The Light (Morpheus Road) (19 page)

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"We will travel the road together," he screeched, and pulled me under.

I was surrounded by nothing. And water. I struggled to free myself from the force that was pulling me down, but Gravedigger was ready for me this time. His grip was strong. I opened my eyes to see his hideous white face, inches from mine. Even in the murky water I could see that he was smiling. I pulled at his bony hands to loosen his grip, but he was too strong. It was like trying to pry open a vise. I kicked up with my knee, hoping to score a shot on something critical. . . assuming ghouls had critical things. It didn't matter. My legs got tangled in his and I couldn't put any force behind it.

My lungs hurt. I don't know how long I was down there, but I knew I couldn't last much longer. Fighting only got me closer to the end. All I wanted to do was breathe in. The pain was so intense that I was ready to end it by sucking in water. At least there would be relief and it would be over. I grew dizzy and was seconds from opening my mouth to let my lungs fill with water, when Gravedigger released his grip and flew away from me. He actually shot backward in the water as if being pulled from behind. He didn't kick or stroke, he just floated away . . . and disappeared.

I felt the collar of my shirt being grabbed, and my nanosecond of relief ended. I figured Gravedigger had somehow whipped around behind me again and was going to pull me backward and down to my death. I relaxed. There was no more fight in me. I was pulled by my collar but not deeper. My head broke the surface and though I was nearly unconscious, I instinctively gulped air. I didn't know what was happening and didn't care. I lifted my chin and sucked in oxygen. My head cleared quickly and I realized I was still being held by the collar. I spun around, breaking the

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ghoul's grasp, and was ready to fight him off. . . when I saw that it wasn't him. It was Sydney.

"Relax," she ordered, breathing hard herself as she treaded water.

I wasn't sure it was even her after what had happened with Cooper. Or what I thought was Cooper. I pushed back and kicked away to keep my distance from her.

"What are you doing?" she yelled. "Calm down!"

"Stay away from me," I commanded.

"Okay, okay," she said calmly. "I'm not moving."

The two of us treaded water a few yards apart. My brain was scrambled. I guess a near-death experience will do that.

"Let's swim in, okay?" Sydney said calmly. "Can you swim?"

"Is it you?" I asked.

"Who else would it be?"

I didn't answer that.

"It's Sydney," she added. "Don't you recognize me?"

My head had cleared enough to realize she was talking to me slowly as if I was an unbalanced, crazy person, which was smart because I was an unbalanced, crazy person.

"Is it really you?" I asked.

"Yes, and I'm getting tired and cold. Can we swim in?"

That sounded exactly like Sydney. She was no illusion. I nodded and the two of us went for shore. A few seconds later I crawled up out of the water and collapsed onto the grass. It took a couple of minutes for me to catch my breath. When I opened my eyes, I saw Sydney sitting next to me, dripping wet in her plaid pajama bottoms and T-shirt. She looked at me with wide eyes like she didn't know what was going to happen next.

"Are you all right?" she asked. (There was that idiotic question again.)

I was far from all right, but I think she was asking

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specifically if I would survive the next minute. I nodded.

She seemed shaken. It took a lot to shake Sydney.

"Did you see?" I asked softly.

"I saw you splashing around in the water," she said. "What's the deal?"

I had my answer. All she saw was a guy in the water, drowning. One guy. Me. It was more proof that everything I'd seen was happening inside my head.

"Doesn't matter," I answered. "I was in trouble and you saved me. Thank you."

"You weren't, like, trying to hurt yourself, were you?"

Sydney was trying to understand. I'll give her that much.

"No."

"You were thrashing around like . . . like Mikey did this morning. Like you were fighting something."

I'd almost forgotten about Mikey. I shrugged. I couldn't speak for him. I didn't know why he flipped. I sat up and looked out onto the water, which now looked calm and serene.

"Did you see that guy again?" she asked. "Gravedigger?"

I shot Sydney a look. She remembered what I had told her the night before. She was listening.

"Yes," I said. Why lie? She didn't believe me anyway. "I know it's stupid. I don't believe a character I created has somehow come to life and is trying to kill me. It may not be real, but to me it is, and maybe that's as bad as if it were really happening. I could have drowned. If you hadn't saved me, I would have. So . . . thank you."

Sydney nodded.

"There's something seriously wrong with me," I added. "I fought it for a while, but there's nothing I can do. When my dad gets home, I'm going to tell him everything and get help. I just hope I don't hurt myself before then."

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I waited for Sydney to take me apart. Showing vulnerability to somebody like her was like throwing chum into shark-infested waters. She stared at the ground, picking at grass. I thought she was trying to come up with the perfect, skewering insult that would finish the job Gravedigger had started.

"I think you're wrong," she finally said.

"About what?"

"About what you've been seeing."

"Really?" I said skeptically and with a little anger. "How do
you
explain it?"

I couldn't wait to hear her theory. I knew she would somehow turn it around so that it was all some game that Cooper had a hand in. That's how her mind worked. It ticked me off. Here I had opened myself up and she was more than willing to ridicule me.

"I can't," she said. "But I saw what happened to Mikey. That wasn't normal. And I still don't know how you knew about my tattoo."

"You think this is some prank conspiracy thing, don't you?" I said with impatience.

She kept her eyes on the ground and shook her head. As hard as it was to believe, she seemed truly upset. Seeing Sydney Foley like that was almost as strange as seeing a figment of my imagination come to life. Almost.

She said, "You didn't ask how I knew you were in trouble."

"You must have heard me splashing around."

She shook her head. "I didn't. I was asleep."

