“Maybe. That don’t make me sleep any better at night.”
She reached over and stroked Eve’s hair.
“I got wind of the reapers planning on making a move on her town. Treetops it was called. I’d been there a few times with the scavengers. Nice folks, so I tried to get there in time to warn people, but I was about four hours too late. All I could do was offer to lead the survivors to Sanctuary.”
“You left out one part,” said Chong. “What happened to your dad?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. Saint John and Mama said he up and left one night. Just took off . . . but I don’t believe that. I think they killed him.”
“Why?”
Riot gave him a hard look. “If you’re running a church based on killing everyone who’s still sucking air, do you really want a doctor around? Pa was all about some oath when he was in medical school. He was all about saving lives . . . so I guess he had to go.”
“I’m sorry,” said Chong, and he meant it. “It . . . it must be lonely for you.”
“Well, it’s the end of the world, you know? Kinda sucks for everyone.”
Chong smiled a bitter little smile. “Yeah, I really get that.”
Riot studied his face for several thoughtful seconds. “I don’t know much about medicine,” she admitted, “’cept how to patch a busted leg or stitch a knife cut, take out the occasional arrow. Point is, I know where we might be able to get some help.”
“Help? Come on, Riot, we both know how this ends. I get sicker and sicker and then I die. And then you . . . well, then you take care of me. There’s no variation on that story. Everyone who gets infected dies.”
At that last word, Eve gave a soft whimper of protest and buried her head against his chest. Chong stroked her hair. He wanted to do the same thing she was doing—curl up in a fetal position and hope the world would just go away.
“Chong, listen to me,” insisted Riot. “I think I should take you to Sanctuary.”
“And what exactly is Sanctuary? Is it just a bunch of way-station monks or . . . ?”
Riot looked away for a moment, debating with herself about something. When she turned back, her face was even more tense. “Sanctuary is a lot of different things to different people,” she said. “For some—people like . . . ” Instead of naming Carter, she nodded to Eve, and Chong understood. “For folks runnin’ from the reapers, Sanctuary’s just that. A safe place. It’s squirreled away pretty good, and it’s got some natural defenses. Mountains and suchlike. Hard as all get-out to find.”
“It’s a settlement?”
“To some,” she said. “Mostly it’s a kind of hospital, and I want to take little Evie there. I’m not going to be any good taking care of her, and she’s going to be hurtin’ for a long spell. There’s a bunch of monks who look after people.”
“Way-station monks? I’ve met some. The call themselves the Children of God, and they refer to the gray people as the Children of Lazarus.”
“Right, right. Well, they made Sanctuary their own place, and they take in the sick and injured and tend to them.”
“Are they actual doctors?”
“They’re not,” she said, but Chong caught the slight emphasis on “they’re.”
“Are . . . there other doctors there?”
“Kind of.”
“And you think they could help me?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “But if anyone can, they’s the ones.”
“Okay, then let’s go.”
“Well, there’s a bit of a hitch,” she said slowly, looking almost pained.
“What hitch?”
“If they let you into that other place . . . not the part with the monks, but the part where they can maybe help you . . . ”