by J. L. Powers
We slam into the door below. Liliana fumbles it open and we run outside. We duck into a small open space under the barn and crouch there, waiting. Listening to the other person breathe. I’m not sure exactly what we’re waiting for or how we’ll know when She leaves.
Let’s just say you think someone, or several someones, including maybe something supernatural, is trying to kill you, what makes the most amount of sense—to stay holed up in your room and never come out again or decide you’re never going back to your room?
I choose option B. I just don’t know how I’m going to accomplish it.
By the time our invisible stalker stops Her heavy breathing and sniffing around looking for us, my muscles are cramped from being in the same position too long. Liliana groans as she stretches.
“So what the hell is that?” she asks.
“I don’t know,” I say. “But She’s everywhere I go.”
“You mean She followed you here? To the school?”
I shrug, trying to remain cool, like, Oh, it’s no big deal. The effect is spoiled by the tears that spurt up in the corners of my eyes, tears that dry up almost instantly by her follow-up question.
“Who are you? What did you do?”
“I don’t know,” I say, stung into defending myself. “I also don’t know why some people in this world apparently want to kill me, but they do.”
My shoulders sag with the weight of what I just revealed. Crappity crap crap. My big freakin’ mouth.
“I just want to be safe,” I say.
Liliana shakes her head then leans over and socks me on the shoulder. Hard. “I’ve got news for you. There’s no such thing as ‘safe’ in this life. What do you think you’re going to be doing, kissing boo-boos and wiping runny noses? This is a hardscrabble, hooch-drinking, bootlegging type of life. Got it?”
“Does this mean I can’t camp out with you in the boathouse?” I ask.
We hear voices from the main room downstairs and then somebody comes out onto the porch in the darkness and lights a pipe.
She pushes me toward the barn door and hisses, “Get out of here and don’t tell anybody you saw me or you’ll regret it. Believe me.”
I do believe her. “Will I see you again?”
She crosses her eyes, which is totally . . . adorable. “Yeah. I’ve got my eye on you.”
I watch as she disappears around the corner of the barn, and I feel lost and alone and . . . lonely.
And I still don’t want to go back to my room. I sniff my pits. Uck. Nope, don’t want to go back. Not even to take a shower.
But of course I do. Because nothing seems as scary during the light of day as it does at night, and also because I’m already That Kid—the one who doesn’t know anything—and I can’t be That Kid Who Stinks Because He Doesn’t Shower, too.
CHAPTER 20
The soul already resides in Limbo, though it can be difficult for the spirit to untangle itself from life to see the world around the soul. To reach Limbo, soul guides must pull their consciousness there . . . When directing a soul through Limbo, soul guides must help construct a world that the soul’s spirit understands.
—From The World of Limbo
I wish I knew exactly why Zachary keeps hanging around us. He doesn’t need a refresher, that’s for sure. It feels like he’s spying, not that there’s much to spy on.
This morning he greets me with a cheery, “You look like death warmed over, pretty boy. Having trouble sleeping?”
Okay, yeah, I’m back to not sleeping.
Rachel and I are sitting on a porch swing, trying to get through a few more books by the end of the week, while Zachary is attempting to balance on the fence that surrounds the farm. The air borders on frigid, but it’s nice to be outside anyway.
“Looks like you’re working real hard, training to be the best soul guide you can be,” Rachel calls out. “It’s giving me a whole new understanding of the phrase ‘dead beat.’”
He jumps off the fence and wanders up to the porch, squatting down in front of us and chewing on a blade of dried grass. He grins at Rachel. “You have a lot of sass. I like that in a woman.”
“Are you leering at me?” Rachel replies. “Because if you think for even a minute that I’d—”
“Oh, keep your panties on,” Zachary interrupts. “I was just appreciating your style. So . . . who’s in?”
“Who’s in for what?” Rachel’s mouth is puckered.
He sighs loudly. “Going to Limbo. Bet you Adam’s too chicken.”
