39
THERE WAS ONE THING THEY had to do first, and it was Nix who said it. They stood in the shade behind the mess hall.
“We have to tell Lilah,” Nix said, and Benny winced.
“Good luck with that,” murmured Riot.
Any conversation with Lilah was difficult. The Lost Girl had spent many years living alone and wild in the Ruin, killing zoms and preying on the bounty hunters working for Charlie Pink-eye and the Motor City Hammer. During those long years she had had no personal contact at all. No conversations, no interactions. Not even a hug, a handshake, or a kind word; and in that social vacuum she’d grown strange. Even now, after months of living with the Chong family in Mountainside, training with Tom, and traveling with Nix, Benny, and Chong on their search for the jet, Lilah was still strange. It was impossible to predict exactly how she would react to anything, though any bet laid a little heavier on the possibility of a violent reaction had a better chance of a return. For a while she’d started coming out of her shell when, against all logic and probability, she and Chong had fallen in love—but with Chong’s injury and infection, Lilah had gotten stranger still. She rarely spoke, and when she did, it was brief and terse. Benny doubted that he’d exchanged as many as two hundred words with Lilah in the last three weeks.
“She won’t want to leave here,” said Nix. “I think she believes that the only reason they haven’t quieted Chong is
because they’re afraid of how she’ll react.”
“That ain’t altogether a stupid fear,” said Riot. “When grown men with guns are afraid of a girl with a spear, then there’s something to take a close look at.”
Benny nodded, though he had a separate concern about Lilah. He was afraid of what she would do to herself if Chong died. Lilah was emotionally damaged and was caught in a prolonged anger phase of the grief process. Her little sister had been killed, her guardian had been murdered, Tom had been murdered, and now Chong lingered in a twilight between life and death. Benny didn’t know how much more life could push Lilah before she snapped. He’d said as much to Nix, and when he glanced at her, he could see it in her eyes. Neither of them said it aloud—Riot was a friend, but she wasn’t yet part of their family.
“I’ll tell her,” said Nix.
Benny shook his head. “If she gets even a whiff of—”
“Of what? Of me saying that Chong should be quieted? That was before, Benny. I said that before I went down and looked at him.”
“I’m just saying . . .”
“I got your back, Red,” said Riot. “Question is . . . where is she? She’s usually walking the trench line, but I don’t—”
There was a soft sound above them, and they suddenly turned and looked up to see Lilah perched like a hunting hawk on the raised corrugated metal shutter over the mess hall window. She peered down at them from between her bent knees, and only the tip of her spear rose above the shadows into the sunlight. Lilah’s eyes looked as black and bottomless as those of a skull.
“Lilah . . . ,” gasped Nix.
Benny instinctively shifted to stand between Nix and Lilah.
“Listen, Lilah, I can explain.”
The Lost Girl hopped forward and straightened her lithe body as she dropped to the ground. It was a ten-foot drop, but she landed easily, though there was a twitch of a grimace on her tight mouth—the only concession to the wound she’d suffered less than a month ago. She’d badly gashed her cheek and jaw while escaping from a white rhinoceros and a field of crippled zoms. Injury or not, the expression in her eyes was fierce. Deadly.
“God,” breathed Nix. Riot pulled her slingshot. Benny’s hand darted toward the handle of his sword.
Lilah walked forward a few paces, ignoring Riot. She got to within inches of Benny.
“Move,” she said.
“Lilah,” Benny said, holding his ground, “you don’t understand—”
But it was Nix who moved. She stepped out from behind Benny, pushing him gently out of the way. She was much shorter than Lilah and more than a year younger. Her weapons were holstered and sheathed, and her hands were empty.
“What did you hear?” she asked.
“Everything.” Without the shadows to mask her face, Lilah’s eyes were the color of molten honey. Hot, but without any trace of sweetness. “You wanted to quiet Chong.”
Nix took a breath. Benny could see that her hands were shaking.
“Yes,” she said.
“Is that why you went to see him?”
“No.”