Will pulled Rachel back. “Come on,” he said. “We’ll go another way.”
They’d started down a different path, the leather-clad woman following at a distance, when a dead man emerged from another one of the tents. Though not as funny as the fat woman, he seemed less aggressive or threatening. He kept trying to shuffle some cards as he staggered along. If he dropped a card, he’d slowly bend down to retrieve it before trying again and taking another step. Will and Rachel gave him some room as they continued their retreat and he made no move to attack or follow them.
Just as their surroundings finally started to look familiar to Rachel, a small black girl came out of one tent. The tent where the show had taken place. Rachel also recognized the girl from the night before. The child had a revolver in one hand and a bamboo stick in the other. She calmly considered Rachel and Will, then noticed the dead card dealer and leather-corseted lady.
Without any sign of fear, the girl stepped past Rachel and pointed her stick at the two dead people. “Did they go and let you all out?” she yelled at them. “Willy—you get back to your table. You know how nearsighted you are—there’s no way you can walk around out here. And Mistress Titania, you find the other dancing ladies, and you all either go out in the woods and keep running, if that’s what you want, or you get yourselves back in your tent. Do you hear me? I’m sure there’s gonna be men with guns here soon and I want you all either gone, or behaving yourselves when they get here. Do you understand? I don’t want you all hurt.”
Surprisingly, the two dead people complied with the orders almost immediately. The girl then turned toward Rachel and Will. “You two better be getting on, too,” she said. “I think the Professor and his friends set them all loose, and now they’re running around. They don’t usually mean any harm, but you never know, especially with strangers.”
“You were the girl I saw last night,” Rachel said. “In the tent.”
The girl appeared to consider her more carefully. “Oh, you were the lady who ran up and hit Doctor Jack and yelled at him,” she said. “I remember—you have such pretty hair. That was nice of you to help. I don’t know how much more the Professor could have taken. I’m glad you stopped it.”
“The dead man—you call him The Professor?” Rachel said.
“Yes, ‘cause he’s so smart.” The girl’s face suddenly lit up. “Are you his friend? Is that why you stopped Doctor Jack?”
“Yes,” Rachel said. “But I’m sorry you had to go through that.” She bit her lower lip to keep from crying at that admission, and didn’t know if she could keep talking to the girl without breaking down.
“It’s okay. I was mostly worried about the Professor. When you see him, can you tell him I’m sorry I sent him away? I’ve thought about it and I don’t blame him anymore.”
Rachel managed to nod and give an “Hm-mmm,” but she was on the verge of losing it in the face of such innocent love.
“You sent him away?” Will asked after a pause, holding on to Rachel. “When?”
“Just a little while ago,” the girl said. “I thought he was being mean when he and Miss Ramona and the fat man killed Doctor Jack. But I’ve been sitting and thinking about it, and maybe it wasn’t really their fault. He was awful mean to them. Please tell him that.”
“We will,” Will said. “But do you know where they went?”
“Oh, yes. He asked where the City Patrol base was, and I told him that way.” She pointed. “They can’t have gotten far, especially if they were stopping to let all these dead people loose. I almost wish they hadn’t done that—some of them like Willy really can’t get around. But I guess some of them will be happier if they’re free. We’ll see.”
“That’s very nice of you to worry about them,” Will said.
“You hurry on and find them,” the girl said as she moved back to the tent she’d come from. “I’m glad the Professor has friends. I was worried about him already.”
The child waved to them, then the tent flap closed behind her. As Will pulled Rachel along, she kept herself from sobbing, but finally let the tears flow freely as they scurried between the tents.
Chapter 39: Truman
Truman had been the one to think of releasing the other dead people, mostly because he felt sorry for them, but also to increase the confusion and give Ramona, Lou, and him a better chance of escape. It was still early enough in the morning that they had no trouble sneaking among the tents and buildings and unlocking cages and chains and collars. Truman felt some concern that the dead people might kill some living person who wasn’t so bad, but he hadn’t met many of those since coming here. Dalia was the only one he’d be really worried about, and she seemed quite capable of taking care of herself. Truman’s concern over the safety of the living people diminished further when he saw that most of the dead people either just sat there when they were released, or they immediately made their way out of the camp and toward the wilderness.
