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“For once they got the story right.”
They beamed at each other.
The Raggedy Man looked at the two reapers. “These are the two hotshots you’ve been bragging about?”
Saint John introduced them, and again the reapers bowed low.
“They got manners,” said the monster on the throne. His diction was rough and his voice coarse, but he had an undeniable air of complete command.
“They have much more than that, Homer,” said Saint John. “Between them, they have sent more sinners into the darkness than anyone else except Brother Peter. They are sharp as knives and dedicated to our holy purpose, and I bring them to you.”
Homer Gibbon, the Raggedy Man, the man who killed the world, sat back in his throne and smiled a broad, feral, happy smile. “And it’s not even my birthday.”
Brother Mercy could see tiny worms wriggling between the man’s yellow teeth.
PART TWELVE NEW ALAMO
Faith begins where it ends. And hope is the first breath taken after everything chokes you. None of this is supposed to be easy, broken feathers just make a different flight path.
—ANNE WALSH, “FLIGHT PATH”
48
“WELL,” SIGHED CHONG, “JUST WHEN I thought I couldn’t get more depressed…”
They were all sitting around Gutsy’s dining room table, Gutsy and her friends and the California kids. The remains of an early dinner lay like debris. Sombra was on a rug by the back door, quietly chewing on a beef bone. Gutsy had liberated him from quarantine, promising to keep him inside her house for at least the next day.
“I learned a while back,” Benny mused, poking at his potatoes with a fork, “never to say something as stupid as ‘Well, things can’t get worse.’?”
“No joke,” agreed Spider. He had a cup of tea cradled between his palms and stared down into it as if expecting answers to appear there.
Gutsy thought about Alice. On the way back from Misfit High, she’d stopped to knock on Alice’s door, but there was no answer.
“Hey, Earth calling Gutsy Gomez,” said Alethea, snapping her fingers, and Gutsy jerked, realizing that someone had asked her a question.
“What… ?”
“I asked,” said Alethea with false patience, “what you thought about this whole Dòmi thing. And these wild men freaks.”
Gutsy set down her bowl. “You won’t like what I think.”
“What exactly is it you think we won’t like?” Alethea asked.
“Well,” said Gutsy slowly, “I think we need to go out to the base and try to find that stuff. We need to get all of the Dòmi so we can handle any new wild man attacks, and we need to look for some of the stuff Morton needs to make drugs for Chong, Sarah, and the other infected people.”
“Sam and Joe are looking for Site B,” said Chong.
“Looking for, sure. Doesn’t mean they’ll find it. Doesn’t mean they’ll get back here in time. Same goes for Nix and Lilah.”
“Sure,” Benny said, “but that’s two tries at the same time.”
“And going to the base would be three. That increases our odds by a third.”
“It also increases the chances of getting killed,” said Alethea. “It’s a stupid plan.”
Gutsy shrugged. “Give me a better one that doesn’t involve just sitting around waiting.”
“At the risk of insulting you,” said Chong, “I kinda agree with the whole ‘you’re crazy’ thing.”
