Gone Series Complete Collection

by Grant, Michael

  “I packed you some food and batteries for L. P.’s game in that bag. I don’t think the walkie-talkie works very well, but I have the other one. You can see almost everything from up here.”

  It was a tight space. Little Pete immediately sat down in a dusty corner. Astrid and Sam stood awkwardly close together, crowded by the bell.

  “Did you leave me a gun?”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  “You’re asking everyone else to do terrible things. You’re just asking me to watch.”

  “There’s a difference.”

  “Is there? What?”

  “Well . . . I need you for your brains. I need you to observe.”

  “That’s lame,” she said.

  He nodded. “Yeah. Well. You haven’t been trained to shoot. You’d probably end up shooting yourself in the foot.”

  “Ah,” she said, not convinced.

  “Listen, I know this is crazy, but maybe you should think about Quinn’s idea, you know, of getting L. P. to zap you to Hawaii. Or whatever. He has the power. In case things don’t work out . . .”

  “I don’t want him to zap me away somewhere,” Astrid said. “I don’t really think it would work, for one. And for two . . .”

  “Yeah?”

  “And for two, I don’t want to leave you.”

  He laid his palm gently against her cheek, and she closed her eyes and leaned into him. “Astrid, I’m the one who’s going to be leaving. You know that.”

  “No. I don’t know that. I’ve prayed for it not to happen. I’ve asked Mary to intercede.”

  “Mary Terrafino?”

  “No, duh.” Astrid laughed. “You are such a heathen. Mary. The Virgin Mary.”

  “Oh. Her.”

  “I know you don’t really believe in God much, but I do. I think He knows we’re here. I think He hears our prayers.”

  “You think this is all some master plan of God’s? The FAYZ and all?”

  “No. I believe in free will. I think we make our own decisions and carry out our own actions. And our actions have consequences. The world is what we make it. But I think sometimes we can ask God to help us and He will. Sometimes I think He looks down and says, ‘Wow, look what those idiots are up to now: I guess I better help them along a little.’”

  “I’ll gladly accept the help,” Sam said.

  “Just the same, I wish I had a gun.”

  Sam shook his head. “I hurt my stepfather. I hurt Drake. I may have killed Drake. I don’t know. And I don’t know what’s going to happen next. But here’s what I do know: When I hurt someone it makes a mark on me. Like a scar or something. It’s like . . .” He searched for words, and she wrapped her arms tight around him. “It’s like my knee, where Drake shot me? That’s all healed up, thanks to Lana, like it never happened. But me burning Drake? That’s inside me, in my head, and Lana didn’t heal that.”

  “If there’s a fight, others will feel that hurt.”

  “You’re not others.”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I love you.”

  Astrid was silent for so long, Sam thought he must have upset her. Yet she never loosened her hold on him, never pulled away but kept her face buried in his neck. He felt her warm tears on his skin. And at last she said, “I love you, too.”

  He sighed with relief. “Well, we got past that.”

  But she didn’t join in the nervous laughter. “I have something to tell you, Sam.”

  “A secret?”

  “I wasn’t sure of it, so I didn’t say anything. It’s hard to separate it from IQ. Intuition is usually just the name we give to heightened but normal perception that takes place below the level of conscious thought.”

  “Uh-huh,” he said, using his dumb-guy voice.

  “For a long time I wasn’t sure it was anything other than normal intuition.”

  “The power,” he said. “I was wondering if you knew. Diana said you were a two bar. I kind of didn’t want to, you know, force you to think about it.”

  “I suspected. But it’s weird. I touch a person’s hand and I sometimes see what looks in my mind like a streak of fire across the sky.”

  He held her out at arm’s length, the better to see her face. “A streak?”

  She shrugged. “Weird, huh? I see it as bright or dim, long or short. I don’t know what it means, I don’t have any control over it and I haven’t really tried exploring it yet. But it feels like I’m seeing some measure of, I don’t know, significance or something? It’s like I’m seeing a person’s soul or maybe their fate, but in highly metaphorical terms.”

  “Highly metaphorical,” he echoed. “Your power is the power of metaphor?”

