Gone Series Complete Collection

by Grant, Michael

  Did it ever occur to you it might be one of the other kids standing guard?

  No. Heather B and Mike J were at the guardhouse. And Josh was asleep the whole time.

  What do you mean Josh was asleep?

  Junior Mints. The map with the power plant at its center. The memory of the day of the battle.

  Bug, the chameleon.

  Bug.

  The power plant.

  Sam jumped out of bed like he’d been shot from a cannon.

  He pulled on jeans and searched frantically for his shoes under the bed. He slipped them on and ran to Astrid’s room. He didn’t knock, just threw open the door.

  She was asleep, a tangle of blond hair on a pillow.

  “Astrid. Wake up.”

  She didn’t move, so he took her bare shoulder, feeling an illicit thrill despite his frenzy. “Wake up.”

  Blue eyes snapped open. “What? Is it Petey again?”

  He was suddenly extremely aware of the fact that he had never been in her bedroom before. But this was not the time.

  “Bug. He took the Junior Mints.”

  She stared at him. “You woke me up for that?”

  “At the power plant. Alton and Dalton. They were both telling the truth. Neither of them took the candy, or Josh, either. Someone else was there. Someone they didn’t see.”

  “Why would Bug be at the power plant?” Astrid wondered. Then her eyes widened as she understood.

  “Because I’m an idiot, that’s why,” Sam said angrily. “I have to get Edilio. You’re in charge till I get back.”

  “You may be wrong,” Astrid said.

  He was already on his way out. He pounded down the stairs and out into the frosty night air. He found Edilio at the firehouse, where he stayed most nights.

  “Who’s on guard at the plant?” Sam asked Edilio after he’d shaken him out of a sound sleep.

  “Josh, Brittney D, um, Mickey, and Mike Farmer.”

  “Mike’s solid,” Sam said. “The other three?”

  Edilio shrugged. “Man, I work with what I got. Mickey’s the one who was playing around with a gun and shot a hole in the floor of his house, killed the washing machine in the basement. Brittney may be cool. She’s motivated. Josh? I don’t know, man.”

  They piled into the Jeep. It took them an hour of crisscrossing the town before they had rounded up Dekka, Brianna, Taylor, Orc, and a handful of Edilio’s soldiers. They added a sedan and a giant Escalade to the convoy. Orc snoozed in the back of the Escalade.

  They had ten kids in the three vehicles. They paused in front of the town hall. Sam stood on the sidewalk, where he could be heard by everyone.

  “I’m sorry to drag you all out of your warm beds, but I think Caine is going to make a move on the power plant,” he said.

  “Let me run out there and warn them,” Brianna begged.

  “If you run ten miles at high speed you’ll be dead on your feet. Hungry as you are?”

  “Man, the Breeze can do ten miles in, like, a minute.” She snapped her fingers.

  Sam hesitated. It was true. Brianna could get there long before any of them. It was also true she’d be exhausted by it. He’d seen her when she had done those kind of distances. She wasn’t just worn out by it, she’d looked close to death.

  “Go. But stay out of trouble.” The last four words were said to a whoosh of air.

  He was probably overreacting, Sam told himself. Missing Junior Mints was not a very good reason to panic. He was going to look like an idiot.

  But his instincts told him he was right. He was right because if he were Caine, that’s what he would have done.

  He should have seen it. He should have seen it and been prepared. Just like he should have been prepared for the raid on Ralph’s.

  They drove away from the plaza. Past the graveyard Edilio had built, the one with far too many gravestones. Past the burned apartment building, the damaged preschool, the half-destroyed church.

  Sam told himself he’d been running as fast as he could, just keeping up with trivia, and trying to deal with the threat of starvation. It didn’t help. If Caine was after the power plant. . . .

  They drove two blocks more, and suddenly, right in the middle of the dark street, caught in the headlights, was Zil, running and waving his arms like a crazy person.

  “What do I do?” Edilio asked.

  Sam cursed under his breath. “Pull over. Let’s see what it is.”

  Edilio hit the brakes. Zil rushed over, breathless, panting, flushed. He leaned on the window as Sam rolled it down. “It’s Hunter, man. The freak killed Harry.”

