“What do you want to do? Lynch him?” Astrid demanded.
That stopped the flow for a second as kids tried to figure out what “lynch” meant. But Zil quickly recovered.
“I saw him do it. He used his powers to kill Harry.”
“I was trying to stop you from smashing my head in!” Hunter shouted.
“You’re a lying mutant freak!”
“They think they can do anything they want,” another voice shouted.
Astrid said, as calmly as she could while still pitching her voice to be heard, “We are not going down that path, people, dividing up between freaks and normals.”
“They already did it!” Zil cried. “It’s the freaks acting all special and like their farts don’t stink.”
That earned a laugh.
“And now they’re starting to kill us,” Zil cried.
Angry cheers.
Edilio squared his shoulders and stepped into the crowd. He went first to Hank, the kid with the shotgun. He tapped him on the shoulder and said, “Give me that thing.”
“No way,” Hank said. But he didn’t seem too certain.
“You want to have that thing fire by accident and blow someone’s face off?” Edilio held his hand out. “Give it to me, man.”
Zil rounded on Edilio. “You going to make Hunter give up his weapon? Huh? He’s got powers, man, and that’s okay, but the normals can’t have any weapon? How are we supposed to defend ourselves from the freaks?”
“Man, give it a rest, huh?” Edilio said. He was doing his best to sound more weary than angry or scared. Things were already bad enough. “Zil, you want to be responsible if that gauge goes off and kills Astrid? You want to maybe give that some thought?”
Zil blinked. But he said, “Dude, I’m not scared of Sam.”
“Sam won’t be your problem, I will be,” Edilio snapped, losing patience. “Anything happens to her, I’ll take you down before Sam ever gets the chance.”
Zil snorted derisively. “Ah, good little boy, Edilio, kissing up to the chuds. I got news for you, dilly dilly, you’re a lowly normal, just like me and the rest of us.”
“I’m going to let that go,” Edilio said evenly, striving to regain his cool, trying to sound calm and in control, even though he could hardly take his eyes off the twin barrels of the shotgun. “But now I’m taking that shotgun.”
“No way!” Hank cried, and the next thing was an explosion so loud, Edilio thought a bomb had gone off. The muzzle flash blinded him, like camera flash going off in his face.
Someone yelled in pain.
Edilio staggered back, squeezed his eyes shut, trying to adjust. When he opened them again the shotgun was on the ground and the boy who’d accidentally fired it was holding his bruised hand, obviously shocked.
Zil bent to grab the gun. Edilio took two steps forward and kicked Zil in the face. As Zil fell back Edilio made a grab for the shotgun. He never saw the blow that turned his knees to water and filled his head with stars.
He fell like a sack of bricks, but even as he fell he lurched forward to cover the shotgun.
Astrid screamed and launched herself down the stairs to protect Edilio.
Antoine, the one who had hit Edilio, was raising his bat to hit Edilio again, but on the back swing he caught Astrid in the face.
Antoine cursed, suddenly fearful. Zil yelled, “No, no, no!”
There was a sudden rush of running feet. Down the walkway, into the street, echoing down the block.
Edilio struggled to stand. It wasn’t easy. His legs did not want to stay where he put them.
Astrid had a hand over one eye but was steadying Edilio with the other.
“You okay?” Astrid asked. “Did he shoot you?”
“I don’t think so.” Edilio patted himself down, searching for but not finding any wounds except for a growing knot on the crown of his head.
His vision cleared enough to notice the red welt where the bat had caught Astrid in the eye. “You’re going to have a shiner.”
“I’m okay,” Astrid said, shaky but strong.
Zil’s mob was gone. Disappeared. It was just the three of them left, Edilio, Astrid, and Hunter.
Edilio picked up the shotgun and cradled it carefully. “I guess that could have been worse. No one got shot.”
Astrid said, “Hunter, go inside and get some ice for Edilio’s head.”
“Yeah. No problem,” Hunter said. He hurried away.
With Hunter out of hearing Astrid said, “What are you going to do?”