“Shouldn’t you have kept the gun, Truman?” Ramona asked as he led her and Lou out of the Dead End and into the surrounding woods, trying to head in the direction Dalia had indicated.
“Maybe,” he said. “I thought she might need it. And I hated how it felt, anyway.”
“Really? I kind of liked it when I held the cannon. Felt good. And that look on his face.”
“Then I’m glad you’re the one who used it.”
Ramona’s bloodthirstiness was a bit unnerving, but not nearly as upsetting to Truman as Dalia’s reprimand. Other than that, this morning had gone about as well as he could’ve expected. He really didn’t know if they’d find Lucy, or what would come of this, and his worries now turned to what would happen to him out in the wild—killed by other dead people, or by the living? Just sitting in the cold and heat with nothing to do? Well, it couldn’t be worse than what they’d been through. At least they were free, and if death came, it would only be a more radical kind of freedom for them.
From somewhere nearby, Truman heard gunfire. He stopped to listen. It seemed to come from where Dalia had said the City Patrol base was located. Truman’s first instinct was to flee from guns, but at the same time he wondered if Lucy might be in danger. He couldn’t decide what to do. The gunfire was followed by an explosion, powerful enough to cause ripples in a puddle at Truman’s feet. That only further confused and frightened him, and he looked at Ramona with embarrassment. A man was supposed to make decisions and solve problems, but he was powerless at the moment.
Ramona smiled at him, and even took his hand and squeezed it. “It’s okay, Truman,” she said. “Everybody’s scared of being shot. The girl said your woman was that way. We should go. Bad men are shooting. They usually shoot at dead people. We need to help.”
Truman now heard a sort of cheer, but it sounded funny, more like a call that dead people would make. This finally shook him from his indecision. “Let’s go,” he said.
The three of them continued, emerging from among the trees into an open area. A high fence was there, topped by barbed wire. Behind the fence were dilapidated buildings that didn’t look fit for habitation, but didn’t look fully abandoned either. They weren’t overgrown with kudzu or falling down completely, so people must have lived in them, though Truman couldn’t imagine how. Farther away, drifting above the buildings, he saw a dust cloud that he assumed was from the explosion.
They followed the fence until Ramona extended her arm and stopped. Three figures were coming toward them. At first, Truman felt terror, that these were guards with guns and everything would be over in a moment. But he and Ramona and Lou weren’t fast enough to make it back to the trees anyway, so they just stood there and awaited their fate. As the other people got closer, however, their movements didn’t look like those of the living. Good. These were people like him. Perhaps they’d know where Lucy was, though Truman wasn’t sure how many dead people could talk or understand. He pushed Ramona and Lou forward toward the strangers.
As they got closer, Truman could not believe i
t was Lucy, but the cloth across half her face was a pretty distinctive marking. It had to be her, leading two other dead women—one quite broad, the other tall and thin. It seemed to take Lucy a moment longer to recognize Truman, but as her pace increased, he knew she must’ve realized it was him as well.
“Truman,” she said as she threw herself at him. Her voice was the most beautiful thing he’d heard in weeks. Her grip as she held him was even stronger than he remembered.
“I didn’t think I was so lucky,” he whispered to her. If he’d still been able to shed tears, he would’ve cried for joy, but all he could do was hold on to her and breathe in her scent.
They only stayed there a moment, before she released him. Truman got a better look at her. He found the blood around her mouth a little disconcerting, but even that added to her beauty.
“These are my friends,” Lucy said. “Christine and Carole. This is Truman.”
The two dead women acknowledged him with nods. Only after an awkward pause did Truman realize he was supposed to give similar introductions. “Oh, this is Lou and Ramona,” he said. He thought Lucy’s eye might’ve flashed as she looked over Ramona, but Truman probably just imagined it.
