But he never got to finish. The curl deepened. It tugged. It pulled. It yanked. The cable flashed. “Oh,” Wallace grunted as he stumbled.

  “We have to go back,” Hugo said, sounding worried. “Now.”

  “Yeah,” Wallace whispered as the sun dipped below the horizon.

  * * *

  He felt as if he were floating on the ride back. Hugo pushed the scooter as fast as it could go, but Wallace wasn’t worried. He wasn’t scared, not like he’d been before. There was a sense of calm about him, something akin to relief.

  “Hold on!” Hugo shouted at him, but he sounded so very far away. The whispers had returned, growing louder, more insistent.

  His head cleared when they hit the road that led to the tea shop. By then, his hands were gone, his arms were gone, and he thought he’d lost his nose. He groaned as they reformed, the bits and pieces snapping back into place like a complex puzzle. He gasped when Hugo jerked the scooter to the right. He thought they were going to crash, and for a wild moment, he wondered why he hadn’t insisted Hugo wear a helmet. But the thought was gone when he saw what had caused Hugo to lose control out of the corner of his eye.

  Cameron.

  Standing in the middle of the road.

  I’m still here.

  Rocks and dust kicked up around the tires as they skidded. A tree loomed in front of them, a great old thing with cracked bark leaking sap like tears. Wallace reached through Hugo, wrapping his hands around the handlebars, squeezing the brakes as hard as he could. They squealed and the scooter wobbled. The back tire lifted off the road momentarily before slamming back down as the scooter stopped, the front tire inches from the tree.

  “Holy crap,” Hugo muttered. He looked down as Wallace pulled his hands back. “If you hadn’t—”

  Wallace was off the scooter before Hugo could finish. He turned toward the road.

  Cameron’s face was turned toward the stars, mouth open, black teeth bared. His arms were limp at his sides, fingers dangling. He lowered his head as if he could feel Wallace watching him, eyes flat and cold.

  The hook in Wallace’s chest vibrated as hard as he’d ever felt it. It was almost like it was alive. The whispers were now a storm, spinning around him, the words lost, but Wallace knew then what they meant, why he’d felt the drive to leave the tea shop in the first place.

  It was Cameron calling to him.

  Behind him, Hugo lowered the kickstand on the scooter before switching it off, but Wallace wasn’t to be distracted. Not now. He said, “Cameron. You’re still in there, aren’t you? Oh my god, I hear you.”

  Cameron blinked slowly.

  Wallace remembered how he’d felt in the tea garden, Cameron’s hands wrapped around him. The happiness. The fury. The bright moments of the sunshine man, of Zach, Zach, Zach. The thunderous grief that overtook him when all was lost. He’d been told later it’d only lasted seconds, their strange union, but he’d felt a lifetime of peaks and valleys. He was Cameron, he’d seen all that Cameron had seen, had suffered alongside him through the extraordinary unfairness of life. He hadn’t understood the nuances then; it’d all been too much, too fast. He didn’t think he could understand it now, not completely, but the bits and pieces were clearer than they’d been before.

  Even as Hugo screamed for him to stop, Wallace reached out and took Cameron’s hand in his. “Show me,” he whispered.

  And so Cameron did.

  Memories rose like ghosts, and Zach said, “I don’t feel good.”

  He tried to smile.

  He failed.

  His eyes rolled up in his head.

  Alive, then dead.

  But it hadn’t been that quick, had it? No, there’d been more, so much more that Wallace hadn’t been able to parse through the first time. Now, he caught glimpses of it, flashes like staccato film, reels of tape that jerked from frame to frame. He was Cameron, but not.

  His name was Wallace Price. He’d lived. He’d died. And yet, he’d persisted, on and on and on, but that was insignificant, that was minor, that was gone, because Cameron took over, showing him all that lay hidden beneath the surface.

  “Zach,” Wallace whispered as Cameron said, “Zach? Zach?” moving forward, but he (they?) couldn’t catch Zach before he collapsed, head bouncing on the floor with a terrible thunk.

