How far down was the ground? The cleft was so choked with foliage that she had not been able to see the bottom. It could be six feet below her. It could be sixty. She wished she knew how badly she was hurt. Or where.

In all the tales, in every variation, the Lost Girl died.

Lilah closed her eyes.

“Chong,” she said hoarsely.

Or, she meant to say “Chong.”

What she said was, “Tom.”

Chapter 29

29

BENNY AND NIX MADE IT TO THE WOODS WITH NO TIME TO SPARE. THE motor noise roared as loud as thunder as they dove beneath the canopy of leaves and pine needles.

Nix led the way, and Benny was a half step behind her. He cut a quick look over his shoulder and saw something that made him grab Nix’s arm and jerk her to a stop.

“Look!” he said in an urgent whisper.

They crouched down behind a thick bush and stared with slack-jawed amazement at something neither of them had ever seen.

Ten people came tearing into the clearing, all of them dressed in black clothes tied with red streamers, all of them heavily armed . . . and each of them on four-wheeled motorized vehicles.

“Oh my God,” breathed Nix, gripping Benny’s arm. “What—what—?”

The machines were not cars or trucks, and not quite motorcycles, either. Benny fished for the name and scraped up the initials ATV. He thought they stood for “all-terrain vehicle,” and that was probably right, because these machines roared easily over the uneven surface of the field. They each had four fat rubber tires and a kind of saddle for the driver. The machines were spattered with mud, but some colored metal shone through. Different colors for each—blue and green and other shades. A basket or duffel bag was lashed to the back of each, and the handles of swords and axes sprouted from many. The roar of the machines was unnaturally loud—and even in that moment of tension, it struck Benny how quiet his world was and how loud the old world of machines must have been.

The presence of these machines was like a punch to the head.

“Are we seeing this?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said in a fierce tone. She turned to him, her eyes alight. “First the jet and now this. Benny—the old world isn’t dead. Everything wasn’t destroyed.”

Benny nodded, but he studied the figures on the machines and didn’t like what he was seeing. He remembered the word Riot had used. Quads. This had to be what she was referring to.

The quads zoomed across the field and circled the big bristlecone tree. One rider stopped and dismounted, studying the ground. Looking for footprints, Benny realized.

“Nix,” he said, indicating the man who had dismounted, “look at them, look at his chest.”