Endless

The Bad-Guy List

“What’re we doing here, blondie?”

“Just keep moving,” I replied.

I glanced past Ray Wagner at Bea, who was busy dragging family-slaughterer Tess Crowe out of her Jeep by the light of half a dozen cars’ headlights. All our friends except for Kevin—who was keeping watch on the weather vane in town—and Tristan—who was resting—were present. We’d decided that Bea should go first, since she claimed she was going to go insane if she had to spend one more minute in Tess’s presence. We stood back and watched as the woman gnashed her teeth and rolled her head around, Bea leading her by the length of rope that tied her wrists together. Jack Lancet slouched near the grille of Joaquin’s truck, his bulbous eyes wide, while Piper Malloy paced back and forth in front of Lauren and Fisher, her patent heels gleaming.

At the foot of the bridge, Bea slapped a coin into Tess’s hand.

“Happy trails!” she said loudly.

Then she shoved Tess into the wall of mist that surrounded the bridge. I felt a chill as she was engulfed, remembering vividly the horrors that had awaited inside that wall of fog. I half expected her to come tearing right back out of there, but as was normally the case with charges being ushered, she went in the correct direction. After a few seconds, we heard the telltale, louder-than-a-bullhorn sucking sound that indicated whoever was on the bridge had been ushered to their final destination. The stillness that followed felt unnatural, like some unseen hand had hit a giant button, pausing us where we stood.

“Here goes nothing,” Joaquin said, lifting his walkie-talkie. “Kevin, the first one’s gone over. What’s the status? Over.”

“Nothing yet. Over.”

The seconds dragged out as the wind whipped and the ceiling of fog overhead undulated and swirled. The current theory was that the cold was now keeping the fog aloft, but even if that was possible, I didn’t like it. I had never thought I would wish for the eerie fog to envelop me in its chilling, hissing embrace, but having it hanging above us was almost worse. Menacing. As if it had been biding its time up there these past few days, plotting its final attack.

“The weather vane is pointing south. Over,” Kevin announced.

I let out a relieved breath. At least the coins were getting this right.

“Rory, wanna go next?” Joaquin suggested.

“With pleasure.”

I just wanted to get this over with so I could get back to the jail and check on Pete’s status. Every second that passed that Darcy and my dad were still in the Shadowlands was a second too long. I took Ray Wagner firmly by the arm.

“Oh, so now you’re getting touchy-feely with me? Is that what this is about? You got a little crush?”

I tasted bile in the back of my throat as I walked him over to the bridge. Then I grabbed his hand and turned the palm up, pressing his coin into the meaty flesh.

“This is where we say good-bye,” I told him.

“Good-bye? What do you mean, good-bye?”

I turned him by the shoulders, gave him a little shove, and sent him on his way. The sucking void swallowed him whole, and we waited for the verdict.

“Pointing south again. Over,” Kevin announced.

Another sigh of relief. Joaquin quickly dealt with Jack, and then Piper was the last to go. Her final words to Fisher, with a big smile, were, “Call me!”

When it was done, and the only sounds left in the world were the whistling wind and the idling noise of our car engines, we stood around, waiting. I hovered somewhere between relieved and desperately scared, because the hard part was yet to come. And from the tense looks on my friends’ faces, everyone agreed on that fact.

“So when do we usher a good soul?” I said finally, voicing what everyone was thinking.

“Be advised,” Chief Grantz’s voice buzzed through the walkie-talkies. “The mayor is sending up one of Krista’s charges with Officer Dorn. ETA two minutes.”

Krista blanched. “She’s what?”

“Which charge?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” Krista said, her voice trembling. “I didn’t have anyone on the bad-guy list. What is she—”

Headlights flashed at the crest of the hill, and we turned to watch, instinctively moving into a straight line as the patrol car bumped over the potholed road. The brakes squealed as Dorn turned the car to be parallel with ours, and then he cut the engine. He stepped out, walked around the front of the car, and opened the back door. Out stepped Myra Schwartz, the cut on her head healing nicely. She clutched her purse to her chest and looked around, not exactly scared, but intrigued.

