Текст книги "Everwild"

Автор книги: Neal Shusterman

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"What do you think you're doing?" Pugsy shouted.

Milos was way too calm. "We are having a meeting. I am so glad you could come."

As Milos was a Ruskie, Pugsy hated him on principal. It was Mary who had convinced him that Milos could be trusted. Well, Mary would get an earful for this!

He tried to stand but his legs were tied too tightly. "All three of you have just bought yourself a place on the mantel." Which was one of Pugsy's pet expressions for a trip to the center of the earth–along with "earning core time" and "sleeping with the magma."

"Look around you, and think again," said Milos. Pugsy glanced around, and instantly knew exactly where he was. This was what he affectionately called "the submarine terminal." It was an Everlost dock on Lake Michigan where he would dispatch unwanted Afterlights into the "dirty deep," yet another pet name for the center of the earth. In fact, right now, there were three others bound and gagged, with cinder blocks tied to their ankles. He would have thought the work was done by his bodyguards. Except that they were his bodyguards. Now Pugsy began to worry.

"Tell me," said Milos, "how many are the Afterlights you have thrown from this dock?"

"I don't know," said Pugsy nervously. "I don't keep count."

"Guess."

"Throw him off! Throw him off!" shrieked Squirrel, but Milos threw him a gaze that shut him up.

"I said guess."

"Uh, maybe, a hundred? Two hundred?"

"Just as I thought." Milos nodded to the other two, and they lifted up one of Pugsy's boys, then tossed him off the dock.

"No!" screamed Pugsy.

Then Milos knelt down to him. "I have grown tired of you," he said. "So I am now inviting you to leave Chicago. I am inviting you to leave alone, and to leave now."

"What are you, nuts?"

Milos nodded to the others again, and they sent the second of Pugsy's bodyguards off to the dirty deep.

"You have thirty seconds to accept my invitation."

"Mary!" said Pugsy. "Go get Mary! She'll negotiate for me. She'll give you whatever you want!"

The other two laughed, and Milos whispered to him, "Mary is the reason we are all here on this fine evening." He signaled the other two, and they hurled Pugsy's last bodyguard off for serious core time. Then they dragged a cinder block to Pugsy, and tied it around his ankles.

"Okay, okay, okay, I see you mean business! So I'll tell you what. You can untie me, and I'll leave, just like you asked. I'll leave right now and I'll never come back. Okay? Just like you asked, okay?"

Milos gave Pugsy a satisfied smile. Then he said, "I'm sorry, but I cannot hear you."

"What?"

"You have ten seconds."

"I said I'll leave! I'll leave!"

"Sorry, your answer must be in Russian."

"I don't speak Russian!"

"Five seconds."

"I'll leave-ski Chicago-ski!"

"Time's up." He nodded to Moose and Squirrel. "Goodbye, Pugsy."

"Nooooooo!"

Pugsy was lighter than the other three, so he flew much farther before hitting the lake. He quickly plunged through the living-world water, as thin to him as air, and then passed into the lake bed, toward his place on–or rather in–the mantel. As he sunk deeper and deeper into the earth, he could only hope that when he reached the center, he wouldn't come across anyone he sent there himself.

The following day, all the Afterlights of Chicago were called for a town meeting–the first such meeting since Pugsy announced his partnership with Mary some weeks ago. Now Mary stood on the same balcony, looking out over the crowd. This time, however, Pugsy was absent. Instead she stood with Speedo beside her. Milos was there, too, but he lingered in the background, along with a silently aggravated Jackin' Jill.

"You shouldn't be up here at all," Jill told Milos. "I earned the right to be here, but what have you done?"

"Not much," Milos told her. "Just what was necessary."

She was unimpressed. "Where's Pugsy?" asked Jill, glancing around. "He's never late when he calls a town meeting."

"Pugsy did not call it," Milos said casually.

At the front of the balcony Mary looked down on the crowd. Speedo, having been a finder, was still intimidated by large vapors of Afterlights. Finders were usually hunted down by such mobs, accused of unfair trading. It didn't help that he was eternally in a wet bathing suit, displaying a bare belly in a pasty shade of pale. He could never get used to being Mary's right-hand man–and he suspected she was now grooming Milos for the position. Speedo, who had no desire for power beyond the horsepower of an airship engine, would be more than happy to slip into the background when the time came–and he hoped it came soon.

