Beautiful Redemption
Page 37
“I need to get back to her—”
“I had a girl once. Penelope was her name. Penny.” He leaned back in his chair, smoothing his scraggly beard. “Eventually she got tired of hanging around here, so she took off.”
“Why didn’t you go with her?” The second I asked the question, I realized it was probably too personal. But he answered anyway.
“I can’t leave.” He said it matter-of-factly, flipping cards for both of us. “I’m the River Master. It’s part of the gig. Can’t run out on the house.”
“You could quit.”
“This isn’t a job, kid. It’s a sentence.” He laughed, but there was a bitterness that made me feel sorry for him. That and the folding card table and the lazy dog with the messed-up tail.
Then “2,000 Light Years from Home” faded out, replaced by “Plundered My Soul.”
I didn’t want to know who was powerful enough to sentence him to sit by what, for the most part, looked like a pretty unimpressive river. It was slow and calm. If he wasn’t hanging out here, I probably could’ve swum across.
“I’m sorry.” What else could I say?
“It’s okay. I made my peace with it a long time ago.” He tapped on my cards. An ace and a seven. “You want a hit?”
Eighteen again.
Charlie had an ace, too.
“Hit me.” I watched as he turned the card between his fingers.
A three of spades.
He took off his shades, ice blue staring back at me. His pupils were so light, they were barely visible. “You gonna call it?”
“Blackjack.”
Charlie pushed back his chair and nodded toward the riverbank. There was a poor man’s ferry waiting, a crude raft made of logs that were bound together with thick rope. It was just like the ones that lined the swamp in Wader’s Creek. Dragon stretched and ambled after him. “Let’s go before I change my mind.”
I followed him to the rickety platform and stepped onto the rotting logs.
Charlie held out his hand. “Time to pay the Ferryman.” He pointed toward the brown water. “Come on. Hit me.”
I tossed the stone and it hit, without so much as a splash.
The moment he lowered the long pole to push against the river bottom, the water changed. A putrid odor rose from the surface—swamp rot, spoiled meat—and something else.
I looked down into the shadowy depths beneath me. The water was clear enough to see all the way to the bottom now, except I couldn’t, because there were bodies everywhere I looked, only inches below the surface. And these weren’t the writhing forms from myths and movies. They were corpses, bloated and waterlogged, still as death. Some faceup, some facedown—but what faces I could see had the same blue lips and terrifyingly white skin. Their hair fanned out around them in the water as they floated and bumped against one another.
“Everyone pays the Ferryman sooner or later.” Charlie shrugged. “Can’t change that.”
The taste of bile rose in my throat, and it took every ounce of energy I had to keep from throwing up. The revulsion must have registered on my face, because Charlie’s tone was sympathetic. “I know, kid. The smell’s hard to take. Why do you think I don’t make many trips across?”
“Why did it change? The river.” I couldn’t drag my eyes away from the waterlogged bodies. “I mean, it wasn’t like this before.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. You just couldn’t see it. There are lots of things we choose not to see. Doesn’t mean they aren’t there, even if we wish they weren’t.”
“I’m tired of seeing everything. It was easier back when I didn’t know anything. I barely even knew I was alive.”
Charlie nodded. “Yeah. So I hear.”
The wooden platform smacked against the opposite bank. “Thanks, Charlie.”
He leaned on the pole, his unnaturally blue, pupil-less eyes staring right through me. “Don’t mention it, kid. I hope you find that girl.”
I reached my hand out cautiously and scratched Dragon behind the ears. I was happy to see my hand didn’t burn off.
The huge dog barked at me.
“Maybe Penny will come back,” I said. “You never know.”
“The odds are against it.”
I stepped onto the bank. “Yeah, well. If you’re going to look at it that way, I guess you could say they’re against me, too.”
“You may be right. If you’re headed where I think.”
Did he know? Maybe this side of the river only led to one place, though I doubted it. The more I learned about the world I thought I knew and all the ones I didn’t, the more everything threaded together, leading everywhere and nowhere at the same time.
“I’m going to the Far Keep.” I didn’t think he’d get the chance to tell any of the Keepers, since he couldn’t leave this spot. Besides, there was something about Charlie I liked. And saying the words only made me feel more like they were true.
“Straight ahead. You can’t miss it.” He pointed into the distance. “But you have to get past the Gatekeeper.”
“I heard.” I had been thinking about it since my visit to Obidias’ house with Aunt Prue.
“Well, you tell him he owes me money,” Charlie said. “I won’t wait around forever.” I looked at him, and he sighed. “Well, say it anyway.”
