"What do you think you're doing?" she demanded, as indignantly as she could. "I'm sorry, Miss Mary," he said, "but no one's allowed to come in here."

"But haven't you heard? Your boss and I have a partnership, which means I have no secrets from him, and he has none from me. Now could you please open the door and let me pass?"

The guard looked uncertain, like this might be a trick question. "I'm sorry, but without a direct order from the Death Boss--"

"Just a few days into our partnership, and our agreement is already being broken," said Mary in an exaggerated huff. "I'll have to take this up with Mr. Capone. What's your name?"

What began as mild awkwardness now turned into sheer terror. "Why do you need to know my name?"

"Never mind," she said, looking him up and down. "I'm sure I can describe you well enough to Mr. Capone."

"But ... but we're not allowed to let anyone in without a direct order... ." His voice had become whiny and pleading. All it took was a silent glare and he caved, not only letting her in, but opening the door, with a bow, and closing it behind her.

She wasn't quite sure what she was expecting to see, but Mary, who had seen just about everything was rarely caught off guard. This was one of those times.

Beneath the crystal dome that once housed a vast variety of plant life, were children--hundreds of them, all asleep and curled up in fetal positions. They were dead, yet not dead. They weren't quite Afterlights, for they didn't have any afterglow.

"What is this place ...?" she said, not even realizing she said it aloud.

"We call it the incubator."

She spun to see Jackin' Jill coming up slowly behind her. "I knew you'd find your way in here eventually." Jill looked out over the sleeping children, all lined up in neat little rows. "These are all kids who didn't make it to the light."

Mary found herself stunned into silence. These children were Afterlights still in transition. They were Interlights.

"It takes nine months to pass from the living world into Everlost," said Jill. "I thought you'd know that."

"Of course I know that," Mary was finally able to say, "but I've never seen ... I mean, I've never actually found any in this state."

"Is that so?" said Jackin' Jill with a wry grin. "Well, I find them all the time." She wandered among the dead-not-dead Interlight children, and Mary followed. "I find them, then I bring them here. How do you think Pugsy wound up with so many loyal subjects?"

Mary found her quick-mindedness slowed to a crawl by this revelation. Pugsy didn't need soul traps to catch Afterlights--he got them even before they were born into Everlost. Mary knelt to one of the silent children, a boy no older than ten, in a state of perfect peace. There was a number written in chalk on the ground next to him. A date. In fact, each of them had dates written beside them. "The dates each of them died?" asked Mary. "How could they be," asked Jill, "when all the dates are in the future?"

Mary glanced at several of the dates, but they meant little to her. She didn't keep track of time in the living world.

"Those are the dates that each of them will ripen," Jill said, and Mary realized that was her crude way of saying that these were the dates the children would awaken in Everlost.

"How is it that you can find so many, when I've never found one before they've woken up?"

"Maybe you don't know where to look."

Mary gave her a cold glare. "If you're going to toy with me, then we have nothing more to talk about." Then she turned her back on Jill and wove through the evenly spaced grid of hibernating children.

"It's the amulet," Jill finally admitted. "It glows when something devastating is about to happen. Something like a fatal accident ..."

Mary turned to Jill, glancing at the blue-gemmed pendant she wore around her neck. It looked like cheap costume jewelry--but Mary was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. Certainly accidents, and untimely deaths, must set off ripples--not only in the living world, but through all levels of creation. It was possible that an object could resonate with such events--but how could Jill know specifically which accidents would result in a child falling short of the light, and into Everlost?

When the truth struck Mary, it struck deeply, as only the truth could.

"You stop them from reaching the light!" Mary said, with a 210gasp. "You know when and where the accidents will happen--then you wait for them to cross, and you stand in their way!" She looked at the kids on the floor, now caught in an invisible cocoon of transition. "These children weren't coming to Everlost--you guided them here!"

She only had to look at Jackin' Jill to know it was true.

Now things truly began to heave and buckle within Mary's soul--a shifting of purpose and design that went down to the core of her being. Finally Mary said:

"What a wonderful thing you've done here!"

Jill, who never seemed fazed by anything, was startled by that.

"Wonderful?" said Jill. "I wouldn't call it wonderful, but it does make me very useful to Pugsy."

As Mary looked over at the sleeping Interlights, waiting to be born into eternity, she realized that this was only a beginning, and what seemed so overwhelming just a few moments ago, now seemed like a tiny drop in a giant bucket.

"But don't you see," said Mary. "It is wonderful." Mary spread her arms out wide, and spun in a slow circle, feeling as if she was at the center of a gloriously expanding universe. "Look at all these children, Jill! You've saved them all!"

