Текст книги "Everwild"

Автор книги: Neal Shusterman

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If only Mary were a skinjacker, he thought. Ah well, one can't have everything. Besides, if Mary were a skinjacker, she wouldn't have any need for Milos, so perhaps it was better this way.

And she did need him–she said so herself–but there were many levels of need. Milos had had his heart broken one too many times. This time would be different. Somehow he would find a way to be everything Mary needed, as indispensable as air to the living. As permanent as Everlost itself. PART FOUR Way of the Chocolate Warrior In her most recent book, What You Don't Know Can Most Certainly Hurt You, Mary Hightower writes:

"It would be untrue to say Everlost is entirely free from illness and disease. Our flesh is gone, but in our beings, seeds of our own doom remain. That which was small will grow. That which was once insignificant can devour us. There are cancers beyond those of our mortal bodies. I consider them punishments for unwholesome deeds and wrongful thinking. The Chocolate Ogre serves as a perfect example, for whose thinking can be more wrong than his, and whose affliction could be more unpleasant?"

CHAPTER 20 The Great Train Robbery

A large vapor of Afterlights gathered to watch the festivities in the old train yards of Chattanooga, Tennessee. It was the most exciting thing to happen here in recent memory. It began with the arrival of the Chocolate Ogre, and rumor was that he was going to perform some sort of magic trick.

A team of ten Afterlights, supervised by the Ogre himself, took a rope, and tied it around the waist of a kid in a Confederate Army uniform.

It was, of course, Zinnia.

"Let's not make this a show," Nick told her. "Let's just get this done."

"S'already a show," Zin pointed out, "best milk it for all it's worth."

Zin concentrated and thrust her ripping-hand out of Everlost, and into the living world just as easily as if she were shoving her hand into water. "Ooh" and "ahh" went the crowd. Then, through the tiny portal into the living world, Zin grabbed the rusted coupling of a living-world train car, springing it closed on her forearm, like a bear trap. They had chosen an Amtrak passenger car–an older one, because it was the only uncoupled passenger car they could find.

Once she was sure her arm was firmly snagged in the coupler, she turned to her team. "All right, y'all know the drill. One, two, three, pull!"

The other ten Afterlights behind her began to pull on the rope which was still tied around her waist. Nick watched, but couldn't participate, because these days everything he touched became too slippery to hold on to.

The team of ten strained as they pulled on Zin with all their strength, and with her arm still firmly caught in the coupler, her body lifted off the ground. A living body might have been torn in half by such a thing, but not an Afterlight. Instead, Zin withstood the force, and the solitary train car began to move. Getting it moving was the hard part. Once it was moving, the small hole in space which at first had been just large enough for Zin's hand, now stretched like elastic, until the entire passenger car was moving through the portal, out of the living world, and into Everlost.

The crowd could not contain their excitement as they watched the blurry, faded train car resolve bit by bit into sharp focus, and fill with the bright hues of chrome, rust, and colorful graffiti.

Once the train car was through, the portal collapsed, sealing closed with a pop. The team of haulers dropped their rope, and scattered as the car rolled off onto a side track that no longer existed, rolling toward the last car of the Everlost train.

"Tha's right," complained Zin, as the Amtrak car continued to roll. "Just leave me stuck here to get smashed in the coupler again!" Nick grinned, and yelled, "That's half the fun, Zin!" Still, he went to free her.

He couldn't move as quickly as he used to–chocolate dripping onto his feet had made them heavy–but fortunately the train wasn't rolling all that fast. He caught up with the rolling car, jumped on the coupler, and used his chocolate-covered left hand to grease the coupler. Zin wriggled her arm free just in time, and they both hopped off just as the Amtrak car hit, and coupled with the last car of the Everlost train, sending a shudder through every coupling down to the engine. The newborn passenger car was now a part of their train, and in the engine, Charlie tooted the whistle to mark their success. The crowd of gawking Afterlights cheered.

