Gone Series Complete Collection

by Grant, Michael

  Even though it would really only take Dahra a few seconds to grab a Prozac or whatever she had.

  Mary almost ran smack into Lana who was sitting outside on the town hall steps smoking a cigarette.

  Her hands were stained red. No one had water to waste on washing off blood.

  Lana glanced up at her. “So. How was your night?”

  “Me? Oh, not great.”

  Lana nodded. “Burns. They take a long time to heal. Bad night. Bad, bad night.”

  “Where’s Patrick?” Mary asked.

  “Inside. He helps kids stay calm,” Lana said. “You should get a dog for the day care. Helps kids . . . Helps them, you know, not notice that their fingers are burned off.”

  Something she was supposed to check on. No, not meds. Something else. Oh, of course. “I hate to ask, I know you’ve had a hard night,” Mary said. “But one of my kids, Justin, came in crying about his friend Roger.”

  Lana almost smiled. “The Artful Roger? He’ll live, probably. But all I had time to do was keep him from dying right away. I’ll have to spend a lot more time with him before he’s going to be drawing any more pictures.”

  “Z’anyone know what happened?” Mary’s lips and tongue felt thick.

  Lana shrugged. She lit a second cigarette from the butt of the first. It was a sign of wealth, in a way. Cigarettes were in short supply in the FAYZ. Of course the Healer could have whatever she wanted. Who was going to say no?

  “Well, it depends on who you believe,” Lana said. “Some kids are saying it was Zil and his idiots. Others are saying it was Caine.”

  “Caine? That’s crazy, isn’t it?”

  “Not so crazy. I heard crazier from kids.” Lana laughed humorlessly.

  Mary waited for Lana to add something. She didn’t want to ask, but she had to. “Crazier?”

  “Remember Brittney? Girl who died in the big fight at the power plant? Buried right over there?” Lana pointed with her cigarette. “I have kids saying they saw her walking around.”

  Mary started to speak, but her clumsy mouth was dry.

  “And even crazier stuff than that,” Lana said.

  Mary felt a chill deep inside her.

  “Brittney?” Mary said.

  “Dead things don’t always stay dead, I guess,” Lana said.

  “Lana . . . what do you know?” Mary asked.

  “Me? What do I know? I’m not the one with a brother on the council.”

  “John?” Mary was surprised. “What are you talking about?”

  There was a loud groan of pain from the basement. Lana didn’t flinch. But she noticed Mary’s concerned expression. “He’ll live.”

  “What are you getting at, Lana? Are you, um, saying something?”

  “This kid tells me Astrid told him to spread the word that Orsay is full of crap. Then, same kid says, a couple hours later, Howard tells him to spread the word that anyone who sees anything crazy is full of crap. So the kid says to Howard, what are you talking about ‘crazy?’ Because everything is crazy in the FAYZ.”

  Mary wondered if she was supposed to laugh. She couldn’t. Her heart was pounding and her head was banging, banging.

  “Meanwhile, guess what Sam’s doing a couple of days ago? He’s over at Clifftop asking me if I happen to have gotten a telephone call from the gaiaphage.”

  Mary stood very still. She wanted desperately for Lana to explain what she meant about Orsay. Focus, Mary, she told herself.

  Lana went on after a moment. “See, what Sam really wanted, was to know whether it’s dead. The gaiaphage. Whether it’s really gone. And guess what?”

  “I don’t know, Lana.”

  “Well, it’s not. You know? It’s not gone. It’s not dead.” Lana took a deep breath and stared at the blood dried on her hands like it was the first time she’d noticed. She peeled some off with a thumbnail.

  “I don’t understand . . .”

  “Me neither,” Lana said. “It was there with me. In my mind. I could feel it. . . using . . . me.” She looked ashamed. Embarrassed. And then her eyes flashed angrily. “Ask your brother, he’s in with all of them, Sam and Astrid and Albert. At the same time Sam is asking me whether the gaiaphage is still its old lovable self and council kids are asking other kids to run around dissing Orsay and making sure no one thinks anything’s wrong.”

  “John would never lie to me,” Mary said, but with a lack of conviction even she could hear.

