Neal Shusterman - Everfound

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…”

N ick, 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!”

“No, you’re not,” Mikey had told him. “You’re just not yourself. That doesn’t make you stupid, it just makes you… muddled.”

It only served to confuse him, because if he wasn’t himself, then who was he?

Nick, Nick, Nick, Nick.

He ran from the cage and the farmhouse and the crazy scarred man, happily reciting the three things he knew that he knew. He kept to the train tracks as Mikey had said. They were easy to follow because the tracks had crossed into Everlost.

Allie, Allie, Allie, Allie.

He was content to live in the moment, but he sensed a certain sadness deep within himself. A longing for all the things he had once been, whatever those things were. He knew he had once been very clever. He had led hundreds of Afterlights, and, in fact the train he was following had once belonged to him. Mikey had said so.

Mikey, Mikey, Mikey, Mikey.

While he couldn’t grasp the memory of these things, he knew that who he had once been, was not gone completely. The memories were still out there, divided among the people he knew and loved. Seeing Mikey had brought some of those memories back to him.

Allie, Allie, Allie, Allie.

And seeing Allie would bring back even more. Only in gathering those memories, could he gather back all the pieces of the boy called Nick.

Mary, Mary, Mary, Mary.

The name stopped him in mid-stride. It had come out of nowhere-and he knew that nowhere often spat forth some very important things. A feeling came over him then, warm enough to melt him inside, but cold enough to harden him solid. It was joy poured hot into chilly foreboding. The feelings blended until he couldn’t tell one from another-and when he looked at his hands, he could, for the first time, see something resembling fingernails.

Nick, Mary, Nick, Mary, Nick, Mary.

He felt a fluttering inside his chest that he mistook for an air pocket-probably left from when he pushed himself through the cage. He had no way of knowing that the fluttering was a single beat from the fleeting memory of a heart.

M ikey told Clarence everything he knew. The crossing of himself and Mary into Everlost, his many years at the center of the earth, and the many years it took to get out. He told Clarence of his time on the ghost ship, and how he was the McGill, the most feared monster of Everlost. Mikey told him about Allie, and although he tried to hide how deep his feelings for her were, Clarence saw right through it.

“‘Love is the finest and foulest thing in the world. It will drive a man to greatness even while driving him into despair.’” Clarence proclaimed. “To quote the famous philosopher…”

“Which famous philosopher?” asked Mikey.

“If I knew, I would have told you.”

Mikey knew both the fine and foul sides of love. It was his love of Allie that had lifted him up from darkness; letting him see a better way than the way of the monster. But once that love took hold, it also left a fear in him, which always lingered in the back of his mind, and made him intensely jealous. It was the fear of losing her.

“Love turns a heart to crystal,” said Mikey. “Much more valuable, but much more fragile.”

Clarence put down his bottle. “Who said that?”

“I did,” said Mikey. “Just now.”

Clarence raised his Everlost eyebrow. “You oughta be a poet.”

Mikey was very pleased with himself. It had been a long time since anyone complimented him on anything he said or did.

“How’s this?” Clarence said, and then he held up his Everlost hand, moving it before him as if the words were written in the air. “The face that launched a thousand ships… never heard of hurricane season.”

Clarence laughed so hard it made Mikey laugh too. They were still laughing when the policemen came across the weedy field toward them-or more accurately toward Clarence, since they couldn’t see Mikey, or the cage that held him.

“Looks like you’re having quite a party,” the bigger of the two men said. “Wish I could be in there with you.” Then the two smirked to each other.

Mikey’s first thought was that they had been skinjacked, until he realized that “in there with you” meant in Clarence’s head. They took him for a lunatic talking to himself.

“I’m sorry but this here is private property,” said the larger officer, clearly the leader of the two. “We’re going to have to ask you to leave.”