Flesh & Bone (12 page)

“Okay, but—how?”

Mother Rose paused. “My daughter told me.”

“What?”

“Three years ago.”

“That’s impossible. Margaret took off four years ago and—”

“And she came back,” said Mother Rose firmly. “Just the once. She snuck into our camp when we were in Nebraska, the night before we torched Auburn. She said that after she left the Night Church she got really sick. Cholera. She almost died, but then she met some of the Children of God monks, and they took her to a place in Nevada where they cured her.”

“Cured her of cholera? What’d they do? Use a time machine and go back to when the pharmacies were still open? C’mon, Rosie, ever since the Fall, if you get something like cholera you die. End of story.”

Mother Rose smiled at him. “And yet when she came into my tent she was completely healed. Margaret thought that it was a miracle. She said that there were what she called ‘special monks’ who had machines and all sorts of chemicals.”

“‘Special monks’? You mean scientists? Doctors?”

Mother Rose nodded. “She thought that it would change my view of the world, that I’d no longer think there was no hope. She thought that if I knew such things were possible, then I would stop trying to kill everyone.”

“Jeez.”

“Funny thing is,” said Mother Rose, “she was right. Just . . . not in the way she hoped.”

“If Margaret snuck into your tent, why’d you let her leave? You could have called a hundred reapers to—”

Mother Rose shook her head. “She’s still my daughter.”

“So—you let her go?”

“Not exactly.”

“Then what—?”

“When I threatened to call Saint John, my darling daughter clubbed me unconscious with my own bottle of wine. When I woke up, she was long gone.”

“And you never told anyone?”

“I’m telling you now.”

The giant grunted. “Special monks. Jeez. You believe any of that crap?”

“I do. Over the last three years I’ve kept my ears and eyes open. There have been other people telling similar stories. Unfortunately, these other people were given inoculations and treatments by wandering monks, not at Sanctuary itself. None of them were able to tell me precisely where it is. However, I put enough pieces together to get us this far.”

“You really think the reapers saw your daughter?”

She nodded. “I know they did. Sister Cecily already told me. That’s why I want to meet with the team leaders. I want Margaret brought to me. Alive and able to talk. She does
know where Sanctuary is, and I’m going to . . . encourage her to tell her dear, sweet, loving mother.”

“You are one devious broad.” He chuckled. “You know Saint John’ll skin you alive if he ever gets a whiff of any of this, right?”

“Which is why I have you, dear Alexi.” She patted the huge expanse of his chest. “I think it’s high time the Night Church had its first martyr.”

The giant gave her a cruel leer and hefted his hammer. “I can’t wait for the chance to smash that fruitcake into red paste.”

“My hero,” she said, making a joke out of it and rolling her eyes.

The big man bent and kissed Mother Rose full on the mouth. The kiss was intense and passionate.

Mother Rose pushed him roughly away, but she was laughing as she did so. She took a deep breath and exhaled. “It’s coming soon, Alexi, can’t you feel it? The war, this killing, it’s all going to end, and we are going to own this world.”

“What’s left of it,” he snorted.

She punched him on the chest. “Oh, I think there will be plenty left for us to play with.”

They laughed at that, and then turned and walked hand in hand into the forest.

After they were gone, Lilah climbed silently down from her ledge and moved to the spot where the group of reapers had stood. She bent and studied the footprints of each of the people who had just left, identifying them and cataloging them in her mind. Alexi’s prints were larger than any prints Lilah had ever seen. He would be very easy to track, though
Lilah knew that if it came to a fight, she would have to use her pistol. There was no way she wanted to tangle with that brute and his sledgehammer. Alexi looked like he could have broken Charlie Pink-eye in half with his bare hands.

She moved along the bank of the stream, backtracking to follow Mother Rose’s footprints. They came from the east. Lilah also saw that those prints overlapped several of the tiny prints made by Eve. Mother Rose had clearly come from the east, just as Eve had. As, perhaps, all of these strangers had. Coming from the east, pushing trouble to the west.

Lilah caught movement above her and glanced up to see several vultures circling in the east. If Eve’s family was somewhere farther down this creek, then Lilah needed to find them and warn them.

