Bits & Pieces (34 page)

“Oh yeah.”

They stood side by side and watched the late afternoon shadows creep out from under the trees, hiding one by one
the hundreds of living dead who stood like silent sentinels in the field beyond the fence.

(The Imura house, next day)

Benny Imura screamed like a ten-year-old girl.

He dodged, too, and the sword missed him by inches. Then he froze as the affect-echo of his shriek rolled back to him after bouncing off the line of trees. He looked around at the faces. Nix Riley, Morgie Mitchell, Lilah, Tom, Chong. All staring at him.

“Wow,” said Chong, “that was manly.”

Benny flushed a brilliant crimson and brought his wooden sword up in a defensive posture.

“I didn't hit you,” said Nix Riley, who stood five feet away, the tip of her wooden sword pointing to the grass between them. Her pretty, freckled face glowed with effort and intensity. The wooden bokken and the insanely fast and accurate way she handled it were totally at odds with her short stature and curly ponytail. “No need to cry.”

“I am not crying,” growled Benny. “That was my
kiai
.”

“Your
kiai
,” echoed Chong. A smile trembled on his lips. “That's the spirit shout that's supposed to strike fear into the hearts of your enemies. You're going with a little-girl scream?”

“It wasn't a scream,” insisted Benny. “It was a high-pitched yell.”

“Uh-huh,” said Chong.

“A hunting call.”

“Right,” said Nix.

“Like eagles use.”

“Sure,” said Tom.

“It was a battle cry—”

“Dude,” said Morgie, who sat on the bench, his shaved head still bandaged. “You screamed like a little girl. I'm kind of embarrassed to know you.”

“No,” said Lilah before Benny could reply. The Lost Girl, with her snow-white hair and feral eyes, stood leaning on her spear. “Not like a little girl.”

“Ha!” declared Benny. “You see? I told you it was a—”

“It was like a pig,” said Lilah.

Benny whirled toward her. “No, it wasn't—”

“A little pig,” she said. “They squeal like that when you try to catch them.”

Benny turned away from her and saw this information register on the faces of each of the others. Even Tom was losing the battle to hide a smile.

“It's a war cry,” Benny said between gritted teeth.

“The war cry of a ferocious piglet,” suggested Nix.

Benny raised his sword and waited for Nix to do the same.

Tom called, “
Hajime!
” The Japanese command to begin.

Instantly both wooden swords flashed out, and there was a sharp
klack!
as blade met blade. Nix attacked with a flurry of overhand and lateral cuts, and Benny shifted in a circle, taking many small steps in order to keep his feet balanced and in constant contact with the ground. The blades slithered and crunched and
tokked
over and over again as they moved.
Benny ignored Morgie's constant oinking sounds and the fake eagle cries from Chong.

Nix was incredibly good with a sword, even though she had been training only as long as Benny—five short weeks. Benny was a reasonably good athlete, but better at baseball and wrestling than swordplay. Nix was a natural, and in the instant after Tom started each match, her face underwent a change from the smiling, freckly girl who Benny loved to something
else
. Infinitely more intense, incredibly focused. And ferocious. Even though she lacked Lilah's years of experience, Nix was every bit as aggressive.

It impressed Benny.

But it also scared him.

Her attack never faltered. She never backed off. Her sword flashed and moved in a blur, and it was all Benny could do to defend himself. Tom had taught him how to deal with aggression: evade and protect, then look for a lull and attack. But Nix never paused; there was no lull.

Gradually the catcalls and jokes from the others faded as the duel went on. And on.

Benny lost count of how many strikes he blocked; and the only attacks he managed were weak counterattacks intended to prevent a combination. He gave ground constantly.

Then Benny saw something that absolutely chilled him. Something that almost made him forget to block.

It was Nix's mouth. Her lips.

As she fought, with every strike of her sword, her lips formed a word.

A name.

Charlie.

The name of the man who had killed Nix's mother.

Charlie Pink-eye.

With sickening clarity, Benny realized that Nix was not sparring with him; she wasn't playing. She was
fighting
.

There was a wildness in her green eyes that scared Benny. It pierced his heart with all the force of an arrow.

“Nix,” he said, but his voice was lost in the sound of wood battering against wood. When he looked into her eyes, he was sure—absolutely positive—that Nix was not seeing him. Not a chance. She was somewhere else entirely. Maybe in her house on that horrible night, when nothing she could do was enough to save her mother. Or out in the Ruin as a helpless prisoner of Charlie, the Hammer, and their men. Or in the bounty hunters' camp during the battle. Nix had wanted to strike Charlie down herself, but events had gone a different way. Nix had been robbed of that moment.

Of that
closure
.

Benny's arms began to tremble from the effort of blocking the attacks, but Nix's blows were every bit as sure and strong.

Does she know?
he wondered.
Where is her head right now?

“Nix,” he said again, louder, and he could hear concern and maybe even a little panic in his own voice.

The sword kept coming, faster and harder. Benny didn't dare risk anything but defense. If he tried to simply step back, Nix's bokken would crush his skull.

“Nix!” This time he shouted it.

Her mouth formed the hated name. Over and over again.

“Nix!”

There was a blur of movement and a flash of silver, and
Nix's sword suddenly jerked to a stop in mid-strike, the edge slamming to a stop against a metal pole.

With another sharp cry, Benny staggered back and fell hard on his butt.

He stared at the tableau.

