“You killed him,” Brittney said. She spoke more in wonder than in accusation.
Astrid heaved a shuddering sigh. Tears ran down her face. She had no words.
Brittney was becoming angry. “He’ll get you for this, Astrid. His rage will find you. Sooner or later.”
“Drake or the gaiaphage?” Jack asked.
Brittney bared her braces in a feral grin. “We are the arm of the Darkness. He will send us to take you. Both of you.”
“Let’s go, Astrid,” Jack said, without taking his eyes off Brittney. Astrid felt the strength of his grip on her arm. She yielded.
She was almost blinded by her tears, her mind a confusion of emotions: self-loathing, disgust, anger.
And worst of all: relief.
He was gone. Little Pete was dead. And now it would end at last. The FAYZ wall would be gone. The madness would be over.
Relief. And the sickening realization that she was glad she had done it.
Jack led her down the stairs. He lifted a terribly injured, mangled Orc effortlessly. Orc was moaning in pain and crying that they should leave him to die.
“No one is dying,” Jack said harshly. “We’ve had enough of that.”
Astrid walked obediently behind Jack as he carried Orc down the hill toward town.
And she wondered as she walked, how it could be that the FAYZ was ended and yet Jack was still so strong.
Dahra Baidoo emerged from the so-called hospital for the first time in what felt like days.
Virtue held her up, although he was shaking so badly he could barely walk himself.
Both of them were covered in gore. The hospital was a slaughterhouse. The single bug that had made it inside had simply massacred kids too sick to stand, let alone run.
Virtue told himself that most of those kids were too sick to survive anyway. But that knowledge would never wipe the horror from his memory.
He had been wedged into a corner behind a cot, cowering and praying, and begging to be spared. He had thrown things at the bug, but bedpans and bottles were nothing to the monster.
And then, in an instant, the creature was gone.
Its bloody mandibles had been scraping the wall, trying to dislodge Virtue. Inches and milliseconds from gruesome death.
And then . . . nothing.
Gone.
Virtue had heard nothing but the sound of his own sobbing.
And then the sounds of others crying.
And an insistent, mad howl of despair.
Dahra was screaming as he drew her gently from beneath a body.
“It’s gone,” he’d said.
She couldn’t stop shaking. Couldn’t stop howling. And Virtue was suddenly back in that refugee camp in the Congo, remembering things he’d witnessed when he was still too young to understand.
A terrible fury boiled up inside him. An uncontrollable rage against everyone and everything that made the world a hell of fear and pain and loss.
He wanted to smash things. He wanted to bellow like a wild animal.
But Dahra had ceased howling, and now just stared up at him, needing someone, someone to finally take care of her.
Virtue took her hand and put his arm around her shoulder. “We’re getting you out of here,” he said gently.
There were kids crying out in pain. But Virtue knew that Dahra could no longer respond. So he led her out into the cool, fresh air.
The bodies of the bugs were all gone. The bodies of those they had killed were not.
Virtue didn’t know where to take Dahra. After all, she was the one kids took other kids to. He didn’t know anyone to help her. Maybe no one could help her.
He led Dahra to the ruined church. It was quiet inside, although it, too, had been a scene of battle. He cleared a space for her in a pew. He sat her down, sat beside her, so weary, and closed his eyes and prayed.
“God in your heaven, look down and take pity on this girl. She has done enough.” He sighed and added a doubtful, “Amen.”
Virtue did not stay long. There were still kids needing help.
He ran into his brother heading toward the hospital. Sanjit hugged him tight and said, “They’re gone, Choo. They’re all gone.”
Virtue nodded and patted Sanjit’s back reassuringly.
Sanjit held him out and looked at his face. “Are you okay, brother?”
“I’ve had better days,” Virtue said.
“So, I guess the island’s looking even better now, huh?” Sanjit asked. “You were right, it’s one big open-air asylum.”
Virtue nodded solemnly and glanced back at the church. “Yeah, but there’s a couple of saints mixed in with the crazies.”
