Lies

by Michael Grant

  All she had to do was let go. Slip into the water. She wouldn’t last long. She was too weak to swim very long and then she would slide down into the water like Jasmine had done.

  Or maybe she could just hold her head down here and take a deep breath of water. Would that do it? Or would she just end up choking and puking?

  Caine wouldn’t let her drown, of course. Then Caine would be all alone. He would raise her up out of the water. She couldn’t drown until Caine was gone, and then she might as well because, as sad as it was to realize, he was all she had.

  The two of them. Sick puppies. Twisted, arrogant, cruel and cold, both of them. How could she love someone like that? How could he? Process of elimination? Neither of them could find anyone else?

  Even the nastiest, ugliest species found mates. Flies found mates. Worms, well, who knew? Probably. The point being…

  Sudden panic! She yanked her head back up and gasped at the air. Choked, gasped, and started crying with her face in her hands, sobbing without tears because you needed something inside you to produce tears. The water running down from her hair felt like tears.

  No one noticed. No one cared.

  Caine was watching the shore of the island as it passed on their left.

  Tyrell was checking the gas gauge nervously every two seconds. “Dude, we’re on empty. I mean, we are way in the red.”

  The cliffs were sheer and impossible. The sun beat down on Diana’s head and if someone had magically appeared beside her and said, here, Diana, press this button and…oblivion…

  No. No, that’s what was amazing as she thought about it. No. She still wouldn’t. She would still choose to live. Even this life. Even though it meant spending her days and nights with herself.

  “Hey!” Penny said. “Look at that. Isn’t that, like, an opening?”

  Caine shielded his eyes and stared hard. “Tyrell. In there.”

  The boat turned lazily toward the cliff. Diana wondered if they were going to just ram the wall. Maybe. Nothing she could do about it.

  But then, she saw it, too, nothing more than a dark space in the buff, sun-blasted rock. An opening.

  “Probably just a cave,” Tyrell said.

  They weren’t far out from the cliff and it didn’t take long for them to see that what at first looked like a cave was actually a gash in the rock face. At some point a part of the cliff had collapsed in on itself, creating a narrow inlet, no more than twenty feet wide at the base, but five times that wide at the top. But the base of the inlet was choked with rock. There was no sandy beach awaiting them, no place to land the boat.

  And yet, if a boat could be landed, a person could climb up the back of that rock slide to the top of the cliff.

  The engine caught and missed several strokes, sending a shudder through the hull.

  Tyrell cursed furiously and said, “I knew it, I knew it!”

  The boat kept moving toward the gap. The engine died. The boat lost way.

  It drifted and the opening fell slowly away.

  Only twenty feet. So close.

  Then thirty feet.

  Forty.

  Caine turned cold eyes on his little crew. He stretched out his hand and Penny rose from her place in the boat. He flung her toward shore. She flew, tumbling and yelling through the air and landed with a splash just feet from the nearest of the tumbled boulders.

  No time to see whether she made it. Caine reached and threw Bug, who disappeared halfway through his flight but created a splash so close to the rocks Diana wondered if he had smashed his head.

  The boat kept drifting.

  What was Caine’s range for throwing a fifty-or seventy-five-or one-hundred-pound person with any accuracy? Diana wondered. That most be close to his limit.

  Diana’s eyes met Caine’s.

  “Protect your head,” he warned.

  Diana locked her fingers together behind her neck and squeezed her arms in tight, covering her temples.

  Diana felt a giant, invisible hand squeeze her tight and then she was hurtling through the air.

  She didn’t cry out. Not even as the rocks rushed toward her. She would hit them head on, no way would she survive. But then gravity had its way and her straight line became a down-turned arc.

  The rocks, the foamy water, all in the same blink of an eye, and the plunge. Deep and cold, the water filled her mouth with salt.

  There was a hard sharp pain as her shoulder hit rock. She kicked her legs and her knees scraped against an almost-vertical wet slurry of gravel.

