The Black

by D. J. MacHale

  Nothing was out of the ordinary except that the normally busy park was deserted. A few yards from the arch was a street lined with parked cars. Something seemed off and not just because of the lack of people. I couldn't put my finger on exactly what it was, but there was something odd about the cars. It wasn't until I focused on a license plate that it became clear. The expiration date on the tag read: DEC 78. I walked my bike along the sidewalk to see the same thing on the other license plates. Every last one of the cars was old, but it wasn't like they were Junkers. Some actually looked new. It was the style that was old. There was an electric blue number called a Plymouth Duster, a Volvo that looked more like a giant shoe box than a car, and a big yellow land yacht with a black vinyl top called a Ford Galaxie 500. It was like being in a car museum.

  I walked the bike farther along until I came to a corner pizza place. In the window was a New York Yankees World Series Championship poster. The Yankees were always winning the World Series, nothing strange there, but this poster looked fresh and new like it was hung that morning, and the players were Reggie Jackson, Ron Guidry, and Willie Randolph . . . guys I only saw play on Old-Timers' Day. It was a championship poster from 1977, but it was new, which meant only one thing: This was a vision of New York City in the seventies. That made it all the more unlikely that the vision was Adeipho's. So, then, whose was it?

  The sound of a motorcycle engine broke the silence. I knew what that meant. Looking back to the park, I saw the guy in the clown suit riding my way. I started running uptown but stopped when I saw the guy in the business suit on his motorcycle headed right for me . . . and unlike the BMX riders these guys had black swords.

  I turned east and pedaled fast. I made a left turn then a quick right to discover . . . I was kidding myself. A line of guys on bikes had blocked the street from sidewalk to sidewalk. They had known all along where I was and which way I was headed. For all I knew they had herded me into that exact spot.

  Halfway between me and the line of bikes was an entrance to a subway station marked ASTOR PLACE. It was my last option. Without another thought I turned the bike toward the entrance and rode down the stairs, rattling my teeth. It was like riding a mountain bike, with no shocks on the front fork. I hit the bottom, jumped off the bike, swung it over the old-fashioned turnstile, and remounted on the far side.

  My goal was to ride along the platform to the far exit, ditch the bike, and run back up to the street before they realized what I was doing. I made it exactly halfway when I realized that I hadn't fooled anybody. In front of me, several freaks in clown masks ran up from the tunnel that traveled beneath the tracks to the opposite platform. I slammed on the brakes, skidded to a stop, and stood on the pedals to shoot back the way I had come.

  The guys who had been chasing me were already flooding over the turnstile. I was trapped. The only place to go was down onto the tracks and across to the opposite platform. Before I could jump, I saw that it was too late. A bunch of guys in masks were already there.

  The chase was over. I had to make a stand.

  I went for my sword. A couple of the freaks realized what I was doing and jumped at me. I threw the bike at the first one, which slowed him down long enough for me to take on his pal. The second guy came at me quickly, wanting to finish me off before I could pull out the sword. He was fast. I was faster. As he threw himself at me, I crouched, and he went over my back. I flipped him headover-butt down onto the platform. I'm not proud of having gotten into so many fights over the past few years, but I was grateful to have the experience. Before he could recover, I jammed my foot onto his throat, just below the hideous clown smile. I hated clowns. I sensed the others starting to close in so I pulled the sword out and held the point to the guy's chest.

  "Stop!" I screamed.

  Nobody moved. Nobody spoke. They all knew the power the sword possessed. That I possessed.

  "You're all going to back off and let me go or this guy is done," I said, trying to sound like a badass.

  There was no reaction.

  "I swear!" I said. "I'll do this guy and then cut my own path through you."

  Still, nobody moved.

  "Clear out!" I shouted.

  They didn't.

  I calculated my escape. I'd thrust the sword through the guy under my foot and vaporize him. Hopefully that would be enough to prove to these goons that I was serious, and they'd let me by. If not, I could start swinging and take down as many as possible. Unless they were suicidal they'd back off. That plan took about three seconds to formulate . . .

