Out of This World (3 page)

We're still trudging along a shoreline that's a counterpoint to the one south of Santa Feliz. At one point Tío Goyo began explaining how we're a few layers deeper than the part of the otherworld that I first visited. Something about them all being layered, or is it that they exist in the same space, only sideways from each other? I realize I tuned him out.

But now I look around and realize the landscape has been changing. The dirt underfoot seems pretty much the same, but the shoreline is much farther away and we're coming up on some foothills. Behind them I see mountains rising impossibly high. We sure don't have anything like that in So-Cal.

“It's kind of hard not to think about what's happened,” I say.

“I told you. Vincenzo deserved to die.”

“Yeah, but did Chaingang? Did Cory or Tomás?”

“I wouldn't worry about the coyote boy,” he says. “They're next to impossible to kill permanently.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs. “They keep coming back.”

Which doesn't explain anything, so I just say, “Right.”

Cory and maybe even Tomás might be able to come back, but it's hard to think about that big solid presence of Chaingang being gone. Marina must be sad, too.

I don't want to think about that. Not Chaingang dead, or the two of them as a couple. I just can't figure out how they ever hooked up in the first place. I can ask myself the question a thousand times and it still makes no sense.

Chaingang's the guy you'd want to have at your side when it comes to a fight, but hang with him on a regular basis? We don't have anything in common. I can't see Chaingang surfing or skateboarding. I'm pretty sure he's not much of a fan of rockabilly or surf music, so I can't see him hanging out in Des's garage during band practice. Or even sprawled on the couch with us watching movies.

Those were good times. Marina can read for hours, but she always falls asleep during a movie, usually with her head on my shoulder. And she always smells nice, her hair a mix of some fruity shampoo and salt …

Until I messed things up, it was always good. When we walked, she'd often loop her hand into the crook of my arm, and both hello and goodbye usually required a hug.

I think about how betrayed I felt when I found out that she had been a Wildling for months and not told me. And yet I did the same thing to my mom, for the same reason: to keep the people I care for safe.

But after I blew up about it, I couldn't take it back. I could say I was sorry, but it still lay there between us—how I'd been such a jerk—and nothing's been the same since.

Maybe I drove her to Chaingang. It's a stupid idea. But then I think of Des telling me earnestly on more than one occasion how she was into me. He's such a wild exaggerator that I just laughed it off.

Except … except …

I think of other little signs.

I shake my head. Maybe I'm an idiot. All of it—the hugs, the hand on my arm when she's talking to me, even the punches.
Could
she have wanted to be more than just friends?

I just took her for granted. I knew that she'd always be there. But I never had a clue how she really felt until I pushed her away, and then it was obvious that she was hurting bad.

I drove her away. And I
really
didn't have a clue how I felt about her. Until now. When it's too late.

“You're doing it again,” Tío Goyo says.

My head snaps up. “Doing what?”

“Living in your head.”

“Yeah, well, I've got a lot to think about. What are we even doing here? We're supposed to be looking for Elzie. Like, now.”

He nods. “And we will. But to find her we need to recalibrate your awareness of the world around you.”

“How long's that going to take?”

He shrugs. “It depends on how quickly you're able to assimilate what I have to teach you. I'm hoping it won't take more than a few weeks.”

“Weeks? Are you kidding me? This is nuts. She could be dead
today
.”

“This is true. She could already be dead. But I prefer to assume that she's not.” He holds up a hand before I can break in. “Time moves at a different pace in different parts of the otherworld. Where we are, what will seem like weeks to us will be but the blink of an eye to those we left behind.”

“How's that even possible?”

“In the long ago, when the first people lived in the world—”

“You mean the Native Americans?”

“No, I mean your people—the animal people. They were here when the world was born, and in those days there was no reckoning of time. No concepts such as past, present or future. Everything happened at the same time.”

I shake my head. “Time's not something that was made up. Day turns into night. The seasons change. How can that all happen at the same time?”

He shrugs. “I don't know how. I just know that here, it is as it was in the long ago. All times and places take up the same space.”

“I was here before,” I tell him. “A few weeks ago. Time passed the same for us here as it did in our own world.”

He shakes his head. “You were not
here
, where the hours move at a slower, different pace. If you can clear your mind and focus, you will have time to learn.”

“Okay,” I say. “What are you going to teach me?”

The dry wash that we've been following the past while has brought us into the foothills and the mouth of a gulch. The dirt underfoot has changed to rock—big slabs that rise like a giant's staircase, the embankments growing steeper on either side the higher they rise.

“To begin with,” he says, “I want you to jog up to the top of the gulch and back down. Then repeat it—say, ten times.”

“You've got to be kidding.”

“You can take my help or not. But if you take it, you have to do what I say.”

“But what does this accomplish?”

“You'll be concentrating so hard on keeping your footing and actually fulfilling the task that you won't be able to remain distracted. You need to empty your mind before you can actually learn anything.”

I want to ask more questions, tell him he's wrong. I'm ready to learn, but we need to get
going
on it. People need me
now
.

Except I realize he's right. All this ruminating is getting me nowhere.

“All right,” I say. “We'll do it your way.”

I take off up the gulch, jumping from one big stone to the next.

