Skinjacker 02 Everwild Page 4

  The grin left Johnnie-O's face, and he nodded, accepting this new security detail. "On second thought," he said loudly, "maybe I'll stay here and keep my buddy Charlie company."

  Charlie seemed relieved to know he wasn't being left alone.

  Nick opened the door and stepped down from the engine. Around him the Afterlights of Atlanta backed away, cautious and guarded. He didn't know whether they had heard of the so-called Chocolate Ogre, but even if they hadn't, seeing a face such as his gave him a psychological advantage. A kind of authority of the uncanny.

  "Who's in charge here?" Nick asked them. No one answered right away.

  "C'mon--a group this big has to have someone in charge."

  There were murmurs in the crowd, and then someone spoke, Nick couldn't be sure who it was. "You mean in charge of us, or all Atlanta?"

  Interesting, thought Nick. That meant that there was some sort of structure here. Maybe even a government.

  "When I say in charge, I mean in charge," he answered.

  The crowd murmured again, and once the murmurs had died down, Nick said, "I'll be waiting." Then he strode back to the train, and prepared for a meeting with the eminent ruler of Atlanta.

  They kept Nick waiting in the parlor car for more than an hour. It could have been intentional, or it simply could have taken that long to retrieve the kid in charge. Nick gave them the benefit of the doubt. The kid who finally climbed into the parlor car was a tall and gangly African-American Afterlight, about sixteen or so. The torn, shabby clothes he wore made Nick wonder if perhaps he had been a slave when he was alive, and yet there was a confidence to his stride that bristled with powerful independence. Whatever this boy had been forced to endure in life, he had certainly risen above it here.

  He looked Nick over and said, "What's wrong with your face?"

  Apparently stories of the Chocolate Ogre had not reached Atlanta after all. He didn't know whether to be grateful or annoyed. Either way, he didn't feel like answering the question. "Please sit down," he said. "Let's talk."

  The Afterlight introduced himself as Isaiah. He didn't offer to shake Nick's hand.

  "Tell me about Atlanta," Nick said. "How many of you are there?"

  Apparently Nick wasn't the only one reluctant to give answers. Isaiah crossed his arms. "First tell me about your train," he said. "I've never seen an Everlost train before."

  "My train is my business."

  "Well, maybe it won't be your train anymore."

  Nick wasn't sure whether this was an actual threat, or just a show of force. He decided to match Isaiah's confidence measure for measure.

  "You won't take my train."

  "How can you be sure?"

  "Because," said Nick, "if you meant to steal it from me, you would have done it already. Besides, you don't strike me as the type. I think you're honorable. I think that's how you got to be in charge here. You probably overthrew some bully, and had everyone's support, because the kids here trusted you."

  Isaiah smiled. "I took down a whole lot of bullies, actually." He didn't let the smile linger for long. "Honorable or not, you're trespassing."

  "It's not trespassing if we stop the train, and ask for permission to pass." Isaiah was not impressed, so Nick added. "Besides, I have something you need."

  "And what might that be?"

  "News of the world," Nick told him. "News from the north." "I didn't think there was a north in Everlost," Isaiah said. "And anyway, whatever happens there don't matter to us."

  Nick kept silent, waiting for Isaiah's curiosity to kick in. Finally Isaiah said, "What kind of news."

  "Have you heard of Mary, the Sky Witch?"

  Isaiah shrugged. "Sure I have--but it's just a story, everyone knows it's not true."

  "That's where you're wrong." Then Nick told him everything he knew about Mary. How she had kept hundreds of younger kids from finding the light, and leaving Everlost. How Nick had freed them himself, right under her nose ... and how she was now gathering more Afterlights to mother, to pamper, to trap. This time, however, he had reason to believe that Mary was building herself an army.

  "Did you give them coins?" Isaiah asked. "Is that how you freed them?"

  "You know about the coins?"

  Isaiah nodded. "We all had them once, but lost them, or tossed them. Most of the kids here don't know what they're for, but some of us do." He became thoughtful for a moment. "I'd like to think we'll find them again. When we're truly ready to move on."

