Benny tensed. He loved Nix, but he knew that she was not above setting verbal traps for him to put his foot into. She’d done it enough times, and he’d stumbled numbly into them more times than he could count. It wasn’t a very likable quality, but it wasn’t any kind of deal breaker for them. He was pretty sure there were things he did that annoyed her, too.
So he relied on one of his favorite stalling tactics. “What do you mean?”
“What I said,” Nix replied, parrying deftly. “Are you sorry we came?”
Benny stuffed his mouth with berries to buy another second to think, and he rather hoped another ravine full of zoms would suddenly open up in the ground directly in front of them.
When that did not happen, he swallowed and braced himself and said, “Sometimes.”
“Why?”
“We haven’t found the jet,” he said. “And until today we haven’t even seen any people. We don’t know if we’re going in the right direction. We’re low on supplies, and now we’ve run into a horde of zoms.” He paused, wondering how far off the cliff of “said too much” he’d already gone. He tried to fix it, but the wrong words came out. “I guess it isn’t what I expected.”
“I thought so,” Nix said, and Benny did not at all like the way she said it.
They walked in silence for another full minute.
“Okay,” he said when he could no longer bear it, “what’s going on?”
“With what?” she asked, not looking at him.
“With us.”
“Nothing,” she said tightly. “Everything’s fine.”
“Really?” he asked. “Is it?”
Nix stared ahead as they walked, watching the bees and the dragonflies.
“Look at me,” he said.
She did not.
“Nix . . . what is it?” he asked gently. “Did I do something, or—?”
“No,” she said quickly.
“Then what is it?”
“Does it have to be anything?”
“Pretty much, yeah. For the last couple of weeks you’ve been weird.”
“Weird?” She loaded that word with jagged chunks of ice.
“Not weird weird, but, you know . . . different. You spend all your time talking to Lilah or not talking to anyone. We hardly talk anymore.”
She stopped and wheeled on him. “And you spend all your time moping around like the world just ended.”
Benny gaped at her. “No, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do,” she insisted.
“Well, okay, maybe I’ve been dealing with some stuff. My brother just died, you know.”
“I know.”
“He was murdered.”
“I know.”
“So maybe I need time to sort through that, ever think about that?”
Nix’s eyes blazed. “Are you going to lecture me about dealing with grief, Benjamin Imura? Your brother died fighting. My mother was beaten to death. How do you think that makes me feel?”
“It makes you feel like crap, how do you think I think it makes you feel?”
“Then what are you harping on—”
“Who’s harping?” he said defensively. “Jeez, Nix, all I did was ask what was wrong. Don’t bite my head off.”
“I’m not biting your head off.”
“Then why are you yelling?”
“I’m not yelling,” she yelled.
Benny took a steadying breath and let it out slowly.
“Nix, I do understand what you’re going through. I’m going through it too.”
“It’s not the same thing,” she said very quietly. An elk poked its head out from behind some sagebrush, studied them for a moment, then bent to eat berries from another bush.
“Then why won’t you tell me what it is?”
She glared at him. “Honestly, Benny, sometimes I think you don’t even know who I am.”
With that she turned and stalked away, her spine as stiff as a board. Benny stood openmouthed until she was almost back to the tree where Chong sat with Eve.
“What the hell was that all about?” he asked the elk.
The elk, being an elk, said nothing.
Dispirited and deeply troubled, Benny thrust his hands in his pockets and walked slowly over to the edge of the ravine to stare at the faces of the living dead. They looked at him with dead eyes, but in some eerie way Benny felt that they could see him and that they somehow understood all the mysteries that were sewn like stitches through the skin of this day.