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ant bell。 Catotonia。
The thought scared him so badly that he grabbed Trevor by the shoulders and shook him hard。 Trevor's head rolled bonelessly on his neck。 A silvery thread of saliva leaked from one corner of his mouth。 There was nothing in his eyes； nothing in his face。
Zach clawed at his own face； bit his fingers viciously； sobbed in frustration and dread。 Why had he ever thought it was a good idea to feed Trevor mushrooms？ Why had he thought either of them could handle such a heavy…duty mindfuck within these cursed； malicious walls？
Suddenly he remembered what Trevor had said right before passing out。 I have to get there。 Had Trevor used the shock of orgasm to detach himself from his body somehow？ Was his spirit careening around the house； unable to municate with Zach； unable to get back in？
Or； worse； was Trevor no longer here at all？ What if he went crashing into the spirit world； demanding his explanation for being alive； and Bobby decided to keep him there？ What if Bobby just wanted to finish the job he'd left undone before？ Embodied or not； Trevor was still tripping his ass off； and that made him more vulnerable than he already was。 If Trevor had gone somewhere else； Zach knew he had to follow。
But how in hell was Zach supposed to leave his body？ He was used to having orgasms； no matter how intense they were； his spirit did not separate from his flesh； did not extrude on some umbilical thread of ectoplasm； did not detach。 He had never thought about how solidly mired in his body he was until now； when he wanted to get out of it。
He concentrated furiously； tried to project himself into Trevor's brain。 He'd gotten in once； but it seemed the password had been changed。 Zach tried to imagine what the new one might be； tried to feel around the edges of Trevor's blown consciousness。 He forced himself to go limp； surrender to the drug； think about anything but projecting。 He tore at his hair and his scalp； trying to rip his own ghost out of his skull。 None of it worked。 Zach collapsed back on the mattress； hugged Trevor and sobbed into his chest。 A thin sheen of sweat had e up on Trevor's skin。 It rippled with opalescent colors and smelled faintly of coffee。
Coffee 。 。 。
Zach had a dangerous idea。
He tested Trevor's heartbeat again。 It remained even and strong。 He kissed Trevor's cheek； spoke into his ear。 〃I love you； Trev。 I'm ing to get you。 Just try not to go too far in。〃
He pushed himself up； nearly passed out himself as the blood rushed to his head； tried to let it happen but recovered。 He crossed the bedroom and edged into the hall； refused to look toward the bathroom or at the doorway into the living room； would not glance over his shoulder as he entered the kitchen。 He had never felt so unsafe in this house。
Zach opened the refrigerator； squinted into the dazzling light； took out the bag of coffee Trevor had bought。 He carried it over to the coffee maker from Potter's Store and shook a generous amount into the filter basket； then ran tapwater into the pot and poured it through。 A few seconds later the machine began to bubble and a dark； rich scent filled the kitchen。 The odor nauseated him： he knew what he was probably going to have to do。
Zach couldn't wait for the pot to fill。 As soon as a cupful had collected； he yanked it out and splashed it into a mug。 The stream of brewing coffee sizzled against the hotplate。 Zach's nerves twitched in sympathy。 He thrust the pot back in； flipped the switch off； grabbed the steaming mug； and hurried back to the bedroom。
〃Trev？ Want some joe？ C'mon 。 。 。〃 He slid a hand behind Trevor's neck and propped his head up； wafted the mug back and forth under Trevor's nose without much hope。 As he had feared； Trevor made no response。 He was gone； all right。
Zach looked into the mug。 The black surface of the coffee shimmered； as full of subtle sinister colors as an oil slick。 To Zach it looked like the surface of death。 His heart twinged； and Zach apologized to it in advance for what he was about to do。
He took a deep breath and blew on the demon joe； the drug that bore his father's name。 He said a prayer to his various gods； steadied his hand。
Then he raised the mug to his lips and drank the bitter brew straight down。
Chapter Twenty One
Trevor felt himself rising through the syrupy air of the room； through the ceiling and the roof； out into the night。 The sky arched above him like a great black bowl pricked with diamonds。 He saw the kudzu swarming over the roof； the sturdy little car parked behind the house； the willow tree in the yard where he and Zach had talked that first day； fronds wavering in the terrible razor…edged moonlight。 He was rising and rising。 He could see the streets of Missing Mile in the distance； dark and still。 The house was far below him now； a toy rectangle he could almost forget。
This isn't where I'm supposed to be； he realized。 Got to get back to Birdland 。 。 。
All at once it was like a film being run in reverse and speeded up； he was falling in a dizzy spiral back toward the roof； through the sucking vines； back through the ceiling and into the rooms and melting down the walls and crackling through the power lines and dripping from the faucets and disappearing down the drains； into the broken fragments of the mirror 。 。 。
He was there。
The thought filled him with a cold excitement that was almost fear。 Whatever； wherever Birdland was； he was there now。
The sensations of his body returned。 He opened his eyes and found himself standing on a street corner in a city he could not name。 It was like a posite of every city he had ever been in； the run…down sections and shady neighborhoods： ashen buildings squirming with illegible graffiti； broken and boarded windows； ragged posters stapled to telephone poles； peeling from brick walls。 The few splashes of color in the landscape seemed somehow wrong。
The sidewalk and the street were empty。 Though the slice of sky above him was an unhealthy purplish color that reflected back the city's light and masked any moon or stars； it seemed very late at night。 Trevor saw no signs of life in the buildings around him； heard no traffic； no voices。
But the place did not feel threatening。 He thought he recognized it； and he was sure it recognized him。 Trevor chose a direction at random and started walking。 He thought he heard the wail of a saxophone in the distance； though it kept fading in and out until he couldn't be sure it was there at all。
He passed the dark maw of a parking garage with a length of chicken wire stretched across it； a stretch of vacant lot seeded with broken bottles； a row of pawnshops； laundromats； storefront churches of Holy Light； all closed。 Everything had a stark； slick； pressed look； more than two dimensions but not quite three。 The buildings were solid enough； he could feel the sidewalk under his feet； the cool night air blowing his hair back from his face； the bones in his fingers moving as he stuck his hands in his pocketsPockets？ He had been lying naked in bed with Zach。 Trevor looked down at himself and saw that he was wearing a black pinstriped suit jacket with wide