Morpheus Road 03 - The Blood

by D. J. MacHale

  "I'd go out of my mind," Marsh added.

  "You wouldn't be alone. These spirits just seem . . . lost."

  Marsh and Cooper stared for a moment at the men and women who wandered the streets of Stony Brook, helplessly trapped in a memory that could only taunt them with images of a life that would never again be theirs.

  "Keep moving," Coop said. "This is way too depressing."

  They left the corrupted image of their hometown to pass through many others that weren't recognizable, all while constantly crossing paths with hundreds of aimless souls. Every so often a spirit would look to them and open his mouth to let out a chilling moan that added to the white noise of sorrow and lament.

  "Tell me you know where you're going," Coop said. "If I have to take much more of this, I'm gonna start wailing too."

  "I don't know how much farther," Marsh answered. "But we're headed the right way. Don't you feel it?"

  Coop shrugged. "I don't like anything I'm feeling right now."

  They soon found themselves in a wooded park. A broken and burned gazebo had fallen on its side, never to host another performance. Black fountains spewed glowing neon orange water. Twisted bicycles lay haphazardly on the dark grass, their bent wheels spinning slowly with haunting squeaks.

  "We're getting close," Marsh announced.

  "Seriously? The Watcher hangs out in a haunted park?"

  Marsh turned onto a worn footpath that meandered through drooping trees. After a few turns the path emptied into a large clearing where a broad pond was waiting. The water glowed orange, the same as the water that sprang from the fountains. An island loomed in the dead center, upon which was built a clock tower that stood three stories high. Near the top were four white clock faces, one on each side of the tower. Each showed a different time. Beneath it, the tower walls were made of glass to reveal the clockwork within. A giant pendulum swung incessantly, moving the gears and creating a mechanical whirring sound that mercifully helped to drown out some of the moans.

  "That's the first thing we've seen that isn't a wreck," Coop observed. "Do you think the Watcher is in there?"

  "One way to find out."

  A narrow, rickety wooden walkway was built from the shore and spanned the few yards of pond water to end on the island. Coop took the lead and strode for it. He was about to set foot on the first plank, when Marsh grabbed him from behind.

  "Wait," he ordered. "We're not alone."

  They had been so focused on the mysterious clock tower that they hadn't realized they were slowly and quietly being surrounded. A half-circle of spirits had appeared between them and the surrounding forest. There was a mix of people of every age and race who stood shoulder to shoulder, their dead eyes focused on Marsh and Coop as they moved slowly toward them.

  "Zombies," Coop gasped.

  "No, spirits of the damned," Marsh corrected.

  The spirits had cut them off from going anywhere but out toward the island. Coop turned onto the footbridge and started across, with Marsh right behind. Halfway to the island he looked ahead and stopped suddenly.

  "Uh-oh," Coop exclaimed.

  Another spirit, a heavyset biker dude with a long beard and a tattoo of a snake on his cheek, stood on the bridge ahead of them.

  "Trouble Town," Coop declared.

  Marsh called out to the biker, "We're looking for the Watcher."

  The guy didn't react. None of the spirits did. They simply continued to inch their way closer, tightening the noose.

  Coop pulled his black sword from his belt and held it low, ready to fight.

  "Don't go there," Marsh cautioned him.

  "Me? They're the ones moving on us."

  Marsh called again, "Can you help us? We're here to find the Watcher."

  This time he got an answer. Every last spirit opened their mouth and let out a single, sustained moan.

  Marsh and Coop drew closer to each other for support.

  "What are they doing?" Marsh asked nervously.

  "I think maybe Damon has already done some recruiting."

  "So what do we do?"

  "We get outta here," Coop answered.

  He spun toward the biker and went on the attack with an adrenaline-fueled scream.

  "No, don't!" Marsh warned.

  Too late.

  The spirit didn't react or try to defend himself against the crazed guy with a sword who was headed his way.

  Cooper didn't hesitate. He thrust the blade forward and skewered the spirit square in the chest. The spirit flinched, its moan suddenly cut off.

  But he didn’t disappear.