  Her clothing weighed her down, wrapped tight around her, seized her arms and legs. Diana struggled, surprised by how hard she struggled, how much she wanted to reach the bright, sunlit surface, which was a hundred million miles away.

  She came up, was caught by the soft swell, and tossed like a doll against a lichen-slicked boulder. She scrabbled with both hands as she choked. Fingernails on rock. Feet plowing crumbling pebbles beneath her.

  Suddenly she was up and out of the water from the waist up. On a little shelf of rock, gasping for air.

  She waited there for a moment, catching her breath. Then, she pushed on, oblivious to scrapes and rips, to a drier spot. She stopped there, all energy spent.

  Caine had already reached shore. He slumped, exhausted, wet, but at the same time, triumphant.

  Diana heard voices crying his name.

  She blinked water and tried to focus on the boat. It was already so far away. Tyrell and Paint, standing up in it and yelling, “Get me! Get me!”

  “Caine, you can’t leave us out here!”

  “Can you reach them?” Diana asked in a hoarse croak.

  Caine shook his head. “Too far. Anyway…”

  Diana knew the “anyway.” Tyrell and Paint had no powers. They would do nothing useful for Caine. They were just two more mouths to feed, two more whiny voices to heed.

  “We better start climbing,” Caine said. “I can help at the rough spots. We’ll make it.”

  “And there will be food and everything up there?” Penny asked, gazing wistfully up the cliff.

  “We had better hope there is,” Diana said. “We have nowhere else to go. And no way to get there.”

  THIRTY-TWO

  8 HOURS, 11 MINUTES

  ASTRID HAD GONE to look at the burn zone. Doing the right thing.

  Kids had yelled at her. Demanded to know why she had let it happen. Demanded to know where Sam was. Deluged her with complaints and worries and crazy theories until she had retreated.

  She’d hidden out after that. She’d refused to answer the door when kids knocked. She had not gone to her office. It would be the same there.

  But through the day it had eaten at her. This feeling of uselessness. A feeling of uselessness made so much worse by the growing realization that she needed Sam. Not because they were up against some threat. The threat was mostly past now.

  She needed Sam because no one had any respect for her. There was only one person right now who could get a crowd of anxious kids to settle down and do what needed to be done.

  She had wanted to believe that she could do that. But she had tried. And they hadn’t listened.

  But Sam was still nowhere to be seen. So despite everything it was still on her shoulders. The thought of it made her sick. It made her want to scream.

  “We have to go out, Petey. Walkie, walkie. Let’s go,” Astrid said.

  Little Pete did not respond or react.

  “Petey. Walkie, walkie. Come with me.”

  Little Pete looked at her like she might be there and might not. Then he went back to his game.

  “Petey. Listen to me!”

  Nothing.

  Astrid took two steps, grabbed Little Pete by the shoulders, and shook him.

  The game player went flying across the carpet.

  Little Pete looked up. Now he was sure she was there. Now he was paying attention.

  “Oh, my God, Petey, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Astrid cried and reached to draw him clos
e. She had never, ever shaken him before. It had happened so suddenly, like some animal in her brain had seized control of her and suddenly she was moving and suddenly she’d grabbed him.

  “Ahhh ahhhh ahhhh ahhhh!” Little Pete began shrieking.

  “No, no, no, Petey, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to do it.”

  She wrapped her arms around him but she could not touch him. Some force kept her arms from making physical contact.

  “Petey, no, you have to let me—”

  “Ahhh ahhh ahhhh ahhh!”

  “It was an accident! I just lost control, it’s just, I just, I can’t, Petey, stop it, stop it!”

  She ran to retrieve his game. It was warm. Strange. She carried it back to Little Pete, but for just a moment her step faltered. The room seemed to warp and wobble around her.

  Little Pete’s frantic shrieks snapped her back.

  “Ahhhh ahhh ahhhh ahhh!”

  “Shut up!” Astrid screamed, as confused and unsettled as she was furious. “Shut up! Shut up! Here! Take your stupid toy!”