"So then--"

"Somebody woke me up," she said quickly. "Or some-
thing.
It felt like a breeze. It rustled the sheets on my bed and tickled my cheek. I thought it was my mother trying to get me up. It pissed me off and I sat up ready to tell her so, but nobody was in the room."

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My palms started to sweat. "Maybe it
was
a breeze," I said.

"My windows were closed," she declared as she looked at me. I saw something in her eyes that was totally alien for Sydney Foley. Uncertainty. Maybe even fear. "But they weren't closed for long. When I sat up, the front window blew open. That window opens out. There was nothing inside that could have done that."

The hair went up on the back of my neck. I was having trouble breathing.

She continued, "I sat there trying to understand, when a piece of paper on the desk was blown into the air. At least I think it was blown. It fluttered across the room like a feather bouncing on the breeze. Suddenly it changed direction and blew out of the window. I sat there stunned. Then the window slammed shut! It was so fast, it made me jump. A second later it opened again. Slowly. It was like . . . like ... I was being called to it. I forced myself to get out of bed and went over to lock it. When I got there, I looked out onto the lake . . . and saw you struggling."

My mouth was so dry, I couldn't swallow.

"I don't know what happened in that room," she said. "But it got me out of bed to go to the window and see you. I don't know anything about hallucinations or mental disorders or anything else that could cause somebody to see something that isn't really there, but it doesn't take a psychiatrist to know that the chances of it happening to three people at the same time are probably longer than can be measured. There's something strange going on, Marsh, and I don't think it's happening in your head because you are not alone. What Mikey saw was real, or at least he thought it was. The same with me."

I don't know what scared me more. The idea that I had some brain dysfunction that created dangerous visions,

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or the possibility that they weren't products of my imagination at all. At least being crazy was disturbing but explainable. The other possibility was far more frightening because it meant that Gravedigger really existed. And he wanted me dead.

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Chapter 14

Sydney and I spent the rest of the night on the porch.

After changing into dry clothes, we sat on opposite ends of the couch, trying not to fall asleep. Either she felt sorry for me and didn't want to leave me alone, or she was scared and didn't want to be alone herself. She had seen something in her bedroom that she couldn't explain and it disturbed her. I knew the feeling ... a few times over. Whatever her reasons, I was glad for the company.

As much as I tried to stay awake, I eventually nodded off and had a dream that was both great and disturbing. It was about my mother. She was sitting in a big easy chair and I was lying next to her with my cheek resting on her shoulder. That's the way she used to read books to me when I was little, and that's exactly what she was doing in my dream. I could hear her voice clearly as she softly read one of my favorite books from when I was a kid,
The Wind in the

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Willows.
I felt comfortable and safe. It was a good dream. At least for a while.

At one point I looked up to see ... it wasn't my mother anymore. It was Sydney. And I wasn't asleep. Somehow I had rolled over and was lying with my head against her shoulder. I sat up so fast, I nearly gave myself whiplash. Luckily, I didn't wake Sydney. She had no idea of what had happened, thankfully. There was a little wet spot on her sleeve where my mouth had been. How embarrassing was that? If she had woken up, I wouldn't have to worry about Gravedigger anymore. Sydney would have killed me right then and there.

I crawled back to my side of the couch, feeling hollow. With all that had been going on, I hadn't thought much about my mother. Having that dream was yet another cruel trick my mind had played on me. It made me feel more alone than before, if that was possible.

The sky was starting to lighten. We had made it through the night without any more excitement . . . except for the drool-on-the-sleeve incident. The back door opened and Mr. Foley came out onto the porch. The strain was starting to show on his face. He looked older than the day before, with dark bags under his eyes. It was the morning of the fourth day that Cooper was missing.

"Did you two sleep out here?" Mr. Foley asked, confused.

No way he suspected that Sydney and I had hooked up. It was more likely that fish could sing.

"Sydney couldn't sleep, so she came down here," I whispered so as not to disturb her. It wasn't a total lie.

"Oh," he said, accepting the logic easily. "I'm taking the fishing boat out while the lake's calm. Want to come?"

"No, thanks, I'm not awake yet," I answered.

"Okay. I'll be back for breakfast," he said as he walked off the porch, headed for the boathouse.

There was a small wooden shack about forty yards from

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the house that was built half on land, half over the water. It's where the Foleys kept a wooden fishing boat as well as their dock and wooden float during the winter. Cooper and I used it as our clubhouse when we wanted to get away from Sydney. In another life.

"So?" Sydney asked, groggy. "Was it a dream?"

I hoped she wasn't asking about my sleeping on her arm. And the drooling.

"I wish" was my answer. It was an answer that worked either way.

She sat up, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

"You okay?" she asked.

"I guess," I muttered. It wouldn't have done any good to be brutally honest.

"Do you have any idea what's going on?" she asked as she spotted the wet mark on her sleeve. She looked at it with a scowl and tried to rub it off.

I answered quickly to distract her. "I'm thinking there are two possible explanations. One is I'm crazy and the other is I'm being haunted by a ghoul that's trying to kill me. I think I'd rather be crazy."

Sydney thought about my answer and said, "What about Mikey? And the window upstairs?"

"I don't know," I said softly.

Sydney added, "We can't all be going crazy."

"Is it any more likely that a supernatural being from my imagination somehow came to life?"

Sydney frowned. "There better be a third explanation."

I shrugged.

"Did he say anything?" she asked. "I mean, did he give you any idea why he wanted to drown you?"

I thought back to the times I had encountered the apparition. "He said I was going on a journey with him after I was dead."