Valley of the Shadow (23 page)

    It was almost the look of a lunatic.

    Conner stood nervously in the kitchen entrance and waved a few fingers. “How’s it going?”

    Owen just nodded slightly. “Hey” was all he said.

    Conner felt a hot flash hit him. The guy wasn’t buying it, Conner could tell. But then Mrs. Bristol told him to go wash up and Owen went to the sink. Conner sat down at the kitchen table. Mrs. Bristol had prepared turkey and roast beef sandwiches, chips, and a big bowl of what appeared to be leftover potato salad. She also brought out a couple of two liters of soda from the pantry. Owen had retrieved a beer from the refrigerator.

    “Want one?” he muttered to Conner, holding out the Miller bottle. His voice was gravelly, almost hoarse.

    “Uh . . . no thank y—” Conner choked off his sentence and found himself staring at Owen’s thick arm.

    A tattooed image of a large tarantula was splayed out on his forearm. Its front legs stretched up onto the back of his hand and the others wrapped down around his wrist. An identical spider graced his other arm.

    A memory of the gray creatures flashed into Conner’s mind. Spiderlike hands reaching out toward him. Conner blinked and cleared his throat. “Nice tattoo. You… you like spiders?”

    Owen shrugged. “Dream I had once.” He sat down but never took his eyes off of Conner.

    Mrs. Bristol cleared her throat and tapped her head. Owen glanced at her, removed his cap, and dropped it on the floor.

    Conner felt like he was in a sauna under Owen’s persistent observation. But then again, he didn’t seem to be looking directly at Conner either. And Conner couldn’t keep his gaze from those tattoos.

    Mrs. Bristol, meanwhile, prattled on through a whole series of topics. Owen devoured three sandwiches in silence, crunched on a handful of chips, then downed his beer in one shot and let out a long, rumbling belch.

    Conner had finished his sandwich with a glass of warm store-brand cola and wiped his mouth. “Well, it was certainly a pleasure to visit and get caught up, but I really do need to hit the road.”

    As he stood, Owen pushed himself back from the table.

    “Mama,” he growled, “you gonna let this guy leave without telling us who he really is?”

    Conner froze, cursing under his breath. Someone had just turned the sauna up high.

    Mrs. Bristol wiped her lips and finished chewing. Then she looked at Conner with a cold stare. “No, Son. No, I’m not.”

MITCH AND NATHAN TURNED AROUND,
followed the freeway back to an exit ramp, and descended into the Gray City. They made their way down decaying streets, weaving between enormous chunks of stone and debris. Traffic signals were rusted and bent, and some buildings had been completely reduced to rubble. It reminded Mitch of one of those science fiction movies about a post-apocalypse world—after all civilization had been destroyed and only mutants roamed the streets.

    That wasn’t so far from the truth.

    They traveled for another half hour, winding through block after block of the desolate city. Mitch kept an eye out for all the other souls Nathan had told him about. But so far he hadn’t seen any. Then again, this was a big place. Bigger than any city from the material world. Mile after endless mile of decaying buildings, like a sober testament to all of man’s endeavors. A grim reminder that everything he achieves in life will be left behind to rot and decay. All around Mitch were thousands of years of human history and accomplishment… and this was all that remained of their efforts. Sooner or later everything returned to dust.

    The lyrics to a song started rolling through Mitch’s head again.
“Dust in the wind . . . all we are is dust in the wind.”

    The vast emptiness seemed to suck the energy out of Mitch. Soon the overcast sky began to grow dark and Nathan pulled into what appeared to be a parking garage. Mitch followed.

    “What’s up?” he said as they parked.

    “We should get off the streets before dark.”

    Mitch raised an eyebrow. “You mean because of the Reapers? I thought you said we were safe.”

    “You are for now. But you still don’t want to be out in the open. He can call them. Coordinate them. And he can use them to bring you back to him.”

    “Who? Howard?”

    “Yes,” Nathan said. “Well . . . the power that’s controlling him.”

    “So they are still a threat—these Reapers. They’re still dangerous. I mean… they’ll drag me off with them?”

    Nathan held up the blue chalk. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you covered.”

