Sam Saves the Night

by Shari Simpson

  “You tried to break up my tribe, Sleep Sis. Good thing I brought backup. Always smart to have some new friends waiting in the wings.” It was Sam’s own voice, but the words were so very Madalynn’s. She staggered toward Sam, and it was like looking into a fun-house mirror, seeing herself stretched and distorted, devoid of her spirit and occupied by something alien and almost inhuman.

  “The whole Clutch came on board!” Madalynn/Sam crowed. “They’re very loyal to their leader, and you know how I value loyalty.” This cryptic statement was directed at the shamefaced team of Beige and Bullet. Bree hung her head, still swathed in the magenta robe, which Madalynn/Sam promptly ripped off and handed to Zac. He looked at her in misery, then tore the robe right down the middle. Bree whimpered.

  “Where is my tribe? How did you—how did you—” Sam stuttered, unable to force out the words “How did you brainwash the Clutch?”

  “Well, I will say it was a lot easier sneaking into your house than it was for Wichachpi to get those pesky physical bodies out. Seriously, four locks on the front door? Isn’t that overkill, even for a sleepwalker’s house?” Madalynn/Sam shook her borrowed head. “And as far as your tribe is concerned… Bring him!”

  Byron was roughly pushed out of the crowd by Odakotah. The long-armed Clutch snuck a regretful peek at Sam.

  “Byron!” Sam cried out in relief, but the Roamer just stood motionless.

  “I’m sorry, Sam,” he said, barely above a whisper.

  “Are you wondering why By the Spy doesn’t fight back, why he’s not defending you?” Madalynn/Sam continued, crossing over to Byron with that eerie, unbalanced step, peering into his grim face. “Has his Roamer soul finally caught up to him? Maybe he’s just going to check out now, and let you take care of everything. People do show who they really are in the darkness, after all.”

  Sam felt her spirit start to return. No way was she going to fall for this. “That might be true, but even in the darkness, we can make choices.”

  Madalynn/Sam laughed, the sound grating and joyless. “Oh, Sam, you are as adorable as ever. And you’re right, of course. The only reason your tribe isn’t trying to stop me or, like, gut me with that Extreme’s super-scary knife is ’cause I’ve got something on them. Because… I’ve got something on you.”

  Sam looked around at the Wakers covering the lawn, their heads bowed, their faces blurred by the streaming rain. She saw Dev and Alyssa and Noa, and even Emmy, staring at the ground. Sure, they were being restrained by Clutch, but there was something else immobilizing them as well. What information or plan could Madalynn possibly have that would handicap all these brave souls?

  “What do you want, Madalynn?”

  “It’s more of what I don’t want. I don’t like the ideas you’re putting in the Wakers’ misty little heads. Forgiveness is for fools, Sam. Suckers. And all your gooey garbage about ‘being an individual’ ”—Madalynn/Sam did air quotes and then grimaced at Sam’s un-manicured nails—“well, that’s just going to make it harder for me to recruit. I want control of the night back and the only way that can happen is if the Helper is gone.”

  “No!” It was Fletch’s voice. Sam spied her doctor, locked in Margie’s Toyota and guarded by more Clutch. Fletch’s eyes were so wide and wild that Sam could see his sclerae from across the whole lawn as he pounded on the window, yelling, “Don’t listen to her, Sam! I can fix this!”

  Madalynn/Sam continued as if she hadn’t just been interrupted by a hostage situation. “Gone from the night and back to your old, miserable, dangerous, sleepwalking self. So! Here’s the plan: You’re going to let me take your body to my special friend—what did you call him, Dr. X?—and he’s going to zap you back in here.” She patted her chest, Sam’s chest, with a little grin. “And you’re going to do that because… well, I’ll just admit it, I took Wichachpi’s body for a little spin tonight and right now it’s waiting on an exam table to be reattached if your body doesn’t show up. One of you ladies is getting zapped tonight. It’s you or her.”

  Wichachpi moaned pitifully and the moan was taken up by the entire Clutch tribe, which was disconnected, divided, spread out across the lawn to subdue Sam’s tribe and the newly freed MeanDreams, free no longer. The sound was visceral, tormented. Even being apart for this short amount of time was sapping their souls of life. If they lost Wichachpi…

  I said we had choices. But I don’t have a choice.

  Madalynn/Sam was watching her and she did a fist pump. “Yes! I knew it! Look at your face! No way is the Helper gonna let that freako Clutch girl take the fall! Oh, I am brilliant.”

