Over Your Dead Body

“You were, a few minutes ago.”


“That must get really disconcerting,” she said.

“Not as disconcerting as you refusing to tell me who you are.”

“Sorry,” she said. “I just assume you know.”

There were only two personalities, aside from Brooke, who would expect that level of closeness. “Nobody?”

“I guess I was wrong,” she said, and winked. “It’s me again, babe. Marci.”

All the levity drained away.

“Where are we going?” asked Marci. “And don’t say ‘to ogle cattle.’”

“To Dallas,” I said. Marci was back. Would this happen all the time now?

“What’s in Dallas?” she asked. “Another Withered?”

“We’re going to pick up another supply drop.”

She looked incredulous. “Someone’s dropping us supplies?”

Apparently not one of the memories that transferred over. “One of the FBI agents we worked with was a former … something,” I said. “Secret agent, Jason Bourne, man-of-mystery kind of person. He died in Fort Bruce, the night we ran away, and we took his go bag—like, all his fake IDs and passports and things like that. There was a list of other little stashes around the country—I assume not a complete list—with little care packages for himself. We’ve been hitting them when we’re in the neighborhood, and Dallas is on the way to Gartner, where the next Withered is supposed to be, so we’re going to stop and see what’s in the stash.”

Marci nodded, thinking about it. “What’s usually there?”

“More IDs—you have no idea how many different IDs this guy had—and some money. It’s our only real source of income. Usually a change of clothes, which never fit us but we can pawn them, and then a gun and some bullets, and sometimes other stuff. The one in Cincinnati had a whole wilderness survival kit: a shovel, a tent, some waterproof matches, a couple of wool blankets. All in a big duffle bag.”

“What happened to it?”

“We still have some of it,” I said. “We moved what we could to our backpacks, and used the tent a bit, but had to leave it behind one night to make a quick exit.”

“Withered?”

“FBI.”

She thought about that a moment. “So they found the campsite, and they know we were using a secret agent tent.”

“If that was a standard-model tent commonly used by secret agents,” I said. “I don’t know if that’s a thing. It was a pretty good tent, I guess; it folded up really small.” I shrugged. “I don’t know what that would tell them, though.”

“As long as they don’t know where any of your friend’s stashes are,” she said, “it doesn’t tell them anything.”

“They might be waiting for us,” I admitted. It was a possibility I hadn’t considered; Potash had always been so careful, I couldn’t imagine even his bosses knew where he kept his supplies.

“Are we really that important?” asked Marci. “Why do they want us so bad—did you commit a crime you haven’t told me about?”

“Only if the law protects ancient demons,” I said. “I guess the car we took from Fort Bruce was technically government property, but we abandoned that in the next town, so they probably got it back.”

“What happened in Fort Bruce?”

“Our war came out of the shadows,” I said. “The only reason it didn’t stay out is that everyone who saw it is dead: dozens of people and a handful of Withered. Brooke and I were the only ones who made it out alive. Well, and you, I guess. And Nobody. The media thinks it was organized crime, some kind of mob war or something, but nobody knows who did it or why.”

“Including the FBI,” said Marci. “You’re the only one who knows what happened.”

“They know what we were doing there and they know what we were planning the night it all went wrong. But then our whole team died, and without anyone to report back in, the FBI has no idea how they died. At least not in any detail. For all I know they think I did it.” I paused. “And I did kill one human, so I guess they’re partly right.”

Marci looked at me for a moment, studying my face. “Was it self-defense?”

“Sort of.” I looked out at the passing hills, brown scrub grass dotted here and there with trees. “If I hadn’t killed him I would have died, so I decided that was close enough. But no, he wasn’t actively threatening our lives at the time.”

Marci paused a moment longer, but I couldn’t tell if she was still looking at me or not. “Was he at least bad?”

“Would that make it better?”

“I don’t know.”