  “Uh-huh. Something’s going wrong. Something’s going really, really wrong,” Lana said. “And now? The town is half burned and Caine’s stealing a boat and heading out to sea. What does that tell you?”

  Mary sighed. “I’m too tired for guessing games, Lana.”

  Lana stood up. She flicked her cigarette away. “Just remember: the FAYZ is working out fine for some people. You ever think about what would happen if the walls came down tomorrow? That would be good news for you. Good for most people. But would it be good for Sam and Astrid and Albert? Here they’re big deals. Back in the world they’re just kids.”

  Lana waited, watching Mary closely. Like she was waiting for her to say something or react. Or deny. Something.

  All Mary could think to do was say, “John is on the council.”

  “Exactly. So, maybe you should ask him what’s really going on. Because, me? I don’t know.”

  Mary had no answer to that.

  Lana squared her shoulders and headed back toward the hell of the basement. She turned halfway down and said, “One other thing I almost forgot: this one kid? He said Brittney wasn’t the only officially dead person walking around in the fire.”

  Mary waited. She tried not to show anything, but Lana had already seen it in her eyes.

  “Ah,” Lana said. “So you saw him, too.”

  Lana nodded once and was gone down the stairs.

  The Darkness. Mary had only heard of it from others. Like stories of a boogeyman. Lana said it had used her.

  Did Lana not see? Or did she simply refuse to see? If it were true that Brittney was somehow alive, that Drake was alive, too, then Mary could guess just how the gaiaphage had used Lana’s power.

  THIRTY-ONE

  9 HOURS, 17 MINUTES

  ASTRID HAD WAITED all night for Sam to come back.

  Waited all morning.

  Smelling the stink of smoke.

  From the office in town hall she saw the fire spread the length of Sherman, down the west side of Sheridan, down the single block of Grant Street, and two blocks of Pacific Boulevard.

  It seemed certain to reach the plaza. But finally the fire’s march stalled.

  Now the flames were mostly out, but a plume of smoke continued to rise.

  Little Pete was asleep in the corner, curled into a ball with a ratty blanket thrown over him. His game player was on the floor beside him.

  Astrid felt a towering wave of disgust. She was furious with Sam. Furious with Little Pete. Mad at the whole world around her. Sickened by everyone and everything.

  And mostly, she admitted, sick of herself.

  So desperately sick of being Astrid the Genius.

  “Some genius,” she muttered. The town council, headed by that blond girl, what was her name? Oh right: Astrid. Astrid the Genius. Head of the town council that had let half the town burn to the ground.

  Down in the basement of town hall Dahra Baidoo handed out scarce ibuprofen and expired Tylenol to kids with burns, like that would pretty much fix anything, as they waited for Lana to go one by one, healing with her touch.

  Astrid could hear the cries of pain. There were several floors between her and the makeshift hospital. Not enough floors.

  Edilio staggered in. He was barely recognizable. He was black with soot, dirty, dusty, with ragged scratches and scrapes and clothing hanging in shreds.

  “I think we got it,” he said, and lay straight down on the floor.

  Astrid knelt by his head. “You have it contained?”

  But Edilio was beyond answering. He was
unconscious. Done in.

  Howard appeared next, in only slightly better shape. Some time during the night and morning he’d lost his smirk. He glanced at Edilio, nodded like it made perfect sense, and sank heavily into a chair.

  “I don’t know what you pay that boy, but it’s not enough,” Howard said, jerking his chin at Edilio.

  “He doesn’t do it for pay,” Astrid said.

  “Yeah, well, he’s the reason the whole town didn’t burn. Him and Dekka and Orc and Jack. And Ellen, it was her idea.”

  Astrid didn’t want to ask, but she couldn’t stop herself. “Sam?”

  Howard shook his head. “Didn’t see him.”

  Astrid found a jacket in the closet, probably still there from the real mayor. It was a loud plaid thing. She draped it over Edilio. She went to the conference room and came back with a chair cushion which she slipped under Edilio’s head.

  “Was it Zil?” Astrid asked Howard.

  Howard barked a laugh. “Of course it was Zil.”

