Dearly, Beloved (49 page)

“No way!” Coalhouse glanced into the rearview mirror. I could see red and blue lights flashing in it. “I’ll let you out, but not him!”

“Then I won’t go!” It was becoming harder and harder to say, even though I felt more and more strongly about it with each passing moment.

“Then tell me where to bloody turn!” On the street in front of us a couple dove out of the way of his oncoming carriage.

I looked out the windows but couldn’t even begin to fashion a mental map of where we were. The buildings outside were seedy, the streets narrow and dirty. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “I think we’re heading north.”

Something brushed my ankle, and I let out a cry. When P One looked up at me and softly said, “Go,” guilt like a small sun burned off the remaining fog of my fear.

“I won’t leave you,” I promised. And with that I found a seat belt and strapped myself in.

Just in time, too. When Coalhouse glanced back at me and understood I would neither help nor hinder him, he set his body resolutely forward and punched down the accelerator. I found myself viewing the ensuing chase like a scene from one of my action-filled holographic movies, not something I was actually
part
of. For a dead guy with no depth perception, Coalhouse was an amazing driver. Some combination of sheer dumb luck and astonishing skill led to him making correct directional choices again and again. Soon the streets were growing emptier, broader, signs that we were headed toward the highway. By the time we started passing small cottages and suburbs full of brick houses with pokey lawns, I knew we were on our way out of the city.

The moment we spun off the final exit ramp and our tires hit the unlighted highway, Coalhouse killed his lights and floored it. My skin prickled as we plunged ahead into the darkness, soon leaving behind the lights of the coppers and their exterior speakers, which had been chanting at us, like a prayer,
“Surrender, pull over! Surrender, pull over!”

Wrenching my restrained body around, I turned to look fully out of the back window as we lost them. I even placed a hand on the glass, as stupid and invisible as it might’ve been. I wished fervently for a lighter to signal with, a flare, the screen of my phone,
anything
, but I had nothing.

Soon I could no longer see them, and it didn’t matter.

It seemed we drove for days after the lights of the pursuing officers went dead behind us, when likely it was only hours. For the first half hour we were all silent. I think it hit us then—exactly what had happened. What we’d done.

Coalhouse lowered his window. I tore off a section of my petticoat and tried to tie it around my shoulder, pain zinging down my arm. I had to use my teeth to hold one end of the improvised bandage.

Coalhouse must have watched me, because he finally spoke. “I can’t believe I did that. I’m so sorry.”

I was relieved to hear those words. He was a good guy, a hero,
and I didn’t want to think that I might have made a mistake trusting him, after all.

“We have to stop,” I said. “Find a way to get in touch with someone. Tom, Chas—”

“I can’t.” He hit the steering wheel, hard. “I can’t go back after this!”

He was right. And it was pointless to try to convince him to take us back to the city, at least not now. I knew that. “Get off at any small town. Go to the sheriff. Turn yourself in. Small town, fewer people …”

And just like that he was off. He was nearly crying, shaking. “I was just trying to complete the mission. But I don’t know what to do now. I don’t
want
to kill him, Nora. I don’t. And I’m so sorry about your arm …”

“The fact that you’re sorry is why I want to help you, Coalhouse. Please …”

But he wouldn’t listen. He just kept driving, changing highways a few times, going down a few back roads. Anytime we caught sight of flashing lights—once a siren whooped, far off, causing the hairs on my neck to rise—he would engage in a dizzying number of turns and eventually follow the smallest, darkest road he could find. We zigzagged everywhere, vaguely northward. I wasn’t sure where we were headed. Coalhouse didn’t seem to have any idea either.

But then we came upon a field full of bonfires. At first I thought we might find help there—that maybe we were looking at some obscure small-town festival or agricultural setup. “What is that?” I asked.

As I formed the words the answer came to me.

It was the Changed.

They’d packed it in like Aberforth said they had, a long line of their vehicles parked along the side of an empty northern highway,
all of them piled high with crates and luggage. They’d set up a temporary camp in a field bordering another set of train tracks, and on the far-off edges of it I could make out tiny shimmering points of light, like landed stars—houses, I figured. We must be in Honduras. Coalhouse must’ve taken a northern route around the eastern side of Allister’s preserve.

