Rot & Ruin (Rot & Ruin, #1)(14)

’Bout time for the wagons, ain’t it?,’ but they don’t really acknowledge where the wagons come from or why the wagons are covered in sheet metal and the horses wrapped in carpet and

chain mail. They know, but they don’t know. Or don’t want to know.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

Tom walked a bit before he said, “There’s town and then there’s the Rot and Ruin. Most of the time they aren’t in the same world, you know?”

Benny nodded. “I guess I do.”

He stopped and stared ahead with narrowed eyes. Benny couldn’t see anything, but then Tom grabbed his arm and pulled him quickly off the road and led him in a wide circle through the groves

of trees. Benny peered between the hundreds of tree trunks and finally caught a glimpse of three zoms, shuffling slowly along the road. One was whole; the other two had ragged flesh where

other zoms had feasted on them while they were still alive.

Benny opened his mouth and almost asked Tom how he knew they were there, but Tom made a shushing gesture and continued on, moving soundlessly through the soft summer grass.

When they were well clear, Tom took them back up to the road.

“I didn’t even see them!” Benny gasped, turning to look back.

“Neither did I.”

“Then how … ?”

“You get a feel for this sort of thing.”

Benny held his ground, still looking back. “I don’t get it. There were only three of them. Couldn’t you have … you know …”

“What?”

“Killed them,” said Benny flatly. “Charlie Matthias said he’ll go out of his way to chop a zom or two. He doesn’t run from anything.”

“Is that what he says?” Tom murmured, then continued down the road.

Benny shrugged, then followed.





7


TWICE MORE TOM PULLED BENNY OFF THE ROAD SO THEY COULD CIRCLE around wandering zombies. After the second time, once they were clear of the creatures’ olfactory range, Benny grabbed Tom’s

arm and demanded, “Whyn’t you just pop a cap in them?”

Tom gently pulled his arm free. He shook his head and didn’t answer.

“What, are you afraid of them?” Benny yelled.

“Keep your voice down.”

“Why? You afraid a zom will come after you? Big, tough zombie killer who’s afraid to kill a zombie.”

“Benny,” said Tom with thin patience, “sometimes you say some truly stupid things.”

“Whatever,” Benny said, and pushed past him.

“Do you know where you’re going?” Tom said when Benny was a dozen paces along the road.

“This way.”

“I’m not,” said Tom, and he began climbing the slope of a hill that rose gently from the left-hand side of the road. Benny stood in the middle of the road and seethed for a full minute.

He was muttering the worst words he knew all the while he climbed up the hill after Tom.

There was a narrower road at the top of the hill, and they followed that in silence. By ten o’clock they’d entered a series of steeper hills and valleys that were shaded by massive oak

trees with cool green leaves. Tom cautioned Benny to be quiet as they climbed to the top of a ridge that overlooked a small country lane. At the curve of the road was a small cottage with a

fenced yard and an elm tree so gnarled and ancient that it looked like the world had grown up around it. Two figures stood in the yard, but they were too small to see. Tom flattened out at

the top of the ridge and motioned for Benny to join him.

Tom pulled his field glasses from a belt holster and studied the figures for a long minute.

“What do you think they are?” He handed the binoculars to Benny, who snatched them with more force than was necessary. Benny peered through the lenses in the direction Tom pointed.

“They’re zoms,” Benny said.

“No kidding, boy genius. But what are they?”

“Dead people.”

“Ah.”

“Ah … what?”

“You just said it. They’re dead people. They were once living people.”

“So what? Everybody dies.”

“True,” admitted Tom. “How many dead people have you seen?”

“What kind of dead? Living dead, like them, or dead dead, like Aunt Cathy?”

“Either. Both.”

“I don’t know. The zombies at the fence … and a couple of people in town, I guess. Aunt Cathy was the first person I ever knew who died. I was, like, six when she died. I remember the

funeral and all.” Benny continued to watch the zombies. One was a tall man, the other a young woman or teenage girl. “And … Morgie Mitchell’s dad died after that scaffolding collapsed. I

went to his funeral too.”

“Did you see either of them quieted?”

“Quieted” was the acceptable term for the necessary act of inserting a metal spike, called a “sliver,” into the base of the skull to sever the brain stem. Since First Night, anyone who

died would reanimate as a zombie. Bites made it happen too, but really any recently deceased person would come back. Every adult in town carried at least one sliver, though Benny had never