  Astrid clenched her hands into fists. Sam had demanded a free hand to go after Zil. He’d wanted to deal with Human Crew.

  Astrid had stopped him.

  And the town had burned.

  And now the basement was full of hurt kids.

  And the ones who were just hurt were the lucky ones.

  Astrid twisted her hands into a knot, an anguished, prayerful gesture. She had a powerful urge to drop to her knees and demand some kind of explanation from God. Why? Why?

  Her gaze fell on Little Pete, sitting quietly, playing his dead game.

  “And that ain’t all of it,” Howard said. “You have some water?”

  “I’ll get you some,” a voice said. Albert had entered the room unnoticed. He found the water jar and poured a glass for Howard, who drained it in one long swallow.

  “Thanks. Thirsty work,” Howard said.

  Albert took the seat Astrid had vacated. “What’s the rest of it?”

  Howard sighed. “All night kids were coming by, right? Crazy stories. Man, I don’t know what’s true and what’s not.”

  “Tell us some stories,” Albert urged quietly.

  Edilio snored softly. something about the sound made Astrid want to weep.

  “Okay. Well, you’ve got kids saying they saw Satan. Seriously, devil horns and all. And others kept it a little more real, saying Caine, but skinny and crazy acting.”

  “Caine?” Astrid’s eyes narrowed. “Caine? Here? In Perdido Beach? That’s crazy.”

  Albert cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. “No. It’s not crazy. Quinn saw him, too. Up close. Caine stole the two emergency boats late last night or early this morning. Depending on how you see it.”

  “What?” The shrill exclamation made Edilio stir.

  “Yeah. No question it was Caine,” Albert said in a forced calm voice. “He came though while the fire was at its worst and everything was confused. Quinn and his people were just coming back in, wanting to help, and there was Caine and maybe a dozen kids with him.”

  As Albert laid out the details Astrid grew cold inside. Not a coincidence. It couldn’t be a coincidence. It was planned. Somehow in the back of her mind she had pictured Zil just losing it, acting out, maybe losing control of a situation that got out of hand. But that wasn’t it. Not if Caine was involved. Caine didn’t lose it. Caine planned.

  “Zil and Caine?” Astrid said, feeling stupid even thinking it.

  “Zil’s whole thing is hating freaks,” Howard said. “And Caine? Let’s face it: he’s kind of the Prince of Wales of freaks.”

  Albert cocked an eyebrow.

  “You know, Sammy being the king,” Howard explained. “Okay, the joke’s no good if I have to explain it.”

  “Caine and Zil,” Astrid said. It felt better somehow putting the names in that order. Zil was a thug. An evil, twisted little creep who exploited the differences between freaks and normals. But smart he was not. Maybe cunning. But not smart.

  No. Caine was smart. And in Astrid’s mind it was impossible that the stupider of the two would be in control. No, it had to be Caine behind all this.

  “Also . . . ,” Albert said.

  At the same time, Howard said, “Plus . . .”

  Edilio woke up suddenly. He seemed surprised and confused to find himself on the floor. He looked around at the others and scrubbed his face with his hands.

  “You missed a little,” Howard said. “Caine and Zil worked together on this.”

  Edilio blinked like an owl. He started to get up, then sighed, gave up, and leaned his back against the desk.

  “Also,” Albert said before Howard could continue, “there must have been some kind of falling-out. Because Zil’s guys started shooting at Caine as he was pulling away. They got one of the boats. Quinn pulled a couple of Caine’s kids out of the water.”

  “What did you do with them?”

  Albert shrugged. “We left them. They weren’t going anywhere. They’re starved. And Quinn says he thinks maybe they’ve gone a little crazy.”

  Albert picked fastidiously at a spot of something on his pants. “Caine took out Hank. Hank was the one shooting.”

  “Jesus,” Astrid said. She crossed herself quickly, hoping that doing so would turn the word from blasphemy to blessing. “How many kids died last night?”

  Edilio answered. “Who knows. Two that we know of in the fires. Probably others. Probably we won’t ever know for sure.” A huge sob escaped from him. He wiped at his eyes. “Sorry. I’m just tired.”

