The Light (Morpheus Road) (35 page)

"What
might be done?" Sydney cried. "There was no purpose to any of this."

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She sat back and started to cry. Sydney Foley looked so incredibly vulnerable, it made me want to lean over and hold her to try and make her feel better, not that it would have helped.

"My brother's dead and I need to know why," she said through her tears. "If not for me, he never would have been here in the first place."

"Cooper never did anything he didn't want to," I said. "You know that better than anybody. You didn't put him out on the lake that night, or turn out his running lights, or put Cayden Reilly behind the wheel of that boat."

"But if he hadn't sold those tickets for me, he'd still be alive."

"Or something else might have happened to him."

She gave me a confused look. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means if anybody's responsible for Cooper's death, it's me. You said it yourself. Gravedigger is my creation. If he caused Cayden to run down Cooper ..." I couldn't finish the thought. The idea that I was somehow responsible for the death of my best friend was too hard to even imagine, but it was something I had to accept.

Sydney said, "I don't believe for a second that you did anything to hurt Cooper."

I fought to stay calm. Losing it wouldn't have helped anybody. "I've been terrorized for a week by an image that was pulled out of my head. It wasn't random. It wants something from me. It wants me to take a journey."

"The Morpheus Road," Sydney said.

"Yeah. It called me the source and said the journey would begin once the poleax was returned."

"Do you know what any of that means?" she asked.

"No, and I have the sick feeling I never will. Part of me doesn't want to know. I want this to be done. I want my life

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back. But I'm not sure which is worse . . . being targeted by a supernatural being or never knowing why my best friend was killed."

I took a deep breath and added, "I don't have answers to any of this. I don't even know the right questions to ask."

Sydney rubbed her forehead. It didn't matter that her eyes were red and swollen, she was the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen. "Do you hate me, Marsh?"

"What? Why would I hate you?"

"I haven't exactly been civil to you for, oh, your whole life."

I shrugged. "We're two different people."

"Maybe, but you're not the same person you were."

I thought about what that could mean and said, "I know you meant that as a compliment, but I'm not so sure it's a good thing. I kind of liked who I was."

Sydney leaned over, held my chin with her hand, pulled me closer, and kissed me. A real kiss. It was such a surprise that I didn't have time to enjoy it. It was over before I even registered what had happened. She pulled away from me and, while still holding my chin, she said, "As long as you're around, we'll never lose Cooper entirely. So don't go

anywhere, okay?"

"Okay" was all I could croak out.

I glanced to the picture on the table. The one Mom had given Cooper. Eternity. Mom had told him that as long as we leave things behind, we never truly die. Cooper may have been gone, but he'd never die.

As it turned out, my dad didn't listen to me. He found a flight out of Las Vegas to Hartford, rented a car, and drove directly to the lake that same night. As glad as I was to see him, it made things awkward. Up until he arrived, I felt like part of the Foley family. Once Dad got there, it made me realize I wasn't. Not really. Or maybe it was because Dad was

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the outsider. He spent some time with the Foleys, offering his support and listening to whatever they had to say. The Foleys were going to have to hear and say the same things over and over again, but at that moment it was all new and it seemed like talking to Dad helped them a little. After some teary good-byes, we got into his rental car and headed home.

On the drive I was happy that Dad didn't pump me for information. If anything, he offered some.

"I went to the State Police barracks first," he said. "They pretty much filled me in on what happened. They had some nice things to say about you."

That was a relief. I didn't feel like telling him the story because I didn't even know what story to tell.

Dad said, "Apparently, the kid who was driving the boat is a mess. He was racing another boat when the accident happened, but the police don't know of any other boat like that on the lake."

My stomach twisted. Was this mystery boat an illusion created by Gravedigger? If so, it was further proof that Gravedigger had orchestrated Cooper's death.

Dad said, "They told me you were the one who put it together and figured out what happened."

"Sort of," I answered. "Me and Sydney."

"I'm proud of you, Marsh."