  And three more seconds for me to realize that I couldn't do it. I wasn't a killer. They had called my bluff. Or maybe it was a test to see how far I'd go. Either way, the chase was over and I was trapped in Trouble Town. I took my foot off the guy's neck, stepped back, and tossed the sword down next to him. The guy sprang to his feet and picked it up.

  I held my arms out in surrender.

  The crowd finally parted. For a second I thought they were clearing a path for me to leave. Maybe all they wanted was the sword. I took a tentative step forward and saw that the path wasn't for me. They had cleared the way for somebody to walk through from behind.

  He no longer had on his circus mask, though I would have recognized him even if he had. It was Adeipho. He strode through the cleared path with his eyes fixed on mine. One hand was on the butt of his own black sword.

  I wanted him to know that I wasn't a coward so I stood defiantly, though I did wonder if it was going to hurt. I remembered the scars he had slashed on Damon's face, and my stomach turned.

  Adeipho reached the leading edge of his people and stopped, glaring at me.

  "Make it fast," I said.

  "You did not destroy his spirit," he declared, pointing to the guy I had stepped on. "Nor the spirit of my daughter." His daughter? Who was his daughter?

  The girl in the business suit who I had fought in the hallway stepped up next to Adeipho. She looked pissed. And she looked like Adeipho. His daughter. Swell. I hoped I hadn't hurt her. I could kiss any hope of mercy good-bye if he thought I had messed with his kid.

  He added, "Why?"

  "Yeah, well, I thought about it."

  "And you chose not to destroy her," he said.

  I shrugged. "I'm not a killer."

  "Yet you are in league with a murderer."

  "He doesn't have anything good to say about you, either."

  "Then, why?" Adeipho asked again.

  "To protect my friend in the Light," I answered.

  That finally got a reaction from the crowd of clowns. They looked to one another and grumbled angrily. I had hit a chord. Adeipho raised his hand and they fell silent.

  Adeipho said, "You have joined with him to protect a living being?"

  I shrugged. "I know, it's against the rules. But he's my friend."

  A bright light flashed across the platform. I turned quickly to see that a subway train was headed into the station. It was moving slowly, its wheels barely making a sound on the tracks. Nobody seemed surprised. Whatever the deal was with the train, it was normal. For them, that is. I, on the other hand, had no idea what was going on.

  There was only one car. It rolled slowly to where we were standing and with a slight squeal of brakes came to a stop. The car was dark so I couldn't tell if anybody was inside. I couldn't help but think that this was planned. The entire time I was blasting through the city to get away from these jokers, they could have been herding me to this spot. Like in all foxhunts, the fox didn't stand a chance.

  The subway door slid open to reveal the guy who bailed me out before, still wearing the masquerade mask. His name was Ree. Strange name, but it would be my favorite name in the world if he was going to bail me out again.

  He stepped out of the subway car, moving with confidence. He strode toward me and stopped a few feet away with his hands on his hips while giving his head a slight shake.

  "You came back," he said, sounding disappointed. He still whispered the way he did when we m
et last.

  "Surprise!" I exclaimed.

  "No surprise," he said with a snicker. "What am I supposed to do with you?"

  "Well, you could tell your boys here to let me go back to my vision. That would be nice."

  "I did that once."

  "Yeah. And that was really cool. You know I could have vaporized a whole bunch of spirits with that sword, right? But I didn't. Tell him, Adeipho. That should count for something."

  Adeipho looked to Ree and said, "I have not told him my name. Do we need any more proof that he is in league with Damon?"

  Oops.

  Ree chuckled and looked to the ground. I was amusing him. I hoped that was a good thing.

  "I suppose it's comforting to know that some things never change," he said.

  "What do you mean?"

  When he answered, he no longer whispered. His voice was clear and strong . . . and it was the voice of a woman. Ree wasn't a he. "I mean you've always been able to talk your way out of—what do you call it? Trouble Town."

