Dearly, Beloved (42 page)

That night, the others partied.

The fires went up soon after we stopped. Some of the Changed danced and sang with abandon, their brush with the army making them boisterous. A few, angry about the zombies the army had carted away, talked about rounding up a posse to go get them. Others talked of marching to the base the army had come from and tearing it apart. The undead laughed and swore loudly, drinking whatever they had—even if the drink couldn’t affect them.

Coalhouse sat mutely through all of it, glaring into the fire.

After a while I made my way over and sat beside him on a fallen tree. I wasn’t sure what was wrong. I wasn’t even sure if I ought to care. Things were looking more and more dire with each passing day, and my grief was turning into apathy.

Mártira would have hated me for that.

The full moon above had moved by the time he spoke. “He didn’t care that I was a soldier.” He looked to his half-empty cup of warm rum. “The guy back on the trail.”

“Should he?”

“Yes!” Coalhouse handed me his cup and stood up. “I mean,
I wasn’t even a dead recruit. I was in the Punk army. You’d think they’d at least listen to me, talk to me like a freaking equal. Even if we were on different sides!”

Setting the cup down, I moved to follow him. “He didn’t know.”

“I
told
him!” Coalhouse punched one of his hands into the other. “I told the bastard!”

Looking around at the party, the dead dancing amidst the flames that might’ve cremated them and the trees that might’ve fed the blaze, I lowered my voice and said, “Look, is that what you’re
really
worried about right now?”

“You don’t get it.” The boy reached up to finger his thinning hair and then violently cast his arm down. “No one ever notices when I do something good. They only notice when I do something
they
think is wrong. My parents used to do the same thing; that’s why I lied about my age and went into the army. Even when I fight with Tom about the fact that he made me this way, that he
killed
me, everyone just rolls their eyes and says, ‘Get over it. You’re stupid.’ I helped Miss Roe, and she doesn’t care. They don’t respect me, they don’t care about me. No one does.”

I could sympathize with him, and yet I remained unmoved. “You have to talk to Hagens
tonight
,” I tried to tell him. “For all our sakes.”

“Oh, am I on a schedule?” He turned around and advanced on me. This time I didn’t step back. “You just want to use me, too? Like the others? Like the army?”

“You came here to help!”

Coalhouse lifted his hand again, and just as swiftly dropped it. He looked at it, his expression slack, before muttering, “I don’t know why I came here.” And with that, he marched back toward the fire. Having no other option, I trotted after him like a beaten but loyal dog.

Only to encounter the very woman I wished not to see.

Hagens was waiting for us—or rather, Coalhouse. At the sound of her voice, nearly vibrating with anger, I shrank back, hoping not to attract her attention. “Last chance for you to come clean. You tell the truth, I let you run before I start shooting.”

“Truth about what?” Coalhouse groused.

“The army. Today. Did you bring them? Is this all part of some plot?”

“No. They didn’t do anything, did they?” Coalhouse walked closer to her and sat down on the tree again, as casually as anything—though I could hear the tightness in his voice. “Except make fools of us.”

Hagens stepped forward and took him by the sleeve, pulling him once more to his feet. “ ‘Didn’t do anything’? They took some of our people. They’re going to interrogate them, charge them!”

“So? Don’t you trust your own people not to talk? They didn’t give
you
up.”

“I don’t trust the humans that’ll try to make them.” She looked at the dying embers ringing the edge of the fire pit, her face demonic by their light. “We have to act. Now. Before it all comes undone.”

“What do you mean?” Coalhouse’s tone grew steadier. I remained standing and still.

Hagens released Coalhouse and sat herself. She reached into the pocket of her waistcoat and pulled out a cigarette, leaning into the circle of coals to light it. As she did, I was surprised to see that her hands were shaking. “We have to get Smoke. Within the next few nights. I’d hoped for more time, but there is none. Mártira’s death might be investigated. The others might spill.”

“Why do you want him?”

Hagens took a draw of her cigarette. “That stuff on Smoke—the royals don’t like printed materials. Where’d you get it?”

“They can still print stuff off. Had to hang around the ship for
hours. Finally Salvez left his station open. Could only get a few things.” Coalhouse made a rolling, tickling sound in his throat and sat. “As usual, no one noticed me. But do you even know where he is? Where they moved him?”

This question gave Hagens pause. She shook her head, the motion sharp. “No.”

“He’s on the
Erika
.” Upon hearing this, she turned her face fully to his. “You know how many guards are on him? When they rotate out? How many docs and techs are around? I do. And I’ll tell you whatever you want to know, as long as you do the same.”

Hagens stared at Coalhouse, and I thought I must be looking at him the same way—not just wonderingly, but with a terrible, sick sort of fear. He’d just told her where the prisoner was. Surely that was too much to give away, even to get information in return. My inner cagey police dealer greatly disapproved.

But at least he was acting. Maybe this was it.

“We were in the army together, Hagens.” He gestured at his chest. “Anyone else here been beside you in battle? Can anyone else here help you like I can?”

“No.” Releasing a puff of smoke, Hagens shut her eyes. “Fine. I’ll tell you everything.”

“Good. Start with why you want him so bad.”

Hagens looked at her cigarette and threw it into the fire pit. She answered in a soft tone, one almost submissive—truly scared. I’d never imagined such a sound could exist. “To protect him. And Company Z. And all zombies.”

Coalhouse blinked on the one side. “What?”

“I never meant to join up with another group, least of all one like this.” She looked at the boy. “Until about a month ago I was going my own way. Didn’t even have a room anywhere—spent twelve hours a day in a pub by what would become the Morgue. The Failing Liver. Looking back on it now, I want to kick myself for being so idle, but … I didn’t want to lift a finger to help the
living. Not after what they did. I was just sitting around with my anger.”

