Dearly, Beloved (38 page)

Renfield actually narrowed his eyes. “Forgive me, Miss Dearly, but who said she wanted to talk to
you
?”

Ouch
. I watched as the two glared at each other for a split second before parting. Ren sat decisively; Nora stomped to the door, her dress rustling. I didn’t follow, opting to linger near my friend. “Sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” Ren put his book down and turned back to his chess program, his posture stiff. “I might have quite a few physical problems, up to and including
death
, but mentally? I’m king of this little castle. Even Miss Mink knows it. She knew I would get it.”

“I know.” And I did, because Ren’s depth and breadth of
knowledge always amazed me. “Look, keep doing whatever you’re doing. See if she speaks up again.”

Renfield sighed. “Fine.”

Sensing that I should get out of his way, I headed downstairs. I didn’t seek out Nora, figuring she needed her usual cool-down period—and kind of annoyed at her myself. Instead I went looking for Samedi. He was in the study, alone, just as I’d found him earlier that day.

“Manage to get in touch with the Ratcatcher, like I asked?”

Hearing me, Sam wrenched his body around in his chair. “Have you gotten into some kind of trouble, Bram?”

This was not the greeting I’d been expecting. Leaning in the doorway, I said, “No. Why?”

“I sent a note to Rats, telling him we wanted to meet up, ask a few questions. He refused.” Samedi stood and walked over to join me. “He said the Grave Housers aren’t worth talking about. They’re about four or five years old. Controlled a couple blocks, had some corrupt coppers on their side. Were doing well till the Siege, now not so much.”

“Well, that’s fair. What’s the problem?”

“He said that
you
should not contact him under any circumstances. Ever. That he would not deal with you, has nothing to say to you, wouldn’t even talk to me about you.”

“What, did I offend him by standing too close the other day?” What could he have against me?

“I don’t know.” Samedi seemed to examine every square inch of my face. “I’d help any of his crew, so it’s damn insulting. And then he shuts me out? Shows me such disrespect? Took everything in me not to curse him into his mother’s arms in Hell.”

“I’m clean as a whistle. Mostly.” It was weird to think in those terms. “And I don’t want any dealings with him or his people aside from information.”

Samedi considered this, and moved back toward his chair, taking
a seat. The small tables to either side of it were stacked high with equipment. “I’ll figure it out. God, I didn’t want to get involved with this again.”

He didn’t sound happy. I didn’t know how to fix that, so I turned to go.

He stopped me with, “I don’t want you to be like me, Bram.”

“I do. You’re a good guy, Doc.”

“Only recently.” He glanced at the boarded-up windows, as if the knots in the plywood might tell him something, like tea leaves in the bottom of a cup. “Belinda’s into processing carriages. That’s pretty straightforward. But Rats …”

“What does he do?”

“He catches people. He takes them wherever he’s paid to, and he doesn’t ask what’s going to happen to them.” Sam cracked his neck. “And these were the people I counted as friends. That was the kind of life I lived.”

Returning to Sam’s side, I patted his shoulder. “You’ve always done right by me. You’ve done right for years.”

Sam nodded. After a minute of silent solidarity, just as I was preparing to leave again, he said, “I will help you all I can, but it might be slow going. The remembering’s enough to kill me sometimes. And I hate that. I hate that I’m getting soft when Beryl needs me to be tougher than ever.”

“Thanks for doing everything you have.” I meant it. “And we’re with you, you know that. No matter what.”

After making sure Samedi was settled, I finally headed off. Once I was out of the house, I decided that I had my own people to call on. People I
should
call on.

In a way, Coalhouse was right. We had to take matters into our own hands.

*  *  *

Later that night, I tried to tell him that.

I went to the ships after dinner at Dearly’s behest, and ended up bouncing between the two, doing whatever was needed. While on the
Erika
, I caught sight of Coalhouse hanging out in the lab area. He looked dirty and tired, and I tried to approach him—but on seeing me, he quite openly showed himself out. Such a childish display should’ve angered me, but I was just happy to see he was safe. He must’ve spent the whole day wandering, brooding. Probably wanted medical care for something.

It wasn’t until nearly 4:00 A.M. that I saw him again—going for his ride, just like I was. He’d apparently gotten his hands on a beaten-up, square-bodied carriage somewhere. He wore a satchel over his shoulder.

This was it. We had to talk.

Crossing the parking lot, the ocean in my ears, I caught him as he was unlocking his door. I tried to ease into things by asking, “Hey, where’d you get her? Been thinking about trying to get one of my own. Even the crappy ones are really expensive, though.”

“I got paid for my time in the army just like you did,” he replied, shoving his satchel inside. He turned, watching me expectantly. “So? Going to scold me like a two-year-old again?”

“No.” When he didn’t respond I added, “Just wondering where you’ve been. That’s all.”

“Did you go the police?”

“Called them earlier.”

“Well. Hope that made you feel better.”

I held my tongue. I didn’t want to go off on him. “What are you doing?” When his eye narrowed, I shook my head. “Just give it to me straight.”

“What you wouldn’t do.” Coalhouse removed his soft cap and stuffed it into his pocket, before scratching at one of his bald
spots. He looked shaken, for some reason. “Trying to figure things out on my own.”

“What things?”

“You act like we should just report everything to the authorities like a bunch of patsies, and smile while we wait for ’em to puzzle things out,” he argued. “We have to do some stuff ourselves.”

“I agree with that,” I told him. “But I’m also not willing to let people get hurt. I’m not willing to let
you
be hurt.”

“I’m just fine!” For some reason, that statement really set him off. “I’m trying to help you. So just shut up and let me!”

“What have you figured out, then?” I asked, my patience wearing thin.

“Nothing yet. But I will. I have an idea now. Time.”

