"I'm really starting not to like you," Johnnie-O said. "Not that I ever liked you to begin with." But still he followed Nick east.
Great tragedies have great consequences. They ripple through the fabric of this world and the next. When the loss is too great for either world to bear, Everlost absorbs the shock, like a cushion between the two.
On a sunny Tuesday--for it seems so many awful things happen on a Tuesday--six astronauts and one schoolteacher attempted to pierce the sky. Instead they touched the stars.
Ask anyone who was alive at the time, and they will still remember where they were the moment they heard that the shuttle Challenger blew up just seventy-three seconds after lifting off from Cape Canaveral. The shape of that terrible explosion became burned into human consciousness like the shape of the mushroom cloud over Hiroshima.
The world mourned the lives lost, as well as mourning the loss of an idea, for although space flight had always been, and would always be a dangerous endeavor, there was a certain unspoken faith that human ingenuity, and the grace of God, would keep our ascent to the heavens safe. But the universe is nothing if not balanced. For every Apollo Thirteen, there would be a Challenger. For every miracle, a tragedy.
But look away now from that fiery forked cloud in the sky, for history cannot be undone. Instead look to the Cape, where you will see a spacecraft pointed eternally heavenward, preserved in Everlost, in that perfect moment of glorious anticipation. Its countdown is forever frozen at one second before liftoff, for that is the last moment a launch can be aborted. It is the moment that stands on the edge of hope and doom.
Seven valiant souls got where they were going that morning, and while eternity opened its gates to welcome them, Everlost opened its gates to welcome the majestic vessel that took them where all men have gone before.
"What is that, some kind of castle?" asked Johnnie-O, looking across the lagoon to the towering marvel.
Nick forgave him his ignorance. What would have been the point in trying to explain this earlier? It was best to let him see it for himself. "It's a spaceship."
fterlight introduced himself as Isaiah. He didn't offer to shake Nick's hand.
"Tell me about Atlanta," Nick said. "How many of you are there?"
Apparently Nick wasn't the only one reluctant to give answers. Isaiah crossed his arms. "First tell me about your train," he said. "I've never seen an Everlost train before."
"My train is my business."
"Well, maybe it won't be your train anymore."
Nick wasn't sure whether this was an actual threat, or just a show of force. He decided to match Isaiah's confidence measure for measure.
"You won't take my train."
"How can you be sure?"
"Because," said Nick, "if you meant to steal it from me, you would have done it already. Besides, you don't strike me as the type. I think you're honorable. I think that's how you got to be in charge here. You probably overthrew some bully, and had everyone's support, because the kids here trusted you."
Isaiah smiled. "I took down a whole lot of bullies, actually." He didn't let the smile linger for long. "Honorable or not, you're trespassing."
"It's not trespassing if we stop the train, and ask for permission to pass." Isaiah was not impressed, so Nick added. "Besides, I have something you need."
"And what might that be?"
"News of the world," Nick told him. "News from the north." "I didn't think there was a north in Everlost," Isaiah said. "And anyway, whatever happens there don't matter to us."
Nick kept silent, waiting for Isaiah's curiosity to kick in. Finally Isaiah said, "What kind of news."
"Have you heard of Mary, the Sky Witch?"
Isaiah shrugged. "Sure I have--but it's just a story, everyone knows it's not true."
"That's where you're wrong." Then Nick told him everything he knew about Mary. How she had kept hundreds of younger kids from finding the light, and leaving Everlost. How Nick had freed them himself, right under her nose ... and how she was now gathering more Afterlights to mother, to pamper, to trap. This time, however, he had reason to believe that Mary was building herself an army.
"Did you give them coins?" Isaiah asked. "Is that how you freed them?"
"You know about the coins?"
Isaiah nodded. "We all had them once, but lost them, or tossed them. Most of the kids here don't know what they're for, but some of us do." He became thoughtful for a moment. "I'd like to think we'll find them again. When we're truly ready to move on."
"Maybe there's a whole bucketful waiting for you." And that's all Nick said about it. Something told him that freeing the kids of Atlanta was best left for another day.