The Passage - By Justin Cronin Page 0,371

know it’s probably suicide, don’t you? Going up that mountain alone like that. I have to say it.”

“Maybe so. But it’s the best idea I’ve got.”

A moment of silent acknowledgment passed between them. Peter thought how he would miss Greer, his calm, steadfast presence.

“Well, this is goodbye then.” Greer rose and offered his hand to shake. “Look me up if you’re ever in Kerrville. I want to know how it ends.”

“How what ends?”

The major smiled, his big hand still wrapped around Peter’s. “The dream, Peter.”

A light was burning inside the barracks; Peter could hear murmuring behind the canvas walls. There was no proper door, no way to knock. But as he approached, a soldier appeared through the flap, drawing his parka around him. The one they called Wilco; he was one of the oilers.

“Jaxon.” He gave a startled look. “If you’re looking for Lugnut, he’s with some of the other guys, moving the last of the fuel off the tanker. I was just going over there.”

“I’m looking for Lish.” When Wilco met this request with an empty stare, Peter clarified. “Lieutenant Donadio.”

“I’m not sure—”

“Just tell her I’m here.”

Wilco shrugged and ducked back through the flap. Peter strained his ears to hear what, if anything, was being said inside. But all the voices had gone suddenly silent. He waited, long enough to wonder if Alicia would simply fail to appear. But then the flap drew aside and she stepped through.

It would not have been quite true, Peter thought, to say that she looked changed; she simply was changed. The woman who stood before him was both the same Alicia he had always known and someone entirely new. Her arms were crossed over her chest; on her upper body she was wearing nothing more than a T-shirt, despite the cold. A bit of her hair had grown back over the days, a ghostly scrim that clung to her scalp like a glowing cap under the lights. But it wasn’t any of these things that made the moment strange. It was the way she stood, holding herself apart from him.

“I heard about your promotion,” he said. “Congratulations.”

Alicia said nothing.

“Lish—”

“You shouldn’t be here, Peter. I shouldn’t be talking to you.”

“I just came to tell you that I understand. For a while I didn’t. But I do now.”

“Well.” She paused, hugging herself in the cold. “What changed your mind?”

He didn’t know quite what to say. Everything he’d meant to tell her seemed to have abruptly fled from his mind. Muncey’s death had something to do with it, and his father, and Amy. But the real reason wasn’t anything he possessed the words for.

He said the only thing he could think of. “Hollis’s guitar, actually.”

Alicia gave him a blank look. “Hollis has a guitar?”

“One of the soldiers gave it to him.” Peter stopped; there was no way to explain. “I’m sorry. I’m not making much sense.”

A space seemed to have opened in Peter’s chest, and he realized what it was; it was the pain of missing someone he had not yet left.

“Well, thank you for telling me. But I really have to get back inside.”

“Lish, wait.”

She turned to face him again, her eyebrows raised.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me? About the Colonel.”

“Is that why you came here? To ask me about the Colonel?” She sighed, looking away; it wasn’t anything she wanted to discuss. “Because he didn’t want anyone to know. About who he was.”

“But why wouldn’t he?”

“What would he have said, Peter? He was all alone. He’d lost all his men. As far as he was concerned, he should have died with them.” She paused to breathe. “As for the rest, I think he raised me the only way he knew how. For a long time, I thought it was fun, to tell you the truth. Stories about brave men crossing the Darklands to fight and die. Taking the oath, a bunch of mumbo jumbo that meant nothing to me, just words. Then I was angry. I was eight, Peter. Eight years old, and he took me outside the walls, underneath the power trunk, and left me there. At night, with nothing, not even a blade. You haven’t heard about that part.”

“Flyers, Lish. What happened?”

“Nothing. I’d be dead if it had. I just sat under a tree and cried all night. To this day I don’t know if he was testing my courage or my luck.”

Part of the story seemed missing. “He must have been out there with you. Watching you.”

“Maybe.” She angled her face