And Tom Imura.
“Are you two …,” Morgie began, but before he could finish, Benny was on his feet and heading toward the reservoir on the far side of town. He left the Zombie Cards behind—except for the one with the picture of the Lost Girl.
“What’s his malfunction?” Morgie asked. “What, he fall in love with this chick, just because she’s built?”
Chong said, “Do yourself a favor, Morg. Next time you’re staring at a girl’s boobs, look up. You’ll be shocked to learn it, but there’s going to be a face up there. Nose, mouth, eyes. And behind the eyes is an actual person.”
“Yes, Confucius, I know. Girls are people. Wisdom of the ages. Nix is a girl and therefore a person. I know that.”
“Really?” said Chong as he watched Benny vanish around a corner. “Maybe if you looked her in the eyes, she’d know that you know.”
He got to his feet, shoved his hands down deep into his pockets, and headed home. Morgie watched him go, wondering what the hell had just happened.
16
THERE WAS A SIGN ON A POLE THAT READ ROB SACCHETTO—EROSION ARTIST. It hung from two lengths of rusted chain and creaked in the hot western wind. The outside of the house was painted with murals of lush rainforests filled with exotic birds and brightly colored frogs. Benny had barely glanced at the murals when he’d come to apply for a job, but now he lingered to look. The paintings were filled with life—monkeys, insects, flowering plants—but no people.
The artist opened the door on the second knock. He wore low-slung jeans that seemed to be held together by dried paint, and a plaid shirt with the sleeves cut off. His feet were bare, and he had a steaming cup of coffee hooked on one multicolored finger. He peered down at Benny.
“You’re that kid,” he said.
Benny nodded.
“I thought I told you that I couldn’t use you.”
“I’m not here about the job.”
“Okay. Why are you … ?” the artist’s voice trailed off as Benny held out the card. Sacchetto looked at the image and then at Benny.
“Who is she?” Benny asked.
Shutters dropped behind the artist’s eyes. “It’s just a card, kid. They’re sold in every settlement in California.”
“I’ve been out to the Rot and Ruin.” When that didn’t seem to do much, Benny added, “With my brother, Tom.”
Nothing.
“Tom Imura.”
The artist studied him, stalling by taking a long sip of his coffee.
“I need to know who she is,” Benny said.
“Why?”
“Because I believe in her. Because she’s real. My friends think she’s dead or that she’s just a ghost story. But I know she’s real.”
“Yeah? How do you know that she’s real?”
“I just know.”
Sacchetto drained his cup. “D’you drink coffee, kid?”
“Sure.”
“I’ll brew another pot. This might take a while.” He wasn’t smiling when he said it, but he stepped back to let Benny enter. The artist paused to look at something that caused his whole body to tense, and Benny turned to see the Motor City Hammer, crossing the street toward the livery stable. However, the Hammer was looking directly at Sacchetto, and he wore a peculiar smile on his ugly face.