When, one day, the world just suddenly ends, Em stumbles into the nothing, an empty void that lies beneath the surface of reality, the sole occupants of which are malevolent shadow beings called glowdarks.
Only a select number of individuals possess...
"You may be onto something," says Melody, her shoes splashing through the blood. "I distinctly remember dropping my Q-blip here when we were attacked. Well, it's gone now. She must've seen an opportunity and, well..." She sighs. "Looks like she pulled a fast one on us."
I could be angry. I could hate her for leaving. Assuming that's even what happened—again, my intuitions, for lack of a better word, are cryptic at best. But the thing is, she had friends she was trying to get back to. A few hours ago, I'd have broken down at the thought that I might never see her again. But now? The numbness works like a salve for the pain. And you know what? I'm kind of happy for her. I'd like to think that she found what she was looking for.
We don't dwell here any longer than we have to. Once we've confirmed that Edgar's is the only body, we tread deeper into the woods—anything to distance ourselves from all of that blood. We trek through the trees, and what we find is a pair of bloody footprints. A trail of breadcrumbs. A trail that leads us back to Crawford.
It warms me a little to see Mya throw herself into his arms. To see that she hasn't lost everything. I guess there's a little humanity left in me after all. But Crawford didn't survive. I can tell when I look in his eyes. Sure, his body's in one piece. But the guy I once shared a meal of hairy fish with died back there. So did I. Over and over and over.
There's no sign of the others. Whether that means they're dead or just lost is anyone's guess. Lost. That one makes me chuckle. As if any of us have a clue where we are. Or where we're supposed to be. I steal a glance at Colby. Supposedly, that runic symbol on his chest was preventing him from communicating with Olivia. So why hasn't she gotten in touch with him yet? Or, more to the point, why didn't she just tell me how to get to Ganeden when she had the chance?
And that's when it hits me like a bullet train: she did.
A pleasant scent wafts my way, something vaguely familiar. I know this smell. From where or when, I can't say, but I know it. But I can't quite put my finger on it. A memory tugs at the back of my mind.
"Anybody else smell that?" I ask, approaching the nearest bone tree. No, that only smells of chalk and sawdust. This is something else.
"I don't smell anything," says Melody. "Other than blood and rot, I mean. Are you feeling all right?"
Crawford's face darts up from where it was buried in Mya's shoulder. His red eyes widen. "I smell it too. Smells sweet. Kind of like... syrup?"
"It could be sap," Melody admits. "There's a patch of maple trees down by the—"
"Sea," I say. A wide grin spreads across my face. "Pancakes and sea salt."
They all give me an awkward look. Fair enough—they weren't there when I dreamt it. Pancakes and sea salt. Tree sap and ocean brine. Funny how dreams tend to slip a nugget of useful information in with all the nonsense.
"That's where we've got to go," I say triumphantly.
A look of determination flashes across Melody's face. "I'll lead the way."
Nothing happens by chance. Rex was meant to get us here. Melody's meant to take us the rest of the way. I feel a metallic clanging inside, like a rusty bullet ricocheting off the walls of a hollowed-out cavity crusted over with disappointment. I get a bittersweet taste in my mouth. Sweet because I smell sap. Bitter because Comma isn't here to see it. Wherever she is in this hellhole of a multiverse, I hope she finds what she's looking for.
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Author's Note:
Sometimes things just work out nicely. For example, it occurred to me while writing this chapter that it wouldn't make sense for Olivia not to have tried to tell Em the way to Ganeden. So I read through the dream chapter, hoping I'd written something that could be construed as a clue, and sure enough, there was that pancakes and sea salt line staring me in the face. That's kind of the magic of writing, isn't it? Despite for the most part making the story up as I go along, I can't count the number of times I've realized that some throwaway line in a previous chapter is actually the missing piece to whatever puzzle I'm currently trying to solve. Anyway, I can't say for sure how long it's going to take to get to the end of this volume, but we are definitely in the final stretch now.
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