Sam was on the deck, sitting with Astrid. Mohamed registered the fact that he had set out to tell Albert she was here and realized how completely he didn’t care about telling Albert anything.
He leaped aboard the boat, spun as though half-convinced the coyotes had followed him, and fell panting and gasping on the deck. Sam and Astrid both came to him. Astrid pressed a water bottle to his parched lips.
“What is it, Mo?” Sam asked.
Mohamed couldn’t answer at first. His thoughts were a tangle of images and emotions. He knew he should think about controlling the situation, at least find some kind of way to put himself in a better light, but he didn’t have the heart for it.
“Drake.” Mohamed gasped. “Coyotes.”
Sam was suddenly very still. His voice dropped in volume and register. “Where?”
“I was . . . on the road toward PB.”
“Drake and the coyotes?” Astrid prompted.
“They were . . . They had someone. On the ground. I couldn’t see who. I wanted to stop them!” Mohamed said this last in a pleading voice. “I had a gun. But . . . I . . .”
Mohamed looked at Sam, tried to meet his gaze, looking for something: Understanding? Forgiveness?
But Sam wasn’t looking at him. Sam’s face was like stone.
“You would have just gotten yourself killed,” Astrid said.
Mohamed grabbed Sam’s wrist. “But I didn’t even try.”
Sam looked at him as if he had just remembered Mohamed was there. His cold gaze flickered and became human again. “This isn’t your fault, Mo. You couldn’t have stopped Drake. The only one who could have stopped him is me.”
SEVENTEEN
20 HOURS, 19 MINUTES
“SOUND THE ALARM,” Sam ordered.
The alarm was a big brass bell they’d taken from one of the boats and mounted atop the two-story marina office.
Edilio ran to the tower, climbed up and up, and began ringing the bell.
A part of Sam’s mind was curious how well everyone would behave. They had practiced this three times before. When the bell rang certain kids were to run to the fields and alert kids there.
Each tent or trailer had an assigned boat to go to—either to the houseboats or sailboats, or onto smaller boats, anything bigger than a rowboat.
Edilio rang the bell and the few kids standing nearby looked around baffled.
“Hey!” Sam yelled. “This is not a drill; this is the real thing! Do it the way Edilio taught you!”
Brianna appeared in her usual startling way. “What’s up?”
“Drake,” Sam said. “But before you worry about him, make sure we’re getting everyone back from the fields. Go!”
Dekka came at a run. Slower than Brianna. “What is it?”
“Drake.”
Something electric passed between them and Sam had to stop himself from laughing out loud. Drake. Something definite. Something real. An actual, tangible enemy. Not some vague process or mysterious force.
Drake. He could picture him clearly in his mind’s eye.
He knew that Dekka was doing the same.
“He’s been seen with a pack of coyotes. It looks like they killed someone. Howard, most likely.”
“You think he’s on his way here?”
“Probably.”
“How soon?” Dekka asked.
“Don’t know. Don’t even know for sure he’s coming this way. As soon as Brianna’s free I’ll send her to scout.”
“No mercy this time,” Dekka said.
“None,” Sam agreed. “Do your thing.”
Dekka’s “thing” was basically being Dekka. She was respected to the point of awe by younger kids. Everyone knew she had been right up close with the most gruesome kind of death. She’d also been the one who saved the littles when Mary took the poof. And, of course, everyone knew how highly Sam thought of her.
So her place during the drills had been standing by the dock while everyone rushed to the boats. She was the antipanic presence. You just could not freak out when Dekka was eyeballing you.
Kids were just beginning to stream in from the fields, trotting along with all the food they could carry, watched over by a flitting Brianna.
The kids who had been in camp were already emptied out of the trailers and tents and had begun to take their places on the boats at the dock.
As soon as the boats had all their assigned passengers they cast off and rowed or poled or just drifted out onto the lake.