  That at last earned him a smile and a shove. “Smart-ass. The point is, I’ve known from the start that you were important in some way. You’re a shooting star across the sky, trailing sparks.”

  “Do I shoot right into a brick wall tomorrow?”

  “I don’t know,” she admitted. “But I know you’re the brightest shooting star in the sky.”

  Computer Jack woke and felt her soft hand over his mouth. It was dark outside, but the room was bathed in the blue glow of a computer screen. He could see the outline of her face, her dark hair. Her eyes glittered.

  “Shh,” she cautioned, and put a finger to her lips.

  His heart was already pounding. Something was wrong, no question.

  “Get up, Jack.”

  “What’s happening?”

  “You remember our deal? You remember your promise?”

  He didn’t want to say yes. He didn’t want to. He had always known that whatever Diana wanted, it would be dangerous. And Jack was more terrified than ever.

  Drake was back. Drake was a monster.

  Diana stroked his cheek with her fingertips. He felt a shiver go up his spine. Then, just ever so softly, she slapped his cheek.

  “I asked if you remembered your promise.”

  He was mute. Too confused to be able to find his voice, too aware of her beside him, too terrified of what she might want.

  He nodded.

  “Get dressed. Just your clothes. Nothing else.”

  “What time is it?” he temporized.

  “Time to do the right thing.” Her soft mouth twitched a wry smile. “Even if it is for the wrong reason.”

  Jack climbed out of bed, very, very glad that he had found a pair of pajama bottoms to wear. He made her turn away and dressed quickly.

  “Where are we going?”

  “You’re going for a drive.”

  “I only drove once and I almost ran into a ditch.”

  “You’re a very smart boy, Jack. You’ll figure it out.”

  They crept from the room into the darkened hallway. Down the stairs, careful, careful. Diana inched the outside door open and looked at the courtyard. Jack wondered if Diana had an excuse ready if someone stopped them.

  The sound of sneakers on the gravel of the driveway was amplified in the foggy night air. It was as if they were trying to make noise. Like each step was delivered with a sledgehammer.

  Diana led him to an SUV parked haphazardly on the grass. “The keys are in it. Get in. The driver’s seat.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Drive to Perdido Beach. And it’s not we. Just you.”

  Jack was alarmed. “Me? Just me? No, no, no! If I go, Caine will think it was all my idea. He’ll send Drake after me.”

  “Jack, either obey me or I’ll stand here and scream. They’ll come and I’ll say I caught you trying to escape.”

  Jack felt his resistance crumble. It was all too plausible. She would do it, and Caine would believe her. And then . . . Drake. He shuddered.

  “Why?” Jack pleaded.

  “Find Sam Temple. Tell him you escaped.”

  Jack gulped and bobbed his head.

  “Better yet, find that girl, Astrid.” Diana recovered some of her mocking attitude. “Astrid the Gen
ius. She’ll be desperate to save Sam.”

  “Okay. Okay.” He steeled himself. “I better go.”

  Diana touched his arm. “Tell them about Andrew.”

  Jack froze with his hand on the key. “That’s what you want me to do?”

  “Jack, if Sam blinks out, Drake will turn on me, and Caine won’t be able to stop him. Drake is stronger than before. I need Sam alive. I need someone for Drake to hate. I need balance. Tell Sam about the temptation. Warn him that he’ll be tempted to surrender to the big jump, but maybe, maybe, if he says no . . .” She sighed. It was not a hopeful sound. “Now: go.”

  She spun on her heel and marched back to the school.

  Jack followed her with his eyes till she reached the door. Now was her chance to escape, too. She could get away from Caine and Drake and all they represented. But she was staying.

  Was it possible that Diana really did love Caine?

  He drew a deep, steadying breath and turned the key. The engine roared. He’d given it too much gas. Too much noise.

  “Shh, shh,” he said.

  He moved the gear to “D,” for drive.

  He pushed the gas pedal down. Nothing happened. He almost panicked. Then he remembered: the emergency brake. He released the brake pull and tried the gas pedal again. The SUV crunched across the gravel at a creeping pace.