I shrugged. Dad wanted me to talk, but I wasn't in the mood.

He said, "I want to be a wise parent and give you the wisdom I gained from going through a tragedy and losing somebody close to me, but you've got as much experience along those lines as I do. I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For not being here, for one. But more because you've had to deal with such tragedy, twice. Jeez, you're so young. It's not fair."

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Dad didn't know the half of it. I wanted to tell him everything. I wanted to explain about Gravedigger and the illusions and the violent deaths of Reilly and George O. and about how Sydney and I had nearly bought it a couple of times . . . but I couldn't find the words. It all sounded so incredibly, well, incredible. And George O.'s words kept running through my head.

The more people who know, the more will be in danger.

I told him everything else, though ... about Cooper's almost-date with Britt, and the Reillys, and George O. giving me his key before he got hit, and finding the pieces of the
Galileo
in his house. I explained that Sheriff Vrtiak had picked me up for having gone into George O.'s house, and the accident that followed. I told him how Reilly had attacked me to protect his son because I was getting close to the truth, then tried to run Sydney and me down on the lake. I even told him about firing the flare gun that made Reilly lose control of the boat and slam into the seaplane. I told him everything.. . . except about the supernatural force that guided it all.

After I finished the story, Dad didn't say a word. I think he was in shock.

"Dad?" I said. "What are you thinking?"

"Uhh," he muttered, dumbfounded. "I'm thinking my biggest worry in Vegas was that you'd have enough to eat."

Having Dad home was a huge relief but awkward. I had been on my own, more or less, for the past week. I had had to deal with a lot of stuff and didn't have to answer to anyone. With Dad back in the picture, I wasn't sure what my role was supposed to be. How was he going to react to it all? Was he going to be all guilty for leaving me alone and start hovering over me like a protective parent?

My answer came when we got back to the house and he saw the smashed window and damaged gutter. He could

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easily have gone crazy and grounded me and demanded to know what I had been doing.

"What happened?" he asked.

"It was an accident," I said. "My fault. I'll get it fixed."

"Okay," he said.

And that was it. He didn't press for details. He didn't lecture. Maybe it was because after all that had happened, a little fixable damage was small potatoes. Or maybe he trusted me to do the right thing.

It was good to have him home.

There were so many thoughts and emotions running through my head that I had trouble sorting it all out. There was grief over Cooper, sadness for the Foleys, guilt over the deaths of those people at the lake, and most of all, the fear that I might have somehow caused it all. Oddly enough, even with all that confusion bouncing around, I had the first full night's sleep I'd had in a week. It helped that there were no visions, no visits from evil demons, no fear that something was out there waiting to pounce on me. When I woke up, the sun was shining and life seemed close to normal.

The funeral was the following day because the Foleys didn't want to stretch things out. The big old gray stone church on the Ave was packed. It looked like all of Stony Brook had shown up. I think most of our class from Davis Gregory was there along with their parents. The guys Coop played football with sat together, wearing their red jackets. It reminded me that we hadn't recovered Coop's jacket. That was a shame. The Foleys had many relatives who had flown in from I-didn't-know-where. I had no idea that Cooper knew so many people. Maybe he didn't, but they sure knew him and came by the hundreds to say good-bye.

Dad and I took seats a few rows behind Coop's family. When Mrs. Foley saw us, she marched back, grabbed me by the hand, and brought us both up to sit with them. I

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really appreciated it. As Mr. Foley said, I was like their third kid. I was positioned between Dad and Sydney, who had on a black dress that looked fantastic. She never took off her sunglasses. I had on an old blue blazer and a tie I had borrowed from Dad.

The coffin sat in the center aisle, covered with flowers. I couldn't take my eyes off the thing. It was hard to believe that Cooper was in there. I had to keep telling myself that it wasn't him. It was only his body. The spirit that was Cooper was someplace else. I knew that for sure because he had been looking out for me. I wondered if he was in that church somewhere, checking things out. I knew what he'd be thinking: "Decent turnout. Cool." One guy who didn't turn up was Mikey Russo. With Cooper gone, he was probably off the hook for his part in the counterfeit ticket fiasco. I'd put money on the fact that it was the first thing he thought of when he heard that Cooper was killed. I hoped Sydney was finished with that loser.

