Gone Series Complete Collection

by Grant, Michael

  Zil’s heart was pounding. His mouth was dry. They weren’t really going to do this, were they?

  But Hunter had meat. And how else were they going to get the food from Hunter?

  Turk said, “We can’t just take out Hunter.”

  “Right,” Zil blurted.

  “We have to give him a trial first,” Turk said.

  And Zil found himself nodding. And he found himself grinning, like that had been his idea all along. And maybe it had been. Maybe it was what he had known in his heart had to happen.

  Yes, Zil told himself. You’re soft-hearted, but you know it’s what’s got to be, Zil. You know it’s what has got to be.

  Every face was turned toward him expectantly. Lisa, not so bad looking, really. Not when she smiled at him like he was some kind of rock star.

  “We’ll have a trial. Because the Human Crew is not just about doing random violence,” Zil said, sounding as though he believed it. Setting aside the fact that random violence, smashing windows and such, was all they’d done so far. “This has got to be about justice. Otherwise the other normals, our people, will be weird about it. So, we have to have a trial. Then we deal with Hunter. Give him justice. And we share some of the deer meat around, right?”

  “Yeah,” Lance agreed.

  “Bring kids over to our side,” Zil said. “It’ll be like, hey, Zil gave us justice and food.”

  “It will be the truth,” Turk said.

  THIRTY-SIX

  01 HOUR, 8 MINUTES

  DRAKE CREPT TO the hole in the exterior wall. The rim of the hole was still a little warm to the touch. He kept his face in the shadows, looked left, looked right.

  Caine wanted a diversion? Fine, he’d get a diversion.

  Drake saw Dekka in a lawn chair, head down, maybe dozing. He saw a tarp covering what could only be bodies. He saw two kids playing thumb war. Their guns were leaned against a car. He did not see Sam or his shadow, Edilio. He didn’t see Brianna.

  The sun was dropping out over the water. Night would fall soon. Caine had warned him to do nothing before Jack turned off the reactor.

  “You’ll see the lights in the parking lot go out,” Jack had said in his usual know-it-all voice. “And you’ll hear the turbines suddenly slow down.”

  Sam had to be out there somewhere, just beyond the narrow slice of parking lot that Drake could see. Had to be. Sam wouldn’t have left Dekka all alone with nothing but a couple of idiot sixth graders.

  Drake wanted to be the one to take Sam down. If he took Sam down, then no one would ever be able to argue with his claim to be the boss. When the big dogs fight it out, it’s the winner who rules. Caine had missed his shot at Sam. Drake wouldn’t miss his.

  But no matter how long he looked, he saw no evidence of Sam or anyone else worth worrying about.

  Just as he was turning away Orc stomped heavily into view. He headed toward the edge of the parking lot, toward some high grass.

  Drake laughed silently. The monstrosity had to take a pee.

  Okay, so it was Orc and Dekka and a couple kids with rifles. It would be foolish to take any of them lightly. Drake had fought Orc once before and not entirely won the battle. Of course he hadn’t been cradling a machine gun then.

  Drake rested his left hand on the rim of the hole. Hot but not too hot. He formed his hand into a bridge, then laid the barrel of the gun on his hand. He squatted to get into position. He laid his cheek against the cool plastic stock, closed his left eye, and lined up the rear and forward sights. He wrapped the tip of his tentacle around the trigger.

  He shifted the sights left an inch. Another inch. And now they were lined up on Dekka.

  Not yet. Wait until Jack had turned off the reactor. Then wait ten minutes more.

  But it had better be soon. The sun was casting long purple shadows and if the parking lights went out, Drake wouldn’t have much ability to aim.

  Dekka dozing. Looked like she was drooling.

  A short burst. That’s what he would do. Squeeze off a short burst and watch as the little red flowers blossomed all over Dekka’s—

  “Ahhh!” Howard yelled.

  Drake jerked back. So did Howard.

  Howard was right in front of him, right at the hole, peering in like some kind of tourist.

  Their eyes met.

  Drake yanked the gun to the left and fired. The gun bucked in his hands. But Howard had flattened himself against the wall.

  Dekka jerked awake.

  Drake cursed and aimed the gun at her.

