"Incredible," was all Ree could say.
Marsh slid down the couch, reached for the picture, and picked it up. He wasn't even freaked out by the impossible event. He had been through too much. He looked at it with a frown of confusion. Then his expression changed. I saw it. It was so clear. He sat back on the couch and I knew that he had finally accepted the truth, because he started to cry.
"He knows," Ree said sadly.
"Nice, Ralph."
"I'm going back," she said, abruptly standing up.
"You don't have to. You can go see Mr. Seaver too."
"I know. But right now it's just . . . it's breaking my heart."
She backed across the room, all the while staying focused on Marsh, who was staring at the photo.
"Thanks, Coop," she said.
"For what?"
"Closure."
I nodded in understanding, but things were far from closed. Not with Damon still on the loose. Ree left for the Black but I didn't follow. I had other plans. Call it morbid fascination, but I wanted to watch the search for my body.
The searchers assembled throughout the night, but they didn't hit the lake until daybreak. At first it was cool seeing all the rescue vehicles and firefighters and volunteers swarming the lakeshore. Of course most of them were wasting their time. I knew where my body was. Still, knowing that so many people were out looking for me was good for the ego.
The fun didn't last. Seeing how tortured my mom and dad and sister were was tough. I knew what it was all leading to. By the time the rescue boats made their way to Emerald Cove and the divers splashed in, I'd lost my stomach for the adventure. I didn't need to see the last chapter of my physical life play out. Besides, I didn't particularly want to see my body after it had been underwater for a week. I'm a good-looking guy. I preferred to hang on to that image.
I also bailed on the moment when the official news of the discovery was delivered to my family. I didn't want to see that moment of pain. That's an experience no person, or spirit, should have to live through. I'd want to assure them that everything was okay and being in the Black was kind of cool and that I'd see them all again someday, but I knew that was impossible. If I couldn't make it better, I didn't want to be there.
I didn't miss my funeral, though. No way. I wonder how many people show up for their own funeral. Probably close to 100 percent. Why not? How many chances do you get to watch people gathered for the sole purpose of saying nice things about you? That wasn't something I wanted to miss and I'm proud to say that my funeral was packed. SRO. Psyche.
The service was at the old church on the Ave. I was glad to see my entire football team there, wearing their team jackets. Nice touch. Many other kids from Davis Gregory came along with teachers and relatives and friends of my parents. Man, they could have sold tickets. And there wasn't a dry eye in the house. That sounds cold because I know how genuinely upset people were, but I'd be lying if I said it didn't make me feel pretty good to know that so many people cared. There's the ego thing again. Everybody should attend their own funeral, unless they were jerks in life or something. That would be awkward.
The tough part was seeing my family. Mom and Dad were dazed. Sydney looked great, as usual. Leave it to her to find a black dress for a funeral that made it seem like she'd just come from a fashion shoot. I thought it was pretty cool how Marsh and Mr. Seaver sat with my family. I felt like I was part of the Seaver family and having them sit with mine made total sense.
I also didn't like seeing the casket. Having that thing sitting in the center aisle, covered with flowers, knowing my body was inside, was creepy. I could have done without that.
I was proud of Marsh. He's not comfortable speaking in front of people, let alone at a funeral, but he manned up and gave an awesome eulogy. I especially liked the way he ended it when he said: "Cooper taught me how to have fun. He made me laugh at things that most people wouldn't find funny. He taught me to take chances and not be afraid to fail. He taught me not to stress over details but to never accept second best. We visited Trouble Town more times than I can count, and I wouldn't have had it any other way. Does any of this sound familiar?"
Sydney actually smiled. That was a highlight.
Marsh continued, "I'm a better person for having known Cooper Foley, and that's something that won't change when memories fade. I'm going to make sure of it."
He then looked up to the ceiling, as if I was floating up there, and called out, "And, Coop, wherever you are, I'll bet you're listening to all this and thinking you're something special after hearing all the nice things these people have said about you. Right? I don't blame you. And I want to say one more thing. I owe you."
I'm sure that everybody thought he was doing that for effect, but that wasn't so. He knew I was there.
"No problem, Ralph," I called back. He didn't hear it, but I'll bet he knew I said it.
I didn't want to go to the cemetery. That would have felt a little too final, especially the part about lowering the casket into the ground. Instead, I wanted to speak with somebody who could actually hear me and talk back. Who knows? Maybe that meant I was moving on and accepting my fate.
I left the Ave in the Light and went to Ree's vision in the Black. I wanted to tell her about how awesome Marsh was. I wanted her to know how proud I was of him, and how glad I was to have known him.
Arriving at her vision of Grand Central Terminal was eerie. Nothing had changed since the Watchers had opened up the portal into the Blood except that the black swords were gone. I figured they had been collected by the remaining Guardians and hoped they'd never have to use them. Seeing the terminal in such bad shape made me wonder if Ree's vision would ever return to normal. Could the terminal be repaired? Or would it be this way for as long as Ree was in the Black?
"Hello?" I called out. "Ree?"