But as she ran, she already believed that it was too late.

21

T
HE MALE LION STOOD AND WATCHED THEM, BUT HE MADE NO MOVE
. The breeze ruffled the dark tangles of his mane but he held his ground, seeming content to be a spectator. It was the females, Benny remembered, who did the hunting. Males, though powerful and aggressive, were lazier. After a science class one day, Nix had dropped a comment about how true this was among humans, too. Benny had wisely avoided replying, but Morgie Mitchell challenged her on it, and the rest of the afternoon was spent at the fishing hole, watching Nix surgically dissect Morgie with her sharp tongue.

Now he watched as one big female took a tentative step toward them. The other two females, both of them considerably smaller than her, crouched and tensed, waiting to pick up their attack cues. Benny remembered something about smaller lionesses in a pack “herding” prey toward the big female, who did the killing. He and his friends had made that job easier for them by standing all in a bunch, with a deadfall behind them and nowhere else to run.

Benny very slowly took his
katana
in a two-handed grip.

“No,” warned Chong. “Don’t provoke them.”

“Dude, they’re hungry lions. I’m pretty sure they’re already provoked.”

The sword did not give Benny much comfort. Fighting lions had never been part of Tom’s training. The weapon felt like a dull kitchen knife.

“You got a plan?” he whispered.

“No,” croaked Chong. “I’m hoping for an evolutionary jump that will allow me to suddenly grow wings.”

It was a dumb time for a joke, but Benny knew his friend was talking to keep from panicking.

Benny tried to view their options like a chess player. The ravine was behind them; the forest was to their left, and to their right was a field of tall grass that washed up against a smaller section of forest, which in turn circled around to join the main woods. However, the smaller lions were between them and whatever meager safety the forest might provide. There did not seem to be any way out.

“Benny,” Nix whispered, “why aren’t they attacking?”

“Don’t encourage them.”

“No . . .”

“Zoms,” said Chong. “After all these years, they’ve probably gotten wary of zoms.”

“Lions don’t attack zoms,” said Nix.

“No. As you both pointed out, nothing does.” He lightly touched his pocket, and they could hear the clink of his bottles of cadaverine. “We all smell like zombies.”

“I’m not wearing any,” said Benny. “Neither is Eve.”

Chong sighed.

The lioness heard their muted conversation and growled.

“She knows. God,” said Nix, adjusting her hold on Eve.
Then a moment later she said, “Chong . . . very slowly, see if you can get a bottle of that stuff out of your pocket. Benny, you get my gun.”

“What—?”

“Do it.”

Benny lowered his sword as slowly as he had raised it, all the time watching the lionesses. Moving as smoothly as he could, he shifted his weight toward Nix.

Now two of the lions growled.

He froze. Waited. But the lions still seemed uncertain about their prey. Nix and Chong wore cadaverine, and the wind was blowing toward the lions, which meant that the dead-flesh stink of the zoms was being blown their way too.

Great
, thought Benny,
zombies might save our lives. Weird
.

He placed his palm around the worn rubber grips of the revolver. He could feel the heat from Nix’s body, and there was a slight tremor running through her. She looked calm, but she was clearly as nervous as he was. In a weird way he found that comforting and disturbing at the same time. Benny thought he had begun to understand Nix by the time they left Gameland, but over the intervening weeks he felt she’d changed, and he wasn’t sure he quite got this new Nix. She was stronger, much more confident, more decisive, but also more inward and acid-tongued.

“I have it,” said Chong, and immediately the carrion stench of fresh cadaverine filled the air.

The closest lion suddenly roared in anger. Chong yelped and dropped the bottle, which bounced and vanished into the grass.

“Oh . . . crap,” said Benny and Chong at the same time.

The lioness took a threatening step toward them. Both of the smaller lions lowered themselves into attacking crouches.

“The gun,” growled Nix.

Benny took a breath. All he had to do was pull the gun out of the holster, thumb off the safety, point it at the big female, and fire. It could all be done in one smooth move. They’d all practiced it, and even if he wasn’t as good a shot as Nix, the target was big.

