Monsters (Ashes Trilogy 3)

“What?” Jayden said, wildly. “What?”

“Nothing,” he said, feeling the sudden tension drain. When they made the decision to stop a few hours ago, the eastern horizon had been only a silver smudge. Now bright sun stabbed through trees. He scrubbed his face with his hands. “Sorry. I was having a bad dream and—”

“You have a lot of bad dreams,” Ellie said, curtly. She gave the dog a hip-butt and began picking up scattered branches and twigs. “I thought we could have tea before we leave.”

“Here.” Chris made a move to get up. “Let me help.”

“I can do it.” Ellie snatched a branch out of reach. “I’m fine.”

“Okay. Sure.” When Ellie didn’t reply, he looked over at Jayden. “Sorry about that.”

“She’s right. You do have a lot of bad dreams.” Yawning, Jayden kicked out of his bag, stood, then grabbed his back. “Man, I knew there was a reason God invented the bed . . . Nope, sorry.” He held up a hand. “I didn’t say that. Don’t tell me you didn’t ask me to come—”

“Well, I didn’t,” Chris said.

“Because I’ll tell you where to shove it,” Jayden said.

“Where the sun doesn’t shine,” Ellie said, still not smiling, although Mina grinned.

“Right.” Turning, Jayden stumbled off into the woods. “Be back.”

Chris watched as Ellie first broke large twigs into smaller kindling and then pulled out her knife and began carefully fuzzing bark. “You’re good at that.”

“Alex taught me,” Ellie said, eyes fixed to her task. Ever since they’d left, the little girl spoke to him only when necessary. He hadn’t pressed. He was stunned enough she and Jayden had insisted on coming, although Jayden’s rationale he half-understood and even agreed with: It’s not just you. I knew Lena before you did, and I don’t know if I can stay with Hannah now, anyway. Ellie, on the other hand, had simply refused to budge: It’s my choice. No other explanation. At that, Hannah had been ready to spit nails. But what could she—or Chris— say? “How many more days until Rule?” Ellie asked.

“If we keep pushing? Two. No more than three, especially if the weather holds.”

“Are you going to kill her?”

He knew who she meant. “If we see her. That was the idea behind leaving.”

“I don’t know if you should. Shoot Lena, I mean. She still feels . . . different.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because I was really close, twice, and got a good look at her face. You know how the people-eaters get that hungry stare? Like they’re totally starving and you’re a hot dog? She wasn’t all the way like that. Her eyes also seemed . . .” He watched her think of the right word. “Sorry. Like my dad when he went back to Iraq? It was his job. He had no choice. I think Lena’s the same way. She’s stuck.”

“If she can’t help herself, it doesn’t matter. It’s not like she’s sick and we can wait for her to snap out of it. We don’t know if that will ever happen. It wouldn’t be right to let her go and keep hurting . . . killing other people.” Or being miserable either, although that was wishful thinking. The Lena he’d seen was wild, and she never came in his dreams as anything else.

But what is Peter?

“What if she can?” Ellie said. “Stop herself ?”

“That’s an experiment we can’t run, Ellie.”

“Okay.” The little girl’s face closed. Reaching into a parka pocket, Ellie pulled out a small plastic container and unscrewed the cap. The contents, gooey and thick, reeked of turpentine.

This was the most she’d spoken to him in days. Hoping to get her going again, Chris asked, “Did Alex teach you that, too?”

“Yeah. I found a good tree not too far away.” She used a stick to scoop out a nickel-sized dollop of pine resin. “Don’t try to make nice. I’m not talking to you.”

“Okay.” Standing, he worked cramps from his legs. “How long did you sleep?”

“Enough.” She scraped a flint over a tangle of cedar fuzz and pine needles. A shower of sparks jumped. Cupping the tinder, Ellie blew until a yellow flower blossomed, then slid the bundle beneath loosely laid twigs. “Is Peter, like, a best friend or something?”

“Yes.” There was something hypnotic about watching a fire spread. “Best friend I ever had.”

“You know him a long time?”

“No, but it feels like it.”

“Are you worried that he’s dead?”

It was a strange question. “How come you’re asking?”

Still not looking at him, she moved a single shoulder. “Because I don’t think you’re sure. You asked him just now, in your sleep.”

“It was a dream.”

“Maybe. But when you were sick? I sat with you sometimes. You talked to Peter a lot, but you were more scared of him then. Now, you’re . . .” She paused. “Sad.”

“Oh.” All of a sudden, his eyes itched. “I guess I am.”

“Are you still mad at him?” Before he could answer, she turned her brimming eyes to his. “Because the last time my daddy went to Iraq? I was mad, and he came home in a box. I was pissed at Grandpa Jack, and then he died. The last morning I saw Tom and Alex, I’d gotten mad at them, too, the night before. We made up, but . . .” A tear dribbled down one cheek.

“You didn’t make any of that happen,” he said, part of him wishing that if evil thoughts could kill, his father would’ve keeled over five years before the Night of the Hammer. On the other hand, he couldn’t have wished that hard, because he’d also lied for the bastard when the chips were down. “Were you angry at Eli?” When she shook her head, he said, “See?”

“But I’m afraid.” Her lower lip shuddered. “I’m still mad at you. I understand why . . . but don’t lie to me again, Chris. It hurts too much, and I don’t want you to die, too.”

The right thing to do would be to give her a hug, or touch her. But he didn’t want to make a mistake. “I’m not going to die,” he said, though he probably shouldn’t make promises he mightn’t keep. “I only want to try and do what’s right. I’m not into this to get myself killed.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” Jayden said, stomping from the woods. He looked as Ellie stifled a watery laugh. “What? What’d I say?” But his mouth was turned in a grin. “Oohhh,” he said, reeling the little girl in for a knuckle rub. “You thought I meant that.”