Dearly, Beloved Part 28

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 ma.s.sive 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 Martira'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 b.u.t.terfly under gla.s.s.

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 doc.u.ments, 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. 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 c.r.a.p 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 s.h.i.+ning armor, a genius, practically a G.o.d.

We pa.s.sed the time chatting. He had a lot of questions. "Why do you call that kid 'Dog'?"

"Well, he can't talk, can't write, can't read. Can't tell us his name. He took to following me around, so everyone started calling him my Dog. It stuck."

"Okay. Where'd you guys get your gang name?" Coalhouse asked. "Grave House, was it?"

"They said the gang that held the house before we did buried the bodies of their enemies under the floorboards. I don't think it's true, though." He didn't respond. "How long have you been dead?" The usual zombie how-do-you-do.

Coalhouse rested his elbow on the window ledge, driving with one hand on the wheel. "More than a year."

Nodding, I waited for him to go on. He didn't. Trying again, I asked, "Where are you from?"

"Little Punk town. Only child. My parents own a dry goods store."

"You must miss them."

"All the time."

Something in his tone told me that he wanted to ask questions, not answer them. Turning to the window, I lowered the shoulders of my gown, careful to maintain my modesty even as I offered my plants some light.

"You're literally pus.h.i.+ng up daisies," he said. I'd never thought of that, and I giggled. It was the first time I'd laughed in days, and I instantly felt guilty for it. Coalhouse smiled a little, too, before looking at my face-then he sobered and turned his eyes to the road. "Can you feel them inside of you?"

"No. I wish I could. It'd probably tickle. I think maybe the roots are messing with my legs, though. I'm not sure how to fix that. I started the whole thing on a whim."

"Huh."

"I've always had a green thumb, just no land. I used to grow flowers in pots in the den, but whenever Claudia found them ..." I studied the dirt under my fingernails. "She'd destroy them. But I like giving life to things. Like I did to Martira."

"What do you mean?"

For whatever reason, I decided to share. "Claudia and I were bitten, but Martira never was. It wasn't until later that she got the idea to drink my blood, get the Laz that way. Took it into herself one night, so she could stay with us. So we'd go together."

"She drank your blood?" Coalhouse boggled. "Willingly?"

"Yes." I looked at him. "It was the most beautiful thing she ever did. Like something out of an old book. Like a magic spell."

"Come now, child," Abuelo said, groggily speaking up. "Martira opted t'become one of us 'cause she didn't want t'be chased out of her own gang by the dead. You know she meant t'make us a mob of monsters, at first. Living woman couldn't lead that."

My voice faltered, and I wrenched myself around to look at him. "That's not true," I said, willing myself to believe it. She was gone, and I would not have anything about her altered. "She did it for me!"

Suddenly, Coalhouse slammed on the brakes. Facing backward, I was unprepared for the abrupt stop. My canteen tumbled from my lap and I wrapped my fingers around my seat belt to keep my balance. Abuelo swore. "What's goin' on?"

I looked outside. At least a score of dark, armored, official-looking carriages were outpacing us, flanking us on either side. A few of them were equipped with flas.h.i.+ng lights and sirens, and it put me in mind of the few times police raids had been conducted on the den. My chest tightened, but not with fear.

This was it. It was going to end.

"I told her," Coalhouse grunted, putting the carriage in park.

"Are they going to arrest Hagens?" I asked, a shrill note entering my voice.

"I don't know." He stared at the vehicles, then swore viciously. "Those aren't cops. That's the army!"

"What?" I turned back around. "So you didn't tell them?"

Coalhouse gave me a frightened look. "What are you talking about?"

"What's all this talk, then?" Abuelo echoed, confused.

All at once my hopes died. What was Coalhouse doing?

Dog awoke, fitful. I retrieved the canteen and poured out a lidful of water for the boy, my hands shaking. As I leaned into the back half of the carriage to give it to him, Abuelo met my eyes and mouthed, S'all right, child.

I wanted to say, No, it's not. But I only nodded.

We were in the carriage for three hours altogether. I couldn't see what was happening up ahead, but I did see army men outside, patrolling the convoy-making sure n.o.body ran away, I a.s.sumed. After a while Coalhouse began to talk again, his voice newly nervous. He told us how he'd been hunted and killed by the bald monster known as Tom, and how he'd gone on to distinguish himself in Company Z. "Hagens would tell you. She was in the army with us."

I didn't want to talk about her, and tried to change the subject. "How'd you get the name 'Coalhouse'?"

On that point, he paused. "I don't know," he admitted. "My mom just always called me that. I think he may have been an old singer." He looked at me almost shyly. "Laura's a pretty name."

