“More kids, too. Nineteen.”
Benny cleared a space on the ground and, taking a small stick, began drawing a map of the camp. The others helped, making additions and corrections. Benny asked Lilah to mark where the landmarks were: Coldwater Creek, the blocked highway, the ranger station, and other places that had factored into recent events. Benny studied the map for a long time in silence. He rolled over onto his back and marked the position of the sun. In the Scouts, Mr. Feeney had taught them how to tell the time of day by using the sun, and Benny had a rough guess as to when it would set.
“Okay, we have about five hours until twilight,” he whispered.
“Less,” said Lilah, and jerked a thumb over her shoulder. They looked to where she was pointing and saw a line of heavy clouds.
“Rain?” asked Nix. “Will that help or hurt us?”
“Rain is bad,” said Lilah. “Can’t hear, can’t see.”
“Neither can they,” said Benny. “If it rains, we deal with it. We’ll find a way to make it work for us.”
Lilah took a last look over the edge. “Need go. Much … to …” She stopped, and Benny could see her working something out, then she said, very slowly, “I need to go, now. I have much to do.” She almost blushed. “I don’t … think … the same way I read. It is … harder to put thoughts … into sentences.”
“You’re doing better than I would have if I lived alone all this time,” said Nix. “And you’re doing better than Benny does now.”
“Hey!” said Benny, but he was grinning.
“It’s strange,” said Lilah. “I never thought I would … want to talk. To people. I just talk to Annie and George. In my head.”
For the first time since they’d met the Lost Girl, Benny felt that a window had opened into who she was. It was only open a crack, but he thought he caught a glimpse of the stark loneliness and sadness that defined her interior life, just as the weapons and quick actions defined her exterior world.
“Lilah,” he said, “when this is all over …”
“Yes?”
“I’d like to go on knowing you. I’d like us to be friends.” He cut a look at Nix, who was listening intently. “You, me, Nix. And our other friends. Morgie Mitchell and Lou Chong.”
“‘Friends,’” Lilah echoed, as if it was a word she’d never encountered in any of her reading. “Why?”
Benny opened his mouth to speak, but it was Nix who answered. “Because after all of this, after everything that’s happened to us, Lilah … We’re already family.”
It wasn’t exactly what Benny was going to say, but what she said was right. He nodded. The Lost Girl considered it for a while, then said, “Let’s talk about that tomorrow.”
“Okay,” said Nix, “I’d like—”
“If there is one.” She turned away and checked her weapons as she prepared to depart.
“Lilah,” said Benny, “are you sure you can do this?”
Instead of a smile or some reassuring comment, Lilah simply said, “Have to try.” Then she paused and looked Benny straight in the eye. “Why?”
“Why … what?”
“You could go back. To your town. You and Nix. These people”—she waved a hand in the direction of the kids in the pen—“aren’t yours. So … why?”
Benny didn’t have a ready answer for that. There had not been time to explore his own feelings about everything that had happened or was still happening. He would liked to have made a bold speech about honor and dignity, or fired off a remark of the kind that would be quoted by future generations. All he managed was: “If we don’t do something to stop this, who will?”
Lilah considered him, her hazel eyes seeming to open doors into his thoughts. She must have seen something that she liked, or perhaps it was the simple honesty of his words, because she nodded gravely.
“Have to try,” she said.