  He squeezed the trigger. But Dekka was ten feet in the air and rising swiftly. The lawn chair twirled upward with her.

  Drake aimed. Like shooting at skeet, he thought. Lead the target just a little and—

  Belatedly Dekka stretched her hands out toward Drake. A suddenly weightless gun barrel rose too much. The burst tore the air over Dekka’s head and she fell as her own personal gravity returned.

  She slammed into the concrete. The chair landed on her. She didn’t move.

  Then slowly, slowly, she raised her head.

  Drake took his time. He looked at her. Saw that she was looking at him. Saw that she knew he had won. Saw the fear and resignation in her dark eyes.

  “Scratch one freak,” Drake whispered, and slowly squeezed the trigger.

  “We’ve got to sneak up on him,” Hank said. “Get him before he can do anything.”

  Zil was not happy about Hank giving the orders. Not happy at all. “The important thing is to knock him out fast before he can fry one of us. Then we tie him up and use the tinfoil.”

  “He’ll bake his own hands,” Turk said with grim contentment. “Like a turkey.”

  They made their way on foot, not wanting to be heard driving up. They raced across the highway, like they were being watched. Although they had no idea who might be doing that. It was fun. Like playing soldier when you were a little kid.

  There was no sign of Edilio’s soldiers. Or of any of Sam’s posse.

  They could smell the deer as soon as they crossed the road. It was amazing, Zil reflected, how well your sense of smell worked when you were really, really hungry.

  Zil motioned Hank and Turk and Lisa to stay put, hide behind the garage. He and Lance crept forward, edged around the side of the garage, crouched to peer through the slats of the fence.

  Hunter was wielding a big butcher knife. He was trying, very inexpertly, to slice off the deer’s hide. He was making a mess of it. Portions of the animal were cooked almost black. Other parts were bloody. Hunter stopped and hacked out a chunk of meat and stuck it in his greedy mouth.

  Zil’s own mouth watered, almost uncontrollably. His stomach hurt.

  Zil and Lance crept back to the others.

  “Greedy chud is eating it all up,” Zil reported. “I swear, he’s going to eat the whole thing himself.”

  “Yeah,” Lance agreed.

  “Okay, here’s what we do,” Zil said, laying out his plan.

  Turk, Hank, Lisa, and Zil took the long way around the house to come up from the other side. Lance had been given a crucial role to play because Hunter didn’t know him and had no reason to fear him.

  When all was in readiness, Lance stood up behind the fence. “Hey, dude.”

  Hunter spun, guilty and scared. “What are you doing sneaking up on me? Who are you?”

  “Dude, chill. I just smelled the meat. I’m hungry.”

  Hunter looked deeply suspicious. “I was going to sell it to Albert. Everyone can have some. I just fell asleep, is all, after I got some food. But I was getting it ready now.”

  Lance climbed over the fence, careful to look nonthreatening. “How about I help you skin that animal? In exchange for a little taste? Plus, you know you have to cut out its guts, right?”

  “Of course I know that,” Hunter said defensively. “I was getting ready to do that.”

  Zil thought it was obvious his old roommate knew no such thing. He watched, nervous and impatient, while Lance moved smoothly, conf
idently toward Hunter.

  Hunter’s whole attention seemed to be focused on the big, good-looking boy. But he wasn’t attacking. He wasn’t even threatening.

  “Now,” Zil whispered.

  He and Hank were first through the gate. They moved quickly, but quietly, not quite running.

  The mistake came when Lance glanced at them. Hunter saw the flicker in the boy’s eyes, looked over his shoulder, spotted Zil, turned too late, and caught Hank’s crowbar in the forehead.

  He dropped like a sack of rocks.

  Hank raised it up to hit him again. “That’s enough,” Zil said, staying Hank’s hand. “Tie him up. Foil his hands.” Then when Turk started tying Hunter’s hands in front of him, he said, “No, you moron, tie them in back.”

  Turk grinned sheepishly. “That’s why you’re the leader.”

  They bound Hunter tightly. Then Lisa came forward with a roll of Reynolds aluminum foil and wrapped it again and again around Hunter’s hands.

  Turk then wound a roll of duct tape around Hunter’s hands, imprisoning the fingers.

  Hunter did not move.