No answer. I jogged down the stairs and made my way to the subway platform, thinking she would be in her rolling home. The subway car was there, but Ree wasn't. There were no Guardians around, either. I didn't think much of it. She could have been anywhere. For all I knew she was at the cemetery in the Light, paying her respects at my funeral. I didn't want to hang out until she got back. The place was giving me the creeps.
I left her vision and went to see Gramps. There was a lot we had to talk about and the sooner we got things out in the open, the sooner we could go back to being normal . . . or at least what passed for normal. When I stepped out of the colorful cloud onto his property, I sensed that something was off. The day was darker than usual. The sky was overcast. It was definitely his vision, though, because it was fall and the vegetable garden was still loaded with tomatoes. I ran onto the porch and knocked on the door.
"Gramps? It's me!"
No answer. I pushed the door open and stepped inside. "Hey! Gramps!"
Nothing. I stepped back out onto the porch to see the trees swaying in a stiff wind. I told myself that nothing was wrong. Gramps could have been at Meade's Pharmacy sucking down one of Donna's famous malteds. That's what I told myself, but I wasn't so sure I believed it. Was it possible that after admitting to the truth, Gramps had ended up moving along the Morpheus Road? It was possible. The question was, which way would he have gone?
I needed to see a familiar face, so I jumped off the porch and ran toward Maggie's house. The colored swirl appeared in front of me and by the time I vaulted the split rail fence between properties, I had left Gramps' vision and arrived in Maggie's.
The day didn't get any brighter. The last time I was there her vision had begun to warm up, along with Maggie's future. Whatever changes had been made, were gone. The chilly wind blew through the barren trees under dark gray skies, banging the barn door open against the outer wall.
"Maggie!" I called out.
I wasn't ready to panic, but I was close. Something was wrong. Everyone I knew in the Black was missing. Their visions were intact but they'd changed. They felt dead.
There's no better word to describe it. The life of th
e visions was gone, and so were the people I cared about. Had they all moved on to another life? Did visions remain after a spirit moved on? That wasn't likely.
But something had definitely happened, and it wasn't good.
I wished there had been at least one black sword still lying around Grand Central because I would have gone back for it. It would have given me a lot more confidence in doing what I had to do. The calm after the storm was over. I had to find answers and I knew where to get them.
I had to go to Damon's vision.
When I stepped through the colorful fog, I was ready for anything. I leaped out on full alert, expecting a fight.
What happened instead was . . . nothing. Literally nothing. I left Maggie's vision and landed in limbo. It was a sea of pure white. There was no up or down, east or west. I wasn't floating, but there was no ground beneath my feet. There was no sound, either. Or smell or sensation of any kind.
I thought I had taken a wrong turn. This wasn't Damon's vision. This was no vision at all. It was wrong and I feared it had something to do with the disappearance of Ree, Maggie, and Gramps.
I was about to leave and step into my own vision when I sensed movement. Turning quickly, I saw that I was no longer alone. Standing ten yards from me was a Watcher. It was the older man who was in Grand Central Terminal at the end of the battle.
After I got over the surprise, an impossible thought hit me. "I hope this isn't heaven," I said. "Because if it is, I'd just as soon stick with the Black."
Another surprise came . . . when he answered. "Help."
I thought for sure he said it, though his lips hadn't moved.
"Did you say something?" I asked.
"Help," he repeated. Again, no lip movement.
"Is that you?"
He nodded.
I didn't know if I'd heard him, or if he had somehow jacked directly into my brain, but whatever it was, a Watcher was communicating with me.
My heart started to race.
"Where are we?" I asked.
"His vision is gone," the guy said. Or thought. Or whatever it was he was doing.
"This was Damon's vision?" I asked.
He nodded.
"What happened?"
"It was taken from him," he communicated.
"By who? You? The Watchers?"
He nodded.
"Why haven't you sent him to the Blood?" I asked.
"That would be foolish," the guy answered.
"But . . . why? If anybody deserves it, geez."
"You have encountered his followers here in the Black?" the guy asked.
"Well, yeah."
"After seeing what he accomplished here, imagine what he would do if his spirit was united with the souls of the damned."
I think my mouth fell open. I hadn't even considered that. The army he put together with spirits in the Black would be Little League compared to the force he could assemble in a place that was full of the worst humanity had ever produced. The possibility was too horrible to imagine, which is probably why I hadn't.
"That's why you've kept him in the Black all this time?" I asked, numb. "To keep him away from the spirits of the damned?"
He nodded.
I wanted to cry.
"Where is he?" I asked.
"He seeks the weapon he calls a poleax. He must not be allowed to retrieve it."
"So stop him!" I shouted. "You guys are the bosses, right? You have all the power. Why can't you just destroy him?"
"We do not have that ability," he answered. "The spirits of the living must decide their own destiny. That is why we look to you."
"Me?"
"You and Marshall Seaver and those around you have been placed in this position by circumstance. You have not asked for the responsibility, yet it is yours. Only a spirit of the Black can stop another. If Damon retrieves the poleax, the Morpheus Road will be destroyed, and with it, humanity as it has always existed."
