by J. L. Powers
“How can I possibly be agreeable when I’m tied up?”
He fingers the symbol around his neck. “You’ve encountered La Luz before. You came into contact with one of our operatives. You were with your dad, I believe? In search of a book? And then you and your girlfriend met him again a few days later?”
“Yeah, he was a real asshole.”
Amaros smiles. “That ‘asshole’ led us to you. He recognized your father. And you. He figured out you were Reapers.”
“So . . . you’re interested in me because I’m a Reaper?”
“Zachary was a useful vessel. When we got to the island where your so-called school is located, he was able to get me into Limbo there. But getting into Limbo in Reaper territory is impossible without a Reaper, and we need to parlay with your father. We already knew you were a Reaper but he was also able to point us in Rachel’s direction as a possible Reaper. So we are checking her out too.”
I catch my breath. “You kidnapped Rachel?”
“Now, now. Be wary of using that word, Adam. You should be grateful. There’s more to us than what you’ve experienced so far. Or heard from others.”
“And kidnapping me—and one of my best friends—is going to convince me of this?”
He makes a tsk-tsk sound with his tongue. “‘Kidnap’ is such a strong word.” Little furry ears sprout out of his head, a tail splits his pants. His teeth—long, yellowed canines—gleam.
Oh. I see. I’m not dealing with someone rational.
“I was hoping you could help me convince your Reaper relatives to ‘see the light,’ so to speak. Ha ha!” The creature actually laughs like he made a joke. “I need to contact your father and the safest way is in Limbo. That’s where you can help me. So I don’t want to harm you. In fact, I would love to compensate you for the trouble. I’m not offering you something so vulgar as money, either, though let me assure you—I could. No. I am offering you something that many men have spent considerable money trying to attain. This is why you should be grateful to our operative for putting us in touch.”
I’m not speaking to this animal. Resolutely, I stare at the wall, but then I begin to feel blinded by all the white. My eyes shift, searching for color, and I inadvertently look at him. The wolf’s gone and he’s back to Amaros in Zachary’s body, just some old guy trying to sell me something.
“Adam, what are your feelings about death?”
“Are you threatening me?”
“No, just trying to find out exactly where you stand.”
“Unlock. My. Foot.”
He gets up. “Very well, have it your way. Perhaps you will be more amenable tomorrow.”
He closes the door behind him and that’s when I notice the book on the chair. I don’t even have to look to know what it is, brown paper covering up the same symbol that dangles from Amaros’s neck.
* * *
Eventually, the sun goes down and it gets dark. I’m trying to think of a way to get out of here. If I go to Limbo, my dad will find me—eventually—and I can tell him where I am so he can send out a posse to save me. Or maybe he can even travel from my Limbo to where my body is, I don’t know. But will Dad make it to Limbo before She eats me alive?
Going there is the last thing I ever wanted to do. Avoided it so much that I’ve been sleep-deprived for a year, probably longer. But now I’m praying: Please take me there tonight. Please.
CHAPTER 26
And then somebody’s knocking on the door and I wake up, early-morning light spilling in through the window.
Crappity crap crap crap. I didn’t fall into Limbo last night.
I open the door to find breakfast on a tray—eggs, bacon, toast, and coffee. Half-and-half. Sugar. I wonder who the cook is. Amaros? The lumberjack? The bookseller? Honestly, it doesn’t matter. They apparently didn’t poison my last meal. I devour the eggs and bacon and suck down coffee like a drowning man.
At least eating is something to do so I don’t have to think about the book, the book my eyes keep wandering back to, the book I’m not going to touch.
Then I glance at the symbol on the cover and my hand steals out to touch it.
I jerk my arm back. Nope. Not going to do it. I know Dad gave me the book, but if Amaros wants me to read it, I have this feeling I should stay away from it. At least for now.
So let’s find something else to do. Wahoo! Maybe I can pick the lint out of my belly button.
I peer out the window for a while, imagining my escape route, if escape is possible.
Pace the floor.