  "Oh this isn't good," Coop said with dismay.

  The spirit stared right at Coop with dead doll eyes, then opened its mouth and continued to moan. Coop snapped. He pulled the sword out of the spirit and threw a punch to the snake tattoo on its ashen face. The biker staggered, fell over the wooden railing, and landed in the orange water of the pond.

  "Coop!" Marsh screamed.

  Coop turned to see Marsh on the walkway behind him, fighting off several spirits that were trying to pull him back toward land. Coop dropped the sword on the walkway and tried to free Marsh, but the spirits outnumbered them. With continual mind-numbing moans they grappled Marsh back to land while others descended on Cooper. Cooper swung and kicked but only managed to land a few satisfying shots. It was as if the spirits were numbed into feeling no pain. They swarmed Cooper and held him tight.

  The crowd of spirits moved as one, pulling Marsh and Cooper away from the bridge and along the shore of the pond. Marsh and Coop fought to free themselves, but it was useless.

  The spirits dragged them along the shore and into the orange water.

  "Whoa! Wait!" Coop bellowed.

  "Why are you doing this?" Marsh screamed.

  The water was hot. Coop turned toward the island and saw the biker spirit surfacing from below, his dead eyes once again fixed on his prey, his mouth still open and moaning as orange water drooled over his lips.

  The spirits pulled them deeper into the water.

  "They're gonna drown us!" Marsh screamed.

  Coop's mind couldn't comprehend what was happening. Could they be drowned? Could their spirits be destroyed that way in the Blood?

  "Help!" Marsh screamed toward the clock tower. "Are you in there? We were sent by another Watcher!"

  The spirits forced Marsh's and Cooper's heads under the glowing water. Marsh fought to get back to the surface and kept on yelling.

  "Where are you?" he screamed, desperately hoping that the Watcher was within earshot.

  The biker dude reached out for Coop, clutching his neck with strong, cold hands.

  Coop was helpless against the big spirit's strength. He desperately tried to pull the guy's hands away, but it was no use. The spirit was driving him under the water.

  Suddenly the moaning ended. A moment later the spirits released their hold.

  Marsh and Coop scrambled away from the spirits while tripping and splashing their way to shore.

  "You okay?" Coop sputtered.

  Marsh coughed, and nodded.

  "What happened?" Coop asked.

  "I think he did," Marsh said, pointing to the island.

  A man stood on the wooden walkway. The light from the clock face was directly behind his head, throwing him into silhouette. He stood with his legs apart, staring down at the boys. His hair was shaggy, falling well below his ears. He wore a long, black coat over dark clothing.

  "Who sent you?" the man asked in a deep, confidant voice.

  "A Watcher, " Marsh answered. "A woman. She sent us here to find the Watcher who stopped Brennus from destroying the Morpheus Road."

  "Why?" the man asked.

  Unlike the other spirits, this spirit showed presence and intelligence.

  Coop answered. "Because there's another spirit running around trying to finish what Brennus started."

  "Many spirits have come here seeking vengeance for what happened to Brennus," the man said.

 
The attacking spirits stood still and quiet, like robots that had been shut down.

  "Look, chief," Coop called out. "We're not here to bother you, whoever you are. We're looking for some badass Watcher who took Brennus down. So either point us in the right direction or get out of the way."

  The man stood still for a long moment, then walked slowly along the walkway toward shore. The leather soles of his black cowboy boots fell heavily on the wooden planks.

  The rest of the spirits didn't move or moan. They stood motionless in the water, staring at nothing.

  As the man strode across the bridge, he reached down and retrieved Coop's black sword. After examining it like a curious prize, he shrugged and said, "This has no power here."

  "Yeah, we found that out," replied Coop.

  "Where did you get it?" the man asked as he stepped off the bridge and walked along the shore toward Marsh and Coop.

  "There's been a standoff going on in the Black for centuries," Coop explained. "Both sides have those swords. We thought the good guys had won, but Damon had bigger plans."

  "Damon?" the man repeated.