  I'd seen and heard some incredible things since I'd arrived in the Black. I'd learned about the nature of life and death and the afterlife. I'd been reunited with my gramps. I learned that there were forces at play that could change the way life worked. But none of that surprised me as much as what this woman had just said.

  "Do I know you?" I managed to croak.

  Ree reached up, grabbed her mask, and pulled it off. My knees buckled.

  Ree was not only a she, but I knew her.

  She smiled and said, "But I'm afraid you can't talk your way out of this one, Coop."

  It had been nearly two years since I'd last seen her, but there was no mistake. I shouldn't have been surprised. It made total sense that she was in the Black. She was dead, having been killed in an earthquake far from home.

  Ree was Terri Seaver.

  Marsh's mom.

  20

  My brain locked.

  I must have been standing there with my mouth open because Mrs. Seaver laughed and said, "Well, this is a first."

  Now that she was no longer whispering, she sounded more like herself.

  "Lots of firsts going on," I managed to croak. My mouth was so dry I could barely move my lips. "Which one are you talking about?"

  "I've never seen you at a loss for words."

  "Yeah, well, that makes us even. I've never seen you dead."

  She chuckled. "There you go! That's the Coop I know."

  "Really? I don't know who the hell I am anymore."

  It was a surreal moment. Dozens of freaks in clown masks stood staring at me and Marsh's mom. Marsh's dead Mom.

  "I wish I could say I'm happy to see you, Cooper," she said, turning serious. "But there's nothing good about your being here."

  "Tell me about it."

  "How did you die?" she asked.

  The question caught me by surprise.

  "Sounds strange to hear it like that," I said.

  "Get used to it. What happened?"

  "Speedboat accident. Thistledown Lake. I guess Damon had something to do with it."

  "Damon," she repeated under her breath like his name left a bad taste in her mouth. "I'm sorry. Now tell me why you're here . . . and don't BS me."

  How was I supposed to answer? I hadn't dropped in for a friendly visit. I was there to help Damon. My killer. It seemed like the right idea at the time, but I wasn't so sure anymore. Seeing Mrs. Seaver changed things. What had been semi-clear before had now been thrown into total chaos. I didn't know who to believe or trust. I wasn't even sure if the woman standing in front of me was actually Mrs. Seaver. Damon was able to create some incredibly real illusions. Who's to say he wasn't still playing me?

  "How do I know you are who you say you are?" I asked.

  "Who else would I be?" she asked, throwing her hands out for emphasis.

  That was a total Mrs. Seaver quick comeback. She wasn't like any of the other moms I knew. Most were kind of stiff while she liked to toss the football around with Marsh and me. I was sad when she died, though I wasn't so sure I was happy to see her again, assuming it was really her.

  "You tell me," I said. "I've seen too many things that don't make sense. You're just the latest."

  "Ask me something nobody else could know."

  It didn't take me long to come up with something. "Okay, what did you give me for my birthday the year before you, uh, died?"

  She dropped her eyes, thinking. If she didn't know the answer, I was done. Standing next to Adeipho was the guy who'd picked up Damon's black sword. He held it in front of his body with the point down. I was ready to leap at him and grab it. It might have been suicide, but if I did it fast enough, maybe I could surprise them all and have one chance to fight my way out.

  "Eternity," Mrs. Seaver said. "The photo I took of the tribal elder from Kenya with his great-granddaughter. You liked it, though I think you would have preferred Madden NFL."

  I relaxed.

  "Okay?" she asked.

  I nodded.

  "Now tell me the truth, Cooper Foley. Why are you here?"

  Adeipho answered for me. "He said he is trying to protect a friend in the Light."

  Mrs. Seaver shot me a worried look.

  "Yeah," I said. "It's Marsh. Damon is haunting him. But that can't be news to you."

  From her surprised reaction it seemed like she didn't know anything about it. But that made no sense. She was Marsh's mom. She must have been watching him in the Light.

  "Come with me," she said, and turned to go back into the subway car.

  "Ree!" Adeipho called out. "This is not wise."

