Read The Black Online

Authors: D. J. MacHale

Tags: #Speculative Fiction

The Black (5 page)

BOOK: The Black
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4

I jumped off the stool and backed away from the old guy. "No, no way," I babbled. "You can't be him."

The guy scratched his head and frowned…
exactly the way Gramps used to when he was thinking. In fact, the guy looked exactly like my gramps, complete with his glasses the size of windowpanes, walrus mustache, and thinning gray hair.

"Don't get all lathered up," he said, which is something Gramps always used to say. "There's nothing wrong here."

"Bull! Everything is wrong here!"

"Hang on now," he said. "Let me think a second."

He scratched his head, again. And frowned, again. Either this guy was really my gramps or he was an incredible impersonator.

"Okay, I got it," he declared. "Who else knows about this?" He held up his hands like claws and bellowed in a
thick Transylvanian accent, "Beware! I have come to suck your blood, for I am…
the
Grampire!"

"Grampire?" the old lady said with a chuckle.

The old man looked to her and shrugged. "He loved that when he was six."

I did. But it only helped to confuse me more.

"Stay the hell away from me!" I yelled, and ran for the door.

"Cooper!" the old man barked in a stern voice that I had heard many times before. I froze, probably out of habit.

"I know this is confusing, kiddo," he said with sympathy. "But running outta here ain't gonna help."

I wanted to believe he was my gramps. But if it was really him, it meant I had to buy into a whole lot of other things that weren't as good.

"My grandfather's dead," I said slowly to make sure he understood every word. "That means you're an imposter, or I'm insane."

The old lady sniffed and patted the old man on the arm. "Good luck with that one, Gene," she said, and left us alone to go back to work.

"I'm afraid there's a third possibility," the old man said.

"Please. Tell me."

"You won't like it."

"I'm not liking
any
of this."

He squinted. Gramps always did that when he was debating with himself. "You want it straight, or should I ease you in slowly?"

"Just tell me!" I shouted.

"You're dead, Cooper."

The words rang in my ears. I felt dizzy. How could I be dead? I was dizzy! You can't be dead and dizzy at the same time.

"You got hit by a speedboat out on Thistledown," he
added. "I'm not sure who was the bigger fool, the kid driving the speedboat or you for being out on that lake at night with the running lights off. What were you thinking?"

I had to breathe. Air. Real air. Dead people didn't breathe and I wanted to prove to myself that I wasn't dead. I ran out of the drugstore and onto the sidewalk to take in a lungful. Everything was so normal. I couldn't be dead.

Somebody clapped me on the back, making me jump. "Hey, Chicken Coop." It was Bernie the mailman. "Feelin' any better?"

He winked at me and kept moving up the Ave. I suddenly remembered why Bernie wasn't our mailman anymore.

"Damn fool."

I whipped around to see the old man standing in the door of the drugstore with his hands in his pockets. "He got himself electrocuted by jiggering somebody's antenna to try and get free cable. His jokes aren't funny here, either."

"Here?" I asked. "What do you mean 'here'? We're in Stony Brook, right?"

He gave me a sad smile and reached out to pat me on the cheek. It was so familiar.

"Wish I could say I was happy to see you, Coop," he said. "Cripes, you're still a kid. Sometimes life just ain't fair."

"Where are we?" I implored.

"We're in Stony Brook all right, but it's
your
Stony Brook. The town as you remember it."

I glanced around, wondering why something so familiar could suddenly seem so alien.

"This must be a dream," I said. "It's all happening inside my head."

"Nope. Sorry."

I looked to the toy shop next door.

The woman in dark clothes was back, watching me. Not moving. Smiling.

I ran straight for the store, yanked open the door, and jumped inside.

"Who are you?" I screamed…
at an empty store.

"Can I help you?" a salesgirl asked, walking toward me from the back of the store. It was a cute girl who looked high school age, definitely not somebody who was dead.

"Where did the lady go who was just here?"

She looked around. "I didn't see anybody."

"I don't know you," I said. "Do you go to Davis Gregory?"

"I did," she replied. "Didn't make it to graduation, though."

"Transfer?"

"Drunk driver."

I took a step back as if her words pushed me. "You got hit by a drunk driver?"

"No," she said, looking sheepish. "Homecoming party. Some guys brought beer. I only had a couple but I never should have tried to drive home. It was totally my fault. Thank god nobody else died. You looking for a toy?"

She reached to a counter and picked up a small, threadbare brown teddy bear with one eye missing. It was my teddy bear. I hadn't seen it since I was seven.

"I'll bet you miss him," the girl said with a smile.

I stumbled backward and pushed my way out of the store to where my Gramps, or whoever he was, waited.

"It's okay, Coop," he said. "You'll be fine."

"Fine!" I screamed. "You're telling me I'm dead. How is that fine?"

Gramps chuckled. "I said the exact same thing when I got here. I was running all over the place, trying to figure out why everybody I saw was somebody dead." He waved his hands in the air, rolled his eyes dramatically, and yelled, "Get me outta here! I don't belong here!" He laughed. "Yeah, that was me. I was in denial. It's natural."

I didn't know what to say. I didn't want to believe him
but didn't have any other explanation. He put his arm around my shoulders. I didn't fight. He was my gramps.

"Try to relax, kiddo. It gets better once you realize it's just part of life. Everybody comes through here eventually."

"Where is 'here'?"

"C'mon," he said. "I'll buy you an ice cream."

