"Congratulations," he said gently. "You are one of the Deadlies now. You are one of us." His smile became wider, and that made her all the more uncomfortable. She turned away.
"In any case, soul-surfing is good for crowded places, and big cities," he said. "I can get through a city faster than anything." Then, with a gentle toss of his head, he said, "Although sometimes I prefer to drive if I can skinjack a good-looking man, with a Ferrari."
Allie shook her head, warding off an unpleasant memory. "I tried to jack and drive once. It didn't end well."
Milos puffed out his chest. "So then I do the driving. You ride shot put." "Shotgun," Allie corrected. His butchered expressions always made her smile, but the smile faded quickly. "I still think it's wrong to skinjack people just for fun."
"What makes fun wrong?" he asked. And when she didn't have an answer for him, Milos said, "What we do is right. It is natural--or else why would we be able to do it? If we are skinjackers, we are meant to skinjack."
"We provide a link between Everlost and the living world--perhaps the most important one," Allie insisted. "Maybe we were meant to use it for something important."
"Maybe we were meant to simply enjoy it."
She wanted to argue, but between his easy logic, and his easier smile, she found her argument had no teeth. She looked down to see that, while Milos had continued to shift his feet to keep from sinking, Allie had not, and had sunken into the sidewalk to her ankles. She pulled her feet out, feeling embarrassed that he had caught her ankle-deep.
"In life did you ever do something just for fun?" asked Milos.
"Yes ..."
"So why not be as you were in life? And if it hurts no one, why is it wrong to enjoy skinjacking? This is what we are."
"No, it's what we do!"
"No, Allie, it is what we are." Milos gently put his hand on her shoulder. "It is what you are."
"So was it fun?" Mikey asked.
Allie shrugged, trying, for his sake, to hide how much she had enjoyed the soul-surfing lesson. "It was tiring. I prefer being me, rather than the crowd. What did you do?"
"I took a walk."
"Through town?" She wondered if he had been downtown, and had seen her with Milos. If she were a fleshie she would have flushed at the thought, then she got mad at herself. She had nothing to feel guilty for.
"I went into the woods," he told her. "There's an oak grove where half the trees have crossed over. And in the middle of it I found a house that crossed over too. It would be a nice place to live. That is ... if you wanted to."
"We can't 'live,' "she reminded him.
"No, but we could enjoy our existence here. I'm tired of being a finder. I'm tired of moving around. I'm tired of everything."
Allie considered this, noting the slight lavender tinge to his afterglow. Perhaps there was a different meaning for it. "Then maybe you're ready," she said.
"Ready for what?"
"To move on."
What Allie meant as a simple observation hit Mikey like a fist on flesh. He took a step back, reeling from the blow, but tried not to show how deeply it hurt him.
"Maybe I am," he said.
She turned from him. "If you're ready, Mikey, then I won't stop you."
No, of course you won't, he wanted to say. Because then I wouldn't be an anchor around your neck anymore. But instead he said, "Tell me to stay, and I will ..."
But Allie shook her head. "That would be selfish of me." * * *
Once upon a time, Mikey McGill had a bucket of coins. He collected them from every Afterlight he brought to his ship--whether they became a part of his crew, or went to the chiming chamber to hang upside down from their ankles. Why did he take their coins? Because everyone and everything he captured was his property. That's the way he saw things back then. But why did he keep the coins in a bucket, locked safely away? The answer was simple, although he couldn't admit it to himself.
He kept them because he knew.
He knew what the coins were for, just like every Afterlight knows, without ever knowing that they know. It's the memory of a dream lost on waking; it's a name on the tip of your tongue. But if you're an Afterlight, the truth will someday come to you, and you'll realize that you've always known. Sure, for the longest time, the coin was simply standing on its edge in your mind, just a dull metallic sliver, so very hard to see ... but look again--now it's full and round and shining in your palm. It is your proof of something beyond the Everlost, and your fare to get you there.
Once upon a time, Mikey had a bucket of stolen coins, but now he only had one, and since the moment he admitted to himself what the coin was for--the same moment that Allie made the choice to join him--he was always conscious of that coin in his pocket.
Now it felt heavy, like an entire purse full of coins. All he had to do was pull it out and hold it in his hand. Would it be hot for him now? Would it cause space to part before him, revealing the tunnel to the great beyond, which would suck him out of Everlost, sending him to wherever he was going?
And where was he going?
What if he still hadn't redeemed himself? What if he'd been a monster for so long, he hadn't been able to undo all the dastardly deeds of the McGill?
Well, so what if he hadn't! If that tunnel drew him in, then dropped him into a pit, so be it! He had endured the center of the earth, hadn't he? He could endure that place as well.
But he'd be lying if said he wasn't scared.
He didn't fear anguish--there had been enough of that in his afterlife to last an eternity. He feared ... nothingness. He feared being nothing. And yet, that's exactly how he felt now. Here, among skinjackers, he felt inferior, and that was a feeling he could not abide.