  Dekka made a sort of growling noise in her throat that made Zil take a step back. But he wasn’t apologizing. “That’s right, he’s a freak. One of you people. And he used his freak powers to kill Harry. For nothing.”

  “Have you found Lana?” Edilio asked.

  “I don’t know where she is.”

  “Funny how you don’t call the Healer a freak,” Dekka pointed out.

  “Lana’s at Clifftop,” Sam said. “Great. Now I really could use Brianna. Okay, we’re going to have to hope I’m just being paranoid about the power plant. Edilio, drop me at Hunter and Zil’s place. Tell your crew to head back to the plaza, hang around there, wait for us. Then you’ll have to head up to Clifftop and see if you can find Lana. All right?”

  “Yep.”

  “Dekka, why don’t you stay with me to see what this is about.”

  “I’m going to go get some other normals,” Zil said. “Normals gotta know what’s happening.”

  Sam pointed his finger out of the window at him. “You’re going to run around waking people up out of a sound sleep? No. You come with us.”

  “No way, man. You and Dekka? You’re both freaks. Freaks always back each other up.”

  “You’re being an idiot, Zil,” Sam said. “I’m not going to have you running around and stirring up trouble.”

  “What are you going to do? Fry me?” Zil spread his hands in a gesture that was simultaneously defiant and innocent.

  “This is bull,” Sam said. “Get in, Zil. We’re wasting time arguing.”

  “No way, man. No way.” Zil turned and began to walk quickly away.

  “You want me to stop him?” Dekka asked.

  “No,” Sam said.

  “He’s going to make trouble.”

  “Sounds like Hunter already made trouble. Let’s get going, Edilio. Hopefully Breeze gets to the plant and at least wakes them up. The more I think about it, the more I think I overreacted. I don’t think Caine will start a war tonight.”

  “We may have our own war, right here in town,” Edilio said.

  EIGHTEEN

  18 HOURS, 47 MINUTES

  PATRICK FIGURED IT was all a party. His master was up in the middle of the night, and that was fun. Plus, now she was climbing into a pickup truck.

  Quinn was behind the wheel. Albert sat beside him. The backseat would normally have been a little cramped for Lana and Cookie, who was a very big kid, but Quinn had his seat pulled all the way forward so he could reach the pedals. Patrick climbed in and lay across Cookie’s lap.

  “You want to put the dog in the back?” Albert suggested.

  “And have him bark at everything we pass? Wake everyone up?”

  “Okay,” Albert said. He gave the dog a dirty look. Lana didn’t like that about Albert, that he didn’t like dogs, but this wasn’t the time to have that argument.

  At least Albert wasn’t joking about eating Patrick. She’d heard that from more than one person.

  The four of them—five, if you counted Patrick—had met up at a muffler shop on the highway. There was a heavy-duty four-by-four, extended-cab pickup parked there that Albert figured would be just right for the cross-country travel and the gold.

  “Guess I better see if I know how to drive this thing,” Quinn said.

  “You said you know how to drive,” Albert accused.

  “I do. I’ve driven Edilio’s Jeep, anyw
ay. But this is bigger.”

  “Great,” Albert muttered.

  Quinn turned the key and the engine roared. It seemed way too loud, like it would wake up the whole town.

  “Yikes,” Quinn said. He put it into drive, and the beast lurched forward, bumped across a curb, and fishtailed out onto the highway.

  “Hey, let’s not get killed, huh?” Albert yelled.

  Quinn steadied the truck and it went off at a sedate thirty miles an hour straight down the center of what had once been a busy highway.

  “You seem a little cranky, Albert,” Quinn said playfully. “Are you going to tell me what this trip is all about? I mean, it’s, what, three A.M.? We’re not going to kill a guy, right?”

  “You’re getting paid, aren’t you?” Albert snapped.

  “You haven’t told him?” Lana said from the backseat. “Albert, he has to know what’s going on.”

  When Albert didn’t answer, Lana said, “We’re going after gold, Quinn.”

  She saw Quinn’s eyes framed in the rearview mirror.

  “Um. What?”