  Zil took two steps, snatched up Hunter’s dropped knife, and cut a hunk of meat from the deer’s hindquarters. The chunk of meat was half cooked, half near raw. He attacked the meat like a hungry wolf. The others laughed and did likewise. Turk ate too much and vomited into a corner of the fence. Then came back to reload.

  They fed and laughed with joy at their conquest.

  Hunter began to stir. He moaned.

  “Too bad we don’t have cement around,” Zil said. “Drake knew what he was doing when he plastered the freaks.”

  “Drake’s a freak, though, isn’t he?” Lisa asked innocently.

  The question gave Zil pause. Was Drake a freak? His whip hand had, according to legend, grown to replace the arm Sam had burned off in a fight.

  “I guess he is. I don’t know for sure,” Zil said thoughtfully, chewing the venison.

  “We need, like, some way of figuring out,” Turk said.

  Hunter moaned louder.

  “The freak’s waking up,” Lance said. “He’s going to have a headache.”

  That struck Zil as funny. He laughed. And when he laughed, the others joined in. “See, guys: stick with me and we get nice, fresh meat.”

  “Got that right,” Turk said.

  “So, leader, is it time to deal with this chud?” Hank asked, respectful but impatient.

  Zil laughed again. The food in his belly filled him with a sense of well-being. He felt almost giddy. And a little sleepy now, with the sun going down.

  And he liked the use of “leader” as a title for him. It fit. It felt fine.

  Zil Sperry. Leader of the Human Crew.

  “Sure,” Zil said. “Let’s have ourselves a trial.” He glanced around the yard. “Turk and Hank, drag him over to the back steps, prop him up.”

  Hunter could not seem to sit all the way up. He was conscious, but not fully. One of his eyeballs looked funny, and Zil realized it was because the pupil was twice as big as the other. It gave Hunter a stupid look that made Zil laugh.

  “You should have just admitted you stole my jerky,” he scolded Hunter.

  Hank knelt down to get right in Hunter’s face. “Do you confess that you stole the leader’s jerky?”

  Hunter’s head lolled to one side. He seemed to be trying to speak, but all that came out was a slurred sound.

  “Blrrrr gllll pluh,” Turk mimicked.

  “I think he said, ‘Yeah, I did it,’” Hank mocked.

  “I’ll interpret for him,” Turk said.

  Hank asked, “Hunter, do you admit you killed Harry?”

  Hunter said nothing, but Turk supplied the answer. “I sure do. I am a freak, nonhuman, chud scum who killed Harry.”

  Zil laughed happily. “What can we do? He confessed.” He adopted a severe tone. “Hunter, I pronounce you guilty. Guilty as charged.”

  “Now what?” Lisa wondered. “He’s hurt. Maybe we should let him go.”

  Zil was about to agree. His rage against Hunter was mostly burned out, the flames smothered by his sense of joy at having a full belly.

  “Going soft on a freak, Lisa?” Hank taunted.

  “No,” Lisa said quickly.

  Hank looked hard at her. “You think if we let him go he’ll just forget about this? No. He’ll get together with the other freaks and come after us. You think Sam will be gentle with us?”

  Zil looked at Lance. “What do you think, big guy?”

  “Me?” Lance looked troubled. “Hey, I do what you say, Zil.”

  So, Zil realized, it was on him. The thought soured the happy buzz. Up until now he had known he could more or less justify his actions. He could say, ‘Look, Hunter killed Harry. I was bringing him to justice.’ Kids would accept that. Sam might not accept it, but he probably would have no choice but to let it go.

  But if they actually executed Hunter, like Hank obviously wanted, then Sam and all his kids would come after Zil. And the reality was, the five of them wouldn’t last a minute in a fight with Sam.

  If they killed Hunter, it would be open war with Sam. Sam would win.

  Zil could not admit that, though. It would make him look pathetic.

  He was trapped. If he looked soft, Hank would turn against him. And Hunter was sure to come after them if they let him go. But killing Hunter would doom Zil.

  “We need more kids than just us five,” Zil said. “I mean, we need other kids to be in on this.”

  Hank looked wary.