  “No! Sam, no!” Jax was trying to yell through the gag in his mouth, which Sam suddenly recognized as the material Alyssa had used for Bree’s turban. The beige girl whimpered again, turning away from the sight.

  “Jax. It’s okay.” Sam’s voice was shaking, but she was settled. “I’m not gonna die or anything. I’m just… going back.” A sudden image of nearly being decapitated by a chain saw in a half-built tree house flashed through her mind. But she couldn’t think about that now. Wouldn’t.

  “Sam…” Jax moaned through his gag, near tears.

  “Jax. Let her do what she needs to do.” Margie was crazy calm all of a sudden, and it made Sam want to hug her ferociously. “I tried to stop a Helper once, too, remember? It doesn’t work.”

  “Aw, your family is so sweet,” crooned Madalynn/Sam. “They’re just going to let me parade your bod outta here. Now, that’s love.”

  “Can I say good-bye to my tribe?” It sounded more plaintive than Sam had intended, but darned if she hadn’t just fallen in like with all of them in this short time, even crazy Emmy. And Byron… Yeah, that might be a little bit more than like.

  “Well, sure,” purred Madalynn/Sam. “I’ll let you do that. I’m not a mean girl, after all.” There was a moment of silence as every single being on the lawn, Waker and Later, gave Madalynn/Sam a “seriously?” look. She looked around incredulously. “What?”

  One by one, the Clutch released Sam’s tribe. Dev and Alyssa ran over, and the Juvenold hugged her around the waist while the OCDeed sadly smoothed Sam’s pajamas. Noa loped over slowly and put his hand out for a fist bump, whispering, “Godspeedo.” Emmy pounded her chest a few times and then spread her arms wide for a hug. As she yanked Sam into her embrace, she whispered in her ear, “Boss Lady. I got an idea.”

  “No knives, Emmy,” Sam whispered back.

  “Blade-free, I swear on my bungee cord,” Emmy whispered.

  Madalynn/Sam called out, “Okay, that’s enough! Girls whispering secrets is always a bad idea. I learned that from leading the anti-bullying sessions at school.” She chuckled, then looked a bit miffed at the wedged-hairball sound that came out.

  Sam pulled back from the hug, and Emmy winked at her, making a series of motions with her hands that obviously was meant to explain her new plan, but looked more like she was one of those workers at the airport with orange lights bringing in a big jet. Sam just shook her head.

  “Okay, well, bye-bye, Sleep Sis.” Madalynn/Sam grinned. “I’m gonna take a couple of the kooky Clutchers with me so they can speed me along a bit. And listen, sorry that I have to do this, but we’re gonna have to give this bod of yours some meds to conk you out, which means you’re gonna feel lousy tomorrow, but that’s the price I have to pay to keep Dr. X’s identity my little secret, right?” Madalynn/Sam reached around and patted herself on the back. “I thought of everything, didn’t I?!”

  “Not everything!” A voice came from the gloom, punctuated by an indignant bark.

  Jaida ran into the center of the circle, panting, carrying Weezy, and dragging at least six Clutch behind her.

  “Jeez, you took long enough!” Sam hissed to Jaida.

  “You try fighting off invisible beings sometime!” Jaida hissed back. “They put a sock in my mouth! A dirty, wet sock!”

  The grin had dropped off Madalynn/Sam’s face, which was now pooled into a streaming wet mask of rage. Sh
e approached Jaida, Sam’s body jerking and twitching. Weezy started to growl.

  “I should have known,” Madalynn/Sam muttered. “I should have known that things could never be even with us, Jaida.”

  “Maddie, please. It was so long ago…” Jaida pleaded.

  “You were my best friend!” shrieked Madalynn/Sam. “That’s supposed to be forever!”

  “I’m sorry.” Jaida’s voice broke. “I never meant to hurt you. I just wanted us to have other friends, too. You were such a good friend, Maddie, I wanted other people to know that—”

  “That’s not true! You just decided you were tired of me! You wanted to replace me!”

  “No! No. It was just too much. You wanted me all to yourself and I couldn’t do it anymore.…” Jaida was crying now.

  “You left me alone.” Madalynn/Sam’s voice broke, her face twisting into utter desolation and hopelessness. The sight nearly broken Sam’s heart. There was no villain here. Everybody’s got stuff. “All alone. And now you’re gonna pay for that. I don’t care what he says; you’re all going to pay.”