"Look at all of them," said Mary. "It hardly seems appropriate to call them a 'vapor of Afterlights' anymore."

"More like an entire cloud," suggested Speedo.

"A cumulus!" said Mary, delighted with herself. "A cumulus of Afterlights!"

Their numbers had indeed grown. A census upon Mary's arrival revealed there to be 783 Afterlights in Chicago, including the ones she brought with her. But once word got out that Mary had settled in for an extended stay, stray Afterlights began to wander in to the Columbian Exhibition grounds–more each day. Those, plus the new arrivals waking into Everlost for the first time, brought their numbers close to a thousand now.

Nick had stolen from her more than a thousand souls. Now she had them back, and with Pugsy gone, she didn't have to share them with anyone. This was truly a day for celebration.

"Afterlights of Chicago," she announced to the crowd. "It is with the utmost of mixed feelings that I must announce that Pugsy Capone has chosen to leave us."

The crowd murmured in excitement, mingled with doubt.

"He has decided to travel, and has taken a permanent leave of absence. I'm sure you all join me in wishing him everything he deserves, wherever his journey takes him."

It began as a smattering of applause, that grew into cheers, as the crowd realized exactly what Mary was telling them.

"As Pugsy will not be coming back, I am pleased to accept the position as Governess of Chicago." The cheers reached a fever pitch. "Listen to them, Speedo!" Mary whispered. "Do you see how happy they are to finally be freed!"

"Where did Pugsy go?" Speedo asked her.

"Milos was so kind as to convince him to leave." She turned back to give Milos a much-earned smile. "It's probably best if we don't know the details, don't you agree?"

Mary turned back to the crowd and resumed addressing them. "Since my arrival, there have been many changes here, and there will be many more to come. My goal is to bring your quality of death to the highest possible level. Many of you have found your own "special activity" to make each and every day your personal perfect day. For those of you still searching, my door is always open. I pledge to help you in every way I can."

The crowd seemed a bit less enthusiastic at the prospect of a gloriously repetitive eternity, but that was all right. They would come to see the wisdom of Mary's way. They always did.

Milos was called for an audience with Mary in her Promenade. He assumed it was a private audience. Milos already knew she spoke to no one else as candidly as she spoke to him. He had to believe that it meant something. That he meant something.

He came with a chilled bottle of champagne that he found in Pugsy's wine cellar mixed in with all the bottles of root beer, and two champagne flutes. When he arrived, however, he found the audience was anything but private.

"Milos, I'm glad you're here," Mary said, not even noticing the champagne. Speedo was there, and there was another Afterlight as well–one who Milos had never seen before. He sat in the red leather armchair–the one that used to be Pugsy's–and Mary was offering him candy from her private stash.

"He's one of Mary's long-distance scouts," Speedo explained, "and he just got back." Apparently he was an important player in Mary's war against "the forces of dark chocolate," as she liked to call it.

The boy then tilted his head back, opened his mouth, and closed his eyes. The others, who knew what was coming, ducked, just as the boy released an earth-shaking sneeze. Milos was the only one caught unawares, and was splattered with more unspeakable ecto-stuff than ought to be allowed in any universe.

"I'm sorry, Milos," said Mary. "I should have warned you. But every talent comes with its own stumbling block, and the Sniffer is no exception." She turned to the boy. "You really should cover your mouth when you sneeze."

"I know, but I always forget."

Speedo rose from the chair he had hidden behind, and threw a rag to Milos to clean himself, but it was much too small to do the job.

Mary was not bothered by the deluge–she would have someone clean it later. What mattered was the news the Sniffer brought back with him. And what news it was! "How marvelous! How absolutely marvelous!" she said after he told her what he had learned. It was exactly the information she needed. She now knew not only Nick's location, but the size of his vapor, and where he was going. And as for this "Ripper" he seemed to have acquired, how much damage could she do, really? The ripper was just one against a thousand.

Mary stood up, her plan already taking shape in her mind. She would see Nick again, and she would see him soon ... but it would be on her terms.

"Well, if the Chocolate Ogre has gone to Memphis to find Allie the Outcast, I think we should meet him there. A thousand of ours–against four hundred of his!"

Milos just stood there, a little shell-shocked by the sudden shift of direction. It was the first time she noticed he held a bottle of ... was that champagne?

