Текст книги "Everfound"

Автор книги: Neal Shusterman

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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 27 страниц)

CHAPTER 24

Face the Music

The smile lingered on Jix’s face, his mouth refusing to accept what his ears were telling him. When you’re alone, and life is making you lonely, You can always go . . . Downtown!

The Neons all looked to one another—this was one song it didn’t take a high priest to interpret. They all listened to a mockingly upbeat woman repeat the word “Downtown” in almost every line as she sang about the city’s energy and itsneon signs.

“It said Neons!” Someone shouted! “The song knows our name!” and they turned to Jix and Jill with sudden singular purpose, becoming a raging mob.

The friendships that Jix had formed, the way he had delicately woven himself into the Neons’ social structure—none of that mattered now . . . because Wurlitzer had spoken.

“Downtown!” shouted the Neons. “They’re going Downtown!”

And all at once Jix realized his folly. It was the coins! They should have been a tip-off. Anything truly helpful—anything truly good—would never demand an Afterlight’s coin. Such theft was reserved for monsters and dictators, and, yes even “His Excellency,” who, when it came down to it, was not excellent at all, only power hungry.

As the song reached its chorus, both he and Jill were grabbed by dozens of maniacal hands that practically tore them apart as they lifted them off the ground. Downtown! The song sang, Everything’s waiting for you . . .

And as Jix looked one last time at that shining, faceless jukebox, he couldn’t help but feel that it was laughing at him.

The Neons had to take Jix and Jill up before they could push them down. For the first time since the attack on the train, all the Neons climbed the stone steps and walked out through the gift shop wall into the Vortex of the Aggravated Warrior. It was daytime, and although the Alamo was open, it was a slow day. Only a few tourists milled about the grounds in the living world—and none of them within reach of either Jix or Jill. There were so many hands holding them, they could barely move, much less reach out toward a fleshie and skinjack their way to freedom.

“Take them out the front gate,” the Bopper ordered, then he turned to Jix, offering a moment of sympathy. “Sorry,” he said, “but Wurlitzer knows best.” Jill spat at him, which did not help the situation. He scowled at her then turned to the Neons and said, “We’ll throw them into the river. That way, they’ll be sure to sink fast.”

Then, as they were carried out through the Alamo’s main gate, Jix saw a glorious sight.

Boy scouts!

At least twenty of them, milling around just outside the main entrance. Never had Jix been so pleased to see living, breathing human beings.

“Do you see that?” he called to Jill.

“I’m way ahead of you!” she answered.

The Neons, who never paid much attention to the living, just walked right through the mob of scouts, and the moment they did, Jix pushed himself into the first fleshie he came in contact with and—

—candy / candy toys candy / gift shop / twenty bucks / how many toys / how much candy / and a keychain with my name too—

He quickly put the scout to sleep, took full control of his body, then looked around to orient himself. It never ceased to amaze him how the same spot could be so full of turmoil in Everlost, and yet be so calm in the living world. No sign of the Neons anywhere around them. He could just walk away from here, and never have to face any of this again if he wanted to. Jix looked around and caught sight of another scout looking just as disoriented. “Jill?”

The other kid nodded. “In the flesh.”

A few other kids in troop thirteen looked at them funny. Jix motioned for Jill to step away with him, for a moment of privacy.

“Hey,” said one of the other kids. “Scoutmaster Garber wants us to wait here!” But fortunately the scoutmaster was at the ticket booth, too busy to notice.

Once they were far enough away for no one to hear them, Jill said, “The boy scout look suits you. Now let’s get outta here.”

And although he knew it wasn’t what she wanted to hear, Jix said, “I’m going back.”

“What?” She stared at him, shaking her head. “No! No way! Not this time. If you go back, you go alone.”

“Don’t you see—the Neons don’t know about skinjackers!”

“Yeah,” said Jill. “Lucky for us.”

“More lucky than you think!” Then without any further explanation, Jix peeled out of the scout and returned to Everlost, leaving both the scout and Jill completely bewildered.

In Everlost, the Neons were at a total loss. As far as they were concerned, the two prisoners simply vanished into thin air. It was at least ten seconds until someone asked the obvious question: “Uh . . . where’d they go?”

“I don’t know,” said the Bopper, “but I don’t like it.”

Then, just as quickly as he’d vanished, Jix appeared, standing ten yards away.

“Grab him!” yelled the Bopper, but when they tried, he vanished once more into a flurry of live people, only to appear somewhere else a few moments later.

Now the Neons were scared—which is exactly what Jix was counting on. Then an exceptionally annoyed Jill appeared beside him. Jix was counting on that, too.

“Wh . . . what are you?” someone dared to ask.

