“I’ll explain it later. If I can work it out.” Alex sat still gazing fixedly at the empty spot. The memories of what had happened in the strange, pale place were still vibrating in his head. But even as he thought about it, he realized, the images were fading, slipping away from him. He tried to hold it all in his mind before it vanished.

“Is that it?” he said.

“Hmm?”

“Is that what’s coming? At the end? When we die. The things we saw through there, through the gate. Is that where we go?”

“Oh.” The old man pulled a wrinkled paper bag from a pocket. He fished out a candy, popped it in his mouth, then held the bag toward Alex.

“Lemon drops. Exactly what’s needed. Ah, to answer your question, Alex: I don’t think so. It’s just another theory, but I think that . . . that”—he wiggled his fingers at the wreckage around them, searching for words—“that place, where we were, that should never have been opened, and we should never have been in there. Think of it like a wound being opened in a body, and us as bacteria getting in. An infection. The . . . things were like . . . what’s the word . . . antibodies produced by the body’s immune system, coming to get rid of us. Get it?”

“No.” Alex rubbed his head. “Sort of. Not really. Grandad . . . what do you think does happen, then?”

“Oh, no idea,” the old man said, dusting sadly at the dirt coating his clothes. “That’s the whole fun of it, don’t you think? Not knowing? I suspect it’ll be calmer, though. But let’s ask an expert. Any thoughts, Harry?”

“Oh,” Harry said. “Well, yeah, I mean, it didn’t seem to do me any ’arm. I don’t remember much about it, Alex. Eh . . . but I do know it smells like coconut.”

“There you go.” Alex’s grandfather smiled. “I’ve never yet encountered anything bad that smells of coconut. Could you help me stand?”

Alex and Harry got his grandfather to his feet. The old man took a second to steady himself, then brushed off their support and walked slowly toward his father and sister, leaning on his stick.

Zia sat with the tall man’s head in her lap. The ugly flower drooped in its pot beside them. From what Alex could see, the man’s face was entirely burned and ruined once more. Zia had placed a red silk handkerchief over him, like the mask a bank robber would wear in an old western movie. Above it, the staring eyes fell in and out of focus.

Moving stiffly and with difficulty, Alex’s grandfather lowered himself to one knee.

“How bad is it?”

“Body’s done now,” Zia answered without looking at him.

The tall man lifted a hand in a faint, beckoning gesture. Alex’s grandfather bowed lower.