  “Hermit Jim’s shack. The gold,” Lana explained.

  Lana saw Quinn’s eyes again, more worried. “Excuse me, but last time we were out there, we were getting chewed on by coyotes.”

  “You know how to handle a gun now. And you have a gun with you,” Albert said calmly. “And Cookie has a gun. You’re both trained.”

  “That’s right,” Cookie agreed. “But I don’t want to shoot no one. Unless they mess with the Healer.”

  “And we need gold why?” Quinn asked a bit shrilly.

  “We need money,” Albert said. “You can only get so far with barter. We need a system, and the system works better if you have a basis for the currency.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Okay, look, take the fish business, right?” Albert began.

  “It hasn’t been much of a business,” Quinn grumbled. “I barely caught enough yesterday to make bait.”

  “You’ll have good days and bad days,” Albert said impatiently. “Some days you’ll have a lot of fish. So let’s say you want to trade some fish for oranges.”

  “Sounds good, actually. You know someone with oranges?”

  “You have enough fish that you want to trade some for oranges, and some for bread, and some for a kid to clean your room for you. That’s three different places you have to go with your fish in your hand to pay someone.”

  “Is anyone else really starving right now?” Quinn joked. “I mean, dude: oranges? Bread? Stop.”

  Albert ignored him. “What you do if you have money, instead of just trading things, is you can have a market where everyone brings what they have to sell, right? All in one place. And everyone is walking around with pieces of gold, not their fish, or a wheelbarrow full of corn or whatever, trying to make deals.”

  Quinn said, “Either way, I’m standing around with my fish. Either I’m walking around selling them at this market of yours, or I’m standing still and people are coming to me to trade, but either way—”

  “No, man,” Albert interrupted impatiently. “Because you’re selling your fish to someone who sells it to other people. You need to be out fishing, because that’s what you’re good at. Not selling fish. Catching fish.”

  Quinn frowned. “You mean, I’m selling them to you.”

  “Could be,” Albert agreed. “Then I sell them to Lana. That way, Quinn, you’re doing what you do and I’m doing what I do, and to make all that work out easy peasy we need money of some kind.”

  “Yeah, well, since I’m doing this all night there may not be any fish tomorrow, either,” Quinn grumbled. Then he asked the question Lana expected. “Why are you coming along, Healer?”

  The use of her “title” bothered Lana; she wasn’t quite sure why. And the question on top of the title bothered her. She didn’t like the question. She shifted in her seat and stared out of the window.

  “She’s coming because I need a guide,” Albert said. “And I’m going to pay her. When I get the gold. Which brings us to a little something called credit.”

  Poor Albert, Lana thought as Albert launched into a lecture on the usefulness of credit. Smart kid. He’d probably end up owning the FAYZ some day. But he knew nothing of her reasons for going on this trip.

  All the gold in the world wouldn’t be enough to pay her for what she was planning to do. Gold couldn’t touch the cold dread that filled her heart. And gold wouldn’t be any use to her if she failed.

  “There’s more than money in the world,” Lana said, thinking she was speaking only to herself.

  “Like what?” Albert asked.

  “Like freedom,” Lana said.

  At which point Albert went on, talking about how money could buy freedom. Lana supposed he was right, in most cases. But not in this one.

  Not in this case.

  She couldn’t bribe the Darkness. But maybe, maybe . . . maybe she could kill it.

  Caine sat silent, biting his thumb, chewing at the ragged nail.

  Panda was driving. Computer Jack was squeezed in the backseat between Diana and Bug. They were the lead car. The second car, an SUV, was behind them, Drake and four of his soldiers. All were armed.

  They drove cautiously. Caine insisted on it. Panda had gotten better at driving, more confident, but he was still just thirteen. He still drove scared.

  The SUV behind, urged on no doubt by Drake, practically hung on their bumper, impatient.

  Down Highway 1, past abandoned businesses, weaving around crashed cars and overturned trucks. All the debris of the FAYZ, the litter left behind by all the disappeared.

  They turned onto the power plant road.

  “Don’t drive us off the road,” Caine cautioned. “It’s a long drop.”

  “Don’t worry,” Panda said.