“I’m glad you found your man,” the large woman, Christine, said. “What do you want to do now?”
“I don’t know,” Lucy said. Truman could only shake his head as he kept staring at her and thinking how happy he was.
“We should get back to the others,” Carole said.
“Yeah, we should,” Christine agreed. “We need to get them out of there before the food men show up and kill all of them.” She turned to Lucy. “But you should go with your man and his friends. Go off into the woods. You can be free of all this shit. You deserve it.”
“So do you,” Lucy said.
“Maybe we’ll find you later,” Christine replied. “But we need to get going.”
Lucy embraced her two friends, who started back the way they had come. “They’re right,” Ramona said. “We should get out of here.”
“What about Will and Rachel?” Lucy said.
How could she think of them? She was free, with Truman, and they should forget about the people who’d gotten them into all the pain they’d suffered over the last few weeks.
“What about them?” Truman asked, scowling at her for maybe the first time. “We don’t need them.”
Lucy smiled, in that way Truman always thought was so beautiful, even as he had to admit it looked a little like a snarl. “No, we don’t,” she said. “But they’re our friends.”
“We have new friends. People like us. It’s better, safer.” Truman had only thought of finding her, and he’d been unbelievably lucky to do so. He wasn’t about to go traipsing around trying to find those two. “Besides—how would we find them, anyway? We can’t get inside the city where they are.”
“No, I guess you’re right.” Truman was shocked at how sad she sounded at that. What was wrong with her? Her strength when she’d held him, together with the blood on her lips, had reminded him of how she really was—savage and powerful—but all this talk about Will and Rachel confused and frightened Truman. It didn’t seem natural or right to him.
“People coming,” Lou said, pointing back toward the trees. “Truman and ladies should run. Lou can’t run as fast. Go.”
Truman looked to where two figures were approaching them, then he heard one of them call his name, then Lucy’s. Truman looked at Lucy, and saw how excited she was at the appearance of Will and Rachel. Though Lucy’s look of joy gave Truman the usual thrill that it always did, he could hardly share her feelings. He knew the two living people would complicate things, as they always did, and he didn’t like that at all.
Chapter 40: Will
Will was thrilled and amazed to see Truman and Lucy safe. The other dead people—a tall, beautiful woman, and a big man in overalls with a ruined face—looked peculiar to Will, but not dangerous at all.
“Truman!” Rachel said as they got close. “You’re safe. And you found Lucy.”
“How did you find us?” Truman asked. Will thought that was an odd greeting, and Truman didn’t sound like his usual self. If the abuse were as Rachel had described, it didn’t surprise Will to find Truman aloof and suspicious, but it was still a bit of a shock, given how trusting and generous he’d always been.
“The girl back at the tent told us to follow you this way,” Rachel said. She also sounded different—a little hurt, it seemed, and contrite.
“How did you know I was in that tent?” Truman sounded even more suspicious with that reply.
“I—” Rachel looked to Will, then Lucy, then back to Truman. “I went there last night. I saw you. I tried to stop them. Then I went and got Will and we knew we had to get you out. God, I’m so sorry we waited. I’m sorry for you, too, Lucy. I didn’t know what was going on.”
Truman looked away. “You didn’t want to know, I think.” Will knew he was right, but on the other hand, he didn’t want to see Rachel hurt by the accusations. He just wanted to get out of there. It was the last legacy of this place—making them fight and blame one another.
Lucy stepped between them, her hand on Truman’s shoulder. “It’s all right,” she said softly. Then, a little louder, “I said it’s all right, Truman.”
“If you say so,” he replied, but still didn’t look at Rachel or Will, only at Lucy.
“We need to leave,” Will said. “Rachel and I are going to find the boat and get out of here. You can come with us if you want. I don’t think we can get your friends past the guards, though.”
Truman looked at the beautiful dead lady in the long, fur coat. She smiled at him. “It’s okay, Truman,” she said. “I can go with Lou. You stay with your woman and your friends. You talked about your books every night, when you didn’t talk about your woman. You go with them. We’ll be fine. Right, Lou?”