"How does it feel to be everyone's hero?" Nick asked Zin.

"I still miss my rocket ship, sir." But Nick could tell she was enjoying the adoration far more than the isolation she had lived in for so many years.

Their train, which had started with just three cars, now had nine–each added by Zin one at a time over the past few weeks. This did not go unnoticed in the living world– although Nick found out quite by accident.

Johnnie-O, who was attempting to teach Zin how to read, made Zin rip various newspapers and magazines from the living world. Johnnie-O, who was now in perpetual nicotine withdrawal, was the world's most impatient teacher, and Zin was the world's most ungrateful student. Every day they would verbally abuse each other for an hour, not much of anything would be learned, and yet the next day, both of them would come back for more. One day Johnnie-O came to Nick with a copy of The World Weekly Herald– a tabloid with questionable news. "I think you'd better read this," Johnnie-O told him. On page two, a headline read SOUTHERN PACIFIC RAILROAD SUES PARALLEL UNIVERSE. The article spoke of train cars gone missing from Southern train yards with no explanation– and a promise by one railroad line to take matters into its own hands ... but since the headline right next to it read A LIEN BABY DEVOURS AREA 51, Nick really wasn't concerned. Besides, the living world had bigger things to worry about than missing train cars, anyway. And so did Everlost.

Nick had not heard news of Mary Hightower for quite a while, and he couldn't help but worry what kind of mischief she was up to. If Mary had her way, all the world's Afterlights would be trapped in her smothering embrace, and no doubt she was still working toward that end. She had to be stopped at all costs, and Nick had a plan to do it.

That plan depended on Zinnia.

It had been more than a month since wrangling her in at Cape Canaveral.

"I gots no use for you!" she had told Nick and Johnnie-O that first day, as they made their way back through the Florida forests to the train. "But now that ya blowed up my artillery, I gots no use for myself, neither."

Charlie had been waiting with the train, and was more than happy to stay in the conductor's booth rather than have any dealings whatsoever with an ecto-ripper. Johnnie-O, on the other hand, would keep taunting her, until she would rip out some random part of his anatomy, threatening to feed it to Kudzu, and he'd have to chase her to get it back. Johnnie-O did this so often, Nick was convinced that he actually liked it.

Their first challenge was Atlanta–and Nick knew if he failed there, there'd be little hope after that.

When they rolled back into the Atlanta Underground many weeks ago, the crowd of Afterlights that had been so threatening the first time still came out with their bats and their bricks, but this time it was just for show. They were more curious than anything. Word had gotten around that the Chocolate Ogre was looking for Zach the Ripper, which meant he probably wouldn't be coming back. The fact that he had actually returned elevated him to Monster Supreme in their eyes. Everybody wanted to know what he had found in the Florida Everwilds.

Nick had not planned to reveal Zin right away. He knew the Atlanta Afterlights needed to be prepared. But Zin–to whom common sense was a limp afterthought– made herself known even before the train rolled to a stop. She took one look at the Atlanta kids, then poked her head out of a window, and shouted at them, "If you throw them bricks at me, I swear I'll rip out parts a' ya y'didn't even know ya had! See if I don't!" And then to prove it, she reached over to Johnnie-O and ripped his memory of a spleen, holding it out the window.

"Don't you drop that, ya stupid inbred freak!" yelled Johnnie-O.

Since Johnnie-O had no idea what a spleen looked like, his memory of it more closely resembled a Polish sausage than anything else. Even so, it inspired terror in the crowd. They all dropped their weapons, scattering in abject fear, and yelling, "It's Zach the Ripper! It's Zach the Ripper!"

Johnnie-O pulled her away from the window, retrieving his Polish spleen, but it was too late to stop panic from spreading through the mob.

"Great," Nick groaned. "Why don't you rip out your own brain and give yourself one that works?"