  "That's the spirit who's looking for Brennus," Marsh said. "He's got a weapon that he used to rip open a Rift into the Blood, and another Rift between the Black and the Light."

  The man shot a surprised look to Marsh. "You're saying that spirits can travel freely along the Morpheus Road?"

  Coop answered, "Yeah, but that's nothing compared to what Damon wants to use them for. Stop with the questions. Who are you?"

  The man felt the weight of the sword, then raised it high and drove it into the ground.

  "I'm the one you've been looking for," he said. "Now who the heck are you?"

  18

  "He ate people's sins?" Coop asked, incredulous. "Like . . . munching on a turkey leg?"

  "The power of the human spirit has few limits," the Watcher answered. "I don't know if the whole feasting ceremony was necessary other than to help Brennus believe he was actually taking on the negative history of the dead. But he thought it worked, so it did."

  Cooper and Marsh were sitting in the dwelling of the Watcher. They had crossed the rickety footbridge to the island, where a small door at the base of the clock tower opened to reveal a narrow set of circular stairs leading down. The Watcher led them to a subterranean room that was decorated with bits and pieces taken from many ages and visions. Most of the furniture was wooden and heavy as if it belonged in a mountain cabin. The artwork looked as if it had come from a museum, with works by past masters that the boys recognized from field trips to New York. Classical Greek busts stood next to a bronze pirouetting ballerina that danced beneath an alien-looking mobile. It was an eclectic oasis that showed no signs of the sad decay that characterized every other aspect of the Blood. It wasn't at all what Marsh and Cooper expected.

  Neither was the Watcher. He sat in a chair with his boots up on a desk, flipping a basketball back and forth, looking every bit like somebody's youthful dad.

  Or uncle.

  Marsh asked, "And he kept on eating sins in the Black after he died?"

  The Watcher nodded. "It destroyed whatever shred of humanity he had left. When he was finally sent to the Blood, he was in his element. He rallied thousands of desperate souls with the promise of escape."

  Unlike the Watcher who had sent them there, this man spoke normally with his words coming from his mouth. "But you stopped him," Marsh said.

  "Many spirits didn't go along with him. A good number fought back because of the trouble he was causing."

  "Trouble?" Coop exclaimed with a laugh. "How can this place get any worse?"

  "You have no idea," the Watcher said. "With no true order, the visions overlap."

  "We've seen that," Marsh said. "You don't know when you're moving from one to the next."

  "Exactly. Spirits try to maintain some sanity by keeping to their own personal vision, which is bad enough, but when you pile on the horror of other visions, it makes being here unbearable. Brennus agitated the spirits and moved them around, which created chaos by jumbling multiple visions together and making it impossible for any spirit to stay within their own space. So yes, he made the Blood worse than it already was."

  "He made it hell to be in hell," Coop said.

  "I guess you could put it that way," the Watcher said. "A group of spirits banded together to try to return some sense of balance. They captured Brennus and put him in a place where he can't use his influence. He's in a prison within a prison."

  "Why didn't you just destroy him and be done with it?" Coop asked.

  "I would never end a spirit's life," the Watcher said with total conviction.

  "So what exactly do the Watchers do?" Marsh asked.

  "We help spirits evolve. That's what the Black is all about. Every spirit's journey is different. There's no set time to spend in the Black. One spirit could exist there for a very short time, others may be there for centuries. We observe and ultimately decide when they are ready to move on."

  "So where do you come from?" Marsh asked.

  "We're not an alien race, if that's what you mean," the guy answered. "We're the evolved spirit of mankind. We're you. Unfortunately, not all spirits evolve, no matter how much time they spend in the Black. That's why the Blood exists."

  The Watcher flipped the basketball into the air and spun it on one finger.

  Coop gave Marsh a "Not bad" look of approval.

  Marsh said, "But you seem so . . . normal."

  "I'll take that as a compliment," the Watcher said with a laugh. "Coming here put me on the same level as every other spirit. I have no unique powers or abilities in the Blood."

  Coop said, "You had plenty of power over those spirits who were trying to drown us."

