“But you didn’t,” Hugo said.
“I didn’t,” the boy agreed. “Because there is an order to things. A plan, one that goes far above your pay grade. You would do well to remember that. I’m not sure I like your tone.” He pouted, his bottom lip sticking out. “It’s not very nice.”
“What is that plan?” Wallace asked.
The boy looked to him again. “Pardon me?”
“The plan,” Wallace said. “What is it?”
“Something far beyond your capability to comprehend. It’s—”
“Right,” Wallace said. “What’s on the other side of the door?”
It was subtle, there and gone in a flash, but Wallace saw the bewildered expression before it disappeared. “Why, everything, of course.”
“Specifics. Tell me one thing besides what we already know.”
His bottom lip stuck out farther. “Oh, Wallace. There’s nothing for you to fear. I’ve told you that. You will find—”
“Yeah, see, I don’t think you know,” Wallace said. He leaned forward as Mei sucked in a breath, as Nelson tapped his cane on the floor. “I think you want to. You try to emulate us. You try to make us think you understand, but how could you? You don’t have our humanity. You don’t know what it’s like to have a beating heart, to feel it crack. You don’t know what it means to be happy, what it means to grieve. Maybe some part of you is jealous of all the things we are that you can never be, and though you may not believe me, I wish that for you more than you know. Because I know there’s something on the other side of that door. I’ve felt it. I’ve heard the whispers. I’ve heard the songs it sings. I’ve seen the light that spills from it. Can you even begin to imagine what that’s like?”
“Careful, Wallace,” the Manager said, pout melting away into steel. “Remember who you’re talking to.”
“He knows,” Hugo said quietly. “We all do.”
The Manager frowned as he glanced at Hugo. “Do you? I should hope so.”
“What are the Husks?” Wallace paused, thinking as hard as he ever had. “A manifestation of a fear-based life?” That seemed like the right direction, but he couldn’t quite get the picture to come into focus. “They … what? Are more susceptible to…”
“Fear-based life,” the Manager repeated slowly. “That’s … huh.” He squinted at Wallace. “Figured that out on your own, did you? Good for you. Yes, Wallace. Those who lived in fear and despair are more … how did you put it? Susceptible. All they know is dread, and it follows them across. Though it doesn’t affect them all the same way, people like Cameron sometimes can’t accept their new reality. They run from it and … well. You know what happens next.”
“How many of them are there?” Hugo asked.
The Manager reared back. “What?”
Hugo stared at the Manager, barely blinking. “People like Cameron. People who’ve been brought to the ferrypeople all over the world and lost their way. How many of them are there?”
“I don’t see what that has to do with—”
“It’s the entire point!” Wallace exclaimed. “It’s not about any one person. It’s about all of us, and what we do for one another. The door doesn’t discriminate. It’s there for everyone who is brave enough to look up at it. Some people lose their way, but that’s not their fault. They’re scared. My god, of course they are. How could they not be? Everyone loses their way at some point, and it’s not just because of their mistakes or the decisions they make. It’s because they’re horribly, wonderfully human. And the one thing I’ve learned about being human is that we can’t do this alone. When we’re lost, we need help to try to find our way again. We have a chance here to do something important, something never done before.”
“We,” the Manager said. “Don’t you mean they? Because, in case you forgot, you’re dead.”
“I know,” Wallace said. “I know.”
The boy frowned. “I told you once, Wallace. I don’t make deals. I don’t bargain. I thought we were past that.” He sighed heavily. “I’m so disappointed in you. I was very clear on the matter. And you talk about the Husks as if you know anything about them.”
“I’ve seen them,” Wallace said. “Up close. Cameron. I saw what he was, regardless of what he’d turned into.”
“One,” the Manager said. “You’ve seen one of them.”
“It’s enough,” Hugo said. “More than, even. Because if the rest of the Husks are anything like Cameron, then they deserve a chance, the same as we do.” He leaned forward, gaze never leaving the Manager. “I can do this. You know I can.” He looked around at the others at the table. “We can do this.”
The Manager was silent for a long moment. Wallace had to stop himself from fidgeting. He barely kept from shouting in relief when the Manager said, “You have my attention. Don’t waste it.”
Closing arguments, but it didn’t come from Wallace. It couldn’t. He looked to the one person who knew life and death better than anyone else in the tea shop. Hugo squared his shoulders, taking a deep breath and letting it out slow. “The Husks. Bring them here. Let us help them. They don’t deserve to stay as they are. They should be able to find their way home like everyone else.” He glanced at Wallace, who still held onto the table as tightly as he could. It was getting harder to do. His rear lifted from the chair a few inches, his knees pressed to the underside of the table, his feet off the floor. And if he listened hard enough, if he really tried, he could hear the whispers from the door once more. It was almost over.
The Manager stared at him. “Why would I agree to this?”
“Because you know we can do it,” Mei said. “Or, at the very least, we can try.”
“And because it’s the right thing to do,” Wallace said, and he’d never believed anything more. How simple. How terrifyingly profound. “The only reason the Husks chose as they did was out of fear of the unknown.”
The Manager nodded slowly. “Say I entertain this. Say, for a moment, that I consider your offer. What will you give me in return?”
And Wallace said, “I’ll let go.”
Hugo was alarmed. “Wallace, no, don’t—”
“How strange you are,” the Manager said. “You’ve changed. What caused it? Do you even know?”
Wallace laughed, wild and bright. “You, I think. Or at least you’re part of it, even if nothing you do makes any sense. But that’s par for the course with existing, because life is senseless, and on the off chance we find something that does make sense, we hold onto it as tightly as we can. I found myself because of you. But you pale in comparison to Mei. To Nelson. Apollo.” He swallowed thickly. “And Hugo.”
Hugo stood abruptly, chair tipping over and falling to the floor. “No,” he said harshly. “I won’t let you do this. I won’t—”