No! He would not go down the tunnel with his head hung low. He was once great--he had to remember that. He once inspired fear and respect, but he gave that up for Allie. Because he loved her. And although he still loved her deeply, it wasn't the same as it had been, and he marveled at how love could have so many hidden textures ... for the feeling that once cushioned his heart now chafed at it.
The five of them walked through most of the night to make up for lost time, then early the next morning, Milos took Allie out for more skinjacking lessons. Today Milos taught her the skills of "justicing," and "terminizing."
Justicing involved skinjacking the incarcerated. There was a penitentiary halfway between Lebanon and Nashville, and that's where Milos took her.
"I know it is not a romantic place for a date," he had joked.
"Good thing it's not a date," she reminded him.
While the electrified gate of a high-security prison kept the living from escaping, it was little more than an annoyance for an Afterlight. Allie felt the current as she passed through the gate, and it left her with a passing feeling that resembled indigestion, if one could feel indigestion throughout one's entire body.
Once inside the prison, they proceeded to skinjack various prisoners, with the specific goal of determining if they were guilty of the crime they were imprisoned for.
"That's impossible," Allie had told him before they began. "Sure, we can hear their thoughts, but only the things they happen to be thinking about--and if we get too close, they know we're there, and they freak out."
"Ah, but we can control the direction of their thoughts," Milos had told her, "without them ever knowing we are there." Then he told her to skinjack one of the milder looking prisoners, and at the same time, think of something that made her feel guilty. Her thoughts immediately went to Mikey, and how bad she felt that he was left alone while the rest of them were out skinjacking--and as those thoughts filled her, she suddenly got flashes from the prisoner. His own guilty conscience told her that, yes, he did steal all those social-security checks from helpless elderly men and women.
The moment the confession hit her, Allie peeled herself out, stunned. It took her a few minutes until she was willing to try it again. She tried four more times before it became too much for her. The last prisoner was either innocent, or too hard to read, she wasn't sure.
"Yes," Milos told her. "Guilt is easy, innocence is hard."
"But what's the point of it?" Allie asked. "They're already in prison--what's the point in us knowing they're guilty?"
Milos grinned. "What if the ones we justice are not in prison?"
Allie thought about it, and found the idea both compelling and disturbing. "Do you mean diving into random people, and searching their thoughts for crimes?"
"Not necessarily," said Milos. "We could search the minds of people awaiting trial, or perhaps people who are suspected of getting away with the perfect crime. We can find the truth within them, and then make them confess. Have you ever seen a criminal confess to something they might have otherwise gotten away with? Well, maybe they were justiced by a skinjacker."
"But isn't that ... invasion of privacy?"
Milos shrugged. "No more so than a search warrant, and that is perfectly legal. We just search a little deeper."
Although Allie felt conflicted, she had to admit that it could be ethical, if there were strict guidelines--such as only searching those who are already under official suspicion. But then, who would decide what the guidelines should be? Every skinjacker would make up their own rules, and not all of them would be as honorable as her.
"This is a good skill to know," Milos explained. "You see, there are those here in Everlost who will pay well to have their killers brought to justice." "I don't want to be paid."
"Fair enough," Milos said. "Sometimes a good deed is payment enough."
Which led them to the second lesson of the day. Terminizing. For this he took her to a hospital in the outskirts of Nashville. Once there, they found several terminally ill patients. Milos amazed Allie by skinjacking one of them-- not to take over the patient's body, but simply to make himself known. By the time Milos peeled away, the man had a look on his face like he had been visited by an angel.
"We tell them the truth," Milos explained. "We tell them that there is something more. That after their last heartbeat, the tunnel and the light will come."
"But we don't know what's in the light."
"It does not matter," said Milos. "Most people just want to know that there is something, whatever that something is."
As they went searching for another patient, Allie dared to ask, "So, what's in it for you?"
Milos looked down. "I see," he said sadly. "Everything Milos does must serve Milos."
Allie immediately felt bad she had said anything.
Milos held his pout for a moment more, then it became a mischievous grin. "I ask them to put in a good word for me when they reach the light."
Allie slapped his arm, and he laughed. "Shut up! You do not!" But she was never quite sure if he was joking or serious.
Following Milos's lead, Allie entered a patient, and revealed her presence slowly, so as not to frighten the woman. Then she spoke of the tunnel and the light. Milos was right-- that was all it took to give the woman an overwhelming feeling of peace and comfort. Thank you! the woman said in her thoughts. Oh, thank you! She didn't know who Allie was, but that didn't matter. It was the message that mattered, not the messenger, and once Allie had peeled away, the feeling of utter peace lingered with her. This was definitely more rewarding than justicing. It was the kind of bedside comfort the living simply could not give. Perhaps this is the reason we can skinjack, thought Allie. To do things like this.
