Dearly, Beloved Part 30

"Yesterday Coalhouse said the Changed might be out of the city."

"But we don't know for sure."

"Exactly. So we're going to go talk to some zombies and see if anybody knows anything more. Because I want to bring them down. And I figure you and Miss Roe deserve a personal go at them. Before we see them locked up, I mean."

Nora smiled brilliantly. "Can I use my scythe?" she asked, in her breathy little voice.

"The nonpointy bits, sure." G.o.d, I loved it when she was cute as a kitten and tough as nails in the same breath. "Not to sound like a parent, but have you apologized to Ren yet? You owe him one."

"Not yet. I know I do. 'Mink's' gone silent."

"Good. Because we all need to work together on this." And with that I concentrated on the road.

The pub Ben recommended for our meeting was one street over from the Morgue, nearly hidden between two larger buildings. The sign said it was called THE FAILING LIVER. Everything about it told me it was the last place Dr. Dearly would want his daughter, but I knew we'd be perfectly safe. And the drinking age in the Territories was sixteen, so they should at least let us in.

The interior was dark and dingy. Dim yellow lanterns hung from the ceiling, boat rigging and lengths of chain tucked up in the rafters alongside them. An ancient screen sat on the western wall, showing highlights from a cricket tournament. The bar itself was in the back, while maybe ten wooden tables occupied the remaining s.p.a.ce. The place was busy, and every single patron was a zombie, save for two old folks at the bar.

When Nora entered and saw this, she grinned. She took my sleeve and guided me deeper within. A few pairs of eyes followed us. "Who are we looking for?"

"Captain Griswold! Ye found us!"

And there they were, like they said they would be. One of the tables in the back was crowded with the results of my phone calls and e-mails-a dozen former members of Company Z, including a few who hadn't been helping around the boats. They were all older than me, my squad having consisted of the youngest zombies. Sitting with them was David Braca and a couple strange undead gents, clearly his friends.

Nora ran over to them like she was a toddler and they'd just waved the biggest lollipop in the world at her. I laughed as she was greeted by Amed Hadrami, a simple but hardworking dead guy. He was in his late twenties, his skin blotchy, his build rotund. "Miss Dearly!"

Nora hugged him. "It's so good to see you!"

Heading over, I exchanged greetings myself. Everyone stood up to shake my hand, and I actually felt a bit of a lump forming in my throat. Chairs were crammed in for us, and Nora was, as before, treated like a queen. All the men wanted to know what we'd been up to, what we'd seen in our corner of the city. A zombie lady with ratty purple hair came over to see if we wanted anything, and Amed ordered, "Something really pretty," for Nora. For a second I thought maybe I should have offered-but Amed looked so happy to do it, I couldn't hold it against him.

The zombie lady peered at Nora, though. "Chip?" she asked, drawing a wallet-sized scanner out of her ap.r.o.n pocket. "Ain't no way you're sixteen."

Nora glanced at me in panic. We'd taken her ID chip out when she came to Z Beta, and she hadn't had it replaced yet. Before she could open her mouth, I said, "No, trust me, she is. Rest of the guys here'll tell you the same thing."

Amed nodded furiously. "You think I want to corrupt young'uns, Emmie? I might be dim, but I'm not that dim."

The waitress bought this, and disappeared. While we waited for the drink, I said, "This is Mr. Braca." David nodded, and introduced his men in turn. "This is Company Z." I identified my half of the table. "Guys have any trouble finding the place?"

One of the older men, a grizzled grenadier named Aberforth Sengen, shook his head. "Naw, most know this joint. Mostly dead in here now, except fer that old married couple at the bar. Rumor has it they wouldn't even leave the pub during the Siege. I think they're actually part of the bar stools. Sentient growths."

"I think we're the only Company Z-ers around here, though," Amed said. "Everyone's gone. For now or for good."

I nodded, trying to stay stoic. "I know. It's too bad."

"But it's okay. We just make the best of it. Do a lot of planning here. I'm gonna open a tailor shop, you know!" Amed smiled at me. "Because zombies sometimes need sleeves and things removed? And they sell stain protector for carpets, I could put that on people's clothes. The guy I talked to about it said you shouldn't wear it, but I don't think dead people can get cancer."

"That is an incredible idea," Nora told him. "I say go for it."

I almost hated to turn the topic to business, but I had to. "Okay, look. We need your help." I described a few of the things that had happened. When the men heard about Nora and Miss Roe their eyes narrowed.