  "Maybe there's a whole bucketful waiting for you." And that's all Nick said about it. Something told him that freeing the kids of Atlanta was best left for another day.

  "There may come a time when everyone in Everlost will have to take sides," Nick told Isaiah. "Can I count on you if I need you?"

  "If there's a side to choose, I'll choose it when the time comes," Isaiah said, keeping a stern poker face. "But right now, you can count on me to let you pass through Atlanta safely."

  Nick nodded respectfully. "Thank you."

  Isaiah prepared to rise, thinking their meeting of the minds was over--but Nick wasn't quite done.

  "One more thing," Nick said. "Because I've heard rumors ... Maybe you could tell me if they're true."

  Isaiah smiled. It was unguarded, uncalculated. It was genuine. "So what would you like to know?"

  Nick cleared his throat, and tried to figure the best way to word the question. In the end he decided to just be direct.

  "What do you know about 'The Ripper'?"

  Isaiah's expression was stony. He took a moment before answering as if he had to control some emotion before allowing himself to speak. "I know what they say about him. Not sure if I believe it all, but I don't want to find out."

  "Tell me what they say."

  Isaiah gripped the arms of his chair as he spoke. "They call him Zach the Ripper. They say he was a bad seed when he was alive, and even worse afterward. Evil to the core, and dumb as a post. They say he hates the living so much, he reaches into the living world and pulls their hearts right out of their bodies."

  "Ecto-ripping!" Nick said, not sure whether he was more amazed or horrified.

  "They say he can pull anything out of the living world and into Everlost ... but that kind of ability, it can make a person crazy."

  Nick nodded. He had known a spirit called the Haunter. Ecto-ripping was just one of his powers. He might have been insane, or simply corrupted by his power from the inside out. Regardless, he was darkly evil, and had imprisoned Nick in a brine-filled barrel, where he might have stayed until the end of time, had things been different. The thought of facing another Afterlight like the Haunter made him shiver.

  "There's more," Isaiah said, but then he hesitated, as if he was afraid to even speak it aloud. "People say the Ripper can also reach right inside an Afterlight, and pull stuff out, too. And when he does, the wound doesn't heal ... and whatever he takes ... it don't grow back."

  "That's impossible." Nick knew enough about Everlost to know Afterlight "flesh" wasn't like living flesh at all. Wounds were bloodless, and zipped closed instantly. "You can't hurt an Afterlight."

  "Maybe it's just a story," said Isaiah. "But maybe not."

  Was Nick crazy to be searching for a spirit such as this? Probably. But on the other hand, Mary was building herself an army, and what did he have? Johnnie-O and Charlie? If he were ever to face Mary again, he would need powerful allies by his side to help balance the odds.

  Allies ... and Allie.

  He wondered where Allie was now. Of course he wanted to see her again--but he had also spent a lot of time thinking about her skinjacking skill. What an amazing power that was! And terrifying, too. Or at least it would be, in the wrong hands. Thank goodness Allie was a decent girl with a conscience-- because her skill could really make a difference in a battle against Mary.

  But Nick had to admit, with a heavy heart, that there was no guarantee he'd ever see Allie again. Which meant he had to find other kids with unique powers to stand against Ma
ry.

  "Tell me where to find the Ripper," Nick said to Isaiah.

  Isaiah sighed, and told Nick where the Ripper was rumored to be. "Like I said, it may just be a story--no guarantee he'll be there."

  Then they shook hands. "I hope to see you again," Nick said.

  Isaiah couldn't look him in the eye. "You won't," he said. "Because if you find the Ripper, you're never coming back."

  CHAPTER 6 Shuttle Diplomacy

  The tracks ended.

  They didn't end at the ghost of some grand terminal--they just stopped. Whoever built them must have ripped them out of the living world even before the rail line was completed. Charlie pulled on the brake just in time, and the train squealed to a reluctant stop, just a dozen yards before the tracks vanished. "Lucky I saw it!" Charlie said. "If we went off the end, this whole train woulda sunk, with us still in it."

