Amnesia Moon (27 page)

As Kellogg had predicted, Cooley didn't respond. He wandered off, nervously peeking around corners, trying to find an exit. In a minute he was out of sight, leaving Kellogg and Everett alone.

“Well, pilgrim,” said Kellogg. He took the cigar out of his mouth. “Looks like you're still a little ambivalent about gravity.”

“What do you mean?”

Kellogg stepped up and poked him in the stomach. His finger passed through Everett's ghostly form. “Size but no weight,” he said. “Bad recipe.”

“They couldn't see me.”

“Right-o.”

“But I brought them here. My power is getting stronger.”

“You brought us all here,” agreed Kellogg. “It's your dream.”

“What's supposed to happen?” said Everett.

Kellogg put the cigar back in his teeth and grimaced, making claws with his hands. “Rrrrevenge,” he growled. “But you couldn't do it. You led the horse to water, cowboy.”

“What?”

“You made yourself harmless, pal.” Kellogg passed his hand through Everett's stomach again. “Insubstantial.”

Together they floated up, twin blimps, out of the maze.

“I don't want revenge,” said Everett.

Kellogg shrugged. “Whatever.” He leaned back and crossed his legs, as if he were sitting on a recliner instead of bobbing in the air.

“I want to send them home.”

“They'll go home. They might remember coming here, but it won't matter.”

“I put Ilford in the wheelchair. I made him sick, like Cale was supposed to be.”

“It'll throw a good scare into him. But it won't stick unless you want it to.”

“I thought Cale would kill him.”

“Yeah?” Kellogg tapped some ash off his cigar. It rained down on the maze. “Maybe you went and underestimated the strength of that father-son thing. Relations in general, Chaos. Pretty strong stuff.”

“Like you and me.”

“Heh. Yeah. I didn't wanna be the one to say it, for once.”

“Did I ever get out of your dream? How come you know so much?”

“No more than I ever got out of yours, buddy. But that's the part you never get.”

They drifted up so high now that the maze dwindled to a patch of shadow in the expanse of junkyards and highways below.

“Cooley and Ilford don't matter,” said Everett, after thinking a bit. “I just had to get Edie out. I did that.”

“The dame with the two brats?”

Everett nodded.

“You're getting hooked up? Chaos, the loner?”

“I guess.”

Kellogg grinned. “So that's what this new gut's about,” he said and reached over to pat Everett's stomach again. “You're in the family way.” This time, when he patted it, Everett's fat was substantial. “Guess you're taking on some real stature after all.”

Everett didn't say anything. The maze was out of sight now.

“Family's the best type of FSR,” said Kellogg. “Congrats.”

“FSR.”

“Finite Subjective Reality, remember? No? Guess you'll always be Mr. Forget-Me-Alot.”

“I remember,” said Everett.

“Really? Times do change.” Kellogg suddenly veered away to the right. “Well, I've got a plane to catch. See you later. Don't take any golden clocks, pal.” He swam away through the clouds.

Everett was alone. He drifted, thinking, I decline revenge. I decline my power.

But there's something I should change. The family. Their bodies. Back.

He fell.

 

 

 

 

It was morning. Edie and Dave were out of the car, sitting by a small fire. Everett could hear Melinda and Ray arguing in the middle seat, but when Everett hoisted himself up, they fell silent.

Edie wasn't small anymore. And Dave's tail was gone.

Everett cantilevered his body out of the car.

“Chaos,” said Edie. She came to him. “Your dream, last night. It was about us. And now look. The dream made us change back.”

He didn't say anything. His head was muddled with sleep.

“Do you want some breakfast?” she asked.

He nodded. She took his arm. Melinda and Ray came out of the car. Ray was back to normal size, and Melinda didn't have fur anymore.

“Hey,” said Melinda. “You're still fat.”

“I guess you forgot about yourself,” suggested Edie. She smiled at him shyly. “It doesn't matter.”

“Well, I want my fur back,” said Melinda. “That does matter.”

“Sorry,” said Everett.

“You jerk, you should have asked first,” said Melinda.

“Melinda,” said Edie.

“Well, it's true,” said Melinda.

“He's doing his best. Aren't you. Chaos?”

“I'll work on it,” he said. “There'll be plenty of dreams. I'll get you your fur back.”

“
Tonight
,” said Melinda.

“Here,” said Edie. She gave him some toast with jelly and a plastic mug of tea.

“And I want my tail back,” said Dave in a small voice.

“You don't want a tail,” said Edie. “You just want to be like Melinda.”

“No, really. I really want it back. Really.”

“He liked his tail,” said Melinda.

“Well,
some
of us are grateful for what you dreamed,” said Edie. “Aren't we, Ray?”

“Yeah, sure,” said Ray.

“So, thank you, Chaos. And thank you for trying.”

“Okay,” he said. “You're welcome.”

 

On the road that morning, the kids busy in the back with some game, he told Edie everything he knew.

She shook her head. “What you're afraid of—it'll never happen.”

“Why do you say that?”

“You'll never create some monster world, or seal yourself off in some fantasy. Because we're here. Like the way you dreamed yourself back to that place, the movie theater, but Melinda came and found you. She
remembers
it, Chaos. It was really her.”

“So?”

“So we're in there with you. Inside your dreams. You let people in.”

“Hey, Chaos,” said Melinda from the back. “Speaking of that.”

“What?” he said, meeting her eyes in the rearview.

She held out her hairless forearm and glared.

“Look,” said Ray, pointing out the window on the passenger side.

“Wow,” said David.

“What is that, Chaos?” said Edie.

Everett twisted his huge body and ducked his head into his shoulders to see what Ray was pointing at. Something in the sky. A flying thing, a propless helicopter, like the one Vance flew. Hard to make out in the glaring sun, but it was keeping low, matching their speed.

A troubling sight. Everett concentrated on the road.

J
ONATHAN
L
ETHEM
is the author of six novels, including
Motherless Brooklyn
,
The Fortress of Solitude
, and
Gun, with Occasional Music
. He lives in Brooklyn.