He’s right. Little chicken feathers sprout all over my back and arms. I rub my arms to get rid of the feeling.
“I didn’t even know Limbo existed until a couple months ago,” Rachel says, “much less how to get there.”
“It’s a cinch,” he says. “We can go and be back in less than ten minutes. That is, if you’re not too afraid.”
“Have you ever been there?” I ask.
“A few times,” he says nonchalantly.
“What’s it like?” Rachel asks.
“It’s different for everybody.”
“If we all go, whose version of Limbo will we be in?” I ask.
“Mine, of course,” Zachary says, his shadow gliding around us like an ice skater sailing across ice, smooth and confident. “Look, you guys have never been to Limbo and my version is already quite strong for my age. Only someone with a much more developed Limbo could override mine.” He snickers. “I gave one of the teachers quite a surprise a few weeks ago when they took me to Limbo, expecting their comfortable snoozer of a Limbo, and we ended up in mine.”
“What’s your version of Limbo like?” Rachel asks.
“It’s a rush. A carnival ride of happiness! It’s impossible not to love my Limbo! If you like, once we’ve reached it, I can help you start creating your own version. C’mon! It’ll be fun.”
Rachel shakes her head. “No thanks. You’re asking for trouble.”
Zachary makes a face at her. “Well, party poopers can just stay here. How’s that sound?”
“Fine, count me out,” Rachel says.
“And how about you, chicken boy?” Zachary tucks his hands in his armpits and flaps his arms like chicken wings, elbowing me at the same time.
“OW, get your elbow out of my ribs.”
“Bawk, bawk, you little chicken,” he says.
“Did your mom drop you on your head too many times when you were little?” Rachel snaps.
Zachary puts one hand around her wrist. She shakes him off immediately. “You’re cute when you’re trying to protect your little friend,” he says.
Somehow I know the gauntlet has just been thrown down. Even dancing around like a scared little chicken, Zachary’s looking me straight in the eye. This is a challenge. Something more than double-dare. A game of chicken, ha. Zachary wants me to back out and lose face . . . or, better yet, accept the challenge and get humiliated.
The void of my dreams stretches out below me to infinity
. . . And there She looms, winking ghoulishly at me. No. He can bluster all he wants. I am too chicken to find myself in the nightmare with Zachary.
“Look, Zach, you’re right. We would have a blast in your world but it seems a little dangerous to me.”
His lips twitch. “I’ve heard a rumor you think you’re pretty hot stuff. Even, maybe, some sort of savant when it comes to soul work. But what I’ve heard is you’re more like one of those idiot savants. I may have to hang around you newbies but I’ve got skills too.” His shadow spits venom at us.
I glare at him.
“You’re just a scaredy-cat who acts tough around the teachers. I know the real guy. The Adam who can’t even pee without someone helping him unzip.”
And there it is. I could ignore the verbal abuse. But Zachary is summoning up my soul. Or trying. He has some pull but he’s completely weak compared to my dad.
I look at him with contempt. Blood finally boiling. Who does Zachary Angel think he is?
I lash o
ut, vice-grip claws clutching at Zachary’s soul, pulling it up to look at it, to gaze at his tiny, tiny black soul. Everything he is, laid out before me, a small nugget burnt at the edges: the fear, hurt, and anger he’s feeling because I took his place as the gifted student.
He’s in way over his head. I should stop, but I’m too mad. I reach out to grab that nugget, to twist it around and expose it. Make him pay.
I grab but something’s not right. Shit! I’ve made the same mistake Principal Armand made with me and I’ve fallen into Zachary’s trap. He has me in his grip and it’s unbreakable . . .
Everything goes black. For a split second, I hear the sound of the ocean and catch a glimpse of swirling neon lights. Then it is all sucked away into the hole I know I’m going to fall into forever.
Everything plummets away.
My heart speeds up and drops. Panic slams into me.
I’m floundering through pitch blackness. No stars, no light, just a black hole. Falling and falling.
Yup. This is my Limbo. And apparently, Zachary’s version of Limbo is not stronger than mine, whatever he wants to think.
