He turned and lumbered away, trailed by his bleeding companions.
Riot hurried over to Jolt and got right up in his face. “He’s not joking, Jolt; they will be back.”
“I guess they will.”
She studied him. “Y’all are barn-owl crazy.”
Jolt grinned. “Been told that.”
“Why are you doing this?” she demanded, her voice a fierce whisper. “Y’all are stepping into harm’s way here, and you don’t even know me.”
“Does that matter? How long does a person have to know someone before they do what’s right? You’re a girl out here, starving and fighting for her life. Am I supposed to just ignore all that? What kind of person would that make me? What kind of world would that make? Look, Riot, I wasn’t joking about what I said. How much killing is enough? How much pain is enough? When do we stop and say ‘that’s it, no more’?”
Riot opened her mouth to respond, but she didn’t know how to answer those questions.
“The world that died couldn’t answer those questions either,” he said, and gave a small shrug. “The people Gummi and I travel with — we don’t pretend to know all the answers, but we’re working on them.” His grin returned, brighter than ever. “And we’re having some fun while we work it out.”
“Y’all are definitely crazy,” said Riot, and she too grinned.
The dead, smelling blood on the air, moaned in hunger. They crawled over the cars toward the living meat.
“Time to go,” said Jolt, and he started to turn away. Then he paused and reached out a hand to her. “Want to come…?”
She gave it a lot of thought. Maybe a full second.
Then she took his hand, and together they climbed onto the nearest car.
“Let’s go!” bellowed Jolt. He let out a huge whoop of sheer joy, took two running steps across the hood, and then jumped high and wide, sailing over the heads and mouths and reaching arms of the biters.
Riot watched him — his strong back, his lithe body.
What in tarnation have you got yourself into, girl? she wondered.
Behind her the dead were massing, scrambling over the cars now like a swarm of wriggling worms. Off the road, hundreds of people were rushing toward her, coming to help her and Jolt. People she did not know. Orphans and refugees. Scavengers.
Friends?
Maybe. As strange as that concept was.
But what kind of friend could she be to them? Brother Andrew was right. He would be back. The reapers were out there, and there were so many of them. If they came in force, what could a couple of hundred people do?
“Please,” she said to the hot air. But she did not know exactly what she was asking for. She watched Jolt run and leap and twist and land and run. “Please.”
Riot cast one last look behind her, to where Brother Andrew had gone.
“Please,” she begged.
The reapers would come for her.
No, that wasn’t quite right. They would come for Sister Margaret. They would come for the girl who once belonged to them, to the Night Church.
Maybe they would not find her. Maybe by the time they came back the scavengers would have moved on to another town. And another. Maybe if it took too long to find her, the reapers would give up.
She hoped so.
She desperately wanted them to understand that the girl they were looking for did not exist anymore. Not a trace of her.
The girl she had been, Sister Margaret, was dead and gone.
She turned and ran and leaped and followed, hoping that she was free.