It was Jill who answered. “He is the son of the jaguar gods,” she said in a commanding voice, “and the jaguar gods are very . . . very . . . angry!”

Eyes widened, jaws dropped, and some of the smaller kids ran back into the Alamo to hide, but the rest were too shocked to move at all. In fact they were so frozen in place, they were sinking in up to their ankles.

“You mean there really are jaguar gods?” said Little Richard, timidly. “And they’re mad at us?”

“Furious!” Jill said. “But they can be calmed, if you do exactly as Jix says.”

Even though Jix never told her of his plan, she instinctively said all the right things. They were working as a team now! Jix puffed out his chest and matched her commanding tone. “You no longer serve the music machine,” he told them. “You will feed it no more coins, and its name will never be spoken again.”

The Neons all looked to one another. “But . . . But . . .”

“Do as he says, or you will face the wrath of the jaguar gods!” Jill threatened.

Jix wanted to grin at how well their ploy was working, but he kept his face dark and menacing, staring down as many Neons as he could. “You are all now subjects of His Excellency, the Supreme King of the Middle Realm.”

“The who of what?” someone called out.

“Silence!” shouted Jill, clearly relishing every moment of this.

“So . . . there are jaguar gods, and a king?” asked Little Richard.

“Yes,” Jix told them. “But mercy will be shown to those who are obedient . . . and come with gifts.”

“Whaddya mean, ‘gifts’?” the Bopper asked.

“The girl in the glass coffin,” Jix told him. “She will be your gift to the king.” Then he stood there waiting to see what they would do.

The Neons had a very difficult decision to make. For as long as they could remember they had done Wurlitzer’s bidding. Their entire purpose had been to steal coins from stray Afterlights, just so they could hear Wurlitzer “speak.” But Wurlitzer did not move, or disappear, or threaten as this son of the jaguar gods did. In fact, Wurlitzer didn’t do anything without a coin. This gave Jix an advantage—and although Afterlights by their very nature resisted change, they could also adapt when they had to.

The Bopper looked around, gauging the Neons’ reaction to the ultimatum. No one rose in defense of Wurlitzer. The Bopper, who now spoke for all of them, turned to Jix and Jill and made his decision. “What do you want us to do?”

Once Jix made his plans known, the Neons were quick to carry out his orders. They were, after all, an army that was used to doing what they were told—and Jill was more than happy to be their taskmaster.

The first order of business was to move Wurlitzer out of the common room. Jix had them move it into the small room full of old saddles. The Bopper, a bit repentant for how he had treated Jix, led the moving team, and in just a few minutes, this device that everyone had worshiped was now nothing but a relic.

“You know, in all this time, that machine never played a song I liked,” the Bopper said, after setting Wurlitzer in its new resting place. “It’s good that you sent Avalon uptown.”

With Wurlitzer out of sight, Jix hoped it would quickly be out of mind, and when the Neons all began to take off their bright war paint, he knew the machine had truly been defeated.

“We’re leaving here,” Jix told them. “There are boats in Corpus Christi that have crossed into Everlost—enough to carry all of us, and all the sleeping Interlights, south to the Great City of Souls.”

“So . . . ,” said Little Richard, who now followed Jix around. “There’re jaguar gods, a king, and a city of souls?”

“Yes,” Jix told him.

“In Mexico?”

“The living call it Mexico,” Jix said, “but the City of Souls existed before there were nations.”

It was on the evening before their departure that Jix dared to go into the saddle room to face Wurlitzer one last time. He did it because, deep down, he still feared it. Jix knew the jukebox would give him nightmares if Afterlights were able to dream. He didn’t know why—it had neither arms to grab him, nor legs to kick him, and it had no voice but the one the Neons allowed it to have. Perhaps that’s what he feared—how much power a thing could have when it was given permission to have it.

“You are nothing now,” Jix told it. Wurlitzer said nothing. “Your own greed has left you with no one to worship you.” Still, the machine said nothing. “And now you will stay here undiscovered until the end of time.”

And then a voice behind him said, “Wurlitzer made all this happen.” Jix turned to see Little Richard standing there with his empty piggy bank. “He played that ‘Downtown’ song because he knew we would take you outside and you would show us your powers.” Then with enough arrogance to make his point, but not enough to incur the wrath of the jaguar gods, Little Richard said, “Wurlitzer did this for you. You should thank him.”

Then the boy left, and Jix covered the machine, so that its light couldn’t attract anyone else to the room. There were no more coins, and no one to give the machine a voice . . . but Wurlitzer was destined to play one last song before falling silent forever.

