Long minutes passed, and gradually the natural sounds of the forest returned. There were plenty of birds in this part of the forest, and some chattering monkeys. Insects buzzed through the air. A deer stepped tentatively out from under the trees on the far side of the field and began grazing among the juniper bushes. After ten minutes, Lilah walked out of the woods near where the quads were parked. Her pistol was holstered, and she held her spear loosely in her hands. Seconds later, Riot came trotting out from between a rock and a big bristlecone tree. She waved all clear.
“Let’s go,” said Benny, and he and Nix left the shadows and walked out into the sunlight. The field was covered in tall, dry grass that sighed with every breath of wind.
They walked through the tall grass and approached the edge of the ravine with caution, testing the ground with their feet in case it was undercut. A month ago Benny had stood on the edge of this ravine and thought he was safe from a group of pursuing zoms, but the edge had collapsed under him, tumbling him down to the bottom along with dozens of the dead.
They found one very solid spot and stood shoulder to shoulder looking down.
A sea of white faces looked back up at them.
Zoms.
“God,” said Benny, “they’re still here.”
Riot looked at him. “I thought that’s exactly what you expected.”
“Sure,” he admitted, “but think about it. These zoms are going to be down there forever. Just standing there. Year after year.”
“That’s horrible,” said Nix.
“That’s hell as far as I see it,” said Riot.
“That’s the Ruin,” said Lilah coldly.
They all glanced at her, then they looked down again. The faces of the dead wer
e as pale as worms, their skin streaked with dirt, their eyes dusty, their hands reaching upward.
“How many you reckon are down there?” asked Riot.
“More than before,” said Nix. “A lot more. After the first bunch fell in while chasing Benny, others must have been drawn to the sounds.”
Lilah walked along the edge of the trench. Benny marveled that she could walk without a limp. It was only a few weeks after her injury, and every step had to hurt. The fact that she did not limp at all meant that she was eating her pain with each step. That was nearly as impressive as it was creepy.
We all eat our pain, observed his inner voice. All four of us, and Chong, and Joe and everyone else. Eating our pain gives us the fuel to keep fighting.
For once Benny could find no fault with what that inner voice said. He nodded to himself.
“I’ll take the other side,” he said. “Nix, Riot . . . you guys go down to the other end and start up from there.” He gave them as good a description of Ortega as he could remember.
Riot started to go, but Nix lingered a moment.
“What?” asked Benny.
She stepped closer and kept her voice low enough so that only he could hear her.
“Benny, yesterday was a mess.”
He shrugged.
“No,” she insisted, “it was. I freaked out about Chong, and I reacted the wrong way.”
“It’s—”
“I know we already talked about it, and I know we’re supposed to be over it,” she said. “But I’m not over it. I don’t know who that was yesterday, but that wasn’t me.”
“Yeah,” he said with a gentle smile, “I get that.”
“Do you?”