Everwild (26 page)

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?”

“Great—you could be our own Betsy Ross.”

To which she replied, “Betsy Ross was a Yankee.”

It was a strange thing to build an army when they had no idea where to find the enemy. “I've heard rumors that Mary's gone west,” Johnnie-O told Nick. “Maybe even across the Mississippi—but I also hear there's no way to cross the Mississippi, so who knows?”

“D'ya think she's afraid to come this far south?” Charlie asked.

“Mary's not afraid,” Nick told him. “But she
is
cautious—which means she'll only come after us when she feels she can't lose.” He wondered if she knew where he was right now, and what he was doing.

“What d'ya think's gonna happen when you finally come face-to-face with her?” Charlie asked. It wasn't the first time Nick had been asked that question, and his answer was always the same.

“I don't try to guess at things that haven't happened yet.”

But that was a lie. Nick couldn't deny that he had fantasies about their destined meeting. In one fantasy, he would defeat her—but he would show such mercy that Mary would break down in his arms, admit she was wrong about everything—and that admission would heal him, sending every last ounce of chocolate into remission. Then, hand in hand, they would hold their coins and step into the light.

In another version, Mary would win the battle, but be so moved by Nick's valor, and by his passion for freeing the souls she had trapped, that she would finally listen to reason, and allow Afterlights to choose their destinies for themselves. Then together they would lead Everlost into a new age.

All his fantasies ended with him and Mary together one
way or another. This was something he couldn't share with anyone, for how could they trust a leader who was in love with the enemy?

The hundreds of kids who were now under Nick's leadership certainly didn't love Mary. While some of her many writings had dribbled down to the South, fear and awe of the Sky Witch and her magic was much more compelling than the written word. It was their fear of her that made it easier for them to align with the Chocolate Ogre, who, in their eyes, was certainly frightening, but not terrifying. It was a case of the monster you know being better than the monster you don't know. The problem was, their fear of Mary was quick to turn soldiers into army deserters. In a world where ecto-ripping and skinjacking were possible, there was no way to make these kids believe that Mary Hightower had no such powers.

“I only know of two ecto-rippers,” Nick tried to point out to a fearful group of enlistees. “There's one called ‘the Haunter,' who's inside a barrel at the center of the earth, and then there's Zin, who's one of us. As for skinjackers, I've only ever met one. Her name is Allie, and she's on our side too.”

It was the first time Nick had said Allie's name aloud for quite a while. It made him long to see her—to know what had become of her. And as if to answer that longing, one of the kids they had picked up in North Carolina said, “Yeah—Allie the Outcast hates the Sky Witch—she told us so herself.”

Nick turned so fast, chocolate flung into the kid's eye. “What do you mean she told you? You saw her? Where?”

“A couple of months ago, in Greensboro,” he said. “She
came with this other kid who didn't talk much. I liked her, but the other kid scared us a little.”

Nick couldn't contain his excitement. “Tell me everything!” he said. “How was she—how did she look? What was she even doing there?”

Nick sent for the dozen or so kids they picked up in Greensboro, and, pleased to be on the Chocolate Ogre's good side, they were thrilled to give all the information they could. They told Nick all about Allie—how she had become a finder; how she and a boy that Nick could only assume was Mikey McGill rode into town on a horse covered with saddlebags that were packed with crossed items.

“They had good stuff,” the Greensboro kids told him, “not junk like most other finders have—and they traded fair. We asked her to show us some skinjacking, but she wouldn't do it.”

Then everyone flinched at a loud popping sound, followed by another, then another. Nick already knew that sound. It was Johnnie-O cracking his knuckles. It was always a sign that he was either very anxious, or very excited.

“Y' know …” said Johnnie-O, “if we find Allie, we'll have a ripper
and
a skinjacker. With a combination like that, there's a whole lot of things we could do.”

But Nick was already miles ahead of him.

“Where was she headed?” Nick asked the Greensboro kids. He didn't expect much of an answer—after all, finders rarely gave away their trade routes. But the boy said quite simply:

“Memphis.”

* * *

“How well do you know the rail system west of here?” Nick asked Charlie. He thought Charlie would balk at the question, but Choo-choo Charlie was a tried and true conductor, and seemed ready for a new challenge. By now Charlie had gotten himself enough paper to copy the rail map he had been scratching into the engine bulkhead, and mapping the Everwild rails had become a personal mission for him.

