The Light (Morpheus Road) (11 page)

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Chapter 8

"The number you are trying to reach is temporarily out of service. Please try again later."

The more I heard that voice, the more I hated it. Since I had heard it a couple dozen times, I was ready to tear the guy's head off. I sent a load of text messages too. It was like sending them into the void of deep space. I kept hoping that "temporary" meant Cooper would eventually answer.

I was sitting in an old stone bus stop a mile from my house. No way I was going back home. Ever. I was miserable. The rain wouldn't let up, and the ancient stone structure didn't do much to keep me dry. At least it was a warm night. As I sat there alone, I wished I was more like Cooper. Coop had lots of friends. I had Coop. There were plenty of guys I knew, but none that I could stop by their house in the middle of the night and declare that I was being haunted by crazy visions and needed a place to crash.

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After trying Coop's number for the thirty-
fourth
time, I thought of a plan. When the Foleys went away, they always had somebody stay at their house to watch things and feed their dog. It was ten o'clock at night. Not too late to pay a visit. Chances were that whoever was house-sitting would have the phone number for Mr. and Mrs. Foley. If I could get to Coop's parents, they could get me to Coop. Once he heard how desperate I was, he would definitely convince one of his parents to come pick me up. It was a good plan and it made me feel a little better.

Cooper lived a few miles from me in a big old house at the end of a cul-de-sac. If I had a nickel for every time I had ridden my bike there, well, I'd have enough money to buy a freakin' plane ticket and get my butt to Dad in Las Vegas, where it was sunny and safe, instead of riding my bike around in the rain. When I turned onto Coop's street and saw his house, I was relieved to see lights on inside. The house sitter was there and awake. So far, so good. I dropped my bike near the front door, climbed the stairs to the porch, and rang the bell.

I hoped that whoever was staying there wouldn't be horrified by the sight of a soaked stranger paying a visit that late at night. I had a moment of panic, thinking they wouldn't let me in or give me the Foleys' phone number. I had to somehow convince them I wasn't some homeless dude and that I was Cooper's best friend and it was really important that I speak with him because I was going insane. I decided to leave out the part about going insane.

The porch light came on and a face appeared at the window in the door. I don't know why I hadn't thought of this possibility before, but I hadn't. I suddenly felt totally self-conscious. Peering at me through the window was Cooper's sister, Sydney. She stared at me like I was a strange creep who had no business ringing her doorbell that late at night . . . which is exactly what I was.

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"What do you want?" she said. I felt her iciness through the door.

"It's me, Sydney, Marshall Seaver."

She gave me a blank look. It was like I had said I was an alien from the planet Nimnak.

"Cooper's friend," I added.

Since Sydney and Coop didn't hang around with each other, I hardly ever saw her other than in passing. She was always on the way to somewhere more important than where I was. I didn't think much of it until we got older and Sydney started getting, what's the word ...
hot.
I wouldn't have minded hanging around with her. Then again, I had trouble speaking in her presence, so maybe it was for the best.

"What do you want?" she repeated impatiently.

"I have to talk to Cooper."

"He's not here," she declared, and turned out the porch light.

Nice.

Ordinarily I would have skulked away, beaten and embarrassed, but there was nothing ordinary about what I was dealing with. I boldly rang the doorbell again. Two seconds later Sydney returned and glared at me. She didn't turn the light back on.

"Are you deaf?" she snarled, annoyed.

"I know Coop's not here," I said quickly. "I've been trying his cell phone, but it's out of service. Please don't walk away, Sydney. I really gotta talk to him."

I must have sounded desperate because, well, I was desperate. Sydney stared at me for another moment with those sharp blue eyes. Normally I would have melted, but I was way beyond that. Sydney unlocked the door. I was so relieved, I could have hugged her. Not that I needed an excuse to want to hug Sydney Foley. She opened the door and I gratefully jumped inside.

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"Hey!" she screamed. "You're all wet!"

I looked down at my dripping sweats. "Uh, yeah. It's raining."

Sydney rolled her eyes. "Really? I wouldn't have guessed."

She reached to the floor and picked up a dirty towel that was probably there for people to wipe their shoes on. She tossed it to me like I was some leper she didn't want to get too close to. I didn't care that the towel was filthy. I took it gladly and dried off, happy for the show of kindness . . . no matter how grudging it might have been. All the while Sydney stared at me like I was an infection.

"You didn't go to the lake?" I asked.

"No," she said. "I'm up there right now."

Her sarcasm didn't bother me. I was just grateful to be able to speak. I guess my insanity was stronger than the self-consciousness I usually felt around Sydney.

She turned her back on me and went to the foot of the stairs, where she sat down and stared at me like my every move annoyed her. Her long black hair was tied back in a ponytail. She had on blue flowered pajama bottoms and a T-shirt that didn't quite reach the top of her bottoms. This was a girl who had no trouble getting boyfriends . . . which gave me a sudden, sick feeling.

"Mikey Russo isn't here, is he?" I asked.

"Why?" she shot back. "Are you checking up on me?"

"No!" I said quickly. "I don't care if he's here. That's your business, not mine. I'm not prying or checking up or anything. Really."

Actually, it
was
my business, a little. Mikey had nearly pounded me the last time I'd seen him. I had enough problems without having to deal with that creep.

"So you're running around in the rain in the middle of the night just to find a way to talk to Cooper?" she asked as if it were the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard.

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I'm not sure why I answered the way I did. Maybe I was relieved to be speaking to a regular human. Maybe it was being in the familiar comfort of Cooper's house. Or maybe I was so far out of my mind, I couldn't think straight anymore. Whatever the reason, I unloaded on the last person in the world who cared.

"I'm in trouble," I began.

