Dewey’s tail whipped back and forth.
The helicopter hung there in the air. Something they’d only ever seen on the edges of their world. Something that belonged to the old world. Something they’d read about in books. Now, here.
Drawn to them by their signals.
Pulled by their wills and through the things they’d read about.
Survival skills included how to signal for help.
The boys stood there, waving with their hands now.
Grinning.
Laughing.
Tears rolling down their cheeks.
The side door of the helicopter opened, and a man dressed in military camouflage fatigues stared out at them. Even from fifty yards away they could see the surprise on his face as he looked at them, and at the apparatus they’d constructed on the roof.
Then a slow smile formed on the soldier’s face.
He gave them a thumbs-up.
Then held up his hands, fingers splayed, pulsing them three times.
Wait. Thirty minutes.
The helicopter rose, climbing and turning. Looking for someplace to land.
Keaton and Walker watched it go.
Then they turned and glanced at the open roof door.
Keaton grinned. “How many books do you think they’ll let us take?”
Walker gave him a devious smile. “Let’s find out.”
They rushed inside to make their selections.
Below them, all around them, the mindless dead moaned for something they could never have.
FROM NIX’S JOURNAL
ON KNOWLEDGE
(BEFORE DUST & DECAY)
We trained with Tom every single day.
Most of the people in town made jokes about us being samurai, and they thought that all that meant was we trained with swords.
If they only knew.
Tom never bothered to correct people about it. I guess we didn’t either.
But the truth was that we learned a lot more than how to use wooden swords. More than how to do kicks and punches and combat stuff.
A lot more.