  Wallace was no longer in control, caught up in the bleeding memories that surrounded him like an endless universe, Cameron on the phone, screaming at the 911 operator that he didn’t know what was wrong, he didn’t know what to do, help us, oh please god, help us.

  “Help us,” Wallace whispered. “Please.”

  Another jump, harsh and grating, and Cameron threw open the front door, paramedics pushing by him, lights flashing from an ambulance and a fire truck in front of the house.

  Cameron demanded to know what was wrong as they loaded Zach onto a gurney, the paramedics talking quickly about pupils dilating and blood pressure dropping. Zach’s eyes were closed, body limp, and Wallace felt Cameron’s horror as if it were his own, his mind blaring WHAT IS HAPPENING WHAT IS HAPPENING over and over again.

  He was in the back of the ambulance as they opened Zach’s shirt, asking Cameron if he knew of any history of illness, if he took drugs, if he’d overdosed, you need to tell us everything so we know how to help him.

  He could barely think. “No,” he said, sounding incredulous. “He’s never taken a drug in his life. He doesn’t even like taking aspirin. He’s not sick. He’s never been sick.”

  He stood in the hospital, numb as if his entire body had been submerged in ice, surrounded by friends and Zach’s family when the doctor came out and broke their entire world apart. Bleeding in the brain, the doctor said. A rupture. A fissure. Aneurysmal subarachnoid hemorrhage.

  Brain damage.

  Brain damage.

  Brain damage.

  Cameron said, “But you can help him, right? You can fix him, right? You can make him better, right?” He screamed and screamed, hands on his shoulders, hands on his arms, holding him, keeping him from lunging at the doctor, who backed away slowly.

  They took Zach into surgery immediately.

  He died on the operating table.

  Cameron wore his finest suit to the funeral.

  He made sure Zach had the same.

  A choir sang a hymn of light and wonder, of God and His divine plan, and Wallace screamed in his head, but not as himself. As Cameron, shrieking silently for this all to be a dream, that it couldn’t be real. Wake up! Cameron bellowed in his head. Please, wake up!

  The priest spoke of pain and grief, that we can never understand why someone so full of life could be taken so soon, but that God never gave us more than what he thought we could handle.

  Everyone cried.

  Cameron didn’t.

  Oh, he tried. He tried to force the tears, tried to force himself to feel anything but the numbing, encroaching cold.

  The casket was open.

  He couldn’t look at the body that lay inside.

  “Are you sure?” a friend asked him. “Don’t you want to go say goodbye before…” Her words cut off in a wet choke.

  Cameron stood next to a hole in the ground as the same priest droned on and on about God and His plans and the mysterious, unknowing world. He watched as Zach was lowered into that hole, and still he felt nothing but cold. It was all he knew, and no matter what Wallace did, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t chase the cold away.

  People stayed the night with him. For weeks on end, he wasn’t alone.

  They said, “Cameron, you need to eat.”

  They said, “Cameron, you need to shower.”

  They said, “Cameron, let’s go outside, huh? Get you some fresh air.”

  And finally, they said, “You sure you’re going to be all right by yourself?”

  “I’ll be fine,” he told them. “I’ll be fine.”

  He wasn’t.

  He lasted four months.

  Four months of haunting their home, moving from room to room, calling out for Zach, saying, “We were going to do so many things. You promised me!”

  And still the tears didn’t come.

  He was cold all the time.

  There were days when he didn’t get out of bed, days when he didn’t have the strength to do anything but roll over, pulling the comforter over his head, chasing the scents of Zach, who smelled like woodsmoke and earth and trees, so many trees.

  Toward the end, his friends came back. “We’re worried about you,” they said. “We need to make sure you’re going to be okay.”

  “I’ll be fine,” he told them. “I’ll be fine.”

  On the last day, he woke up.

  On the last day, he ate a bowl of cereal. He washed the bowl and spoon in the sink before putting them away.

  On the last day, he wandered around the house, but he didn’t speak.

  On the last day, he gave up.

  It didn’t hurt, really.

  The end.

  He was only numb.

  And then he was gone.

  Except he wasn’t, was he?

  No.