And then I feel it. Something cold and wet slithering past.
She’s here.
She squirms close, lips pulled up in a grin, eyes closed. Not too old, not too young. The irises ignite in blue flame. She has the soul of a human—a female—but the body is dark leathery wings and long skeletal limbs and blue, blue flame.
I sense another presence, a small light, but it’s weak and frail and every time it tries to get close, my soul grabs but She’s faster and reaches it with sickening speed. Her talons prick the small light. It sputters in the sickening darkness. Zachary. I need to get him out of here before She kills him.
I leap in front of Zachary’s light.
Her spiked tail snakes up from behind and whacks me. Blood spurts from the wound She gashes in my back.
She bites and tears at me with bony fingers.
I punch and flail. She wraps her tail around me and pins my arms to my side, facing me, mouth opening, opening, a gray vacuum sucking me toward her.
I don’t want to die.
She whips her tail around me like a rope. Three times. Four times.
God, I don’t want to die.
Please don’t let me die.
Please.
Silence. Darkness.
Part of me wants to let go. Relieve myself of the crushing fear. The other half is too afraid for what will come. After.
God. Please.
I think I’m praying.
Please.
I want to live.
Then I feel a light. A strong light. Warm on my skin, like a small ray of sunlight or an extra-hot lightbulb.
“Dad?” I say into the darkness.
I thrash as the beast flinches and recoils away from the light.
A second light floats toward me. Something grabs my legs, even as the beast screams and squeezes me tighter, clutching me to its slimy chest.
I choke and gasp as the world closes to a small pinpoint of light and then even that is snuffed out.
I wake.
Still falling and falling, but the lights are with me this time.
* * *
My head hurts so bad. My arms and legs tingle. My body feels bruised, like somebody used me as a punching bag but somehow left no marks, and my clothes drip and ooze with slime or maybe, yuck, saliva.
Somebody hovers nearby. I open my eyes, expecting to see Dad.
“Can you move?” It’s Aileen. She’s leaning over me but doesn’t touch me. Jacob is standing just behind her, his campy grin replaced by a grim smile.
I sit up slowly, realizing I’m on the porch near the swing, only somehow it’s been ripped off its hinges. Deep gouges mar the blood-smeared wall. Zachary is sitting a few feet away, face in his hands. When he looks up, he’s so pale, I’m worried he’s going to faint. Rachel’s beside him, her mouth open.
“Are you okay?” I ask first because I want to make sure She hasn’t hurt him.
Zachary looks contrite but his shadow contorts into something resembling half fear, half sneer.
That’s it for me. “You asshole!” I shout, wincing at the pain. “You did this to me,” I add in a quieter tone.
Aileen touches my forehead. “You’re burning up, Adam. You need to go to bed.”
“No!” I try to shout, but my head hurts so much, it comes out as a loud groan. I don’t want to go to my room, I try to avoid that place as much as possible, but of course they don’t know that. “I want to know what happened to me. Did I make it to Limbo?”
“You made it to Limbo all right.” She looks sympathetic. “But you’ve been there before. Did you ever have a near-death experience?”
“Not that I know of,” I fib, thinking of all those nights when I wake up in the cemetery. “Okay, maybe,” I say. My voice sounds faint and far away.
“Dude, I thought we were going to lose you.” Zachary’s face sags. “I thought you were going to die in there.”
“Was that your plan?” I ask. “To get me to Limbo and try to kill me?” I wonder what happens if you die in Limbo. It can’t be a good thing.
“No, man, I—” He swallows whatever he was going to say. But then his shadow giggles at me, nervous or maybe just bold, I’m not sure.
Aileen and Jacob don’t seem to notice, probably because they’re staring at me so intently.
I glare at him. “How did you guys get here?” I ask them.
“I fetched them,” Rachel says.
“If she hadn’t come to get us, one or both of you might not have made it out of there alive,” Aileen says.
