Lilah closed her eyes.
“Chong,” she said hoarsely.
Or, she meant to say “Chong.”
What she said was, “Tom.”
29
BENNY AND NIX MADE IT TO THE WOODS WITH NO TIME TO SPARE. THE motor noise roared as loud as thunder as they dove beneath the canopy of leaves and pine needles.
Nix led the way, and Benny was a half step behind her. He cut a quick look over his shoulder and saw something that made him grab Nix’s arm and jerk her to a stop.
“Look!” he said in an urgent whisper.
They crouched down behind a thick bush and stared with slack-jawed amazement at something neither of them had ever seen.
Ten people came tearing into the clearing, all of them dressed in black clothes tied with red streamers, all of them heavily armed . . . and each of them on four-wheeled motorized vehicles.
“Oh my God,” breathed Nix, gripping Benny’s arm. “What—what—?”
The machines were not cars or trucks, and not quite motorcycles, either. Benny fished for the name and scraped up the initials ATV. He thought they stood for “all-terrain vehicle,” and that was probably right, because these machines roared easily over the uneven surface of the field. They each had four fat rubber tires and a kind of saddle for the driver. The machines were spattered with mud, but some colored metal shone through. Different colors for each—blue and green and other shades. A basket or duffel bag was lashed to the back of each, and the handles of swords and axes sprouted from many. The roar of the machines was unnaturally loud—and even in that moment of tension, it struck Benny how quiet his world was and how loud the old world of machines must have been.
The presence of these machines was like a punch to the head.
“Are we seeing this?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said in a fierce tone. She turned to him, her eyes alight. “First the jet and now this. Benny—the old world isn’t dead. Everything wasn’t destroyed.”
Benny nodded, but he studied the figures on the machines and didn’t like what he was seeing. He remembered the word Riot had used. Quads. This had to be what she was referring to.
The quads zoomed across the field and circled the big bristlecone tree. One rider stopped and dismounted, studying the ground. Looking for footprints, Benny realized.
“Nix,” he said, indicating the man who had dismounted, “look at them, look at his chest.”
She looked where he was pointing, and her mouth turned down into a frown of doubt. On the center of the man’s black shirt were angel wings, neatly embroidered in white thread.
“Angels with wings on their chests,” Nix murmured as she dumped the spent shells from her pistol.
“Angels came and set fire to the trees,” Benny added.
“Uh-oh,” she said softly.
“Listen, much as I’d love to find out about those machines and where these people come from, somehow I don’t think now is the moment.”
“No,” she agreed. She checked all her pockets for bullets and found only two.
“That’s it?” Benny asked, a note of panic in his voice.
“The rest are in my backpack.”
She thumbed the two shells into the gun and closed the cylinder. They both looked at the pistol for a moment.
“Hope we don’t need more than two shots,” said Benny.
“No kidding.” As she holstered the pistol, she glanced back the way they’d come, indecision stamped on her face.
“Look,” Benny said, “Carter and those other people said they saw the jet. If we circle around to find Chong, we’ll probably find them. Even with everything that just happened on the field, I’d still rather talk to Eve’s folks than . . . these guys.”
“Yes.” Nix brushed a tangle of red hair away from her face. “Damn it.”