Zin was unfazed. "Yer just mad cuz your chocolate don't scare 'em as much as I do!"

"You had better start listening to me!" Nick put his finger in her face, and, of course, she bit it.

"Sorry, sir," she said, all nasty grin, "but I thought yer hand was one a' them chocolate Easter bunnies."

Johnnie-O let out a guffaw, and Nick glared at him. "Sorry," Johnnie-O said. "It does kinda look like that sometimes."

Nick decided to use a different tack. "Soldier! Your behavior is disgraceful for a sergeant of the Chocolate Brigade."

"Sergeant?" said Zin. "I thought you said I was a private."

"Not anymore." He reached over and painted a chocolate chevron on her sleeve. "You're a sergeant now, and I expect you to act like one."

Zin was overjoyed. "Yes, sir!"

"And if you follow orders and do your job to the best of your ability, you might even make lieutenant."

"Yes, sir! What are my orders, sir?"

Nick had suspected she might be more motivated by responsibility than by threats. "Your orders are not to do anything unless I tell you to," he said.

"Good luck," grunted Johnnie-O. Then he asked what rank he got to be. Nick told him he was special ops, which suited Johnnie-O just fine. Five minutes later, Isaiah, the kid who ran Atlanta, showed up, just as Nick knew he would. He barged right onto the train.

"What in the hell do you think you're doing?" he demanded. His sudden appearance and threatening tone of voice set Kudzu barking, and hiding behind Zin. Nick thought about sending Zin away, but decided it was best if she stayed in his sight. Instead he told Johnnie-O to check on Charlie. "He might be in need of some special ops right about now."

Johnnie-O left, but not before matching Isaiah's glare. With Johnnie-O gone, it was no longer three against one, but the tension didn't drop in the slightest.

Isaiah looked at Zin, then back to Nick again. Nick could tell he was afraid, but he hid his fear behind anger. "You take that thing and you get it out of Atlanta. Now."

"Who's he calling a thing?" growled Zin.

Nick firmly clasped Zin's shoulder with his chocolate-free hand. "Remember your orders," he said under his breath. Zin bit her lip–literally–as if the only way for her to shut her mouth was to clamp her bottom lip between her teeth.

It was then that Nick realized that Zin was a double whammy. Not only had he brought "Zach the Ripper," but he had brought a Confederate soldier into a city run by a kid who may very well have suffered the life of a slave when he was alive.

"Her name is Zinnia," Nick told him, "and she means you no harm."

"You mean to tell me that thing is a girl?"

Zinnia bristled, but kept her mouth shut. "She's a ripper and she's here to help all of us."

"I don't care what she can do–I don't need help from someone wearin' the gray."

Then Zinnia took a few steps forward. Nick tried to stop her, but she shrugged him off. So much for obeying orders.

"I don't recollect all that much 'bout my life," she said, "but I do know I didn't join the war to protect slavery. I did it to protect my family–and I'd take off this here uniform if I could, but I can't any more than you can take off those torn pants and rope belt. We's all stuck with what we wore, but not with what we were."

Isaiah still looked angry, but he didn't respond. He just waited to see if there was any more to her defense. To Nick's surprise, there was.

"The way I sees it," said Zin, "there ought not to be problems with skin color in Everlost, cuz Afterlights ain't got no skin, technically speakin', right?"

Isaiah nodded. "I'll do you one better than that," he said. "Hold out your arm."

Zinnia held her arm out, and Isaiah held out his right beside hers. "See that?" he said. "Our glow is exactly the same."

"Yeah, how 'bout that!"

"You remember that," said Isaiah, "and maybe I won't have to run you out of town."

"Fair enough," said Zin.

Now that their peace had been made, Isaiah turned to Nick. "So are you just passing through again, or is there something you want from us?"

And that's when the real work began.