“I had a girl once. Penelope was her name. Penny.” He leaned back in his chair, smoothing his scraggly beard. “Eventually she got tired of hanging around here, so she took off.”
“Why didn’t you go with her?” The second I asked the question, I realized it was probably too personal. But he answered anyway.
“I can’t leave.” He said it matter-of-factly, flipping cards for both of us. “I’m the River Master. It’s part of the gig. Can’t run out on the house.”
“You could quit.”
“This isn’t a job, kid. It’s a sentence.” He laughed, but there was a bitterness that made me feel sorry for him. That and the folding card table and the lazy dog with the messed-up tail.
Then “2,000 Light Years from Home” faded out, replaced by “Plundered My Soul.”
I didn’t want to know who was powerful enough to sentence him to sit by what, for the most part, looked like a pretty unimpressive river. It was slow and calm. If he wasn’t hanging out here, I probably could’ve swum across.
“I’m sorry.” What else could I say?
“It’s okay. I made my peace with it a long time ago.” He tapped on my cards. An ace and a seven. “You want a hit?”
Eighteen again.
Charlie had an ace, too.
“Hit me.” I watched as he turned the card between his fingers.
A three of spades.
He took off his shades, ice blue staring back at me. His pupils were so light, they were barely visible. “You gonna call it?”
“Blackjack.”
Charlie pushed back his chair and nodded toward the riverbank. There was a poor man’s ferry waiting, a crude raft made of logs that were bound together with thick rope. It was just like the ones that lined the swamp in Wader’s Creek. Dragon stretched and ambled after him. “Let’s go before I change my mind.”
I followed him to the rickety platform and stepped onto the rotting logs.
Charlie held out his hand. “Time to pay the Ferryman.” He pointed toward the brown water. “Come on. Hit me.”
I tossed the stone and it hit, without so much as a splash.
The moment he lowered the long pole to push against the river bottom, the water changed. A putrid odor rose from the surface—swamp rot, spoiled meat—and something else.
I looked down into the shadowy depths beneath me. The water was clear enough to see all the way to the bottom now, except I couldn’t, because there were bodies everywhere I looked, only inches below the surface. And these weren’t the writhing forms from myths and movies. They were corpses, bloated and waterlogged, still as death. Some faceup, some facedown—but what faces I could see had the same blue lips and terrifyingly white skin. Their hair fanned out around them in the water as they floated and bumped against one another.
“Everyone pays the Ferryman sooner or later.” Charlie shrugged. “Can’t change that.”
The taste of bile rose in my throat, and it took every ounce of energy I had to keep from throwing up. The revulsion must have registered on my face, because Charlie’s tone was sympathetic. “I know, kid. The smell’s hard to take. Why do you think I don’t make many trips across?”
“Why did it change? The river.” I couldn’t drag my eyes away from the waterlogged bodies. “I mean, it wasn’t like this before.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. You just couldn’t see it. There are lots of things we choose not to see. Doesn’t mean they aren’t there, even if we wish they weren’t.”
“I’m tired of seeing everything. It was easier back when I didn’t know anything. I barely even knew I was alive.”
Charlie nodded. “Yeah. So I hear.”
The wooden platform smacked against the opposite bank. “Thanks, Charlie.”
He leaned on the pole, his unnaturally blue, pupil-less eyes staring right through me. “Don’t mention it, kid. I hope you find that girl.”
I reached my hand out cautiously and scratched Dragon behind the ears. I was happy to see my hand didn’t burn off.
The huge dog barked at me.
“Maybe Penny will come back,” I said. “You never know.”
“The odds are against it.”
I stepped onto the bank. “Yeah, well. If you’re going to look at it that way, I guess you could say they’re against me, too.”
“You may be right. If you’re headed where I think.”
Did he know? Maybe this side of the river only led to one place, though I doubted it. The more I learned about the world I thought I knew and all the ones I didn’t, the more everything threaded together, leading everywhere and nowhere at the same time.
“I’m going to the Far Keep.” I didn’t think he’d get the chance to tell any of the Keepers, since he couldn’t leave this spot. Besides, there was something about Charlie I liked. And saying the words only made me feel more like they were true.
“Straight ahead. You can’t miss it.” He pointed into the distance. “But you have to get past the Gatekeeper.”
“I heard.” I had been thinking about it since my visit to Obidias’ house with Aunt Prue.
“Well, you tell him he owes me money,” Charlie said. “I won’t wait around forever.” I looked at him, and he sighed. “Well, say it anyway.”