CHAPTER 25

The Souler Eclipse

Allie had no choice but to introduce herself to her “home body,” Miranda. She needed an ally in the living world—not just a body she could borrow, but someone who could work on her own, and help track down the skinjackers responsible for these crimes against the living. Allie was quick to figure out that the Benson High fire was not an isolated incident. Whoever these psycho-jackers were—and Allie suspected there were more than one of them—they had to be stopped. She had her suspicions as to who they might be, but she wasn’t ready to pass judgment quite yet. She had always believed a person was innocent until proven guilty, and suspicion was not enough to convict Milos and his cast of idiots.

Allie introduced herself to Miranda slowly, carefully. She hid behind Miranda’s consciousness, and gave her a single stray thought one evening before Miranda went to bed. “I’m a friend and I am in here with you.” And then again, just as the girl woke up in the morning. “My name is Allie. Don’t be afraid.” Both times, Miranda thought it was just part of a dream, but she was wakeful enough to remember . . . so when Allie spoke to her deep within her mind in the school cafeteria that day, it didn’t come completely out of nowhere.

“I’ve been with you for a while,” Allie said in her mind. Miranda nearly choked on her chili, excused herself from her friends, and hurried to the bathroom.

“You’re not real,” Miranda said aloud. “You’re just in my head. It’s because my mom’s right, and I don’t get enough sleep.”

“I am in your head,” Allie told her. “But I’m also real. We’ll talk again later.” Then Allie pulled out, giving Miranda time to process this new wrinkle in her life.

That evening, as Miranda did her homework, Allie moved inside her again. She didn’t take over Miranda’s body, just met with her mind.

“Please,” said Allie. “I need your help. And if you help me, I’ll tell you things—amazing things that no one in the living world knows, as long as you promise to keep it a secret.”

But Miranda just put her hands over her ears as if she could shut out Allie’s voice. “No! No! I’m not listening! Go away! Go away!”

“Why don’t you and I go for a walk?” Allie told her.

“I don’t want to go for a walk. I’ll exorcise you.” Then she rummaged through her jewelry drawer and came up with a little gold cross which she held out to herself in the mirror. When that didn’t work, she ran into the kitchen thinking, “I’ll get garlic and eat an entire bulb of it. Garlic scares away demons!”

“No,” Allie said calmly. “That’s vampires. And besides, you’re allergic to garlic.”

Miranda stopped short. “How do you know that?”

“Let’s just say we’re much closer friends than you think.” Then Allie sensed Miranda dredging up thoughts of silver bullets and stakes through the heart. Allie did her best to control her temper and remind herself that she was the one trespassing in this girl’s very personal space.

“Listen,” Allie told her. “We can do this the easy way, or we can do this the hard way.”

“What’s the hard way?” Miranda asked.

“This way.” And as smoothly as slipping into a bathrobe, Allie pushed herself forward and skinjacked Miranda, taking control of every muscle of her body—but didn’t put her to sleep. Miranda was awake, but now just a passenger in a body that Allie controlled.

“Now,” Allie told her out loud, “we are going out for a walk, and I promise you, I’ll tell you everything.”

They walked until after dark, but Allie was able to give Miranda control of her body after the first ten minutes. Miranda was a sensible girl. Once she realized that Allie meant her no harm and that having her own personal ghost was a really cool thing, Miranda agreed to their partnership.

Allie told her everything, just as she had promised: how a car crash had landed her and Nick in Everlost. How they found Mary and her “children” in the eternal towers. Allie told her about the awful monster called the McGill and the wonderful boy named Mikey who remained once the monster was gone. Then she told Miranda the dark secret behind the Benson High fire.

“I knew it,” Miranda said. “I knew that Fellon kid was innocent. I’m glad he escaped.” And then she gasped. While Allie was pretty good at keeping her mind separate from the people she skinjacked, she had let her guard down and Miranda caught a brief glimpse into Allie’s thoughts. She knew Allie had been the one who helped Seth Fellon escape, and it impressed her almost as much as it scared her. “You’re like a superhero,” Miranda said. “The Souler Eclipse.”

“Let’s not go there,” Allie said, because losing one’s humility was a dangerous thing for a skinjacker . . . although she had to admit she liked the name.

The next day, Miranda took the money she was saving for a new phone and bought a police scanner, which she listened to in all her free time, while Allie wandered the streets night and day looking for signs of Afterlights. Now every single police action, every single accident, every siren blare got their attention. There was no telling where the psycho-jackers would strike next or what nature of terror they would bring upon the living world. Then one night, the police scanner pulled in emergency chatter on more than a dozen different frequencies, calling all cars to the Regency Theater.

The police scanner had been a good idea, but it could only tell of things that had already happened, not what was about to happen. Allie and Miranda arrived at the scene an hour too late; the street outside the Regency theater was already blocked by police tape. Allie had never seen so many squad cars in one place. Or ambulances.

