Free Ashes of Foreverland by Tony Bertauski Page A

to let the world balance beneath his feet. His elbows were bruised. Gramm suspected there were bruises on his buttocks and back as well, despite the specialized bed.
    The old man shuffled to the desk and drank a bottle of water without pause, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stared at Gramm. The queer coldness was in his head again, starting in the core of his brain where a patch of biomites had been seeded. The sensation crept out like frozen tendrils.
    Dr. Ballard sensed the worry. “What is it?”
    Gramm could barely feel his legs when he stood. He didn’t want to say it, not out loud. If he thought about it, concentrated on the image, the doctor would just know it as if it was his own thoughts. But the old man just returned from Patricia’s Foreverland; he was still adjusting to physical reality.
    Gramm would have to say it.
    â€œThe boy. We’ve lost him.”
    â€œDanny?”
    â€œHe...left the villa. Didn’t tell anyone.”
    â€œWhere did he go?”
    Gramm shook his head. That was all the old man needed to know. It was obvious now that he said it out loud. Hank’s badgering, the National Geographic , Alex researching Foreverland, and now Danny had disappeared.
    This is no coincidence.
    And there was no time for complications.
    The old man dropped the spoon and pushed the tray away. Melfy guided him into the hallway. Drake and Gramm followed them out to the yard, where the doctor would spend the next half an hour walking and thinking and returning to the world of flesh.
    He would decide how to address these changes.
    And fast.
SUMMER
    A snake sheds its skin.
    To be born again.
    â€“–––––––
    â€œW hat do you have to offer, Mr. Deer?”
    â€œCall me Jonathan.”
    Mr. Connick glanced at his notes and shook his head.
    He blinked, his eyes closing an extra beat, considering whether he should throw Jonathan out of the office, have him arrested. His name was a joke, but in a meeting like this, no one showed their true face.
    Jonathan reached into his jacket and revealed an index card sharply folded. The other sheet, the one with a list of names, would remain in his pocket for now.
    â€œYou can speak freely,” Mr. Connick said.
    The office was soundproof, tamperproof, completely isolated from eavesdropping. Still, Jonathan slid the card across the polished desk. They stared at the steepled note.
    Mr. Connick bounced his fingers, perhaps considering, once again, throwing him out. He leaned forward and read what was written on the inner portion of the fold.
    â€œThis is what you want. I asked what you have to offer.”
    â€œCan you deliver?”
    Mr. Connick tapped the rigid edge of the note on the desk, staring at Jonathan’s eyes. They were green for this meeting, and slightly narrow. He’d reshaped the bridge of his nose and extruded his brow. Only a few people in the world knew his true identity. But no one, no matter how much technological power they had, would be able to match Jonathan’s identity with facial recognition.
    Not even Mr. Connick.
    He got up and paced along the spacious window with a view down Chicago’s Adam Street. The lake was visible between the buildings. The note bounced between his fingers, his hands clasped behind his back.
    â€œAudacious, Mr. Deer.” His voice reverberated off the glass. “What could you possibly have to offer me for this? Money? Information? Power? I assure you, whatever it is, there is not enough to get what you’re asking. Nothing even close.”
    He flicked his wrist. The note skidded across the desk, landing on its side, open for Jonathan to see his own handwriting.
    â€œWhat could you possibly offer us?” Mr. Connick said.
    Jonathan leaned back. “Your very own universe,” he said. “Foreverland.”

11.  Danny Boy
    South Boston
    T he rental car was still running.
    Danny adjusted the vents. The sun had moved