Get a drink of water from the bathroom tap.
Sit on the floor.
Sit on the bed.
Look through the empty closet.
Look out the window.
See the book.
Sit on the bed.
Think about the book.
One hundred and fifty-seven, maybe fifty-eight, floorboards. It’s hard to tell. There’s a spot in the very back of the room where I can’t quite reach. So there are either 157 or 158 floorboards.
A water stain on the ceiling looks exactly like a silhouette of Elvis’s hair. The King is visiting me!
Glance at the book again.
Okay, it feels like hours have passed but I have a sinking feeling that I’ve amused myself for less than fifteen minutes.
For some reason, the death poem I read the night Sean, Tomás, and I snuck out and rowed to the nearby island comes to mind:
Coming, all is clear, no
doubt about it. Going, all is
clear, without a doubt.
What, then, is all?
If I’m going to count, I might as well count something more important than floorboards. I take a quick inventory of my “all.” I suppose “all” is different for everybody. My all is mostly people.
My mind focuses on the image of a grim smile, an endless room filled with nothing but books. Dad. His shadow has always been complicated. A mountain, an ocean, a room of books. I circle around the image of him in my mind.
My mother, the fuzzy edges of her, the yellow dress, the freckles. I circle her too.
Of course, Rachel’s in that “all.” She’s pretty much my best friend at school. I wish I’d told her more stuff. Like about Liliana and Limbo and Her.
Tomás and Sean. Glad I met those dudes.
Aileen and Jacob. Even Zachary. Yeah, okay, it sucks but my all has to include Zachary.
If I make it out of here, those are the people who will be in my life pretty much forever, I’m guessing.
Then there are my friends in the “real” world: Jeremy and Carlos and Sarah. That is, if Sarah’s even still my friend. But even if she’s mad, or even if she’s dead, she’s still part of my all.
And then there’s Liliana. Yes, my all includes Liliana.
A tear pricks my eyelids. I hope I get to see those alls again sometime.
My gaze falls on the book. I turn away.
Lunch is red beans and rice with sausage. I eat as slowly as possible. Afterward, I take a short nap. When I wake up, I run in place, the chain clanking on the floor. I do push-ups. Sit-ups. Burpees. I think about all those political prisoners who kept fit while locked away, men like Nelson Mandela. Will I be here that long? It doesn’t seem possible. One night and I’m already going crazy.
There’s a knock on the door and Amaros enters. “How are you doing, Adam?” He actually sounds interested in what I’ll say.
“I’m fine. Unlock my chain.”
“I can’t do that. Have you read the book yet?”
“No.”
“What a pity. So, tell me, how do you feel about your father dying?”
“Shove it. Shove it up your—”
“You know, dying isn’t inevitable. There are alternatives.”
Like what? is on the tip of my tongue. I bite it back.
“Let me know if you want to talk. I don’t mind listening. And read that book. Trust me, you won’t regret it. I’m a bit disappointed you haven’t already given in
to what I suspect is ravenous curiosity.”
“Unlock my chain.”
He laughs and walks out the door.
The next time Amaros visits—hours or maybe just a few minutes later, I don’t know, time has lost all meaning here—I’m so bored that I actually ask, “Why are you so obsessed with death?”
“Oh, I’m not obsessed with death, Adam. Quite the opposite. I’m enamored with life and how to prolong it. Money, power, happiness—these things are all subservient to our need for life. I ask you how you feel about death because I’ve noticed it’s the only way to make westerners confront their mortality. It’s funny how we don’t cherish life until it’s coming to an end . . . Don’t snicker, Adam. It doesn’t become you.”
“Fine,” I say. “It’s just—why are YOU lecturing me about death? You’re a total hypocrite. You’re not facing death.”
“I didn’t say anything about facing death. I’m saying that if you want to live forever, you must have a real loathing of death. Surely you of all people know this.”
Gobsmacked, my forehead aches. Yeah, he’s right. I hate death. I do. I loathe it.
“If you could live forever, Adam, would you?”
