“Welcome to Everlost,” she would tell the confused, and often frightened, children. “My name is Miss Mary, and you are among friends.” Then she would present each of them with a volume of Tips for Taps, her definitive book for new arrivals to Everlost—each book painstakingly handwritten by her children on paper scavenged from Pugsy’s troves. Grateful for her kindness, these new children would imprint on her like ducklings, ensuring their allegiance, while Pugsy became little more than a distant figure in their minds, a footnote in their world at best.

From Pugsy’s point of view, high atop his regal Ferris wheel, nothing had really changed. His subjects still feared him and obeyed his every whim. But now it was merely because Mary allowed it. Only when Mary made it clear that her ambitions stretched beyond Chicago, did he begin to worry about her intentions.

“Tell me what you know about the west,” she asked Pugsy one day. “Not what you’ve heard, but what you know.”

“There is no west,” he answered curtly. “Everlost ends at the Mississippi River.”

“Have you been there?”

“What’s it to you?”

“I just assumed that a leader of your stature would want to see it with his own eyes.”

Pugsy took the flattery at face value and said, “I did. Once. There’s a wind that blows from the other side. A crazy wind. I ordered a dozen Afterlights, one after the other, to cross the Centennial Bridge, but the wind wouldn’t let them, and each one of them sunk right through the bridge, into the river.”

The thought that he’d order so many Afterlights to their doom didn’t sit well with Mary, but she tried not to show it. “Perhaps if you found a bridge that had crossed into Everlost …”

“There are no Everlost bridges that cross the Mississippi, because there’s no Everlost there to cross into, so stop asking stupid questions.” He eyed her with suspicion, and Mary realized she had pushed too far.

“Perhaps my next book should be a collaboration,” Mary suggested. “I’m sure there are other things you know that I don’t.”

“And it’ll stay that way,” said Pugsy, closing the door to further conversation. But, as they say, when God closes a door he opens a window, and in Mary’s mind, it was a window facing west.