“Concentrate,” barked Lilah as they set themselves to begin another drill.
But too many things were clattering around in Nix’s mind.
She needed to apologize to Benny, but he was gone. She’d seen him drive away on a quad. She’d almost gone after him, but hadn’t. This needed fixing, but Nix didn’t know which words would form the glue of that repair.
So she’d gone looking for Captain Ledger, to see if he’d give her another combat lesson. He nearly sicced his dog on her.
The ranger was an enigma, one of the many things about this phase of her life that Nix didn’t understand. Sometimes he was so gruff and rude that she wanted to feed him to the zoms. Yet sometimes he could be extraordinarily kind and wise. Almost like Tom.
Shortly after arriving at Sanctuary, Joe gave Nix a real sword to replace the wooden sword she’d carried from Mountainside. He’d offered one to Lilah as well, but the Lost Girl preferred her spear.
The sword Joe gave Nix was one of several top-quality katanas the ranger possessed. The handle and fittings were new, but Joe said the blade was ancient. Hundreds of years old.
“Isn’t it fragile?” Nix asked, terrified that she might destroy so beautiful a relic.
But Joe laughed. “This sword was made by Hoki Yasutsuna, one of the greatest Japanese sword makers of all time. It’s a superb blade. I’d take it into any battle without hesitation. And it has a name, Dojigiri.”
“What’s it mean?”
Joe grinned. “Dojigiri means ‘Monster cutter.’ Rather appropriate, don’t you think?”
The sword did not look particularly impressive, with plain black silk bindings on the handle and a speckled cord. However, Nix accepted the sword with wide-eyed reverence.
“Dojigiri,” she repeated, holding it as if it would shatter in her hands. “Monster cutter. This is crazy. This must be worth a fortune.”
“It’s worth whatever value you place on it, Nix. No one else is looking. The whole value system is a historical footnote.”
“But… this should be in a museum.”
“Used to be,” said Joe with a smile. “It was a national treasure of Japan and happened to be part of a collection of priceless artifacts on loan to an American museum. Lately, though, the only people visiting museums are zombies and scavengers, so I liberated it along with some other goodies. Not really theft, is it? Besides… the sword was made to be used, not to gather dust. I believe Tom was training you kids to be samurai, right? So… be samurai.”
Benny drew his kami katana and showed it to Joe. “I have a good sword too.”
The ranger gave him a tolerant smile. “Not sure how to break this to you, kid, but your sword is a good-quality modern blade, and definitely reliable in a fight, but it’s not what you’d call a ‘legendary’ sword.”
Benny was affronted. “This was Tom’s sword.”
“Sure,” agreed Joe, “and he put it to good use, but the fact remains that they made about ten thousand swords just like that one. Hell, that one isn’t even Tom’s original.”
“Yes it is!” Benny insisted.
“No, it’s not. He broke his first sword a few days after First Night. He told me about it. Quite a story, too. And… I think he might have had another one after that. I was with him when he took this baby off one of the skull-riders who—”
“The who?” asked Benny and Nix together.
Joe blinked at them. “The skull-riders? The kill squad out of Reno?” He paused. “Tom never told you about that?”
“No,” said Benny and Nix at the same time.
“Didn’t he tell you about the time he and I and a guy named Solomon Jones took down a group of slavers up around Lake Tahoe? Or the time we teamed up with Hector Mexico, Johnny Apache, and the Beatbox Boys and cleared out the reavers who were raiding the trade route between the Nine Towns?”
“No,” Benny said heavily. “Are you making this stuff up? Tom never said anything about this. He was a bounty hunter, that’s all.”
“That’s all? Really?” Captain Ledger laughed. “How do you think Tom learned all his tricks? You think he got that good quieting zoms? Get your head out of your butt, kid. While everyone was building the towns and putting up that fence, your brother was riding with some hard-asses out in the Ruin.” He paused, considered, sighed. “But… I guess that’s Tom for you. He never was one to brag. Surprised you never asked the other bounty hunters about him.”