Speedo, as always, was wary. "You had a thousand last time ... and you know what happened."

The memory only made Mary more determined. "Last time he went behind my back. So this time, we'll sneak behind his!"

"There's one more thing," the Sniffer said. "I smelled something ... nasty ... that was also moving toward Memphis. I'm not sure what it was, but if I didn't know better, I'd think it was the McGill."

It caught Mary off guard. She felt her afterglow sputter liked a burner low on gas. She hoped no one saw it. "The McGill no longer exists," she proclaimed. "In fact, he never did. Speedo! Make a note that I should point out the nonexistence of the McGill in my next book."

"Yes, Miss Mary."

And then she turned to Milos. He still stood there dripping with the Sniffer's unpleasantness. Even so, she found she wanted to embrace him, but restrained herself. "Milos, I asked you to be patient, and now your patience will be rewarded." Then she went to her bookshelf. "We will defeat the Ogre in Memphis, and from there we will begin our crusade to unite the East and the West." Mary ran her finger over the book spines, then pulled out the heavy volume on Civil Engineering.

Milos was amused. "Don't tell me–you wish me to build a bridge in your honor!"

"Not exactly." She held it out to him. "I want you to study this–because in this book are the blueprints for every bridge that crosses the Mississippi River."

"Yes, but these are all living-world bridges," Milos pointed out. "They are of no use to us."

Mary put the book firmly into his hands. "Come now, Milos," she said with a smile that, on anyone else but Mary Hightower, might be called wicked, "I think you're much smarter than that."

She sent Milos to clean up, and requested she meet him in the non-slimed Portside Promenade, on the opposite side of the ship, when he was done.

Milos was still reeling from this change in circumstance. All of them leaving Chicago, a war with the Chocolate Ogre, and the possibility of Allie being brought into the mix. But then this might not be a bad thing. This battle could provide him an opportunity to make himself truly indispensable to Mary. And what if Milos could bring Allie in–even if only as a prisoner? That would certainly win him huge points.

The Portside Promenade was a mirror image of the Starboard promenade, except that it still had the airship's original furniture. Mary told him she was planning to gut it, and turn it into a playroom for the younger children, but hadn't gotten around to it yet.

When Milos arrived, all squeaky-clean, Mary had already opened the champagne, and poured two glasses.

"I never usually consume spirits," Mary told him, "but I suppose we have a lot to celebrate."

Milos hesitated. "Consume spirits?"

"Drink alcohol," Mary explained. "What on earth did you think I meant?"

Milos just chuckled in his own embarrassment, which seemed to please her.

"Let's toast," she said. "What shall we toast to?"

"To the Governess of the East, and soon to be West," suggested Milos. "The beautiful catcher of lost souls."

Mary's thoughts seemed to darken when he said it, but she clinked glasses anyway. She took a sip, put her glass down, and strode away from him.

"Is something wrong?"

She paused, looking out of the window. "Saving the children of the world is not always an easy thing," she said. "But the end does justify the means, wouldn't you agree?"

"Sometimes, yes." Milos cautiously moved closer to her.

She still looked out of the window, a convenient way to avoid his gaze. "There's much work to do, but before we begin, there's something you need to know, and something I need to find out."

Then she offered him a confession.

"As much as I despise stepping out into the course of living events, there are times it must be done," she told him. "There is an appliance store not too far from here. In it are many of those television machines, and they often display the news of the day." She began to rub her arms as if she was cold. "I was there, in search of something in particular, and I found it. There was a report of a dreadful car accident– a terrible thing. Witnesses claimed that the driver actually swerved to hit pedestrians, but the driver claims to have no memory of it whatsoever. Imagine that."

Milos took a nervous sip of his champagne. "Strange things do happen in the living world."

"Yes, they do," agreed Mary. "But I don't think it was an accident at all. And I don't think the driver was himself that day."

Milos withheld his opinion. "And ... were any lives lost?"

"What a curious expression. How can a life be lost when you know exactly where it is?" Mary said. "Two children did leave the world of the living, if that's what you mean. The news was kind enough to show their photographs, but I had already seen their faces. Jill had brought them both into the incubator earlier that day. Of course they were asleep, but I still recognized them."

Finally she turned to him. "You knew, didn't you? Don't lie to me, Milos."

"I am truly sorry," was all Milos dared to say.

