Flesh & Bone (37 page)

“Holiness,” she said, a little breathlessly, “we got a problem.”

“Tell me.”

“Saint John and Brother Peter just had a long chat with Brother Eric.”

“What kind of ‘chat’?”

“The bad kind. They hung parts of Eric from the trees,” said Caitlyn, her color bad. “The way they do when they’re serious about finding out stuff.”

They walked a few paces in silence.

Brother Alexi ground his teeth. “Eric knew damn near everything.”

“He knew a lot,” agreed Mother Rose. “But not everything.”

“How’d they tumble to us so fast?” asked the giant.

Sister Caitlyn shook her head. “I don’t think any of us went to him.”

“They could have had someone watching from the woods when we met at the shrine,” said Alexi. “Plenty of places to hide and—”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Mother Rose. “What does matter is that Saint John knows.”

“This sucks,” grumped Alexi. “I had a nice little timetable for working the new agenda into the army. Real subtle, too. I have a list of all the right people to talk to. The ones who could influence whole groups within the army. Damn.”

Mother Rose said nothing as they continued to walk toward the edge of the forest. Alexi and Caitlyn fell silent, but both of them looked disappointed and nervous.

Rebellion was fine, even imperative, unless they wanted to die young, which neither of them did, but going up against Saint John, Brother Peter, and the main body of the reaper army too soon . . . that promised a short and ugly future. Mother Rose’s insurrection was barely two hours old.

“We really screwed the pooch here,” said Alexi.

“No,” said Mother Rose. “We don’t need the army to take Sanctuary.”

“I’m not just worried about taking Sanctuary, Rose,” said Alexi. “But I have to admit that I’m more than a little concerned about Saint John hunting us with the main force of the reaper army. We have less than three hundred. Even without pulling in all of the legions from Wyoming and Utah, Saint John can chase us down with forty thousand knives.”

“Let him try.”

Caitlyn and Alexi stared at her. Mother Rose smiled as she let seconds fall all around them.

“But . . . ,” began Alexi, but Mother Rose cut him off.

“He has numbers,” she said, “but we have something else. Don’t you think it’s time that the Shrine of the Fallen yields up its mysteries?”

A big, ugly grin bloomed on Alexi’s dark face. “Oh . . . yes. Long past time.”

Mother Rose placed her fingertips on his chest over his heart. “You know what to do, my love. Caitlyn and I will gather the rest of our chosen ones and march on Sanctuary. Take a dozen fighters and go to the shrine. Follow as quick as you can.”

Alexi took her hand and kissed it. Then he turned and began growling orders to twelve of the toughest chosen. Together they vanished into the woods.

Confused, Caitlyn asked, “Mother . . . what’s at the shrine?”

Mother Rose’s smile was small and cold. “A power that not even Saint John, with all of his power, can hope to withstand.”

With that she turned and signaled to her chosen, who followed her on the way to Sanctuary.

76

“N
IX
!”
YELLED
B
ENNY
. “G
ET BACK
!”

He shoved her out of the way and brought his sword up in a two-handed grip.

As Nix fell, the match winked out, plunging the room into total darkness.

“Match—match—MATCH!” shrieked Benny.

Suddenly another match flared, and Benny crouched in the corridor between the stacks of crates, sword raised, feet braced, ready to fight to the death to buy Nix enough time to get out and climb down to safety.

The zoms stared at Nix and Benny.

Benny backed up a pace, edging toward the hatch.

Gray eyes, milky and dead, were focused on the two teenagers. They moaned with aching hunger. A strange moan, muted and low.

And they did not attack.

Nix screamed once more and then stopped.

Benny stopped trying to back away.

The zoms stared at them with unyielding need, but they did not move.

And the moment held.

“Benny—?”

All Benny could do was stare.

“Benny,” demanded Nix. “What is—what is—?”

She fell silent too.

The zoms were still seated in their chairs.

Benny licked his dry lips and took a tentative step forward. Toward the zoms. Their eyes shifted to follow him.

The zoms themselves, however, did not.

They could not.

And now Benny could see why. They were all secured to the chairs by rope looped around their ankles, wrists, waists, and throats.

