Flesh-&-Bone(86)

She found nothing to believe in. Nothing she could save, and to someone like her, protecting and saving people was all that mattered. But she hadn’t been able to save her family, and in the wastelands of what had once been America she found nothing else worth saving. Nothing that would last if saved.

And then she met Saint John, and all that changed.

Now she was one of the most trusted reapers of the Night Church. A true believer who worshipped Saint John as much as she worshipped Thanatos and the darkness. The saint had promised her—actually sworn to her—that when her time came, he would take his own sacred knives and open a red mouth in her flesh. With his own sanctified hands he would guide her into the darkness.

That was something she could believe in. A guaranteed end to pain, and a pathway to the sea of darkness in which the spirits of her family swam.

It was beautiful.

She would do anything for Saint John.

Sister Amy lay on the ground, her body totally hidden by a thick line of shrubs, her scent masked by the chemicals into which her red ribbons had been dipped. Those chemicals fooled more than the gray people. Even dogs avoided the smell. It did not trigger their aggression. It just made her scent . . . uninteresting, and that was the genius of it.

She lay in the hot darkness, her body utterly still, her breathing controlled, her mind quiet and receptive.

Listening.

To the ranger and the Lost Girl.

To strange tales of how, in the terrible days after First Night, the lost and lonely survivors found one another and built fences against the dead. How they built nine towns in central California. And how, behind the fences, they survived.

Nine towns, filled with heretics whose every heartbeat was an affront to God.

Nine towns that did not even know that the army of the Night Church existed.

Yet.





56

“THE AMERICAN NATION,” NIX SAID AGAIN. “I HOPE IT’S REAL. I HOPE IT’S not just a bunch of little towns like ours.”

“It has to be more than that,” said Benny. “They have planes. This one and the jet. Maybe more. They even made a flag. It sounds . . . I don’t know . . . big. Bigger than anything we’ve ever seen.”

Nix turned away from him and stared out through the broken windows into the hot desert outside. Her back was as stiff as a board, and she gripped the back of the pilot’s chair so ferociously that her fingers dug into the cracked leather.

“Hey,” said Benny, “what’s wrong? We did it, we found proof that there’s something out there. I know things are crazy right at the moment, with those freaks out there and all, but I thought you’d be—”

She cut a sharp look at him. “Be what? Be happy? Is that what you want, Benny? For me to be happy? God, you really don’t know who I am, do you? You have no idea why I want to find that jet, or why finding all this is so . . . so . . . ” She gave the pilot’s chair a vicious kick and didn’t finish her sentence. Instead she glared out the window, muttering “God” under her breath.

“Maybe I do understand,” Benny said, and as he said it he was aware that he was stepping way out on a limb. But he was tired of being careful all the time.

Nix didn’t look at him. “What do you understand?”

“You even said it once,” Benny said. “You said that Mountainside wasn’t your home anymore. With your mom gone, and now Tom . . . you don’t feel like you belong there anymore.”

She still didn’t look at him.

Benny said, “Hey, I know that you think I’m just some dumb boy who doesn’t get you. Chong thinks I’m halfway to being a moron, and Lilah . . . well, I doubt Lilah thinks about me at all. But I’m not stupid and I’m not blind. Since Tom died I’ve had a lot of time to think things over. I’ve seen you drift away more and more ever since we left and—”

“This isn’t about us, Benny.”

“I’m not talking about us. I’m not talking about our relationship falling apart. When I say that I see you drifting away, I mean from everything. You don’t try to relate to anyone. Well . . . I guess Eve was the only one, and that was only for a few minutes. You’ve gone inside your own head, Nix, and I’m pretty sure you don’t like what’s in there.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she snapped.

“Yeah, I do. Just like I know that every time I want to talk about something, you snap at me. It’s a defense mechanism. You keep me and everyone else at arm’s length that way. And that way no one can get in.” He took a step toward her. “You really think I don’t understand? You lost your whole family when your mom died. You and I started when you were emotionally screwed up, I know that. I know that Tom and your mom were in love. They were probably going to get married, but that was taken away from you too. You think you’re all alone, so you need—really need—to find another place. A place that isn’t Mountainside and isn’t the Rot and Ruin. I get that, I really do. That’s why you’ve been so obsessed about the jet. It’s like a . . . like a lifeline, I guess.”