  Charlie etched the end of the line on the map he was making on the engine bulkhead. "There was a spur that went off west, maybe twenty, thirty miles back. We could back her up and see where that track goes... ."

  "Maybe later," Nick told him, and turned to Johnnie-O. "We'll walk the rest of the way."

  Johnnie-O did not seem pleased. "Rest of the way where?"

  Nick didn't answer him. "Charlie, you stay with the train." He thought for a moment, then added, "You'll wait for us, right?" "Sure ... unless those Atlanta kids show up."

  Nick nodded his understanding, and he and Johnnie-O went south, pushing through dense living-world brush that tickled their insides as they walked.

  In time they came to a two-lane highway that ran east and west, cutting through the flat, forested Florida terrain. Nick turned east, and they followed the road, which was easier to walk on than the marshy earth.

  "Are you ever gonna tell me where we're going?" Johnnie-O finally asked.

  Nick didn't look at him. "We follow this road east until we reach the shore."

  "Why?" asked Johnnie-O. "You want me to be your bodyguard and all, then I got a right to know why we're doing this."

  "I never said you were my bodyguard. If you don't want to come you don't have to."

  "Why can't you just answer the question?"

  Nick stopped and turned to him, thinking about how much he should say, if anything. "When did you die?" Nick asked him.

  "What's that got to do with anything?"

  "It just does."

  Johnnie-O looked down, shuffling his feet. "I can't exactly remember."

  "What do you remember?"

  Johnnie took some time to rustle up what memories he could. "When I died, The Whistler was my favorite radio show," he said.

  Radio, thought Nick. That would probably place Johnnie-O in the 1930s, maybe '40s. "The place we're going is part of my history, but part of your future--and anything I tell you will just make you ask more questions that I don't want to answer."

  Nick turned and continued walking.

  "I'm really starting not to like you," Johnnie-O said. "Not that I ever liked you to begin with." But still he followed Nick east.

  Great tragedies have great consequences. They ripple through the fabric of this world and the next. When the loss is too great for either world to bear, Everlost absorbs the shock, like a cushion between the two.

  On a sunny Tuesday--for it seems so many awful things happen on a Tuesday--six astronauts and one schoolteacher attempted to pierce the sky. Instead they touched the stars.

  Ask anyone who was alive at the time, and they will still remember where they were the moment they heard that the shuttle Challenger blew up just seventy-three seconds after lifting off from Cape Canaveral. The shape of that terrible explosion became burned into human consciousness like the shape of the mushroom cloud over Hiroshima.

  The world mourned the lives lost, as well as mourning the loss of an idea, for although space flight had always been, and would always be a dangerous endeavor, there was a certain unspoken faith that human ingenuity, and the grace of God, would keep our ascent to the heavens safe. But the universe is nothing if not balanced. For every Apollo Thirteen, there would be a Challenger. For every miracle, a tragedy.

  But look away now from that fiery forked cloud in the sky, for history cannot be undone. Instead look to the Cape, where you will see a spacecraft pointed eternally heavenward, preserved in Everlost, in that perfect moment of glorious anticipation. Its countdown is forever frozen at one second before liftoff, for that is the last moment a launch can be aborted. It is the moment that stands on the edge of hope and doom.

  Seven valiant souls got where they were going that morning, and while eternity opened its gates to welcome them, Everlost opened its gates to welcome the majestic vessel that took them where all men have gone before.

  "What is that, some kind of castle?" asked Johnnie-O, looking across the lagoon to the towering marvel.

  Nick forgave him his ignorance. What would have been the point in trying to explain this earlier? It was best to let him see it for himself. "It's a spaceship."

  "Do you think I'm an idiot?"

  Nick didn't push the issue; instead he led them both across the narrow causeway to the Cape--a much longer journey than it looked, and as the massive craft loomed before them, Johnnie-O could no longer deny the truth of what it was.

  "So it is a spaceship!" And then he looked to Nick, both hopefully and doubtfully. "Can we make it go?"

  "I don't think that's a good idea," Nick told him. "Anyway, that's not why we're here." And before Johnnie-O could ask any more questions, Nick said, "What do you know about Zach the Ripper?"

