Benny, the artist, and the two bounty hunters had followed the card’s progress with their eyes, and now-as one-they raised their eyes to look at the man who now stood in the street. The man bent and plucked the card from beneath his toe. He studied it for a moment, then blew dust and sand from its surface. He glanced over the card, then at the four people clustered together in front of the artist’s door. He smiled and slid the card into his shirt pocket.
It was the first time Benny had ever been glad to see him.
“Tom,” Benny said.
19
TOM IMURA WAS DRESSED IN FADED BLUE JEANS AND A GREEN TRAVEL-stained safari shirt with a lot of pockets. He wore old boots, an ancient Pittsburgh Pirates ball cap, and a smile that was every bit as friendly and inviting as a pit viper’s. As he strolled slowly toward the front of the house, Charlie and the Hammer took small sideways steps to be clear of any obstructions. Both men wore knives on their belts. The Hammer had his black- pipe club, and Benny knew for certain that Charlie had a four-barreled derringer in his boot top.
“So,” said Tom amiably, “what are we doing today?”
The question sounded as ordinary as Nix asking if Benny wanted to go swimming or Chong suggesting they entertain the trout down at the stream.
“Just having a chat, Tom,” said the Hammer. “Ain’t nothing.”
“Happy to hear it, Marion.”
Benny gasped. No one ever called the Hammer by his birth name. There was a story Morgie liked to tell about how when the Hammer turned fourteen, he killed his father with a screwdriver for giving him that name. And yet the Hammer didn’t say a single word about it to Tom.
“You doing okay, Benny?” Tom asked.
Benny didn’t trust his voice, so he gave a short jerk of a nod.
“Rob?” Tom asked with an uptick of his chin.
The artist said, “Just a friendly chat. The boys were just passing the time of day.”
Tom stopped a yard away from Charlie. He shoved his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and looked up at the hard, blue dome of the sky.
“And it’s a hot one, ain’t it?” said Tom, squinting at a buzzard floating like a black kite, high in the sky. Without looking down he said, “I see they put the Lost Girl on a Zombie Card. How about that?”
“She ain’t none of your business, Tom,” said Charlie with quiet menace.
Tom nodded as if agreeing, but he said, “I seem to remember you telling folks that the Lost Girl was just a myth. Or was it that she was dead ten years ago and more?”
Charlie said nothing.
Tom finally lowered his eyes and turned toward Charlie. If there was anything to read in Tom’s face, Benny wasn’t able to see it.
“And then I see you getting all worked up over her picture on a kid’s trading card. What am I supposed to think about that?”
“Think what you like, Tom,” said Charlie.
“Yeah,” added the Hammer with a laugh. “It’s a free country.”
The bounty hunters laughed, and Tom laughed with them, sharing a joke that clearly no one found funny. Benny shifted uncomfortably and threw an inquiring look at Sacchetto, who returned the look with a shake of his head.
“Charlie, you and Marion wouldn’t be looking for the Lost Girl again, would you?”
“Can’t look for someone who’s dead,” said the Hammer.
“Seems to me that we do that all the time,” said Tom.
The Hammer colored, annoyed with himself for a foolish comment.
“The last time you were looking for her was after what happened up in the mountains. But you told me that it was all an accident. It made me wonder then, as it does now, if the Lost Girl might have seen something she shouldn’t have. Or some
“There was nothing to see.” Charlie growled. “Like I told you a dozen times.”
Tom shrugged. “And yet you get all worked up over her card. Why is that? Are you afraid that now she’s on a card, everyone will know that she really exists? That maybe someone will go looking for her? Maybe… bring her back to town? Ask her about life out there in the Rot and Ruin? Maybe ask her about her sister? Ask her about Gameland?”
Benny frowned. What was Gameland?
“Gameland burned down,” said Charlie. “As you well know.”
“Me? What do I know? As you said, Gameland burned down. Nothing left but cold ashes and a few bones. No way to tell who the bones belonged to.”
Charlie said nothing.
“Wonder if anyone ever rebuilt it,” said Tom. “Oh… not where it used to be. But somewhere else. Somewhere secret. Somewhere that a wandering girl in the mountains might stumble upon.” His voice was quiet, his tone mild, as if he and Charlie were passing the time of day, talking about the price of corn. But Benny could see clouds forming on Charlie’s face, darkening his expression. Lightning flashed in the bright blue eye, and fire seemed to burn in the pink eye. Charlie took a step toward Tom.
“You keep making accusations like that, Tom, and we might have to have a talk.”
Tom smiled. “We
Charlie took another step, and now his bulk blocked the sun and cast Tom completely in shadows.
“Don’t mess with me, Tom. You got lucky once. Luck don’t hold long these days.”
Tom’s smile never wavered. He took a single sideway step and looked around Charlie Matthias. “Benny, it’s past your time to come on home. We’re supposed to be training today.”
“Training?” said the Hammer. “You’re teaching this pup the hunt?”
Tom turned his smiling face to him, but he didn’t answer. Benny caught the quick sharp look that passed between the Hammer and Charlie.
Charlie edged another half step closer to Tom. He towered over Tom, but Benny’s brother didn’t back away and he didn’t take his hands out of his back pockets.
“It’s a risky business taking a young pup into the trade,” said Charlie.
“He’s of age,” said Tom. “Got to earn his rations, like everyone else.”
“Yeah… but he looks a little soft to me. The Ruin’s a dangerous place.”
“Benny’s already been to the Ruin, Charlie. He did just fine.”
Charlie’s own smile returned as he looked at Benny. “You been out in the great zombie wonderland, kid?”
When Benny said nothing, Tom surprised him by saying, “Answer the man, Benny.”
“Yes.”
“Be polite, Benny,” Tom chided.
“Yes…
Charlie nodded approval. “You got him trained good as a hunting dog.”
Benny held his ground. “He’s training me to be a
He didn’t know why he said it, and even as he said it he knew it wasn’t true, but he wanted to wipe the smirk off of Charlie’s face.
His words did just that. Charlie’s eyes hardened to stone, and he opened his mouth to say something. Tom put a hand on Benny’s shoulder. “We’ll be moving on home, fellas.”
He turned, pulling Benny gently, but before they went three steps, Charlie said something quietly to the Hammer, and they both laughed. It was a dark and ugly laugh, heavy and swollen with the promise of awful things. Benny tensed, wanting to turn, but Tom’s hand was like iron on his shoulder.
