Everwild

CHAPTER 21 Let 'Er Rip

Winning over the Atlanta Afterlights was a delicate matter, as painstaking, as… well… the making of chocolate. Too hot and it would burn, too cool, and it would lump. With Isaiah's reluctant permission, Nick introduced Zin to all the Atlanta Afterlights. There were almost four hundred of them. Once more they filled the streets of the Atlanta underground- this time without weapons.

As they gathered, Nick stood patiently with an impatient Zin. Johnnie-O and Charlie provided security, keeping space between them and the curious crowd.

"If things get out of hand, do I got permission to knock some heads?" Johnnie-O asked.

"Absolutely not," Nick told him.

"You're no fun," he grumbled.

When all of Atlanta was there, Isaiah came up to Nick. "Do I introduce you as Nick, Nicholas, or the Chocolate Ogre?"

Nick's instinct was to simply go by Nick, plain and simple-but if Mary was the Sky Witch, how could he hope to be taken seriously if he was just "Nick"?

"Go with the Ogre," he told Isaiah. Mary had invented the name as a smear tactic. Well, it was time he used it to his advantage.

Isaiah raised his hand to get everyone's attention, and in a few moments the murmuring crowd quieted down. "Hey y'all, everybody," he said, in an informal, yet commanding voice. "This here is the Chocolate Ogre, as I'm sure you already know. I've checked him out, and he's okay. He wants to talk to you, so listen up-and don't make him mad, or he'll turn you into chocolate chips or something."

Nick cleared his throat twice. He was nervous, and whenever he was nervous his throat clogged with chocolate.

"Afterlights of Atlanta," Nick began. "I come in friendship… and to prove it, I would like to present to you Zinnia the Ripper!"

"Zinnia?" said some kid in the crowd. "Like the flower?"

"Shut yer trap!" said Zin.

Nick pushed on. "I know you've all heard bad things about the ripper-just like you've heard bad things about me. Well, I'm here to set you straight. The ripper's not going to rip anyone's guts out-"

"I could if I wanted to," said Zin, and Kudzu seconded it with a bark and growl.

"Right," Nick said, throwing her a secret scowl. "But the ripper uses her powers for good." Nick took a moment to let that sink in, then he continued. "We all know that there aren't many things that cross into Everlost-and when things do cross, they get picked up by finders, who charge an arm and a leg for everything. Well, forget about finders- because if there's something you want, the ripper can get it for you!"

Nick knew he was sounding like an infomercial, but at least he had their undivided attention. He glanced to Isaiah, whose arms were folded, not yet impressed by the show.

"I need a volunteer!" Nick said.

No one came forward at first, then a young girl was pushed out in front by her friends. She looked terrified. Johnnie-O escorted her the rest of the way, and she stared bug-eyed at his huge hand which was gripping her elbow.

"Don't worry," Nick said to the girl quietly, "this is a good thing." Then he spoke loudly enough for the crowd to hear. "Tell me something you're longing for. Something you truly feel you deserve, that you've never had here in Everlost."

The girl looked up at him with wide, hopeful eyes. "A hot fudge sundae?"

Zin laughed. "Y'already got one! He's standing right in front a' ya!"

Only Charlie and Johnnie-O laughed. Everyone else was waiting for Nick to turn Zin into a pile of chocolate chips. Nick turned to Isaiah. "Where in living Atlanta could we find a hot fudge sundae?"

"I know just the place."

Isaiah led them to the World of Coca-Cola, one of Atlanta's biggest tourist attractions-a veritable cathedral of carbonated caffeination. Inside was a restaurant that featured all things Coca-Cola-such as ice-cream floats made with Coke instead of root beer, and Coke syrup sundaes.

The crowd of Afterlights followed Isaiah, Nick, and Zin right through the outer wall, and into the cafe. The place was packed with the living-there was a field trip of students all in neon yellow shirts laying siege to the counter, and ice cream was being dished up by four soda jerks who couldn't move fast enough.

"The ripper will now ecto-rip a sundae right before your very eyes!" said Nick, sounding like a carnival barker, and enjoying it.

The crowd of Afterlights all craned their necks to see, and shifted their feet to keep from sinking. The effect was a weird bobbing of several hundred heads.

Nick zeroed in on a silver bowl that had just been filled with three scoops of strawberry ice cream. The soda-jerk was about to douse it in Coke syrup, proving that some combinations really ought to be illegal.

"Quick," he said to Zin, "rip it before it's too late."