“What changed?”

“One night I was approached by some very odd toffs. Living.” I crept closer, listening in. “They said there was a zombie they wanted to get their hands on. Said they’d pay me good money to bring him to another location. Acted like, I don’t know … they had a debt they wanted to collect, maybe? And they just didn’t want to face a zombie on their own? This was before he bit anyone, mind. No one knew he was carrying a different strain. No one knew who the hell he was.”

“What? Someone offered you a bounty for him?”

“
Exactly
. Anyway, I told them the only kindness a human could expect from me was to be left alone. So their tactics changed, and the offer went from money to blood.” She scowled. “They brought out one of those digital readers and started showing me pictures of my Company Z brothers and sisters—all
survivors
of the December troubles. They couldn’t have been picked at random from a public list of us. Said they’d start killing them one by one unless I did what they wanted. And then I thought they had to be army. Only someone who worked with Company Z would know all the details those guys knew—Griswold’s story about his damn teddy bear, Amed being a little touched in the head, Sweet’s closet full of clothes. The stuff we used to share around campfires and in the canteen.”

“Why didn’t you tell anybody?”

She shrugged. “At that point I thought maybe I could just give in and take care of it. Because Smoke was nothing to me, but those pictures were. Griswold’s was there. Even him I feared for, was ready to sacrifice a stranger for. And what’s the word of one zombie who’s been burned by the army before? Who’d believe me?”

Coalhouse frowned. “Go on.”

“They had a lot of info on Smoke, too. Whole dossier. He’d joined up with a group of zombies called the Changed. The toffs couldn’t go in themselves, and didn’t want to risk a firefight in the middle of New London. So I joined up. They were taking in anyone, it wasn’t hard. Couple weeks went by before I got an opportunity—the execution. Mártira wanted to protest there because of the exposure. I volunteered, said we should take Smoke, put a sign in his hand. Told the toffs they could pick him up.” She laughed roughly, almost crazily. “Do you know what it was like, marching around, protesting at the death of the person who
caused
all this?”

“The exchange went bad?”

“Yeah. Managed to locate them, get him relatively alone. But when he saw them, he
freaked
. I’d never seen him move that much.” She gestured angrily. “He bit people trying to get away. Riot happened. Police carted him off. I figured that was the end of it, that the army would get him from the cops. I tried to concentrate on getting the Changed out of New London—I was afraid the army might try to destroy evidence of what they did. Namely, us. Mártira
finally
went along with it after that scene on the docks. But … it wasn’t over.”

“How do you mean?”

“Claudia told me about the new strain, and I realized what the army had in its possession. A new form of the Laz, raring to go. I started to think about doing something, but then … the toffs came
here
. To the camp. They knew where I was. They told me there might be another chance to get Smoke—that they had word he was being moved from police custody into army custody. That I wasn’t done working for them yet. And that’s when I knew.” She sighed, the sound shaky. “They aren’t army. It’s somebody else, outside, that wants him. Someone who’s got access to army info. Someone who can follow me miles outside the city. Someone who wants to remain behind the scenes.”

Coalhouse was silent, shocked. For lack of anything else to comfort me, I sent my fingers through my leaves and gathered them close to my body.

“And so I knew what I had to do.” Hagens looked at Coalhouse. “Free Smoke immediately, no matter what. I gave Mártira one last chance to get on board. The Dearly brat was up here. I told Mártira if we kidnapped her, we could use her to get Smoke back. She didn’t agree, so she had to go—because I needed her people. And honestly? All of those people will probably die in getting Smoke back. The living guarding him will die. Members of Z-Comp. But they’re no longer important. What’s important is protecting Smoke, and having him protect us. He’s the ultimate weapon. I can’t leave him in human hands. I
won’t
. I won’t let the living use zombies as pawns anymore.”

Hagens stood. I stared at her, almost unthinking. Mártira, Claudia—they’d both been killed for this.

“The antihuman attacks going on in the city—is that you? The people in bird masks?”

Hagens edged her head backward, taken by surprise. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Coalhouse cleared his throat. “Nothing. Piece that doesn’t fit.” The boy was silent for a second. “What’s your idea, then? You still want Nora?”

“No. No time. If he’s on the boat, like you say he is?” She turned back. “We go get him. All of us. Then we use him as a shield to get as far north as we can. Make a safe place for the undead.”

Coalhouse considered. “If I help—you let me decide what gets told when. Our comrades need to know what’s going on. And if somebody in the army’s giving out information, somebody who used to be Z-Comp … they need to be found.”

Hagens capitulated, her head bobbing. “You do this for me, I’ll make you second in command.” For a moment her tone softened again. “You have no idea how long I’ve had to keep silent.”

“I’ll need to go back and ready some things.”

“Fine. At this point, even if you tell—that doesn’t change what we’re going to do. Tomorrow we start for New London.”

After an eternal minute Coalhouse nodded, the motion grave. Hagens returned the sign and stalked away into the night without another word. The deal was wordlessly arranged, signed with bare physical motions.

As she left, my fists tightened, the sharp, green scent of crushed leaves entering my nose. He’d done it. His ways had been weird, but he’d done it.

“You need to come with me,” Coalhouse said before I could think of speaking. “I swear, someone will come back for the others. But you need to come right now.”

I nodded slowly, my mouth still unmoving. Words no longer mattered. I only wanted, in that moment, for him to bring down upon her head a force like a tidal wave, like a crushing wall of water. She’d killed my sisters. She was willing to lie, to kill others.

For the first time, I
wanted
to see somebody die.

“Who are we going to tell first?” I asked, waiting for him to stand.