purpose-or that a forced crossing could be a desirable thing. He wanted to think about it, let his mind see it from every possible angle, but there was no time for thinking now.
“C’mon, c’mon, Milos. Let’s get out of here,” said the squirrelly one.
“No,” Milos said, “I will not leave more of a mess than I have to.” Then he turned back to Jix. “Are you alone? Are there others like you?”
But before he could answer, a scream rang out from the living world and a situation that was already bad, suddenly became a whole lot worse.
Jix had always been careful to leave the great cats he furjacked in places where they could do no harm, but in the heat of this extraordinary and terrifying moment, he had released his beast in the middle of a crowd. Confused and frightened, the animal did what frightened predators do. It attacked.
The cat turned on a girl who was no older than twelve. She wore a crimson dress. It was probably the blood color of the dress that got the cat’s attention in the first place. Her life ended quickly with the panther’s first pounce, then the cat bounded away, disappearing into the night. Jix wailed at the sight of his deadly mistake.
Now the girl’s spirit stood in Everlost at the mouth of her own afterlife tunnel-and all because of him. Her eyes were fixed on the light, and she was already moving toward it.
“I got thish one,” said the skinjacker in football gear, then he surged forward, and tackled the girl out of the tunnel like he was sacking a quarterback. She landed right at Jix’s feet and her tunnel disappeared. Jix knelt down cradling her head in his hands.
“ Lo siento,” Jix said. “I’m sorry…”
She looked up at him, her pupils wide and dilated, not yet understanding any of this. “I’m sleepy,” she said. “Tell my parents I’m taking a nap…” Then her eyes closed and her soul plunged into a nine-month slumber.
Milos knelt beside them. While the wild-haired girl seemed impatient, the squirrelly one just scared, and the football player proud of his accomplishment, Milos appeared to have genuine remorse. “What’s done is done,” Milos said. “At least she is at peace now. And when she wakes up, she will be young and beautiful forever, yes? Maybe someday she will thank you.”
“Thank me? She’ll never forgive me!” Jix shouted.
He held on to the sleeping girl, brushing her hair out of her face. She was Hispanic, with very strong Indian features, like himself. How could he have let this happen?
“I have a friend who is very wise,” Milos told him. “Her name is Mary. She says that life in Everlost is a gift. She says we are all chosen to be here because we have been doomed worthy.”
“Deemed,” corrected the wild-haired girl. “ Deemed worthy.”
“Yes,” said Milos. “Forgive my English. The point is, if she was chosen to be here, then there is no reason for you to feel guilt.”
Jix turned to Milos, studying his face, and his eyes: bright blue with speckles of white, like a sky dotted with clouds. “What about you?” he asked Milos. “Do you not feel guilt for what you did?”
Milos took a moment before answering. “None,” he said. “None whatsoever.”
But they both knew he was lying.
Around them, in the living world, the chaos born from this awful evening was taking root. Crowds were gathering, loved ones were grieving, distant sirens drew closer. Jix was glad that the living world could be so easily tuned out by Afterlights. He did not want to witness further results of their actions.
“So what do we do with him?” asked the wild-haired girl.
“Push him down! Push him down!” said the squirrelly one.
“No,” said Milos, “he is a skinjacker. He deserves better than that.” Then he held out his hand to Jix. “Join us, and I promise you will be a part of something grand and glorious.”
Still Jix made no move. Working under His Excellency, Jix had always dreamed he’d be part of something larger than himself. He even dreamed that he would be taken into the king’s inner circle, for Jix was a well- respected scout. But scouting kept him at a distance, and when it came to the king, out of sight was truly out of mind. Whenever Jix returned with news, no matter how important, His Excellency would never even remember his name.
As Jix looked at these villainous, barbaric skinjackers, he found himself more and more curious about them, and oddly attracted to their way of life. Little was known about Mary the Eastern Witch-but here was an opportunity to learn more. What he ultimately did with that information would be entirely up to him.
He looked down at the sleeping girl in his arms, and made a decision. “I want to be there when she wakes up. I want to be the first thing she sees when she opens her eyes. Then I’ll ask her for forgiveness.”
The wild-haired girl rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”
Jix gently lifted the spirit of the sleeping girl onto his shoulder. “Take me to the Eastern Witch.”
The five of them made their way back to the train, everyone but Squirrel carrying a sleeping spirit.
“It’s not my fault,” complained Squirrel. “I couldn’t hold on, my hands were greasy.”
“Your hands are always greasy,” Moose pointed out.
“Right-and it’s not my fault!”
Jix spoke very little on the journey, but even so, he was still the center of attention. They all stared at him, some being more obvious about it than others. Jackin’ Jill didn’t even try to hide the fact that she was staring.
“I’ve seen a lot of freaky Afterlights, but I’ve never seen one like you,” she finally said.
Jix was not bothered. He prided himself on his ongoing transformation. He hoped that in time his form would match that of his animal spirit. These eastern Afterlights knew nothing of animal spirits. They were like the living, disconnected from the universe, seeing themselves as solitary. So self-centered. Yet Milos had asked him if he wanted to be part of something larger than himself, which pointed to some higher purpose. These eastern Afterlights certainly warranted closer observation.
“There is art to what you have done to yourself,” Milos said to Jix, and Jix nodded his acceptance of the compliment.
“So, are there any others in your litter?” said Jill. He didn’t have to see her face to sense the sneer in her voice.
“Only me,” Jix said, offering her as little as possible.
“You are the first Afterlight we have seen west of the Mississippi River,” Milos told him.
“So, you’re all on your own?” Jill pressed. “No leader? No friends?”
Jix considered how he’d answer the question before he spoke. “Cats are solitary animals.”
They arrived at the train just after dawn, still carrying their sleeping souls. The kids who Jix had seen playing the day before were all in the train cars, but now that the sun was up, they would soon be out, and playing their games again. Jix had seen the train only at a distance, so as he drew closer with the skinjackers, he took note of everything.
First, and most obvious, was the little church, curiously blocking the train’s progress. He had seen instances of jamnation before, although he had no such fancy word for it. This predicament made him smile. Such a little, unassuming building standing in the way of a mighty ghost train. It reminded him of a picture he had seen in a library book during his living days. A man standing in front of a giant tank in someplace Chinese. He suspected there was more to this church, however, than met the eye.
The demon was still tied to the front of the train, and now he could tell that it was a she-demon, perhaps La Llorrona -the crying woman-although she didn’t appear to be crying. Not that Jix had actually ever met a she- demon, or knew for sure that such things existed, but he’d heard stories.
The next thing he noticed was a caboose at the other end of the train, decorated with Christmas lights and shiny baubles that reflected the rising sun. He made a note to ask about it when he felt sure he’d get a truthful answer.
And then there was the fourth passenger car. All of the other passenger cars seemed crowded with children, but the fourth car was crowded in a very different way. In the windows, Jix saw faces pressed up against the glass. It was quite literally crammed with Afterlights-there had to be a thousand souls stuck in that cramped space. Jix recalled one time when His Excellency had commanded a group of Afterlights to squeeze themselves into a large ceramic vase that had crossed into Everlost. In the living world it had been big enough to hold no more than two or three-but Afterlights, who are pure spirit, and have no true physical substance, can fit just about anywhere. They kept climbing in, and his Excellency got bored when the count reached fifty. There was no telling how many souls were shoved into this train car.
