Bishop shook his head. “There’s talk about something bad walking the northern blocks. More than one something, we think; they’ve been spotted up on the walls, too. Not sure if they’re men, or animals, or what, but they’re big.”

“Do they … do they chase people? Kill ’em?” Rector gulped. “Eat ’em?”

Bishop lowered his voice to reply, enough that Rector almost thought that the chemist was playing with his head. “We’ve lost four guys in the last two weeks. Found nothing left of them but pieces, like they’d been yanked limb from limb.”

Rector’s mouth was too dry to swallow again. “Limb … from limb?”

“So keep an eye on yourself, if you’re going to be hanging around them Doornails. We don’t mind them keeping to themselves, but maybe they’re not alone. And maybe they’ve got ideas, and won’t keep to themselves forever. Don’t be a trusting fool about their company.”

“Jesus, Bishop. I can take care of myself.”

“That remains to be seen. However, you haven’t made a grab for the sap that’s not six inches from your hand, and you’re looking … I don’t know, clearer. You look more clear than last time I saw you. Maybe you’ll pull yourself together yet.”

“I do appreciate your confidence. So are you going to help me out, or do I have to find that crazy Chinese kid and get him to take me all the way back to where I came from? Because I sure as shit can’t find it on my own.” He left off what he thought about saying next, that he didn’t have the energy to make the trip anyway.

Bishop rose to his feet. He wasn’t a tall man, or a heavy one, either, and he wore a big brown leather apron over his clothes stained the same yellow as Rector’s sleeve, and pocked with burn marks. Bishop reached for a row of round knobs, and as he turned them one by one, a soft hiss of gas fussed out through the pipes. The cooking flames lowered, and the glass containers settled down to a simmer.

“All right, Wreck. If all you need’s a place to put your head, I can stick you someplace quiet.”

Rector laughed with relief. When he stood up again, he nearly collapsed, but caught himself. “Thanks, Bishop. Thanks a whole bunch, man. I want you to know I appreciate it.”

And as Bishop gathered up a satchel and a handful of tools, he said, “And I want you to know I expect you to keep an eye on those Doornails for us. You’re not their kind, kid. You’re ours. And you’d better remember it.”

Chapter 12

Twelve

After spending the night in a clean, if sparsely fitted railroad car, Rector awoke to Houjin’s insistent knock on the door.