Skinjacker 02 Everwild

by Neal Shusterman

  "Look at all of them," said Mary. "It hardly seems appropriate to call them a 'vapor of Afterlights' anymore."

  "More like an entire cloud," suggested Speedo.

  "A cumulus!" said Mary, delighted with herself. "A cumulus of Afterlights!"

  Their numbers had indeed grown. A census upon Mary's arrival revealed there to be 783 Afterlights in Chicago, including the ones she brought with her. But once word got out that Mary had settled in for an extended stay, stray Afterlights began to wander in to the Columbian Exhibition grounds--more each day. Those, plus the new arrivals waking into Everlost for the first time, brought their numbers close to a thousand now.

  Nick had stolen from her more than a thousand souls. Now she had them back, and with Pugsy gone, she didn't have to share them with anyone. This was truly a day for celebration.

  "Afterlights of Chicago," she announced to the crowd. "It is with the utmost of mixed feelings that I must announce that Pugsy Capone has chosen to leave us."

  The crowd murmured in excitement, mingled with doubt.

  "He has decided to travel, and has taken a permanent leave of absence. I'm sure you all join me in wishing him everything he deserves, wherever his journey takes him."

  It began as a smattering of applause, that grew into cheers, as the crowd realized exactly what Mary was telling them.

  "As Pugsy will not be coming back, I am pleased to accept the position as Governess of Chicago." The cheers reached a fever pitch. "Listen to them, Speedo!" Mary whispered. "Do you see how happy they are to finally be freed!"

  "Where did Pugsy go?" Speedo asked her.

  "Milos was so kind as to convince him to leave." She turned back to give Milos a much-earned smile. "It's probably best if we don't know the details, don't you agree?"

  Mary turned back to the crowd and resumed addressing them. "Since my arrival, there have been many changes here, and there will be many more to come. My goal is to bring your quality of death to the highest possible level. Many of you have found your own "special activity" to make each and every day your personal perfect day. For those of you still searching, my door is always open. I pledge to help you in every way I can."

  The crowd seemed a bit less enthusiastic at the prospect of a gloriously repetitive eternity, but that was all right. They would come to see the wisdom of Mary's way. They always did.

  Milos was called for an audience with Mary in her Promenade. He assumed it was a private audience. Milos already knew she spoke to no one else as candidly as she spoke to him. He had to believe that it meant something. That he meant something.

  He came with a chilled bottle of champagne that he found in Pugsy's wine cellar mixed in with all the bottles of root beer, and two champagne flutes. When he arrived, however, he found the audience was anything but private.

  "Milos, I'm glad you're here," Mary said, not even noticing the champagne. Speedo was there, and there was another Afterlight as well--one who Milos had never seen before. He sat in the red leather armchair--the one that used to be Pugsy's--and Mary was offering him candy from her private stash.

  "He's one of Mary's long-distance scouts," Speedo explained, "and he just got back." Apparently he was an important player in Mary's war against "the forces of dark chocolate," as she liked to call it.

  The boy then tilted his head back, opened his mouth, and closed his eyes. The others, who knew what was coming, ducked, just as the boy released an earth-shaking sneeze. Milos was the only one caught unawares, and was splattered with more unspeakable ecto-stuff than ought to be allowed in any universe.

  "I'm sorry, Milos," said Mary. "I should have warned you. But every talent comes with its own stumbling block, and the Sniffer is no exception." She turned to the boy. "You really should cover your mouth when you sneeze."

  "I know, but I always forget."

  Speedo rose from the chair he had hidden behind, and threw a rag to Milos to clean himself, but it was much too small to do the job.

  Mary was not bothered by the deluge--she would have someone clean it later. What mattered was the news the Sniffer brought back with him. And what news it was! "How marvelous! How absolutely marvelous!" she said after he told her what he had learned. It was exactly the information she needed. She now knew not only Nick's location, but the size of his vapor, and where he was going. And as for this "Ripper" he seemed to have acquired, how much damage could she do, really? The ripper was just one against a thousand.