"Aye," Aberforth said. "I been hearin' wild stories about masked kids."

"Kids?"

Aberforth snorted. "Yeah, kids. Has to be. Then again, I'm at that 'get off my lawn' stage of life."

"Were the targets you've heard about living or dead?"

"Both."

Emmie returned with a pink drink in a fluted gla.s.s for Nora. "On the house. Don't get many living in here nowadays."

Aberforth continued the conversation around her. "But I haven't seen anyone wearing bird masks."

The purple-haired zombie whipped her head around to look at him. "What, you mean those sc.u.mbags who're cutting people up?"

Soon Emmie was seated with us. "I heard they cut a live girl to shreds the other day. Lady who handles the was.h.i.+ng for my building told me. But the way she told it, they've been attacking zombies, too. In the dead of night."

"There've been so many attacks on zombies, though. This living angle's different." Edgar Kaname was almond-eyed, violet-tinged, and had slas.h.i.+ng scars along his cheeks and forehead. "And you mentioned the Grave Housers. I'm from New London, born and raised in the slums. Grave Housers are a relatively new gang."

"Oh yeah," Emmie said. "They're bad news, though."

"Their leader sounded almost Utopian. Renamed the group the Changed, was all sweetness and light. From what I heard, she was trying to run it like some kind of benevolent society."

Edgar burst out laughing. "Benevolent society? We talking about Martira Cicatriz, the Red h.e.l.lcat? She was a harridan!"

"They're supposedly out of the city by now," I shared. "But we still want to get to the bottom of this."

"Wait a sec," Aberforth said. "This wouldn't be the big group of zombies up on the Honduran border, would it? My living brother's still in the army. Said his unit got called from Fort Knife up in San Pedro to sniff around a group of zombies earlier today."

"Army? I told the cops." I froze. "They must have pa.s.sed the intel along."

"Either-or. My brother said they didn't find anything, took a couple people in hand. Should have arrested the lot, but the army's not meant to concern itself with street criminals. And what with all the troubles, the military's kind of skittish 'bout putting any but the most violent zombies at the end of a gun now. They know how the undead might react."

This should have made me feel better, but it didn't. The idea that the army might've gotten mixed up with the Changed-it didn't just scare me, it angered me. I felt like I'd led my fellow zombies to the firing squad. Risked another encounter that'd rip open a wound that still needed time to heal. "I didn't mean for that to happen."

Aberforth nodded. "Don't doubt you. Oh, and he said ... Martira? That her name? She's dead. Living killed her."

The table reacted to this news with silence. David broke it. "I'm still not sure if we're on the right track with this, though."

"The cops done anything in the Morgue?"

"No. Nothing of note. But no one has anything bad to say about the Changed."

Edgar took over. "Yeah, but this wouldn't be the first time Grave Housers hid their faces and acted like b.l.o.o.d.y monsters. Where I was raised, sometimes you'll get gangs going at it in the streets. I know Grave Housers were involved in that at least once or twice."

"And if Martira's gone," I said, "Hagens would've had room to take over. Like Laura said." Focusing my thoughts, I ventured, "So what do you think about getting as many Company Z vets together as we can-h.e.l.l, as many zombies as we can-and going after them?" I tried to accommodate David. "Or at least starting a patrol in the city?"

"You're not talking about going to war, are you? Posse versus posse?" David asked.

"No. Not enough of us for that. But maybe these people need to see that the undead aren't going to let them get away with this. That we're willing to police and protect our own-and precisely because things are so unstable." I looked at Nora. "Living allies, too. Living have already threatened to do whatever they have to do to defend their dead. Why should this be any different?"

"I'm behind the idea," Aberforth said. "But ..." He looked into my eyes, and I saw some anger there-I wasn't sure if it was directed at me or not. "Like you said. There are so few of us now."

"I know," I said. "And I'm sorry for that."

"It ain't your fault," Amed said. "All of us woulda put down our lives for Dr. Dearly, after what he did for us. And the living were scared, that's why they tried to kill us. Just don't like to remember."

"I don't blame you," Nora said. "I don't think anyone wants to fight anymore. But if people start things like this, we have to finish them."

"It's a risk for everyone," I said. I wanted to be honest with them-and myself. I had more to lose than I dared think about. That didn't mean I could step aside and let all this happen, though.

Amed nodded slowly. "Yeah." He studied Nora for a tick and then said, "I'll go."