  Mrs. Seaver whipped around and glared at him. Adeipho froze. Mrs. Seaver had become a tough guy. "We knew this time would come," she said to him. She then looked out over the group on the platform. "We all did. The more we learn, the better prepared we will be."

  "I will come with you," Adeipho said.

  "No," she barked. "I've known this boy since he was an infant. I trust him."

  Adeipho wanted to argue but couldn't find the words. Mrs. Seaver softened and said, "He could have destroyed your daughter."

  Adeipho glanced at the girl, who still looked pissed. He relaxed and took a step back.

  "Thank you," Mrs. Seaver said. She then looked at me and her eyes went cold. "You. With me."

  "Yes, ma'am," I said, and obediently followed her into the train.

  The doors closed behind us and the interior lights came on. It was an ordinary subway car except for the furniture. There were chairs and a desk and on the far end, a bed.

  "This is my home," she explained. "I don't like staying in one place."

  The subway began rolling, but slowly. I looked outside at the crowd of clown-masked freaks who watched us slide away. It wasn't until we started moving that I realized I had left Damon's sword with them. I was totally defenseless, not only from these jokers, but from Damon.

  "Uh, Mrs. Seaver, we're going uptown on the downtown track."

  "Call me Ree. That's how I'm known here. Short for Terri, I guess."

  "I can't call you Ree. You're Mrs. Seaver."

  "Not anymore."

  That sounded ominous.

  "Okay. So, then, Ree, we're still on the wrong track."

  "There aren't any other trains. This is my vision. I keep things simple."

  "Shouldn't your vision be Stony Brook?"

  She sat down in a worn easy chair, looking tired. We were alone on the train, though somebody had to be driving.

  "That would be too hard," she explained. "Too many memories. I went to NYU in the late seventies. It's where I first studied photography."

  "You get to choose what part of your life you want to relive in the Black?" I asked. "I didn't know that."

  "Not exactly. Spirits end up reliving a period in their lives that was important to them, good or bad. It's pretty much the whole point of being here. This is a time that started me on the path that led to my passion in life, so here I am. Other spirits find them
selves in more difficult times. I think it's even possible to visit both. It all depends on what each spirit needs to work on. The rules aren't hard and fast, but even then, this vision isn't . . . normal."

  "What does that mean?" I asked.

  "You'll see."

  I hated surprises. "Where are we going?"

  "To a place with answers. That's what you want, isn't it?" I nodded. Sure I wanted answers, among other things. "Do you have any idea how much trouble you're in?" she asked.

  "What I think and what I'm seeing are two different things. But, yeah, I'm knee-deep in it. I haven't exactly been resting in peace."

  She took a deep breath and asked, "What's going on with Marsh?"

  "How can you not know? Haven't you gone to the Light to check up on him?"

  She looked pained. "No."

  "But . . . why not?"

  Mrs. Seaver—Ree—looked anxious. That wasn't like her. "Like I said, this vision isn't normal. You must know that."

  "I know I can't leave whenever I want. When I was here before, we had to move to some border before we could leave. I haven't seen any Watchers here either, except at the edge of the vision."

  "And you won't. This is a unique place in the Black . . . a kind of island. I guess you could say we're exiles here. We control how spirits come and go. Or at least how they go. We can't always stop them from coming. We're isolated by choice but it's a price we're willing to pay. Part of that price is that we can't see into the Light. Or visit. It would be too much of a temptation. I haven't seen Marsh or my husband, Michael, or anyone else I knew. Including you. You've grown up, Coop. I can only imagine what Marsh looks like now."

  "What do you mean 'temptation'?"

  "That's what I'm going to show you."

  "Who are you people? I mean, no offense, but it looks like you're hanging out with a bunch of rejects from a cheesy sci-fi movie."

  She smiled. "We're the Guardians of the Rift."

  I had to let that sink in for a second. "Guardians of the Rift. What's 'the Rift'?"

  Ree stood up and walked toward me. "You'll see, but first I want to know what's going on with Marsh. You said Damon was haunting him, but that's impossible."