CHAPTER 21 Let 'Er Rip

Winning over the Atlanta Afterlights was a delicate matter, as painstaking, as ... well ... the making of chocolate. Too hot and it would burn, too cool, and it would lump. With Isaiah's reluctant permission, Nick introduced Zin to all the Atlanta Afterlights. There were almost four hundred of them. Once more they filled the streets of the Atlanta underground– this time without weapons.

As they gathered, Nick stood patiently with an impatient Zin. Johnnie-O and Charlie provided security, keeping space between them and the curious crowd.

"If things get out of hand, do I got permission to knock some heads?" Johnnie-O asked.

"Absolutely not," Nick told him.

"You're no fun," he grumbled.

When all of Atlanta was there, Isaiah came up to Nick. "Do I introduce you as Nick, Nicholas, or the Chocolate Ogre?"

Nick's instinct was to simply go by Nick, plain and simple–but if Mary was the Sky Witch, how could he hope to be taken seriously if he was just "Nick"?

"Go with the Ogre," he told Isaiah. Mary had invented the name as a smear tactic. Well, it was time he used it to his advantage.

Isaiah raised his hand to get everyone's attention, and in a few moments the murmuring crowd quieted down. "Hey y'all, everybody," he said, in an informal, yet commanding voice. "This here is the Chocolate Ogre, as I'm sure you already know. I've checked him out, and he's okay. He wants to talk to you, so listen up–and don't make him mad, or he'll turn you into chocolate chips or something."

Nick cleared his throat twice. He was nervous, and whenever he was nervous his throat clogged with chocolate.

"Afterlights of Atlanta," Nick began. "I come in friendship ... and to prove it, I would like to present to you Zinnia the Ripper!"

"Zinnia?" said some kid in the crowd. "Like the flower?"

"Shut yer trap!" said Zin.

Nick pushed on. "I know you've all heard bad things about the ripper–just like you've heard bad things about me. Well, I'm here to set you straight. The ripper's not going to rip anyone's guts out–"

"I could if I wanted to," said Zin, and Kudzu seconded it with a bark and growl.

"Right," Nick said, throwing her a secret scowl. "But the ripper uses her powers for good." Nick took a moment to let that sink in, then he continued. "We all know that there aren't many things that cross into Everlost–and when things do cross, they get picked up by finders, who charge an arm and a leg for everything. Well, forget about finders– because if there's something you want, the ripper can get it for you!"

Nick knew he was sounding like an infomercial, but at least he had their undivided attention. He glanced to Isaiah, whose arms were folded, not yet impressed by the show.

"I need a volunteer!" Nick said.

No one came forward at first, then a young girl was pushed out in front by her friends. She looked terrified. Johnnie-O escorted her the rest of the way, and she stared bug-eyed at his huge hand which was gripping her elbow.

"Don't worry," Nick said to the girl quietly, "this is a good thing." Then he spoke loudly enough for the crowd to hear. "Tell me something you're longing for. Something you truly feel you deserve, that you've never had here in Everlost."

The girl looked up at him with wide, hopeful eyes. "A hot fudge sundae?"

Zin laughed. "Y'already got one! He's standing right in front a' ya!"

Only Charlie and Johnnie-O laughed. Everyone else was waiting for Nick to turn Zin into a pile of chocolate chips. Nick turned to Isaiah. "Where in living Atlanta could we find a hot fudge sundae?"

"I know just the place."

Isaiah led them to the World of Coca-Cola, one of Atlanta's biggest tourist attractions–a veritable cathedral of carbonated caffeination. Inside was a restaurant that featured all things Coca-Cola–such as ice-cream floats made with Coke instead of root beer, and Coke syrup sundaes.

The crowd of Afterlights followed Isaiah, Nick, and Zin right through the outer wall, and into the café. The place was packed with the living–there was a field trip of students all in neon yellow shirts laying siege to the counter, and ice cream was being dished up by four soda jerks who couldn't move fast enough.

"The ripper will now ecto-rip a sundae right before your very eyes!" said Nick, sounding like a carnival barker, and enjoying it.

