Rot & Ruin (Rot & Ruin, #1)(106)

“And if it’s not?”

“Then I’ll find that out. One way or another, Benny, my life is over in Mountainside.”

He thought about it and looked up at the cloud-covered eastern sky. “Yeah,” he said after some long thought. “Maybe.”

“That’s what I’m going to do, Benny. If I’m alive tomorrow, then I’m going east.”

“We don’t know that there’s anything out there but three hundred million zoms.”

“Sure. Three hundred million zoms and enough people to repair, fuel, and fly an airplane. A jet. That says something. That says a lot.”

The storm clouds pulsed with lightning.

“If you’re going east,” he said, “then so am I.”

They sealed the deal with a kiss.

Two hours later the storm roiled and boiled above them, and Benny knew that this one was going to be every bit as bad as the one that had pounded the town two nights ago.

God, he thought, was it only two nights ago?

In less than two hours the clouds went from white to slate gray to bruised purple to midnight black, and fierce winds from the lowlands snatched up leaves and branches and desert dust and

used them like artillery. The rain had not yet started to fall, but the humidity made Benny and Nix feel like they were underwater as they climbed down from the promontory and began sneaking

toward the camp. Lilah was nowhere to be seen, nor had they had a sign of her in hours. Had she succeeded or had Benny sent her to her death with his harebrained plan?

The wind howled through the trees, like a host of banshees. Benny had never heard anything like it, and despite everything, there was some weird little part of him that liked it. It wasn’t

“cool”—He’d cut off his leg before he used that word again. No, it was, in its own raw and primal way, magnificent. Nature screaming in anger, and Benny could not help but believe that

it was screaming in anger against all that had been done by the men in this camp. Maybe some of those whistling shrieks were in support of what three kids—a red-haired beauty of a sun-

freckled girl, a wild hazel-eyed man-killer, and a moody and battered boy who had no right trying to be a hero—were trying to do.

As they crawled through the foliage, Benny kept grinning. Nix looked at him and shook her head. That’s okay, he thought, she already thinks I’m crazy.

Charlie Matthias whipped open the flap of his tent, and the wind nearly knocked him over. He tilted into the gale and grabbed a sapling for support. All around him debris was flying. A

cooking pot sailed past him, and he was pelted by acorns and pinecones. Using one massive hand to shield his eyes, he roared orders to his men to secure their gear.

He pointed at the pigpen, where the kids huddled in terror. “Joey! Get over there and see to the merchandise!”

On the far side of the camp, Joey Duk climbed out of his tent and bent into the wild rain to comply. He climbed over the rail of the pen and pushed through the kids. All of their collar

ropes were bundled together in one central point, and that was wound around the trunk of a small tree, but the tree was whipping back and forth with each gust. Joey lashed the lines tighter

and shifted the central line lower to make use of the thicker base of the tree.

Benny and Nix watched from thirty feet away. They were in shadows and hidden behind a cracked boulder. Benny pointed to the tent Joey had come out of. Every time the wind blew, the flap

opened, and they could see part of Vin Trang’s face.

“That’s it,” Benny said in an urgent whisper. “That’s how we’re going to create part one of our diversion.” He quickly told Nix what he had in mind.

“How are you going to get past Vin?”

“I’ll think of something.”

“Okay, but we also have to get Charlie and the Hammer away from the pen,” said Nix, her mouth right against his ear, so that he could hear through the storm.

He nodded. The storm was complicating things. Half an hour ago most of the men were in their tents; now everybody was running around. He grumbled about it, but Nix shook her head. “Maybe

Vin will come out of his tent too.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

“Where’s Lilah? Shouldn’t she be back by now?”


“Give her time,” said Benny, but in truth he was starting to worry. Lilah should have been back twenty minutes ago. He began to get a sinking feeling about whether she would be coming back

at all.

The wind began to slacken, and they looked up to see that the dense black cloud cover was now a swirling gray blue.

“Oh come on, man,” Benny said despairingly. “Can you try and cut us one frigging break? I mean, really … just one?”

A fat raindrop splatted him right in the eye.

Just the one.

Benny quietly cursed as he wiped his eye clear. He and Nix turned and looked at the camp. The bounty hunters were laughing now, bending to pick up their scattered possessions, making rude

jokes about Mother Nature. The kids in the pen cringed together. Benny leaned as far forward as he could, almost coming out of the shadows, trying to get a handle on their next move.

On the outside edge of the huddle, the oldest of them, a girl of about twelve, knelt with her arms around the shoulders of the smallest. Her face was streaked with tears, but she spoke