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her back from dying me. Even on this day. Even after I destroyed her Will, she fought to reach me. The intruder interrupted my thoughts.
    â€œGet in, child.”

CHAPTER 4
    THE THOUGHTS OF C. RAINE
    Death, where is thy sting?
    The Apostle Paul
    I SAW THE MATRIX. Remember the traitor scene when Morpheus gets captured? That black cat walked by Neo, twitched back, and then walked by again. Same cat. A glitch in the program. A blip in the Matrix. In the next scene, people started hitting the floor.
    An unpredictable woman in Lifeless’s predictable dream provided me with many very good reasons to stay out of the ambulance. The intruder was a glitch in the program. A blip in Lifeless’s matrix. Nonetheless, I obeyed her, climbed in, and shut the door behind me.
    Addy, here I address only you. Do you remember Grandpa’s smell? That combination of old person and Old Spice? It surrounded him, filled his house, and sent a message: relax, you’re with me. That scent filled this cab. It felt like home.
    I rubbed my thighs hard. Yeah, out of habit, but more for the feel of denim, which satisfied more deeply than ten minutes of popping bubble wrap. My hands didn’t stop there, but slid down onto cool leather, where famished nerves ate up the feel of the smooth seat. As I said before, sensation was light and air.
    The lady didn’t speak or glance my way. I did both, and salivated. She looked exactly like the woman who formed the Mrs. Butterworth syrup bottle. She was brown and content and ready to spill goodness all over your plate. That grandpa smell vanished, and the scent of pancakes swelled. Go figure.
    A question wormed inside my head.
    â€œI’m dead. Lifeless is dead. This is the end. Right?”
    Her lips tightened, and she set her hands in her lap. “S’pose that doctor of yours is tellin’ your mom it may be up to interpretation.” She turned her head and focused on my hands, rubbing as they were. “Truth is, no. You’ve never been more alive.”
    â€œI’m in a dream.”
    â€œTrue, but dreams is just life underestimated.” She nodded. “You did enter this dream the usual. The bigger question is how’d you like to leave it.”
    I said nothing, and she broke into a wide smile. “My name’s Sadie, honey. I want to help.”
    This yanked out a chuckle from way down deep. The scoff rubbed shoulders with a laugh and drifted out, filled with more sarcasm than I thought possible to own. I turned away, nodded out the window. “Based on the motionless girl, it’s a little late for that.”
    In front of us, reporters scurried back and forth, dragging their cameramen like heavily laden asses, trying to get the best shot of the reporters’ smiling faces and my bleeding one. The police shoved them aside, and went back to work with their yellow tape.
    â€œShe ends up a stupid vegetable, which, after you set up some serious life support, is not a very high-maintenance condition. Believe me. You can’t help.” I exhaled hard. “I do appreciate it, though. So now do I get to know how you snuck into—”
    â€œLady! Inside the vehicle. Open up.” A policeman rapped on Sadie’s door, and I jumped.
    Officer Dewey?
    Sadie winked at me and slowly lowered the window.
    â€¢Â â€¢Â â€¢
    Basil Dewey, simultaneously my best friend and worst enemy, my most and my least, told precious few that his dad was a cop. “He works for the city of Minneapolis. Like a garbage man.” That’s what he’d say when pressed, but I knew the truth from the beginning.
    â€œIt would ruin my reputation.” Basil swung his legs from the catwalk beneath the Mississippi River Bridge. Suspended one hundred feet up and with cars whizzing over our heads, it was an awesome fifth-grade hangout. He stretched forward and dropped a stone. Far below, it clanked off a barge deck. “It’s kind of true. I mean, Dad