Whatever else, I can’t tell this animal-man what I really think. “I’m too young to think about death.”
He makes a beeping sound. “Wrong answer. You’re never too young to be wise. Listen to your fears. They will guide you on the path to eternal life.”
I wonder what Amaros thinks “all” is—if he bothers to think about it. He seems determined to hold onto his all.
“Everybody dies sometime,” I say. “Maybe you’ve found a way to cheat death for now, but it can’t last forever.”
Amaros laughs in my face. It starts out as a high giggle and then reaches a low point where it shuts off completely. “Maybe you should read that book. Maybe you’ll find it useful. Before it’s too late.”
We lock eyes as he stands. Bile rises in my throat, my soul rising up with it, through my esophagus. I clamp down hard, almost biting off my tongue. I won’t let this vile man look at my soul. I won’t.
“Very good, Adam. You’re strong. If you cooperate, I will show you how to find eternal life. But you must give me an answer by tomorrow. Will you help me or not?”
“Is that your final offer? Eternal life?”
He smirks.
“Eternal life or what? If I say no, are you going to kill me?”
“Toodle-oo.” He waves coyly as he leaves.
If Amaros is offering me eternal life, and Dad says the answer is in this book, does that mean I’ll find the answer myself if I read it? Or am I saying yes to Amaros if I read it? Is this one big cosmic trick?
Aw, what the hell. I don’t even know the Synod. But I know my father and he’s the one who said, “Books should never be forbidden. The most dangerous ideas are those we try to suppress.”
I pick the book up and flip it open.
IN THE BEGINNING, the world was made, and everything that existed was good. Every living thing was in order and death was not at the doorstep of mankind. This was how the world was made and this is how the Mysteries will restore what was good. Everything that was will be again . . .
Suddenly the light seems too bright, my eyes water at the edges, the words swim out of focus. I slam the book shut.
What does that mean? This is how the Mysteries will restore what was good. Everything that was will be again . . . Does it mean my mother will be returned from the place of death? Is the book talking about more than just eternal life for those of us who haven’t died yet but eternal life for everybody, even those who’ve already passed to the other side?
I practically hit my head on the wall, I’m so startled when something or somebody thuds against the door with a grunt.
Amaros again? Already?
I open the door just as somebody pushes it open. It stops with a jarring thump, hitting my forehead and knocking me backward. “Ow!” Sparks flare at the edge of my vision.
Liliana pops through the door and grins at me. “Am I disturbing your beauty sleep?” Her hair is a wild, tangled mess, like she’s been camping out in the woods for a week or maybe stuck her finger in an electric socket in order to get here or something.
I bear-hug her. “How in the world did you find me?”
“Oh, honey, it wasn’t hard.” She goes out the door and returns, dragging Lumberjack into the room, a needle and syringe sticking out of his throat. We haul him to the closet, folding his feet up to close the door. “I followed you guys in a boat, which I stole, and which I assume will also be held against me by the ever-wonderful Principal Armand, though after expelling me, there’s not a lot more he can do to me. Then I went back for reinforcements. That’s why it took me so long to come get you.”
She tugs on the chain locked around my ankle. “It’s a good thing I came prepared.” She heaves a backpack onto the floor and pulls a bent needlelike object from the front pocket. “You wouldn’t believe what people hide behind completely inadequate locks.”
I turn my leg over so she can pick at the lock.
“Nice tighty-whities.” She grins at my leg.
“Shut up.” My leg starts to cramp. I shift.
“Don’t move,” she instructs. “I’ve got the two hard pins set and if you make me lose those, I swear I’ll punch you in the crotch!”
I sit still, gritting my teeth, the cramp slowly moving up my calf into my thigh. Drops of sweat roll down her temples. My heart cramps right along with my leg.
The doorknob starts turning. “Someone’s coming in,” I whisper.
The lock pops open and the chain falls with a clank onto the floor. I’m expecting Amaros to step into the room, not sure what we might have to do when he sees Liliana.