And every mouth had been sewn shut with silver wire.

“Are you seeing this?” Benny whispered.

Nix nodded mutely.

Benny sagged back, sick and disgusted down to a level he could not frame into words. This was so . . . weird, so wrong. So horrible.

On one level he understood the logic of it. Zoms that can’t move or bite are safer. They can be handled without as much fear of the contagion.

But this was . . . awful.

Benny heard Nix retch. Then she spun away and threw up behind the packing cases. When she was done, she leaned heavily against the crates, eyes closed, chest heaving. Beads of sweat like tiny diamond chips glistened on her face. She pushed roughly away from him and then turned warily back toward the ghastly scene before them.

“What,” she gasped, “is this? This is crazy. This is wrong.”

“I know,” Benny said weakly. He stared at the zoms. Each of them had a network of thin wires wrapped around their
heads, with sockets drilled into their sinuses, ears, and foreheads. God only knew what that was for.

Nix found a blank writing tablet on one of the crates, rolled it up, and lit it. It was a small torch, but better than holding a match. She held it up as they moved carefully down the corridor, looking at every zom, making sure each one was securely lashed in place.

“If any of them as much as twitches, I’m going to punch a Benny-shaped hole right through the wall,” he said.

“Just don’t get in my way,” said Nix.

The muted moan of the zoms followed them.

“God,” she said, “I can’t stand to look at them.”

“I know.”

Benny saw a row of blue boxes against one wall and sidled past the front row of seated zoms. Each box was labeled:

HOPE 1

AMERICAN NATION BIOLOGICAL RESEARCH AND TESTING FACILITY

FIELD RESEARCH & RECORDS

There were over eighty boxes.

“Lot of research,” he murmured.

“What?” asked Nix from across the bay.

Benny turned away. “Nothing,” he said. “Just junk. Let’s get the heck out of here.”

They crept past the zoms again, hurried down the corridor, and stepped into the hatch. Nix dropped the torch and stamped it out as Benny pulled the door shut.

They peered over the edge of the hatch, saw only empty
desert and the sparse forest, and climbed down the plastic sheeting.

“Let’s go,” said Nix as she swung her leg over the edge.

“I’ll be down in a sec,” said Benny as he fished his matches out of his vest pocket. “There’s plenty of wax here. I’m going to reseal the doors. Maybe they won’t know we’ve been in here.”

Nix nodded and began climbing down. “Don’t take too long.”

It wasn’t difficult work. Benny used some dried twigs from among the debris to hold the flame, and he picked up all the wax he could find and dribbled it over the handles, then pressed the red ribbons back in place. The original job had been thorough but not neat, and his finished product looked about the same. He nodded, satisfied, then ground the burning twig underfoot and moved to the open hatch.

He was just about to call Nix’s name when he heard her scream.

Benny saw why.

She stood in the clearing near where they had exited the forest earlier, but she was not alone.

She was surrounded by a dozen reapers.

77

S
AINT
J
OHN STOOD ON A ROCKY OUTCROP THAT OFFERED AN EXCELLENT
view of the forest, the plateau, and the surrounding desert. Brother Peter and other trusted reapers had come and gone a dozen times over the last hour, bringing him information on everything that happened inside the forest.

“Observe only,” Saint John had instructed them. “Do not be seen, and do not interfere until you have talked to me.”

These reapers were his, heart and soul, and they obeyed without question. They were also very smart and highly trained. They moved like ghosts and they watched like owls. For some of them it was hard not to take action. It was as if the knives at their belts ached to open red mouths in every person who moved under the desert sun.

As his reapers brought him pieces of the strange puzzle, Saint John assembled them into a picture whose image did not entirely surprise him, though it saddened him, threatening to break his heart.

So many things happening at once.

Riot had been spotted. Carter’s daughter, Eve, and an unknown heretic—a Chinese boy whose body was wrapped in bandages—were with Riot, sharing a quad with her. They
were heading by a circuitous route toward the Shrine of the Fallen.

The ranger, Joe, had also been seen. A dozen reapers had fled from him rather than lay down their own lives to send that sinner into the darkness. Saint John would have Brother Peter re-educate them in some matters of faith.

