To the zombie pits.
She remembered coming back to Gameland to rescue Annie, but Annie was not there. A thing was, wearing the disguise of beautiful little Annie.
Lilah remembered what she had been forced to do.
And she remembered every moment of every day of every month of the lonely years that followed.
Hell?
Lilah knew hell.
It had nothing to teach her, no new tricks it could play on her.
She sat on the edge of Chong’s bed and watched the strange machines beep and ping. But each beep was farther apart, each ping closer to a whisper.
Lilah held Chong’s icy hand in hers. His eyes stared up at the ceiling, but they were milky, the irises transformed into a polluted mix of brown and green and black. The pupils were pinpricks, the whites veined with black lines as thin as sewing thread.
Bags of chemicals and medicines hung pendulously from the metal bed frame, dripping their mysteries into Chong’s veins. His arm was covered with the black marks from needles. So many needles.
Lilah had refused to wear a hazmat suit. The doctors had warned her that if she didn’t put one on, she could never leave this building. Even they couldn’t guarantee that she wouldn’t carry a disease out with her that would do what the Reaper Plague and all the other plagues had failed to do. Wipe everyone and everything out. The people inside the labs lived in isolation, never touching flesh to flesh, not even a handshake. They wore their hazmat suits all day until they sealed themselves into their private bedroom cells.
Lilah didn’t care about any of that.
If she got sick and died, so what?
She would not be alone in death’s kingdom. She knew that.
She listened to the beeps and willed Chong to fight.
To fight.
Fight.
“You damn well fight, you stupid town boy,” she growled.
But with every minute those beeps, those electronic signs of life, grew fainter and fainter.
Until all she could hear was a long, continuous scream from the heart monitor.
It was almost the loudest sound in the world.
Only her own, endless keening cry of grief was louder.
Hell, it seemed, had one last trick to play.
-4—
BENNY AND NIX STOOD BY THE EDGE OF THE TRENCH AS THE SUN FELL behind the world and the stars ignited overhead. The trench was twenty feet across. It might as well have been ten miles. Ten thousand miles.
They stared at the tall building with its electric lights glowing against the shadows on the walls.
Stared at one window, high and to the left.
An hour ago they had seen Lilah’s silhouette there.
There had been no sign of her since.
They didn’t even turn when Joe’s quad rumbled to a stop. They heard him switch it off, heard Grimm’s soft whuff and the crunch of Joe’s shoes on the gravel, but they never took their eyes from that lighted window.
“Listen,” said Joe softly, “I just brought back the last of the stuff from the plane. The scientists are going over it now. It was exactly what they needed. It . . . ” His voice trailed off.
“Go away,” said Benny. His voice was crushed flat and empty.
Joe walked around and stood in front of them, forcing them to see him, to react to him. He squatted down, resting his elbows on his knees. Grimm stood beside him, his eyes dark and liquid.
“I want you two to listen to me,” Joe said. “Straight talk here, okay? I know you’re hurting. I know why you left Mountainside. I understand why you’ve been searching for the jet. I know what it means to you. A better place than your little town. A chance at a real future. I get that. I’d have done the same. Tom must have thought so too, or he’d have never left and never taken you with him.”
“You don’t know anything,” said Nix.