“You have a very strong Limbo, Adam,” Jacob says. “When you go there, you’re somehow attached to a demon or a fairy of some kind. Maybe a ghost?”
“I’ve heard of this,” Aileen says. “But I’ve never seen it. What happened to you hasn’t happened in generations. No wonder your dad didn’t want you to go to school. He must know about this.”
Zachary perks up a little at the mention of my dad, though maybe I’m imagining things because all he says is, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I dragged you there.” He looks at Jacob and Aileen and swallows. “I really mean it. I had no idea.”
“We should probably tell Principal Armand about this,” Aileen says slowly. She doesn’t look thrilled at the prospect.
“Do it,” I say. Little angry ghosts squeeze their way through the spaces between my clenched teeth. “Make sure Principal Armand throws the book at him.”
“Dude,” Zachary says. “I’m sorry. I’m . . .”
I don’t want to hear it. I turn away.
Aileen and Jacob glance at each other.
Zachary looks crestfallen. “It’s okay. You should tell him. I deserve to be expelled for this.” But even as he says this, his shadow creeps over and peeks at me from behind him, grinning and winking at me. You have got to be kidding me. Doesn’t anybody else notice this?
One look at the rest of them and I can tell the answer is no.
Jacob clears his throat. “Adam, it may not be in your best interests for Principal Armand to know about this. Zachary’s not the only one who will get in trouble. And you’re already on his bad side.”
“But I will talk to your dad, Adam,” Aileen says. Her eyes are sad. “He needs to know this happened.”
“I’m not going to lie to you, Adam,” Jacob says. “I’m not sure you should ever go to Limbo again.”
“Why not?” I have to clear my throat to get the words out.
“Every time you go, Adam, it will get worse,” Aileen says. “Unless you can conquer the bond you have with that demon. Your experience of Limbo is so strong, I don’t know if you’ll be able to overcome it to see Limbo from another soul’s perspective. That’s essential, if you’re going to be a soul guide. And besides, you could get killed in there. That demon is looking for you.”
For a moment, I feel relieved. Never returning to Limbo means never having to face H
er again. But the relief is quickly followed by a crushing disappointment. Something about being here—in this school, with these people—feels right. I have never felt like I belonged somewhere more than I do here.
And besides, I have been to other people’s Limbo. I went to Principal Armand’s Limbo. I’ve been to Liliana’s. Maybe to my mother’s, if she’s the woman in the yellow dress on the endless train. I’m pretty sure I started to go to Zachary’s Limbo before I got sucked back into the darkness of my own.
If I can help people make it across Limbo safely, in a way that they don’t have to experience something like that . . . that Thing that I have to face when I go to Limbo . . .
We lose so much when we die. To have all of that taken away, like my mother was removed from me, and have no one to help us to the next life?
I stare at the Broken Circle symbols tattooed on Jacob’s hand. That’s how you get people out of Limbo—you break the circle and let them drift out, out, out to the next world or whatever is beyond. We need help to do this. We can try to do it on our own but we’re helpless. I want to be the help.
And maybe people don’t really have to die. If I can be a soul guide, maybe I can bring those people back. Maybe I can help people live. Maybe . . . maybe I can bring my mother back.
Staring at that symbol, I realize that, even though Aileen and Jacob have just told me that I might not be able to be a soul guide, it’s what I want more than anything in my life.
Chapter 20.5
And so the two lovers were ecstatic with their new life together. And they had big plans for uniting the warring clans of the new world, who were kept from civil war by only the thinnest of agreements made after our country’s Great War, the war between the States. They wanted to see the fragile agreement transformed into a true democracy. Oh, those two, they had plans.
But the plans were interrupted.
Never have you seen a more besotted pair than those parents with their child. He was not a beautiful child. He had his father’s big ears and grim smile (ironic, since his father was a Mors and not a Reaper at all), but the Mors have never been known for their looks. The boy had the same thin, skeletal body, and pale, pasty skin. Nothing like the beautiful mother with her lusty complexion, her head of rich red hair—