“Yeah,” the big dead man said. “Go somewhere quiet.”
The lady started to lead him away. “Definitely,” she said. “Or we could make some noise. You think you could fix a car?”
“Maybe. Lou’s not real smart, but you can figure things out and help. I think we could.”
“I think so too.”
“Bye, Truman.”
“Bye, Lou,” Truman said. “Goodbye, Ramona.”
“You take care,” she said over her shoulder as she and the one they called Lou walked away. Her eyes weren’t as dull as other dead people’s, and her smile flashed again. It was a funny thought, but Will couldn’t help admiring how Truman got all the prettiest dead ladies to like him. Sometimes being nice did pay off, he supposed, though he wished Truman were being nicer now, like he used to be.
Will rummaged in one of the bags they’d brought. “Guys, I know this isn’t nice,” he said, “but I think if we’re going to get past the guards, it should look like you are restrained. I got some rope, a couple belts. You can put them on loosely. It’s just until we get on the boat.”
Truman glared at the restraints, but Lucy stepped forward and took them from Will. “Good idea,” she said as she put the belt around Truman’s neck. He acquiesced to her touch, but still stole angry glances at Rachel, who stood farther away. She was partly turned away from them, but it looked to Will like she was crying.
Lucy turned her back to Truman so he could put the other belt on her. She paused and considered Rachel for a moment.
Lucy turned her attention back to Will. “You got a knife in there?” she said.
“Sure.” Will pulled out a thin boning knife with about an eight-inch blade from the bag. “You want it?” This had to be the first time he’d felt better about Lucy having a weapon, rather than Truman.
“Yes,” Lucy said as she took it, slipping it under the sleeve of her sweater. She turned to tie Truman’s hands together.
Will saw the handle of a Beretta in the bag as well. “You want a gun, too?” he said, offering it to Lucy. Maybe if he showed he trusted Lucy, Truman’s mood would soften
.
Lucy smiled and extended her hands toward Will, with her wrists together. “No,” she said. “Thank you for showing me how to use one before. I needed to know. But I don’t want one now. Tie my hands, please. Loose, like you said.”
Will stuck the Beretta under his belt in back, then started tying Lucy as she’d asked. He looked up at her as he worked, and she leaned her forehead against his again, as she had when they were on the boat, weeks before. This time it felt cold against his, but still oddly reassuring. They were as ready as they were going to be to try to make it to the boat.
Chapter 41: Lucy
The four of them neared the dock, passing among ruined buildings along the river bank. Lucy walked alongside Rachel, with Will and Truman ahead of them. The two living people held ropes tied like leashes to their dead companions’ collars. Will was right—they needed to do at least that, if they were going to pass as tame dead people and get away. But the charade seemed pretty thin, and Lucy didn’t put much faith in its success. Ever since she’d seen Rachel and Will coming toward her that morning, however, she knew she wanted to be with them and not wandering in the wilderness.
Truman had been right, of course, when he’d argued for leaving. He was right now, as she saw how angry and full of blame he was for their living friends. But for some reason that morning, those things didn’t matter to Lucy. At first it had been an almost aesthetic, sensual response—the two living people were so beautiful and alive, it just felt good to be around them, and an eternity of the dullness of the dead seemed so unappealing and dissatisfying to her now. But then, as she looked in Rachel’s eyes when she admitted her guilt to them, Lucy realized something more. She saw that in some way, the city had harmed the girl more than it had Lucy. Lucy could live with all the cruelty and brutality—though she now suspected that it had done much more damage to Truman than it had to her, and she didn’t know what to do about those wounds. But Rachel had been subjected to some more insidious contamination, and all Lucy could feel now was a need and a longing to cure her from that, remove the girl from the source of the disease and restore her innocence. That was a much better, more worthy goal than slinking off into the woods, and choosing it gave Lucy only joy and confidence.
Dying to Live: Last Rites Page 23
