Rot & ruin by Jonathan Maberry

Author:Jonathan Maberry [Jonathan Maberry]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Jeunesse
ISBN: 9781442402324
Published: 2010-10-05T19:32:40+00:00

29

BENNY RAN AS FAST HE COULD, AND EVEN THOUGH TOM WAS FAR AHEAD, by the time they passed the stables, Benny had caught up. Captain Strunk was blocks behind. As they passed the long, flat Ration Office, they ran abreast, and it was side-by-side that they jumped the hedges on the left side of the Riley property. They skidded to a halt in the wet grass.

A boy sat on the top step of the tiny house. He was neatly dressed, and he held a small bunch of daffodils in one hand, the flowers lying in twisted tangles across his thighs.

Benny said, with total surprise, “Morgie?”

The boy did not move. His head was bowed forward, as if he dozed there on the porch step. Moonlight was breaking through the cloud cover, and in its wan glow, Morgie’s face looked unnaturally pale.

“Careful, Benny,” Tom warned. He drew his sword and looked up and down the street, but except for the flicker of torchlight, nothing moved. The only sound was the nervous nickering and blowing of horses in the stables.

Benny took a step forward. Morgie sat still, his arms crossed over his stomach, his knees pressed together. He looked like he was huddled there against the cold rain and had fallen asleep. Except that his clothes were dry.

“Morgie? Are you okay, man?”

Morgie did not raise his head or move in any way.

“C’mon … don’t do this to me, Morg,” urged Benny as he moved closer. He brought the bokken in front of him, taking it with both hands. “Give me something here, man.”

Slowly, awkwardly, Morgie Mitchell raised his head, and what Benny saw tore a gasp from him. Morgie’s face was as icy pale as the moon. His eyes were dark and uncomprehending, sunk into shadowy pits, his lips slack.

There was fresh blood on his lips. It glistened like oil in the moonlight.

“No …” Benny’s breaths burned in his lungs, and he shook his head, denying the possibility of this.

Tom raised his sword over his shoulder, the steel glittering in the cold moonlight.

“Say something,” Tom ordered, his voice hard.

Morgie’s mouth worked, but no words came out. Tom’s fingers tightened on the handle of his sword.

“Tom … don’t,” begged Benny.

“I’ll do what I have to, Ben,” said Tom between clenched teeth.

Benny took another step forward. Almost in reach. Morgie’s dark eyes caught his movement, and turned to him.

“Morgie, you fat jerk, you freaking well say something!” Benny yelled. Behind him he heard Captain Strunk come huffing up.

“God!” he said, “Is that the Mitchell boy?”

“His name’s Morgan,” snapped Benny. “Morgie.”

“Is … is he turned?” Strunk glanced at Tom, who gave a tight shake of his head. Not an answer to the question, but rather a command to be quiet.

Benny took one more step closer. Definitely in reach now. Tom hissed, but didn’t move. His blade was poised to cut, and Benny knew how fast his brother was. If Morgie grabbed him, though, would it be fast enough?

“Morgie … you’re freaking me out here. If this is one of your jokes, it’s not funny.

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