Everfound

“Won’t they see us now?”

“I got it covered.”

Then, when Allie tried to peel out, she found it difficult.

“Lift your butt about six inches off the seat,” Clarence told her. “Then try to peel out.”

It worked, and once she was back in Everlost, it all became clear. Clarence had parked the Jeep in the exact same airspace as a vintage pickup truck that had crossed into Everlost. The living-world jeep was hidden from view within the footprint of the larger pickup truck. Allie now found herself sitting in the passenger seat of the Everlost pickup, while the body of the Army officer remained asleep in the Jeep—and as long as he stayed asleep, and didn’t get out, no one would see him.

Allie couldn’t believe the collection of junk around her—a lot of it sorted into piles and stacks, some of which towered over her head—and between the stacks were vehicles parked every which way. Most of them seemed to be from the 1940s or 50s.

A few of Mary’s children were wandering about, but the deadspot was so cluttered, and the branchlike flashes of St. Elmo’s fire were so distracting, that Allie and Clarence were able to slip out of the pickup truck without being seen.

There was more activity deeper in the deadspot, but the farther in they moved, the harder it was to hide. Clarence had it easier, since he could hide at least the living-world parts of his body within larger Everlost objects.

“If your plan was to get captured, you’re doing a great job,” Clarence told her from within a pile of air conditioners.

The current plan was to isolate Mary, and push her down into the living world, because unless they pla

“We’re going to have to lure her to the edge of the deadspot,” Allie told Clarence.

“And how do you propose we do that? If you show your face, they’ll grab you and bring you to her, right there in the middle, not at the edge. And if I show my face . . .”

“Right; they’ll all run, and Mary will surround herself with Afterlights to protect herself.”

They pondered their dilemma, until an answer came from a very unexpected source.

“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, pla

“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 go

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?”