Orc came into view accompanying Sinder and Jezzie, all three weighed down with vegetables. Sam debated sharing his suspicions with Orc and decided against it. He might need Orc’s strength and near indestructibility. He couldn’t have the boy-monster charging off on his own.
In thirty minutes most of the population was in the motley collection of sailboats, motorboats, cabin cruisers, and houseboats that formed the Lake Tramonto armada.
In an hour all eighty-three kids were in seventeen different craft.
Sam looked out at the lake with some satisfaction. They had planned for this day, and amazingly enough, the plan had worked. All his people were on the water. The water they were on was drinkable, so there was no question of thirst. The lake provided a reasonable amount of fish, and all their stores of food were likewise in the boats.
And the kids could quite easily survive out there on the boats for a good week, maybe even two, without much problem.
If you ignored the fact that accidents would happen. And stupidity would happen.
And if you ignored the fact that the whole world might be dark very soon.
And that something was scrambling kids and coyotes together like they were making an omelet.
The only boat that didn’t pull out was the White Houseboat. Sam, Astrid, Dekka, Brianna, Toto, and Edilio met on deck, out where anxious kids peering from the surrounding mismatched watercraft could see them. (Sinder, Jezzie, and Mohamed had been packed off to other boats.) It was important to send the signal that they had things under control. Sam wondered how long that illusion would last.
“Okay, first things first,” Sam said looking at Brianna.
“I got it,” she said. She had her runner’s backpack. The one with a sawed-off double-barreled shotgun sticking through the bottom, turning the pack into a holster.
“Wait!” Sam yelled before she could disappear. “Find. Look.” He pointed his finger at her and leaned forward, making sure she heard. “And come back.”
Brianna made a fake wounded expression and said, “What, you think I would go and pick a fight? Me?”
That earned a laugh from everyone but Dekka, and the sound of that laugh was reassuring to the scared kids in the boats.
Brianna blurred out and Sam heard a cheer go up from multiple boats.
“Go, Breeze!”
“Yeah, the Breeze!”
“Breeze versus Whip Hand!”
Sam looked at Edilio and said, “Just what Brianna needs: a boost for her ego.” Then he said, “Anyone have any idea who was killed? Who’s missing?”
Edilio shrugged. He stood up, went to the side, and yelled to the boats. “Hey! Listen up. Is anyone missing?”
For a while no one had any suggestions. Then Orc, on the bow of a sailboat, and so heavy that the entire boat was two feet lower in the water at the front than at the back, said, “I haven’t seen Howard. But he’s always . . . you know . . . going off by himself.”
Sam met Edilio’s gaze. Both of them had already guessed it was Howard.
Sam saw Orc stand up, shifting the entire boat and in the process scaring Roger, Justin, and Diana, who were out there with him. He went below.
“It’s good you’re back,” Sam said to Astrid. “Orc trusts you. Maybe later . . .”
“I don’t think Orc and I—” she began.
“I don’t care. I may need Orc. So you may have to talk to him,” Sam snapped.
“Yes, sir,” she said with only a trace of sarcasm.
“Where’s Jack
?” Edilio asked, looking peevish. “He’s supposed to check in.”
“On his way,” Dekka answered, and pointed with her chin. “I see him. He’s just dawdling.”
“Jack!” Sam bellowed.
Jack was a hundred yards away. His head jerked up. Sam stuck his fists on his waist and glared impatience. Jack started running in his powerful, bounding way.
As soon as he reached the dock Edilio demanded to know what he thought he was doing. “You’re supposed to be armed and you’re supposed to be at the Pit.”
“What’s going on?” Jack asked sheepishly. “I was asleep.”
“Brianna didn’t wake you up?” Sam asked.
Jack looked uncomfortable. “We’re not talking.”
Sam pointed angrily at the boats bobbing on the lake. “I got five-year-olds getting two-year-olds where they’re supposed to be, but one of my two certified geniuses is asleep?”
“Sorry,” Jack said.
“He is,” Toto confirmed.