“Nix—get ready to run,” he said. “Ready? Three, two, one!”

He whipped out his hand, gripped the pistol, and yanked as hard as he could.

He was lightning fast, his hand closed perfectly around the pistol butt; he had the strength and the timing exactly right.

But the safety strap was still snapped in place.

The sudden jerk nearly pulled Nix off her feet. She yelped as one hip was yanked upward, and she lost her grip on Eve. Chong dove to catch her, but the action jolted the little girl awake.

Eve saw the lions and screamed.

The lions roared.

The big female suddenly launched herself forward, tearing across the flat ground toward them.

“Nix!” yelled Benny. He let go of the pistol, brought his sword up, and jumped into the path of the charging animal. On either side the smaller lions roared and charged.

I’m going to die
.

But then there was a huge
crack!
and Benny felt something burn past his cheek.

The charging lion shrieked and skidded to a stop, shocked
by the sound. Benny couldn’t tell if she had actually been hit by Nix’s bullet. The other lions froze, looking from the prey to the lioness and back again.

Nix shouldered Benny out of the way as she pointed the smoking pistol at the leader of this pack of killers.

The big female roared in fury.

The smaller lions roared.

Even the male bellowed out a roar of bloodlust and anger.

Only Eve’s supersonic shrieks were louder.

The lions began moving forward again, but this time they crept along, angry but wary. Every muscle in their bodies was etched with tension.

In a moment of crystal clarity, Benny realized that even though they might smell like zoms, what they were doing was not zombie behavior. Skilled predators would know this. Would it deter the lions, or would it hasten their own deaths?

Nix wasn’t waiting to find out. She fired again, and this time the lioness jerked suddenly to the left, her hunting cry punched into a different shape—high and plaintive. And angry.

Very, very angry.

Once again the lions froze in place.

The two smaller cats were only twenty feet away. A few more leaps and they would have been among Benny and his friends with claws and fangs. However, their attack had been stalled by the sharp noises and the suddenness of their leader’s hesitation. They turned to look at her. Benny could see blood on the big cat’s shoulder, but if the animal was seriously injured, it didn’t show. Still, she did not immediately renew her attack; instead she began pacing in front of them.
Her tail whipped back and forth in irritation, and with each turn she bared her fangs at them.

Nix trembled with mingled fear and effort as she tracked the lion with the gun.

“Benny . . . ,” she breathed.

Eve kept screaming.

“Hush!” barked Nix, and her tone was so commanding that it even silenced the watching lions for a moment; and the big female paused for half a heartbeat in her pacing. Eve lapsed into a sniffling, watching, quivering silence, her fists knotted in Chong’s shirt.

Nix’s lips barely moved as she asked, “What do I do now?”

“Shoot it!” urged Chong.

“I can’t. I only have three bullets left. The rest are in my backpack.”

Benny swallowed. The pistol was a six-shot revolver, but Tom had taught them to keep only five rounds in the cylinder, with the hammer resting on an empty chamber in case of unexpected jolts. The backpack was hanging on the tree.

“Did you hit it both times?” Benny demanded, squinting to study the animal’s fur.

The lion kept pacing, assessing them, eyes narrowed, teeth bared, tail switching with fury.

“No. I missed the first time because someone almost got in the way of my shot.”

“Oh,” said Benny.

“I got her the second time,” continued Nix, “but she doesn’t look hurt.”

“She’s bleeding,” Benny said hopefully.

The lion continued to pace.

“She’s not even limping. Can’t stop four lions with three bullets.”

The smaller ones continued to crouch and glare; and the big male was now on his feet. He might not have been part of the hunt, but he looked more than ready to use his mass and muscle to protect his mate.

“Nix,” said Chong as he shifted to put his body between Eve and the cats, “try and kill the big one. Use a couple of shots.”

“Why?” Benny and Nix both asked.

“It might scare the others off.”

Benny thought about the funeral for Morgie’s dad. Even though they had just buried a person, everyone hung around the Mitchell house for hours to eat and drink. He had an image of the other lions doing the same right now, and he did not particularly want to be grief snacks for hunting cats that shouldn’t even be on this continent in the first place.