“It’s not fair!” said Speedo as he moved farther and farther away from the center of activity, wanting to get as far from Mary as he could. “This was my claim, I found it. It’s mine.”
“Yeah, but we’re back with Mary now,” said Sandman, who used to be in charge of the sleeping car. Now he was in charge of collecting beds for the Artesia Interlights, many of whom were suspected to be skinjackers.
“So what?” said Speedo. “It’s still not fair.” He kicked a pile of air conditioners, making the top few tumble. For a moment, he thought he saw something moving in the pile, but he knew it was just his imagination.
“Maybe I should tell Mary how you feel,” said Sandman.
“No,” said Speedo fearfully. The last thing he wanted was for Mary to know that he was not with the program. “No, I’ll be okay. I just got to get used to the idea.”
“Better get used to it fast, because now that she’s here, everything’s going back to how it used to be.” Then Sandman strode off in search of more beds, leaving Speedo alone with his thoughts.
Disgusted and dejected, Speedo leaned against a ’57 Thunderbird convertible and reached down, trying to scrape the muddy sand from the soles of his wet feet.
“It’s not fair . . . ,” Speedo mumbled again, and, to his surprise, someone answered.
“Of course it’s not fair.”
He spun to see, of all spirits, Allie the Outcast sitting in the passenger seat of the bright red T-bird.
“Mary treats everyone unfairly,” she said, “and somehow she makes you feel like that’s exactly what you want. I’m glad you aren’t falling for it anymore.”
Speedo’s first instinct was to run and tell Mary . . . but then, why should he? What did he owe Mary? All this time he had chauffeured her around by car, by zeppelin, by train—and how did she repay him? By jumping his claim.
“Don’t . . . Don’t hurt me” was all Speedo could think to say.
“I couldn’t if I wanted to,” Allie said. “The worst I could do would be to send you down, but I won’t do that, Speedo, because I think you finally get it.” Then she patted the driver seat beside her. “Come on, hop in.”
Speedo looked around to make sure they weren’t being watched, then got in. He didn’t use the door, he just hopped over it the way he imagined James Bond would, and slid down to the plush leather seat of the convertible with a wet sploosh.
“Put your hands on the wheel,” Allie said. “Go on.”
“Why? I’m not going anywhere,” he said.
“You could be,” Allie told him. “This car and everything on this deadspot could be yours again.”
Speedo sighed. He knew where this was going. “But only if I turn against Mary, and join up with you, right?”
“Not even that much,” Allie said. “All you have to do is get Mary to come to the edge of the deadspot.”
“And then?”
“And then nothing. I’ll take it from there.”
Speedo shook his head. “If I do that, and you do something to her, everyone will know I helped you.”
“I think you’re clever enough to get Mary here without anyone knowing you helped me.”
Then, as Speedo looked at the various piles around them he got a flash of inspiration. “We’re in the north part of the deadspot right now, but I think I can bring her to the southern edge. Can you be there in an hour?”
Allie nodded, and with their plan set, Speedo left with the firm knowledge that Allie was right: He was clever. Extremely clever.
At the heart of the deadspot, they had already begun deconstructing the piles and moving furniture to create open-air living spaces for the hundreds of children under Mary’s protection. A special dormitory area was set for the Artesia Interlights, and they were set on comfortable beds made with military precision, making it clear to everyone how important these new skinjackers would be once they woke up.
Mary had set up her own personal parlor right in the middle of everything, with the bomb as a centerpiece like a piece of modern art. Meanwhile, her five remaining skinjackers formed a think tank, planning trips to Washington, the Middle East, Russia, and everywhere else they were likely to find the keys to Armageddon. The real work, though, would come once they left Ground Zero, and truly educated themselves on the many twisting paths of this journey of death. Certainly, even with arms treaties, there were more than enough nukes to kill the living world.
“I like what you’ve done with the space,” Speedo said, as he walked into Mary’s parlor, “and I’ve found just the thing to make it complete.”
“What did you find?” Mary asked.
“It’s a surprise,” Speedo said. “You’re gonna absolutely love it!”
He led her to the southern edge of the deadspot, right at the boundary of the living world. “This was the first place we sorted,” Speedo told her. “When I saw this, I immediately thought of you.”
At first Mary thought he was referring to a sorted pile of shiny metal objects, containing everything from corkscrews to silver cups to trophies.
“Thank you, but I don’t need a trophy to satisfy my ego,” Mary told him.
“No, not that stuff, I’m talking about this!” He led her around the shiny pile to a cluster of desks, then he pushed a few desks aside to reveal an old fashioned roll-top. He rapped it with his fist. “See that? Solid oak!” And his oversize smile stretched from ear to ear, revealing more teeth than any person should have.
Mary clapped her hands together, thrilled at the sight of it. “How thoughtful of you, Speedo.”
“Well,” Speedo said, “I figured you’d be writing some more. I mean, there are so many more Afterlights to educate, right?”