Sam ignored him. He was pumped full of adrenaline. Ready to forget about the disgusting mutation under the tarp. Ready to forget, for the moment, at least, that this might be the last real day they had. Ready to forget his worries about Caine and the missiles. Ready to push all those intractable problems and unanswerable questions aside, because now—now, finally—he had a straight-up fight.
Astrid took his shoulder and pulled him aside. He didn’t want a conference with Astrid: he had things to do. But he couldn’t quite say no. Not without listening first.
“Sam. This means your letter isn’t getting to Caine or Albert.”
“Yeah. So?”
“So?” Her incredulity was so sharp it made him take a step back. “So? So the lights are still going out, Sam. And we’re still facing a possible disaster. And you don’t know what Caine or Albert might do.”
“That’s for another day,” he said, chopping the air with his hand to cut off debate. “We have a slight emergency here.”
“Where is that ninny Taylor, anyway?” Astrid said angrily. “If she doesn’t show up, then send Brianna to get that note to Caine and Albert.”
“Brianna? Pull her off hunting for Drake? Good luck.”
“Then send Edilio and a couple of his—”
“Not now, Astrid. Priorities.”
“You’re choosing the priority, Sam. You’re doing the easy thing instead of the smart thing.”
That stung. “The easy thing? Drake suddenly shows up after being off the radar for four months? Don’t you think maybe it’s all one thing? Drake, the stain, whatever your ‘ignorant’ force is?”
“Of course I suspect it’s all one thing,” Astrid said through gritted teeth. “That’s why I want you to get some help.”
He held up one fist and began running down a list, raising a finger with each bullet point.
“One, Breeze locates him. Two, Dekka, Jack, and I converge. Three, whether he is Drake or Brittney, we cut him up, burn him in detail, piece by piece, and sink any ashes into the lake inside a locked, weighted metal box.”
He closed his fingers back into a fist.
“We’re putting an end to Drake once and for all.”
Drake heard the pealing of the bell. It was a distant sound but edgy and penetrating. He felt the urgency behind it. He guessed what it meant.
He cursed the coyotes, and not quietly, either. “They found the mess you left back on the road. Now they’ll be ready for us.”
Pack Leader offered no comment.
How soon before they sent Brianna after him? Soon. If she found them she would take out the coyotes in a few bloody seconds. And then she would keep him from advancing.
He had fought the Breeze before. She couldn’t kill him, but she could slow him down. She had chopped limbs from him. That kind of damage took time to repair.
And, of course, she would bring Sam. Sam and his little helpers. This time maybe Sam wouldn’t be put off by the emergence of Brittney. Maybe this time Sam would burn him inch by inch, as he had started to do once—
“Aaaarrrgh!” Drake shouted. He raised his tentacle and snapped it down, making a loud crack.
The coyotes watched impassively.
“I need to hide,” Drake said. It was a shameful thing to admit. “I have to hide until night comes.”
Pack Leader tilted his head and in his mangled speech said, “Human hunter sees. Does not smell or hear.”
“Brilliant observation, there, Marmaduke.” It was true: Brianna was not a coyote. She couldn’t smell him or even hear him unless he was pretty loud. He just needed a way to stay out of sight. “Okay, get me a place where I won’t be seen until dark.”
“High place with deep cracks.”
“Let’s make it quick, before they get around to sending your friend Swift Girl after us.”
The coyotes did not dawdle. They took off at a quick lope, moving with a sort of relentless fluidity around obstacles. It was uphill at first until they topped a rise. There Drake saw the barrier within a quarter mile.
He stopped and stared.
It was as if his master was reaching up from far underground with black claws. Like he was reaching to grab and then envelop this unnatural world with thousands of fingers.
It should have been inspiring. But it made Drake uneasy. This was the same black stain he had seen begin to spread into the gaiaphage itself.
It was a reminder that maybe not everything was right with the Darkness. It was a reminder that this mission was not born out of the gaiaphage’s ambition alone, but out of fear.
