Flesh-&-Bone(20)

“I thought so,” Nix said, and Benny did not at all like the way she said it.

They walked in silence for another full minute.

“Okay,” he said when he could no longer bear it, “what’s going on?”

“With what?” she asked, not looking at him.

“With us.”

“Nothing,” she said tightly. “Everything’s fine.”

“Really?” he asked. “Is it?”

Nix stared ahead as they walked, watching the bees and the dragonflies.

“Look at me,” he said.

She did not.

“Nix . . . what is it?” he asked gently. “Did I do something, or—?”

“No,” she said quickly.

“Then what is it?”

“Does it have to be anything?”

“Pretty much, yeah. For the last couple of weeks you’ve been weird.”

“Weird?” She loaded that word with jagged chunks of ice.

“Not weird weird, but, you know . . . different. You spend all your time talking to Lilah or not talking to anyone. We hardly talk anymore.”

She stopped and wheeled on him. “And you spend all your time moping around like the world just ended.”

Benny gaped at her. “No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do,” she insisted.

“Well, okay, maybe I’ve been dealing with some stuff. My brother just died, you know.”

“I know.”

“He was murdered.”

“I know.”

“So maybe I need time to sort through that, ever think about that?”

Nix’s eyes blazed. “Are you going to lecture me about dealing with grief, Benjamin Imura? Your brother died fighting. My mother was beaten to death. How do you think that makes me feel?”

“It makes you feel like crap, how do you think I think it makes you feel?”

“Then what are you harping on—”

“Who’s harping?” he said defensively. “Jeez, Nix, all I did was ask what was wrong. Don’t bite my head off.”

“I’m not biting your head off.”

“Then why are you yelling?”

“I’m not yelling,” she yelled.

Benny took a steadying breath and let it out slowly.

“Nix, I do understand what you’re going through. I’m going through it too.”

“It’s not the same thing,” she said very quietly. An elk poked its head out from behind some sagebrush, studied them for a moment, then bent to eat berries from another bush.

“Then why won’t you tell me what it is?”

She glared at him. “Honestly, Benny, sometimes I think you don’t even know who I am.”

With that she turned and stalked away, her spine as stiff as a board. Benny stood openmouthed until she was almost back to the tree where Chong sat with Eve.

“What the hell was that all about?” he asked the elk.

The elk, being an elk, said nothing.

Dispirited and deeply troubled, Benny thrust his hands in his pockets and walked slowly over to the edge of the ravine to stare at the faces of the living dead. They looked at him with dead eyes, but in some eerie way Benny felt that they could see him and that they somehow understood all the mysteries that were sewn like stitches through the skin of this day.





FROM NIX’S JOURNAL

A lot of the stuff Tom taught us has nothing to do with zoms. Once, right after we started training, Morgie asked Tom why we bothered, ’cause after all, Charlie and the Hammer were dead. This was before we left town, before we met White Bear and Preacher Jack.

Tom said that we should never assume that we know what’s out there. He said, “People in town refer to everything beyond the fence line as the great Rot and Ruin. We assume that it’s nothing but a wasteland from our fence all the way to the Atlantic Ocean three thousand miles away. But we saw that jet, so there is something out there. We don’t know what it is, or whether whoever’s out there will be friendly. Or generous. Or open to us joining them. A smart warrior prepares for all eventualities.”

Tom also said, “Even before First Night there were all kinds of people who wanted to be on their own. Isolationists, religious orders, militant groups, back-to-nature groups, communes, military bases, remote research stations, and more. Some of these people will do anything to protect their privacy or their way of life. To them . . . we’re outsiders and intruders.”