terrible head-on collision, leaving her mother and sister to mourn for both of them?

  "Are you okay?" Mikey knew something was wrong. Perhaps it was the way she sat so stiffly on the horse behind him, or perhaps their spirits had become so in tune, he could sense the things she felt.

  "I'm fine."

  She also had another reason for her reluctance, and her mind was drawn to her coin. It had been cold in her hand, which meant she was not ready to leave Everlost. She was not ready to move on. Now, as she thought about it, she realized why. She would never be ready for that final journey until she went home, and saw the truth with her own eyes. Her whole Everlost existence had been leading to this--and yet she had stalled for as long as she could.

  Because going home meant completion.

  Once she learned what had become of her parents, there would be nothing holding her to Everlost. Her coin would grow warm, and although she could resist it at first, she knew she wouldn't be able to resist it for long. She would hold it in her hand, she would make the journey.

  And she would lose Mikey.

  For this reason, her return to Cape May was both something she longed for, and something she dreaded--but she would not share such private feelings with Mikey. When they stood on her street, a pang came to her chest. She knew she shouldn't be able to feel pain, but sometimes emotions could coalesce into phantom aches when they were strong enough.

  "There it is," she said. "The third house on the right."

  Home. Even in the faded tones of Everlost, it looked just the same as she remembered. An unassuming Victorian house, white with blue trim. Her parents had moved to Cape May to capture some rustic charm in a modern world, so they bought an old house with plumbing that rattled, and thin wiring that could never quite grasp the concept of computers and high-voltage appliances. Circuit breakers were constantly popping, and Allie had complained endlessly about it when she was alive. Now she longed for the simple act of turning on a hair drier and plunging the house into darkness.

  "Wait here," she told Mikey. "I need to do this alone."

  "Fair enough."

  She hopped down from the horse, already feeling an uncertainty in the ground beneath her. It felt less like tar, and more like Jell-O just before it sets. She had to move fast.

  "Good luck," Mikey said.

  She crossed the street toward her home, not looking back at Mikey for fear that she might change her mind-- but rushing headlong to her front door was not wise either. With the threat of sinking so very real, she needed someone who could carry her home safely.

  Someone like the UPS man.

  The brown truck turned onto the street, and stopped at a neighbor's house. The deliveryman pulled a package from the back of the truck, and carried it toward the neighbor's front door. Allie followed him, preparing to make her move before he rang the neighbor's bell.

  Skinjacking was not a pleasant sensation. It was like diving into water that was too cold, or stepping into a tub that was too hot. Even though Allie had gotten much better at it, the sudden sensation of flesh, and all that went with it, was always a shock. She took a moment to brace herself, then she stepped inside the UPS man--

  --Three more hours--I should just quit--I can't quit but I wish I could--three more hours--can't quit--wife would be furious--but there's got to be more work out there--I never should have taken this job--three more hours to go--

  The chill of the air, the pumping of a heart, the sudden brightness--solidness--of the living world around her. She was in! The volume of his thoughts was painful--like they were being blasted through a megaphone.

  --Three more hours--but wait--wait--I don't feel right-- what's this? Who--huh--what--?

  Allie quickly clamped her spirit down, taking control of his flesh, and at the same instant she forced his unsuspecting consciousness deep down into the limbic system--that primordial part of the human brain where consciousness retreated during the deepest of sleeps. It was easy to put him to sleep; he wasn't all that conscious to begin with.

  She turned back to Mikey, but he was invisible now, as she knew he would be. She was seeing through living eyes now, seeing only the things that living eyes could see. As long as she stayed inside the delivery man, Everlost would be hidd
en from her. Once the initial shock of the skinjack had faded, she took a moment to enjoy it, luxuriating in the warmth of the sun on this warm June day. Even the heaviness of the package in her arms was a fine thing; yet another memory of the wonderful limitations of being alive.

  She lingered at the neighbor's door a moment more, then left, taking the package with her to the front door of her own home. Then she stood at her own front door, frozen, just as she had been frozen at the city sign. This was the moment she had waited for. All she had to do was ring the bell. All she had to do was lift her finger--his finger--and do it. Never had a living hand felt so heavy.

  Then, to her surprise, the door opened without her ever ringing the bell.