“Sam said bring Hunter in.”
“Arrest him?” Astrid asked.
“Yeah, because all of a sudden I’m like the sheriff, too,” Edilio said bitterly, touching the lump on his head. “I must have forgot the day where I signed up for that.”
“Did Hunter really kill Harry?”
Edilio nodded, a movement which sent bright shards of pain stabbing into his brain.
“Yeah. Killed him. Maybe it was an accident like Hunter says, but either way I better take him and keep him in Town Hall.”
Astrid nodded. “Yeah. I’ll talk to him. Make him see it’s the only way.”
The two of them went inside. Hunter was not in the kitchen making ice packs. The sliding glass door to the backyard was open.
Brittney Donegal recoiled from the door when the banging started. Mickey Finch and Mike Farmer were already across the room, back by the plant manager’s office. They were waiting for Brittney to give them some guidance because neither of them had a clue.
Brittney was twelve years old, overweight, with a pimply face adorned by overbearing black horn-rim glasses. She wore sweat pants pulled up too high, and a pink frilly blouse that was at least one size too small. Her indifferent brown hair was yanked to either side in pigtails.
She had braces on her teeth—braces that had not been adjusted in three months. Braces that were accomplishing nothing now, but that she could not figure out how to remove.
Brittney had kind of had a crush on Mike Farmer, but he wasn’t exactly impressing her.
“We gotta get out of here, Britt,” Mike whined.
“Edilio said anything ever happens, we’re supposed to lock this door and sit tight,” Brittney said.
“They got guns,” Mike cried.
Another crashing impact. They all jumped. The door did not budge.
“So do we,” Brittney said.
“Josh is probably already heading back to town, safe, I bet,” Mickey said. “Mike’s right, we have to get away.”
Brittney wanted nothing more than to run away. But she figured she was a soldier. That’s what Edilio had said. Their job was to protect the power plant.
“I know we’re all just kids,” Edilio used to say. “But we may need kids to step up, someday, be more than just kids.”
Brittney had been in the square the day of the big battle. It was Edilio who had killed the coyote that was all over her, snapping at her throat, then seizing her leg in a jaw like a bear trap.
She had no scars from the coyote bite on her leg. The Healer had cured all that. And she had no scar from the bullet that had burned a crease across her upper arm. The Healer had taken all the wounds away. But Brittney’s little brother, Tanner, was one of the kids buried in the plaza.
Edilio had dug his grave with the backhoe.
Brittney had no romantic feelings for Edilio, but what she had went a lot deeper. She would rather burn for eternity in the hottest fires of Hell than let Edilio down.
Brittney had no scars, but she did still have nightmares, and sometimes not when she was asleep. Mike had been there that day, too, hurt worse than her. But it had left Mike scared and timid, while it had left Brittney mad and determined.
“Anyone comes through that door, I’m shooting them,” Brittney said in a loud voice, loud enough that she hoped to be heard by whoever was on the other side.
“Not me, I’m getting out of here,” Mickey said. He turned and ran.
“You want to run,
too?” Brittney challenged Mike.
“Lana’s not exactly here right now,” Mike said. “What if they shoot me? I’m just a kid, you know.”
Brittney tightened her grip on her machine gun. It hung from a strap over her shoulder. She’d long since gotten used to the weight of it. She had test-fired it four times, following Edilio’s training program. The first time she’d dropped it and burst into tears and Edilio had asked her if she wanted to quit.
But then Tanner had made his presence known, a soft voice that spoke to her when she was scared and told her not to worry, that he was in Heaven with Jesus and the angels. And he was so happy, not hurt or afraid or lonely anymore.
The next time she’d held on as the gun kicked in her hands. After that she’d more or less hit what she aimed at.
“If that’s Caine out there, I’m going to get him,” Brittney said.
“I hate him,” she said. “I mean, I hate what he did. Hate the sin, not the sinner. And I’m going to shoot him so he won’t hurt anyone else.”
The banging had stopped. Now something different was happening. The door seemed to be bulging inward. It creaked and groaned. There was a loud snap.
