Black Bird of the Gallows(84)

My brows knit. “Are you worried?”

“About myself? Never,” he says matter-of-factly. “My whole life is a worst-case scenario. Honestly, I’d welcome an opportunity to die—really die.”

The Bus falls quiet once again. No one knows quite how to respond to that. Not when the rest of us are desperate for a way to live.

“Okay, so I think we need to form a plan,” Lacey says. “I don’t think Deno should stay here, considering his…what happened to him.”

She was going to say “condition.” It was right there on her tongue. It’s still hanging in the air, as dark and sharp-edged as the death sentence Reece thinks it is. I’m just not as ready, or maybe as hardened, as he is. “What do you think we should do?” I ask her.

“I think we should split up.” Her words are quick and defensive, like she expects an argument.

No one says a word. There’s only the quiet crunching of potato chips and pretzels.

Lacey clears her throat. “The Bus is so visible now, the Beekeeper will instantly recognize it. Earlier, when Reece and I were watching the mine entrance, we noticed that only Rafette was there. The others had left. And for whatever reason, Rafette left frequently—like once an hour he’d go somewhere.”

“It’s hard work to stay in human form after a crisis is over,” Reece puts in. “I imagine he’s returning to a place where there’s still fear and chaos so he can feed off it. The rescue site, is most likely.”

“Right,” Lacey says. “So there are times when the entrance is empty—only breaks, but we can use them. If Deno and I were to take the Bus, we could lead him away from here. He’d probably figure it out that he’s following the wrong kids pretty quickly, but you two would have a chance to split. You’d be on foot, but it’s better than staying in here, in case he decides to wait it out.”

Silence again.

I don’t want to split up. My body reacts at the mere thought of not knowing what was happening to them. “Where would you go?” I ask.

“The school,” she says. “That’s where the rescue operation base is. We could try to meet up there. There will be people there. Real people.” She makes a little noise. “No offense, Reece.”

“None taken,” he replies.

“That sounds dangerous,” I say. “The valley is flooded. And most of the roads are blocked. Where do you expect to drive?”

“As far as we can,” she says. “We’re not the ones that Rafette guy wants. We’d be safer on our own.”

Safer is not safe. “You can’t drive the Bus. The gearshift is—”

“Sticky, I know.” Lacey sighs. “Angie, my Dad’s truck is a stick shift. Every old car has a funky gearshift. I can drive it, if you’ll let me. If it’s the Bus you’re worried about—”

“I don’t care about the Bus,” I burst out, cutting her off this time. “I’ve spent enough time worrying over this vehicle. I care about you and Deno and not going to your funerals.”

“No one wants to die, Angie.” Deno clears his throat. “Well, most of us don’t. I agree with Lacey. We should split up. First thing in the morning, when we have light, we’ll make for the school. I’ll find myself a padded cell before this stuff in my veins really kicks in.” He says it like a joke, but no one laughs. “Right. So you two find someplace else to hide, or find another route out of here.” Deno shifts around. The sound is restless, jerky. He inhales, sharply. “It’s hard to…keep my head together in here. I’m starting to feel…well, I can’t stay closed up like this. I can’t stay here, Angie.”

Reece shifts, then I hear the sound of long fingers dipping inside the pretzel bag and withdrawing with a handful. He’s been quiet for a while. His breath brushes my neck, shivering along my skin as he says, “Neither can we.”





37-through the low valley


Deno and Lacey’s exit is the exact opposite of our entrance. Reece and I watch them ease out of the mine, just as the dawn’s pale rays put color back in the sky. No clouds today, just the watery blue of morning. And no bees, as far as I can see.

“Maybe Rafette knows we aren’t in the Bus,” I say.

We’re standing only ten feet back from the entrance. Not far.

Reece doesn’t answer. He’s listening, head cocked. “Rafette isn’t here,” he says at last.

“You can tell?”

He nods. “I don’t smell him.”

Sure enough, there’s one distant caw, though not from any self-respecting crow—it’s Deno’s butchered interpretation—and we let out twin breaths. Of relief and anxiety. As we planned before Deno and Lacey departed, one caw meant no sign of bees. Two caws meant our enemies were out there, waiting to ambush, and we should stay where we are.

One caw means it’s time to run.

“The other Beekeepers are moving on,” he says. “They’re limited by how long they can stay away from their energy source. They helped Rafette, probably out of curiosity, but they won’t deplete themselves for his mission.” He holds out his hand with a crooked smile. “Ready to hike?”

I roll the sleep from my shoulders and take his hand. “No, but let’s go.”