Benny looked around at all the people who’d come to the party. He saw Fluffy McTeague—for once without his pink carpet coat—talking with Captain Strunk and Sally Two-Knives. Solomon Jones was grilling steaks on a fire pit made from an old fifty-gallon drum that had been split down the middle. The two surfer dudes, J-Dog and Dr. Skillz, had started a make-it-up-as-you-go game called “goofball,” and they had half the kids in town running around and laughing.
Mayor Kirsch and his wife, Fran, sat at the head table, drinking beers and listening to Captain Joe Ledger explain how he’d survived that day after the fall of Sanctuary. Benny had heard the story. There wasn’t a whole lot to it—zoms, even the fast ones, can’t eat through a helicopter. The ranger simply waited them out, chowing on military-issue ready-to-eat meals and singing old blues songs until the staff from the blockhouse were sufficiently recovered to rescue him. It was a long five days. He said that the hardest part of it all was the fact that neither he nor Grimm could step outside to relieve themselves. Joe said the helicopter had to be cleaned out with a high-pressure hose.
The zoms at Sanctuary were all gone, collapsed into rotting heaps as the mutagen burned through them.
At the same table, Dr. McReady and Colonel Reid sat and listened and nodded. The doctor had brought enough of the mutagen to give the Freedom Riders a lot of work—spreading the chemical and then dealing with the faster, though doomed, zoms. Everyone’s best guess was that the zoms would be a problem for years. Maybe decades. There were, after all, seven billion zombies in the world. No one was dropping their guard. There would still be gates and fences and doors and fear.
It would end one day, though.
As for the infected like Chong . . . there was heartbreak there. McReady was working on a real cure, but who knew how long that would take. Or if there ever would be a cure. Until then, Chong took his pills and he lived a careful life. But he lived.
The colonel must have felt Benny’s eyes on her, because she turned and looked at him. They nodded to each other.
Before leaving Sanctuary, Nix had asked the colonel not to forget the people in the Nine Towns. It was as much a challenge as a plea, and the officer had risen to it. Two days after the surrender of the reapers, the morning sky had been shaken by the thunder of helicopter rotors.
Forty of them.
Colonel Reid’s people had managed to fix one of the radios, and she’d sent an urgent call to the nearest American Nation base. Her call was passed all the way up to the commander of the army and then to the president, Sarah Fowler. Reid had begged for help to stop the reapers from destroying the Nine Towns. For help in protecting citizens of the new nation, even those who had become disenfranchised and almost forgotten. There was almost a full day of inaction as the highest ranking military advisers and the political advisers wrangled over it. But in the end, Reid’s plea hit its mark. The Air Cavalry was dispatched. Had things worked out differently, those helicopters would still have arrived too late to save Mountainside, but they would have been able to save the other towns.
Instead the army’s role was not combative but administrative. They helped process the tens of thousands of reapers.
That was an awkward part of this, Benny knew. Many of the reapers claimed to have sided with Saint John only out of fear for their own lives. But there were still some true believers among them. These zealots refused to lay down their arms or remove their wings. There were some clashes, a few skirmishes, but the army, backed by the Freedom Riders, won out. The surviving zealots were not imprisoned or executed—Solomon and Benny argued ferociously for this, pushing hard on the message that the time for killing was over. Instead these reapers would be transported to islands off the California coast. They would be given some simple tools, seed for planting, and materials for building shelters. As long as they wore the angel wings of the Night Church, they were barred from setting foot on the mainland.
“They’ll sneak off the island and come back,” said Nix as they watched the helicopter transports lift off.
Benny did not think so. What he feared—what saddened him to think about—was that those lost souls would find a different escape. Into the darkness through mutual murder and suicide.
The rest of the reapers were given a choice. They could join the construction teams who were rebuilding New Haven and Reclamation, or they could enlist in the American Nation’s Rebuild Now corps and work to spread the mutagen and reclaim the zombie-occupied territories. The only other choice was to join the zealots on the islands.
Not one of them chose exile.
It would be impossible to ever identify former reapers who had killed in the name of Thanatos, but when Benny watched these new “citizens” at work and saw the passion with which some of them helped to heal the damage done . . . he thought he knew. For many, the question of redemption would be a very personal thing.
Over the weeks since the Battle of Mountainside, the American Nation sent more troops, engineers, medical teams, and others to help integrate the Nine Towns into the new country.
The war was over.
Maybe all wars were over. Just as the old world was over. The new world wasn’t going to be built on a foundation of misery and pain.
Solomon Jones, head of the Freedom Riders, was appointed by President Fowler to serve as the interim governor of California. His first act was to appoint Sally Two-Knives as his lieutenant. Benny wondered how that would look in some future history book.
Someone snapped fingers under his nose, and he realized that people had been speaking to him while his mind wandered. He turned to Chong. “What?”
“I said the new Zombie Cards come out tomorrow.”
“Big whoop.”
“We’re all on them,” said Morgie. “Even me.”
“Let me rephrase that . . . big freaking whoop.”
“We saw the proofs the other day,” said Chong. “I look heroic . . . though they’re still making my skin look too green.”
“That’s because you’re a half-zee,” said Morgie. Lilah punched him on the arm. Very hard.
“Owww.”
“He’s not a zombie,” she said.