He sped up when the camp became visible, the carriage rattling off the shoulder. Fear spiked through me. “What are you doing? Did you drive up here on purpose?” My voice was higher, more panicked than I wanted it to be.

The dead boy didn’t answer right away. He pulled over to the side of the road and powered down the carriage, leaving us to sit in silence as well as darkness. “Not originally.”

The muzzled zombie said nothing, but his eyes gleamed with panic. Undoing my seat belt, I gripped Coalhouse’s arm. “Have you completely lost it? Oh my God, why would you drive us up here?”

“I didn’t set out to! But then …” He looked to the camp. “Laura. She wouldn’t come with me. We can at least save her. I will at
least
do that.”

“No,”
I said, even as Coalhouse opened the door. “Right now we need to be on the other side of the
planet
from here!”

“Quiet,” Coalhouse said. He looked newly determined. And that worried me.

I wracked my brain for ways out of this latest mess. At least Papa would have an actual
reason
to ground me this time. “Before, you guys said Hagens wanted me. You’re putting me in danger, Coalhouse.”

“She doesn’t now. She wants Smoke. And you’re
both
going to stay right here. I’m going to go get Laura. Don’t let anyone see you.”

Without saying another word, Coalhouse shut his door and started off toward a gaily-colored carriage with something boxy
strapped to its roof. It took me a second, but I soon realized it was part of the double-tiered stage we’d seen the night we visited as a group. Next to the carriage was a striped tent.

I watched him go, my heart pounding, my eyes hot. I knew what I had to do. I hated to leave him behind, Laura,
anyone
, but I might not get another chance. If he’d ingratiated himself with Hagens so successfully, he’d be safe here, at least for a time.

Sliding into the front seat, wincing in pain, I powered the carriage on and took a moment to look at the controls. This couldn’t be too difficult. Drive button, steering wheel, accelerator, and brake. That’s all I’d need. Right?

“Smoke,” I said, deciding to use his “real” name. “I’m going to drive us back to the city. I don’t know
how
to drive, so I need you to stay quiet and still, okay?”

“Yes,” he gurgled. “Don’t like it here. Want to be with people.”

“You and me both.” Taking a breath, I put my hands at two and ten and hit the button to take the carriage out of park. I reached up to adjust the rearview mirror, as Coalhouse was tall and I was a shrimp.

That’s when I saw lights heading for us. From the camp.

No
.

My chest going numb, I tried to hit the accelerator. The carriage revved forward far more violently than I expected, causing me to slam on the brake in response with a gasp—a reaction that made me to momentarily question my own sanity.

My idiot reflexes gave the carriages gunning for us just enough time to box us in, fore and aft. I looked into the cab of the one in front of me and saw leering zombies. Guards, probably. I tried to accelerate again, twisting the steering wheel sharply to the left, but all I did was succeed in crashing into the carriage in front of me at a funny angle. One I couldn’t recover from without backing up.

I didn’t dare scream. I didn’t want Smoke to get riled. Our getaway had lasted about two minutes, though, and oh—how I wanted to scream.

The carriages emptied; our doors were opened. We were hauled onto the grass. As the zombies saw Smoke, made out his face by the glow from their headlights, a whoop of triumph went up.

And I was almost sick.

They took us to the striped tent. The only light came from a dented kerosene lantern, and there was nothing inside except two thick wooden support stakes and a few pallets of mismatched bedding.

And Hagens, Coalhouse, and Laura.

Laura was sitting at Hagens’s feet like a slave girl out of some dime novel. She saw us first and looked at us in amazement before staring up at Coalhouse. He was apparently attempting to talk Hagens into letting him take her elsewhere.

“They’re going to move him again,” he was saying. “But I’m not sure where. I think I could get more info out of them if a girl talked to them. Maybe Laura, here? Kinda weird, but this one living guard I know, I think he has a thing for dead girls …”

As he went on, Hagens lifted her head and saw us. Her eyes rounded almost cartoonishly. Laura shut her own.

“And I could …” Coalhouse finally noticed that neither woman was paying attention to him. He turned, and when he saw both of us, our arms pinioned by the guards, it looked like he wanted to die for real. I’m sure my expression had something to do with it.

