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“I know,” Benny said weakly. He stared at the zoms. Each of them had a network of thin wires wrapped around their heads, with sockets drilled into their sinuses, ears, and foreheads. God only knew what that was for.
Nix found a blank writing tablet on one of the crates, rolled it up, and lit it. It was a small torch, but better than holding a match. She held it up as they moved carefully down the corridor, looking at every zom, making sure each one was securely lashed in place.
“If any of them as much as twitches, I’m going to punch a Benny-shaped hole right through the wall,” he said.
“Just don’t get in my way,” said Nix.
The muted moan of the zoms followed them.
“God,” she said, “I can’t stand to look at them.”
“I know.”
Benny saw a row of blue boxes against one wall and sidled past the front row of seated zoms. Each box was labeled:
HOPE 1
AMERICAN NATION BIOLOGICAL RESEARCH AND TESTING FACILITY
FIELD RESEARCH & RECORDS
There were over eighty boxes.
“Lot of research,” he murmured.
“What?” asked Nix from across the bay.
Benny turned away. “Nothing,” he said. “Just junk. Let’s get the heck out of here.”
They crept past the zoms again, hurried down the corridor, and stepped into the hatch. Nix dropped the torch and stamped it out as Benny pulled the door shut.
They peered over the edge of the hatch, saw only empty desert and the sparse forest, and climbed down the plastic sheeting.
“Let’s go,” said Nix as she swung her leg over the edge.
“I’ll be down in a sec,” said Benny as he fished his matches out of his vest pocket. “There’s plenty of wax here. I’m going to reseal the doors. Maybe they won’t know we’ve been in here.”
Nix nodded and began climbing down. “Don’t take too long.”
It wasn’t difficult work. Benny used some dried twigs from among the debris to hold the flame, and he picked up all the wax he could find and dribbled it over the handles, then pressed the red ribbons back in place. The original job had been thorough but not neat, and his finished product looked about the same. He nodded, satisfied, then ground the burning twig underfoot and moved to the open hatch.
He was just about to call Nix’s name when he heard her scream.
Benny saw why.
She stood in the clearing near where they had exited the forest earlier, but she was not alone.
She was surrounded by a dozen reapers.
77
SAINT JOHN STOOD ON A ROCKY OUTCROP THAT OFFERED AN EXCELLENT view of the forest, the plateau, and the surrounding desert. Brother Peter and other trusted reapers had come and gone a dozen times over the last hour, bringing him information on everything that happened inside the forest.
“Observe only,” Saint John had instructed them. “Do not be seen, and do not interfere until you have talked to me.”
These reapers were his, heart and soul, and they obeyed without question. They were also very smart and highly trained. They moved like ghosts and they watched like owls. For some of them it was hard not to take action. It was as if the knives at their belts ached to open red mouths in every person who moved under the desert sun.
As his reapers brought him pieces of the strange puzzle, Saint John assembled them into a picture whose image did not entirely surprise him, though it saddened him, threatening to break his heart.