Zin shoved her ripping-hand forward into the living world, and the crowd of Afterlights buzzed with excitement. In one smooth move, Zin grabbed the ice-cream bowl, and tugged it out of the living world into Everlost. The soda jerk never saw it happen-and when he emptied his syrup ladle, Coke syrup spilled all over the marble counter. He looked at the counter for a moment in dumb confusion, then he glanced at the other soda jerks and said, "Okay, who's the joker?"

"It just disappeared!" said a living redheaded kid sitting at the counter in front of him. "It disappeared right into thin air! A hand reached out of nowhere and took it!"

"Shut up, Ralphy," said the kid next to him, and that was that. The soda jerk sighed, and made another sundae, not caring enough about the mystery to unravel it.

Zin, with the ripped bowl of ice cream in her hands, held it out to the girl, who was already licking her lips.

"No," said Nick. "Not yet."

Then he held his hand over the ice cream, squeezed his hand into a fist, and dribbled a hefty amount of chocolate over the ice cream.

"Ew!" shouted several voices in the crowd, sounding both delighted and disgusted at the same time.

"There," Nick said. "A hot fudge sundae."

The girl and her friends didn't wait for spoons to be ripped-they devoured it with their hands.

"So," said Isaiah, "the Chocolate Ogre isn't a monster… he's a thief."

Nick didn't deny it. He had thought long and hard about what it meant to rip things from the living world, but he ultimately decided that the needs of Everlost outweighed the needs of the living. "Ever hear of Robin Hood?" he said to the crowd, as much as to Isaiah.

"Sure-he robbed from the rich and gave to the poor."

"Well," said Nick, "the living are rich, whether they know it or not. The way I see it, we deserve a small share of the world that was stolen from us."

Isaiah didn't say he agreed, but he didn't disagree, either.

"Okay," said Nick. "Who's next?"

Almost every hand went up, with shouts of "Me! Me! Me!"

Nick turned to Isaiah. "Get me a list of ten reasonable requests, and we'll see what we can do."***

Nick counted on Isaiah to weed out the needy from the greedy, and Nick wasn't disappointed.

"About half of them wanted you to rip them a pet," Isaiah said, when he brought the list of requests to the parlor car. He glanced at Kudzu, who had busied himself licking the chocolate off everything in sight-poison for a living dog, but not a problem for an Afterlight canine.

"I was worried that might happen," Nick said. "What did you tell them?"

"I told them that ripping dogs and cats right out of their lives wouldn't be right."

"I only done it once," Zin told him, glancing at Nick a little sheepishly. "Kudzu here was bein' beaten by his owner. Had to save him from that, and rippin' him was the only way."

Hearing his name, the dog came over, and rolled onto his back, waiting for a belly rub. Isaiah obliged. "Beatin' a dog! You shoulda ripped his owner's heart clear out while you were at it."

"I did!" said Zin. Then she waffled. "Well, I almost did. I mean, I woulda done it, but the dog was watchin'. Couldn't let him see that, could I?"

Kudzu purred like a kitten as Isaiah rubbed his belly. "Sure is one funny-lookin' pooch." Then he stood up and handed Nick the list. "Here you go-ten reasonable requests. Let's see what the girl can do."

The requests that Isaiah passed along were all well-chosen, and although it took some time, they were doable. A saxophone and a guitar for two kids who hadn't played since the day they each crossed over. The sixth Harry Potter book, which, for some reason, was the only one that never crossed into Everlost. A Bible-which often did cross-but the request was for one in Portugese. Zin ripped an art set for a girl who had brushes, but no paint, a big sixty-four box of Crayolas for the younger kids, and a pair of glasses for a kid whose eyesight was as bad in Everlost as it was in life. The remaining requests were for desperately needed sports equipment. Nick was surprised that Isaiah didn't pass along any more food orders, but as it turned out, Isaiah had his reasons.

Once all ten requests had been fulfilled, Isaiah called Nick in for a private meeting. Isaiah's quarters were comfortable but modest, behind an unassuming storefront in Underground Atlanta. He lived no better than any of the kids in his care, although he did have a bit more room. There was a bed that was probably just for show, since most Afterlights-especially leaders-didn't sleep. There was a Formica table from the 1950s, an orange leather sofa probably from the seventies, and several fragile-looking round-backed chairs that looked like something Nick's grandmother might have owned. Nick made a mental note to have Zin rip Isaiah a respectable furniture set.

Nick sat on the sofa, figuring it would be the least likely to be left with permanent chocolate stains, and Isaiah sat across from him in one of the grandma chairs.

"I've let you have your fun," Isaiah said. "Now I want to know what you want from us."

