The Kill Society (Sandman Slim)(51)

“Me too,” says Traven.

The cookie is terrible. It tastes like sugary dust. I eat every bite.



Instead of waiting to sneak Traven out to the obelisk, we move camp the next day while people are still on a sugar high . . . and of course the chains on the flatbeds break just a few miles down the road. Later in the day, a semi boils over and needs to have its radiator replaced.

Just like that, everybody’s mood goes black again. The evil gremlins are back at work. A cut here. A slice there. And the whole crusade dies in its tracks. At least no one is looking at me anymore. Especially Daja and Wanuri. I’m still not sure what would have happened the other day if Doris hadn’t called Wanuri out. I doubt I’d be around to worry about it. That leaves the sixty-four-dollar question: If I’m not the rat, who is?

And why?

After we make camp for the night, the Magistrate, Traven, and the rest of the dog pack pile into Gisco’s car and drive to the obelisk. Traven moons over it almost as much as the Magistrate.

“It’s amazing. I’ve never seen anything like it,” he says.

The Magistrate stands next to him.

“But do you recognize it, Father?”

Traven nods, not taking his eyes off the marble.

“It’s a proto-Hellion script. Pre-Pandemonium, I’d guess.”

“Guessing is not good enough, I am afraid. Can you translate it?”

“Yes,” says Traven. “But I’ll need my books and a day or two. Some of the figures are worn and I’ll have to work out what they are by trial and error.”

“But you can do it?”

“I can.”

The Magistrate claps his hands, and for the first time in days, you can feel the pack relax. Doris hugs Barbora and Wanuri.

Daja goes to the Magistrate.

“You did it. You’ve brought us through the first step of the crusade,” she says. “Thank you.”

He puts an arm around her and gazes at the obelisk.

“Thank you for believing in me.”

He turns to the rest of us.

“Thank you all for believing. The next two days will be momentous for us all. It is time to tell the others.”

I still think the Magistrate is crazier than a clown car full of rats, but I keep that to myself. As the others head back to their vehicles, I hang back with Traven.

“You sure you can do this?”

“I’m positive.”

“Does it say anything about why we’re lugging a howitzer through the Mojave?”

“With luck, I’ll be able to tell you soon.”

“You’re going to need more than luck. If these lunatics don’t get some good news, they’re going to tear each other apart.”

He looks at me.

“Isn’t that what you want? For the havoc to destroy itself?”

“Not when we’re in the middle of it. A riot is like a tire fire. Only fun if you’re seeing it from a great distance.”

“Shake a leg, lovebirds,” shouts Wanuri.

On the way back to camp, I take out the butcher knife Doris gave me and slice off my bandages. Toss them in air and let the breeze carry them away.

Daja looks at my bullet wound.

“It didn’t heal up so bad.”

“One more for the collection.”

“You should learn to duck.”

“No one tells me these things until it’s too late.”

She gets up and dusts herself off.

“I’ve decided not to kill you,” Daja says.

“Why’s that?”

“You helped with Gisco and haven’t been entirely useless around camp.”

“When were you going to do it?”

“Tonight. Now that we know the father can do the translation.”

“That’s funny,” I say.

“Why?”

“I was going to do the same thing to you and make it look like Wanuri did it.”

We look at the other woman. She frowns at us.

“Let’s just keep that between us,” says Daja.

“Yeah. It’s probably for the best.”

I get out the water bottle I filled with Aqua Regia. We both have a drink.

Wanuri is still looking at us. I offer her the bottle. She sniffs it and hands it back.

To Daja she says, “I told you this one is crazy. Don’t let him make you crazy, too.”

“We’re celebrating,” Daja says.

“What?”

“It’s our anniversary,” I say.

“Anniversary of what?”

“Not murdering each other.”

Wanuri shakes her head.

“It’s too late for you, girl. He’s dragged you into his madness.”

Daja takes out a chocolate bar and gives it to her.

“Relax,” she says. “It’s going to be all right. Everything is going to be all right now.”

Wanuri looks at the obelisk, not entirely convinced, but she gobbles down the chocolate anyway.



We move camp the next day and set up the havoc around the obelisk. A paddy wagon takes some conscripts back to the roadside store. They drag a desk and chair from the manager’s office and set it up by the obelisk for Traven. He lays out his old books and begins copying the symbols from each side of the obelisk. The damned thing is so tall he has to use the Magistrate’s spyglass to copy the highest carvings. This isn’t going to be a quick job.