Caine walked stiffly back to town. He was burned, scraped, punctured, bruised, and might, he thought, have broken a couple of ribs.
But he had won.
The only downside—aside from the various pains that made him wince with every step—was that he hadn’t done it alone. Brianna had scored an assist. He couldn’t stand her, but man, was she good in a fight.
And some unseen, unknowable force had caused the bugs the two of them had just killed to disappear. Even their broken-off legs, their fluids and guts had disappeared. Like they’d been wiped entirely out of existence.
Brianna had zoomed off to leave him limping all alone. No doubt she was bragging and claiming all the credit.
But it wouldn’t work. No, everyone had seen him walking toward the threat. And now the threat was gone, just as he had promised. He had delivered. He had earned his rightful place.
Just as he crossed the highway into town, the first kids came rushing up to him, grateful, giddy, wanting to slap palms.
“You did it, man! You did it!”
He refused their high fives and stood very still, looking at them, and just waited.
They seemed uncertain, a little worried. And then it dawned on them.
The first one bowed his head. It was a jerky, awkward gesture, but that was okay with Caine: they’d learn.
The second kid, then a third and a fourth, rushing up to join in, bowed their heads to Caine. He nodded in solemn acknowledgment and walked on, no longer feeling nearly so much pain.
THE MORNING AFTER
SAM COULD NOT face the town and the kids there. If he went into town now, there might be a fight with Caine. He couldn’t face a fight. Later. Not now. Not yet.
He had seen the sudden and complete disappearance of the bugs. One minute the creatures that had hatched inside Dekka had been floating in the water and the next second they were gone.
He thought he knew what had happened. Only one power was great enough to cause them to cease to exist.
Against all odds, Jack must have succeeded in throwing Little Pete to the bugs. Only Petey could have done it. Sam’s desperate, lunatic plan had worked, had actually worked.
But once Astrid knew that he was the one who had ordered Jack to do it, she would never speak to him again.
The town was saved. But Sam was lost.
You ordered the death of a five-year-old autistic boy, Mr. Temple?
The accusing tribunal was back.
That’s right, he told them in his imagination. That’s what I did.
He walked until he found himself at the cliff. The last time he’d been there . . . Well, groping Taylor seemed like a fairly small sin, now.
That’s right. And because I did the bugs were destroyed. And lives were saved.
You don’t get to make those decisions, Mr. Temple. God decides life or death.
“Yeah?” Sam said aloud. “Well, I don’t think much of His decisions.”
He stared out at the sea. He was standing just where Mary had stood when she jumped. But he was not tempted to follow her. Mary had been driven to insanity.
“That’s right,” Sam said to no one. “I did it. And it worked.”
“Sam.”
He spun on his heel. Astrid stood there. Jack was a hundred feet back and showing no desire to come any closer.
&n
bsp; “Astrid.”
Her eyes were red and swollen. She was looking past him, staring at the barrier with an expression he couldn’t read.
“It’s still there,” she said.
He glanced at the impervious wall. “Yeah.”
“But . . . but Petey’s dead,” she said. “It should have stopped. It shouldn’t be there. It should all be over.”
“I’m sorry about Little Pete.”
“It’s still there.”
“I guess—,” he began.
“For nothing! I killed him for nothing!” Astrid cried. “Oh, God, no! I did it for nothing!”
“You? You didn’t . . .” But then he saw the look in Jack’s eyes. Jack nodded, then looked down at the ground.
Instinctively he moved to Astrid, to put his arms around her. But something stopped him. He knew she wouldn’t welcome it.
It struck him then with the force of a revelation that she could not be with him while she felt weak or out of control. Astrid needed to be strong. She needed to be . . . Astrid.
And right now? She wasn’t. He had never seen her look so lost. He would have so happily taken her in his arms. But she wouldn’t have him. Not like this.
“Astrid . . .”
“For nothing,” she whispered.