A few minutes later we were back in Meade's, sitting in a booth like we had done hundreds of times before. Donna, the soda jerk, served us two impossibly perfect banana splits. I wasn't hungry. How could I be? I was dead. It didn't stop Gramps, though. He chowed. Once he scooped out the last of his sundae and let out a healthy belch, he was ready to talk.

"They call this place the Black. Not sure why. Maybe because of what we go through to get here. Kind of ironic, don't you think?"

"What do you mean?"

"Everybody talks about going toward the light when they're dying. Truth is it's just the opposite. Back there, where the living exist,
that's
the Light. Must be somebody's idea of a joke."

"But this is Stony Brook," I said.

"To
you
it is. Everybody sees it differently. That's the point. When you're here, it's pretty much like how you remember it from the Light. Only difference is, the people still living back there aren't here. Not yet, anyway. That's the biggest downside. Leaving folks behind. I've been waiting on your grandma for…
How long's it been since I took the dirt nap?"

"Dirt nap?"

"Don't be dense, boy. When did I die?"

"About five years ago."

He whistled. "Never would have guessed that. Time doesn't mean much here. Doesn't mean
anything."

"So you see this place like Stony Brook too?"

"When I'm with you. I can see things the way you see them, and you can see through my point of view.
My vision." He leaned in and gave me a mischievous smile. "Think you're ready to give it a try?"

"I don't know what to think anymore," I said.

Gramps slid out of the booth and called out, "Put this on my tab, Donna."

"Will do!" the old lady called back. "You got a fine grandson there, Gene. You should be proud."

"He's all right," Gramps said. "A little full of himself but what can you do."

Donna laughed. "So he's just like you."

"That's enough out of you, young lady," Gramps said playfully.

She winked, "Have fun, you two."

"This is just wrong," I said, numb.

"Sorry, Coop. It's as right as can be," he said, holding out his hand, beckoning me to join him. "C'mon."

I slid out of the booth but didn't take his hand. "Where are we going?"

"Home."

We were suddenly enveloped in a swirling mass of colored fog. It was exactly like the experience I had when I first found myself standing in the pocket park. The drugstore washed away and was quickly replaced by green trees. The temperature changed and it was suddenly chilly. When the fog dissipated, I saw that we were surrounded by tall trees that were alive with the colors of fall. It was the height of the changing season and the leaves were brilliant shades of red, yellow, and gold. We had not only left Stony Brook Avenue, we had left summer.

Gramps and I were standing in the exact same position as when we were in the drugstore, only we
were in a field of
grass. I didn't know if we had moved, or if everything else had moved around us.

Gramps took a deep breath, filling his lungs with brisk fall air.

"Perfect," he declared. "My favorite time of year." "Where are we?" I asked.

"C'mon now! Hasn't been that long, has it?"

There was something familiar about the surroundings. We were standing at the edge of thick woods. I made a slow turn until I saw a white clapboard farmhouse sitting on a rise not thirty yards from us.

In spite of how impossible it all seemed, I had to smile. "It's your house," I said with a gasp.

"That's better," he said. "C'mon, let's have a sit."

The two of us walked across his yard together like we had done so many times before. It made me remember all the time I'd spent with him, helping him with his garden or putting in brick walkways or raking leaves. When I was little, Gramps and I were pals. Seeing that house took away any shred of doubt I had. He was really Gramps.

"This is my vision of the Black," he explained. "My house. In fall. Everything's perfect, 'cept
for your grandma not being here."

Gramps lived in a rural area north of Stony Brook. It wasn't far from civilization, but going there always felt like we had entered another world. On the far side of Gramps' house was a property that was almost as big as his, with another farmhouse and a large barn. A split rail fence separated the two yards.

Someone was standing on the other side of the fence, watching us. It was a girl who could have been my age. She had short black hair and wore a plain, flowered dress and an old blue sweater. She stood there staring at us, but it wasn't unnerving like with the silent creeps in black on the Ave.

When she realized that I had noticed her, she turned and hurried toward her house.

"Who's that?" I asked. "I don't remember her living next to you."

Gramps didn't even look her way. "She lived in that
house long before your grandma and I lived here together."

"Seriously?" I asked. "She's from a different time?"

"Yup."

"I don't get it. Is this your vision or hers?"

"Depends on who you're talking to. Things tend to overlap, but that's what makes it so interesting. You never know who you might run across or where they might take you."

"So what's her story?"

"Don't know," Gramps said abruptly. "She doesn't talk much . . . or at all."

I got the impression that he didn't want to talk about the girl next door. She stood watching us from her porch, peeking out from around a corner as if she didn't want us to know she was there. I gave her a friendly wave and she ducked back like I had whipped a rock at her head.

Gramps led me up onto his porch, where he sat in his favorite white wicker rocking chair. I took my regular place on the wicker couch with the flowered cushions. It felt like I was eight again. Eight and dead.

"You want some ice tea?" Gramps asked.

"I want to go home. I can't be dead. I'm still in high school."

"I know, Coop. I wish you didn't have to know about any of this yet. But unfortunately, age has got nothing to do with it."

"But it's wrong. I shouldn't be here."

"Lots of folks feel that way at first."

"I don't care about other folks. I can't accept this."

Gramps scratched his head again. "Look, Coop, every
body travels the same road. You step on it when you're born into the Light and you follow it all the way through here until you reach the place where you'll spend eternity. We're all on the way there. No use trying to fight it."

BOOK: The Black
12.08Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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