The Black

by D. J. MacHale

  "I absolutely mean it," he said quickly. "Come here." Gramps rocked to his feet and walked to the end of the porch, where he pointed to Maggie's house.

  "See them jokers?" he asked.

  Two people in black were standing by the split rail fence, looking our way.

  "Maggie calls them Watchers," I said.

  "I don't know what they're called but they are definitely watching. Everything. Everybody. Those spirits hold your future in their hands. Mine too. And the future of that Damon character and every other soul in the Black. You don't want to do anything to make them question you."

  "But how can protecting a friend be wrong?"

  "Because it's meddling with the Light!" Gramps shouted so sharply, it made me jump. Gramps had never raised his voice to me, even when I was being a jerk.

  "What happens back there isn't our concern," he added. "Not anymore. You can go back and watch things if you're feeling lonely, but that's it. Let me say that again, Cooper. That's it! We all had our time there and now it's done. If you try to influence things, they'll see what you're doing and you'll be stuck in the Black for a good long time. Or worse."

  "There's something worse?"

  Gramps took a tired breath and walked back to the rocker. He seemed like a very old man. Older than I remembered him to be. He sat down but I leaned on the rail. I was too wired to sit.

  "We're all on the Morpheus Road, Cooper. We all make the journey. It begins in the Light, with life, then moves straight on through the Black. What you do here determines your next stop."

  "Yeah, you said that. Next stop is heaven, or whatever the next best place is."

  "That's one route," Gramps said gravely. "There's another. There's no time limit on getting through the Black, so long as you keep moving along the right way. Or try to, anyway. Not all spirits try. Or care."

  "What happens to them?"

  "There's another destination. If you call one way heaven, I guess you'd call the other way hell. It's as good a name as any. I've heard it called something else."

  "What's that?"

  Gramps fixed his eyes on me and said, "The Blood." It didn't sound like a place you'd want to visit.

  "It's the last stop for the lost souls. The irredeemable. Those spirits watching us? They're the judges. They don't interfere, they don't offer advice or guidance. They just watch . . . and decide. The future of every last soul in the Black is in their hands. It's always been that way. Do not give them reason to decide you're better suited for the Blood."

  "So, what are you saying? I'm supposed to let Damon hurt Marsh?"

  "If that's what he wants to do, yes," Gramps snapped. "That's his business, not yours."

  "But that's just wrong."

  He leaned forward and looked me square in the eyes. "Look, Cooper, I believe everything you told me. There's been trouble brewing here since before you arrived. Most everybody's felt it. It's like things are a bit . . . off, though nobody has any idea what it might be. I never heard of this Damon character but from what you say it sounds like he's been interfering with the Light in ways nobody else can. Maybe he's the one that's causing the tension."

  "So why hasn't he been sent to the Blood?"

  "No idea. He told you something was keeping him here in the Black? Maybe that's true and he can't go anywhere . . . good or bad."

  "So how does he have so much power in the Light? I mean, Maggie moved some little things around but he was able to—"

  Gramps jumped to his feet. "She what?"

  Uh-oh. His face got so red, I'd say he was in danger of a heart attack . . . if he hadn't already had one that killed him.

  "It was no big deal," I said quickly. "I just wanted to let Marsh know he wasn't alone."

  "But he is alone! Haven't you been listening? You can't do anything to help him."

  "You're wrong, Gramps. I think I can."

  "But you shouldn't! If you start monkeying with the living and those Watchers catch wind of it, the fix you're in now will seem like a picnic."

  "So what's my other choice? Help Damon? What happens then? I've seen what he can do, Gramps. If getting that poleax thing is going to give him even more power, blowing some air around in the Light is going to seem like a joke compared to what he might do. You think those Watchers will cut me slack for not warning Marsh, while I helped a devil wreak havoc? That doesn't make sense."

  "You've got another choice," Gramps said calmly.

  "Tell me. Please."

  "Don't do anything."

  "And what happens when Damon comes after me?"