  He?

  “I don’t need any of you! I don’t need anybody at all!” Madalynn/Sam’s voice rose into an ugly shriek. She whirled around and started off, loping across the lawn with a broken, disfigured gait. She was leaving. She was going to take Sam’s body to Dr. X and make her a sleepwalker again—forever. And all Sam could do was watch it happen.

  Emmy grabbed Sam, whirled her around. “Boss Lady! Knock her out!”

  “What?! I’m not going to hit her—!”

  “Noooo!” Emmy howled. “Knock her out of your body! Catch her, jump in there, and push her soul out!”

  “Yes!” Jax shouted through his gag.

  “Totally!” Alyssa shrieked. “Kick out the meanie!”

  “I’ll hold her down!” Noa hitched up his pajamas, ready to run. “Push out the parasite!”

  “I can’t!” Sam cried. “If my body doesn’t show up tonight, Dr. X will zap Wichachpi!”

  “Sam’s right.” Byron was obviously trying to control himself. “She has to let her go.”

  “But why?!” Emmy wailed.

  “Don’t you get it?! Because she’s a Helper!” This time Byron shouted.

  Margie started to cry. Alyssa’s face crumpled, and Noa hung his head. The Clutch began to wail. Even Bree closed her eyes, and Zac punched her in the arm compassionately.

  “Yeah? Well, I’m not,” Emmy spit out. She turned and took off after Madalynn/Sam.

  “Emmy!” Sam shrieked, and gave chase. Weezy jumped from Jaida’s arms and barreled after her, barking like a pug possessed. And as she was running, hovering after Emmy, who had traversed the lawn at hyper-cross speed and almost had her hands on Madalynn/Sam, and the Clutch was wailing and the Laters were shouting and her tribe was following and Weezy was howling—

  That’s when Sam saw it.

  Madalynn’s silver cord, extending behind Sam’s physical body. It was dim, slight, frayed, so tenuous and fragile, it was almost nonexistent. And she remembered a doctor with raindrops glistening on his green glasses, pacing, mumbling, “Repeated bodyhopping will fray the lifeline beyond recognition, eventually causing it to snap…”

  “Madalynn!” Sam screamed. “STOP!”

  She must have sounded sincerely desperate, because not only did Madalynn/Sam and Emmy stop, even Weezy did a paw-lock, causing his roly-poly body to tumble, one end over the other. Then they all looked back at her: Madalynn/Sam suspiciously, Emmy quizzically, and Weezy dizzily.

  “Your silver cord…” Sam almost whispered now, holding up her hands as if in surrender. “Your lifeline… it’s going to snap. Look at it. Please…”

  Madalynn/Sam’s eyes narrowed. She looked down, slowly, gazing at the glistening wisp that tethered her to herself, connected her soul to another body sleeping peacefully across town, the beautiful physical shell that had fooled so many for so long. Sam held her breath in a prayer.

  Madalynn/Sam grinned. “Nice try, loser.”

  She whirled around and took off, so quickly that Emmy’s frantic grasp missed its target.

  Sam tried to scream “Stop!” again; it stuck in her throat.

  But Madalynn/Sam stopped anyway. Abruptly, sharply, as if she had run into an imperceptible wall. And she started to fall, except it was only Sam’s body that fell. Still standing was Madalynn—the essence of Madalynn—separated from the body she’d been hiding in.

  All the SleepWakers saw it. Bright and sudden, like it had been ignited, Madalynn’s silver cord flared into view. It was broken. Severed, just above where Sam’s body lay on the ground.

  Madalynn saw it, too, and the comprehension dawned slowly and painfully on her ethereal face.

  “Madalynn…” Sam whispered. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t want this to…”

  But Madalynn had already begun to fade, to evaporate, to dissolve before them, her bright blue eyes lingering last, giving Sam a final wrathful stare before they, too, ebbed away.

  Paralyzed with disbelief, they all stared at the space that a moment ago held the soul of Madalynn and was now empty. Sam was the first to move. She ran to her body and shook it violently, just to make sure.

  And just like that, she woke up. In her body, staring up at the Wakers who gathered around her, and beyond, up at the stars, wondering if Madalynn was flying between them, on her way home.

  WELL, OF COURSE SHE’D HAVE a pink coffin. Sam didn’t even know such a thing existed, although she had heard of people being buried in piano cases and vintage cars and other odd receptacles.

