Fire and Ash (Benny Imura 4) - Page 37

Eventually, though, his impatience ran faster than his fascination with the display of martial arts. Benny cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “Hey—Joe!”

Grimm gave him a single, scolding bark.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” said Benny.

Benny could almost swear that the dog cocked one eyebrow in wry amusement.

Finally Joe stepped back from the bag, chest heaving, sweat running in lines down his body and limbs. His face was flushed a deeper red than his sunburn, and his eyes were bright. He no longer looked hungover.

“Hey, kid, what’s shaking?” asked Joe as he took a canteen from where it rested atop a stack of cinder blocks, unscrewed the cap, and took a long pull. There was no alcohol stink, and Benny was pleased to see that the canteen was filled with water rather than any “hair of the dog” booze. Joe seemed to sense something of that and grinned. “Best way to clean the system out is a lot of water and the kind of workout that gets the blood pumping.”

“Or you could stay sober.”

Joe peered at Benny while he took another long pull. “You’re kind of a pain in the ass, anyone ever tell you that?”

“It’s come up in conversation.”

“No doubt. So,” said Joe as he raised the canteen for another drink, “to what do I owe the honor of your company?”

Benny said, “A reaper tried to kill me today.”

Joe spat water halfway across the enclosure. “What? Where?”

“Out at the plane.”

“At the plane?” Joe yelled. “What in the wide blue hell were you doing out there?”

“Not dying, thanks for asking,” Benny shouted back.

Joe pointed a finger at Benny. “I thought I told you kids not to go anywhere near that plane.”

“You did,” agreed Benny. “I ignored you. Mostly because I don’t remember you being the boss of me. When did that happen?”

“When you met a responsible adult,” thundered Joe.

“Really?” returned Benny acidly. “Responsible adult? That’s a joke. Almost every adult we’ve met since we left home has been one kind of psychopath or another. Bounty hunters who tried to make us fight in the zombie pits at Gameland. Nutjob loners who like putting people’s heads on their gateposts. Way-station monks who think the zoms are the meek who are supposed to inherit the earth. Scientists who lock themselves in a blockhouse and won’t even talk to us. Reapers who are trying to kill everyone, and you—whatever you are. Joe Action Figure. Don’t lecture me on ‘responsible adults.’ Me and my friends—the kids you’re talking about—we haven’t started fights with anyone. We’re not trying to push our religious views on anybody, and we’re not trying to take what anyone else has. And just because we’re teenagers doesn’t mean that we can’t make good decisions and take care of ourselves. We’re not little kids anymore. We’ve had to grow up a lot in the last few months. A whole lot. We came out here to find proof that the people of your generation haven’t actually destroyed everything that was ever worth anything. Why? Because your story might be over, but ours isn’t. I just hope that when we become adults we’re not as vicious, violent, and destructive as most of the so-called adults we’ve met out here in the Ruin. ’Cause I’m here to tell you, Joe, we could use some better role models.”

Joe sucked his teeth. “You finished?”

“No. The reaper who attacked me was also an adult.”

Grimm gave a throaty whuff.

Joe shot the dog an evil look. “Who asked you to take sides?” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and said, “Okay, okay, so life’s been hard for you, kid, I get it. Later on we can sit down and cry a little. Right now, though, how about you stop making speeches and tell me what happened at the plane? Actually, no. First tell me how you got away? And where’s the reaper now?”

“He’s dead.”

“How—?”

Benny looked him straight in the eye. “I killed him.”

Joe said, “What?”

“I killed him. He came at me with a knife. I . . . had no choice.”

“Ah, jeez, kid.” Joe sat down heavily on the stack of cinder blocks. “Look, Ben, I’m glad you’re okay, and I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

It was not the response Benny had expected. He thought there would be more yelling, or some booyah crap about the glory of combat. Instead Joe looked genuinely sad. It confused Benny.

Tags: Jonathan Maberry Benny Imura
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