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“Never!” declared Nix, clutching Tom to her.
“Don’t …,” Tom said weakly as he fought to get to his knees. His eyes were burning and his sweating face was bright with fever.
“Why don’t you just give up?” snapped Benny as he backed away. “Your crew is dead. Gameland is destroyed. Why are you still—”
“I am Gameland, boy! Don’t you get that? While I’m alive, it’s alive, and I’m going to build it back, bigger and better than ever. I’ll build it in the center of Mountainside if I have to … and there won’t be anyone left to stop me. Not you and not your brother. Look at him! He’s halfway to dead already. He just needs a little push.”
Benny saw the future. It was as if the whole world had become bright and clear, and in that clarity he saw how this was going to play out. With sinking horror and grief he knew that there was only one path to walk, and that path was a red one. Preacher Jack began to raise his sword for the final cut. It was all spiraling down.
Benny had backed away as far as he could. Tom was beside him, on his knees, blood spilling down his stomach and thighs. With painful slowness Tom reached over his shoulder to grasp the handle of his sword.
“Gameland is closed,” he whispered. “That is the law.”
“There is no law,” snarled Preacher Jack as he lunged forward. Benny turned away from the cut, his hand moving toward Tom. Tom began to pull his sword, but there was not enough strength left in him. He knew it. Preacher Jack knew it. Benny and Nix knew it. The sword came only partway out of the sheath, and Tom’s hand began to open as his strength failed.
Then Benny’s hand closed around the handle, just below Tom’s. It was a sloppy grip, awkwardly placed, but it had power in it, and Benny turned and the sword ripped itself free from the scabbard as Benny turned and Preacher Jack’s sword whistled through the air and Benny turned … and turned… .
And the moment froze.
Preacher Jack stood there, tall and triumphant, his lips curled into his crooked smile.
Tom Imura knelt, head bowed, hands empty.
Benny stood between Tom and Preacher Jack, his right hand extended all the way out to one side, the sword—Tom’s kami katana, the demon blade—extended far into the night. All along the silvery edge of the blade there were threads that glistened like black oil.
Preacher Jack spoke first.
He said, “No.”
Quietly. Wetly.
Then his sword dropped from his hand, and with infinite slowness he leaned backward and fell onto the grass. There was a line of black wetness stretched across his throat from side to side.
Nix looked up at Benny and saw that his arm was starting to tremble. Then his mouth. She got quickly to her feet and pulled him to her, pushing his arm down. The demon sword fell, and drops of blood flew from it.
Chong staggered to his feet and put a toe under Preacher Jack’s shoulder and rolled him over. He bent and slid a knife from the old man’s belt, placed the tip at the sweet spot, and shoved. Tears gleamed like molten silver on his cheeks, but his eyes were as hard as pebbles.
He turned to look at Benny, who gave a single distant nod of approval. Lilah staggered to her feet, and the four of them closed in around Tom. Tears rolled down their faces as they worked, pressing bandages in place, propping Tom’s head in Benny’s lap. From the forest the bounty hunters came running. Solomon Jones and Sally were first. J-Dog and the others followed. They lit torches and sorted through their medical kits.
“Oh God,” cried Sally as she studied the wound in Tom’s chest. “Get me a needle and thread!”
Tom smiled and shook his head. A small movement. “No,” he said. “No …”
Nix looked around at the bounty hunters, panic and fury in her face. “We have to do something!”
Sally Two-Knives pulled Nix to her, and despite the pain it must have caused her, she held Nix to her bosom.
Solomon knelt and touched Tom’s arm. “We’ll take care of them, Tom,” he promised. “We’ll get them all back home—”
“No, Solomon,” Tom whispered. “No … that’s up to … them. It’s their lives … their choice.”
Solomon nodded and sat down, his eyes filled with sadness and tears.
“Benny,” Tom said, so softly that only his brother heard him. Benny bent close.
“I’m here, Tom.”
“Benny … I … I want you to give me your word.”