A lot of people got up to speak. Coaches, teachers, even a couple of kids. They tried their best to put on the whole "celebration of life" show, but it was strained. Up near the altar was a big picture of Coop that showed him at his best. He had a big, beaming smile after having just won a race for the school track team. I remembered the moment. I was there. It was the best thing about the service, and the saddest.

The hardest part of the event was when I got up to speak. I wanted to bail on giving a speech, but that would have been wrong. I don't think anybody would have blamed me, except for Cooper maybe. Since he was probably watching, I didn't want to let him down. Once everybody had said what they had to say, I got up and walked to the podium. I hadn't written anything down. As soon as I got up there, I wished I had. It would have been a lot easier to read from a piece of paper than to keep my head together and actually think.

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Looking over the sea of sad faces was tough. There had to be hundreds of people there, all with the same pained expression.

As I looked over the crowd, trying to collect my thoughts, I saw something unexpected. In the back of the church, standing among all the others who couldn't find a seat, was Ennis Mobley, my mom's old assistant. What was he doing there? He didn't know Cooper. Besides, he was supposed to be in Pakistan. I figured he was there to support me and Dad, but why would he fly back from Pakistan for that? Can you get from Pakistan to Connecticut that fast? How would he even have known about Cooper?

I couldn't worry about it just then--I had too many people waiting for me to say something. My fear was that I was going to start crying and make an ass of myself, but once I launched, it all came pretty easy.

"Coop and I have been friends since forever," I began. "I can't remember life without him. I'm going to miss him. We all are. But the thing is, Cooper isn't really gone. Right now he lives on in our memories. I know, that sounds nice and it's a good thing to say at times like this, but the truth is, memories don't last. It's harsh but true. I lost my mother not too long ago and I'm already having trouble remembering little things about her."

I looked to Dad, who gave me a sad smile.

"But that's okay. What she left for me, and what Cooper left for us, is more important than that. Cooper taught me how to have fun. He made me laugh at things that most people wouldn't find funny. He taught me to take chances and not be afraid to fail. He taught me not to stress over details but to never accept second best. We visited Trouble Town more times than I can count, and I wouldn't have had it any other way. Does any of this sound familiar?"

There was a general murmur of agreement throughout

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the church. I looked to Sydney. She actually had a small smile on her face.

"I'm a better person for having known Cooper Foley, and that's something that won't change when memories fade. I'm going to make sure of it."

I looked up toward the ceiling and called out, "And Coop, wherever you are, I'll bet you're listening to all this and thinking you're something special after hearing all the nice things these people have said about you. Right? I don't blame you. And I want to say one more thing. I owe you."

I meant that in more ways than anybody in that church could understand. I'm sure they thought it was a nice, sentimental touch. What they didn't know was that I was actually talking to Cooper. For real. I was absolutely sure of that. When I sat back down next to Sydney, she grabbed my hand.

"We both owe him," she whispered. She understood.

The service ended shortly after and it was a crush to get out of the church. It was time to go to the cemetery, and the Foleys asked Dad and me to sit with them at the final service there. It was an honor we gladly accepted. Dad ducked out the side door of the church to get the car, but I went with the flow toward the front doors. I stepped out into the sun, where most everyone from the service was gathered in the front courtyard, talking and saying good-byes. Everyone but Ennis, that is. I looked everywhere, but he wasn't around. It was so odd. Dad and I had to be the only two people there he knew. Why wouldn't he stick around to talk with us? I figured I'd ask him about it eventually. I couldn't hang out any longer. I had to join Cooper on his final journey. At least in this life.

Cooper was headed for the same cemetery where we had buried Mom. I hated the place and not just for the obvious reason. It was old. Like Revolutionary War--old. There were