The crowd of Afterlights all craned their necks to see, and shifted their feet to keep from sinking. The effect was a weird bobbing of several hundred heads.

Nick zeroed in on a silver bowl that had just been filled with three scoops of strawberry ice cream. The soda-jerk was about to douse it in Coke syrup, proving that some combinations really ought to be illegal.

"Quick," he said to Zin, "rip it before it's too late."

Zin shoved her ripping-hand forward into the living world, and the crowd of Afterlights buzzed with excitement. In one smooth move, Zin grabbed the ice-cream bowl, and tugged it out of the living world into Everlost. The soda jerk never saw it happen–and when he emptied his syrup ladle, Coke syrup spilled all over the marble counter. He looked at the counter for a moment in dumb confusion, then he glanced at the other soda jerks and said, "Okay, who's the joker?"

"It just disappeared!" said a living redheaded kid sitting at the counter in front of him. "It disappeared right into thin air! A hand reached out of nowhere and took it!"

"Shut up, Ralphy," said the kid next to him, and that was that. The soda jerk sighed, and made another sundae, not caring enough about the mystery to unravel it.

Zin, with the ripped bowl of ice cream in her hands, held it out to the girl, who was already licking her lips.

"No," said Nick. "Not yet."

Then he held his hand over the ice cream, squeezed his hand into a fist, and dribbled a hefty amount of chocolate over the ice cream.

"Ew!" shouted several voices in the crowd, sounding both delighted and disgusted at the same time.

"There," Nick said. "A hot fudge sundae."

The girl and her friends didn't wait for spoons to be ripped–they devoured it with their hands.

"So," said Isaiah, "the Chocolate Ogre isn't a monster ... he's a thief."

Nick didn't deny it. He had thought long and hard about what it meant to rip things from the living world, but he ultimately decided that the needs of Everlost outweighed the needs of the living. "Ever hear of Robin Hood?" he said to the crowd, as much as to Isaiah.

"Sure–he robbed from the rich and gave to the poor."

"Well," said Nick, "the living are rich, whether they know it or not. The way I see it, we deserve a small share of the world that was stolen from us."

Isaiah didn't say he agreed, but he didn't disagree, either.

"Okay," said Nick. "Who's next?"

Almost every hand went up, with shouts of "Me! Me! Me!"

Nick turned to Isaiah. "Get me a list of ten reasonable requests, and we'll see what we can do." * * *

Nick counted on Isaiah to weed out the needy from the greedy, and Nick wasn't disappointed.

"About half of them wanted you to rip them a pet," Isaiah said, when he brought the list of requests to the parlor car. He glanced at Kudzu, who had busied himself licking the chocolate off everything in sight–poison for a living dog, but not a problem for an Afterlight canine.

"I was worried that might happen," Nick said. "What did you tell them?"

"I told them that ripping dogs and cats right out of their lives wouldn't be right."

"I only done it once," Zin told him, glancing at Nick a little sheepishly. "Kudzu here was bein' beaten by his owner. Had to save him from that, and rippin' him was the only way."

Hearing his name, the dog came over, and rolled onto his back, waiting for a belly rub. Isaiah obliged. "Beatin' a dog! You shoulda ripped his owner's heart clear out while you were at it."

"I did!" said Zin. Then she waffled. "Well, I almost did. I mean, I woulda done it, but the dog was watchin'. Couldn't let him see that, could I?"

Kudzu purred like a kitten as Isaiah rubbed his belly. "Sure is one funny-lookin' pooch." Then he stood up and handed Nick the list. "Here you go–ten reasonable requests. Let's see what the girl can do."