“Move,” Pack Leader urged anxiously. They were partially silhouetted atop the bluff. Drake ducked low. He could see the lake spread out below. If he could see, he could also be seen.
Drake hurried along behind Pack Leader, disappearing quickly amidst a maze of fallen rock and rain-etched bluff.
He had to suck in his breath to squeeze through the crack they’d found for him. One of the advantages of hanging out with coyotes: no one knew the terrain better.
There was no room to sit, barely room to stand. But Brianna wouldn’t find him; he was confident of that.
And he could see a narrow slice of the lake, a few boats, and a sliver of the sky.
Night was coming on.
OUTSIDE
NURSE CONNIE TEMPLE swallowed the Zoloft. It worked better than Prozac for her, left her less tired.
She chased it with most of a glass of red wine. Which would make her feel tired.
She turned on the TV and clicked without any real interest through the movies on demand. She wasn’t in her trailer. She was at the Avania Inn in Santa Barbara. It was where she regularly met Sergeant Darius Ashton.
They had started going out months earlier. He had shown up at one of the Friday cookouts. And soon after that they had realized that they would need to keep their relationship secret.
Connie heard the familiar knock. She let Darius in. He was short, only a couple of inches taller than she was herself. But he had a thick, hard body decorated with tattoos and scars he’d brought home from Afghanistan.
He had a six-pack of beer in one hand and a sheepish grin. Connie liked him. She liked the fact that he was smart enough to know that part of the reason she was with him—not all, just part—was that she was using him for information. He had lost most of the sight in one eye, so Darius was never going back to combat. His current assignment was to Camp Camino Real. He had been assigned to maintenance. He had no direct access to anything classified, but he heard things. He saw things. He hated his job, and if he couldn’t be a combat soldier he was determined to leave the service when his enlistment was up.
Basically Sergeant Darius Aston was killing time. He liked killing that time with Connie.
Connie sat on the bed drinking red wine. Darius drank his third beer and flopped in the chair with his feet up on the end of the bed, toes occasionally playing with hers.
“Something is up,” he said without preamble. “I hear the colonel threatened t
o resign.”
“Why?”
Darius shrugged.
“Is he out?” Connie asked.
“Nah. The general choppered in. They had a chat that could be heard from some distance. Then the general choppered out, and that was that.”
“And you have no idea what it was about?”
He shook his head slowly. He hesitated before he went on, and Connie knew there was something big coming. Something he was leery of telling her.
“My sons are in there,” Connie said.
“Sons? Plural?” He looked sharply at her. “I’ve only heard you talk about your boy Sam.”
She took a deep pull at the wine. “I want you to trust me,” she said. “So I’m telling you the truth. That’s how trust works. Right?”
“That’s what I hear,” he said dryly.
“I had twins. Sam and David. I guess I liked the biblical names back then.”
“Good strong names,” Darius said.
“They were fraternal, not identical. Sam was a few minutes older. He was the smaller one, though, by seven ounces.”
She started again and was surprised to find that her voice betrayed her with a wobble. She powered through it, determined not to get weepy. “I had postpartum depression. Pretty bad. You know what that is?”
He didn’t answer but she saw that he did not.
“Sometimes a woman, after she gives birth, her hormones go seriously off-kilter. I knew this. After all, I’m a nurse, although not much lately.”
“So there are pills and all,” Darius suggested.
“There are,” she confirmed. “And I kept it together. But early on I formed this . . . this fantasy, I suppose. That something was wrong with David.”
“Wrong?”
“Yes. Wrong. I don’t mean physically. He was a beautiful little baby. And smart. It was so strange, because I worried that I would prefer him to Sam because he was bigger and so alert and so beautiful.” Darius set aside his now-empty beer. He popped another.
“Then the accident. The meteor.”
“Heard about that,” Darius said with interest. “Like, twenty years ago, though, wasn’t it?”
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