Nick knew there was a fine line between a gift and a bribe. He could only hope that he was still on the right side of that line. "I would have ripped all those things for your Afterlights, without getting anything in return," he told Isaiah. "But you're right-there are a couple of things I'd like to ask you for."

"You can ask," said Isaiah, "but it doesn't mean I'm gonna give."

Nick cleared his throat so that his speech lost that thick chocolatey tone. "First I need information. I need to know about other Afterlights in other towns and cities in the South. I need numbers if you have them, and what those Afterlights are like-are they friends or enemies? Are they easy to deal with, or should they be avoided? You know- that kind of thing."

"Fine," said Isaiah. "I'll tell you what I know about the South." The chair creaked as Isaiah leaned back in it. "But that's not all you want, is it?"

Nick took a moment. This one wouldn't be as easy. He tried to sit up as straight as he could in the low-slung sofa, and looked Isaiah in the eye.

"I'd like fifty of your Afterlights."

Isaiah's expression became so stony, the features of his face actually seemed changed. "They're not for sale," he growled.

"No-that's not what I mean." Nick said. "Mary Hightower is a threat to all of us, and I can guarantee you that she's building an army. Which means I need to build one too. So I'm asking you for fifty volunteers. Only those who want to go-I don't want to force anyone."

Isaiah took his time to think about it. "I don't like it," he said. "I don't like it one bit… but I do get the feeling that living under the Sky Witch would be a whole lot worse."

Nick leaned forward. "Will you do it, then? Will you ask for volunteers?"

"If I give it my blessing, you'll get your volunteers," Isaiah said. "But it's gonna take more than 'ten reasonable requests,' from the Ripper to get my blessing."

"All right, then-what?"

What Isaiah asked for was a feast. A Christmas feast for his entire vapor, regardless of the fact that it was the summer. Nick supposed that in a timeless world, each day could be whatever day you wanted it to be.

"Everyone knows how hard it is to find food that's crossed over," Isaiah pointed out. "You saw how they acted when they saw that ice cream. Coulda had a riot if I wasn't there to keep the peace." Isaiah indicated a little jar in the corner that held just one unbroken fortune cookie. "Mostly we get those damn fortune cookies-and when it's a bad fortune, no one'll even eat the crumbs."

"So," asked Nick, who knew more than anyone that every Everlost fortune was true, "was your last fortune a good one, or a bad one?"

Isaiah raised his eyebrows. "At first I thought it was bad, but maybe it's turning halfway decent."

"What did it say?"

Isaiah gave him the slightest hint of a grin. "It said 'Embrace the bittersweet'."

The feast took some time to arrange, and since all the ripping effort was Zin's, it exhausted her-but she was a trooper. Nick had her rip a smorgasbord of edible items from dozens upon dozens of restaurants, markets, and homes.

"Why cain't I go to some big ole' banquet hall," Zin asked, "and rip all the food from there?"

"That would be easier," Nick admitted, "but it would also be obnoxious. If we have to steal hundreds of meals from the living, we should spread it out-so that no one feels the cost of what they've lost."

It was obvious that Zin cared little for the living and their loss. The concept of "responsible ripping" was foreign to her. Fortunately, in her many years in Everlost, her designs were never so grand that her ripping created major problems for the living. Unless you count all the missing artillery.

In the end, Zin did what she was told, and asked if this earned her a raise in her military rank. Nick told her a good soldier never asks.

It took three days, working round the clock, to rip enough food to feed the Afterlights of Atlanta, but it was worth the effort. Nick had to admit, when they gathered for the meal, he'd never seen a group of Afterlights so joyful and so content. Whether he got his militia or not, he was glad to have done this.

When all was said and done, and everyone had eaten until they were satisfied, Isaiah asked for volunteers for Nick's army. "Someone's gotta stand up to the Sky Witch," Isaiah told them. "And we gotta do our share."

Nick had asked for fifty-and he ended up with almost eighty-which posed a logistical problem, since the train had only an engine, a parlor car, and a single passenger car. That's when Zin, to everyone's amazement, had ripped her first train car from the living world.

Isaiah was true to his word, and just before they left, he gave them pretty good intelligence as to where they could find friendly Afterlights, and which ones should probably be avoided. He also gave Nick a word of friendly, heartfelt advice.

"You need to remember who you were," Isaiah told him. "Because more and more you got that mud-pie look about you. There's more chocolate on your shirt-it's even getting into your hair now. I gotta say, it worries me."