The requests that Isaiah passed along were all well-chosen, and although it took some time, they were doable. A saxophone and a guitar for two kids who hadn't played since the day they each crossed over. The sixth Harry Potter book, which, for some reason, was the only one that never crossed into Everlost. A Bible–which often did cross–but the request was for one in Portugese. Zin ripped an art set for a girl who had brushes, but no paint, a big sixty-four box of Crayolas for the younger kids, and a pair of glasses for a kid whose eyesight was as bad in Everlost as it was in life. The remaining requests were for desperately needed sports equipment. Nick was surprised that Isaiah didn't pass along any more food orders, but as it turned out, Isaiah had his reasons.

Once all ten requests had been fulfilled, Isaiah called Nick in for a private meeting. Isaiah's quarters were comfortable but modest, behind an unassuming storefront in Underground Atlanta. He lived no better than any of the kids in his care, although he did have a bit more room. There was a bed that was probably just for show, since most Afterlights–especially leaders–didn't sleep. There was a Formica table from the 1950s, an orange leather sofa probably from the seventies, and several fragile-looking round-backed chairs that looked like something Nick's grandmother might have owned. Nick made a mental note to have Zin rip Isaiah a respectable furniture set.

Nick sat on the sofa, figuring it would be the least likely to be left with permanent chocolate stains, and Isaiah sat across from him in one of the grandma chairs.

"I've let you have your fun," Isaiah said. "Now I want to know what you want from us."

Nick knew there was a fine line between a gift and a bribe. He could only hope that he was still on the right side of that line. "I would have ripped all those things for your Afterlights, without getting anything in return," he told Isaiah. "But you're right–there are a couple of things I'd like to ask you for."

"You can ask," said Isaiah, "but it doesn't mean I'm gonna give."

Nick cleared his throat so that his speech lost that thick chocolatey tone. "First I need information. I need to know about other Afterlights in other towns and cities in the South. I need numbers if you have them, and what those Afterlights are like–are they friends or enemies? Are they easy to deal with, or should they be avoided? You know– that kind of thing."

"Fine," said Isaiah. "I'll tell you what I know about the South." The chair creaked as Isaiah leaned back in it. "But that's not all you want, is it?"

Nick took a moment. This one wouldn't be as easy. He tried to sit up as straight as he could in the low-slung sofa, and looked Isaiah in the eye.

"I'd like fifty of your Afterlights."

Isaiah's expression became so stony, the features of his face actually seemed changed. "They're not for sale," he growled.

"No–that's not what I mean." Nick said. "Mary Hightower is a threat to all of us, and I can guarantee you that she's building an army. Which means I need to build one too. So I'm asking you for fifty volunteers. Only those who want to go–I don't want to force anyone."

Isaiah took his time to think about it. "I don't like it," he said. "I don't like it one bit ... but I do get the feeling that living under the Sky Witch would be a whole lot worse."

Nick leaned forward. "Will you do it, then? Will you ask for volunteers?"

"If I give it my blessing, you'll get your volunteers," Isaiah said. "But it's gonna take more than 'ten reasonable requests,' from the Ripper to get my blessing."

"All right, then–what?"

What Isaiah asked for was a feast. A Christmas feast for his entire vapor, regardless of the fact that it was the summer. Nick supposed that in a timeless world, each day could be whatever day you wanted it to be.

"Everyone knows how hard it is to find food that's crossed over," Isaiah pointed out. "You saw how they acted when they saw that ice cream. Coulda had a riot if I wasn't there to keep the peace." Isaiah indicated a little jar in the corner that held just one unbroken fortune cookie. "Mostly we get those damn fortune cookies–and when it's a bad fortune, no one'll even eat the crumbs."

"So," asked Nick, who knew more than anyone that every Everlost fortune was true, "was your last fortune a good one, or a bad one?"

Isaiah raised his eyebrows. "At first I thought it was bad, but maybe it's turning halfway decent."

"What did it say?"

Isaiah gave him the slightest hint of a grin. "It said 'Embrace the bittersweet'."

