“Take the keys and lock her up . . .”
For many weeks now, looking out of the windows had provided no solace. Deadspots were few and far between, and the sight of them was nothing more than a cruel tease from a cold world.
“. . . my fair lady!”
Yet even with his Swiss-cheese, cobwebbed, empty head, Johnnie-O still didn’t reach the same absolute mindless, happy, sing-along stupor that Charlie had found.
“It’s gotta mean something, don’t it, Charlie? The fact that I’m not a complete blithering idiot like you?”
Charlie’s answer was just a vacant smile, and another verse.
. . . But halfway through that verse, a shadow swept across the bulkhead.
“Wait! Did you see that?”
Charlie must have, because he actually stopped singing. At first Johnnie thought that it might be a living-world airplane cutting through their airspace, but as he rose to look out of the window, he saw something flash by. A colorful flash of feathers, and a powerful beat of wings—and then another, and another.
“I think they’re angels, Charlie! The angels came to save us!”
In a moment, he could hear what could only be dainty angel feet setting down on the silver surface of the airship above them.
For the first time in a very long time, Charlie made eye contact with Johnnie-O, and together they sang, “Off we go . . . into the wild blue yonder . . .”
CHAPTER 29
The Great Awakening
Mary could see faces looking down on her, although it was all quite distorted due to the bottles, eyeglass lenses, and random glass objects that made up this strange box she found herself in. Her pallbearers had placed her on the ground and now just stared at her. Mary pushed on the lid, but it wouldn’t give, so she turned to the pallbearer with the sweetest face.
“Excuse me,” she said, “but would you be so kind as to undo the latch?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He knelt down, fumbled nervously with the latch, then pulled open the lid.
As soon as Mary stood up, about half the Afterlights knelt before her respectfully, as if they had been in the habit of doing so. The other half just stood about, looking lost, confused, and startled by living-world traffic that barreled past them.
At first she assumed the kneeling Afterlights were the children she had gathered, but none of their faces were familiar, and there were only about a hundred. When she had been so rudely dragged back to the living world and summarily killed by Milos, there had been close to a thousand.
Mary quickly surmised that the confused ones were all Greensouls—new arrivals to Everlost who had all just woken up from hibernation. But why had they all woken up at once? Clearly something out of the ordinary had occurred here.
“Thank you for the warm reception,” she said. “But there’s no need to kneel.” The kneeling Afterlights reluctantly rose to their feet. “Where is everyone else?” she asked. “Where’s the train?” But no one would field the question.
“Yeah . . . about the train . . .”
Mary turned to see a familiar face at last. “Jill!”
“Hi, Mary,” Jill said. “Uh . . . long time no see?”
Mary stepped out of the coffin and went to her, grasping her hand. Jill, she knew, was not an affectionate girl, but Mary believed everyone could benefit from a warm greeting. “It’s good to see you,” Mary said. “I have so many questions.”
“Yeah, me too!” shouted one of the newly awoken Greensouls. He was rapped in the arm by one of the more respectful Afterlights.
“Quiet! Show respect before the Eastern Witch.”
The Eastern Witch, thought Mary. Not a title she cared for, but for the time being it would do, if it brought her this level of respect.
Another Afterlight came up beside Jill—a strange one. He wore no shirt and his oddly colored muscular body bore spots and a velvety sheen. His eyes were vaguely nonhuman and where other boys his age might be sprouting facial hair, he was sprouting whiskers. Mary would have laughed, but he seemed way too serious for laughter.
“Jill, please introduce me to your friend.”