Everwild (32 page)

She should have tried to peel out of him the second she woke up that morning in her parents' house, but no, instead she asked her parents to feed her, and over a bowl of Apple Jacks they told her that she was still alive.

Alive!

The news was such a sudden shock that it not only echoed in her own mind, it also woke Danny up, and he began fighting his way to the surface. She tried to run, but when she opened the front door, she ran right into the policeman standing there. In a second even more police cruisers were showing up—one of them bearing a distraught couple, who had woken up two blocks away to find their son missing. When Allie's father had called 911, the police had apparently put two and two together, and raced Danny's parents over for a family reunion.

At the time, Allie was still reeling from her own revelation.
She was alive.
Did that mean she could live again? Could she—dare she even think it—could she skinjack
herself
?

Oblivious to what was going on, Danny's parents had smothered him with kisses, and the police had questioned Allie's parents as to how on earth the boy had turned up there. Allie didn't want to fight Danny, and once they were in the police cruiser, driving away, she tried over and over again to peel herself out of the boy. His body stiffened, his back arched, his eyes bulged, but Allie could not get out of his body, and his parents became more and more concerned with their son's strange behavior. As the police car pulled into the Rozelli's driveway, Allie finally realized the true cost of skinjacking someone for too long. She was now a permanent resident in Danny Rozelli's body.

But the worst was yet to come.

It was the element of surprise that gave a skinjacker the advantage. A person didn't know how to defend themselves against a skinjacking, or how to fight to retain control of his or her own body—especially against a seasoned skinjacker like Allie. But fleshies learn quickly. Each time Danny's spirit surfaced, he was stronger, more able to fight Allie from the inside out, and now, half a day later, the two of them were still battling at sunset, with neither one getting the upper hand. They were two evenly-matched spirits sealed into a single body, and it looked like they were going to stay that way for good.

“I'm fine!” Allie insisted, in control of Danny's mouth. “I'm fine, really.” Unfortunately Danny had control of the rest of his head, and began banging it against the wall.

His mother began to wail, his father grabbed him and restrained him, and Allie withdrew, trying to figure out a new approach to this unhappy situation.

She pulled way back, allowing Danny to have full control of himself, but not so far back that he could force her to sleep—for he had figured out that trick too. She waited as his body relaxed, his breathing slowed, and his father, who was still restraining him, loosened his grip.

“It's all right, Danny,” he said. “We're going to get you help. I promise.”

Danny, tears in his eyes, nodded. Allie waited a minute more, then pushed her thoughts forward in a faint whisper.

—Danny, please listen to me—

No!
he thought back to her.
No, no, no!
But at least now he wasn't shouting it out loud.

—Bad things will happen if you don't listen to me—

He didn't answer her right away. Then he thought,
What kind of bad things?

—They'll take you away from your parents and put you in a hospital—

No! My parents won't let anyone do that!

—
What do you think they mean when they said they'll get you help?—

Danny didn't respond to that. Good. He was finally seeing reason.

—I didn't mean to get stuck in here, Danny, but I did, and we have to make the best of it. Now we have to be friends until I can figure out how to get out—

I don't want to be your friend! You're a girl! I don't want a girl in my head!

Great,
thought Allie,
that's what I get for skinjacking a seven-year-old.

I heard that!

And now not even her thoughts were private. This was going to take a lot of getting used to.

—Think of me as your guardian angel, Danny—

You're an angel?

—
Yes
,
I am—
she told him, seizing onto the one idea that might make this whole thing work,—
and if you want things to be okay, you have to pretend like it already is okay. You have to pretend like I'm not here—
And then she made a decision.—
I promise not to take over your body without your permission … if you promise to calm down and act normal—

Okay,
thought Danny,
but if you start making me do girly things …

“Danny, honey, talk to me,” said his mother. “Tell me what's wrong.”

Danny took a deep breath, and said, “Nothing, Mom. I'm okay now. I was … I was having a bad dream, but it went away.”

His mother hugged him. Allie was impressed that he pulled it off.—
Very good—
thought Allie.—
They'll probably still take you to see doctors, but if you act normal, everything will be okay—

Will they give me shots?

—
I don't think so—

Good,
thought Danny, and then he asked her,
Will you help me with my homework sometimes?

Sure,
thought Allie.
Why not.
She tried to tell herself that she'd be okay with this—being a backseat driver to a second-grader, but the reality of it filled her with despair. Everlost was gone—she couldn't see it anymore, couldn't feel it. It was invisible to her, just as it was to Danny, or any
other fleshie. She knew her body was out there somewhere, but she had no idea where to find it—and even if she did, she was still stuck inside this kid. Good going, Allie.

Don't be sad, Allie.

And so, for Danny's sake, she tried not to be.

Five hundred miles northeast of Memphis, another skinjacker paced in the
Hindenburg
's Starboard Promenade.

“Patience, Milos,” Mary said. “Patience is what we need right now.”

“But why must I spend my days running petty skinjacking errands for Pugsy Capone? That is work for Moose and Squirrel, not for me!”

Mary took his hand. “You're doing it as a favor for me.”