The feast took some time to arrange, and since all the ripping effort was Zin's, it exhausted her–but she was a trooper. Nick had her rip a smorgasbord of edible items from dozens upon dozens of restaurants, markets, and homes.

"Why cain't I go to some big ole' banquet hall," Zin asked, "and rip all the food from there?"

"That would be easier," Nick admitted, "but it would also be obnoxious. If we have to steal hundreds of meals from the living, we should spread it out–so that no one feels the cost of what they've lost."

It was obvious that Zin cared little for the living and their loss. The concept of "responsible ripping" was foreign to her. Fortunately, in her many years in Everlost, her designs were never so grand that her ripping created major problems for the living. Unless you count all the missing artillery.

In the end, Zin did what she was told, and asked if this earned her a raise in her military rank. Nick told her a good soldier never asks.

It took three days, working round the clock, to rip enough food to feed the Afterlights of Atlanta, but it was worth the effort. Nick had to admit, when they gathered for the meal, he'd never seen a group of Afterlights so joyful and so content. Whether he got his militia or not, he was glad to have done this.

When all was said and done, and everyone had eaten until they were satisfied, Isaiah asked for volunteers for Nick's army. "Someone's gotta stand up to the Sky Witch," Isaiah told them. "And we gotta do our share."

Nick had asked for fifty–and he ended up with almost eighty–which posed a logistical problem, since the train had only an engine, a parlor car, and a single passenger car. That's when Zin, to everyone's amazement, had ripped her first train car from the living world.

Isaiah was true to his word, and just before they left, he gave them pretty good intelligence as to where they could find friendly Afterlights, and which ones should probably be avoided. He also gave Nick a word of friendly, heartfelt advice.

"You need to remember who you were," Isaiah told him. "Because more and more you got that mud-pie look about you. There's more chocolate on your shirt–it's even getting into your hair now. I gotta say, it worries me."

"We can't choose what we remember," Nick said, repeating what Mary had once told him, "but I'll try."

"Well, I wish you all the luck in both worlds," Isaiah said. Then, as a gesture of friendship, they put their hands together, and crushed Isaiah's one unbroken fortune cookie between their palms.

Their fortune read, "Luck is the poorest of strategies."

While Isaiah might have felt insulted, Nick took this as evidence that he was doing the right thing–preparing for his confrontation with Mary as best he could.

That was more than a month ago. Since leaving Atlanta, Nick and his train had zigzagged from town to town, city to city, on any dead rails that would get them there.

"I'd rip us fresh train tracks," Zin said, "but I can only rip things I can actually move."

The "mud-pie" look that Isaiah had spoken of was even more pronounced than before–so much so that Nick had taken the mirror in the parlor car, and spread his chocolate hand back and forth across it until it was too thick with the stuff to show his reflection. He had work to do, and thinking about himself, well, it was just a distraction.

Based on what Isaiah had told him, they traveled to more than a dozen towns and cities in Georgia and the Carolinas, bringing in volunteers everywhere they went. Zin had become a whiz at dazzling audiences with the items she ripped right before their eyes, and once they were wide-eyed with wonder, Nick offered them a feast without being asked, because if there was one thing that was universal in Everlost, it was the absence of, and the craving for, a good meal.

By the time they reached Chattanooga, Tennessee, and added that ninth train car, Nick's anti-Mary fighting force numbered nearly four hundred.

"It's good to be part of an army again," Zin told Nick, as they headed south toward Birmingham, Alabama. "I've been waitin' halfway to forever for someone to fight."

"We fight because we have to," Nick told her. "We fight because it's the right thing to do, not because we want to."

"Speak for yourself," Zin said. "Everybody's gots their own reasons for the things they do. Alls that matters is that your reasons and mine carry the same flag."

"We don't have a flag," Nick pointed out.

"I could make one."

"Just as long as it's not Confederate."

Zin thought about it. "Whacha say I rip some fabric into Everlost, and come up with sumpin' brand spankin' new?"