  Mary stood up, her plan already taking shape in her mind. She would see Nick again, and she would see him soon ... but it would be on her terms.

  "Well, if the Chocolate Ogre has gone to Memphis to find Allie the Outcast, I think we should meet him there. A thousand of ours--against four hundred of his!"

  Milos just stood there, a little shell-shocked by the sudden shift of direction. It was the first time she noticed he held a bottle of ... was that champagne?

  Speedo, as always, was wary. "You had a thousand last time ... and you know what happened."

  The memory only made Mary more determined. "Last time he went behind my back. So this time, we'll sneak behind his!"

  "There's one more thing," the Sniffer said. "I smelled something ... nasty ... that was also moving toward Memphis. I'm not sure what it was, but if I didn't know better, I'd think it was the McGill."

  It caught Mary off guard. She felt her afterglow sputter liked a burner low on gas. She hoped no one saw it. "The McGill no longer exists," she proclaimed. "In fact, he never did. Speedo! Make a note that I should point out the nonexistence of the McGill in my next book."

  "Yes, Miss Mary."

  And then she turned to Milos. He still stood there dripping with the Sniffer's unpleasantness. Even so, she found she wanted to embrace him, but restrained herself. "Milos, I asked you to be patient, and now your patience will be rewarded." Then she went to her bookshelf. "We will defeat the Ogre in Memphis, and from there we will begin our crusade to unite the East and the West." Mary ran her finger over the book spines, then pulled out the heavy volume on Civil Engineering.

  Milos was amused. "Don't tell me--you wish me to build a bridge in your honor!"

  "Not exactly." She held it out to him. "I want you to study this--because in this book are the blueprints for every bridge that crosses the Mississippi River."

  "Yes, but these are all living-world bridges," Milos pointed out. "They are of no use to us."

  Mary put the book firmly into his hands. "Come now, Milos," she said with a smile that, on anyone else but Mary Hightower, might be called wicked, "I think you're much smarter than that."

  She sent Milos to clean up, and requested she meet him in the non-slimed Portside Promenade, on the opposite side of the ship, when he was done.

  Milos was still reeling from this change in circumstance. All of them leaving Chicago, a war with the Chocolate Ogre, and the possibility of Allie being brought into the mix. But then this might not be a bad thing. This battle could provide him an opportunity to make himself truly indispensable to Mary. And what if Milos could bring Allie in--even if only as a prisoner? That would certainly win him huge points.

  The Portside Promenade was a mirror image of the Starboard promenade, except that it still had the airship's original furniture. Mary told him she was planning to gut it, and turn it into a playroom for the younger children, but hadn't gotten around to it yet.

  When Milos arrived, all squeaky-clean, Mary had already opened the champagne, and poured two glasses.

  "I never usually consume spirits," Mary told him, "but I suppose we have a lot to celebrate."

  Milos hesitated. "Consume spirits?"

  "Drink alcohol," Mary explained. "What on earth did you think I meant?"

  Milos just chuckled in his own embarrassment, which seemed to please her.

  "Let's toast," she said. "What shall we toast to?"

  "To the Governess of the East, and soon to be West," suggested Milos. "The beautiful catcher of lost souls."

  Mary's thoughts see
med to darken when he said it, but she clinked glasses anyway. She took a sip, put her glass down, and strode away from him.

  "Is something wrong?"

  She paused, looking out of the window. "Saving the children of the world is not always an easy thing," she said. "But the end does justify the means, wouldn't you agree?"

  "Sometimes, yes." Milos cautiously moved closer to her.

  She still looked out of the window, a convenient way to avoid his gaze. "There's much work to do, but before we begin, there's something you need to know, and something I need to find out."

  Then she offered him a confession.