“Idea? Time?” Sharp fellow that I am, I finally realized his hearing aid was also gone. “Where’s your hearing aid? And your other eye?”

“Finally threw them away. Figure I’m just fine the way I am. People can speak up and look at this side of my face, or take a hike.”

Surprise only compounded my growing annoyance. “Tell me what’s going on, Coalhouse. Come on. You’re up to something.”

“Gonna get Hagens to talk,” he said grumpily. “And her group’ll be out of New London soon. There, that enough for you?”

“What?” I said, getting up close to him. “How do you know that?”

“She told me. You know, you trusted me once before.” His expression curdled. “You
acted
like you trusted me once before, at least.”

“Told you? Coalhouse, whatever you’re angry about, I’m
sorry
for it. But you can’t go back up there. You’re going to get into trouble!”

“You know, you’re not really my captain anymore. So just let me work it. Do my own thing.” Opening the door fully, he hopped into his carriage.

“Coalhouse, you’re
right
! I’m going to—” He didn’t listen. He slammed his door shut and peeled away, leaving me alone.

What the hell had gotten into him? I felt like he was being contentious just for the sake of being contentious. What did he expect us to do? Take the Changed on guerrilla style? Waste time playing spy, trying to plumb them for information?

Time was the one thing none of us had.

Just as our den in New London had once been traded in for the camp, the camp was traded in for the road. Hagens and the other leaders acted as if we were setting out on a massive zombie pilgrimage. They talked about how the Changed would grow even as it moved, until we emerged in the Northern Wastelands an army, a cloud of locusts. How we would give birth to our own world.

Before they took it down, and while everyone was distracted, I snuck into Mártira’s tent and took the first thing I saw to remember her by—which happened to be one of her favorite hair combs. The silver one that concealed a razor blade. I hid it in my bodice, using a thorn to pin it to my body, like a butterfly under glass.

It was all I had of her now.

It was foolish to imagine, what with the number of zombies we had with us, that we could outrun anybody, hide from anything—but that wasn’t the point. The point was distance. The point was
moving
. And so the leaders decided to drive around the Maria Bosawas-Allister preserve before heading northwest, dragging out old, faded paper maps to figure out a route.

“The big roads will take us into the middle of the richies’ territory, though,” Bruno said. “It’s suicide to cut through there.”

“Suicide doesn’t mean anything to us anymore.” Hagens yanked the map from his hands and tore it in two. “Let
them
move, if they’re so disturbed by us.”

Hagens kept me close, forcing me to ride with her. She was growing angrier by the hour, and I cursed myself for not leaving with the young zombies that first night. I desperately sought moments during stops when I could sneak away and find Dog or Abuelo, try to comfort them. Once, I did, and when I tried to leave, Dog caught hold of my arm and actually uttered a sound—a little moan of fear.

Kissing him, saying goodbye to him, was one of the hardest things I’d ever had to do.

But I did it. I knew no other way.

Coalhouse showed up at dawn the next day.

I was sleeping with the leaders around the remains of the campfire. The voices of the men who’d been appointed to guard duty woke me. They had Coalhouse, and they pushed him to his knees in the midst of our group. He met my eyes, but I couldn’t decide if he was trying to tell me anything. He wore no weapons.

As the others woke, they cursed and went for their guns. Hagens did, too, once her eyes were open. “I
told
you to
get
.” Though her voice was low, there was something in it that reminded me of a wildcat’s scream. She stood, aiming her pistol at his head.

“He had this,” one of the guards said, tossing a cloth satchel at Hagens’s feet. She flicked it open with her toe. I half expected a bomb, but there were only a few pieces of paper inside.

“I know you did,” Coalhouse said. “I know a lot of things about you. Like the fact that you want Smoke back.” He turned his eye on Hagens. “The pages. Look at them.”

Keeping her gun locked, she knelt down and pulled out a few
of the documents, or whatever they were. I couldn’t see. Skepticism was writ across her face.

“Do you know what those are?” Hagens said nothing, but slowly straightened and started to sift through them with one hand, letting anything she examined flutter to the ground. “Those are copies of his X rays. Models of his version of the Laz. Notes on the people he bit. All classified. You think they’d just release this stuff to me, even to tempt you with?”

“How did you get these?” she asked.

“Last night, I was in the same room as him.” He lifted his hands. “I
can
help you. And if you think I’m trying to double-cross you? Just shoot me. I’ll die knowing in my heart that I was trying to help my people.”

Hagens peered at another page, then at Coalhouse. “You really willing to talk?”

“If you are.”

“Not now. Everyone put your guns away.” The leaders reluctantly obeyed. She tucked hers in her trousers, though she didn’t look less wary. “Okay, then. Stay with us today. If I like how you act, we’ll talk tonight.”

“I want her in my carriage,” he said, looking at me again. My chest tingled. I’d thought so little of him, and he was back. Looking to save me. Like a prince.

“No,” Hagens said. “Not doing that.”

“Then you don’t get my help. Look, if I try to run off with her, you guys’ll get us. You seen the piece of crap I’m driving? And I’m sure she can talk, but what can she prove?”

Hagens looked at the papers again, separated a few out with her foot. What she saw there was clearly interesting. “Fine. I’m sure she’s told you everything she knows anyway.”

They were the most beautiful words I’d ever heard her say.

*  *  *

Coalhouse’s carriage was a mess. The upholstery was peeling off of the doors and slashed on the seats; the soft top roof was bowing inward. All of the stereo equipment had been ripped out.

Still, compared to what was outside, it was heaven.

Abuelo and Dog came along and dozed in the back. I had time away from Hagens, and a tin canteen full of water, and someone I felt I could be honest with. Coalhouse had risked his life to get Hagens to talk. I told myself that I just had to be patient. That he was my knight in shining armor, a genius, practically a god.