“Yes, but there is so much more I could do for you, if you let me! Please! Give me a task—something you think is impossible, and I will do it. I wish to show you how useful I can be for you.” More than useful, Milos knew he needed to be indispensable—otherwise how would she ever see him as an equal?

“By serving, and keeping an eye on Pugsy, it frees Jill to catch crossing souls. She's bringing in two and three a day, thanks to you!”

“I could bring you more! And I do not need an amulet to do it!” Milos held her gaze for a moment, then paced away,
realizing he had just opened a can of ants. Or was it worms? He could never get these English expressions correct.

“Is that so?” said Mary, slowly sauntering up to him. “And how might you accomplish that?”

He was so tempted to tell Mary the truth—he owed no loyalty to Jill after what she had done to him. He could tell Mary that Jill wasn't just catching souls as they crossed— no, her role was much more active than that—much more “hands-on.” He wondered how Jill did the deed. Did she use a weapon, or did she do it with her fleshie's bare hands? The more Milos thought about it, the less he wanted to know.

“How would you save the children with no amulet to guide you?” Mary pressed. “Tell me, I'd like to know.”

If he told Mary, he suspected it wouldn't just turn her against Jill—it would poison her against all skinjackers. If he brought down Jill, he'd bring down himself as well. It wasn't for Jill's sake that he kept her secret.

“Never mind,” said Milos, deflating. “But I do wish you would let me do something special for you. Something that might truly earn your trust.”

“I trust everyone until I'm given a reason not to,” Mary told him, which was nice in theory, but ridiculous in practice— so Milos gave her a teasing grin.

“And how many reasons do I give you so far?”

Mary tried to suppress a smile, but failed miserably. “I've lost count.”

“Well,” said Milos, “maybe I am after something more than trust.” He let the thought linger for a moment, then gave a slight, but courteous bow. “Now if you will excuse me, I have to get Pugsy some sports scores.”

He turned to go, but Mary wasn't quite done with him yet.

“You asked for an impossible task,” she said. “Perhaps I can give you one.”

Milos turned back to her, watching as she strode across the Promenade, peering down out of the angled windows, looking at the Afterlights in the court of honor. The children here now played games. The same games, day after day after day. “Things have certainly gotten better here since my arrival,” she told Milos, “but Pugsy is really more of a hindrance than a help, don't you agree?”

Milos, who had no love of the Death Boss, said, “Of course I do.”

“Well then, I want you to … talk … to Pugsy. I want you to persuade him to leave Chicago. Forever.”

“I do not think this is possible,” Milos told her. “He will never leave Chicago of his own free will.”

Mary shrugged and raised her eyebrows. “Well, you said you wanted an impossible task; there it is.”

Milos considered it. “Persuade him, you say …”

“I'm certainly not suggesting anything unseemly… .”

“Of course not. You would never do such a thing.” Milos came to the window beside her, “And if I succeed?”

“If you succeed,” said Mary, “and Pugsy ceases to be a problem, you'll have better things to do than fetch his sports scores.” Then she smiled. It wasn't her usual warm, welcoming smile. This time it seemed steeped in intrigue and design. “Tell me, have you ever been to the West, Milos?”

“No,” he answered. “I have heard stories of skinjackers
who jacked their way across the Mississippi, but they never returned. Are you planning an expedition?”

“If you accomplish the impossible,” Mary told him. “Perhaps I will too.”

Milos gently took her hand. “It is a pleasure to be in your service, Miss Hightower, Governess of the East, and soon to be West.” Then he raised her hand to his lips and gently kissed the silken, glowing back of her hand. He knew he was being too bold, and if ever there was a moment she would throw him out, this would be it, but instead she slowly withdrew her hand, and said, “You, Milos, could be very dangerous.”

To which he replied, “Is that an observation, or a request?”

That brought forth a laugh, but no answer. Perhaps because she was still undecided.

That night Pugsy Capone dined on lobster. There was always lobster, or steak, or good old Chicago Pizza since Mary became a part of his establishment. Her children diligently ventured out into the living world in search of crossed food, and her relationships with some fairly wellknown finders resulted in a trade surplus that kept Pugsy in the pink. Whatever he wanted, it was available. Even his own Chicago Afterlights were following suit, becoming busy bees, instead of lazy oafs.

“I've been thinking of declaring myself boss over Indianapolis, and then spreading East to Ohio,” he had told Mary. “Whadaya think?”

“It sounds visionary,” Mary had told him. “Stretch as far east as you like.”

While he had been reluctant to join with her at first, he had to admit that they were an unstoppable team. The future was looking brighter than ever before. So when he was approached by Moose, who told him that a truck had arrived full of tributes and gifts from the Indianapolis Afterlights, foul play was the last thing he suspected.

As he crossed the midway with Moose, it didn't trouble him that his trio of bodyguards were nowhere to be found. He had come to rely on them less and less since security, and a need for six-fisted intimidation, had become less of a priority. He was caught off guard by the sack that was thrust over his head, and before he knew what was happening, his hands and feet were tied, and he was carried off.

He was dumped some time later on a wooden floor that creaked beneath him, and when the bag was ripped from his face, he was looking up at three Afterlights glowing in the dark night: It was the new skinjackers. All three of them.

“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.”