But it isn’t Amaros. First a riot of dreadlocks, then a face I recognize.
“Boo,” Liliana whispers.
All of my muscles turn liquid in relief. Liliana’s reinforcements! I unclench my fists. “Tomás!”
“Good to see you too, man.” He smiles at me. “We better clear out while we can, Lili.”
“Where’s Dullahan?” Liliana asks.
“He’s following Zachary.”
“Okay, let’s find Rachel first. Then we’ll figure out what to do about Zachary.”
I shove my legs into my jeans, making the tighty-whities disappear. “Let’s hurry. Please.”
“What’s the deal with you and Rachel, Adam? You guys seem to be joined at the hip.” She winks at me. “I’d be jealous but that’s not my style.”
Tomás rolls his eyes. “Shut up or Sean’s the one who’ll be jealous.”
“That little pipsqueak?” Liliana counters. “What’s he got to be jealous of?”
“Never mind,” Tomás says. “Let’s get out of here.”
We creep out of the room, then slowly down the halls, backs to the white walls, placing our feet carefully to avoid making too much noise. The enormous house we’re in is perfectly silent, as though it’s listening to us.
CHAPTER 27
Even though we put one foot carefully in front of the other, the stairs creak like a thousand chirping bats. We all wince but nobody comes running. Thank goodness.
The stairs open up into some sort of living room. The white furniture against the dark wood floor looks like a blizzard threw up all over the earth. Somebody’s sitting on the white couch. We only know this because the shoes are visible from where we perch; we can’t see the body they belong to.
But I know those shoes, the scuffed brown leather and three lace holes, laces beaten and frayed. I sat next to those shoes for two months, the best two months of my life, reading books and eating cookies and arguing about the things we read.
Why’d Rachel have to get sucked into this?
We peer around the wall. She’s sitting by herself on the couch, staring straight ahead at a point on the white wall opposite her. She doesn’t move. She doesn’t blink. Is she dead?
“I’m go
ing in there,” I whisper.
Liliana gives me a thumbs-up.
When I step into the room, Rachel breaks out of her trance. Her eyebrows draw together in a crooked line, just a little off-center.
“Rachel, are you okay?” I whisper.
“Sorry,” she replies in a voice too loud for comfort. “I thought you were my sister.”
“You don’t have a sister.”
She glares at me. “Who the hell are you?”
“I’m Adam. And I think I may be the closest thing you have to family, as sad as that may seem.”
“Well, I don’t know who you are but I do know that my sister was just here talking to me. She went to get us a bedtime snack. So you can bug off.”
She narrows her eyes and tries to look mean but I know Rachel too well. Deep down in those brown eyes of her, I see a pool of fear and uncertainty, clouded over by hallucination.
Liliana catapults over the couch. She pulls me with her and we hunker down behind the couch as the wood squeaks and someone clunks heavily into the room, the tread too forceful to be anybody other than Zachary. I mean, Amaros-in-Zachary’s-body.
I press my cheek against the wooden floor and look under the couch to the other side. Sure enough, Zachary’s sneakers line up toe to toe with Rachel’s shoes.
“What’d you get us?” Rachel’s voice has this excited, happy-little-girl quality to it.
“Pickles,” Amaros answers in a dry voice.
“Chocolate, yum,” Rachel says.
“I need your help, darling.”
“Whatever you need, you know I’ll do anything.”
“I hope so. This is important,” Amaros says.
“Just don’t leave me again,” she pleads. “I don’t know where Mom and Dad went and I don’t think I can make it on my own.” Need bleeds through every word.
“I’ll try.” Amaros sucks on his teeth as he speaks. “But the only way I can stay is if you help me get to Limbo. If you can’t, I may have to leave forever.”
Rachel bursts into tears. “But I’ve tried and I don’t know how.”
“I’ll help you.” He soothes with his voice, a hairbrush gently untangling a knot of hair. “Just relax and don’t worry. Imagine we’re doing something fun. When you get lost in the memory, you can just . . . float . . . right into Limbo.”
