Benji says softly. “Even when you know it’s not really her, it’s still hard.” “What do you mean?” I demand. “I thought you understood,” he says. “When people are brought back from the dead, they’re different. Inside. It’s almost like . . .” He trails off, looking squeamish, like he doesn’t want to be the one to break it to me. But I already know. “She’s rotten inside,” I say. “Yeah,” he admits, before adding, “sorry.” I wave his apology away. Too exhausted to be any more upset than I already am. “And you’re here because you’ve decided I’m a good guy and want to help. Right?” Jules reaches across and gives me a thumbs-up at the same time Benji says, “Pretty much.” “Well, welcome aboard, I guess.” I lean forward, wanting to make sure Smith is okay. I flick on the overhead dome light to see him better and then wish I hadn’t. His skin is pasty white with an overlay of sweaty shine. The hand that I’d held is clutched to his chest and the rest of his body curls in toward it.