  She stepped back, stepped away, not trusting herself to be near him. Hating him at that moment. Terrified that the enraged thing inside her head would lash out at him again. A voice inside her rationalized it even now. He is a brat. He does these things deliberately.

  It was all his fault.

  “Ahhh ahhh ahhh ahhh!”

  “I do everything for you!” she cried.

  “Ahhh ahhh ahhh ahhh!”

  “I feed you and I clean you and I watch over you and I protect you. Stop it! Stop it! I can’t stand it anymore. I can’t stand it!”

  Little Pete did not stop. Would not stop, she knew, until he chose to, until whatever crazy loop that was in his head had played itself out.

  She sank into a kitchen chair. Astrid sat with her head in her hands running through the list of her failures. Before the FAYZ there hadn’t been very many. She’d gotten a B+ once when she should have gotten an A. She’d inadvertently been cruel to people on a couple of occasions, memories that still bothered her, even now. She’d never learned to play an instrument…. Wasn’t as good as she would like to be with Spanish pronunciations…

  “Ahhh ahhh ahhh ahhh!”

  Before the FAYZ the ratio of success to failure in her life had been hundreds to one. Even in coping with her little brother, back then she’d been as successful as anyone could be.

  But since the FAYZ the ratio had reversed. On the positive side she was still alive, and so was her brother. On the negative side there were too many failures to list, though she could recall them all, each and every one in painful detail.

  “Ahhh ahhhh ahhh ahhh!”

  She had intended to do so many good things. She had wanted to restart therapy and lessons for Little Pete. Failure. She had wanted to get the church fixed up and find some way for kids to attend on Sunday mornings. Failure. She had wanted to write a constitution for the FAYZ, create a government. Failure.

  She had tried to stop Albert from making everything about money. She had failed. And just as bad, Albert had succeeded. He’d been right, she had been wrong. It was Albert feeding Perdido Beach now, not her.

  She’d wanted to find a way to stop Howard from selling booze and cigarettes to kids. Wanted to reason with Zil, get him to act like a decent human being. Failure and failure.

  Even her relationship with Sam had come apart. And now, he’d run away, abandoned her. Had enough, she supposed. Had enough of her and Little Pete and all of it.

  Someone had heard it from someone else that Hunter had seen him leaving town. Leaving. Going where? The gossip machine had no answer to that. But the gossip machine was sure who was to blame: Astrid.

  She had wanted to be brave and strong and smart and right.

  And now she was hiding out in her home because she knew if she went out, they would all look to her for answers she didn’t have. She was the head of the town council in a town that had come close to burning to the ground.

  It had been saved. But not by Astrid.

  Little Pete fell silent at last. His blank eyes were focused on the game again. Like nothing had happened.

  She wondered if he even remembered her loss of control. She wondered if he knew how terrified she was, how hopeless and defeated. She knew he didn’t care.

  No one cared.

  “Okay, Petey,” she said, her voice shaky. “We still have to go out. Walkie, walkie. Time to go and talk to my many friends,” she said sardonically.

  This time he followed her meekly.

  She’d meant to visit the burn zone again. To visit the basement hospital. To find Albert and find out how soon he would have food.

  But out on the street she was surrounded within minutes, just as she’d known she would be. Kids came to her. More and more kids, until there were dozens of them, trailing her as she tried to make her way back to the burn zone. They yelled, demanded, insulted, pleaded, begged. Threatened.

  “Why won’t you talk to us?”

  “Why don’t you answer?”

  Because she didn’t have any answers.

  “Okay,” she said finally. “Okay! Okay!” She shoved at a boy who was in her face yelling about his big sister being missing, about her going to visit a friend. Over on Sherman.

  “Okay,” Astrid said. “We’ll have a town meeting.”

  “When?”

  “Right now.” She pushed through the crowd, which surged around her as she led the way to the church.

  Oh, Sam would get a good laugh out of seeing this. More than once he’d stood up at the altar trying to pacify a bunch of terrified kids. And she, Astrid, had watched, and judged his performance. And when the pressure of it finally got to be too much she had formed the council and tried to push him aside.