  "He can't if you don't want him to. We have control over our visions. You can decide who comes into yours and who doesn't. If you don't want Damon to bother you, he won't. He can't. It's just that simple. Keep your head down, mind your own business, and you'll be safe."

  "But Marsh won't be," I argued.

  "Forget Marsh!" Gramps yelled. "I'm sorry, Cooper. I liked that kid too, but there's nothing you can do. And that's not your fault. I lived to a ripe old age because I didn't go sticking my nose into business that didn't concern me. I always took care of number one, and that's what you should do too."

  I thought hard about what Gramps had said. The idea that I could block out Damon and not deal with him was definitely tempting.

  "I hear you, Gramps," I said. "And I know you're trying to help me, but maybe your decision to only look out for number one wasn't so smart."

  He shot me a surprised look. "And how's that?"

  "Maybe it's the reason you're still stuck in the Black."

  I couldn't believe I actually said that to my grandfather, but it was how I felt. Gramps stiffened, ready to argue. He opened his mouth to fire something back at me, but nothing came out.

  "I'm sorry," I said.

  "I love you, Cooper. I hate that you're going through this. Heck, I hate that you're here at all. But it is what it is. You're a smart kid. I know you'll do the right thing."

  "I'm not as smart as you think."

  "Go home, Cooper. Think about what I said."

  "Home? What home?"

  "To your vision in the Black. You can go to your house in Stony Brook. I'll come check up on you from time to time, and I'm here if you need me."

  I nodded and turned to head off the porch.

  I saw that Maggie had come out of her house and was standing on her porch, watching us. Gramps joined me and put a hand on my shoulder.

  "You have to understand," he said. "Everybody here is out for themselves. Not just that Damon fella. Everybody needs fixing and the kind of person they are determines what they're willing to do to get out of here."

  I looked to Maggie. "Even her?"

  "Yes, even her," Gramps said. "Maybe more so than most. You'd be smart to avoid that one."

  "Why? She's just a scared girl."

  "True," Gramps said with a sigh. "But that scared little girl has been here for quite some time."

  "Do you know why?"

  "I do," Gramps answered, and fell silent.

  I waited for him to continue, but he didn't.

  "Well, are you going to tell me?" I asked impatiently. "Not if you're giving me a choice."

  "I'm not. Why has she been here so long?"

  Gramps hesitated and then said, "They say she killed her parents, Coop."

  I felt as if the porch had moved under my feet. That's how jarring the news was. I looked to Maggie, who must have sensed that something was wrong because she hurried back into her house.

  Gramps added, "You'd think she'd have gone straight to the Blood, but she's been here for at least as long as I have."

  "I . . . I'm going to go," I said.

  I gave Gramps a quick hug and stepped off the porch. "I miss you, Coop. Don't be a stranger."

  The colorful mist appeared in front of me and I stepped into it. But I didn't go to my home in the Black. I couldn't imagine going there. What would I do in an empty house? Being there without my parents would be wrong, no matter how familiar it was. I couldn't
even imagine being there with out Sydney the Sinister. No, I needed to be somewhere sane. I needed to go to my real home.

  I stepped out of the cloud and walked into my backyard in the Light . . . just in time to hear a familiar sound. "Let him go!"

  It was Sydney. Inside the house. Yelling. As usual. I was home.

  But this sounded more serious.

  "You want to mess with me?" I heard a guy shout from inside. Angrily.

  This was definitely more serious than usual. A second later the back door flew open and Marsh came flying out. He stumbled down the stairs and landed in the grass. Behind him was Mikey Russo, Sydney's idiot boyfriend.

  This was bad news. Did Marsh confront Mikey about the fake tickets? I ran up and got in Mikey's face.

  "Stop right there," I warned.

  He walked right through me. Literally. Like I wasn't there. Or a ghost.

  Sydney burst out of the door.

  "Mikey, stop!" she yelled.

  He ignored her and stalked down the stairs toward Marsh. I'd seen guys worked up like this before. He was going to hurt my friend. Marsh lay on the ground, looking up, helpless. I hoped that he'd at least jump up and throw a punch, but there was no chance of that. I forced myself to watch. Marsh deserved that much.

