The Last Star (39 page)

He shouldered the duffel bag and walked to the door. Ben blocked the way. His face was flushed with anger.

“You’re talking about murdering thousands of innocent people.”

“What do you suggest I do, Ben?”

“Stay here. Help us. We—” He took a deep breath. This was hard for him to say. “We need you.”

“For what? You can take the night watch and tend the garden and pick up my slack on the hunts.”

“Goddamn it, Walker, what’s this about, huh?” Ben exploded in fury. “What’s this
really
about? Is it about ending a war or taking revenge? You can blow up half the world and it won’t make it right, it won’t bring her back.”

Evan remained calm. He’d heard all the arguments, many times. He’d fought these battles for months, alone, in the quiet tumult of his heart. “Two will be saved for each one I kill. That’s the math. What’s the alternative? Stay here until staying here is too dangerous, then move to another place, then another, and another, hiding, running, using the gifts they gave me to keep myself alive—for what? Cassie didn’t die so
I
could live. She died for something much bigger than that.”

Ben was shaking his head. “Right, so how about I kill you now and save tens of thousands of lives? How’s
that
math work for you?”

“You have a point.” Evan smiled. “The problem is you’re no killer, Ben. You never were.”

SAM

EVAN WALKER
on the bridge crossing the river. Evan Walker with a bag over one shoulder and a rifle over the other, shrinking.

“Where is he going?” Megan asked. Sam shook his head; he didn’t know.

They watched until they couldn’t see him anymore.

“Let’s play something,” Megan said.

“I have to finish my bunker.”

“You dig more than a mole.”

“You
are
a mole.”

“You gave Captain away.”

Sam sighed. This again. “His name isn’t Captain. And he wasn’t yours. He was mine.”

“You didn’t even ask.” Then she said, “I don’t care. Cassie can keep him. He smelled.”

“You smell.”

He left the front window and went into the kitchen. He was hungry. He grabbed his favorite book to read while he ate.
Where the Sidewalk Ends.
Evan Walker told him it was Cassie’s favorite book of all time.

If you are a dreamer, come in . . .

Evan Walker was gone.
Forever,
Zombie said. Sam didn’t want to think about that. He didn’t want to think about Cassie being gone or Dumbo or Poundcake or anyone from his old squad or his father or his mother or anyone he knew before he came here to the great big house by the river. He was pretty good at not
thinking about them most of the time. Sometimes Cassie would come into his dreams, and she would fuss at him about everything. He wasn’t clean enough. He wasn’t nice enough. He couldn’t remember things that she thought were important. In his dreams, her nose was straight and her hair longer and her clothes cleaner. In his dreams, she was the before-Cassie.

Are you being good, Sam? Are you saying your prayers every night?

One night he woke up Zombie—in his head, Sam still called him Zombie—and Zombie took him into the bathroom and washed the tears from his face and told him that he missed her, too, and then he walked Sam outside and he pointed at the sky.
See those stars up there, the ones that kind of look like a sideways W? You know what that is?

They sat on the back porch and looked at the stars while Zombie told the story of a queen named Cassiopeia who lived forever on a throne in the sky.

“But her throne’s tilted down,” Sam said, looking at the constellation. “Won’t she fall out?”

Zombie cleared his throat. “She won’t fall. Her throne is turned that way so she can keep watch over her realm.”

“What’s a realm?”

Zombie pressed his hand against Sam’s chest.

“This is.” Zombie’s hand to Sam’s heart.
“Here.”

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