  Well, Sam, she thought as she stepped onto that ruined altar, you can have this job back any time you like.

  The crucifix that long ago Caine had used to crush a boy named Cookie had been propped up and fallen and propped up again. It now lay on a pile of debris. It hurt Astrid to see it there. She considered asking for volunteers to lift it again, but this was not the time. No, not the time for her to ask anything of anyone.

  Edilio came in with Albert, but neither rushed to the front to stand in solidarity with her.

  “If you guys will all sit down and stop trying to talk at once, we can have a town meeting,” Astrid said.

  The response was loud and derisive. A wave of bitter words washed over her.

  “Hey, the mall is closed, there’s no food!”

  “No one brought any water down, we’re thirsty!”

  “Hurt…”

  “Sick…”

  “Scared…”

  And again and again, where is Sam? Where is Sam? Things like this happen, Sam should be around. Is he dead?

  “As far as I know, Sam is fine,” Astrid said calmly.

  “Yeah, and we can totally trust you, right?”

  “Yes,” Astrid said without conviction. “You can trust me.”

  That drew laughter and more insults.

  Someone yelled, “Let her talk, she’s the only one even trying.”

  “All Astrid does is lie and do nothing,” a voice shot back.

  Astrid knew the voice. Howard.

  “All Astrid can do is talk,” Howard said. “Blah blah blah. And most of it lies.”

  The mob of kids was silent now, watching as Howard stood up slowly, stiffly, and turned to face the kids.

  “Sit down, Howard,” Astrid said. Even she could hear the defeat in her tone.

  “Did you write some kind of law that made you boss of everyone? Because I thought you were all about laws.”

  Astrid fought the urge to walk out. Like Sam had apparently done, just leave town. No loss to anyone.

  “We need to figure out how we’re going to organize and deal, Howard,” Astrid said. “People need food.”

  “Got that right,” a voice said.

  “How are you going to make that happen?” Howard
demanded.

  “Okay, well, tomorrow everyone will work their regular job,” Astrid said. “It will be bad for a couple of days, but we’ll get food and water going again. The crops are still in the fields. The fish are still in the ocean.”

  That had a calming effect. Astrid could feel it. It helped to remind the kids that not everything had been lost in the fire. Yes, maybe she could reach them after all.

  “Tell us about the zombie,” Howard said.

  Astrid’s face and neck flushed red, betraying her guilt.

  “And then maybe you can explain why you stopped Sam from taking Zil out before Zil burned down the town.”

  Astrid managed a wry smile. “Don’t you lecture me, Howard. You’re a lowlife drug dealer.”

  She could see that the insult hit home.

  “If people want to buy things, I make sure they can,” Howard said. “Just like Albert. Anyway, I never put myself up on a pedestal and said I was some big deal. Me and Orc, we do what we do to get by. We’re not the ones being so perfect and mighty and above it all.”

  “No, you’re beneath it all,” Astrid said.

  Part of her knew that as long as she kept this personal between her and Howard, the others wouldn’t jump in. But that would get them nowhere. Accomplish nothing.

  “You still haven’t explained anything, Astrid,” Howard said, as though reading her mind. “Forget me. I’m just me. What about a girl who was dead and isn’t dead anymore? And what about kids saying they’ve seen Drake walking the streets? You got any answers, Astrid?”

  She considered bluffing. Another time, another day, she would have found a way to heap frosty scorn on Howard and shut him down. But she couldn’t seem to find that inside herself. Not now.

  “You know, Howard,” Astrid began in a wry voice, “I’ve made a lot of mistakes lately and—”

  “And what about the Prophetess?” a different voice broke in. “What about Orsay?”

  “Mary?” Astrid couldn’t believe it. Mary Terrafino, her face red with anger, her voice crackling.

  “I just talked to my brother. My brother, who never in his whole life ever lied to me,” Mary said.