Frustrated, scared, this simple compliment almost caused me to burst into angry sobs. Before I could say anything, though, someone rapped on my window. Twisting around, I saw it was a soldier.

"Let me talk," Coalhouse said as he lowered the window.

"Names?" the soldier barked. At Coalhouse's direction, we gave them.

"Laura Cicatriz?" the soldier verified, squinting at me. "Step out of the carriage, please."

"No!" Coalhouse leaned across me, and I felt my skin crawling, trying to flush. "I mean, she can't speak to a man alone."

The soldier outside put his hand to his holstered gun. "Back away, sir. And leave your window open."

"I'm ex-army, man. I can give you my ID number."

"I don't care if you're the great-great-great-great-great-grandson of Houdini. You're a b.l.o.o.d.y zombie," the soldier replied, unbuckling the holster of his gun. Coalhouse's eye widened. "Miss, exit the vehicle."

Coalhouse flashed me a worried look but did as he was ordered. I tumbled out of the broken-down carriage and took a few steps away from it, holding up my gown.

"Hands where I can see them, miss?" the soldier said. He was young and dark-haired. "No offense."

I slid my fists to the front of my stomach. "What do you want from me?"

"Just to verify some details." He held up a hand and leaned to the side, listening to a buzzing comm unit in his ear. "Sorry. Can you describe the nature of this group?"

Oh, G.o.d. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know which lies I was supposed to parrot. What had Hagens told him? What was I supposed to say?

And why was I thinking of toeing the line instead of telling him the truth? This was my chance. I should already have been screaming it at the top of my lungs, terrifying and unstoppable.

"Miss?"

I snuck a look back at the carriage. Dog was leaning out of the window, his eyes like saucers. Abuelo had him around the waist. What would happen to them if I told, now, with no plan in place? What if a fight broke out, what if the living got hurt or zombies were shot? This world was all I'd ever known. Right now it was a horrible place, but it was still all I'd ever known.

Uncertainty and fear tore like buckshot through what little courage I'd ever had.

"We're a group of peaceful zombies," I heard myself say. "We hold protests to raise awareness and gatherings to raise money."

The soldier nodded. "Why are you on the move? Where are you going?"

"North. To find a safe place to stay."

"Do you know if any amongst you has committed a crime?" I actually laughed-I couldn't help myself. "Miss?"

Despair robbed me of my ability to be vague. Looking at the soldier I said, "Where do you want me to start? There are wh.o.r.es and cons and peddlers of all sorts of things here. But ..." It almost pained me to say. "It's not illegal to protest, it's not illegal to beg. It's not illegal to be dead. The only thing I can imagine you'd want to know about is the death of my sister, Martira. She was shot in the head. And because we're criminals, we didn't report it. I'm sure you know me because someone mentioned it." I wasn't, but I played my card anyway.

The soldier eyed me, but then secured his weapon once more. "I'm sorry for your loss." And thus began the real round of questioning. Had I seen Martira's body, seen anything suspicious-I had. And I lied. I lied about it all, and hated myself for it.

At the end, the soldier dipped his head at the carriage and said, "You can go back in." I ran to it. The moment I was safely inside, everyone started questioning me. I gave them no answers. I was too heartsick to try. That'd been my opportunity. I knew I wouldn't get another.

It was Coalhouse now, or nothing.

After another hour, the soldiers left. Coalhouse and I climbed out of the carriage. Zombies started unloading from the other vehicles, stretching their legs, trading stories and angry theories, complaining about how the army had rifled through their belongings. I heard Hagens shouting my name, far off, and knew at least they hadn't taken her. No one else had betrayed her either.

When she got so close she could no longer be ignored, Coalhouse spoke up. "She's over here!" He glanced at me apologetically, and leaned against the front of his carriage.

Hagens came rus.h.i.+ng over and took me by the arms. She got right to the point. "Did you tell them anything?"

"No, she didn't," Coalhouse said. I was starting to grow truly confused. He gave me up one moment, then defended me the next. "And I told you people would come."

Hagens pushed me roughly away. "Keep it that way." She nodded at Coalhouse. "I know. We might be able to work together after all."

"Good. Army going to do anything?"

"Oh, they already have. Arrested a couple of people to question about the attempt to fetch Smoke. Which means we now have less time than I thought. We'll talk later."

Coalhouse moved closer to me as Hagens stalked away. Before he could say anything, I hobbled off as fast as my legs would take me, climbing into his carriage again and slamming the door. I wrapped my arms around my head to shut everyone out and leaned against the closed window, the gla.s.s warm from the sun.

It was only then that I noticed my shoulders were finally sprouting.