Sydney raised an eyebrow, which was the most interest she'd ever shown in anything having to do with me.

"Why?" she asked sarcastically. "Did you forget the secret password to your Klingon club?"

I ignored the insult.

"I'm seeing things," I said. "Impossible things."

I had her attention. The more I talked, the faster it came out of me.

"None of this is going to sound real. Believe me, that's the problem. My dad's out of town and somebody got into my house last night. I heard them. But when I searched, there was nobody around. Then today I got a call from a student teacher. Frano? You know him?"

"No."

"Well, anyway, he wanted me to pick up some unfinished artwork at school, but when I went there, I saw my cat. My cat was at school! I followed her into an old gym they use for storage, and I know this sounds impossible, but I'm not lying, I saw a character that I created. That I draw. He was there. For real. Then stuff started falling and I nearly got killed for the
first
time when these big glass windows crashed down. But I escaped, and when I saw Frano, he said he never called me, and the artwork that wasn't finished was suddenly finished! And when I went home, my cat was there. She had never left the house, but I swear it was her at school. Then the phone. I heard a strange voice tell me I had to take a journey on the Morpheus Road, and then my

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character ... Gravedigger? . . . from school? . . . the guy I draw? ... he showed up at my house! There was a Christmas tree and ornaments that exploded with blood, and Grave-digger attacked me again, so I had to get out of there and got on my bike and almost slammed into a car, which was the
second
time I was nearly killed today, and I know this is all ridiculous, but I feel like the only person who would listen to me and not think I'm crazy is Cooper ... even though I think maybe I am crazy ... but his phone doesn't work and I was hoping you'd call your parents, so I could talk to him."

Once I started, I couldn't stop. When I got it all out, I stood there breathing hard, facing Sydney, who sat on the stairs with no expression. I wasn't sure if she'd feel sorry for me and help me out, or call the police. She blinked once. Twice. Then her face turned hard.

"Get the hell out of here," she commanded.

"Please, Sydney, I know it's crazy but--"

"It's not crazy," she said as she stood up. "It's a joke that isn't funny."

"It's not a joke. I'm dead serious!"

"Cooper put you up to this."

"Cooper? No! I told you I can't even talk to him!" I remembered something. "Wait. There's more. It's not just about Gravedigger." I looked around and saw some junk mail near the door. I lunged for it, then grabbed a pen that was on the table near the door.

"Put that down and leave now!" she ordered. She was pretty calm, considering there was a raving lunatic in her house who was busy . . . raving.

"Wait," I begged. "There's something else. It's like a . . . a . . . symbol. It keeps appearing. In chocolate powder and on the shower door and in pieces of glass." I got down on my knees and began to draw the design with the three swirls.

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"I don't know what this is or how it keeps showing up. I've never seen anything like it."

"That's it! I'm calling Mikey--"

"Call him!" I shouted. "I don't care. Don't you get it? I'm terrified. This isn't a joke or a . . . a . . . prank. I'm scared to death and I don't know what to do!"

I held the drawing of the three rings up to Sydney, hoping it was further proof that I was off my nut and needed help. I wasn't expecting the reaction she gave me. Her eyes opened and her mouth dropped. For the first time in, well,
ever
as far as I knew, Sydney Foley was thrown. She stared at the crude drawing, unable to speak.

"What?" I asked. "Does this mean something to you?"

Sydney recovered quickly. Her bewilderment turned to anger. No, rage. "Get. . . the hell. . . out!" she snarled at me.

I stumbled to my feet as she stalked toward me, backing me to the door.

"Sydney, please, I have to talk to Cooper--"

"Like you haven't already."

"I haven't, I swear! Not since he left for the lake."

I didn't know whether to be angry or to cry or to drop to my knees and beg her to call her parents.

"Please. Please, Sydney. Help me. I don't have anywhere to go."

"You can go to hell, and take my brother with you," she said as she reached past me and opened the door. Sydney was about to cut me off from the only people I thought could help me. It was the last straw. I hate to admit it, but I started to cry. That's how desperate I was. I had turned into a blubbering two-year-old.

"I'm scared, Sydney. I'm really scared. Please. Just call your parents."

"Go away!" she shouted, and gave me a shove that was surprisingly strong. Or maybe I was surprisingly weak. I

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stumbled out of the door and across the porch, and tumbled down the steps to the grass below. I lay there in a puddle as the rain picked up even harder. I couldn't stop crying. The only hope I had was gone. There was nowhere else for me to go. I don't know how long I lay there. Five minutes? Ten? I didn't have the strength to get up. I didn't
want
to get up. Where would I go?

I heard the sound of footsteps coming toward me. For all I knew it was Gravedigger coming to impale me with his silver pick. Oddly, the rain stopped falling. I thought maybe it had let up, but it seemed to be falling everywhere else but on me. I turned to look up and saw Sydney standing over me, holding an umbrella.

"This better not be an act," she said.

I wiped my eyes. "I wish it was," I answered.

"You swear to god you haven't been talking to my brother?"

"If I could talk to him, I wouldn't be here."

"Get up," she demanded.

I picked my pathetic self up out of the puddle and stood in front of her, too embarrassed to even look her in the eye.

"I don't think you're clever enough to be lying about this," she said coldly.

"I'm not."

"Only three people in the world have seen this."

"Seen what?" I asked, suddenly intrigued.

"Me, Cooper, and the redneck lowlife who did it."

"I, uh, what are you talking about?"

Sydney turned her back to me. She reached to the waistband of her pajama bottoms and tugged the right side down a few inches. I was too far gone to think of this as anything other than strange.

"Uh, what are you doing?" I asked.

"No, what are
you
doing? How do you know?"