Ship of Souls

lose,” she croons.
    Suddenly alert, I snap my head back and stare at the enchanting bird. “What?”
    “No one to lose, I mean. I had to choose someone whose heart was free.”
    I want to object, to insist that I do have something—someone—to lose. But the bird is right. I like Mrs. Martin, and I appreciate her taking care of me and everything, but I’m not getting attached to her. And Mercy—well, even the visiting nurse said she can’t form a bond with anyone because of the chemicals in her system. Poor kid. She came into this world with her heart already broken.
    I let my head fall back onto the pillow. “So you picked me ’cause you thought I’d be more loyal?”
    “Precisely. You’re wise for your years, Dmitri.”
    “Call me D,” I say.
    “Why?”
    “No one calls me Dmitri.”
    “Someone did…once.”
    My face heats up, and for just a moment I find myself wanting to crush this nosy bird. How could it know that my mother used to call me Dmitri?
    “Great care was taken with your preparation,” she says.
    “Preparation?”
    “Your education.”
    “Oh, I get it. My mom homeschooled me. She didn’t trust the public schools, and we couldn’t afford a private one.”
    “You don’t belong at school.”
    “I don’t belong anywhere, really.”
    “Everyone belongs somewhere,” she says softly. “D?”
    “Yes?”
    “I am not what I appear to be.”
    “What do you mean?”
    Instead of answering, the bird moves closer to the edge of the bed and silently morphs into a glowing yellow sphere.
    I feel my tired eyes opening wide. “How’d you do that?”
    In a deep male voice, it replies, “I am made of energy, D. I can sense what is in your heart and mind. Once I know what pleases you, I can adapt to suit your preferences.”
    “Are you—I mean, are you, like, an alien?”
    “I must seem strange to you,” the sphere says in its female voice before settling back into bird form.
    “Uh—yeah! You’re amazing. So…are you from another planet?”
    “I am from…another realm.”
    “ Another realm . This is so cool! And you came here and chose me—why?”
    “You should rest, D.” She reaches out her wing, but I pull back from her feathery touch.
    “I’m not tired.”
    The bird doesn’t sigh, but she lowers her eyes and seems resigned. “The journey we must undertake will require all the strength you can muster.”
    “Where are we going—back to your realm?”
    “Yes. But first we must gather the dead.”
    “The dead!?” My heart begins to pound inside my chest. One second I am terrified, and the next I am filled with hope. Maybe this bird is an angel sent down from heaven! Mom must have sent her to get me, and now—
    “Long dead, D.” The bird looks at me, and there is kindness in her eyes along with an apology. “These souls have been waiting hundreds of years for me to return.”
    “You left them?” I say accusingly to hide my disappointment.
    “Yes—but not by choice.”
    “Someone made you leave them behind?” I ask with suspicion.
    “Yes. And those beings are out there still. They will hunt us, D.”
    The terror I felt a moment ago creeps back into my heart.
    “As long as you stay close to me, I can keep you safe,” she says reassuringly.
    This time I don’t pull away when the bird reaches out a protective silken wing. She drapes it across my cheek, and I feel myself falling asleep. “Why are they hunting you?”
    This time the bird really does sigh. “All the dead are not dead, D. Souls that have suffered do not always find peace. They are restless, impatient. And sometimes…hostile.”
    Rest in peace . That’s what the minister said at Mom’s funeral. And RIP is sprayed on all the murals painted to honor the memory of those shot down in the street. I have just enough strength to ask one last question. “Where do they go—the souls that can’t find peace?”
    The bird touches her feathers to my lips, and suddenly I can’t remember the question I just asked. I yawn and fall into a deep sleep.

7.
    T hat night I dream that I am trapped in my room during a flood. Dark, murky water bubbles up from the drain in the basement and rapidly rises through the house. But just as the oily water oozes under my door, a brilliant star lights up the night sky and forces the water back downstairs and into the drain. I wake with a breathless gasp, but the bird brushes my face with her satiny feathers, and I immediately go back to sleep.
    The next morning, Mrs.