Benny shrugged and forgot the balloon as he resumed his search for Nix.
Finally he asked Sister Hannahlily if she knew anything, and the nun confirmed that Nix and Lilah had been attacked by the living dead. From the disapproving look on the nun’s face, Benny knew that the attacking zoms had been quieted. The way-station monks and nuns opposed violence in all forms, especially against the “Children of Lazarus.” They considered it sinful to harm the mindless dead. She did not say as much, but her feelings were written on her pinched features.
“Is she okay?” asked Benny urgently. “Nix. And Lilah, too. Are they okay?”
The nun hesitated. “They were not physically injured.”
“But—?”
“But they were both very upset. Perhaps the weight of their actions was too much for them.”
And maybe bright blue monkeys will fly out of my butt, thought Benny, but he left it unsaid. “Where are they?”
“In the women’s dormitory,” said Sister Hannahlily.
“Can you—”
“They’ve had a hard day, young brother,” said the nun. “If you care for them, allow each of the girls adequate time to reflect on her actions, and to look inward for forgiveness from God.”
Benny tried fifteen different ways to convince Sister Hannahlily that he needed to get a message to the girls. He might as well have been trying to convince a zom to juggle and tell jokes.
“Perhaps an evening of quiet reflection and prayer would do you some good as well,” said the nun. With that she turned and headed toward the chapel tent for evening prayers.
Benny went to the women’s dormitory doorway, but the nun on guard there was a gargoyle-faced bruiser named, of all things, Sister Daisy. She listened to Benny without a flicker of expression, then told him to go away. She did not actually threaten physical harm—she was after all, a nun—but there was such palpable menace in her voice that Benny felt himself dwindle. He crept away.
He ate alone and went outside for a walk along the trench. There were so many things to consider and process. As the sun fell behind the mountains, the desert transformed from hot tan and burning red to a soft, cool purple. Benny came upon a huddled shape seated alone on the edge of the trench. He was ten feet away when he heard the sound of muffled sobs.
“Riot—?”
The figure straightened, and Riot turned a puffed and tear-streaked face toward him. She sniffed. “Hey, Benny.”
Benny came and sat down next to her. “You okay?”
She sniffed again. “?’Bout as good as I look, I suppose.”
“Can I help?”
“Not unless y’all got a time machine or a magic wand.”
“I wish.”
They watched the sky darken from purple to bottomless black. Stars ignited one after the other, and soon the ceiling of the universe burned with a million points of light.
“Your mom . . . ?” Benny ventured.
But Riot shook her head. “That’s part of it.”
“Eve?”
“That poor little girl,” Riot said in a tiny voice that was too fragile to hold back the tide of sobs.
“Shhh,” soothed Benny, “she’s safe now. She’ll be okay.”
“No, she won’t,” said Riot. “No . . . oh, Benny, I can’t stand it. She’s so lost. She’s all alone in the dark and I can’t reach her. No one can. They killed her. Damn them to hell, but they killed that sweet little girl.”
The sobs overwhelmed Riot, and the sound of her weeping came close to breaking Benny’s heart. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her against his chest. He wanted to say something—anything—that might pull Riot back from her pain, but really . . . what was there to say? Her mother had been a monster and was now a zombie. Eve’s mother and father had been murdered, and Eve was so badly broken that there might not be a way to mend her.
She’s all alone in the dark and I can’t reach her.