  "As much as I despise stepping out into the course of living events, there are times it must be done," she told him. "There is an appliance store not too far from here. In it are many of those television machines, and they often display the news of the day." She began to rub her arms as if she was cold. "I was there, in search of something in particular, and I found it. There was a report of a dreadful car accident-- a terrible thing. Witnesses claimed that the driver actually swerved to hit pedestrians, but the driver claims to have no memory of it whatsoever. Imagine that."

  Milos took a nervous sip of his champagne. "Strange things do happen in the living world."

  "Yes, they do," agreed Mary. "But I don't think it was an accident at all. And I don't think the driver was himself that day."

  Milos withheld his opinion. "And ... were any lives lost?"

  "What a curious expression. How can a life be lost when you know exactly where it is?" Mary said. "Two children did leave the world of the living, if that's what you mean. The news was kind enough to show their photographs, but I had already seen their faces. Jill had brought them both into the incubator earlier that day. Of course they were asleep, but I still recognized them."

  Finally she turned to him. "You knew, didn't you? Don't lie to me, Milos."

  "I am truly sorry," was all Milos dared to say.

  "Sorry that I found out, or sorry you didn't tell me that Jill's amulet was fake?"

  He looked at the bubbles in his champagne, feeling all his hope begin to extinguish. Milos had no idea what Mary would do now. Would she throw him out? Would she have both him and Jill hurled off the pier to join Pugsy? Directness and honesty, thought Milos. That's what Mary respects. And so rather than wasting his breath trying to spin things to his favor, he simply told her the truth.

  "I was afraid to tell you. I thought you might blame all skinjackers for what Jill was doing. I feared that you might send us away. That you might send me away. But I'm not like Jill... ."

  And instead of throwing him out, Mary tapped her champagne glass very gently to his and said, "Do you really think I am so shortsighted as to let you go, Milos?" He didn't think he was supposed to answer, so he didn't. "It does change things, though," she said. "Since we don't have to wait for accidents, I can increase Jill's quota."

  "Increase ... Jill's quota?" Milos was stunned.

  "The more opportunities we have to save innocent children from the living world, the better, don't you agree?"

  As Mary's words tumbled through Milos's mind, he knew there were two sides to which they could fall. The side of terror, or the side of wonder. He also instinctively knew that the choice he made now would define his entire afterlife--it was, in fact, the very focal point of his existence. Milos had always considered himself a good person at heart. Admittedly, he leaned toward serving his own best interests, but in an enlightened way--always in a way that helped others even as it helped himself.

  "Milos, are you all right? Did you hear me?"

  Terror or wonder? To which side would it fall? He still wasn't sure, yet he forced a smile, and took a step closer. "You never cease to amaze me," he said, which was true.

  "I understand that skinjackers can't skinjack forever," Mary said, "and that Jill has been skinjacking much longer than you."

  "Jill has been in Everlost for more than twenty years, I have been here for four," he told her. "I do not think she will be able to skinjack for much longer."

  She looked at him a bit differently than before, as if she were searching his eyes, and Milos held the gaze, hoping she would find whatever she was looking for. "I know you're not like Jill," she said, "but there may come a time that I will need you to do what she does... ." They were standing close now. Close enough to be deep within each other's afterglow.

  "If I asked you to, Milos, would you do it for me?"

  He knew the question was coming, but he didn't want to believe she would ask it. There was no more hiding behind a gentle gaze and inscrutable eyes. He needed to make a choice. What Mary called "saving innocent children," would be called something very different in the living world. It would be called murder. Would he do that for Mary? Should he? His own words came back to him. "You should never be afraid to tell anyone 'no'," he had once told Allie--but if he said no to Mary, he would lose everything. He would lose her. Losing Mary was not an option for Milos, and once he realized that--once he realized what he truly wanted, the choice became clear.

  "Would you do it, Milos? Would you do it if I asked?"

  He took Mary's hand, and his afterglow blushed lavender. "Yes," he told her. "I would do anything for you."

