Ink and Bone(65)

Sooooo mean to your lil bro.

Love you.

Me too.

Finley put the phone down, staring at the ceiling. A big crack in the plaster looked like a wave, water stains like faraway birds. Rainer sighed in sleep, pulled her closer. She hadn’t been sleeping when Alfie texted, just lying there, at first looking at the maps in the glow of her phone, then thinking about her visit with Betty Fitzpatrick, listening to the squeak-clink that was ever present now, but the volume on low. Abbey’s dreams, Eliza’s imaginary friend, Jackson’s predictions, Joshua’s trains. The little bird. A million little pieces floated in the ether above her, not coalescing, never taking any kind of shape.

Rainer stirred and pulled her closer.

“Go to sleep, Fin,” he said.

She felt herself drift off in the warmth of his embrace.


*

But then the air grew cold and Finley was out in the night, a light snow falling all around her. She was running, running, running—sick with exertion and fear. Her heart couldn’t work any harder, and bile rose in her throat, a burning acid. The trees were soldiers, towering above her, looking down in apathy. They’d seen so much, too much. They couldn’t help and wouldn’t even if they were able. Because the world turns, impassive, even as we all run wild, ripping the place and each other to pieces. We will destroy ourselves, and it will still turn at the same pace, and the seasons will come and go, not missing us at all.

Then Finley was kneeling on the ground, her chest aching. An anger welled in her, something so powerful and ancient that it barely fit in her tiny body. She looked down to see the bloody pulp of a woman’s ruined face. It was a hideous mash, the skull had taken on an unnatural shape, like a deflating balloon. And in her hand she felt the greasy heft of a flashlight that was covered with blood.

She heard what she thought was the high call of a hawk and then realized it was her own primal keening.





TWENTY


Momma cried the whole way home; she always did. They walked the long miles back with her sobbing. She seemed to drag herself, moved so slowly. Even so, Penny was trailing behind, her bad foot aching, and she was so, so tired. If she lay down on the ground, she knew she’d fall asleep. And maybe the snow would cover her like a blanket and she would sleep and dream of home.

She’d always had dreams. Dreams so vivid and real that it was impossible to tell whether she was awake or asleep. Some dreams were fuzzy and strange, and she knew it wasn’t real. But some of them, like the dreams she had about Zoe, where it was bright as daylight and there was scent and sound, were as real as anything that happened during the day. And she would ask herself, Is this real? She didn’t know the answer.

Zoe was the little girl who used to sleep under her bed. Penny told her mommy about Zoe, even though she knew her mommy couldn’t see Zoe. She overheard her parents talking about her imaginary friend. Mommy was a little worried, and Daddy thought it was normal. I like Zoe better than any of her other bratty little friends, Daddy said, which made Mommy laugh a little. Penny liked her better, too.

Penny had never had a friend as fun and funny, as easy as Zoe, who always just wanted to do what Penny wanted to do and never argued. Play dates with her other friends often ended in tears or hurt feelings or the idea that there wouldn’t be another play date—and everyone usually acted as though it was her fault. But Zoe was always content to just be with Penny, and there was something nice about that.

One day, in one of Penny’s dreams, she and Zoe were playing in the playground in Washington Square Park where Penny always used to go with her daddy. And while they were on the swings, Zoe said that it was time for her to go home. Not home, not back to her family—it was time for her to go on.

“To the next place,” said Zoe.

“Where’s that?” Penny asked, even though she already knew, sort of.

“Before and after,” said Zoe. “The place we are before we’re here and the place we go after.”

“Are you scared?” asked Penny. Penny was scared just thinking about it. Where had she come from, and where did people go when they died? All the other questions had answers. Not that one. Not her parents. Not even on Google. Nobody knows the answer to that, her daddy said. Some people think they know. But they don’t. It’s one of life’s grand mysteries.

So everybody dies and no one knows what happens then? Penny had asked her father, disbelieving. It didn’t seem right that there wouldn’t be an answer to a question everybody had.

Her father took a moment to answer. I guess that’s right. But you don’t have to worry about that for a long, long time. Let’s get some gelato.

“No,” said Zoe, in answer to her question. “I’m not scared.” She swung high and fast, the sky a dazzling blue and white above her, her red sneakers reaching for it. “Not anymore.”

When Penny woke up and looked under her bed for Zoe, her friend was gone. And Penny knew that Zoe wouldn’t be back. She wasn’t sad, even though she knew she’d miss Zoe. And she wasn’t scared anymore either.


*

The air had grown colder, and Penny’s ankle had stopped aching in a way. It was more like a strange tingling, growing numb. She dropped back a bit, and Momma didn’t seem to notice, so Penny dropped back a little farther. She looked around for Bobo, but he was gone. She hadn’t seen him since the graveyard. Maybe he had gone back to the house. He didn’t like the graveyard; she knew that. He didn’t like it when Momma went to see Real Penny. The moon was hidden by clouds and the woods around her were just shadows, those black doorways that could be the way home, or the way to something even worse. She could hear the frantic and chaotic whispering of voices.