  He wept silently after that.

  “I guess I might as well get this out there, too,” Howard said. “A couple of kids are saying they saw Drake. And a lot have seen Brittney.”

  Silence stretched after that. Astrid found a chair and sat down. If Drake was alive . . . If Caine was working with Zil . . .

  “Where’s Sam?” Edilio asked suddenly, as though he’d just noticed.

  No one answered.

  “Where’s Dekka?” Astrid asked.

  “In the basement,” Edilio said. “She kept going for a long time. Her and Orc and Jack. But she’s sick. Tired and sick. And she got a bad burn on one hand. That was it for her. I made her go to Dahra. Lana will . . . you know, when she’s done with . . . Man, I’m sorry,” he said as he began crying again. “I can’t be digging graves. Someone else has to do that, okay? I can’t do that anymore.”

  Astrid realized that Albert and Howard were both staring at her, one with intense curiosity, the other with a weary smirk.

  “What?” Astrid snapped. “You’re both on the council, too. Don’t look at me like it’s all up to me.”

  Howard laughed grimly. “Maybe we better get John here, huh? He’s on the council, too. Sammy’s missing, Dekka’s out of it, Edilio’s losing it and he should be losing it, the night he had.”

  “Yes. We should get John here,” Astrid said. It felt wrong bringing the little kid into this, but he was on the council.

  Howard laughed, loud and long. “Yeah, let’s get John here. That way we can stall for a while longer. We can keep on doing nothing for just a little while longer.”

  Albert said, “Take it easy, Howard.”

  “Take it easy?” Howard jumped to his feet. “Yeah? Where were you last night, Albert? Huh? Because I didn’t see you out there on the street listening to kids screaming, seeing kids running around hurt and scared and choking, and Edilio and Orc struggling, and Dekka hacking up her lungs and Jack crying and . . .

  “You know who couldn’t even take it?” Howard raged. “You know who couldn’t even take what was happening? Orc. Orc, who’s not scared of anything. Orc, who everyone thinks is some kind of monster. He couldn’t take it. He couldn’t . . . but he did. And where were you, Albert? Counting your money? How about you, Astrid? Praying to Jesus?”

  Astrid’s throat tightened. She couldn’t breathe. For a moment panic threatened to overwhelm her. She wanted to run from the room, run away and never look back.

  Edilio got
to his feet and put an arm around Howard. Howard allowed it, and then he did something Astrid never thought she would see. Howard buried his face in Edilio’s shoulder and cried, racking sobs.

  “We’re falling apart,” Astrid whispered for herself alone.

  But there was no easy escape. Everything Howard had said was true. She could see the truth reflected in Albert’s stunned expression. The two of them, the smart ones, the clever ones, the great defenders of truth and fairness and justice, had done nothing while others had worked themselves to exhaustion.

  Astrid had figured her job was to bring order out of chaos when the night of horror was finally over. And now was the time for her to step up. Now was the time for her to show that she could do what needed doing.

  Where was Sam?

  It hit her full force then, the shocking realization. Was this how Sam felt? Was this how he’d been feeling since the beginning? All eyes on him? Everyone waiting for a decision? Even as people doubted and criticized and attacked?

  She wanted to be sick. She had been there for so much of it. But she hadn’t been the one. She hadn’t been the one making those choices.

  And now . . . she was.

  “I don’t know what to do,” Astrid said. “I don’t know.”

  Diana leaned far out over the side of the boat and dipped her head into the water. She kept her eyes closed at first, intending to come straight back up once her hair was wet.

  But the flow of cool water around her ears and scalp was so very pleasant that she wanted to see and wanted to stay there. She opened her eyes. The salt water stung. But the pain was a new pain and she welcomed it.

  The water was green foam, swirling down the side of the boat. She wondered idly if Jasmine would come floating up toward her, face bloated, pale . . .

  But no, of course not. That was a long time ago. Hours. Hours like weeks when you’re hungry and sunburned and now thirst is screaming at you to drink, drink the lovely green water like punch, like Mountain Dew, like refreshing mint tea, so cold all around your head.

  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.