The ranger, it seemed, was also heading toward the shrine.

And two children had been seen climbing into the shrine itself. A red-haired girl with a scarred face and a boy with Japanese eyes.

Nyx and her knight.

That was a piece of the puzzle Saint John did not yet understand. Several intriguing possibilities occurred to him, each of them dependent on whether this Nyx was a true manifestation of Thanatos’s mother on earth. If she was something false, perhaps a demon of one of the old religions, then things could turn against God’s will. Saint John would send Brother Peter to learn the truth.

Brother Peter came to join him.

“Honored One, I sent a hundred runners out,” he said. “It will take at least a week to gather everyone from Utah and the other states.”

“That is good. We will leave coded signs so they may follow us.”

The young man nodded toward the line of red mountains that separated the forest from the vast desert.

“Sanctuary is so close,” he said, amazed. “All this time, so close.”

“We were not meant to find it sooner than now.”

Brother Peter glanced at him. “We’ve looked for it so long. . . . ”

“And in doing so we’ve put our own desires before the will of our god. The fact that its location was withheld from us is proof that God had other work for us.”

“But . . . we can take it. We have the numbers.”

“All things in their time,” said the saint with mild reproof in his voice.

Brother Peter placed his hand on his wings and bowed. “Forgive a sinner, Honored One.”

Saint John patted his shoulder.

They both looked off toward the northeast.

“Nine towns,” murmured Saint John.

“Nine towns,” agreed Peter.

“When we come back this way,” said the saint, “our army will have grown. Remember, we are not seeking a battle—the lord of the darkness simply wants a victory. A knife will accomplish this, but a tsunami will do it more surely.”

“Ah,” said Brother Peter, getting it now. “And what of Mother Rose?”

“She craves Sanctuary. The thought of it has corrupted her.” He sighed. “The darkness does not know her anymore.”

78

B
ENNY FROZE
. H
E WAS UP IN THE HATCHWAY OF THE AIRPLANE, AND
N
IX
was down on the ground. She had a pistol with two bullets, he had a sword.

There were at least a dozen reapers, not to mention Brother Alexi. Nix had her pistol out in a flash, the hammer thumbed back, barrel pointed down at her side.

“You lose your way, missy?” asked the giant. “Can’t find your friend Carter in all these big, bad woods?”

“Look, mister,” replied Nix, “I don’t know who you are or what you want. Just leave me alone.”

“I think we’re already past that. You’re where you shouldn’t be, maybe seeing things you shouldn’t see, and that’s a real problem for me.”

“I didn’t touch anything of yours,” Nix said. She kept the pistol pointing down, but Benny could tell that everyone in the clearing was aware of it. None of them made a move toward her.

The giant grinned. “And I suppose all those papers stickin’ out of your pockets are just homework? Or maybe notes to your boyfriend?”

“Just leave me alone.”

Alexi shook his head. He hoisted his hammer and laid it
across one massive shoulder. “Two ways we can play this. You be nice and hand me those papers, or I take them off of you. You won’t like it the second way.”

Even up in the plane Benny could hear the other reapers laugh. Benny couldn’t tell whether that was because these reapers were different or because the woman, Mother Rose, wasn’t here. At the moment, the people with Brother Alexi just seemed like a group of thugs.

Nix suddenly raised the pistol and pointed it at the giant’s chest.

“If anyone tries to touch me, I’ll kill you,” she said.

“Won’t stop us from getting the papers, missy,” Alexi said. “Go ahead and pull the trigger, sweet cheeks. My chosen ones will leave pieces of you along thirty miles of road.”

“You won’t be there to see it,” growled Nix, and the giant gave an appreciative laugh.

Benny knew that this situation was going to fall apart any second. Even if Nix shot the giant, she had only two bullets left, and then it would be her with a bokken against a dozen killers with knives and swords. He almost swung his leg out to start climbing down.

Almost.

But an idea stopped him.

Knives and swords.

He reached up and touched the sword he carried, thought about it, shook his head, and instead drew his knife.

This is the stupidest thing you’ve ever done
, he told himself.