“It . . . used to be what I guess you could call my ‘inner voice,’” he began slowly. “It was like me, but not me. It was smarter, you know? It knew about stuff. It’s hard to explain.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“All kinds of stuff. Even how to talk to you.”

The ghost of a smile flitted across her lips.

“But that’s not what really has me scared,” Benny continued. He took a breath and then blurted it. “I think Tom’s talking to me too.”

“Oh.”

“At first I thought I was just remembering things he said. But lately . . . I don’t know. I think he’s actually talking to me. Like, maybe it’s his ghost.”

“Ghost?”

Benny nodded. “God, this is why I don’t talk about this stuff, because you’re definitely going to think I’m totally monkey-bat crazy.”

“You always have been,” she said with another small smile.

“Since Tom died . . . I knew that I had to keep him alive somehow. I know it sounds crazy, but it makes sense to me. I have to remember everything Tom ever said. Every lesson he gave us. Everything. God, Nix, he was the very last samurai, do you realize that? The last one. Think about everything that . . . died . . . with him. Everything he knew. Everything he could have taught us is gone. Do you get how bad that is? All that knowledge. How to fight, how to do things. Gone. Just—gone.”

“I know, Benny. My mom knew a lot of things too.”

“Look, Nix, I didn’t mean—”

“I know what you meant. It’s okay.”

Benny licked his lips, which had gone completely dry. “I can’t stand it, Nix. I can’t stand that it’s all gone. I can’t stand that he’s gone.” His nose was starting to run, and he dug a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped it.

“I know,” she said.

“But,” Benny said, “maybe he’s not. That’s what I’m trying to say. Today, when I was down in the ravine . . . he actually spoke to me. It wasn’t a memory. It was like he was right there.”

“You were surrounded by zoms, Benny. You were probably in shock.”

“No kidding. Doesn’t change anything. Tom started speaking to me, and I could hear him as clear as I’m hearing you now.”

“Why are you scared of that? He’s your brother.”

“Um . . . hello? He’s a ghost?”

“You only think you’re hearing Tom’s ghost.”

“Yes.”

“Is he here now?” Nix asked. “Can you ask him a question? Ask him what my mom’s middle name was.”

“He’s a ghost, not a carnival magician.”

“Tom knew her middle name,” said Nix. “Ask him. If it’s really him, then he’ll know.”

“That’s stupid—”

“Ask him!” she yelled.

“I can’t!” he yelled back.

“Why not?”

“Because it doesn’t work like that.”