"Sorry that I found out, or sorry you didn't tell me that Jill's amulet was fake?"

He looked at the bubbles in his champagne, feeling all his hope begin to extinguish. Milos had no idea what Mary would do now. Would she throw him out? Would she have both him and Jill hurled off the pier to join Pugsy? Directness and honesty, thought Milos. That's what Mary respects. And so rather than wasting his breath trying to spin things to his favor, he simply told her the truth.

"I was afraid to tell you. I thought you might blame all skinjackers for what Jill was doing. I feared that you might send us away. That you might send me away. But I'm not like Jill... ."

And instead of throwing him out, Mary tapped her champagne glass very gently to his and said, "Do you really think I am so shortsighted as to let you go, Milos?" He didn't think he was supposed to answer, so he didn't. "It does change things, though," she said. "Since we don't have to wait for accidents, I can increase Jill's quota."

"Increase ... Jill's quota?" Milos was stunned.

"The more opportunities we have to save innocent children from the living world, the better, don't you agree?"

As Mary's words tumbled through Milos's mind, he knew there were two sides to which they could fall. The side of terror, or the side of wonder. He also instinctively knew that the choice he made now would define his entire afterlife–it was, in fact, the very focal point of his existence. Milos had always considered himself a good person at heart. Admittedly, he leaned toward serving his own best interests, but in an enlightened way–always in a way that helped others even as it helped himself.

"Milos, are you all right? Did you hear me?"

Terror or wonder? To which side would it fall? He still wasn't sure, yet he forced a smile, and took a step closer. "You never cease to amaze me," he said, which was true.

"I understand that skinjackers can't skinjack forever," Mary said, "and that Jill has been skinjacking much longer than you."

"Jill has been in Everlost for more than twenty years, I have been here for four," he told her. "I do not think she will be able to skinjack for much longer."

She looked at him a bit differently than before, as if she were searching his eyes, and Milos held the gaze, hoping she would find whatever she was looking for. "I know you're not like Jill," she said, "but there may come a time that I will need you to do what she does... ." They were standing close now. Close enough to be deep within each other's afterglow.

"If I asked you to, Milos, would you do it for me?"

He knew the question was coming, but he didn't want to believe she would ask it. There was no more hiding behind a gentle gaze and inscrutable eyes. He needed to make a choice. What Mary called "saving innocent children," would be called something very different in the living world. It would be called murder. Would he do that for Mary? Should he? His own words came back to him. "You should never be afraid to tell anyone 'no'," he had once told Allie–but if he said no to Mary, he would lose everything. He would lose her. Losing Mary was not an option for Milos, and once he realized that–once he realized what he truly wanted, the choice became clear.

"Would you do it, Milos? Would you do it if I asked?"

He took Mary's hand, and his afterglow blushed lavender. "Yes," he told her. "I would do anything for you."

332

333

PART SIX City of the Dead In her book Order First, Question Later, Mary Hightower offers us her personal insights on the art of war:

"To bring about order in a chaotic world, one must, on occasion, resort to large-scale conflict. Weaponry and the size of one's army are certainly factors–but far more important are brains and righteous convictions. In the living world it seems right-thinking people are often trampled beneath the filthy boots of impure ideas. However, I like to believe that, at least in Everlost, good will triumph over evil."

CHAPTER 31 On the Banks of Eternity

The city of Memphis is gone.

This once great river city–the very center of civilization–now lies in ruins, eternally buried by time and river silt. That is to say, the Egyptian city of Memphis, capital of ancient Egypt when that kingdom was at its height, over 3,000 years ago. The great palaces have crumbled, and the towering stone obelisks, once wonders of the upper and lower Nile, have fallen like trees, and now lay hidden beneath farmland.

Across the Nile river from Memphis, on its western bank, was the necropolis: the city of the dead, containing the tombs and burial chambers of Egypt. It seems all cultures respect the awesome and mystical nature of a great river–how it can divide life from death, here from there, known from unknown.

No one has ever accused Memphis, Tennessee, of being the center of civilization, although it does have its moments. It, too, lies on a great dividing river–a gateway to the West. At least it's a gateway in the living world. In Everlost, however, it is a city of relentless wind, and marks an inexplicable barrier to the West ... which makes it interesting to note that Memphis, Egypt, was also known as Ineb-hedj or "the White Wall."