  "Hi, is that package for us?"

  The woman who opened the door was not her mother. She was a total stranger. She was in her twenties, and had a baby on her hip, who was very excited by the prospect of a large box.

  "Just bring it in, and put it by the stairs," the woman said. "Do I have to sign for it?"

  "Uh ... uh ... It's not for you." Allie cleared her throat, startled by the way she sounded. She could never get used to the masculine timbre of her voice when she cross-jacked. It was one of several troubling things that came with being temporarily male.

  "Well, if it's not for us, then who is it for?"

  "The Johnson family."

  "Who?" she asked, then realized. "Oh, right. We got things for them every once in a while, once the forwarding order expired."

  They had moved--but that could just be her mother and sister, who weren't in the car. She still had no way of knowing if her father had survived.

  "Any idea where they went?"

  "No," the woman said.

  "Wasn't there an accident?" Allie asked. "I heard about it--they lost a daughter."

  "I wouldn't know about that. Sorry."

  And then Allie asked the big question. "How long have you been living here?"

  "Almost three years now."

  Allie closed her eyes, and tried to take that in. She had been in Everlost for three years. Unchanged, never aging. Still fourteen. How could so much time have passed?

  "Wait a second," the woman said. "Of course, I can't be sure, but I seem to recall something about Memphis. I think that's where they went."

  It made sense--her mother had family there ... but did that mean her father had died in the crash, and her mother had sold the house? There were so many questions still unanswered.

  The woman shifted the baby to her other hip, getting impatient. "The neighbors might know more, but then a lot of them are just summer renters."

  "Thank you. Sorry to have bothered you."

  Then the woman closed the door, to the protests of the baby, who began to wail over the fact that the box was not for him. Allie went to other homes on the street, but few neighbors were home, and the ones who did come to the door were clueless.

  Allie returned to the UPS truck, took one last breath of the flavorful June air, then pulled herself out of the delivery man. Ending a skinjacking was as unpleasant as beginning one, and sometimes a fleshie who fit too well was hard to escape from--especially when she'd stayed inside for a while. Fortunately the UPS man was not one of those. She was able to extricate herself without too much effort, peeling him off like a loose-fitting robe. She suffered a moment of vertigo, and the instinctive panic of spirit separating from flesh. She endured the transition, and when she opened her eyes, the living world had faded to blurred, washed-out hues. She was back in Everlost. Beside her, the deliveryman stumbled for a moment, quickly shook off his confusion, and went to deliver his package to the proper house, never knowing that he had been skinjacked.

  "What happened?" Mikey asked, coming up to her. "Were they there? Did you talk to them?"

  "They moved to Memphis," she told him, still a bit dazed by it all.

  Mikey sighed. "So ... I suppose that means we're going to Tennessee."

  She offered him an apologetic grin that wasn't all that apologetic. It was disheartening to know that her home was no longer hers, and troubling to have so far to go until she could find out the truth. Yet there was relief in it as well ... because Memphis was far, far away, and that meant she wouldn't be losing Mikey so quickly! Looking at him now, he seemed taller. Majestic. There was a reason for that.

  "You're sinking," Mikey said.

  Laughing, Allie reached out to him. He took her hand gently but firmly, and eased her out of the ground.

  They left, but as they did, Allie couldn't help but look back toward the deliveryman, who was now heading back to his truck. She couldn't deny how much she enjoyed the lingering sensation of flesh. Each time she skinjacked, it felt more and more seductive. In her book Caution, This Means You, Mary Hightower has this to say about the Everwild:

  "Finders who survive excursions into the untamed corners of Everlost tell stories of things strange, mystical, and dangerous. Whether or not these stories of the Everwild are true do not matter to the sensible Afterlight, for all sensible Afterlights know that it's best to leave the wild wild, and the Unknown unknown. Venturing beyond one's personal zone of safety is always ill-advised, and can only end in profound unpleasantness."

  It is important to note that Mary wrote this before she, herself, took to the skies.