Mary approached the desk, but as she did, a figure leaped out of nowhere, knocking her down. And Speedo reacted with the same surprise as everyone else.
Allie knew she would have only one shot at this. She took Mary to the ground, and they landed right at the edge of the deadspot. Although Mary fought back, Allie rolled them both off the deadspot, and into the living world.
Her children tried to rush to Mary’s aid, but then Clarence stepped out of the pile of desks, threatening to touch anyone who interfered. Their fear of the scar wraith was stronger than their need to help Mary.
Mary struggled against Allie, but Allie was stronger.
“First you kill my skinjackers and now you dare to attack me?” Mary said as she struggled. Allie pushed down on Mary’s shoulders, and she began to sink.
“Your time on earth is over,” Allie told her. “You can try to sell the kids down there on your cause, but I don’t think they’ll listen.” Now Mary’s shoulders were in the ground, and when she tried to roll, Allie held on, leaving them both wedged in the earth. Yes, it would be a one-way trip for Allie, but it was worth it. “Oh, and by the way,” said Allie, “I met your assassin in Memphis. He’s sleeping with the magma now.”
“That’s nothing compared to what we did to your friend Jill.” And then Mary oinked like a pig, which, in its own way was satisfying . . . although it didn’t bode well for Jill.
Then all at once Mary stopped struggling. Perhaps, thought Allie, she was resigned to her fate. But then Mary smiled.
“If you must know,” Mary said, “we’ve been expecting you.” Then a blur came up behind Clarence—a living blur in an Army uniform. It was the officer that Allie had left sleeping in his jeep. He swung a tire iron at Clarence’s head and knocked him out cold. Instantly, Mary’s children flooded off the deadspot, grabbed Allie, and pulled Mary out of the ground before she could sink any farther.
Then, to Allie’s horror, the army officer took out his pistol. “Sorry, dude, but Mary says I gotta do this.”
Allie turned away. There came the awful sound of a gunshot, and Allie knew it was over. Her one chance of ending the reign of Mary Hightower had failed.
CHAPTER 48
Suicide King
Bad luck, bad karma, and simple human error.
These are the things to which Allie attributed her catastrophic failure to defeat Mary Hightower and save the living world. Had she been lucky and been able to squeeze out a few more seconds . . . had she not committed the crimes of killing Milos and Moose . . . and had she not been so irresponsible as to leave that Army officer where he could wake up, and be seen by a skinjacker, it would have all gone differently. She was now held by four Afterlights and put into handcuffs that had come to the vortex from one blast zone or another.
Before her on the ground lay Clarence, his blood seeping from his head into the ground. She had looked away, because she had not wanted to see it. All she saw was the flash of light as he got where he was going. . . .
But if he was dead, then why was his chest still rising and falling? How could he still be breathing?
That’s when Allie saw the body of the Army officer on the ground, the gun still in his hand. He hadn’t shot Clarence, he had turned the gun on himself! And beside him in Everlost, the Asian boy who had skinjacked the man, and forced him to take his own life, was now crouched beside his body, shivering.
“Don’t make me do that again, Miss Mary. Please don’t make me do that again.”
“It’s all right, SoSo. It’s going to be all right now.”
Mary went over to him, and Allie saw the strangest thing—Mary’s afterglow seemed to stretch out, enveloping him, making his own flickering glow grow steady and bright. In seconds he appeared comforted and relieved of his burden.
“If you had any thought of escape by skinjacking,” Mary told Allie, gesturing down to the dead man, “it won’t be possible now. There’s not a living soul around for miles, except of course for your friend here.”
Allie realized that there wasn’t all that much blood coming from Clarence’s head at all, but he was still out cold.
Now that Mary was no longer being threatened, she was calm and genteel. “You really are to be pitied, Allie. Such potential, such skill, but you’ve squandered it all—and for what? Just to settle your petty rivalry with me.”
Allie had a lot to say to her on the matter, but Mary had made sure Allie was gagged just in case she might say something that Mary didn’t want her precious children to hear.
“I do believe in rehabilitation, Allie. I believe you can be brought back from that angry place you’ve been, and see the light. So I shall give you one more chance. . . .” Then Mary moved closer to Allie, and as she did, Allie felt something strange happening to her. She felt something coil around her just as it had done to SoSo. It was a surge of Mary’s afterglow, wrapping around her like an anaconda, squeezing her, trying to merge with her own, until Allie could no longer resist it. . . .
. . . And suddenly, Allie understood!
She saw the rightness of Mary’s vision! How Mary had struggled for so long to create a perfect world—for wasn’t that the goal of every society, every culture, every spirit from the beginning of time? To build the perfect world? And not just any world, but one filled with the spirits of children untainted by a life of disappointment and compromise; souls rescued at the purest and brightest moment of human potential! Such a world wouldn’t be complete without things and places to fill it as well. After all, shouldn’t the universe be given the golden opportunity to choose which works of man deserve to remain perfectly preserved forever?