Devils Unto Dust(83)

Ben smiles at me, that rare lopsided smile of his. It makes my stomach turn over, but not in an unpleasant way. His smile’s gone as quickly as it came, but I think I can still see a ghost of it hidden in the corner of his mouth.





66.


I sleep for a spell, a restless, impatient sleep. I wake up often, catching scraps of conversation and mumbled curses when the litter jostles. I throw one arm over my face to block the glare of the sun but it worms its way in, hanging over the edge of the litter like a pink ribbon. When the litter comes to a full stop, I wake up sticky and drowsy, my mouth tasting sour. The boys lower me carefully, and I clamber out like a newborn calf, groggy and disoriented.

“Where are we?” I ask.

“Maybe a third of the way,” Curtis answers. He hands me a canteen, and I drink away the taste in my mouth.

“I can walk for a bit,” I say, wiping water off my chin. It’s half question, half statement, and I raise my eyebrows in Sam’s direction.

“If you feel up to it,” he says.

“I do.”

I reach my arms over my head, stretching out the last bits of sleep. Ben passes around apples, and I take my time eating one, enjoying the crunch and chew of it. I gnaw on the core while we start moving again, sucking at the last bits like a dog with a bone. I toss the remains far into the desert, watching for the cloud of dust when it lands.

Riding in the litter seems to have calmed my nerves some. Well, that, and getting back at Grady. I flex my calves, and they’re sore but steady. The sun is hot on my neck and shoulders, soothing my achy muscles while sweat collects under my hair. I desperately need to bathe again, my shirt is stiff with fever sweat and dirt and I feel like I’ll never get all the grit out from under my nails. When I get home, the first thing I’m doing is washing myself, and then these clothes. After I deal with McAllister and get the twins, of course. And after I tell them about Micah, and Pa. I don’t know how much of the rest I should say.

“Sam?” I get his attention.

“Do you need to stop?”

“No, I’m fine. I’m wondering—are you sure it’s safe for me to be around the twins? The sickness won’t come back?”

Sam shakes his head. “I told you, once the fever’s gone, you’re not contagious. I wouldn’t let you hurt anyone, Will.”

I nod, chewing on my lip. “What are you going to tell your father? About what happened?”

Sam frowns, rubbing a finger under one eye. “I don’t know. Some of it, I guess.”

“About me getting sick?” I suppose I shouldn’t mind if Doc Kincaid knows, but for some reason it feels private. “And what about you two?” I add, glancing at Ben and Curtis.

The boys exchange glances, and I can tell they’ve talked about this already. I’m slightly annoyed; when were they planning on including me?

“Willie, we’re not going to tell anyone,” Curtis says. “Nor should you.”

“It’s not something you want people knowing,” Ben adds.

I scratch the scab on my hand, feeling irritated. “You’re saying that like I did something wrong.”

“Folks won’t trust you,” Curtis says bluntly. “No one’s survived before, and they won’t understand. They’ll want to know why you.”

“Why me, why not their husband or wife or child,” I finish for him. It’s the same thought I had, why me and not my mother. Why not Micah, who was so much better than me. I can understand their imaginary anger well enough.

“Right,” Sam says. “And it ain’t only about you, Willie. We’re in it just as much. If the Judge finds out—well, he’s gonna want to know how, and I don’t know the how. And he won’t take ‘I don’t know’ for an answer.”

“And we didn’t exactly follow the rules on this one,” Ben says. “If the other hunters find out we brought the sickness inside the station, we’re done for.”

I look at the three of them, pained at how much they risked for me, how many times they’ve spared me; I did nothing to deserve it.

“We’ll figure this out together, Will,” Sam says. “Figure out what happened, and if—if we can make it happen again.”

“You think there’s a chance?” I ask, my breath catching.

“I don’t know. If you’d asked me a week ago, I’d say you’d lost your mind. Now . . .” Sam shrugs. “Everything’s different.”

“One thing at a time,” Curtis says. “Till we have answers, safest thing is to keep quiet.”

“I don’t want to cause you any more trouble than I already have,” I tell him. “No one will hear about it from me, I promise.”

I make another, silent promise to myself: no matter how long it takes, somehow, I will pay back what I owe these boys.





67.


I walk for as long as I can, and next time I don’t argue when Sam tells me to stop. I get back in the litter and stare at the horizon without really seeing it. My mind is stuffed with too many questions and not enough answers. I don’t know how to tell the twins about Micah; hell, I don’t even know if they’ll still be at Bess’s. They thought we’d be home days ago and if Calvin gets anxious he’s likely to run off back home. I hate to think what they’re doing to the house unsupervised.