“I know what cities should have a lot of tracks that have crossed over—but there's no way to know till we get there. D'ya mean we're not going to Birmingham?”

“Change of plans,” Nick told him. “We're going to Memphis.”

“I hear that's where Everlost ends,” Charlie pointed out. “The Mississippi River, I mean.”

“Well, I guess we'll find out, won't we?”

Then, just before Nick left the engine cab, Charlie pointed to his cheek and said, a little awkwardly, “Uh … you got a little spot there.”

Nick sighed. “That wasn't even funny the first time, Charlie.”

“No,” Charlie said, “I mean the
other
side of your face.”

Nick reached up and touched his good cheek. His finger came away with a tiny spot of chocolate. He wiped it between his thumb and forefinger until it was smudged away. “Just get us to Memphis.”

Nick knew that time was running out for him.

There was no way he could deny it now. It wasn't just the spot on his cheek—little eruptions had begun to pop up
all over Nick's body, rising like pimples, oozing chocolate through the fabric of his clothes when they popped. Those tiny brown patches were everywhere, and were beginning to connect like raindrops on concrete, spreading like a relentless rash, to his back, his scalp, and places he didn't even want to think about. His chocolate hand was weak and getting weaker, the fingers almost fusing together. His left eye was always clouded, and losing more and more sight each day. His shirt, which used to look like a white shirt covered with brown stains, was now more brown than white, and the original color of his tie had long since been forgotten. Even his dark pants, which had always hidden the stains, could no longer resist the umber onslaught, and his shoes looked like two piles of brown candle-drippings giving rise to the rest of his body.

Nick knew it was his own memory that was poisoning him—or lack of memory. He had forgotten so much of who he had been in the living world, there was barely anything left of him. His family, his friends, they were all gone from his mind. All he knew for sure was that he had been eating a chocolate bar when he died, and it had smeared on his face. Soon his only memory would be the chocolate, and then what? What would happen when there was nothing else left of him?

He didn't want to think about it. He didn't have
time
to think about it. All that mattered was the task at hand—and only part of that task was building a fighting force. The rest of his plan he kept to himself, because if he told the others what madness he had in mind, he'd have a whole lot more deserters.

Before they left Chattanooga, Zin presented Nick with
the flag she had made, and Nick told Charlie to fly it from the front of the train, for everyone to see. The design was a series of silver stars, in the pattern of the Big Dipper, sewn on a rich brown fabric.

“My papa always said the Big Dipper was there to catch falling stars,” Zin said. “Kinda like the way you're here to catch falling souls.”

Nick was all choked up, and it wasn't just the chocolate. “You have no idea what this means to me, Zin.”

“Does that mean I get to be a lieutenant?”

“Not yet,” Nick told her. “But soon. Very soon.”

Nick would have hugged her if he thought he could do it without covering her in stains.

Zin was a good soldier, and proud of it. Being a ripper didn't leave a person with much self-respect, so Zin squeezed all the self-respect she could out of her military service. The Chocolate Ogre was now her general, and she would do her job to the best of her ability. A good soldier follows orders. A good soldier doesn't ask questions. But she couldn't help but wonder about some of the requests the Chocolate Ogre made of her. Particularly the secret ones he called “special projects.”

The first request involved an all-day sucker. The kind as big as your face, all colorful and sticky, that gets stuck in your teeth when you bite it, and makes your molars hurt. This sucker had crossed over with a little kid who had probably been working on it since the day he crossed over. The thing was half-eaten, and would stay half-eaten no matter how much the kid licked it.

The Ogre took Zin and the sucker-boy to a candy shop— not an Everlost one, but a living-world shop, where fleshies went about their business buying and selling sweets.

“I want you to rip him a new sucker,” the Ogre ordered.
Zin couldn't see why, as this sucker wasn't going anywhere, but she followed orders.

“Yes, sir. A' course, sir.”

There was a stand that held suckers like a little metal tree. Zin reached into the living world, and ripped the kid a brand new sucker that was bigger and better than the one he started with. Then she proceeded to rip the old sucker from the boy's hand—something only she could accomplish—and replaced it with the new one. The boy acted like a kid in a candy shop, which, in fact, he was.

But then things started to get weird.

After the boy ran off hopping and skipping with his new sucker, the Ogre pointed to the old one in Zin's hand and said, “Now that he's got a better one, I want you to put this one back.”

Zin was confused. “What do you mean ‘put it back'?”

“I mean exactly what I said. Rip a hole, and put the sucker back into the living world.”