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--Three more hours--I should just quit--I can't quit but I wish I could--three more hours--can't quit--wife would be furious--but there's got to be more work out there--I never should have taken this job--three more hours to go--
The chill of the air, the pumping of a heart, the sudden brightness--solidness--of the living world around her. She was in! The volume of his thoughts was painful--like they were being blasted through a megaphone.
--Three more hours--but wait--wait--I don't feel right-- what's this? Who--huh--what--?
Allie quickly clamped her spirit down, taking control of his flesh, and at the same instant she forced his unsuspecting consciousness deep down into the limbic system--that primordial part of the human brain where consciousness retreated during the deepest of sleeps. It was easy to put him to sleep; he wasn't all that conscious to begin with.
She turned back to Mikey, but he was invisible now, as she knew he would be. She was seeing through living eyes now, seeing only the things that living eyes could see. As long as she stayed inside the delivery man, Everlost would be hidden from her. Once the initial shock of the skinjack had faded, she took a moment to enjoy it, luxuriating in the warmth of the sun on this warm June day. Even the heaviness of the package in her arms was a fine thing; yet another memory of the wonderful limitations of being alive.
She lingered at the neighbor's door a moment more, then left, taking the package with her to the front door of her own home. Then she stood at her own front door, frozen, just as she had been frozen at the city sign. This was the moment she had waited for. All she had to do was ring the bell. All she had to do was lift her finger--his finger--and do it. Never had a living hand felt so heavy.
Then, to her surprise, the door opened without her ever ringing the bell.
"Hi, is that package for us?"
The woman who opened the door was not her mother. She was a total stranger. She was in her twenties, and had a baby on her hip, who was very excited by the prospect of a large box.
"Just bring it in, and put it by the stairs," the woman said. "Do I have to sign for it?"
er, tales of Allie the Outcast were being spread far and wide too. Not all of them were true, of course, but she was developing quite a reputation as Everlost's loose cannon. That got her a certain amount of respect. She could grow used to that.
In fact, she already had.
Cape May: population 4034 in winter, and at least ten times that in the summer. It's the farthest south you can go in New Jersey. Everything after that is water.
Allie stood in front of the town's quaint WELCOME sign, frozen by the sight of it.
"You're sinking," said Mikey, who was still on the horse. Shiloh the horse, having grown accustomed to the strange texture of the living world, kept pulling its hooves out of the ground with a sucking sound, as if it were slowly prancing in place. Allie on the other hand, was already in the ground to her knees.
She reached up, and Mikey helped her out of the ground. "That's it, isn't it?" Mikey asked. "Cape May? I remember you said you lived in Cape May."
"Yes." With all their wanderings, Allie had lost her sense of direction. She had no idea they were this close to her home.
"It's what you wanted, isn't it? To go home?"
"Yes ... from the very beginning."
Mikey hopped off the horse and stood beside her. "Back on my ship, I used to watch you look out to shore. You had such a longing to go home. You don't know how close I came to taking you there, even then."
Allie smirked. "And you called yourself a monster."
Mikey was suitably insulted. "I was an excellent monster! The one true monster of Everlost!"
"'Hear your name and tremble.' "
Mikey looked away. "No one trembles anymore."
Allie was mad at herself for mocking him. He didn't deserve that. She touched his face gently. To look at him now, you'd never guess that the fair skinned, blue-eyed boy was once the terrifying McGill, but every once in a while Allie could still see a bit of the beast in him. It was there in the shortness of his temper, and the clumsiness of his hands, as if they were still claws. It was there in the way he approached the world--as if it still owed him something. Yes, the monster still lingered there inside him, but his face was that of a boy, attractive by any standards, if somewhat doleful.
"I like you much better this way."
"Why should I care?" But he smiled, because he did care and they both knew it.
"You must teach me to be human again," he had told her, when he first lost his monstrous form. Since then, she had done everything in her power to do so. It was in small moments like these that she caught glimpses of his successful steps back from being a monster. How long ago had that been? As is the way in Everlost, the days had blended until there was no telling. Weeks? Months? Years? Certainly not years! "So," he asked, "does bringing you home make me more human?"
"Yes, it does."
Even his selflessness was wrapped in self-interest. It would have bothered her, but she knew that he would have done this for her anyway, even if it had no benefit for him. It made him different from his sister, for while Mary pretended to serve others, deep down she was serving no one but herself.