  But Mikey stopped. His body tensed as he looked past Marsh into our backyard. Something had caught his eye.

  I looked to see three huge dogs standing on the edge of the property. I couldn't even say what breed. Rottweilers? Dobermans? Whatever they were they were breathing hard with open mouths showing very large teeth. They were on edge, ready to pounce.

  Mikey looked at them, then back to Marsh, who cautiously stood up. Mikey took one step toward Marsh . . . and the dogs charged.

  "Hey, hey, no!" Mikey mumbled as he backed away from Marsh. "Sydney!"

  Sydney stood at the top of the stairs looking confused. "What is your problem?" she called to him.

  She couldn't see the dogs. Marsh couldn't either, or he would have been running away too. Mikey took two steps, tripped, and fell onto his butt, holding his hands up to protect himself from the oncoming monsters.

  "Stop! Help! Help me!" he screamed in terror.

  Marsh called out, "What's going on?"

  The dogs attacked. At least, one of them did. The biggest of the pack went for Mikey, grabbing at his arms and legs, growling viciously.

  The other two went for Marsh, but not to attack. The giant dogs stood on either side of him, as if to protect him. But from who? Or what? Mikey? No way Mikey was going to bother Marsh again. He was too busy being munched. He scrambled to his feet and ran for the front of the house with the dogs nipping at his legs.

  "Get it away!" he cried.

  Marsh and Sydney exchanged quick, confused looks and took off after him. The two other dogs trotted along on either side of Marsh like demonic escorts. Marsh had no idea they were there. I followed close behind.

  When we all got to the front of the house, I watched as Mikey fought to get into his car while kicking at the dog. It didn't look as if the animal was doing any damage, but it must have been terrifying just the same. These dogs were demons on four legs. Mikey finally got inside, slammed the door shut, gunned the engine, and screamed off with the dog chasing behind. The two other dogs left Marsh and sprinted after their pal. I could hear their vicious barking as they ran behind the car. They followed it for maybe half a block, then disappeared. Vanished. Poof.

  Marsh and Sydney had no idea what had just happened. But I had a good idea. What I didn't know was why. "Then there's that," Sydney declared, numb.

  "I don't get it," Marsh said. "He just started going nuts. Should we call somebody?"

  "Like who?"

  "I don't know. His parents?"

  "And say what?" Sydney replied with her usual sarcasm. "Hi, Mrs. Russo. Mikey just had a mental breakdown and he's driving around like a lunatic. Have a nice day."

  Sydney was annoying, but smart.

  Marsh said, "I'm calling your parents."

  "Don't bother," my sister replied. "I spoke with them this morning. Cooper isn't back yet."

  Huh? They were talking about me. Sydney even looked a little shaken, and that was saying something because she didn't shake easily.

  "He's been gone two nights?" Marsh declared anxiously. "That's not right. Now are they worried?"

  Sydney nodded. "They called the police."

  That proved it. Nobody knew I was dead. At least that explained why they weren't very upset.

  "Such a tragedy," came a voice from behind me.

  I turned to see Damon sitting on the steps of my house with his feet casually up on the banister.

  "No one is aware of your untimely demise. Pity."

  The sight of the guy made me want to jump at him, fists first.

  "It was you," I declared. "You sent those dogs to attack Mikey."

  Damon snickered. "Such a typical brute, that one. His sense of superiority is based solely on his ability to physically dominate. It's so . . . unimaginative. Did you enjoy his humiliation as much as I did?"

  "Enjoy? That was for fun? Man, you are sick."

  "Marshall Seaver is mine," he stated flatly. "It would not have served me for that ruffian to have injured him."

  "No," I said. "You want to do that yourself."

  "That depends on you," Damon said with a shrug. "Will you help me? Or does your friend mean so little to you?"