For the first time I understood what Marsh went through when he couldn't handle pressure. I felt nauseous.
"This isn't fair!" I shouted. "All I did was go out for a boat ride at night. It was stupid, but I don't deserve this."
"Agreed."
My mind raced to a thousand different scenarios and possibilities and ways to stay as far away from this particular Trouble Town as possible, but came up empty.
"Where's Maggie? And Ree and my gramps?"
"I do not know."
"How could you not know? You're a Watcher!"
He didn't answer.
I paced, which is weird to say because I was in limbo. There was no sense of direction or space. I had to think.
Where was Damon? What was he doing? What was he thinking? Did he have something to do with the disappearances? And the change in the visions? With his soldiers gone, he had no backup and no vision of his own. He was down, no doubt, but he wouldn't give up. No way. Not as long as he still had hope, and that hope was in the Light. The poleax. He could go after the poleax, and for that, he would go after Marsh.
That was it. That would be his plan.
I needed a plan of my own.
"If I'm gonna help you, I need you to help me," I said. "The poleax is in the Light and Damon is pretty much having his way there. I have to be able to compete with that."
"What are you asking?"
"I need Marsh to see me," I said. "If all I can do is move around some seeds or create a little wind, I don't stand a chance."
The Watcher stared at me for a moment, thinking. He then answered, "Damon's abilities do not come from us. He has developed them over the years."
"C'mon!" I shouted. "Throw me a bone! You must be able to do something!"
He nodded. "We will do what we can, but it will not be anything near what Damon is capable of. We do not interfere with the Light."
"I'll take whatever I can get. And I need something else."
"What is that?"
"Full immunity. If I influence things in the Light, I want to know that you're not going to bounce me into the Blood. Or anybody else who helps me either. I'm not trying to alter the course of history, I'm trying to stop somebody else from doing that."
He hesitated, then nodded.
"All right, good. I'll trust you on that. You're a higher being, right? You don't lie."
I took a deep breath to calm down. The guy standing across from me looked about as normal as could be. But he wasn't. He represented a power that was greater than anything I could imagine, and he was looking to me for help. How scary was that?
"Where's Damon now?" I asked.
"In the Light. With your friend."
"Now?" I screamed. "Right now? Why didn't you tell me?"
"If I told you before, you would not be as prepared as you are now."
I wanted to throttle the guy, even if he was a superior being.
"You better hope Marsh is okay, because if anything happens to him, I'm coming after you," I threatened.
"If Damon succeeds, you won't have to bother," the guy replied, and disappeared.
"Damn!" I screamed to nobody but me.
It was on now. It was really on. I wished I knew what to do about it. I took a last look around at the void that was once Damon's vision. I was in the wrong place. The wrong reality. The colored fog appeared. When I stepped through it . . .
I arrived in the center of what looked like a massive sea of walking corpses.
31
Had I made a mistake?
Did I leave the Black only to make a wrong turn and end up in the Blood? It sure seemed like it. As far as I could see there were rotten cadavers, standing together in a macabre sea of gruesome humanity . . . a dead man's party in a cemetery full of upturned graves. It was as if a demonic earthquake had awakened the dead.
I didn't want to be anywhere near there and would have taken off if I hadn't heard a familiar voice.
"I don't know where to look," the frightened voice said.
I turned quickly to see Marsh . . . and someone I
didn't recognize. It was a tall black-haired guy who had on a short white tunic thing that was edged in gold. He was built like a defensive end with clothes that made him look like a noble warrior from ancient times . . .
. . . and he was stalking Marsh. "The poleax is in the Light," the guy bellowed with a deep, gravelly voice. "But the answer is in the Black." They moved around a reflecting pool that was built in front of an old mausoleum.
Poleax? Why was this guy looking for the poleax? Who was he? I moved quickly to get a better look at him and got my answer. His face was covered with deep scars. It was the one thing he hadn't changed about himself. He liked those scars. They were his badge of honor . . . that he had awarded to himself.
It was Damon. And this wasn't the Blood. It was a cemetery in the Light. The sea of corpses was another illusion that Damon had created to scare Marsh. He had even changed himself into looking like the kind of warrior he imagined himself to be. He had that kind of power in the Light.
Marsh backed away but couldn't go far because he was trapped by the walking corpses.
"The answer has always been in the Black," Damon muttered.
"What is the Black?" Marsh cried. "What does that mean?"
I was about to jump between them when Damon reached out, grabbed one of the corpses, and ripped off its arm. It was so sudden and violent that it froze me in place. He wrenched off the hand and fingers casually as if it were a wishbone. His work complete, he held the bone like a weapon.
"You will walk the road and enter the Black," he said. "You will find the poleax."
"Tell me what the Black is. Where is it?" Marsh asked nervously. "How do I get there?"
Marsh was losing it and I didn't blame him. I somehow had to tell him that Damon couldn't hurt him. He was a spirit, and like the walking corpses, the bone was an illusion.
"There is only one way to enter the Black," Damon said, smiling.
"Okay, how?"
"You must die," he said as he rounded the pool, getting closer to Marsh.
The Black Page 33
