The Kill Society (Sandman Slim)(39)

“What’s wrong with Billy?”

“Poor dear. He took one in the belly.”

“He going to be all right?”

She shakes her head and helps me turn to see what a fucking disaster we are.

“Maybe,” she says. “The Magistrate isn’t sure.”

“Who else?”

She sighs.

“Lerajie and Babetta are gone.”

“How’s Barbora taking it?”

“Not so good.”

“Anyone else? ”

She half laughs.

“Johnny took a shot right along the side of his head. If the little shit had ears it would have blown one off.”

“That it?”

“No. We lost the Empress.”

I look at the Magistrate. All I can see is his back.

We’re basically standing in an auto-wrecking-yard-turned-hospital. Bodies and shot to shit vehicles are scattered at crazy angles in every direction. The havoc looks truly fucked.

I lean away from Doris, taking more of my own weight.

“So much for the crusade.”

“Don’t lose heart,” Doris says. “The Magistrate says we’ll be up and around in a couple of days.”

“Until we come to the next town. They’ll wipe out what’s left of us with powder puffs.”

Doris looks around, too.

“It doesn’t look good, does it? But like Mama used to say, ‘Keep a rainbow in your heart.’”

“She sounds like a nice lady.”

“Mother? Oh god. She was a monster. But she was a good cook. She taught me proper cutlery use.”

The panabas and butcher knives tinkle on her belt like slaughterhouse wind chimes. I wonder which blade she used on Mama.

I lean on a burned-out cop car.

“My dad taught me to use guns.”

She says, “My daddy used to take my brothers hunting. Did you hunt with Daddy?”

“Sort of. He took me into the woods and tried to shoot me.”

She pats my arm.

“Families are complicated. I could have been a better mama and wife myself,” she says wistfully.

Now I wonder which knives she used on the rest of her family.

“You’re doing all right now, Doris.”

“That’s sweet of you. Will you be all right if I leave you here? I want to check on Barbora.”

“I’m fine. Go and tell her I’m sorry.”

“I will. Take care.”

Even half dead and bleeding into the dirt, the havoc is busy. Anyone with two legs is looting what they can from the Legionnaire vehicles. Food. Guns. Ammo. Water. They had their own fuel truck. It’s shot up, but didn’t burn. The camp mechanics and a group of townie conscripts push it to our fuel truck to top it off.

I look around to the flatbeds, hoping they’re trashed. That would kill this asshole crusade quick. But I spot the tarp in the distance. It’s dusty, but there isn’t a single bullet hole.

Cherry totters over, still playing the frail oracle. She pokes me in the side with a finger. I slap her hand away.

“You really are hard to kill, Mr. Pitts,” she rasps.

“It’s just us, Cherry. You can drop the feeble act.”

She leans against the car with me and lowers her respirator.

“I told the Magistrate not to stop here,” she says in her normal voice.

“So your oracle act is real, then.”

“I told you.”

“Yeah, but I never believe anything you tell me.”

“We should go behind the trucks and fuck. It might be our last chance.”

“Don’t start that stuff now.”

She pouts.

“You’re never fun anymore. Every time I see you you’re shot or stabbed or something.”

“It’s inconvenient for me, too.”

She gets in front of me.

“Jimmy, seriously. You can’t die. No one else is going to look out for me out here.”

I rub the spot where she poked me.

“Relax. I’m not dying anytime soon. The one time was plenty.”

“You’re a hero, you know. Everyone is talking about how you got the Magistrate out of the motel.”

“I seem to remember Daja being there. Isn’t she a hero, too?”

Cherry waves dismissively.

“Of course. She’s the toast of the town. But it was you everyone saw when you blew a hole in the fire line. Don’t deny it. I know magic when I see it.”

“So what? I have a cover story.”

“Yeah, Daja told everyone that, too. But even she doesn’t believe it. You want to stay incognito? You better come up with something better than the car and truck just happened to fall apart at the same time.”

“I’ll keep my head down awhile. If I fess up who I am, they’ll know me and Traven have been lying the whole time.”

“And me.”

“Yeah. You too.”

“Plus,” she says, “confessing to a lie that big will almost certainly confirm you’re our ghostly saboteur.”

“People still think that?”

“Enough that it matters.”

“Shit.”

I look past her at the camp.