“Where are we?”

Krista broke from the line. “Mrs. Schwartz! What’re you doing here?”

“I have no idea, dear. I was hoping you could tell me,” Myra said, lifting the strap of her bag onto her shoulder. Then she spotted me. “Oh, hello, Rory!”

“Hi, Myra,” I replied, with a faint, strained smile.

“If you could just wait one second, I’ll hopefully have an answer for you,” Krista said. “Rory? Would you come with me to talk to Officer Dorn, please?” Her voice pitched up three octaves with the request.

“Sure.”

We skirted around Myra and pulled Dorn toward his car. “What is going on?” Krista hissed. “She’s not on the bad-guy list.”

“Mayor wants to try ushering one of the good ones,” Dorn said with a sniff, chewing on a piece of gum like a cow.

“What? Already?” I demanded. “Does she really think—”

“What she thinks is, we need to get things back to normal. Get this fog out of here. Clean up the beaches and figure out what the hell to do about the ferry,” Dorn said tersely, looking Krista in the eye with a no-nonsense kind of glare. “If this works, it means Pete was working alone and we can be back to business as usual.”

“Yeah, except my sister and my dad and at least ten other people will still be stuck in the Shadowlands,” I hissed.

“Well, if things get back to normal, we can focus our energy on other things,” he said pointedly. “Like getting them the hell out.”

Krista hugged herself, processing this. She glanced over her shoulder at her charge, a stiff wind blowing her hair back from her face.

“So, what? Mrs. Schwartz is our guinea pig?” Krista demanded. Over by Joaquin’s truck, Myra had taken out her wallet and was showing Bea and Lauren pictures of her grandkids.

“She won the lottery, yep,” Dorn said, hiking up his waistband.

“But what if it doesn’t work? What if she ends up in the Shadowlands?” I asked, my heart pounding.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. No pun intended.” Dorn smirked. Krista and I exchanged a horrified look. “Think of it this way: We’re gonna have to do this sooner or later,” Dorn told us. “And at least if she goes to the Shadowlands, we’ll know we still have someone working against us out here.”

I groaned and shook my head. “I think it’s up to you, Krista. She’s your charge.”

Krista took a deep breath. “If the mayor thinks it’s a good idea, I’m not going to contradict her.” She shook her hair back and squared her shoulders. “I just hope this works.”

“Good luck.”

Krista smiled wanly and walked over to Myra. I saw her take the woman’s hand and slip a coin into it. As I moved closer, I heard Myra thank Krista. I stood next to Joaquin, hoping for that feeling of confidence his presence usually lent me, but he took a slight sidestep away, putting a respectful distance between us. My heart ached and I stared at my toes.

“We’re just going to go for a little walk, okay?” Krista said politely. “This way.”

Myra smiled as Krista led her slowly toward the bridge but paused just inches from the wall of mist.

“Where am I going?” she asked Krista.

My heart nearly broke. A few weeks ago, the answer to that question would have been clear, but now…Krista’s knees actually wavered, and for a second I thought she’d go down, but she held on somehow.

“Someplace beautiful,” Krista told her with a smile. “I promise.”

Myra’s smile widened. Then she turned toward the mist and was gone. I instinctively reached for Joaquin’s hand but caught air. He stared straight ahead, not noticing—or trying to look like he hadn’t. I pinned my wrists together behind my back, straining to ignore the awful sadness welling inside my throat. In seconds, we heard the sucking sound. The mist undulated and swirled, and then everything was still.

Joaquin lifted his walkie. “Kevin? Whaddaya got? Over.”

He looked me in the eye.

“Nothing yet,” Kevin said. “Over.”

“I can’t take this,” Krista whispered, her hands tepeed over her mouth. “I can’t take it.”

My heart seemed to pound harder with each passing second.

“Kevin?” Joaquin said.

I closed my eyes and dipped my head. My knees shook beneath me. Finally, our walkies let out a shrill peel and a crackle.

“It’s pointing north,” Kevin said gleefully. “The vane is pointing north!”