The theater’s marquis advertised a much-anticipated concert by teen singing sensation Rhoda Dakota . . . But Rhoda wasn’t singing anymore. In fact, she’d never sing in the living world again . . . but that wasn’t the half of it. Apparently there had been a combination of deadly “coincidences.” The fire sprinklers came on for no reason, hitting a damaged electrical line at the front of the stage. The short circuit should have tripped the circuit breakers, but somehow it didn’t, and the result was disastrous. The panicking crowd had raced out of the theater, but Rhoda and more than thirty fans never had a chance. News crews were already on the scene, and even the most jaded of reporters were fighting back tears.

“Go home,” Allie told Miranda. “There’s nothing you can do here.”

“What about you?” Miranda asked.

“I’ve got work to do.” And with that, she peeled out of Miranda.

In Everlost the chasing squad car lights were muted, and the voices of emergency workers faint. Allie raced into the theater, but there was no sign of the culprits. They were long gone, leaving only carnage and deadspots—so many deadspots—and each one marked the place where someone’s life had ended.

“Who would do this?” Allie said furiously, knowing that no one was there to answer her. But someone did.

“Us,” said the voice of a young girl. “We would do it.”

Allie turned to see a single Afterlight there, standing all alone in the center aisle. She couldn’t have been any older than seven or eight when she crossed.

“He said Mary wanted us to, but I don’t believe it. Ever since Mary found me in the playground, and took me up in her silver balloon, she’s been nice to me. She would never do such a horrible thing.”

Well, obviously this girl hadn’t been watching when Mary had her skinjackers blow up the bridge—but this wasn’t the time to argue.

“I know you’re Allie the Outcast, but I don’t care. If you do something terrible to me, maybe I deserve it anyway.”

But Allie just took the girl into her arms and held her. Allie never considered herself the motherly type, but this girl needed someone to comfort her from the things she had seen, and maybe the things she had done.

“What’s your name?” Allie asked.

“They call me Lacey.”

Allie could see why. Her shoelaces were untied and must have been that way since arriving in Everlost.

“What happened here, Lacey?”

Lacey closed her eyes. “He told us to do it.”

Although Allie already knew the answer, she had to ask, “Who told you?”

“Milos,” she said. Now it was Allie’s turn to close her eyes and swallow the news. To think that once, she had trusted him. To think that once, she had even been attracted to him. But how could she know way back then, that this type of darkness was lurking inside his heart? How could she know he could become a . . . She couldn’t even say the word. So, holding on to Lacey almost as desperately as Lacey held on to her, Allie asked, “Why?”

“Because we need more,” Lacey said. “More and more and more. That’s what he says.”

“More what?”

And for the first time, Lacey looked her right in the eyes, as if trying to read something there. “More of us,” she said. “More Afterlights. They don’t glow like Afterlights—not yet anyway—but they will once they wake up.”

When the truth hit Allie, it hit with force enough to pound her halfway to the center of the earth, and it might have too, if she wasn’t standing on a deadspot.

More Afterlights . . .

Now it all made sense in a horrible, twisted way.

“Milos and Moose and Squirrel make them cross, then we’re supposed to grab them before they disappear,” Lacey told Allie. “We grab them, and hold them, and then they fall asleep—but I don’t think it’s right.”

Allie knew on some level this had to be Mary’s idea, but she couldn’t tell Lacey that. Allie had seen into Mary’s mind. She had seen that this was only a fraction of what Mary truly wished to unleash upon the living world. Had Milos seen her mind too? Was he now some sort of dark apostle?

“How many?” Allie asked Lacey. “How many kids have you . . . have you . . . taken?”

“We’ve reaped almost two hundred, but there’s gonna be more,” Lacey said. “A lot more.” Allie shivered. It was almost as if she had flesh herself.

“I’m going to hell!”

Lacey cried. “No,” Allie said. “It’s not your fault. And besides, you’re never going to do it again, are you?”

Lacey looked up to her with wet eyes and shook her head.

“Well,” said Allie, “the decision to stop has got to count for something, right?”

Lacey didn’t seem convinced, but nodded anyway.

Allie told Lacey she had to go back to Milos. She didn’t want to send her back, but she knew that if Lacey was missed, it could make Milos suspicious. “You’ll be a spy,” Allie told her. “A double agent. Just don’t tell anyone, and you’ll be fine.” And then Allie asked the million-dollar question. “Do you know where they’re going to strike next?”

“Yes,” Lacey said, then looked sadly down at her own dangling laces. “It’s happening next Friday,” she told Allie. “In a playground.”