  On a movie-theater-size screen behind the casket (thankfully, closed), an endless loop of videos played: Madalynn doing a high full around at the GottaCheer Classic in Buttzville, Madalynn as Florence Nightingale kick-ball-changing around a prop lamp, Madalynn serving sweet potato pie at the homeless shelter on Thanksgiving wearing an apron inscribed with #Blessed, Madalynn being crowned Queen of Everybody and Everything at the eighth-grade dance.

  Dr. Fletcher and Joanne were sitting near the front of the jam-packed viewing room when Sam arrived, whispering fervently to each other—not that anything could be heard over the weeping and wailing of the faculty and student body of Wallace Junior High. Eighth-grade girls keened, Mr. Todorov shrieked, “Cry for me, Argentina!” over and over, Angry Agnes sobbed, tucking a tiny Tupperware of cafeteria mac ’n’ cheese under the mink mortcloth draped over the casket. It was all to be expected; the only thing that caught Sam’s attention was Madalynn’s über-blond parents fussing with one of the approximately three hundred flower arrangements adorning the room. Partly because they were wearing matching black tuxedos, but mostly because they were completely dry-eyed.

  Well, actually, that was not the only thing that caught Sam’s attention.

  Across the room, she spied Byron. He was looking rather uncomfortable, either due to his snugly fitting designer suit, or the snugly clinging gorgeous girl on his arm.

  Byron intercepted her gaze, and began the journey over, a pronounced “it sucks that this is how you’re finding out” look on his face.

  “Hey. Sam, this is Fiona. Fiona, Sam.”

  “Hi, Fiona, it’s nice to meet you,” Sam said, with a little pit in her stomach. Really, Fifi just couldn’t have been prettier. She was wearing one of those sack dresses that on the average human looked like, well, a sack, but on Fiona was totes haute couture.

  “Hello, Sam. Byron told me he met you through his mom?” She said it warmly, but there was a hint of a question, just a wee thread of “I hope that’s true.”

  “Yes.” Sam smiled reassuringly, not that it was necessary. How could this potential Teen Vogue model think that Sam was any competition? Girls were so weird sometimes.

  Byron whispered something in Fiona’s ear. She looked mildly annoyed but rearranged her lovely face quickly and said, “I’m going to get us some coffee, would you like some?”

  “Oh. Uh… no, thanks, I don’t drink coffee.” Because I’m thirteen
was what went through Sam’s mind, but “Because I’m sensitive to caffeine” was what came out of her mouth.

  “Got it.” Fiona smiled and walked away. To her credit, she only looked back once.

  “So. Helper.”

  “Yes, Roamer?” Sam wasn’t sure why she suddenly felt like either hugging him or crying, but she fought off both impulses.

  “You ready for the council tonight?” Byron took a quick glance around before this question. Not that anyone could have figured out what they were talking about, but still.

  “I’m ready. We’ve got one soul from every tribe committed?”

  “Yeah. Death has a way of waking people up. Even in the middle of the night.” Byron said this ruefully, then with a hint of a smile. “I personally asked Wichachpi. On bended knee. I think she was a little afraid I was proposing at first.”

  Sam smiled back. This is good. We’re friends. She could do this. Right?

  “Cool. I’m going to tell the tribes it’ll be like a neighborhood watch. We check in with each other, we assign block captains, all that stuff. Just… spread out across the country. With detached souls.” Suddenly it all sounded just too ludicrous, and Sam started to giggle. She put a hand over her mouth. “Help me, I think I’m losing it.”

  “It’s okay, it’s a natural tendency to laugh at funerals. A sign of wanting to live.” Byron noticed a few mourners giving them dirty looks. “Just keep it kinda chill, ’cause the sadness police are watching.”

  “Hey, guys.” Jaida slipped in next to them as her posse sat down. It was the first time Sam had seen Amy, Gina, and Daisy since the smelly bathroom surveillance; they were giving off a confused, shruggy vibe at seeing Jaida talking to her, which only served to increase Sam’s moderate hysteria. She clapped both hands over her mouth, her shoulders shaking. Jaida looked startled. “Are you crying?!”

  “It’s all good. She’s having a… let’s just call it sort of an emotional release.” Byron put his arm around Sam and turned her away from the watchful eyes of the congregation. She allowed herself three seconds of leaning against his chest under the guise of “comfort,” then backed away.