“If it doesn’t work, we always have plan B.”
Plan B was not something to be discussed, but they both knew what Allie was referring to. The touch of a scar wraith. If ever there was a soul in need of extinguishing, it was Mary Hightower . . . and yet Allie instinctively knew that the premeditated ending of someone’s entire existence, even Mary’s, was a last resort. Ending the physical lives of skinjackers, that was bad enough . . . but intentionally extinguishing a soul? Squirrel had been an accident, but if they willfully extinguished Mary, it would be a crime against the universe, and perhaps the one act that was truly unforgivable. For that reason, it was a last resort.
Allie, who was skinjacking, couldn’t see into Everlost, but Clarence had the benefit of double-world vision—so it was Clarence who saw the deadspot, just past the town of Alamogordo.
“I don’t know what that is, but it doesn’t look good,” he said.
Allie pulled over to the side of the road, and, making sure her fleshie was still asleep, she peeled out. Once in Everlost, she saw the massive deadspot in the far distance.
“Whatever it is,” Allie said, “Mary would have seen it if she came this way, and would have gone to check it out.”
Up ahead there was a restricted military access road, leading to something called Trinity Site. The name sounded familiar to Allie, but she couldn’t recall where she’d heard it before.
“Well,” Allie said, “it looks like I’m gonna have to skinjack someone with military access.”
They returned that afternoon. Allie had skinjacked an Army officer, and let Clarence take the wheel, because only he could see the deadspot with his Everlost eye while Allie was skinjacking. They approached from the north. From Allie’s perspective, all there was to see was a stretch of dark fused sand, more than a mile or two across, but Clarence’s perspective was quite a bit different.
“They’re here!” Clarence told her, in a panic. “They didn’t just come through here, they’re still here! We’ve gotta . . .” Clarence pulled sharply to the right, and stopped the car abruptly, then he breathed a sigh of relief. “We’re okay—I don’t think they saw us.”
“Won’t they see us now?”
“I got it covered.”
Then, when Allie tried to peel out, she found it difficult.
“Lift your butt about six inches off the seat,” Clarence told her. “Then try to peel out.”
It worked, and once she was back in Everlost, it all became clear. Clarence had parked the Jeep in the exact same airspace as a vintage pickup truck that had crossed into Everlost. The living-world jeep was hidden from view within the footprint of the larger pickup truck. Allie now found herself sitting in the passenger seat of the Everlost pickup, while the body of the Army officer remained asleep in the Jeep—and as long as he stayed asleep, and didn’t get out, no one would see him.
Allie couldn’t believe the collection of junk around her—a lot of it sorted into piles and stacks, some of which towered over her head—and between the stacks were vehicles parked every which way. Most of them seemed to be from the 1940s or 50s.
A few of Mary’s children were wandering about, but the deadspot was so cluttered, and the branchlike flashes of St. Elmo’s fire were so distracting, that Allie and Clarence were able to slip out of the pickup truck without being seen.
There was more activity deeper in the deadspot, but the farther in they moved, the harder it was to hide. Clarence had it easier, since he could hide at least the living-world parts of his body within larger Everlost objects.
“If your plan was to get captured, you’re doing a great job,” Clarence told her from within a pile of air conditioners.
The current plan was to isolate Mary, and push her down into the living world, because unless they planned to extinguish her, that was their only choice. It meant that, for Allie, this would be a one-way mission. Allie would be going down with Mary.
“We’re going to have to lure her to the edge of the deadspot,” Allie told Clarence.
“And how do you propose we do that? If you show your face, they’ll grab you and bring you to her, right there in the middle, not at the edge. And if I show my face . . .”
“Right; they’ll all run, and Mary will surround herself with Afterlights to protect herself.”
They pondered their dilemma, until an answer came from a very unexpected source.
a marvelous surprise it was to stumble across the giant deadspot, just a few weeks later. It was a Finder’s delight—and Speedo, who was still a Finder at heart—knew a great business venture when he saw one. Why, with all this stuff, he would be the wealthiest Finder in all of Everlost! So, like an old-fashioned prospector, he staked his claim and had his Afterlights begin the monumental task of cataloging all his new finds.
He had no idea what this place was, but to Speedo, it didn’t matter. He had big, big plans for his business empire . . . but it all came crashing down when Mary Hightower showed up. All his Afterlights instantly abandoned him in favor of Mary, and there he stood, his hopes dashed, and his claim jumped. Speedo suddenly found himself, both literally and figuratively, all wet.
Mary was, of course, surprised to find Speedo there, but pleased as well, because it added quite a few more Afterlights to her growing cumulus. She would soon have to come up with a new word for them. Thunderhead, perhaps. “A thunderhead of Afterlights.” She rather liked it!
“Thank you so much,” she told Speedo, “for taking care of these children and finding this wonderful place for me.”
“Right,” said Speedo, “for you.” There wasn’t a trace of his typical over-wide smile on his face.
Around them, Speedo and his squad had begun to separate things into piles. One pile caught Mary’s attention. At first glance it appeared to be a pile of bodies.