“What have you done?” Laura whispered. “Oh God. You got
both
of them for her.”

“You did … or you didn’t.” Hagens still looked like a five-year-old
who’d been given a pony for her birthday and wasn’t quite ready to accept that
that thing
was
hers
.

“Saw a carriage park on the road,” my handler said. “Went to go check it out. Look what we found inside?”

“Miss Dearly.” I nodded as invisibly as I could, and Laura turned on Coalhouse, asking again, “What have you
done
?”

“Nothing,” he argued, his voice weak. “I didn’t—”

“Shut up, Laura,” Hagens said brusquely. “Coalhouse—”

She didn’t finish. Laura rose to her feet and actually threw herself at Coalhouse, raining her fists on him, like I had before.
“You’re lying again!”
she screamed. “
Bull!
Bull that you would come back here and just happen to have those two follow you!”

“It wasn’t meant to be like this!” Coalhouse yelled, shoving her back.

That was Hagens’s cue. As I struggled against my captors she reached behind her waist and drew out a gun. Before Coalhouse could say another word, or even curl his hand into a fist, Hagens shot him. I screamed as he reeled back, one shoulder leading the way. She hadn’t gotten him in the head. A couple of the guards behind us tried to back her up, guns emerging and going off around me like fireworks. I ducked my head, trembling, sure I’d be shot again.

That’s when I felt Laura grab me.

The world became a blur of limbs and vines as she tried to pull me away, the sickening carnival colors of the tent whirling overhead. Before she could succeed in freeing me, one of the guards stepped forward and clobbered her in the head. She fell at my feet, and my breath stilled. I wasn’t sure if she was dead or not.

Hagens finally got Coalhouse to submit and put up his hands, her gun aimed at his skull. “I never would have thought it, but God—Coalhouse Gates. You will go down in the annals of zombie history. You’re a hero of legend.”

Coalhouse stared at her as if she’d just damned him to Hell
rather than complimented him. “No. This was a mistake. I need to take them back.”

“I wish you hadn’t said that.” Hagens looked almost disappointed. “It’s clear you’re confused. But that doesn’t make you any less of a hero.”

“All of this. Please … at least give me Nora. You don’t need her.”

“I
don’t
need her. But I’ll take her. She’ll make a fine insurance policy.”

For a moment everything came to a standstill. I had no idea what to do, what I wanted Coalhouse to do. He looked at me, his single eye pleading for something—I don’t know what.

“It was a mistake,” he whispered. “I swear … I’ll make it right.”

And then, injured and scared, he turned and ran off into the night, the entire tent shuddering with the force of his exit. It was so sudden that even the guards held still for a second before moving to pursue him.

“Coalhouse!” I yelled, slumping down in the strange zombie’s arms, surprised and devastated. Maybe he hadn’t meant to bring me here, but he was
leaving
me here.

“What was he talking about?” another guard demanded of Hagens.

“I don’t know, but tell the camp to get on him. Hunt him down.” Her voice was newly vengeful. “This entire thing’s been fishy from the beginning, but I’m not about to argue with results.”

“What do you want with me?” Being those “results,” I figured I’d better just come out with it. Better to know and face my fate than let ignorance drive me insane.

As if finally noticing me, Hagens approached, taking me in hand. She was horribly, painfully strong, her bony fingers digging into my flesh like barbed wire. Struggle as I might, I couldn’t get
free. “Like you need to know?” I let off a string of ugly words, and she tightened her hold. Beside me, Smoke growled.

“Get some rope,” Hagens said to one of her lackeys. He rushed off, and she moved me so I could better see her face. “I just want you as my guest. That’s all.”

“Don’t get fancy on me. Just tell me what you want me for.”

“Because you can hurt so many people.” Her laughter crackled. “People who have hurt me. Griswold, the army—the living. Alive, you can keep a whole hell of a lot of people off my back. Dead, you can teach them why they never should have messed with me in the first place. Kidnapping you was a stupid idea, and I wasn’t even that serious about it, but now? I am very serious indeed.” The zombie reappeared with the rope. “Tie them up.” Looking down at the ground, at Laura, she said, “Her, too.”