To the living world, the kingdoms of Egypt are ancient history–because in the living world, even that which is considered permanent is always proven to be temporary. To the living, eternity is a concept, not a reality–and yet they know it exists.

The living do not see eternity, just as they don't see Everlost, but they sense both in ways that they don't even know. They don't feel the Everlost barrier set across the Mississippi River, and yet no one had ever dared to draw city boundaries that straddle both sides of its waters. The living do not see Afterlights, and yet everyone has had times when they've felt a presence near them–sometimes comforting, sometimes not–but always strong enough to make one turn around and look over one's shoulder.

Look behind you now.

Do you feel in your heart a slight hastening of its beat, and a powerful sense that something momentous is about to happen?

... Perhaps, then, this is the hour that Mary Hightower takes to the sky with a thousand Afterlights heading toward Memphis.

... Perhaps this is the moment that Nick, the Chocolate Ogre, arrives in that same city in search of Allie, only to find that he has no idea where to look.

... Perhaps this is the very instant that a monster called the McGill arrives there as well, aching to ease his pain by sharing his misery–not only with his new minions, but with anyone he can. ... And perhaps you can sense, in some small twisting loop of your gut, the convergence of the wrong, of the right, and of the woefully misguided. If you do, then pay sharp attention to the moment you wake, and the moment you fall asleep... . For maybe then you will know, without a shadow of a doubt, which is which.

CHAPTER 32 The Low Approach

Nick had no idea that this day would lead him right into a vortex–and not just any vortex, but one of the most dangerous ones Everlost had to offer. All he knew was that nothing was going according to plan. The moment Nick had heard Allie was in Memphis, he was convinced that he was destined to find her. He was certain that he would arrive, and there she would be. How foolish. Did he expect her to be standing there in the middle of Beale Street waiting for him?

He had teams search the city for days, battling that soulnumbing wind, but they didn't find a single Afterlight in Memphis, or a single clue as to Allie's whereabouts.

A scout had returned from St. Louis, claiming the Mississippi wind was no better in that city. He spoke of rumors that Mary Hightower was farther north. Michigan, perhaps, or Illinois. Charlie, who wanted to map more of the Midwest rails, was urging him to head north, but Nick wouldn't have it. They could face Mary without Allie, but having Allie there simply felt ... right. The sum of the parts would be greater than the whole. It would make them complete. It would make him complete.

"Allie the Outcast is here!" he told his restless troops. "I can feel it." And he could. That connection, forged the moment they were born into Everlost, told him that she was right under his nose, if only he knew where to look. "Keep searching!" he told them, sounding more like an Ogre by the minute.

Then, on their sixth day in Memphis, Johnnie-O approached him with some news.

"She's coming," Johnnie-O said. By the tone of his voice, and the look on his face, and the way he cracked his knuckles, Nick knew he didn't mean Allie. "Somehow Mary knew we were here!"

Nick stood from his chair. It was getting increasingly harder for him to rise, and as he walked forward, he dragged his feet, leaving chocolate skid marks on the ground.

"How close is she?" Nick asked.

Johnnie-O cracked a knuckle, the sound as penetrating as a sonar ping.

"Stop that," Nick said. "For all we know she has a kid with big enough ears to hear that a hundred miles away."

"Sorry." Johnnie-O looked deeply worried, and he was not an Afterlight who was easily intimidated.

"How close is she?" Nick asked again.

"You're not gonna like it," Johnnie-O said.

"Just tell me."

Johnnie-O let his large hands fall limp by his side. "She's already in the city. Less than two miles away."

Nick stared at him incredulously. How could that be? Everywhere they went, they sent scouts out for ten miles in all directions, searching the skies for the Hindenburg . If there was one thing Mary Hightower could not do in an airship, it was sneak up on them. "How could she get so close?"

"I think maybe we were all looking too high," said Johnnie-O, nervously cracking his knuckles again.

Two miles away, a hundred Afterlights holding ropes heaved themselves forward, dragging behind them a giant airship. Inch by inch it moved, its belly practically crawling across the ground.

Mary had been unconvinced that the western wind was the obstacle others claimed it was. Still, she had Speedo conduct the airship due south from Chicago, and didn't turn west until they were over Tennessee airspace. As Memphis had begun to loom in the distance, their airspeed slowed, and the airship's rudder strained hopelessly to keep them on a western course. When it became clear they would get no closer by air, Mary had Speedo set the ship down, and arranged for an alternate method of propulsion.