It was going to give way.
“Run away, Mike,” Brittney said. He was weak. Well, kids were, sometimes. She had to forgive that. “But leave your pistol.”
“Where do you want me to put it?”
Brittney stared at the door. It was bulging, straining. Something or someone very, very strong was pushing against it.
“On the floor. Underneath the last console. Back where no one can see it.”
“You should come,” Mike pleaded.
Brittney’s finger curled around the trigger. “No. I don’t think I’m going to do that.”
She heard his footsteps retreating down the hallway. She expected the door to give way in a few seconds. And then she figured she would be in Heaven with her little brother.
“Lord? Please help me to be brave,” Brittney said. “In Jesus’ name. Amen.”
“It’s okay if I die, Tanner,” she said, in a different sort of prayer, one she knew her dead brother could hear. “As long as Caine dies first.”
TWENTY
18 HOURS, 29 MINUTES
BRIANNA HAD NOT found Sam on the road to the power plant as she raced back to town. He was not on any of the roads. The only vehicle she had seen had Quinn, Albert, Cookie, and Lana out for a ride in a giant pickup truck. She’d thought about stopping them, telling them to go to the power plant, but none of the four was much of a fighter. Quinn and Cookie were both supposed to be soldiers, but the person she needed to find was Sam, not his useless old surfing buddy.
Sam wasn’t at the gas station. He wasn’t at town hall or in the plaza. He wasn’t anywhere she looked.
And Brianna was burning out fast. The speed was exhausting. Not as tiring as it should have been, probably, given that she had just run something like fifteen miles or so, dodging back and forth, up and down streets and alleyways. But exhausting. And the hunger was like a lion inside her, tearing at her insides.
Her sneakers were in tatters. Again. They didn’t build Nikes for going as fast as a race car.
Then she heard a loud bang. It was hard to guess where it had come from. But then suddenly there were kids running. Slow. Very slow. But as fast as they could run, poor things.
“What’s going on?” she demanded, screeching to a stop.
No one answered. If anything, they seemed scared of her.
It was clear, though, that they were running away from, and not toward something. So she zipped back up the street and in less time than it would have taken a normal heart to beat twice she was standing in Astrid’s open doorway.
“Hey. Anybody home?”
Astrid came out, followed by Edilio. It was obvious that neither was having a good night. Astrid had a red welt on the side of her face next to her eye. Edilio was rubbing his head gingerly and holding a massive shotgun.
“Where is Sam?” Brianna demanded. “What happened to you guys?”
“You missed the fun,” Edilio said sourly.
“No. No, I didn’t. You did!” Brianna yelled. “Caine is attacking the power plant.”
“What?”
“He’s there. He and Drake and some other guys.”
“What about our kids up there?” Edilio demanded.
“I didn’t see any of them. Look, Caine threw a car through the front gate. He’s real serious about this.”
“You know where Hunter lives?” Edilio asked.
Brianna nodded. But too fast to be seen. So she said, “Yeah.”
“Go there. Sam was there last I saw him. Tell him I’m getting my guys. It’ll take me half an hour to get everyone assembled again. Tell Sam I’ll meet him at the highway.”
“Your shoes,” Astrid said, pointing down at Brianna’s feet. “What size do you wear?”
“Six.”
“I’ll get you a pair from my closet.” But before Astrid could move, Brianna was up the stairs and back, sitting on the porch and tying on a pair of New Balance.
“Thanks,” she said to s startled Astrid.
“Don’t forget to—,” Astrid said, but between “don’t” and “forget” Brianna had arrived at Hunter’s house.
Dekka was just coming down the steps looking like a thundercloud. The girl barely flinched when Brianna appeared suddenly before her.
“Hi, Breeze,” Dekka said. She almost smiled.
“Sam in there?”
“Yep.”
Brianna appeared suddenly before Sam, who took it less calmly than Dekka had.
“Sam. Caine. He’s at the plant. I already found Edilio, he’s getting his guys together. Give me a gun, I’ll go keep Caine busy.”
