What she didn't know was that taking a bit of eternity in her hand would give her a very special power.

Like most Afterlights, the details of her life on earth became hazy, but she did remember the war. For more than a hundred and fifty years she served her part. Collecting weapons gave her a sense of purpose--and woe be to any Afterlight who tried to tell her the war was over--for then what purpose would her existence serve? In spite of her uniform, she never forgot that she was a girl, for she never had a desire to be a boy, only to be treated as one. She still cursed the fact that the hat would not come off and that her hair would not grow--and she hated that they called her "Zach the Ripper." Like the uniform, however, it served a purpose for her, so she lived with it.

That is, until the day the Chocolate Ogre came and stripped everything away.

Zinnia fell to her knees in mourning. There was nothing left, nothing at all. All those years of collecting, and now what was there for her? Kudzu nuzzled up to her, trying to comfort her, but she would not be comforted.

"You've ruined everything... ." She would have reached into the fudge-faced kid right then, and ripped him good, if she thought she'd get anything more than chocolate.

Nick chose to keep his distance. He knew any chance for an easy alliance with the Ripper was gone ... but that didn't mean there couldn't be a reluctant alliance, if he played this right. "Come on," he said to Johnnie-O, loudly enough for the Ripper to hear. "We came here for nothing. She couldn't be any use in the war."

"That's right," snapped the Ripper. "Get lost!"

Nick turned to go then did a little mental countdown. One ... two ... three ...

"What war?" asked the Ripper.

Nick grinned--it was like waiting for thunder after lightning. He turned back to her and looked her over, shaking his head. "Not the one you're fighting."

The Ripper looked away, her face betraying an odd mixture of shame and fury. There was a definite sense of craziness in her, but perhaps that could be dealt with. Perhaps it could be refined and directed.

Johnnie-O pulled Nick aside, and spoke to him quietly. "I got this really bad feeling about her," Johnnie-O whispered.

"That's just because she ripped you."

"What if she does it again?"

"I'll make sure she won't."

All the while, Zin kept watching them, trying to hear what they were whispering about.

Nick went back over to her. "After careful consideration," Nick said, "we've decided you're army material."

She looked at Nick warily. "What's my rank?"

"Private first class, in charge of tactical field operations." Nick had made it up on the spot, of course, but it sounded sufficiently impressive to make her consider it.

"Do I get to rip weapons?"

"You'll rip what your superior officers tell you to rip, or you can go back up in that spaceship and launch yourself into orbit for all I care."

The Ripper scowled at him, but her scowl faded. She turned and looked up at the shuttle. "I tried that once, but it didn't work," she said. "I think they launch it from somewhere else. Someplace that ain't in Everlost yet."

She considered the massive ship for a moment more, then turned back to Nick. "So do I gots to call you 'sir'?"

"Yes," Nick said, figuring it might help keep her in line. "As I am your general, you will address me as sir. This is Mr. Johnnie-O. He's a sir too."

"I'm Zinnia," said the Ripper, "but people call me Zin."

Johnnie-O folded his arms. "I won't shake her hand."

Zin curled her lip in disgust. "I wouldn't shake your hand anyway. Your hands are ugly."

In response Johnnie-O made two even uglier fists.

Nick got between them before it could escalate. "Your first order is to rip something for us."

"She already did rip something," said Johnnie-O. Disgusted, he put his hand to his head, maybe to make sure that his brain was still there.

"I mean something from the living world," Nick said.

Zin chuckled. "I thought you'd ask me to do sumpin' hard."

She looked around, then saw a tattered tissue tumbling in the living-world wind. Casually she reached out with her right hand. With a faint shimmering of light, her hand poked a hole into the living world, she grabbed the tissue in midair, and pulled it back through the hole into Everlost. The portal into the living world closed almost instantly. "Whoa," said Johnnie-O. "Abra-freaking-cadabra!"

She handed the tissue to Nick. "There," she said. "Maybe you can use it to wipe off all that chocolate ailing your face." Then she added, "Sir."

Nick looked at the tissue in his hand, thinking it would take a lot more than a tattered Kleenex to get rid of his particular skin condition. "I'm impressed."

"So you gonna tell me about your war?"

Nick considered how to answer her. "What do you know about Mary, the Sky Witch?"

Zin looked at Nick, then to Johnnie-O, then back to Nick again. "Who?" She looked to Kudzu, as if the dog might know the answer, but Kudzu just wagged his tail.

Nick sighed, pretending to be exasperated, but in truth he was relieved that she had never heard of Mary. It would make educating Zin the Ripper easier.

"Let's go," Nick said. "I'll tell you all about Mary on the way."

Just then, Johnnie-O finally touched his lip and said, "Hey, where's my Camel? What happened to my Camel?"

"What's he talkin' about? I don't see no stinkin' camel."

"My cig, you half-wit tomboy freak!"

Nick ignored their bickering, turning to take one last look at the Challenger. Without the rickety scaffold, there was nothing at all to mask the bald-faced fact that the shuttle was fixed in midair, resting on the invisible memory of its launchpad. Memory in Everlost was a far greater force than gravity. It could hold a thousand-ton spacecraft in the air, and could slowly turn a kid to chocolate.

"What'll I do without my Camel?" whined Johnnie-O. "Maybe Zin can rip you a nicotine patch," said Nick. He had already begun to consider quite a few other things Zin might do with her powers as well--but they were things he wasn't ready to share with anyone--at least not yet.

"I wouldn't rip you the time of day," Zin said to Johnnie-O, and added "sir," as snidely as she could.

"Prob'ly because you can't tell time," Johnnie-O spat back.

Nick tried to keep his laughter to himself. Clearly Johnnie-O and Zin were a match made in heaven, so he let them squawk freely at each another as they set off, leaving behind the great spacecraft that stood in patient anticipation, forever pointing toward the stars.

PART TWO

Dancing with the Deadlie

In her book Everything Mary Says Is Wrong, Allie the Outcast has this to say about the criminal arts:

"Skinjacking, and ecto-ripping, along with all the other so-called 'criminal arts,' are not criminal at all when in the hands of someone with a brain and a conscience. Calling them criminal arts is just one more way Mary Hightower puts a negative spin on things beyond her control."

CHAPTER 8 Treasures of the Flesh

The living world was habit-forming to a skinjacker. There was no question about that. Allie tried to limit her skinjacking to the times she absolutely had to, but she only had so much self-control. The pull of the living world was hard to resist, and got harder each time she jumped into a fleshie.