I'm on pins and needles waiting for Donalita to come back. I keep expecting something to go wrong. To hear her getting caught by Josh's mom. Or worse, to hear the sound of the sniper's rifle as he shoots her down. But the night stays quiet except for the surf at the far end of the street and the occasional car that goes by on the main arteries outside our neighbourhood.

When she finally does show up, it's sudden, like the first time. She giggles when I jump, then tosses Josh's phone to me.

“Did you have any trouble?” I whisper.

“Don't be silly.” She cocks her head. “Why can't I just kill the man with the rifle? Then we wouldn't have to do all this sneaking around.”

I don't know how serious this bloodthirsty streak of hers actually is. I
think
it's just for show, but in case it's not …

“Well, first off,” I tell her, “we don't just go around killing people. And secondly, that'll put the rest of them on guard. Right now we know where the threat is. If they take a different approach, we might not see it coming.”

“Well, that's not much fun.”

“It's called being sensible, dude. And I can't believe I just said that.”

She nods. “Me neither. It's so strange that you think I look like a boy.”

“No, I meant—never mind. Look, thanks for your help, but I need to get going.”

“Where to?”

I hold up Josh's phone. “I've got to get this to a safe place where I can meet Agent Solana.”

“Can I come, too?” she asks.

She seems pretty flaky—and this is me saying that—but she's an old-school Wildling, which means she's stronger and tougher than she appears. I'm not so stupid as to turn down help when I have no idea what I'm getting into.

“Sure, dude,” I tell her. “I'd be happy to have you tag along.”

“You did it again,” she says. “You called me—”

“Dude. I know. It's just a thing. Think of it as a term of affection.”

Her face brightens even more. “Really? So you want to be my boyfriend—
dude
?”

Oh boy, not again.

“What is it with you Wildling girls anyway?” I ask.

She gives me a confused look.

“Look,” I tell her. “I met Joanie Jones—you know, seriously hot lead singer with The Wild Surf?—and she was all over me. I do okay with the ladies, but this was ridiculous. Pheromones, right?”

“Most of us don't have that ability—and you sure don't.”

“Then what gives?”

“Did you ever think that maybe it's because you're pretty cute?”

“Yeah, right,” is all I say.

“Well,
I
think you are.” She grins. “You know, for a human.”

“Let's take it a step at a time,” I tell her.

“I can do that. I take all my steps one at a time. I'm very good

at it.”

“I'm sure you are.”

I've decided that the old amusement park north of the pier would be an excellent place to wait for Solana. As I head off in that direction, Donalita walks beside me, exaggerating every step until she's sure I notice. Then she skips around me singing some nonsense song in which every second word is
dude
.

“Not so loud,” I warn her.

She nods and puts a finger to her lips, but she keeps on singing in a whisper, still dancing circles around me the whole way to the Santa Feliz beach boardwalk. I sit down on a bench where I can look out at the old park, the abandoned rides lost in the darkness. Donalita finishes her song with a flourishing
“Doodeet-dee-dude!”
and jumps up onto the backrest of the bench where she sits on her heels, perching like a bird. Her gaze goes to the park.

“Can we go on one of the rides?” she asks.

“They're all broken.”

“But we could still climb up the Ferris wheel and sit at the very top and try to catch the moon.”

“We could, but let's not.”

“Poo. You're no fun.”

That's a new one for me. Usually “You're no fun” is my line.

Before I can brood over that, Donalita pokes me in the shoulder with a stiff finger.

“Can we at least run up and down the beach?” she asks. “And then spin around in circles until we fall down?”

“Go ahead,” I tell her. “I'm just going to wait here to see if Solana shows up.”

“That's so boring.”

“One of us has to be the responsible one,” I say.

Then I have to laugh. If Marina were here, she'd be killing herself because that's
her
line.

“What's so funny?” Donalita asks.

“I think I'm turning into my father. Just call me Ted from now on.”

“I don't understand.”

“Because you're me and I've turned into an old man.”

She cocks her head and studies me carefully.

“Not literally, dude,” I say.

She grins. “Waiting is boring, but you're funny. You're much more fun than Theo.”

“I'll be sure to tell him that.”

“You could give him lessons on how to be more fun—except he
does
have a motorcycle. Do you have a motorcycle?”

“Not even close.”

It goes on like that for a while until she suddenly sits up straight and looks across the beach to the parking lot.

“That's interesting,” she says.

I follow her gaze, but it's too dark out here and I can't tell what she's looking at. I don't have a Wildling's enhanced vision.

“What is it?” I ask.

Instead of answering, she shifts to her coatimundi shape—
and jumps down to the ground. A moment later she's pressed up against the backs of my legs.

The fact that she's hiding from whatever she sensed out there makes my pulse jump. I try to take comfort from the fact that she said “interesting.” She didn't say “terrifying,” or even “dangerous.” Except why is she hiding?

A car door opens in the parking lot, and by the interior light, I can see someone getting out, but it's too far away for me to recognize them. The door car slams and whoever it is comes walking along the concrete path where I'm sitting.

Okay, dude, I tell myself. Just be cool.

I drape an arm along the back of the bench and wait. It's not until he's almost upon me that I realize it's Agent Solana. He doesn't beat around the bush. Hands on his hips, he looks down at me and demands, “Where's Josh?”

“Dude, you'd never believe me.”