“You can-,” Benny began, but Tom stopped him with a raised finger.
“I don’t want an answer right now, Benny. I want us to do our training session and then we’ll have some dinner. We’ll talk after.”
“Why not now?”
“Because you want it too much now.”
“Great time to go Zen on me.”
Tom shrugged. “If I have to get to know who you are, you have to get to know who I am. Fair’s fair.” He opened the gate. “Let’s go.”
Benny stood outside the gate, drumming his fingers on the wooden top rail. He didn’t understand Tom at the best of times, and for a few seconds he felt like he’d just missed the punchline of a joke. He looked down at the card, as if the Lost Girl could whisper some explanation to him.
“Honestly… is it just me or is Tom crazy?”
The Lost Girl’s eyes held infinite answers, but he couldn’t hear a word. He sighed, tucked the card into his pocket, and headed into the house.
Fifteen minutes later Tom tried to kill Benny with a sword.
21
BENNY TWISTED OUT OF THE WAY OF THE SWORD WITH MAYBE A MICRON to spare. He could feel the blade slice the air; he heard the swoosh of the wind. Benny threw himself to one side and tried to roll behind the picnic table, but Tom was as nimble as an ape. He leaped onto the tabletop, dropped quickly into a crouch, and as Benny came out of his roll and started to rise, Tom stopped him with the edge of his weapon across Benny’s windpipe.
“You’re dead.”
Benny put a finger against the blunt edge of the wooden practice sword and pushed it away.
“You cheated.”
Tom lowered his sword. “How do you figure that?”
“I dropped my sword,” Benny said. “I told you to give me a second.”
“Oh, please. Like anyone out in the Ruin is going to cut you any slack.”
“Zoms don’t carry swords.”
“That’s hardly the point.”
“And, as far as I know, none of the other bounty hunters do either.”
Tom picked up a towel and wiped sweat from his face. “Now you’re lying to save face. You saw one of them use a sword when we were out in the-”
“Okay, okay, whatever. Let me catch my breath.” Benny dropped his wooden sword and trudged over to the pitcher of iced tea and drank two cupfuls. “Besides,” he said, turning back, “I’d rather learn how to use a gun.”
“You already know how to shoot.”
“Not like you.” He almost said “not like Charlie,” but caught himself. Last year Charlie had given a demonstration of pistol and rifle trick shooting at the harvest fair. Tom had watched the whole thing with narrowed eyes and a wooden face. Thinking back on that, Benny wondered if Tom was anywhere near as good as Charlie with a gun. He’d had never seen his brother shoot.
Tom didn’t reply. He weighed the wooden
“Will you teach me to shoot?”
“Eventually, sure,” said Tom. “Though… you know enough now to stop one of the dead if you get into trouble. But I already told you that I prefer swords and knives. They’re quieter and they-”
“Don’t need to be reloaded,” Benny interrupted. “Yeah, I remember. You’ve told me fifteen times. You also said that sometimes quiet doesn’t matter.”
“True, but there are a lot more times when it does.” Tom hooked the tip of his sword under Benny’s and flipped it up so that it tumbled over and over in the air. It came at Benny faster than expected, and he surprised himself by getting a hand up in time to catch it. Tom grinned. “At least your reflexes are good.”
“Hooray for me.”
Tom raised his sword in a formal two-hand grip and waited until Benny finished making faces and did the same. Tom moved to his right, beginning a slow sideway circle, always keeping his sword ready. Benny shifted to his left, matching him.
“Quiz time,” said Tom.
“Do we have to?”
“No. You can quit and go shovel body parts into the pit. I’m easy.”
Benny didn’t voice the word that rose to his lips.
“Define ‘
“It’s Japanese for ‘sword methods’ or ‘the way of the sword,’” Benny said in as bored a tone as he could manage. Tom darted forward a half step in a quick fake, and Benny stepped backward.
“What does ‘samurai’ mean?”
“‘To serve,’” said Benny. This time he tried the same fake, but instead of retreating, Tom stepped in, parried his blade, and tapped him on the shoulder.
“Blood is now pouring out of a hole where your arm used to be.”
“Yeah, yeah, and when I come back as a zom, I’m going to eat your brains.”
Tom laughed and swung another cut, but Benny blocked it, and Benny blocked the next dozen attacks.
“You’re taking it easy on me,” Benny said.
“You have to work up to full speed.”
“I can handle it.”
“No, you can’t.”
“Yes, I can.”
“No, you-Oh, hell.” Tom moved forward and to one side, and just like that moment back in Harold Simmons’s house, Benny saw his brother’s body blur as Tom moved with incredible speed. His sword seemed to vanish, but then there was a loud
“Okay,” Benny croaked. “Fair enough. I’m not ready. Get off my nads.”
Tom raised his knee. “Sorry. Meant to pin your hip.”
“You missed,” Benny said in a tiny voice. “Ow.”
“Really,” Tom said. “Sorry.”
He stepped away and let Benny climb to his feet.
“That was
Benny turned to see Morgie, Chong, and Nix grinning at him from the other side of the garden gate.
“Hit him again,” said Morgie.
“Yeah,” agreed Nix. She didn’t smile as broadly as Morgie, and there was an edge to her voice.
“Kneel on his nuts some more,” suggested Chong. “I don’t think that’s ever going to get old.”
Benny wheeled on Tom. “Why are they here?”
“Suffering is easier to endure when shared,” said Chong as he lifted the gate latch.
“What?”
“They’re here for lessons,” said Tom. “I invited them.”
“Why? And remember that you can’t defend yourself if I smother you in your sleep.”