Lilah stood between him and Nix, her spear held high and in a wide grip. Nix's sword had met the shaft of that spear and stopped there. And then Tom was there, stepping in quickly and gently to take the bokken from Nix's hands. Nix barely noticed either of them. Instead she stared at Benny, who sat splay-legged on the grass.

Across the yard, Chong and Morgie stared with open mouths and unblinking eyes, all jokes forgotten.

Nix's eyes blazed with weird lights for a heartbeat longer.

Then she blinked, instantly confused by what she was seeing, what she was doing.

“W-what—?” she murmured, as if someone had asked her a question. A half smile wavered on her lips. “What?”

Tom cleared his throat. “Okay,” he said softly, “let's call it a day? Pie and iced tea?”

Nix turned and looked at her hands. They were flushed red from holding the sword with such force. Then she looked at Benny, who still sat on the grass.

“I'm . . .” But that was all she got out; her face immediately crumpled into a wince of pain as the first heavy sobs broke from her chest. She whirled and ran out of the yard and up the path toward town.

Benny flung his sword away and scrambled to his feet to run after her, but Tom blocked him with a hand to his chest.

“Don't,” he said.

“I have to,” insisted Benny.

“What's going on?” demanded Morgie, getting heavily to his feet. Chong did too, and even though he said nothing, his intelligent eyes were cutting from Benny to Tom to Nix's diminishing figure.

Benny pushed Tom's hand away and headed for the gate, but Lilah moved faster. She thrust her spear into Benny's hand, vaulted the rail like a gazelle, and raced after Nix faster than Benny ever could.

“Hey!” Benny yelled.

Tom rested his hand on Benny's shoulder. “No, kiddo. Let them go.”

Morgie and Chong came up to stand with them, and the four of them watched the figures dwindle in the distance.

“What's going on?” Morgie asked again, but there was less force in his question this time. When Benny glanced at him, he saw understanding blossoming in his friend's eyes. Chong was already there.

They watched the road for a long time, even though there was nothing to see.

Chong said, “On First Night, everybody saw someone they love die.”

Tom nodded.

“That's why the whole town is like the way it is, isn't it?”

“Yes,” said Tom. “They used to call it post-traumatic stress disorder. Now . . . it's just the way things are. Everyone has been damaged by grief, and most people think there's no escape.”

“Is there?” asked Benny.

Tom sighed. “For my generation? I don't know. Maybe not. Most of the adults have given up hope.”

“I meant . . . for Nix,” said Benny. “Is she always going to be like this? I mean . . . it wasn't zoms who killed her mom. It was Charlie, and he's dead.”

“I don't know,” said Tom. “Everything in this town reminds Nix of her mom. Everything always will.”

“That's why she wants to leave,” said Morgie, and they all turned to look at him. “I know she says it's 'cause she wants to find that plane you guys saw, but that ain't it. She don't want to be
here
anymore. I don't think she can be here.”

The comment was so unlike Morgie that they all stared at him. Morgie scratched at the edge of his bandage and kept looking down the road. After a while, Tom nodded.

“I know exactly how she feels,” he said, and without further comment walked slowly back to the house.

The three boys stood at the wooden fence for long minutes.

“This is all going to change,” murmured Morgie. “Ain't it?”

Benny and Chong didn't look at him.

“Nix. Tom. Us. All of it's over, ain't it?”

Chong opened the garden gate. “I'd better get home. I have work in the morning.”

They watched him walk along the path under the summer trees.

After a moment, Morgie sighed and followed.

Benny Imura stood at the open fence, pulled in so many directions at once that all he could do was stand there.

Then he turned around, crossed the yard, and picked up his sword. The handle was cool from lying in the grass, and he adjusted his hold on it, feeling the balance.

He went over to the old car tire Tom had hung on a rope
from a tree. When he was little he'd swung on that tire, but he wasn't that little kid anymore.

With a whistle and thud he swung the sword and hit the tire. It was an awkward hit, poorly executed because his arms ached and his mind was splintered. He stepped back, took a breath, and swung again.

A more solid hit this time, but still not right.

He swung again. And again. Not letting up, not dropping the sword even when the ache in his arms turned to fire. He couldn't. To do that would allow him to be weak; it would keep his skills at too low a level. And he could not afford that. He could not risk that.

As much as he hated the thought, Benny Imura knew for sure that he would need to use that sword the right way. The
real
way. The way a fighter would. The way a zombie hunter would.

And . . . he would probably need it soon. The world seemed to be spinning him in that direction.

As he struck and struck and struck, he did not mouth the name of their enemy. He did not say “Charlie.” Instead Benny mouthed a different word. One that tapped a different source of power than the well of hate from which Nix drank. He struck and struck and struck for what he thought and hoped was a better purpose. A cleaner one.

“Nix,” he breathed, as he trained to fight the monsters he knew lived in his world. “Nix.”

It put power into every single blow.

Benny isn't like he used to be.

I know I'm not.

Chong's changing too. Since we've come out to the Ruin, he's gotten tougher. But also more afraid. It's weird, because both things seem to be happening at the same time in him.

Even Lilah's changing. She used to be so sure about everything. I guess living alone for so long and having no one to answer to will do that. Now she's part of us, and she's part of a couple. Her and Chong. And she's part of a quest.

And we're all Tom's samurai. Even with
him gone. Or maybe more so because he's gone.

We're all changing into something else.

It's scary.

But I like it.

New York City