Monsters (Ashes Trilogy 3)

Misread the situation? Had she just admitted to making a mistake? “So can we agree that we’re all a little on edge? Please, stay awhile. I hate being alone all the time. All I’ve got is what’s running around in my head. Five minutes. If I’m a jerk again, you can leave.”

“I don’t need your permission,” she said, although he thought there might be the ghost of a smile this time. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Um . . .” Now that she was staying, everything seemed to jam behind his teeth. You thought I was Simon. How well did you know him? Did you know Peter? Tell me more about Penny. But all that felt too personal, too fast. “Do you want to sit?”

“Thanks.” Slipping onto a straight-back, she clutched the tray to her chest like a shield. “So . . . what’s on your mind?”

“Okay, here’s what I don’t understand.” Actually, there were quite a few things he didn’t get, but he decided to start with something that was not only safe but pointed out that, really, he could be trusted. (Oh, riiiight, his inner voice needled, that so explains why you lied to Ellie and haven’t told them about Lena.) “You know I’m the one who’s been taking your sickest kids back to Rule. I’m the one who’s left food and supplies.”

“Yes, and you can leave kibbles out for a stray cat,” she said, with that same neutral tone, “but that doesn’t mean you won’t skin it for stew the minute it gets close.”

“But all I did was show up at that bookmobile. I never knew you guys were there until you left that first little girl for me to find.” This was only a small lie. He’d made it his business to visit Oren after Jess pointed him that way. Why she never said she’d broken from the Amish herself or mentioned boo about Isaac was something only Jess could answer.

“Actually, no. That was another group’s decision. I had no part in that, and I wouldn’t have agreed if I’d been asked.”

“That’s pretty harsh.”

“Is that a question or an observation?”

“Both. Don’t you guys have rules or something? Doesn’t Isaac tell you what to do?”

“Of course not. He’s an . . . adviser.”

“So you guys run things yourself ?”

“More or less. We’re free to disagree, but there’s a certain consensus from group to group.”

Yeah, like the one about putting down kids you don’t think will make it. Yet even that must not be an absolute. He’d rescued several, very sick kids, some of whom had died once back in Rule. “Isaac’s the only adult?”

“The only one left. He keeps tabs on us, moves from group to group.”

“How many groups are there?”

“Is that important?”

Okay, so they weren’t going there. “Fine, you’re right. Not important.” Not entirely; Peter had talked about carrying capacities, how alarmingly fast Rule had grown beyond its resources. “So, what about my original question? You guys made the first move, not me.”

Which was not entirely true. After Jess mentioned there might be kids around the old Amish settlement, he made it his mission to rescue as many as possible. He’d visited, frequently, aware of the eyes on his back, careful to always leave some token supplies—batteries, food—at the old bookmobile where he’d found that first Spared, a very sick girl, just inside the front door. She was also the only child he hadn’t had to jump through hoops to find.

“Discovering that girl wasn’t a fluke,” he said. “Those kids made sure I found her. After her, they left a note to clue me in on the hex signs. They obviously didn’t think I was a threat.”

“And as I said, it wasn’t my call. Look, we could go round and round about this for days, so let me ask you something, Chris.” She leaned forward. “If there had been other children who weren’t sick . . . say, you stumbled on us . . . would you have taken us back to Rule? By force?”

“Probably.” He could feel the heat splash his cheeks. “Yes.”

“Then that makes you no better than the people who stole Ellie.”

“It’s not so black-and-white.”

“Yes, it is. I never stole a child. I’ve never allowed anyone to use a child as a way to buy sanctuary.”

“As you might say . . . that wasn’t my call.”

“But you enforced it.”

“We’ve all had to make choices. All I ever wanted was to help. I did what I thought was right at the time.” Coming out of his mouth, they sounded like the platitudes they were.

“And you’d still do it, all over again.”

“You mean, like you deciding to kill me?” he shot back. “Yeah, I guess I would. So we’re even. I’d try to find ways to keep kids alive, and you’d trick people into taking poison.”

He could hear the echo of his shout in the sudden silence. She was rigid, the skin around her mouth tight, her cheeks high with wild color. Idiot. He had to stay calm, be reasonable. Push people too far and they exploded. Sorry, Dad, sorry, it’s my fault; I won’t do it again.

“I never . . .” She cleared her throat. “It’s never a trick. When someone is beyond help, when there is no hope, it’s a choice. When we know for certain, when the dogs warn us that a child is”—her gray eyes shuttled away—“turning, it’s still a choice.”

“A choice between what and what?”

“What do you think, Chris? If you were turning, if you knew that you’d try to kill your friends, people you loved . . . are you telling me that you’d choose to become one of them?”

“Between what and what?” he asked again. At that moment, he understood, completely, why Peter set up the Zone. Despite the secrets and lies, he knew Peter still loved him, would die for him. If Peter had confided in him, would he have helped?

Maybe I would. Because if Alex Changed . . . if Peter did . . . I could never pull the trigger. He bet Peter would’ve felt no differently. Watching his friends and people he loved Change in front of his eyes, Peter would’ve tried to find a way. Where there was life, there was hope. They might Change back, get better. The trick was keeping them alive long enough to give them that chance.

Yes, but how long would you run the experiment? Months? Years? Does hope have a termination date?

“Don’t tell me you let any kid you think is Changing wander around. So what’s the choice?” He realized that he really was spoiling for a fight, some way of hitting back. “What do you do, lock them up and starve them to death, or only shoot them when they go rabid?”