"We can't choose what we remember," Nick said, repeating what Mary had once told him, "but I'll try."

"Well, I wish you all the luck in both worlds," Isaiah said. Then, as a gesture of friendship, they put their hands together, and crushed Isaiah's one unbroken fortune cookie between their palms.

Their fortune read, "Luck is the poorest of strategies."

While Isaiah might have felt insulted, Nick took this as evidence that he was doing the right thing-preparing for his confrontation with Mary as best he could.

That was more than a month ago. Since leaving Atlanta, Nick and his train had zigzagged from town to town, city to city, on any dead rails that would get them there.

"I'd rip us fresh train tracks," Zin said, "but I can only rip things I can actually move."

The "mud-pie" look that Isaiah had spoken of was even more pronounced than before-so much so that Nick had taken the mirror in the parlor car, and spread his chocolate hand back and forth across it until it was too thick with the stuff to show his reflection. He had work to do, and thinking about himself, well, it was just a distraction.

Based on what Isaiah had told him, they traveled to more than a dozen towns and cities in Georgia and the Carolinas, bringing in volunteers everywhere they went. Zin had become a whiz at dazzling audiences with the items she ripped right before their eyes, and once they were wide-eyed with wonder, Nick offered them a feast without being asked, because if there was one thing that was universal in Everlost, it was the absence of, and the craving for, a good meal.

By the time they reached Chattanooga, Tennessee, and added that ninth train car, Nick's anti-Mary fighting force numbered nearly four hundred.

"It's good to be part of an army again," Zin told Nick, as they headed south toward Birmingham, Alabama. "I've been waitin' halfway to forever for someone to fight."

"We fight because we have to," Nick told her. "We fight because it's the right thing to do, not because we want to."

"Speak for yourself," Zin said. "Everybody's gots their own reasons for the things they do. Alls that matters is that your reasons and mine carry the same flag."

"We don't have a flag," Nick pointed out.

"I could make one."

"Just as long as it's not Confederate."

Zin thought about it. "Whacha say I rip some fabric into Everlost, and come up with sumpin' brand spankin' new?"

"Great-you could be our own Betsy Ross."

To which she replied, "Betsy Ross was a Yankee." It was a strange thing to build an army when they had no idea where to find the enemy. "I've heard rumors that Mary's gone west," Johnnie-O told Nick. "Maybe even across the Mississippi-but I also hear there's no way to cross the Mississippi, so who knows?"

"D'ya think she's afraid to come this far south?" Charlie asked.

"Mary's not afraid," Nick told him. "But she is cautious-which means she'll only come after us when she feels she can't lose." He wondered if she knew where he was right now, and what he was doing.

"What d'ya think's gonna happen when you finally come face-to-face with her?" Charlie asked. It wasn't the first time Nick had been asked that question, and his answer was always the same.

"I don't try to guess at things that haven't happened yet."

But that was a lie. Nick couldn't deny that he had fantasies about their destined meeting. In one fantasy, he would defeat her-but he would show such mercy that Mary would break down in his arms, admit she was wrong about everything-and that admission would heal him, sending every last ounce of chocolate into remission. Then, hand in hand, they would hold their coins and step into the light.

In another version, Mary would win the battle, but be so moved by Nick's valor, and by his passion for freeing the souls she had trapped, that she would finally listen to reason, and allow Afterlights to choose their destinies for themselves. Then together they would lead Everlost into a new age.

All his fantasies ended with him and Mary together one way or another. This was something he couldn't share with anyone, for how could they trust a leader who was in love with the enemy?

The hundreds of kids who were now under Nick's leadership certainly didn't love Mary. While some of her many writings had dribbled down to the South, fear and awe of the Sky Witch and her magic was much more compelling than the written word. It was their fear of her that made it easier for them to align with the Chocolate Ogre, who, in their eyes, was certainly frightening, but not terrifying. It was a case of the monster you know being better than the monster you don't know. The problem was, their fear of Mary was quick to turn soldiers into army deserters. In a world where ecto-ripping and skinjacking were possible, there was no way to make these kids believe that Mary Hightower had no such powers.

"I only know of two ecto-rippers," Nick tried to point out to a fearful group of enlistees. "There's one called 'the Haunter,' who's inside a barrel at the center of the earth, and then there's Zin, who's one of us. As for skinjackers, I've only ever met one. Her name is Allie, and she's on our side too."

It was the first time Nick had said Allie's name aloud for quite a while. It made him long to see her-to know what had become of her. And as if to answer that longing, one of the kids they had picked up in North Carolina said, "Yeah-Allie the Outcast hates the Sky Witch-she told us so herself."