“The only bounty hunters Benny ever listened to were Charlie Pink-eye and the Motor City Hammer,” said Nix.
“Ah,” said Joe. “Those two. Tom would have done the whole world a favor by putting bullets in their brainpans back when he had the chance. Would have saved the world a lot of grief.” Joe suddenly stiffened and cut a sharp look at Nix, then winced. “Ahhh, jeez, I’m sorry. I forgot about your mom. I’m an idiot.”
Nix wanted to cry, but she kept her eyes dry. “Benny killed Charlie. I killed Marion Hammer.”
A slow smile formed on Joe’s face. “Seriously?”
“Yeah,” said Benny.
“Holy frog snot. You have got to tell me everything.”
So they told him about the murder of Nix’s mother and the horrors of that incident.
“I knew her, you know,” said Joe sadly. “Jessie was one classy lady. Gorgeous, too. You have her eyes, Nix. And her toughness. I know she’d be proud.”
Now tears rolled down Nix’s cheeks, but her voice didn’t break as they continued the story. When they got to the end, Joe clapped Benny resoundingly on the shoulder and kissed Nix on the forehead. “That’s sweet! That’s the cat’s ass. You killed Charlie with the Hammer’s own pipe, and then you killed him again in the zombie pits. Oh man, now that’s legendary.”
Nix wiped away her tears. “It didn’t feel legendary at the time. It was scary and weird.”
“Sure, but then all real adventures are scary and weird,” said Joe. “Believe me… I know.”
They returned to training, but Benny was clearly angry. Nix could understand why. Joe made a point of evaluating everything they’d learned from Tom, and frequently suggested some modifications. A couple of times that day Benny balked at changes in technique suggested by the ranger.
“That’s not how Tom did it.”
Joe’s reply to each comment was a shrug. “Do it whatever way will keep you alive.”
But Joe’s advice had pushed too many of Benny’s buttons. “Hey, man, stop acting like you know more than Tom.”
Joe smiled. It was a tolerant smile, but his patience clearly didn’t go too many layers deep. “Listen to me, kid. I’m offering you the chance to learn some extra skills and about the nature of warfare. You want to learn this stuff, fine. You don’t want to learn it, also fine. But understand two things about Tom. First, he was a very, very talented amateur, but he was an amateur. He was one day out of the police academy when First Night happened. He’d never served in the military. Most of what he learned about combat he picked up during the fourteen years he worked as a bounty hunter and closure specialist. And he learned a lot from me. Now… from what I saw when he ran with my pack, and from what I’ve heard since, Tom became seriously good. Good enough to spank Charlie Pink-eye and his crew, and tough enough so that Preacher Jack had to shoot him in the back rather than risk fighting him one-on-one. That says a lot. Tom was the kind of guy I’d want at my back in any situation. But here’s the flip side of that. Before First Night — for a lot of years before First Night — I was the top shooter in a group that hired only top shooters. I was fighting monsters, bad guys, and terrorists before Tom was even born. Grasp that for a minute, kid. I’m not saying this to brag. This is a perspective check. I’ve been fighting this war in one way or another for more than forty years. Even before First Night I’ve seen things you wouldn’t believe. Stuff that would have you screaming into your pillow every night. I led combat teams into firefights on every continent, and I’ve killed more people than you ever met. With hands, guns, knives, and once with a paperback book. You think I’m trying to bust on your brother by correcting the way you swing a sword? Kid, if I wanted to humiliate him or you, I’d take that sword away from you and break it over my knee. But as it turns out, I happen to respect what you and Nix can do, and I respect what Tom taught you, and I respect Tom as a fallen brother-in-arms. I respect all of that so much that I want to make sure it doesn’t go to waste just because you have too much pride and ego to take some constructive criticism. So if you want to stop arguing with everything I say, then I’ll teach you every dirty trick I can so you stay alive.”