  Because he stood above himself, watching his lifeblood spill from him, and he said, “Oh. This is Hell.”

  And he was still alone.

  Until a man came. He called himself a Reaper. He smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. There was a curl to his lips that wasn’t kind.

  “I’ll take you away,” the Reaper said. “It’ll all make sense, I promise. Even though you gave your life away like it was nothing, I’ll take care of you.”

  He stood in front of a tea shop at dusk, looking at a sign in the window.

  CLOSED FOR A PRIVATE EVENT

  Hugo waited for him inside. He offered Cameron tea.

  Cameron refused.

  “I’m sorry,” Hugo told him. “For all that you’ve lost.”

  The Reaper snorted. “He did it on his own.”

  And it was like poison in Cameron’s ears.

  There was a door, he knew, but he didn’t trust it. The Reaper had told him that it could lead to just about anywhere. He didn’t know. Hugo didn’t know. No one did. “It could be just endless darkness,” the Reaper mused late at night while Hugo slept. “It could be just nothing at all.”

  Cameron fled the tea shop.

  His skin flaked away.

  The cable snapped and disappeared.

  The hook in his chest dissolved.

  He made it to the town before he fell to his knees in the middle of the road.

  His last lucid thought was of Zach, and how he smiled like the sun, and Wallace knew his desire to feel the same hadn’t only come from himself. It was the last, forceful gasp of the man whose mind he now shared, the sun the last thing he’d held onto before the end of his humanity.

  And here, now, Wallace said, “It isn’t fair. None of it is.”

  “Help me,” Cameron said.

  Wallace looked down as his chest burned as if on fire.

  A curve of metal stuck out from his sternum. The end was attached to the thick, glowing cable that stretched toward Hugo. A connection, a tether, a lifeline between the living and the dead, keeping them from floating away into nothing.

  Wallace reached for the hook, hesitating briefly. “I see it now. It’s not always about the things you’ve done, or the mistakes you’ve made. It’s about the people, and what we’re willing to do for one another. The sacrifices we make. They taught me that. Here, in this place.”

  “Please,” Cameron whispered. “I don’t want to be lost anymore.”

  “Unexpect it,” Wallace said.

  He gripped the hook, the metal hot against his palms and fingers, but it didn’t burn. He pulled as hard as he could, the pain immense, causing him to grit his teeth together. Tears flooded his eyes, and he cried out as the hook came free. The heaviness loosened its grip, a wave of relief washing over him that felt like the sun and the stars.

  He raised the hook above his head.

  And slammed it into Cameron’s chest.

  * * *

  His eyes flashed open when his head rocked to the side from a vicious slap. “Ow! What the hell?”

  He blinked as Mei glared down at him. They were in the tea shop, Wallace looking up from the floor. “You bastard,” Mei snapped at him. “What the hell did you think you were doing?”

  He rubbed the side of his face, cheek still stinging as he sat up. “What are you…” His eyes bulged. “Oh shit.”

  “Yeah, you dick. Oh shit is right. Do you have any idea what you’ve—”

  “Did it work?” he asked desperately. “Did it work?”

  She sighed, shoulders slumping. “Look for yourself.” She reached down, grabbing his arm and pulling him up from the floor. He yelped in surprise when he shot up, feet leaving the ground as if he weighed nothing. With wide eyes, he looked down. He gasped when he saw himself floating a few inches above the floor. He waved his arms up, trying to push himself down. It didn’t work. Mei glared at him as he tried again. “Yeah, that’s your own fault. You’re lucky we still had Apollo’s leash or you’d be gone by now.” She pointed at his ankle. Wrapped around him was a dog leash. He followed the leash until he saw Nelson holding the other end.

  “What’s wrong with me?” he whispered.

  Nelson leaned forward, kissing the back of his hand, lips dry and chapped. “You foolish man. You foolish, wonderful man. You’re floating because there’s nothing left holding you in place. But don’t worry. I’ve got you. I won’t let you float away. Unexpect it, Wallace, and trust that we have you.”