  “Hey. Where are you going?”

  Howard. What was he doing out here in the middle of the night?

  Of course: still looking for his bully friend Orc. Always looking out for Orc.

  Howard’s expression went quickly from puzzled to questioning to alarmed.

  “Hey, man, stop. Stop.”

  Jack drove past him.

  In the rearview mirror he saw Howard racing back into the school.

  He should drive faster. But driving was terrifying for Computer Jack. Too many decisions to make, too much attention demanded, too dangerous, too deadly.

  He came to a stop at the iron gate. It was closed. He jumped out and quickly swung the gate open.

  He stood still for a moment and listened. The sounds of the woods. Condensation dripping from leaves and tiny animals rustling and a faint breeze that barely pushed the leaves. Then the sound of a car’s engine.

  Back to the SUV. Into gear and a lurch forward through the gate.

  Leave it open and go. It’s not like the gate would slow anyone down. But it had slowed him down. They were already after him. Panda would be driving, no doubt, he was the most experienced driver, much more experienced than Jack.

  Panda. With Drake beside him. Drake and that monstrous arm of his.

  Jack felt the fear rising within him. He squeezed the steering wheel. Too tight. The top of it broke off in his hands.

  He threw the six-inch arc of plastic away and whinnied in fear. He forced himself to hold the wheel more carefully, control the panic, focus on the driving. Focus on the road as it wound down the mountain, from dense woods to more open terrain and round the spur.

  Lights in the rearview mirror.

  Oh, God. Oh, God.

  They would kill him. Drake would use that whip hand on him.

  “Think, Jack,” he screamed with sudden, shocking vehemence. “Think.”

  This was not a programming issue. It wasn’t technological. It was more primitive. It was force and force, violence and violence, hate and fear.

  Or was it?

  Maybe it was just about clearance. The SUV sat high off the road. The car now rapidly closing the distance was low to the ground.

  Sport-utility vehicle. Four-wheel drive.

  Jack peered at the roadside. A deep ditch all along the right side. A steep dirt and rock wall to his left.

  The car was coming up with such speed. No more than a few hundred feet back.

  There. A dirt road to the right. It might go nowhere. It might go twenty feet and stop. No choice. Jack yanked the wheel to his right and even at low speed, he felt he might tip over.

  But the SUV righted itself and bounced onto the dirt road. Headlights illuminated a bright, featureless circle of dirt and scrub in the inky, moonless blackness. No way to see . . . no way to know. . . . He was driving on faith, in the hope that the dirt road didn’t suddenly end in a cliff.

  It was hard to hold on to the steering wheel as it bounced violently. But he couldn’t grip it too hard or the wheel would come apart in his powerful hands, and then he would really be finished.

  Behind him the lights of the sedan were crazy, up and down, veering wildly. The dirt road was harder for the car. As bad as it was for the SUV, it was impossible for the car.

  Slowly, Jack pulled away from the car. Finally, the headlights dwindled away behind him and it became clear that the car had stopped.

  Jack slowed his own pace, making it easier for him to control the SUV.

  He had left pursuit behind. But how would he get to Perdido Beach? The only way he knew was the main road. Would this dirt track lead somewhere?

  The one thing he knew for sure was that he could not ever turn back.

  FORTY-ONE

  03 HOURS, 15 MINUTES

  THE DAYLIGHT HOURS passed quietly.

  Sam knew it would begin soon.

  And in just a few hours, it would end.

  Sam kept people on watch at the outskirts of town but otherwise advised people to sleep, eat, try to relax. Caine would come in the night. Sam was sure of that.

  He had tried to take his own advice, but sleep had been impossible.

  He was changing clothes and thinking about the need to eat something despite feeling sick to his stomach, when Taylor suddenly appeared in the firehouse. Sam was wearing boxers.

  “They’re coming,” Taylor said without preamble. “Hey, nice abs.”

  “Talk to me.”

  “Six cars coming down the highway from the direction of Coates. They’ll be at Ralph’s in about a minute. They’re moving slowly.”