  "Those are some of the spirits who fought back against Brennus. I think they're afraid of me. I'm not sure why but I'm sure as heck not going to tell them otherwise."

  "Why you?" Coop asked. "How did you get this mission?"

  The Watcher shrugged. "It wasn't the first time I was called upon. It's rare that we step in to try and offer direct guidance to mankind, but it has happened in a few dire situations. The last time was when one of our own felt he was better suited to determine the path of human events than mankind itself. He caused quite a stir in the Light for a while by working to influence the natural course of entire societies, and not for the better."

  "What happened?" Marsh asked.

  "Mankind triumphed, as it always does." He gave a sly smile and added, "I just helped nudge it in the right direction."

  "If it's so rare, why did you come here to help the spirits of the damned?" Marsh asked.

  "Brennus posed a threat like no other," the Watcher explained. "If he had succeeded the entire Morpheus Road would have been at risk, which meant all of humanity was in danger."

  Marsh said, "But even if he rallied every last soul in the Blood, it wasn't like he could leave. Could he?"

  "Not likely," the Watcher said. "But there's no telling what he might have accomplished with the combined strength of that many spirits. Mankind is always evolving, as is the Morpheus Road. The risk was too great. But I still wouldn't have intervened if not for the fact that so many spirits had already chosen to stop him. That's what tipped the scale. That's why I came to help them."

  "And haven't left," Coop said.

  The Watcher shrugged. "Like I said, Brennus still exists."

  "And the Morpheus Road is in danger again," Marsh said gravely. "Except this time there's a way out of the Blood."

  The Watcher's expression turned dark. "You were sent here to tell me everything. So tell me."

  Coop and Marsh laid out the whole story: Damon's atrocities in life, his using the poleax to tear open a Rift into the Black, and the cursed crucibles that had kept him away from the poleax. They told him how Ree and Ennis's discovery of the poleax in the Light put it back on Damon's radar and how Damon pulled Marsh and Cooper into his web of horror to try and find it. They told of
the battle between Damon's forces and the Guardians of the Rift and how the Watchers intervened to send Damon's minions into the Blood. And ultimately, they told of how Damon finally retrieved the poleax and ripped open two new Rifts.

  Coop ended the story by saying, "So Damon is here, looking to team up with Brennus and whatever spirits he convinced to follow him."

  The Watcher listened to the saga without interrupting. The only sign that he was disturbed by what he was hearing was when he occasionally fired the basketball from hand to hand.

  "So that's it," Coop said. "The whole twisted story. What happens now?"

  The Watcher shrugged. "I don't know. You tell me."

  "But . . . the other Watcher said you'd help us," Marsh said.

  "Okay. What would you like me to do?"

  "What do you think?" Coop exclaimed. "Stop Damon."

  "I think maybe that's your job," the Watcher replied.

  "What!" Coop shouted. "No! You've got to do it."

  "I'm sorry. We don't interfere."

  "Yes, you do," argued Marsh. "That's why you came here in the first place."

  "I came here to help the spirits of the Blood find their own way," the Watcher corrected. "If you expect me to wave my hand and send the bad guys to oblivion, you're mistaken."

  "But . . . why?" Coop demanded.

  "Because we only reflect the wishes of mankind."

  "Okay, fine!" Coop shouted. "Here's my wish: Destroy Damon. How's that?"

  The Watcher chuckled and said, "I'm afraid your wishes don't carry more weight than any other spirit's."

  "But don't most spirits want to defeat the bad guys and reward the good guys?" Marsh asked, confused.

  The Watcher tossed the basketball to him and said, "Good and bad are subjective concepts. Ultimately spirits like Brennus and Damon decide their own fate . . . no matter how wrong other spirits may think they are."

  "So then, why are we here?" Marsh asked. "Why are you here?"

  "I can guide you into making choices that will help get you what you want," he answered. "That's all we ever do. As to why you're here, well, that's up to you to decide."

  "This is just stupid!" Coop shouted, angrily jumping to his feet. "We're facing the apocalypse and all you can say is, 'Well, it’s your choice. Sorry.' Give me a break."