David conversed with his friends and lifted his head. "We're in. I think the patrol idea is a good one, at least."

"We're all in," Kaname decided. Nods punctuated the end of his sentence. "And we'll see who else we can dig up. Start tomorrow night? Meet up here?"

I agreed, and thanked them-a small thing in the face of such an offer, but all I could muster up. It meant a lot to me. I felt like I'd let so many of them down. I should be making amends, not receiving favors.

Plan in place, we began our goodbyes. Amed rose to hug Nora again, and looked at me over her hat, saying, "I didn't think I'd see you again, Cap. I'm gonna make you a suit."

"Absolutely," I told him, overwhelmed. "And I'm going to pay you a hundredweight for it." He grinned.

On the way back to the car, Nora asked, "What's the next step, then?"

"Go back to the house, collect the others. Hit the streets as a group. See if the masks are gone or not. And if not?" I opened the pa.s.senger side door for her. "Give them a show."

When we got home, Renfield was waiting for us.

He strode forward from the base of the stairs, something at his side. He dropped it at my feet, and I recognized it as Nora's valise. "Forgive me, Miss Dearly. I had to go through your drawers and pack for you. I tried to handle your bloomers with two fingers only."

"What are you doing?" she said. "Is my underwear that frightening? Oh, and by the way-have you gone mental?"

"What's going on?" I asked. "Did she finally get in touch with you again?"

Ren reached into his pocket, drawing out a printed piece of paper.

zboy69: Where have you been? I've been worried sick.

AllSeeing12: Nothing dire. Had Aethernet taken away when I needed it most. My mother is like a child.

zboy69: News?

AllSeeing12: Something's going to happen this weekend. D needs to go somewhere where there are a lot of people. Might not be about her, but I think that's the best way.

AllSeeing12: I'm deleting this account now. Goodbye.

"It could be a joke," Nora reminded him, even though she looked properly creeped out. "She could be trolling, for all we know."

"We have to talk to her," I said, grabbing the printout. "This is a specific threat, an actual time ..."

"But we can't give her away!" For a moment Ren's eyes softened. "If something's truly afoot, something this serious, she's risking everything in reaching out to us. That's why I'm inclined to believe her."

I shoved the paper angrily back at him. "The boats," I decided. "The Erika. We'll take you there."

"No way am I hiding on a boat," Nora argued. "I'm safe here in the house. Besides, we have plans. You were just talking about going out to the city!"

"Just until we get more info." Turning and taking her hands, I forced her to look up at me. "Will you do this for me? Just to humor me? This is getting weird, and I just want you to be safe."

Nora screwed up her face but gave in. "For you, I'll go to the boats to discuss this."

Renfield turned to her, even as he ripped up the paper. "I'm sorry, Miss Dearly. I get the impression that you think I've sided with Miss Mink, but I'm only worried about you."

Picking up the bag, Nora said, "I know. I know you wouldn't lie about something like this. I'm sorry for earlier. It's just ... if you knew Mink, you'd realize why I'm kind of dubious. She's a bully. That's all she is!"

"Right now, her motivations don't matter." I thrust my hat back on and grabbed Nora's hand. "Ren, look after the Roes. Let's go."

26.

LAURA.

That night, the others partied.

The fires went up soon after we stopped. Some of the Changed danced and sang with abandon, their brush with the army making them boisterous. A few, angry about the zombies the army had carted away, talked about rounding up a posse to go get them. Others talked of marching to the base the army had come from and tearing it apart. The undead laughed and swore loudly, drinking whatever they had-even if the drink couldn't affect them.

Coalhouse sat mutely through all of it, glaring into the fire.

After a while I made my way over and sat beside him on a fallen tree. I wasn't sure what was wrong. I wasn't even sure if I ought to care. Things were looking more and more dire with each pa.s.sing day, and my grief was turning into apathy.

Martira would have hated me for that.

The full moon above had moved by the time he spoke. "He didn't care that I was a soldier." He looked to his half-empty cup of warm rum. "The guy back on the trail."

"Should he?"

"Yes!" Coalhouse handed me his cup and stood up. "I mean, I wasn't even a dead recruit. I was in the Punk army. You'd think they'd at least listen to me, talk to me like a freaking equal. Even if we were on different sides!"

Setting the cup down, I moved to follow him. "He didn't know."

"I told him!" Coalhouse punched one of his hands into the other. "I told the b.a.s.t.a.r.d!"