CHAPTER 11
Chocolate Reign
Nick, Nick, Nick, Nick.
The Chocolate Ogre knew very few things for sure.
Allie, Allie, Allie, Allie.
So the things he did know, he held onto with a passion.
Mikey, Mikey, Mikey, Mikey.
He found that being a spirit of limited self-awareness, while frustrating, was also very liberating. He felt a freedom he suspected he had never felt in his previous life. He had few expectations, and fewer fears, and whenever he felt anxious it passed quickly like a summer storm cloud, too small to give rain.
All in all, it was good being the Chocolate Ogre, although he didn’t feel much like an Ogre. Ogres have a bad temper, they ruin things, they chase people. Ogre was the wrong word. He felt more like a Chocolate Bunny. He told Mikey that, and Mikey instructed him never to say that again. “Bunnies are timid and fearful, and stupid,” Mikey had said. “You’re none of those things.”
“Yes, I am,” Nick had insisted. “I’m stupid!”
“No, you’re not,” Mikey had told him. “You’re just not yourself. That doesn’t make you stupid, it just makes you . . . muddled.”
It only served to confuse him, because if he wasn’t himself, then who was he?
Nick, Nick, Nick, Nick.
He ran from the cage and the farmhouse and the crazy scarred man, happily reciting the three things he knew that he knew. He kept to the train tracks as Mikey had said. They were easy to follow because the tracks had crossed into Everlost.
Allie, Allie, Allie, Allie.
He was content to live in the moment, but he sensed a certain sadness deep within himself. A longing for all the things he had once been, whatever those things were. He knew he had once been very clever. He had led hundreds of Afterlights, and, in fact the train he was following had once belonged to him. Mikey had said so.
Mikey, Mikey, Mikey, Mikey.
While he couldn’t grasp the memory of these things, he knew that who he had once been, was not gone completely. The memories were still out there, divided among the people he knew and loved. Seeing Mikey had brought some of those memories back to him.
Allie, Allie, Allie, Allie.
And seeing Allie would bring back even more. Only in gathering those memories, could he gather back all the pieces of the boy called Nick.
Mary, Mary, Mary, Mary.
The name stopped him in mid-stride. It had come out of nowhere—and he knew that nowhere often spat forth some very important things. A feeling came over him then, warm enough to melt him inside, but cold enough to harden him solid. It was joy poured hot into chilly foreboding. The feelings blended until he couldn’t tell one from another—and when he looked at his hands, he could, for the first time, see something resembling fingernails.
Nick, Mary, Nick, Mary, Nick, Mary.
He felt a fluttering inside his chest that he mistook for an air pocket—probably left from when he pushed himself through the cage. He had no way of knowing that the fluttering was a single beat from the fleeting memory of a heart.