A hundred Afterlights were chosen for the team that would pull the Hindenburg forward toward Memphis, straining against an increasingly powerful wind. It was amazing how a ship that was supposed to be lighter than air could feel heavier to drag than a stone obelisk.

Fortunately, obstacles in the living world were not obstacles at all, for the airship passed through living forests and buildings–and although it was difficult for the team of pullers to struggle for traction in the bog of the living world, Mary's children always did what they were told. Within the airship, the rest of Mary's kids filled the rigid aluminum frame, resting on catwalks, finding space between the huge hydrogen bladders. Mary had briefed them personally on their part in the upcoming mission, and now an air of excitement filled the hollow spaces of the giant craft, like the static electricity that brought the airship to Everlost in the first place.

She had left behind a dozen of her most well-trained followers in Chicago to tend to the sleeping Interlights–more than two hundred of them when she left. She didn't know when she would return to Chicago, but when she did, there would be a fine community of Afterlights, all brought up with the benefit of her teachings.

As the grounded airship crawled toward Memphis, Mary tried to quell her own anticipation by taking the most frightened of her children to her in the Starboard Promenade, and telling them whatever comforting stories she could remember from the living world. Fairy tales with endings she tweaked toward the positive. Happily-ever-afters fabricated where none existed before. Still, the children were on edge.

"What if the Ogre attacks us before we get there?" one of her children asked.

"He won't," Mary told him, for as much as Mary wanted the world to think that Nick was a ruthless monster, she knew he was not. He would try diplomacy before waging an all-out war. In fact her whole strategy counted on it.

At noon, she could see from her windows that the airship was no longer laboring forward, for the many Afterlights straining to drag it had reached an impasse against the wind. This was as far as they would go ... which meant the time had come to finally make an opening gesture to Nick. A letter–which she wrote and rewrote until she was sure it was just right. She crafted it to make sure he could read nothing between the lines. It would not reveal the feelings she still had for him–mainly because she couldn't be sure he still felt the same way for her. And besides, after today, those feelings would no longer matter.

Once the letter was ready, she sealed it with old-fashioned sealing wax stamped with an M, then she called for one of her fastest runners.

"I need a brave messenger," Mary told her. "Can I count on you?"

The girl nodded enthusiastically, thrilled to be able to please her.

"I need you to go to the Ogre's train as quickly as you can–Speedo will tell you the way–and bring the Ogre this letter. You must hand it to the Ogre personally, and to no one else."

The girl no longer looked enthusiastic but terrified, so Mary put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "The Ogre is a terrible creature to be sure–but this letter will keep you under my protection. As long as you are brave and true, and do not accept anything the Ogre offers, I promise you will remain safe."

"Yes, Miss Mary."

After the girl was gone, Mary took some time to revel in her plan, and to mourn over it as well, because much would be lost today. Milos and the skinjackers were already out in the world, using their talents, and manifesting their own destinies on her behalf. The trap had been set for Nick, and all that remained was to spring it. "I'll set out on foot," Mary told Speedo. "You know what to do while I'm gone."

Speedo didn't look pleased. "Why do you have to go alone?"

"An entourage will invite suspicion," Mary answered. "I know what I'm doing."

"Do you? I agree it's a good idea to meet with him on neutral ground–but why meet him at a vortex? Aren't vortexes dangerous?"

"Vortices," corrected Mary, "are only dangerous if one doesn't understand the danger, and I do. We have reliable information on the Memphis vortex, and it is exactly what we need."

She turned away from Speedo then, for she knew her face gave away certain emotions she preferred to keep to herself. She comforted herself with thoughts of her larger purpose in Everlost. All those chosen to lead were asked to make painful sacrifices to prove themselves worthy. And today Mary would sacrifice her love. In her book Caution, This Means You, Mary Hightower devotes the following bullet point to vortices.

"Vortices are both the bane and blessing of Everlost. On the positive side, unexpected objects have been known to cross into Everlost through one vortex or another. However, on a less pleasant note, vortices will affect Afterlights in very undesirable ways. If you suspect that you've come across a vortex, it is best to steer clear of it, and report it to an authority."

CHAPTER 33 Suspicious Minds