  “Uh-huh,” Caine said. There was a cliff to the left, a hundred-foot drop to the ocean rocks below. Caine wondered if he could use his powers to stop the car falling in the event that it did topple over. That kind of thing might be worth practicing, to see if he could use his telekinetic power to suspend a falling object with him inside. It would take just the right balance.

  “What was that?” Panda cried.

  “What was what?”

  “I saw it, too,” Diana said.

  “Saw what?” Caine demanded.

  “Like a blur. Like something shooting past us.”

  There was silence. Then, Caine cursed. “Brianna. Faster, Panda!”

  “I don’t want to run off—”

  “Faster,” Caine hissed.

  The walkie-talkie crackled. Drake’s voice. “You guys see that?”

  Caine keyed his own set. “Yeah. Brianna. Either that or a tornado.”

  “She’ll get there before us,” Diana said.

  “She’s already there,” Caine agreed.

  “Don’t you think maybe we should do this some other time?” Diana asked.

  Caine laughed. “Just because Brianna is zipping around? I’m not worried about that girl.” It was phony bravado. Brianna “zipping around” could mean that an ambush was waiting. Or it could mean that Sam had been alerted and was already on his way.

  He keyed the walkie-talkie. “Drake. They may be ready when we get there.”

  “Good. I’m in the mood for a fight,” Drake answered.

  Caine twisted halfway in his seat to see Diana. Her nearly bald head was distracting. It had the strange effect of focusing his attention on her eyes and lips. He winked at her. “Drake’s not worried.”

  Diana said nothing.

  “You worried, Panda?” Caine asked. Panda was too terrified to answer. His fingers were white from gripping the wheel.

  “Nobody’s worried but you, Diana,” Caine said.

  Caine hadn’t asked Jack. He was going to be careful with Jack for a while. At least until the computer genius had given him what he needed.

  “Coming up on the gate,” Bug said.

  There was a brick guardhous
e beside a tall chain-link fence. Lights were blazing everywhere. Spotlights atop the guardhouse, trained down along the fence line in both directions. And beyond the gate the vast bulk of the power plant itself, humming, vibrating, a sinister presence in the night. It was bigger than Caine had imagined, and was comprised of several buildings, the largest of which looked like a prison. It could almost be a small city of its own. The parking lot was half full of cars, glittering in the glow.

  “There’s Brianna!” Caine cried, and pointed at the girl, doubled over, clutching the fence, tugging ineffectually at it. She glanced back fearfully at them, face blue-white in the headlights. She shouted something that Caine did not hear.

  In obvious frustration she rattled the chain link, unable to open it, unable, it seemed, to get the attention of anyone in the guardhouse. If anyone even was in the guardhouse.

  Panda slammed on the brakes and the car skidded.

  Caine leaped out and raised his hands toward Brianna. But in a blur she was gone only to reappear halfway up the hill to the right.

  “Hello, Brianna, long time no see,” Caine called to her.

  “Hello, Caine. How’s that leg where Sam burned your skin off?”

  Caine smiled at her. “Everyone out of the car,” he said in a whisper. “Now!”

  Panda, Jack, and Diana piled out. Bug may have piled out or not, Caine didn’t see him, but with Bug, that didn’t mean much.

  “Whatcha up to?” Brianna asked. She was chewing gum, trying to act nonchalant. But Caine could see that she had not yet recovered from the exertion. She would be tired. Hungry, too, no doubt. He wished he had some food to offer her. Like a bone for a dog. Test her loyalty.

  But they had not brought any food.

  “Oh, not much, Brianna,” Caine answered. He dropped his hands to his waist, arms crossed over his chest, and turned his palms toward the car behind him. Then, in a swift motion he rotated his arms up over his head and brought them down.

  The car jumped up off the ground. It was yanked into the sky like it was a giant’s yo-yo that had run out its string.

  The car inscribed a tight arc, twenty, thirty feet in the air, and hurtled down toward Brianna.

  The car smashed the dirt with shocking violence. The windshield and all the other windows shattered into a million glittering pieces. Like someone had set off a hand grenade inside. Two of the tires blew out. The hood popped clear off, twirled in the air, and crashed.