The Garden of Darkness

At the sound of his voice she scrambled away, first towards the body, and then, as if surprised to find it dead, towards the woods.

He ran after her and caught her by the arms; she began to scream.

“I’m not a Cured,” he said. “I’m all right. I’m here to bring you someplace safe. I’m here to bring you home.”

She landed a good kick on his shin; he swore, but he held her tightly, and she began to settle down. He let her go, and she looked at him appraisingly.

“You’re a grownup,” she said.

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t anyone come before? Why didn’t anyone come when Pest killed my parents and my brother?” A hank of hair had fallen into her face. He reached forward to pushed it back; she flinched, and then she let him touch her.

“It’s been a busy time,” he said.

“Yeah. I guess it has. Are you Child Services?”

“You could say that. You could say I’m all that’s left of it.”

She gestured towards the body. “Well, now we’re going to have to do something about Luthe.”

His full name had been Luther, she told the Master. They had only just met. She had seen that his face was flushed, but she hadn’t expected him to die.

“He was nice,” she said.

“Have some apple juice,” said the Master. “You’ll feel better.”

He shuffled through his pack until he found two little boxes of apple juice. He could tell she was dehydrated.

They drank juice together solemnly. He gave her a choice of the toys in his pack, and she picked out the Princess Leia Star Wars figurine.

“I haven’t had apple juice in forever,” she said. She quietly began to cry.

“I have more apple juice,” he said. “I have more everything at the mansion. There’re animals, too. Ducks and baby ducks. We just found a nanny goat—she’s very friendly; she’ll nibble at your clothes. And there are children there who’ll be happy to see you.”

“I haven’t seen any other children.”

“There aren’t many around.”

“Luthe saw one.”

“He did? How close? Where?”

“Near a cabin in the woods, not these woods, but far away. He saw a girl and a dog, but the dog was huge and black, and Luthe didn’t like it.”

“I don’t know your name,” said the Master.

“Eliza.”

“Let’s go, Eliza. Don’t worry about any girls with black dogs. You’ll be safe with me.”

As they left the clearing, the Master heard the sound of a crow. He could smell it, too. He thought of Luthe’s eyes. Crows always went for the soft parts first.

He began telling Eliza more about life at the mansion, and about Britta and Doug and the others. He kept her too busy to think about burying Luthe.

He took her hand.

“Time to go, my blue-eyed girl.”





CHAPTER THIRTEEN





DARIAN





THEY HAD JUST finished breakfast, and the table was littered with the remains: three small boxes of cereal, two little white donuts, an empty bag of Cheetos, a bowl of oatmeal that Sarai had rejected. Jem surveyed the damage ruefully.

“I hope we don’t get scurvy,” he said.

“When we go to the next place,” said Mirri, “we can look for vitamins.”

They were almost completely packed and ready to go. There simply wasn’t enough food in Fallon left to support all four of them for the long term. The pig was coming with them on the hoof.

Jem took the last donut. “We’d better feed the pig.”

“It’s Mirri’s turn,” said Sarai.

“Go on, Mirri,” said Jem. “The stuff for the pig’s in the bucket next to the kitchen door.”

Mirri wrinkled her nose and hauled the bucket out the side door, slopping some of the leftovers on the floor.

“I’ll get that later,” she said. And then Mirri was gone for a long while.

“You think she’s all right?” asked Clare. “Maybe Bear and I should go and take a look.” But a moment later, Mirri walked back in the door.

“You took forever,” Sarai said.

“Don’t forget to wipe the floor,” Jem said automatically.

Mirri was silent, and Jem looked up at her. She looked afraid.

“What is it?” asked Jem.

“The pig got out.” Mirri started weeping big, wet little girl tears.

“What?” Jem was on his feet.

“The pig got out and it’s all my fault.” She hiccupped. “I opened the gate too wide.”

“Honey,” said Clare. “Stuff like this happens. We’ll catch the pig.”

“Let’s go,” said Jem. “Bear should be able to follow its scent. Bear won’t kill the pig, will he, Clare?”

“No,” said Clare. Doubtfully.

“The boy who was hanging around the pig pen said he’d help us, too,” said Mirri. “So maybe it won’t take so long.”

“What boy?” asked Jem.

“The boy. The boy I found.”

“Explain,” Jem said.

“He was watching our pig.”