  “Did you see any faces? Caine or Drake?”

  “No.”

  Sam went into the bunkroom, shook Edilio’s bed, kicked Quinn’s bed, and yelled, “Guys. Get up.”

  “What?” Quinn said, sounding bleary and confused. “I thought we were supposed to get some sleep.”

  “You got some. Taylor says they’re on the move.”

  “I’m up.” Edilio rolled out of bed fully dressed. He unslung the sinister-looking machine pistol from the bed railing.

  Sam slipped into his jeans and hunted for his shoes.

  “What do you want me to do now?” Taylor asked.

  “Bounce back and see if they go into Ralph’s or split off into groups,” Sam said.

  “You might want to keep your clothes on,” Taylor warned. “I could be right back.”

  “When you bounce back, go to the plaza. I’m heading straight there,” Sam said.

  Taylor vanished.

  “You ready?” Sam asked Edilio.

  “No. You?”

  Sam shook his head. “Let’s make it work, anyway.”

  Quinn rolled out of his bunk. “Is it time?”

  “Yeah. Evening. Like we figured,” Sam said. “You know where you’re going, right?”

  “Straight to hell?” Quinn muttered.

  Sam and Edilio dropped down the fireman’s pole and landed in the garage. The walkie-talkie in Sam’s belt crackled, very loud. Astrid’s voice, staticky and strained.

  “Sam. I see them.”

  Sam keyed the volume down a little and pressed the button. “Taylor just told me,” Sam said. “You and L. P. okay?”

  “I’m fine. I see six cars. They’re past Ralph’s. I think they may be turning toward the school.”

  “Why that direction?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Sam bit his lip and considered. “Keep your head down, Astrid.”

  “Sam . . . ,” she began.

  “I know,” he said. “Me too.”

  He started walking fast, not running. Running would look like panic. To Edilio, he said, �
��I figured they’d come in the same way they did the first time. It’s the clearest path into the center of town.”

  “I thought they might take over Ralph’s and make us come after them,” Edilio said.

  “I don’t get it,” Sam admitted. They reached the plaza and Edilio ran ahead to the town hall to check on his troops.

  Taylor appeared a dozen feet away, looking in the wrong direction.

  “Taylor. Here.”

  “Oh. They’re going toward the school. And Caine is definitely with them. Caine and Diana. I didn’t see Drake. Maybe he’s dead.” She said that last part with unmistakable relish. Then, just in case Sam had missed it, she added, “I hope he’s dead, that evil piece of—”

  “Did they see you?”

  “No. They can’t touch me, anyway. I’m too good at this now. I could bounce right into the school, see what they’re up to.”

  Sam pointed a finger at her. “Don’t get cocky. I don’t want to lose you. Keep your distance. Go.”

  Taylor winked and blinked out.

  Astrid on the walkie-talkie. “They’re getting out of their cars, going into the school.”

  Sam looked up at the steeple. She was right up there, so close, he could yell up to her, but her gaze was drawn to the school, not down at him. Sam spotted Quinn running by with his machine gun over his shoulder.

  “Good luck, brah,” Sam said.

  Quinn stopped dead. “Thanks. Look, Sam . . . I . . .”

  “No time for that now,” Sam said firmly, but gently.

  Sam stood alone in the plaza, leg propped on the edge of the fountain. The school. Why? And why come in daylight, why not wait till night fell?

  Albert came trotting out of the McDonald’s. He handed Sam a bag. “Some nuggets, man. In case you’re hungry.”

  “Thanks, dude.”

  “We have faith in you, Sam.” Albert took off.

  Sam munched a nugget and tried to think. The move to the school was unexpected. Was it an opportunity? If Caine was out of the car, on foot, in a school building that Sam knew a lot better than he did . . .

  He keyed the walkie-talkie. “Is there any sign they’re leaving the school?”

  “No. They have one guy standing outside as a guard. I think it’s Panda. I definitely did not see Drake.”

  He could end this, maybe. Right now, one-on-one with Caine. It would mean none of these kids would have to be involved. It would mean no one would have to pull a trigger.