He stepped back. “Astrid, listen: I had told Jack to do it. It was the only way. If you hadn’t . . .”
But she wasn’t listening. A look of pure hatred, a look he’d never have thought she was capable of, transformed her face. Was it for him? For the barrier?
For herself?
“I left, you know. I left town with Orc. And then I left Petey. I just walked out the door at Coates. I abandoned him. Him and Orc. Both of them needed me. But I walked away because I thought, ‘If I stay, I’ll be tempted.’ A simple act of murder. You know how a phrase will get stuck in your head and go around and around?”
He didn’t answer. She didn’t want him to answer. But yes, he knew.
“I knew if I killed Petey, it would all end,” she said. “And then, you know what? I walked around out there in the dark, just around in a big circle. And I talked myself out of it. See, I made sense of it all in my mind. Because I’m very, very smart.”
She laughed bitterly at that.
“Who is smarter than me? Astrid the Genius. I worked it all out and I made all the right arguments. And I prayed. And I came to a good and moral decision. And then? When I was there, and Drake . . . and I thought about Drake . . . when I thought . . .” She couldn’t go on.
“Astrid, we’ve all had to do—”
“Don’t,” she said. “No. Don’t.”
“Look, come with me,” he said. He reached for her, but he could feel a cold and impenetrable wall around her. She was somewhere else now. She was someone else. His hands dropped back to his side.
“How you must laugh at me with all my arrogance and superiority,” Astrid said quietly. “I wonder how you could stand me. Don’t you want to say, ‘I told you so,’ Sam? How can you not? If I were you, I’d say, ‘See? See, you silly, sanctimonious idiot? Welcome to Sam’s world. This is what I do, these are the decisions I make.’”
Yes. A part of him wanted to say that. A part of him wanted to say those very words. Welcome to my world. It’s not so easy being Sam, is it? He tried not to let that emotion show on his face, but it must have because Astrid nodded slightly as if he’d spoken.
He said all he could think of to say. “I love you, Astrid. No matter what, I love you.”
But if she heard him, she gave no sign. Astrid turned and walked away.
FIVE DAYS LATER
IT HAD BEEN a long time since so many kids filled the plaza. Not everyone had come, but most had. Looking down from the town hall steps, Sam saw faces that were fearful, others that were happy, and of course, as with any group of kids, some were just playing.
It was a good thing, he told himself, this ability to find some little piece of joy to hold on to.
The graveyard had swollen terribly. But the flu had burned itself out at last. There had been no new cases for forty-eight hours. No one was celebrating, no one was relaxing, but the deadly flu seemed to have run its course at last.
He stole a glance at his brother. Caine looked confident, certainly more confident than Sam felt. Caine wore the look of a self-appointed king well, Sam thought gloomily. He was perfectly dressed in gray slacks and a navy blazer over a pale blue collared shirt. How had he managed it?
The rest of his “court” were nowhere near as well turned-out, but were nevertheless better looking than Sam or his crew.
Diana, Penny, Turk, and Taylor all stood behind Caine.
Sam was with Dekka, but no longer the seemingly fearless, intimidating Dekka he had always known. She was weak in body, still recovering, and weaker still in spirit.
Brianna wasn’t standing so much as vibrating in place, unable to keep entirely still. She looked distracted and angry and was definitely refusing to make eye contact with Dekka.
Jack was the surprise to Sam, that he would bother to dress neatly and remember to show up. Jack was growing, had grown, as a person.
Edilio sat in a lawn chair. He looked like he was still close to death’s door, but the cough was gone, his fever was down, and he was determined.
The most notable absence was Astrid. She should have been there. He scanned the crowd for any sign of her. But no one had seen her. The gossips said she’d moved into a small apartment at the edge of town. Others said they’d seen her walking down the highway toward the Stefano Rey.
Sam had hoped she would appear today for the Big Break-Up, as Howard had dubbed this strange ceremony. But she was nowhere to be seen. And Sam’s friends now carefully avoided mentioning her name.
