Was this Nix receptive?
That was the hardest call. She seemed open to new experiences, and would readily listen to advice or information about the best ways to do things, the best routes, safety in the Ruin, all sorts of things. But that was only receptivity along the lines of a file cabinet—information was stored, but Benny had no idea of how it was being processed.
Was this the Nix he’d fallen in love with?
No. That Nix was gone. If not forever, then at least for now. There was hardly any trace of her left.
That left a final and dreadful question. One that he had been debating for a couple of weeks now.
Was he in love with this Nix?
Benny searched and searched inside his head and heart, and he just simply did not know. The only consolation was that he didn’t understand this Nix. Maybe when he did, things would get better.
He knew that Nix had always wanted to leave Mountainside. He and Chong both considered her a visionary; she had big, but practical, dreams about going beyond the fence line to make a new home out here in the Ruin. But that was before her mother was murdered and Nix was abducted. It was before Nix had been forced to fight in the zombie pits at Gameland, where she’d encountered the reanimated zombie of Charlie Pink-eye. It was before Tom died.
After all those things, Nix had changed.
Now, standing in front of the crashed plane, with proof of ugliness and madness out here in the Ruin, Benny looked into those emerald eyes and did not see anyone he recognized.
All this, all these jumbled thoughts, crashed through his mind in the space of a second or two. Most of the thoughts were rehashes of issues that had been hanging unresolved on the walls of his brain.
Benny turned away from her stare, unable to look into her eyes any longer. The Nix he knew was not there, and he didn’t want this new Nix to see the agony that must be in his own eyes.
He walked to the base of the T-bars and looked up at the zoms.
He cleared his throat. “I think they were the pilots,” he said.
“Why?”
“The uniforms. There were pictures in some of the books.”
“Should we . . . quiet them?”
Benny looked up at the dead, who looked down at him with empty eyes and hungry mouths. Their hands pawed at the air, gray hands opening and closing on nothing.
“No,” he said. “They’re not hurting anyone.”
Benny felt her come to stand beside him.
“I’m going to climb up into the plane,” she said.
Benny cleared his throat. “It’s not safe.”
“Safe?” Nix echoed faintly. “When are we ever going to be safe?”
“I—”
“I’m serious, Benny. Unless we find where this plane came from, all we’re ever going to do is keep running for our lives. Is that what you want? Is that why you came out here?”
He looked up at the cloudless blue sky and did not look at her. “Nix, you know exactly why I came out here.”
“Look, Benny . . . ,” she said in the softest voice he’d heard her use in weeks. “I know things have been bad.”
He dared not turn. This was hardly the first time she’d tuned into what he was thinking, or perhaps what he was feeling. Nix was always empathic. Benny said nothing.
“Give me time,” she said.
She did not wait for him to answer. She turned away and walked down the slope to the piece of plastic sheeting that hung from the open hatch. Benny turned his head ever so slightly and watched as she began to climb.
48
LILAH DID NOT SCREAM A WAR CRY AS SHE JUMPED DOWN TO FACE THE boars. She did not need to hype herself up for the fight; every nerve in her body was already blazing with the anticipation of battle and pain.