  The only thing that stopped me from attacking the guy again was seeing Sydney run past him and into the house. I was torn between the reality of a familiar life and the horror of a supernatural villain being part of it. I needed time to think, and to understand. Before I did something stupid, I took a step back and became enveloped in the colorful fog.

  My destination was in the Light. Thistledown Lake. Emerald Cove, to be exact. I stood on the shore looking out at the quiet lake. There was something I needed to do but wasn't sure if I was capable. Damon said that if I wanted to, I could fall through the floor. I was a spirit, after all. I needed to know if that meant I could also move over something that wasn't solid. I closed my eyes . . . took a step onto the water . . . and didn't get wet. I don't want to say that I walked on water, it was more like I hovered over the surface. I wanted to move forward and that's what happened. I drifted across the lake, headed toward the center. The experience was both strange and strangely cool.

  As I floated over the water, I heard the cracking of a branch in the woods behind me and glanced back to see a man, an old guy, picking through debris that had washed ashore. He was a real river rat with a beard and long stringy gray hair. His jeans were dirty and he wore a torn flannel shirt even though it was a hot summer day. The guy was scavenging, and he had scored. He knelt down and picked up a bright red jacket that was all wet and dirty. Good for him. I was about to turn my attention back to my journey when he opened up the jacket and I saw it for what it actually was. Printed in big white letters across the back were the words DAVIS GREGORY on top of a big football.

  My jacket. Nobody knew what had happened to me. As far as I knew, nobody was even looking. The only clue to my fate had been discovered by this old guy and he didn't even know what he'd found.

  I was in the right place.

  I drifted out until I reached the spot. I felt it more than remembered it. I hovered over the water, then dropped down until I was below the surface. I was a ghost. I couldn't drown. Hovering in water was no different from floating in air, only a little colder. I still felt sensation. The lake was deep. The bottom had to be more than sixty feet down. I didn't want to go there, but I had to.

  Through the murky silt, I saw the shattered bow of the Galileo. Undisturbed. Undiscovered. I forced myself to stay there. I had to see the one thing I dreaded most. I scanned around, searching the debris field, until I saw something that no person should ever have to see.

  A hand was sticking up out of the mud. My hand. I was buried under mud, sixty feet below the surface of a frigid lake . . . and
nobody knew I had even gone out in the boat.

  10

  Rest in peace? What a joke.

  The afterlife was turning out to be a busy place. I needed time to get my head around all that was happening and figure out my next move, and I couldn't think of a better place to do it than in my own vision. In the Black. Why not? That's how things were supposed to work. So I left the scene of my demise in the Light and imagined being at my house in the Black.

  I arrived to see there was nothing out of the ordinary about the afterlife version of my house, except that I was the only one there. It was both totally familiar and freakishly alien because no matter how normal it all looked, Mom or Dad or Sydney would not be showing up.

  As I stood in my driveway debating about whether or not to go inside, I found that I wasn't alone after all.

  "Chicken Coop!" Bernie the mailman yelled as he hurried up the sidewalk. "Nice to see you back at the old homestead."

  "Are you delivering mail?" I asked.

  "Nah, but I still make the rounds." He leaned into me and whispered conspiratorially, "It keeps me in the know, if you get my drift."

  "Not really."

  "There isn't a whole lot that goes on around here that I'm not aware of. For one thing, I know you've been spending time with the Salinger girl."

  It took me a second to realize who he was talking about.

  "You mean Maggie?" I asked.

  "Right. Maggie. Not a good idea to be hanging around with that one."

  "Why not?"

  Bernie's eyes went wide. "You know why she's still here, don't ya?"

  "Yeah, I heard."

  "It's tragic. That girl is on an express train headed straight for the Blood. I'm not sure why she even stopped here in the first place."

  "Maybe you don't know the whole story."

  "I know enough. What she did? You can't fix something like that."

  Bernie was starting to piss me off. Who was he to judge?

  "What are you here to fix, Bernie?"

  The question surprised him and he got all self-conscious.

  "Uh, well, you know. Nobody's perfect."

  "Thanks, I'll remember that."

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