Toto stood awkwardly, self-conscious, twitchy, between the two separate camps.
“I think everyone is here,” Caine announced.
“He doesn’t believe that,” Toto said.
Caine smiled indulgently. “I think everyone is here that is likely to come,” Caine corrected.
“True,” Toto said.
“Yeah,” Sam said. His mouth was dry. He was nervous. He shouldn’t care. This shouldn’t matter. It wasn’t as if he’d ever wanted to be a leader, let alone a popular one.
Caine held up his hand, signaling it was time for everyone to quiet down.
“You all know why we’re here,” Caine said in his fine, strong voice. “Sam and I both want peace—”
“Not true,” Toto said.
Caine’s eyes flashed angrily. But he forced a smile. “Toto, for those of you who don’t know, is a freak with the power to tell truth from lie.”
“True,” Toto said.
“So. Okay. Let me start over,” Caine said. “Sam and I don’t like each other. My people don’t like his people, and his people feel the same way about us.” He paused to look at Toto.
Toto nodded and said, “He believes this.”
“Yes, I do,” Caine said dryly. “We have different visions for the future. Sam here wants to move everyone to this lake of his. I want to stay here in Perdido Beach.”
The crowd was very quiet. Sam was both irritated and relieved that Caine was doing all the talking.
“Sam and I also have different ideas about leadership. Sam thinks it’s a burden. Me? I think it’s an opportunity.”
“He . . . he believes that,” Toto said. But he was frowning, perhaps sensing something about Caine that was neither true nor false.
“Today, each of you will make a decision,” Caine said. “To go with Sam, or to stay here. I won’t try to stop anyone, and I won’t hold it against anyone.” He placed his hand over his heart. “For those who choose to stay, let me be very clear: I will be in charge. Not as a mayor, but as a king. My word will be law. My decisions will be final.”
That caused some murmuring, most of it unhappy.
“But I’ll also do everything I can to leave each of you alone. Quinn, if he chooses to stay, can still fish. Alb
ert, if he chooses to stay, will still run his business. Freaks and normals will be treated equally.”
He seemed about to add something else but caught himself after a sidelong look at Toto.
The silence lengthened and Sam knew it was time for him to speak. In the past he’d always had Astrid at his side for things like this. He was not much of a speaker. And in any case, he didn’t have much to say.
“Anyone who goes with me has a vote in how we do stuff. I guess I’ll be more or less in charge, but we’ll probably choose some other people, create a council like . . . Well, hopefully better than we had before. And, um . . .” He was tempted to laugh at his own pitiful performance. “Look, people, if you want someone, some . . . king, good grief, to tell you what to do, stay here. If you want to make more of your own decisions, well, come with me.”
He hadn’t said enough to even cause Toto to comment.
“You know which side I’m on, people,” Brianna yelled. “Sam’s been carrying the load since day one.”
“It was Caine that saved us,” a voice cried out. “Where was Sam?”
The crowd seemed undecided. Caine was beaming confidence, but Sam noticed that his jaw clenched, his smile was forced, and he was worried.
“What’s Albert going to do?” a boy named Jim demanded. “Where’s Albert?”
Albert stepped from an inconspicuous position off to one side. He mounted the steps, moving carefully still, not entirely well even now.
He carefully chose a position equidistant between Caine and Sam.
“What should we do, Albert?” a voice asked plaintively.
Albert didn’t look out at the crowd except for a quick glance up, like he was just making sure he was pointed in the right direction. He spoke in a quiet, reasonable monotone. Kids edged closer to hear.
“I’m a businessman.”
“True.” Toto.
“My job is organizing kids to work, taking the things they harvest or catch, and redistributing them through a market.”
“And getting the best stuff for yourself,” someone yelled to general laughter.
“Yes,” Albert acknowledged. “I reward myself for the work I do.”
This blunt admission left the crowd nonplussed.
Gone Series Complete Collection Page 150