    Mitch stared at the innocuous-looking chalk. “With that? Dude… the window tricks were cool and all that, but I mean, I’ve seen these Reapers in action and—no offense—I don’t think that’s going to—”

    Nathan smiled. “Mitch, you’re still walking by sight, aren’t you? God likes using the things you least expect in ways you’d never guess.”

    He led Mitch into the adjacent building through an access door. The building looked like an old hotel. Something that may have once been a five-star establishment but here in the Interworld was just a decaying shell, void of all comfort and cheer.

    The front desk and concierge counters were covered with dust and debris. Without any power, the elevators were completely useless. They found a pair of couches in the lobby and pulled them closer together. Nathan drew a wide circle on the marble floor around them. Maybe fifteen feet in diameter or so. After a few seconds, it began to glow. Smoke wafted up from the chalk line, swirling in the faint blue light.

    They stretched out on the couches with a low table between them. Outside the sun had set and now a pall of darkness fell over the city.

    But inside the lobby, the chalk line continued to glow and faint blue tendrils of smoke reached to the ceiling.

    Mitch gazed into the light. “So what is it about this chalk? How does it work? Magic?”

    “Not quite,” Nathan chuckled. “It’s a little technical, but in layman’s terms, the chalk is made of inversely charged quantum particles in a state of temporal flux.”

    Mitch stared at him for several seconds. “Dude, I’m serious.”

    “So am I.”

    “So what are you, some kind of physicist?”

    “Nope. Plumber.”

    “C’mon, dude, I’m trying to have a serious conversation here.”

    Nathan propped himself up on an elbow. “Mitch, I don’t know about you, but ever since I’ve been outside my body, my mind’s been able to grasp concepts I never even knew about before. It all just seems to make sense somehow.”

    “I managed to do a little extracurricular reading myself since I’ve been here. Y’know, trying to expand my intellectual capacity.” Mitch shrugged. “I guess I haven’t gotten around to all the quantum mechanics stuff yet.”

    “Actually, it’s transdimensional physics.”

    “I’ll take your word for it,” Mitch said. He pointed to the glowing circle. “But on another note… exactly how long will this last? I mean, those windows you made only lasted a few minutes.”

    “That’s because a window’s more concentrated,” Nathan said. “Requires a lot more energy. But all this circle does is generate a low-level inversely charged field of quantum particles. It should last five or six hours. And the Reapers know better than to mess with it.”

    Mitch frowned. “But if the stuff is that dangerous, how come you can touch it?”

    “Right now our spirits are in a slightly higher state of resonance than the rest of the energy in this dimension.”

    “Because we’re not quite dead yet?”

    “Exactly,” Nathan said. “But as we die, our resonant state begins to enter conformity with this dimension.”

    “And what happens then?”

    “That’s the point of no return.”

    Mitch leaned forward. “So . . . is that what the purple rash is? Right before they drag someone off?”

    “That’s one of the manifestations, yes. And once it takes over, there’s no hope of ever being resuscitated.”

    Suddenly from out in the street they could hear a low moaning sound. Like the wind had picked up and was howling through the vacant buildings. This continued for several minutes. Mitch felt a chill race down his back. This was more than just the wind.

    Far off in the distance came a shrill cry for help. A human voice. A terrified shriek that lasted several seconds, echoing through the streets. The sheer terror in the scream was unnerving. Mitch had heard these before. He covered his ears.

    “You hear them?” Nathan said, his voice just above a whisper. “The Reapers are coming for them.”

    Mitch’s heart was pounding now. He sat up. “Is this going to last all night? How am I supposed to get any sleep? How could anyone sleep through this?”

    “Sleep? Who said anything about sleep? I just said we needed to get off the streets before dark. You’re still thinking in terms of your physical body. Your spirit doesn’t need sleep.”

    “I used to be able to sleep. Back on the farm.”

    “Because you thought you were still in your body. Same with hunger or thirst. They’re all just memories of what your body used to feel and require.”

    “So this hunger I’m feeling is all in my head?”

