Reaching the town’s outskirts, Zia accelerated through a stretch of unlit country, then stopped as the road ran out. The Black Forest loomed ahead, solidly filling the horizon, blacker than the night. The hearse rolled up behind them.

“C’mon, walkies.” Zia jumped out.

“I can’t walk like this,” Alex complained angrily as Beckman dragged him from the car. He gestured at the wire looped around him, pinning his arms to his sides. “I twisted my ankle. I’ll need to use the broom or something as support.”

“Little knocks and sprains.” Zia wrinkled her nose in disdain. “Coughs and colds and lumps and bumps. What a ridiculous way to exist. We do without them.” Her face suddenly fell. “It’s only the really big hurts hurt us.”

She nodded to Beckman. “Let him take his stupid brush. Hold his other arm. If he tries anything, knock him out. Oh, but do be careful not to kill this one quite so much, hmmm?”

She grinned horridly, then almost skipped to the hearse. A life-sizer climbed from the driver’s seat and strode to the back. Beckman moved to join it, pulling Alex along behind. The robot opened the hearse’s back.

There was indeed a coffin inside, a huge one of heavy black wood, intricately carved with spiraling galaxies of countless numbers, letters, and symbols that Alex could just make out.

Atop the casket, tied in place by black-and-purple ribbons, sat a similarly inscribed plant pot. As Beckman pulled the door wider, Alex saw the flower. It was an unimaginably hideous thing: a single, ugly bloom, glowing pale in the moonlight, and, growing from the stem, a solitary new leaf that horribly suggested a kind of living green flesh.

Zia measured the leaf between her fingers, then turned smiling to Alex. “Soon be time for its dinner again. It’s always hungry just now.” She clambered inside to retrieve the flower, then jumped back down, clutching it to her chest.

“Come on.”

They walked in line, Zia leading with a bright flashlight. The life-sizer and Beckman went next, carrying the enormous coffin between them. Alex came stumbling after, tugged along on Beckman’s wire. As he crossed into the forest, the trees glimmered red, reflecting another mighty firework hanging like a distress flare above the little town behind them.

The woods closed in. Aside from the flashlight’s beam dancing on the trees ahead, the darkness was absolute. A heavy, spicy smell clung to the air. The track grew thin, the ground treacherous and rocky. Once or twice, as they trudged deeper, came the growling, splashing sounds of waterfalls nearby. All the while Zia cooed a gentle song to the plant.