Nick turned so fast, chocolate flung into the kid's eye. "What do you mean she told you? You saw her? Where?"

"A couple of months ago, in Greensboro," he said. "She came with this other kid who didn't talk much. I liked her, but the other kid scared us a little."

Nick couldn't contain his excitement. "Tell me everything!" he said. "How was she-how did she look? What was she even doing there?"

Nick sent for the dozen or so kids they picked up in Greensboro, and, pleased to be on the Chocolate Ogre's good side, they were thrilled to give all the information they could. They told Nick all about Allie-how she had become a finder; how she and a boy that Nick could only assume was Mikey McGill rode into town on a horse covered with saddlebags that were packed with crossed items.

"They had good stuff," the Greensboro kids told him, "not junk like most other finders have-and they traded fair. We asked her to show us some skinjacking, but she wouldn't do it."

Then everyone flinched at a loud popping sound, followed by another, then another. Nick already knew that sound. It was Johnnie-O cracking his knuckles. It was always a sign that he was either very anxious, or very excited.

"Y' know…" said Johnnie-O, "if we find Allie, we'll have a ripper and a skinjacker. With a combination like that, there's a whole lot of things we could do."

But Nick was already miles ahead of him.

"Where was she headed?" Nick asked the Greensboro kids. He didn't expect much of an answer-after all, finders rarely gave away their trade routes. But the boy said quite simply:

"How well do you know the rail system west of here?" Nick asked Charlie. He thought Charlie would balk at the question, but Choo-choo Charlie was a tried and true conductor, and seemed ready for a new challenge. By now Charlie had gotten himself enough paper to copy the rail map he had been scratching into the engine bulkhead, and mapping the Everwild rails had become a personal mission for him.

"I know what cities should have a lot of tracks that have crossed over-but there's no way to know till we get there. D'ya mean we're not going to Birmingham?"

"Change of plans," Nick told him. "We're going to Memphis."

"I hear that's where Everlost ends," Charlie pointed out. "The Mississippi River, I mean."

"Well, I guess we'll find out, won't we?"

Then, just before Nick left the engine cab, Charlie pointed to his cheek and said, a little awkwardly, "Uh… you got a little spot there."

Nick sighed. "That wasn't even funny the first time, Charlie."

"No," Charlie said, "I mean the other side of your face."

Nick reached up and touched his good cheek. His finger came away with a tiny spot of chocolate. He wiped it between his thumb and forefinger until it was smudged away. "Just get us to Memphis."

Nick knew that time was running out for him.

There was no way he could deny it now. It wasn't just the spot on his cheek-little eruptions had begun to pop up all over Nick's body, rising like pimples, oozing chocolate through the fabric of his clothes when they popped. Those tiny brown patches were everywhere, and were beginning to connect like raindrops on concrete, spreading like a relentless rash, to his back, his scalp, and places he didn't even want to think about. His chocolate hand was weak and getting weaker, the fingers almost fusing together. His left eye was always clouded, and losing more and more sight each day. His shirt, which used to look like a white shirt covered with brown stains, was now more brown than white, and the original color of his tie had long since been forgotten. Even his dark pants, which had always hidden the stains, could no longer resist the umber onslaught, and his shoes looked like two piles of brown candle-drippings giving rise to the rest of his body.

Nick knew it was his own memory that was poisoning him-or lack of memory. He had forgotten so much of who he had been in the living world, there was barely anything left of him. His family, his friends, they were all gone from his mind. All he knew for sure was that he had been eating a chocolate bar when he died, and it had smeared on his face. Soon his only memory would be the chocolate, and then what? What would happen when there was nothing else left of him?

He didn't want to think about it. He didn't have time to think about it. All that mattered was the task at hand-and only part of that task was building a fighting force. The rest of his plan he kept to himself, because if he told the others what madness he had in mind, he'd have a whole lot more deserters.

Before they left Chattanooga, Zin presented Nick with the flag she had made, and Nick told Charlie to fly it from the front of the train, for everyone to see. The design was a series of silver stars, in the pattern of the Big Dipper, sewn on a rich brown fabric.

"My papa always said the Big Dipper was there to catch falling stars," Zin said. "Kinda like the way you're here to catch falling souls."

Nick was all choked up, and it wasn't just the chocolate. "You have no idea what this means to me, Zin."

"Does that mean I get to be a lieutenant?"

"Not yet," Nick told her. "But soon. Very soon."

Nick would have hugged her if he thought he could do it without covering her in stains.