Everfound

“I’m setting up an e-mail address that we can all check regularly,” Allie told her. “It’s [email protected] /* */”

“Cute.”

“All you have to do is send the names of the skinjackers to that address. You do know how to use e-mail, right?”

“Who do you think I am, Mary?” said Jill. “They had e-mail when I went into a coma.”

“Sorry.” Allie looked over to Jix, who was still talking to Clarence. Jill and Jix’s complete devotion to each other reminded Allie of her own relationship with Mikey . . . in a dark-side-of-the-Force sort of way. “I’m glad you found something you like better than killing people,” she told Jill.

“Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it, Pollya

Allie tried not to think about what Jill had said. She had other business right now. Lacey was still off by herself playing tic-tac-toe in the dirt, toward the edge of the deadspot. That sad-eyed expression never left the girl’s face. Allie went over to her.

“Having fun?” Allie asked.

“Maybe. I guess,” Lacey answered. “When I was with Mary, I played tic-tac-toe every day with some boy. The exact same game over and over again. It felt good to know what would happen next, but at the same time it didn’t feel good at all. Isn’t that weird?”

“No,” said Allie. “I understand.” Then Allie reached into her pocket, and pulled out something that had been sitting there, waiting for years. An Everlost coin. When Allie held it in her hand, the coin stayed cold and inert. As long as she could skinjack, the coin wouldn’t work for her. But it would work for Lacey. Allie held it out to the girl. “Would you like to have this?”

Lacey looked at the coin warily. “Mary said we should make a wish with it and throw it away—she said it wasn’t good for anything else—but you know what? I think she was lying.”

“It will get you out of Everlost,” Allie told her.

“Will it take me home like the ruby slippers?”

Allie thought about the question. “Yes,” she told Lacey. “Not the home where you’ve been, but the one you’re going to.”

Lacey shrugged. “I don’t remember the home I came from, anyway. All I remember is Everlost, Mary, and tictac-toe.” Lacey looked at the coin, still afraid to take it. “They say skinjackers can see the tu

Allie shook her head. “We can see the tu

Lacey looked off into the sun to remind her. “I remember feeling . . . kind of good about it. But then I tripped over my laces and fell.”

“Maybe you’ll feel good this time too.”

Then Lacey grabbed her arm, tightly as if something might grab her at that very moment and take her away. “But what if it’s a trick? What if it’s a lie? What if the light’s bad—or what if it’s fake and there’s nothing there at all? What then?”

Allie grabbed Lacey and held her close, trying to comfort her, but how do you comfort someone from something you’re not sure of yourself? “I don’t know what’s in the light,” Allie said. “Only the people who get there know for sure. . . . But I do know this: Everyone who has ever lived has gone down the tu

“Not everyone gets where they’re going,” Lacey pointed out. “What about the souls who sink?”

“They’ll get there eventually, even if eventually means a long time.”

And then Lacey said, “Squirrel didn’t go into the light. He didn’t go anywhere at all. What about him?”

Allie closed her eyes. She never liked Squirrel, but he didn’t deserve to be extinguished. “Well,” Allie said, “that’s the exception that proves the rule.”

She held Lacey for a moment more, and when she let go, Lacey seemed comforted. More than comforted, she was calmed. She was ready.

“Will you hold my hand until I’m gone?” Lacey asked.

“Of course I will.”

They stood with Allie holding her hand, then Lacey held out her other hand, and Allie placed the coin in the middle of her palm.

“It’s warm,” Lacey said.

Allie smiled. “Make a wish.”

Lacey closed her palm, holding the coin tight, and in an instant they were both bathed in bright light coming from the end of an impossibly long tu

Jill, who had seen the whole thing, gave Allie slow applause. “Very touching,” Jill said. “I may have to skinjack someone just so I can hurl.”

CHAPTER 35

Dark Cumulus

Any journey worth making is more meaningful made on foot. And crossing the desert is a time-honored tradition of any holy pilgrimage.”

This was Mary’s decree as they marched up from south Texas, keeping away from roads and other hints of civilization. It was, she decided, the best way to steer clear of the scar wraith. The path they cut took them north of San Antonio, and they began to pick up stray Afterlights that had scattered after the Neons had attacked the train. The collective afterglow of her army was a beacon attracting Afterlights for miles in all directions, and when her scattered flock realized that it was Mary, they came ru

Mary soon a

They numbered more than five hundred by the time their relentless march reached Odessa, Texas.

Only now did Mary allow her children a rest from their travels. There was an old sports arena in Odessa that had been torn down when the new coliseum was built. The old arena was now the most substantial deadspot that the small city had to offer. With so many Afterlights under Mary’s wing now, it was a perfect-size space for a temporary respite, and an effective center of operations for her new skinjackers’ first mission. The trick was figuring out what that mission should be.

As it turned out, Moose was very helpful in this regard. While Moose had never been accused of being a genius, he was actually a whole lot smarter without Squirrel around, and more highly motivated by his loss than by his presence. He was very clever when it came to skinjacking reco

Mary turned the arena’s press box into her center of operations. From here she could look out over the whole arena, and keep an eye on all her children. There was a fine basketball court below, and a few basketballs had even crossed with the arena when it was imploded. Now a spontaneous basketball game had erupted. Many Afterlights played, more were content to be spectators, and others began to spread out into the stands, finding their own particular patterns of behavior. Mary watched the repetitive games and conversations; comfort of familiarity taking root in this unfamiliar environment. It was all about habit, Mary knew. It was all about consistency. For this reason Mary was not at all surprised when Jackin’ Jill showed up in Odessa. She knew Jill was a creature of habit too.

“Of course you’re still one of us, Jill,” Mary said, giving Jill a warm welcoming hug. “I understand your pain, and I forgive you.”