  Apollo nosed Wallace’s ankle, licking frantically at the leash as if to make sure Wallace was still there. “I am,” Wallace whispered, his voice soft and dreamy. “I’m still here.”

  He raised his head, and everything else fell away. Mei. Apollo. Nelson. The leash, the tea shop, the fact that he couldn’t feel the ground. All of it.

  Because a man stood next to Hugo in front of the fireplace, head bowed. He was handsome, though his cheeks were sunken, his eyes red-rimmed as if he’d been crying recently. His light-colored hair hung down around his face. He wore a pair of jeans and a thick sweater, the sleeves hanging over the backs of his hands.

  “Cameron?” Wallace asked, voice cracking.

  Cameron lifted his head. His smile trembled. “Hello, Wallace.” He stepped away from Hugo, looking uncertain. A tear trickled down his cheek. “You … you found me.”

  Wallace nodded dumbly.

  And then he was being hugged within an inch of his life, Cameron’s face pressed against his stomach as Wallace rose into the air as far as the leash allowed. It was different than it’d been before. Gone were the flashes of the life once lived. Cameron wasn’t cold like he’d been. His skin was fever-hot, and his shoulders shook as he held on as tightly as he could. Wallace was helpless to do anything but put his hands in Cameron’s hair, holding on gently.

  “Thank you,” Cameron whispered against his stomach. “Oh my god, thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”

  “Yeah,” Wallace said roughly. “Yes. Of course.”

  CHAPTER

  21

  The next day, Charon’s Crossing Tea and Treats didn’t open as it normally did. The windows were shuttered, lights off, a blind pulled down on the window to the front door. Those who came for their daily tea and pastries were disappointed to find the door locked, a sign in the window.

  DEAR VALUED FRIENDS:

  CHARON’S CROSSING WILL BE CLOSED FOR THE NEXT TWO DAYS DUE TO SOME MINOR RENOVATIONS.

  WE LOOK FORWARD TO SERVING YOU AGAIN WHEN WE REOPEN!

  HUGO & MEI

  * * *

  Wallace floated a few feet above the back deck, watching Apollo run through the tea plants, chasing a cadre of squirrels that didn’t know he was there. He laughed quietly when the dog tripped over his own feet, tumbling to the ground before picking himself up and tearing through the tea plants again. Wallace barely felt the leash tugging at his ankle, tied to the deck railing to keep him from floating away.

  He looked down at the man standing next to him, Wallace’s knees at the same level as the man’s shoulders.

  “I don’t really remember,” Cameron said, and Wallace wasn’t surprised. “What it was like being … a Husk. There are flashes, but I can barely make them out, much less remember them.”

  “It’s probably for the best.” Wallace didn’t know what it’d do to a person to remember their time as a Husk. Nothing good.

  “Two years,” Cameron whispered. “Hugo said it was over two years.”

  “You can’t blame him. He didn’t know. He was told there was nothing that could be done when someone—”

  “I don’t blame him,” Cameron said. Wallace believed him. “I made my own choice. He warned me what would happen if I left, but I couldn’t listen.”

  “It didn’t help that the Reaper tried to force your hand,” Wallace said bitterly.

  Cameron sighed. “Yeah, but that’s not Hugo’s fault. All he wants to do is help, and I wasn’t willing to let him. I was so angry at everything. I thought I’d found a way to make it stop. Everything I was feeling. It was a slap to the face when I realized it wasn’t over. It goes on and on. Do you know what that’s like?”

  “I do.” Then, “Maybe not to the extent you mean, but I get it.”

  Cameron glanced up at him. “You do, don’t you?”

  “I think so. It’s a lot for anyone to realize that we go on, even when our hearts stop beating. That the pain of life still can follow us even through death. I don’t blame you for what happened. I don’t think anyone could. And you shouldn’t blame yourself. Learn from it. Grow from it, but don’t allow it to consume you again. Easier said than done, I know.”

  “But look at you,” Cameron said. “You’re…”

  Wallace laughed against the lump in his throat. “I know. But I don’t want you worrying about that. I think … I think you helped to teach me what I was supposed to learn.”

  “Which was what?” Cameron asked.