I stopped, confronting more memories.
“When we were about sixteen, we came out here on a summer afternoon,” I said. “We saw a little kid flailing in the water. His mother was distracted because her youngest was crying. The two of us plunged in and saved him. Did that happen here, too?”
“Yes, it did.”
“His mom bought both of us new bikes.”
“I remember.”
“I always felt good about what we did. The strange thing is, now I know there’s also a world out there where we didn’t save him. We failed, and he died.”
Roscoe put a hand on my shoulder. “I prefer to look at how hard God worked to put us on that beach at the exact moment when the boy was drowning. We almost missed the bus going down here — do you remember that? We were complaining because we were going to have to wait another twenty minutes for the next one. But as it turned out, the bus we wanted was running late. So we made it. If that hadn’t happened, we wouldn’t have been here to save that child.”
“Yes, but there’s also a world where we missed the bus,” I protested. “So what’s the point? There’s no meaning to any of it. There’s no plan.”
“Not at all. It simply means in a different world, there’s a different plan.”
A sad smile creased my face. “I’ve always envied the strength of your beliefs, Roscoe. I wish I shared them. If there’s been one good thing about being here, it’s seeing you again. I’m going to miss you.”
“Are you saying you have to go?”
“You were right all along. I don’t belong here.”
“Will you follow this other Dylan again? And stop him this time?”
“No, it’s time for me to go back to where I came from and face what I left behind. That’s what you said I should do, isn’t it? Say the word and go home. I was a fool to think I could change the world.”
Roscoe squatted in the sand and let it run through his fingers. Then he spoke to me softly. “Actually, I’ve changed my mind about that.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t think you’re ready to go home, Dylan. That’s not who you are. If you believe in what you’re doing, the worst thing you can do is give up. The fact that you failed doesn’t mean that you should quit. The friend I’ve known my whole life would never give up.”
“You really think I should try again? After everything that happened here? What if I make it worse wherever I go next?”
He shrugged and looked up at me. “What if you make it better?”
“I appreciate the vote of confidence, Roscoe, but even if you’re right, it’s a moot point. The only thing I can do is go back home. I have no way to go anywhere else. I can’t chase him, even if I wanted to.”
“Why not?”
“I have no way back into the portal without Eve Brier.”
He flinched at the sound of the name. “Eve Brier?”
“She’s the therapist who sent me here. The idea of trying to bridge the Many Worlds was her idea. But as far as I can tell, she doesn’t exist in this world. There’s no record of her anywhere.”
Roscoe dipped his hand in the cool water and shook his head. “God really does work hard to make things come together.”
“What do you mean?”
“I know her,” he replied.
“What?”
“Well, I don’t know if she’s your Eve Brier. She’s not a therapist, that’s for sure. But I do know an Eve Brier, and I’m not surprised you wouldn’t find any record of her online. She’s a drug addict. Homeless, has been for years. She comes into the parish sometimes when we’re preparing meals.”
“An addict?”
“Yes, she’s very smart, but she went off the rails a long time ago and never made it back. Actually, I think she was in medical school once upon a time. She got thrown out over theft of prescription drugs. It’s only gotten worse since then. She’s been hospitalized for overdoses multiple times.”
“That’s got to be her,” I told him. “How can I find her?”
“If she’s still alive, you’ll probably find her sheltered under the train tracks west of my church. That’s where she usually hangs out. But I wouldn’t count on her being able to help you, Dylan. Eve doesn’t live where the rest of us do. She spends most of her time in other worlds.”
Chapter 27
The streetlight near the railroad tracks had been shot out, leaving the tunnel ahead of me pitch black. I parked near a fence that guarded a vacant lot overgrown with weeds. Using my phone for light, I walked down the middle of the road. Spiderwebs of cracks ran through the pavement, and loose gravel crunched under my feet. Where the asphalt had chipped away completely, I saw layers of red cobblestone. Above me, dense trees leaned over the railway bridge. Retaining walls supported the overpass on both sides, and ribbons of ivy and green mold ran along the concrete.
Inside the tunnel, brown water dripped from the low ceiling. The I beams were connected by round archways, where the white paint had mostly flaked away. I wasn’t alone here. The night people were with me, and I was conscious of being watched by a dozen sets of eyes. The smell of weed hung in the air, thick enough to make my head spin. I saw a lineup of old blankets, sleeping bags, and pole tents crowded against the walls. The broken glass of a tequila bottle glinted in my light. A feral cat sniffed among the debris for food and rats. Someone near me talked to himself incessantly, stringing together random words that made no sense. I heard the splatter of someone urinating against the wall.
I stopped near a kid no older than twenty, who skipped rope with nervous energy in one of the archways. The snap of the rope echoed in the tunnel. I waited until he missed a step and then approached him. I dug out a ten-dollar bill from my wallet as an incentive.
“I’m looking for Eve Brier. Have you seen her around here?”
His jaw pumped as he chewed tobacco. I could smell it on his breath. He spun the jump rope in his hand like he was Will Rogers with a lariat. “Who wants to know?”
“I’m a friend of Roscoe’s. Roscoe Tate from the church.”
“Yeah, everybody knows Roscoe. What you want with Eve?”
“I need to talk to her.”
He snorted out a laugh. “Talk, huh? Lotta people like to talk to Eve. Best wear a sleeve when you talkin’.”
“I swear. Just talk. Do you know where she is?”
“Yeah, sure. Couple blocks up. Alley behind the cemetery. She takes her little rides up there.”
“Her rides?”
“That what she calls ’em. Seems like some crazy trips. When she goes away, she gone.”
I pushed the ten-dollar bill into his hand. He took off his baseball cap, put the cash on his head, and slapped the hat back on. Then he started skipping rope again.
On the other side of the overpass, most of the houses had barred windows. I passed a couple of late-night bars and some empty storefronts. Two blocks down, I found the cemetery, which was protected from grave robbers by concrete walls topped with barbed wire. A narrow alley ran adjacent to the cemetery wall, and I walked into the darkness, kicking garbage out of my way. In a small yard of mud and grass behind one of the buildings, I saw a woman slumped on a blanket.
I shined my light on her face.
It was Eve Brier, but this was a very different Eve than the one I knew. She wore a soiled gray sweatshirt and no pants, only frayed purple underwear. Her long legs were riddled with bruises. She had one sleeve pushed up, displaying the track marks of numerous injections. The long, elegant nails I remembered on her fingers were chewed down, her cuticles bitten and bloody. She lay on her side, her body wrapped in the blanket. Her almond-shaped eyes were closed. I didn’t know if this was sleep or unconsciousness. I knelt next to her and gently brushed the long hair from her face. She had no elegant highlights, just brown hair that matched the mud.