  332

  333

  PART SIX City of the Dead In her book Order First, Question Later, Mary Hightower offers us her personal insights on the art of war:

  "To bring about order in a chaotic world, one must, on occasion, resort to large-scale conflict. Weaponry and the size of one's army are certainly factors--but far more important are brains and righteous convictions. In the living world it seems right-thinking people are often trampled beneath the filthy boots of impure ideas. However, I like to believe that, at least in Everlost, good will triumph over evil."

  CHAPTER 31 On the Banks of Eternity

  The city of Memphis is gone.

  This once great river city--the very center of civilization--now lies in ruins, eternally buried by time and river silt. That is to say, the Egyptian city of Memphis, capital of ancient Egypt when that kingdom was at its height, over 3,000 years ago. The great palaces have crumbled, and the towering stone obelisks, once wonders of the upper and lower Nile, have fallen like trees, and now lay hidden beneath farmland.

  Across the Nile river from Memphis, on its western bank, was the necropolis: the city of the dead, containing the tombs and burial chambers of Egypt. It seems all cultures respect the awesome and mystical nature of a great river--how it can divide life from death, here from there, known from unknown.

  No one has ever accused Memphis, Tennessee, of being the center of civilization, although it does have its moments. It, too, lies on a great dividing river--a gateway to the West. At least it's a gateway in the living world. In Everlost, however, it is a city of relentless wind, and marks an inexplicable barrier to the West ... which makes it interesting to note that Memphis, Egypt, was also known as Ineb-hedj or "the White Wall."

  To the living world, the kingdoms of Egypt are ancient history--because in the living world, even that which is considered permanent is always proven to be temporary. To the living, eternity is a concept, not a reality--and yet they know it exists.

  The living do not see eternity, just as they don't see Everlost, but they sense both in ways that they don't even know. They don't feel the Everlost barrier set across the Mississippi River, and yet no one had ever dared to draw city boundaries that straddle both sides of its waters. The living do not see Afterlights, and yet everyone has had times when they've felt a presence near them--sometimes comforting, sometimes not--but always strong enough to make one turn around and look over one's shoulder.

  Look behind you now.

  Do you feel in your heart a slight hastening of its beat, and a powerful sense that something momentous is about to happen?

  ... Perhaps, then, this is the hour that Mary Hightower takes to the sky with a thousand Afterlights heading toward Memphis.

  ... Perhaps this is the
moment that Nick, the Chocolate Ogre, arrives in that same city in search of Allie, only to find that he has no idea where to look.

  ... Perhaps this is the very instant that a monster called the McGill arrives there as well, aching to ease his pain by sharing his misery--not only with his new minions, but with anyone he can. ... And perhaps you can sense, in some small twisting loop of your gut, the convergence of the wrong, of the right, and of the woefully misguided. If you do, then pay sharp attention to the moment you wake, and the moment you fall asleep... . For maybe then you will know, without a shadow of a doubt, which is which.

  CHAPTER 32 The Low Approach

  Nick had no idea that this day would lead him right into a vortex--and not just any vortex, but one of the most dangerous ones Everlost had to offer. All he knew was that nothing was going according to plan. The moment Nick had heard Allie was in Memphis, he was convinced that he was destined to find her. He was certain that he would arrive, and there she would be. How foolish. Did he expect her to be standing there in the middle of Beale Street waiting for him?

  He had teams search the city for days, battling that soulnumbing wind, but they didn't find a single Afterlight in Memphis, or a single clue as to Allie's whereabouts.

  A scout had returned from St. Louis, claiming the Mississippi wind was no better in that city. He spoke of rumors that Mary Hightower was farther north. Michigan, perhaps, or Illinois. Charlie, who wanted to map more of the Midwest rails, was urging him to head north, but Nick wouldn't have it. They could face Mary without Allie, but having Allie there simply felt ... right. The sum of the parts would be greater than the whole. It would make them complete. It would make him complete.

  "Allie the Outcast is here!" he told his restless troops. "I can feel it." And he could. That connection, forged the moment they were born into Everlost, told him that she was right under his nose, if only he knew where to look. "Keep searching!" he told them, sounding more like an Ogre by the minute.