  But Zil had an idea now. It was blooming like a flower in his mind. “Sam can fight the five of us, but he can’t take on the whole town, right? Who is he going to boss around if the whole town is against him?”

  “How we going to get a bunch of kids to be on our side?” Hank demanded.

  Zil grinned. “We have all this meat, right? Kids are really hungry. What do you think they would do for a deer steak?”

  Edilio drove faster than he ever had before. Seventy miles an hour down the highway, weaving through the abandoned or crashed trucks and cars. The wind whipped words away as soon as they were spoken, so they drove in silence.

  Turning onto the coast road that led to the power plant, Edilio had no choice but to slow down. There were hairpin turns, and a moment’s inattention would send them all hurtling down the slope through brush and boulders into the sea.

  Suddenly Edilio screeched to a halt.

  “What?” Sam said.

  Edilio held up a finger. He strained to hear. And there it was. “Gunfire,” he said.

  “Drive,” Sam said.

  Orc was peeing when he heard Howard yell, “Ahhh!”

  He didn’t care. Howard yelled more than was necessary. He was small and weak and scared easily.

  He turned around just as Drake fired. He could see the muzzle flash coming from a hole in the wall.

  Dekka was floating. Then falling. And Howard was pressed flat against the wall.

  “Orc!” Howard shouted.

  Dekka hit the ground. Not really a problem for Orc. He didn’t like Dekka much. She just ignored him, mostly, and looked away whenever he was close to her. Disgusted by the sight of him.

  Well, who wasn’t? Orc disgusted himself.

  Then he saw the face behind the gun. Drake. Drake had gone after Orc with his tentacle and whipped him. It hadn’t hurt much, but Orc still hadn’t liked it. Drake had been trying to kill him.

  Orc didn’t like Drake. That didn’t mean he liked Dekka. But Sam did, and Sam had been fair with Orc. Sam had gotten him beer.

  Orc wished he had a beer right now.

  Save Dekka, and Sam would probably reward Orc. Saving Dekka—that had to be worth at least a case. Maybe something from a foreign country. Orc hadn’t tried any of that beer yet.

  Drake was a hundred yards away. Dekka was half that distance. A motorcycle was parked just five feet away.

  Orc grabbed the motorcycle. He held the front wheel in one hand, t
he handlebars in the other. He twisted hard and the wheel came off easily.

  “Someone’s shooting!” one of Drake’s soldiers yelled, rushing in.

  “Yeah, guess who?” Diana said.

  “Too soon,” Caine snarled. “I told him to wait. Jack. Do it.”

  “I don’t want to rush and—”

  Caine raised both hands, lifted Jack up in the air, and threw him into the instrument panel.

  “Now!” Caine yelled.

  They were out of the control room, at a separate monitor that showed the inside of the reactor itself.

  Jack punched a sequence of numbers into a keypad.

  The electromagnets switched off.

  The cadmium control rods plunged like daggers.

  It was all silent on the black-and-white monitor. But the effect was immediate. The vibration of the turbines, the steady hum that had been part of the background, suddenly dropped in pitch.

  Lights flickered. The monitor picture wobbled then stabilized.

  “Is it safe to go in?” Caine demanded.

  “Sure, what could be dangerous about a nuclear—”

  “Shut up!” Caine shouted. “Open it up, Jack.”

  Jack obeyed.

  They stepped into a vast room that seemed to be made almost entirely of stainless steel. Stainless-steel floor. Stainless-steel catwalks. Cranes. Caine had the impression of a gigantic restaurant kitchen.

  What wasn’t stainless steel was safety yellow. Safety railings. The risers on steps. Signs in yellow and black warning of what surely no one who had made it here needed to be reminded of: radiation hazard.

  The dome overhead was like something out of a cathedral. But there were no frescoes decorating the painted concrete.

  Caine felt abashed by the scale of the place.

  At the center of it all, a circular pit, like some ghastly blue-glowing swimming pool. Not that any sane person would ever be tempted to jump in.

  A catwalk went all the way around. And a robotic crane hovered over it. Down there, below, in the sinister depths, were the fuel rods. Each filled with gray pellets that looked like nothing much. Stubby gray cylinders of what might as easily be lead.

  A massive forklift held a steel barrel in midair, poised. Right where the driver left it when he poofed.