  Johnnie-O stopped walking and instantly began to sink, but he didn't seem to care. "You're crazy! You're crazier than Mary and the McGill put together!" "You're probably right."

  "If Zach the Ripper is here, then this is the one place in Everlost I don't want to be!"

  "So go back," Nick told him simply, and kept moving forward. Johnnie-O pulled his feet out of the ground and followed, grumbling all the way.

  Like any other Everlost legend, Nick knew there was no telling how much, if anything, about Zach the Ripper was true, but he knew that dealing with a ripper was dangerous business. Isaiah wasn't the first one to speak of Zach the Ripper's ability to inflict permanent damage on an Afterlight. If you were decapitated by Zach the Ripper, you stayed decapitated, and you'd be stuck having to carry your head around in a backpack, or under your arm, or dangling from the end of your hand by your hair. Whether or not you'd feel the pain of it was unknown--for although Afterlights weren't supposed to feel physical pain, all bets were off when it came to an ecto-ripper.

  For this reason, Nick was terrified as he approached the great spacecraft, but he didn't show his fear to Johnnie-O. Johnnie-O was scared enough already. Somewhere in the distance, a stray dog in the living world began to bark, but they both ignored it.

  "Look at that thing!" Johnnie-O said, staring at the massive craft. "It's just standing there in midair!"

  The orbiter and its rocket assembly were indeed floating about a hundred and fifty feet in the air. Nick knew there had once been a launchpad beneath it, but the shuttle launchpad was on tractor treads, and had long since been rolled away. "It's resting on the memory of a launchpad," Nick told him.

  "Wonder what Mary would have to say about that."

  Nick put on his best Mary voice. "In all things postmortem, the stubbornness of memory outweighs the so-called laws of physics. Best to report any antigravitational sightings to an authority."

  Johnnie-O stared at him. "You're scary."

  A closer inspection of the suspended spacecraft revealed that there was a rickety scaffold right beside it, just a few feet wide, and randomly pieced together. It looked more like a vertical beaver dam, stretching up to the engines, and clinging to the craft itself, all the way up to the orbiter's hatch. There was also something else on the huge deadspot beneath the suspended craft. Something that shouldn't be there at all.

  "That's ... a dog... ." said Nick.

 
"Well, I can see that."

  But Johnnie-O didn't quite get it. The dog had been barking nonstop for the past few minutes. Nick was used to tuning out barking dogs, just like most other sounds of the living world. But this dog wasn't part of that world. It was here in Everlost. It was barking at them.

  The dog was some kind of unholy mismatched genetic mutt. Something like Rottweiler, crossed with Pomeranian. It was both huge and annoying at the same time.

  "Wait a second!" said Johnnie-O, one beat behind. "That dog's in Everlost!"

  The Pomerrott mutt was chained to a spike in the middle of the deadspot. Which meant someone had to put it there. Johnnie-O still couldn't wrap his mind around it. "But ... but, there are no dogs here. You know what they say, 'All dogs go to heaven,' right? Right?"

  "Not this one. Maybe dog heaven took one look at it and sent it back."

  Just then another sound cut between the Pomerrott's barks. It sounded like a loud snapping twig. Nick realized it was a gunshot the same instant the bullet caught him in the eye. It spun him around and knocked him to the ground. Chocolate splattered the underbrush and the Pomerrott barked like there was no tomorrow.

  Johnnie-O screamed and ducked for cover. So much for him being a bodyguard. Not that Nick needed protection from bullets. He pushed himself up on all fours, blinked a few times, and the painless "wound" healed itself closed. In a few moments, his eye returned to normal. He had been caught off guard, that's all--in Everlost, a sniper is little more than a nuisance. Still there's nothing fun about being shot in the eye. He looked at the chocolate splattered around him, and wondered whether it had just splattered off of his face or come from inside when the bullet hit him? Were his insides turning to chocolate as well? He tried not to think about it, because thinking about it too much would make it so.

  Johnnie-O, quickly remembering his own relative invulnerability, stood up and looked toward the spacecraft looming before them. "Whoever it is, he's going down!"