  CHAPTER 5 Southern Discomfort

  Nick had never seen a city with so many deadspots. They were so numerous that they could hardly be called deadspots at all. The city of Atlanta belonged as much to Everlost as it did to the living world. The streets were part cobblestone, part asphalt, part dirt. The night was lit by just as many gas lamps as modern street-lights. Buildings from multiple time periods seemed to occupy the same space, fighting to claim "dominant reality." It made it very clear to Nick that as much as he thought he knew and understood Everlost, he barely knew anything at all.

  Their train slowly, cautiously rolled forward on tracks that once carried the Civil War dead. Then, as the train neared the center of Atlanta, the living world road began to fill the train like an asphalt river.

  "We're sinking!" shouted Johnnie-O. "We're sinking into the earth! Stop the train!"

  "I don't think that's it," said Charlie. "It's more like the street's rising. We're still riding on tracks."

  "I have a feeling we're in for a few more surprises," said Nick. * * *

  Long ago, when the battle between locomotive and automobile came to Atlanta, the city was caught in a dilemma. Atlanta, being the chief railroad city of the south, had so many trains, there was simply no room for cars. Then the city planners had a brilliant idea. The words "brilliant" and "city planning" usually don't go together. However, in this instance, the solution was not only brilliant, it was elegant.

  Why not build roads above the train tracks?

  And so by building automobile viaducts above the central railroad gulch, the city of Atlanta was effectively raised almost twenty feet. The first floor of every building was now underground--and second floors became the new ground floors. Then, as cars took over, and rail lines closed down, those old subterranean storefronts were forgotten. Thus was born underground Atlanta--and although modern business interests have turned parts of it into a mall, the real Atlanta underground belongs to Everlost.

  The train rolled down the underground street in near darkness, but then the faint, pale blue glow of Afterlights began to fill the street around them. Afterlights were quite literally coming out of the woodwork--not dozens, but hundreds, and, like the buildings around them, these kids were from every era in history. Some held bricks, others metal pipes or bats--but one thing was clear--every single one of them was armed and prepared for a fight.

  "Sticks and stones can't break my bones," said Johnnie-O, reciting the familiar Everlost rhyme.

  "But names can always hurt me," finished Nick. True enough, because an Everlost name can define you, and not always for the better. "It's not the sticks and stones I'm worried about," Nick said. "It's that look in their eyes."

 
Nick could see the intensity of their stares. It was a look that spoke of first strikes against intruders. These kids had a communal instinct for self-preservation that left no room for compassion.

  "If they want a fight, they'll get one," said Johnnie-O.

  Charlie looked at him, worried, and Nick gripped Charlie's shoulder to ease his mind, leaving behind a brown handprint. Johnnie-O might think with his fists, but Nick knew better than to provoke a fight here. More and more kids flooded the street around them. Then, when it seemed that every Afterlight in Atlanta had come out of hiding, Nick said, "Stop the train."

  Charlie turned to him, and Nick swore that his afterglow grew a little pale. "You're kidding, right?"

  "Dead serious."

  Charlie gripped the brake lever, but made no move to stop the train, for his fear would not allow it. "But look-- they're keeping out of our way. If we just keep moving, we'll make it through, doncha think?"

  "Who says I want to make it through?"

  Charlie shook his head, as if trying to shake off the thought. "You can't be thinking of giving them all coins! There's not enough in the world!"

  But that wasn't true; the bucket was never empty. Still, it wouldn't be a good idea to start making kids disappear. The mob would get confused and frightened. The mob would attack. Nick, however, had another reason for making a pit stop here. "Trust me," Nick said, although he wasn't really sure he trusted himself. Still, Charlie sighed and pulled on the brake. The steam engine came to a wheezing, shuddering halt.

  "Now what?" asked Johnnie-O.

  Nick reached for the door. "I'll be right back."

  Johnnie-O stepped in front of him. "I'm going with you."

  "No ... . Your hands might scare them."

  Johnnie-O smirked. "And your face won't?"

  He had a point. "Okay," said Nick, "but you've got to lose that scowl. I want you to smile like an idiot. Can you do that?"

  Johnnie-O took a deep breath and smiled like the best of idiots. He did it so well, it was scary. Probably scary enough for the kids outside to throw bricks. So Nick pulled Johnnie-O aside and whispered to him. "Actually, I'm more worried about Charlie panicking. It might be a good idea to keep an eye on him."