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Mikey leaned as close as he could to Nick and whispered, “Don’t let him touch you.”
But Clarence seemed more afraid of the Ogre touching him. “Stand back! Stand back or I swear I’ll . . .” Then Clarence turned and ran back to the farmhouse.
“Go,” said Mikey. “Go and find Allie. You can do it. I know you can. Just follow the tracks.”
“Follow the tracks to Allie,” repeated the Ogre.
“Think about her,” Mikey told him. “Think about her as much as you can. It will help you to remember!”
“Allie,” said the Ogre. “We met in the dead forest. Only it wasn’t dead.” For a moment, there was more shape in the Ogre’s face, cheekbones and a firmer chin. A different shade of brown in his eyes. It lasted for only a moment, but then it was gone. “Find Allie,” the Ogre repeated. “Follow the tracks.”
The door of the farmhouse banged open again, and Clarence came out holding a sawed off shotgun—which was only sawed off in the living world. In Everlost the barrel was hard and solid and pointing right at the Ogre.
“Don’t move . . . don’t move or I’ll . . . I’ll . . .”
If the touch of a scar wraith could extinguish you, could the blast of the scar wraith’s shotgun do the job too? Mikey didn’t want to find out.
“Run, Nick!”
Nick did what he was told. He ran, and although Clarence aimed at him, he didn’t fire. In a moment the Chocolate Ogre had disappeared into the night.
“Damn it all to purgatory!” shouted Clarence and aimed the shotgun at Mikey, who put his hands up.
“If you shoot me, you’ll never know.”
“Never know what?”
“Everything,” Mikey said. “All the things you want to know.”
Slowly Clarence lowered the weapon. “Tell me,” he said. Then he went to get the toppled chair, set it upright and sat down again, laying the half-dead shotgun across his lap. “Tell me.”
“Okay,” said Mikey. “What do you want to know?”
“Everything, just like you said. Everything there is to know from the very beginning. And if I don’t like what I hear, well, let’s just say . . .” Then he stroked the shotgun like a favorite pet sitting in his lap.
Mikey sat down in the middle of the cage, took a moment to compose himself, and began.
“More than a hundred years ago, my sister and I were hit by a train as we were walking home from school. . . .”
CHAPTER 11
Chocolate Reign
Nick, Nick, Nick, Nick.
The Chocolate Ogre knew very few things for sure.
Allie, Allie, Allie, Allie.
So the things he did know, he held onto with a passion.
Mikey, Mikey, Mikey, Mikey.
He found that being a spirit of limited self-awareness, while frustrating, was also very liberating. He felt a freedom he suspected he had never felt in his previous life. He had few expectations, and fewer fears, and whenever he felt anxious it passed quickly like a summer storm cloud, too small to give rain.
All in all, it was good being the Chocolate Ogre, although he didn’t feel much like an Ogre. Ogres have a bad temper, they ruin things, they chase people. Ogre was the wrong word. He felt more like a Chocolate Bunny. He told Mikey that, and Mikey instructed him never to say that again. “Bunnies are timid and fearful, and stupid,” Mikey had said. “You’re none of those things.”
“Yes, I am,” Nick had insisted. “I’m stupid!”