    “Technically, your head is back in the hospital with the rest of your body. It’s really all in your
mind.
”

    Mitch sat back and listened to the deep moaning and the occasional scream of terror. He closed his eyes. These were human beings. Souls being dragged away to a place… Mitch had no idea what it was like and no interest in finding out either. Still, he couldn’t help but feel sickened at every cry for help. He opened his eyes.

    Nathan was watching him. “There’s nothing you can do for them.”

    “I know. But that doesn’t make it any easier to listen—” Mitch stopped. Beyond the soft curtain of blue light encircling them, in the shadows of the lobby…

    Something moved.

DEVON GRIPPED THE WHEEL
as he navigated carefully through the side streets. Pale Man was lounging in the backseat giving directions and singing to himself. Something about Romeo and Juliet and not fearing the Reaper. Devon thought it was a rock song from way before his time. He thought maybe he’d heard it once or twice before, but he couldn’t be sure.

    “Yo, man, you mind tellin’ me what that was all about back there?”

    “That was about an insurance policy, chief,” Pale Man said. “I just wanted you to see what kind of trouble you’ve gotten yourself into. In case you’re thinking of doing anything stupid.”

    Devon felt his jaw clench. Oswald Karenga had killed Devon’s bosses and Devon had no idea why. He tried to recall the events leading up to the shooting that night, but it was all a blur. He couldn’t remember meeting with J.G. and Apollo. And he didn’t remember any deal they were involved in for Karenga. In fact, he still couldn’t remember much of anything from that entire day.

    Pale Man was still singing that stupid song. Devon finally swore at him. “Man, don’t you know any hip-hop or something? I’m sick of that song.”

    Pale Man clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Nothing like perpetuating a stereotype, chief. I think you need to expand your musical tastes a little. This is a classic rock song. Back when music was really music. When guys played real instruments instead of looping digitized segments of music that other people had recorded and calling it a new genre.”

    Devon swore at him again.

    Pale Man chuckled. “Ah, but don’t get me on my soapbox. If you want to run around with your hip-hop and your double negatives and your baggy pants hanging down around your knees, you go right ahead. You think that’s some kind of ghetto culture thing, that’s fine with me. Personally, I think you’re your own worst enemy, but that’s just my opinion.”

    “Man . . . whatever.”

    “Good rebuttal. Very articulate.”

    “So what is this thing Karenga wants?”

    Pale Man leaned forward. “See, you’re in what’s called a ‘need-to-know’ situation. I just wanted you to understand how terribly upset Mr. Karenga is with you. So you don’t stray off the reservation. As it were.”

    “But I didn’t do anything.”

    “Sure you did. You just don’t remember it.”

    “Because you’re keeping me from remembering.”

    “See there?” Pale Man flashed his rotted teeth in a grin. “You can display such blinding flashes of brilliance—however brief. Now, I can help you get out of this little jam, but I just want to make sure I have your undivided attention. And your willing cooperation. Understand?”

    Devon muttered, “Not like I got much of a choice.”

    Pale Man leaned back again. “Everyone has a choice, chief. Everyone.”

    Devon was quiet for several seconds. “So what do I gotta do?”

    “You remember that lawyer who visited you yesterday? Hayden?”

    Devon’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. He’d been trying to forget that. Forget the whole creepy experience. “Yeah.”

    “You recall he mentioned a mutual acquaintance of yours. Mitch Kent. You do remember Mitch, don’t you?”

    “Big white guy. Tattoos.”

    “Exactly. Well, it seems our buddy Mitch is in a coma. His body is, anyway. But his mind—his spirit—is still in that place you’re trying so hard to forget.”

    Devon shuddered. All he knew was that he never wanted to see that place again. Ever.

    Pale Man went on. “See, that place is sort of a dimension in between dimensions. Like the hallway connecting two rooms. One room is life and the other is… well, not life. But poor Mitch is still kind of lingering out in the hallway. And all I want you to do is just give him a little nudge. Move him along to the next room. That’s all.”

    “Kill him. You want me to kill him.”

    “Now see, that’s an awfully harsh term to use. I want you to free him. Release him. Cut his mortal bonds. Help him to… y’know, move on.”

    “Why can’t you do that yourself? You seem to be able to make people do whatever you want.”