Benny was trying to ignore his hand. It was a white-hot ball of pain at the end of his wrist.
“Let me tell you something, kid,” said Joe. “Because you’re Tom Imura’s brother, and because you’re probably not recovered from that head wound you got, I’m going to let this slide. I can understand you being upset—your best friend is in there and maybe he’s dying or maybe he’s already zommed out—but you need to learn how to pick your fights. I’m not your enemy, and I’m not much in favor of being a punching bag for someone who wants to vent.”
“I can’t let Chong die without doing everything I can,” said Benny. “I can’t.”
“Fine, I admire that. Bravo for you,” said Joe. “How is all this crap going to help him?”
Benny dug his hand into his pocket and removed the two slips of paper.
“We went out to the Ruin today,” he said. “To a ravine near where the plane went down.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s where Sergeant Ortega is. Or was. He’s dead. Really dead, I mean.”
Joe narrowed his eyes and nodded to the pieces of paper. “You took those from him?”
“Yes.” Benny handed one of the slips to Joe. “I think we found out where Dr. McReady is.”
Joe studied the paper. It was the message that read: URGENT: REPT OF R3 ACTIVITY VCNTY OF DVNP—REL. WIT. *** FTF?
Benny watched the big man’s reaction. Joe went dead pale. Then his eyes widened and widened until Benny thought they’d bug out of his head.
“Where . . . ?”
Benny explained about the visit to the ravine, how they pulled Sergeant Ortega out, what they found, and the subsequent confrontation with Brother Peter and the Red Brotherhood.
“He said he wanted what I gave you.”
“Fat chance,” said Joe.
“He said that if I didn’t give it to him by sundown tomorrow, the reapers were going to attack Sanctuary.”
Benny expected Joe to laugh that off, but he didn’t
“Joe?” asked Benny. “The reapers can’t actually take Sanctuary . . . can they?”
But Joe didn’t answer. “Where’s the satchel you took from Sergeant Ortega?”
“I . . . um . . . gave it to Brother Peter.”
Joe’s face went from bloodless to a livid and dangerous red.
“Are you deranged?” thundered the ranger. For the second time he grabbed a fistful of Benny’s shirt. “You stupid, boneheaded little—”
And Benny held up the second slip of paper.
The one with the coordinates.
“You soldiers have been at war too long,” said Benny. “Try having some faith in other people.”
Joe stared at the paper. It had been neatly torn in half. “This is only half of it. . . .”
“I know. We’ll give you the other half as soon as you give me your word on two things.”
“You’re on thin ice, boy,” said Joe in a low and dangerous voice.
Benny leaned toward him. “I’ve been on thin ice since zombies ate the world. I want your word on two things. Two conditions.”