Sam cursed loudly. It took a while before he was ready to stop. Then, “I knew it! I knew it, and I let myself get distracted.”
“Sam. Give me a gun.”
“What? No, Breeze, I need you. And not dead.”
“I can get back there in, like, two minutes,” Brianna pleaded.
Sam put a hand on her shoulder. “Breeze? You have a job. You’re the messenger. Right? We have other people for fighting. Go help Edilio get the troops together. Then go see if you can find Lana. I don’t know where she is and we’re going to need her.”
“She’s driving around in a truck with Quinn and Albert,” Brianna reported.
“What?”
“They’re in a truck, heading out on the highway.”
Sam threw up his hands. “Maybe they heard about Caine, somehow. Maybe they’re on the way there.”
“Yeah, I don’t think so. Albert wouldn’t be with them. Also, someone smacked Astrid.”
Sam’s face froze. “What?”
“She’s fine, but there was some kind of problem over at her house.”
“Zil,” Sam said through gritted teeth. He kicked savagely at a chair. Then, “Go, Breeze. Do what I told you to do.”
“But—”
“I don’t have time to argue, Breeze.”
“Guys? Guys?” Quinn reached across to shake Albert’s shoulder. He had fallen asleep.
“What? I’m awake. What?”
“Dude, we are lost.”
“We’re not lost,” Lana said from the backseat.
Quinn glanced in the rearview mirror. “I thought you were asleep, too.”
“We’re not lost,” Lana said.
“Well, all due respect, we’re not exactly not lost, either. This isn’t even a dirt road anymore, it’s just, like, you know, flat. And not even all that flat.” They had left the highway and turned onto a side road. From there onto a dirt road. And that had gone on and on forever, without so much as a twinkle of light anywhere. Then the dirt road had become more and more dirt and less and less road.
“If the Healer says we’re not lost, we’re not lost,” Cookie grumbled.
“It’s not far,” Lana said.
“How do you know? I couldn’t find my way
back here in the middle of the day. Let alone at night.”
She didn’t answer.
Quinn glanced down at the road, then back into the rearview mirror. The only light came from the dashboard, so he could see only the faintest outline of her face. She was looking out of the window, not the direction they were traveling but northeast.
He couldn’t read her expression. But he got a feeling off her. It was in the occasional sigh. In the absent way she stroked Patrick’s ruff. The distant tone of her voice when she spoke.
“You okay?” Quinn asked.
She didn’t answer. Not for a while. Too long. Then, “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I don’t know,” he said.
Lana said nothing.
Albert, by contrast, was easy to read. Albert—when he managed to stay awake—was all about the goal. He focused his gaze straight ahead. Sometimes Quinn noticed him nodding to himself, as if he was commenting on some internal dialogue.
Quinn was envious of Albert. He seemed to be so sure of himself. He seemed to know just where he wanted to go, who he wanted to be.
For his part, Cookie had his own goal: to serve Lana. The big ex-bully would do anything Lana told him to do.
There were two kinds of kids in the FAYZ, Quinn reflected, and the types were not “freak” and “normal.” They were kids who had been changed for the worse, and the kids who had been changed for the better. The FAYZ had changed them all. But some kids had become more than they were. Albert was one of those. Cookie, in a very different way, was another.
Quinn knew himself to be the first type. He was one of the kids who had never recovered from the FAYZ. The loss of his parents was like a wound that had never healed. Never stopped hurting. How could it?
It went beyond the loss of his mom and dad, too, a loss that encompassed everything he had known, everything he had been. He’d been cool, once. The memory brought a sad smile to his lips. Quinn was cool. One of a kind. Everyone knew him. They didn’t all like him, they didn’t all get his act, but Quinn had carried an aura of specialness with him.
And now . . . now he was an afterthought in the FAYZ. Kids knew he had betrayed Sam to Caine. They knew that Sam had taken him back. They knew that he had gone a little crazy on the day of the big battle. Maybe more than a little crazy.
Gone Series Complete Collection Page 62