A dreamy and distant look floated through Riot’s eyes, and Benny glanced at Nix, who clearly saw it too.
“Was Jolt your boyfriend?” Nix asked carefully.
“We had a little thing going,” Riot
said coyly, but didn’t elaborate.
“What happened to him?” asked Benny, though he was afraid of what the answer would be.
“I don’t rightly know. ’Bout a year ago, while I was running some people out to Sanctuary, the Rat Pack’s camp was overrun by reapers. I got there maybe two days after it happened and found half the people I knew slaughtered and the rest gone. They lit out in every possible direction, and from the tracks it looked like there were reapers in hot pursuit of every single person.” She sighed heavily. “I quieted the dead. Near on twenty of them. Some little ones, too. Only a few reapers, though. The scavengers ain’t much into killing, even in self-defense.”
“Stupid,” said Lilah, and Riot shot her a hard look.
“You’re welcome to keep your opinions to your damn self, missy,” snapped Riot, throwing down the rope and getting nose to nose with Lilah. “That Rat Pack was the closest thing I had to a real family, and I won’t hear a word against them.”
Lilah looked genuinely surprised by Riot’s reaction.
“But they let themselves die,” insisted Lilah.
“So do the way-station monks,” interjected Nix. “Not everyone believes in killing.”
Lilah pushed Riot back, but not with anger. Just to create distance. “You were with them? A scavenger?”
“Yes,” said Riot.
“And you kill.”
Riot looked down at the ground. After a moment, she sighed and picked up the rope.
“Jolt and the others? They were better than me. All they wanted to do was find food and supplies, and have some fun while the rest of the clock ticked down.” She glanced again at Lilah. “You want to tell me that’s wrong?”
This time Lilah held her tongue. She looked confused, unable to frame a reply.
Benny said, “Did you look for Jolt?”
“Oh yeah,” said Riot. “I looked all over this desert for him. Haven’t found so much as a footprint.”
“Well,” said Benny, “when this is over, when things settle down . . . maybe we can help you look.”
Riot smiled and shook her head. “Don’t you know nothing, boy? This ain’t never going to be over.”
She looked at the rope she held in her hands. Then, without another word, she finished tying the loose knot.
Below them, the big soldier stood in a throng of maybe a dozen smaller zoms: some women, a few teenagers, and two men of average height. Ortega looked to be about six-four or -five.
“They’re pretty thick down there,” said Riot. “Best place to lasso someone is around the chest, ’bout midway down the upper arm. But our boy’s reaching up. Might have to hook an arm and try to drag him out that way.”
Riot crept as close to the edge as she dared. The undercut ground creaked a little even under her negligible weight. Benny picked up the rope and stood behind her to anchor her in place.
“Do it!” he said.
Riot swung the lasso over her head a few times and then hurled it down.
She snagged three different arms, two of which belonged to other dead.
She eased the slack and tried again.
And again.