Everything changed for Mary after discovering Jackin' Jill's mysterious ability to keep children from the light. In the right hands, it was a power that was more awe-inspiring than any in Everlost. Mary could not help but feel that it

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was some kind of divine will that had brought this power to her. Now she saw everything as if refracted through the multifaceted blue topaz in the center of Jill's amulet. The future was sparkling and bright, and as her dreams sailed higher and higher, her sights became more firmly fixed on the western horizon.

She shared all this with Speedo, but he seemed more likely to shove his head in the earth rather than see Mary's big picture.

"If Chicago's not enough for you, we could go south to New Orleans, or north to Canada," Speedo said, pacing the Starboard Promenade. As the ship was moored and grounded--at least temporarily, Speedo had little to occupy his time beyond worrying. "We could even go back to New York."

"You're missing the point!" Mary said, with the most patient exasperation she could muster. "We must challenge the unknown, and the west is Everlost's greatest mystery."

"This isn't like you," Speedo whined. "Stability-- routine-- that's the Mary Hightower I know."

"I will find a peaceful routine for every child in my care," she assured him, "but to build a better Everlost, I must be willing to sacrifice my own routine for the sake of others."

"Build a better Everlost? Everlost is already here--you can't build what's already here."

Mary thought about Jill's incubator, and smiled. "I beg to differ."

 

 

Speedo just threw up his hands. It was no use--true, he was the closest Mary had to a confidant, but his thinking was numbingly limited in scope. She longed for someone she could share her revelations with--someone who could not only understand, but see the same vast horizon that she now saw. The future--her future--in fact the entire future of Everlost was spread out before her like a frontier. It wasn't merely her hope to subdue it--she had come to realize it was her destiny. Why else would Jill have come to her? Why else would she have such an urge to move beyond the bounds of the known afterworld?

"With Jill's help, and my guidance, we will save all the children we can, both here and in the west," Mary told Speedo. "And in so doing we will unite Everlost."

"There might not even be a 'west,'" he pointed out.

"Yes, I've heard the stories too," Mary said with a dramatic wave. "A giant cliff that falls off into nowhere. An ocean that pours off the edge of the earth. A wall of fire through which nothing can pass."

"What if one of those things is true? What if they're all true?"

"Didn't you tell me the Hindenburg made regular trips to Roswell, New Mexico, before it came into your possession--doesn't that prove there is something west of the Mississippi?"

"That's according to the finder who sold it to me--but finders can't be trusted--I know because I was one. He would have said anything to unload this thing!"

Mary sighed. "Let's not put the cart before the horse, shall we? Chicago first, and then we'll see where providence leads us from there. And of course we must not forget the threat of the Chocolate Ogre."

"Nick? He's probably forgotten all about you by now." Mary bristled at that. "I'm sure he hasn't! And I would prefer that you not call him by his living name. He is the Chocolate Ogre now."

"He was never an ogre, and you know it."

"After what he did, he deserves to be demonized."

Speedo backed down, not up for the battle. "Whatever you say."

Mary studied him closely. "After all this time, are you regretting the choice you made to stay with me?"

"Of course not," Speedo said. "It's just that sometimes ... sometimes you scare me." In her book Order Now, Question Later, Mary Hightower has this to say about her enemies:

"In Everlost, just as in the living world, there are those who put their own selfish desires ahead of that which is clearly and obviously right. In these cases I have always found such enemies of virtue will eventually destroy themselves if left to their own devices. Although occasionally some assistance might be required."

Chapter 19 Eminence Green

Had there been any outside observers--biographers to mark the afterlife of Megan Mary McGill, better known as Mary Hightower--they would have marveled at how thoroughly she infiltrated Pugsy Capone's rule. How brilliantly, how slyly it was done! Mary, however, would never call herself sly, or even cunning. Ascendant, she would call herself. The way cream rises to the top. The way the wise are naturally elevated above the masses. Mary was the eminence gris--the shadow power--behind Pugsy's very short-lived "golden era," and while Pugsy had always been very good at tooling people to his own purposes, he himself was not the sharpest tool in the shed. So he never knew that his power was slowly being usurped.

"Your organization needs structure," Mary told him in confidence.

"It works fine the way it is," Pugsy insisted.

"Oh, yes, it does," Mary admitted, but she pointed out how very afraid of him his own subjects were. It was something Pugsy took great pride in, in fact. And so Mary proposed a little test. She asked Pugsy to call in one of his loyal subjects, and order him to perform a simple but time-consuming task. Curious as to where this was going, Pugsy called in a kid whose name he did not remember, and told him to do a head count of the hundred or so Afterlights living in the administration building, and then create a graph, plotting how each of them had died.