Gone Series Complete Collection

by Grant, Michael

  So it toppled, but then, with surprising speed, it was on all fours. It crawled the few inches to Penny.

  It reached out a pudgy hand and touched the grisly wound.

  Penny gasped, a sound that might have been either pain or pleasure.

  Drake felt a stab of jealousy, thinking the gaiaphage might give Penny the gift of a whip hand. But no, all it did was to heal the wound.

  The baby healed the shotgun-destroyed flesh in seconds.

  And then the baby crawled back to her mother and nursed.

  Brianna had not expected to return to Justin. But there he was, breathing softly in the pitch-black. And here she was, a mess of cuts and bruises, but alive.

  “It’s me, kid,” she said wearily.

  “Did you rescue her?”

  “No. I didn’t. I couldn’t pull it off. It was a fight I couldn’t win. Not by myself. Besides . . .” She stopped herself, unwilling to explain about the baby. And about the overwhelming urge to place the baby on the gaiaphage.

  “I need to find Sam,” Brianna said. “Which is pretty hard in the dark.”

  “Take me, too, okay?”

  “Yeah. Of course, little dude, what am I going to do, leave you here?” Actually the thought had occurred to Brianna. She was already slowed to a crawl by the dark. With Justin she’d be moving at whatever it was that was slower than a crawl.

  They began feeling their way, inch by bruising inch, toward the mine shaft entrance. In her imagination, with her boundless optimism, Brianna still hoped that when they emerged they would find the world magically restored. Sun shining. Light everywhere.

  But when, after a terribly long time, Brianna finally felt clearer, cleaner air on her face, she knew her hope had been futile.

  The trip was from narrow darkness to wide-open darkness. She was still blind. And still slow.

  The bonfire in the plaza was much smaller now. They’d realized that it had to be if they were going to keep it burning. Even with Caine’s sullen help, ripping flammable materials out of buildings and carrying them to the fire was not easy. So now the bonfire was more like a campfire. And the light of it barely cast a glow on the first circle of kids. Most sat in darkness, staring at the fire, unable even to see the person sitting beside them.

  In the dark fights broke out. And there was nothing Quinn could do but yell at them.

  One fight went from curses to sickening thuds of some blunt weapon on flesh and bone.

  A few seconds later someone—no one knew who—dashed forward to grab a burning chair leg and ran off into the night.

  The first home fire had flared in the west end of town. It sent sparks a hundred feet into the air, and Quinn was certain it would spread. It didn’t seem to, at least not quickly, but the greater glow did draw some of the people to it. They could be heard jostling and calling out to one another as they felt their way to it like moths drawn to a lightbulb.

  “I wish I knew whether Sanjit was safe,” Lana said.

  “I was just thinking about Edilio for some reason,” Quinn said. “Somehow I always feel like if Edilio’s still standing, we’re not totally beaten yet.” He laughed. “Weird, I guess, because I didn’t used to like him. I used to call him a wetback. Not the worst thing I ever did, I guess, but I wish I could take it back.”

  Caine was resting beside them, having used his power to noisily rip some wooden doors off houses and then carry them back to feed the fire.

  “It’s stupid to waste time worrying about what you did,” Caine said. “It’s not going to matter.”

  “Your brother, Sam, he worries about it all the time,” Quinn said. He winced, thinking maybe that was violating a confidence. But weren’t they past all that? Past everything, in fact? Wasn’t this maybe the last peaceful conversation before the end?

  “Does he?” Caine asked. “Idiot.”

  So much for peaceful conversation. Caine was returning to form. Soon he’d grow tired of pretending to get along. Of course, for now he still liked the fire, as they all did. No wonder ancient man had worshiped fire. On a dark night surrounded by lions or hyenas or whatever, it must have seemed like it was more than just burning twigs.

  “I’m hungry!” a voice cried out of the dark.

  Quinn ignored it. It wasn’t the first such cry. It wouldn’t be the last. Not by a long shot.

  Lana had been quiet for a long time. Quinn asked her whether she was okay. No answer. So he let it go. But a few minutes later Patrick came nosing against Quinn, and so he said, “Lana, I think Patrick’s starting to wonder about dinner, too.”

  And again she didn’t answer. So Quinn leaned past his former king and saw Lana staring, eyes wide, into the fire.

  He reached past Caine and shook her.

  “What?” she snapped. Like someone awakened from a dream.

  “Are you okay?”

  Lana shook her head, a frown deepening the black and orange lines of her face. “None of us are okay. It’s free. Oh, my God, it finally did it.”

  “What are you ranting about?” Caine snapped, irritated.

  “The gaiaphage. It’s coming.”

  Quinn saw Caine snap his mouth shut. He saw Caine’s eyes widen. His jaw clenched hard.

  “I can feel it,” Lana said.

  “Probably just—” Quinn started to say something reassuring, but Caine cut him off.

  “She’s right.” He shared a strange, frightened look with Lana. “It’s changed.”

  “It’s coming,” Lana said. “It’s coming!”

  Quinn saw then what he never expected to see in this life: sheer terror in Lana’s eyes.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  4 HOURS, 6 MINUTES

  THE BABY TRIED to walk. But it failed. It toppled over, legs still too weak, coordination lacking. But it wasn’t supposed to try. It shouldn’t even be born, let alone attempting to stand up.

  “I’ll carry it,” Drake announced.

  “No,” Penny said. “You may need your whip hand free. I will carry it. My powers don’t need me to use my hands.”

  Diana could see that Drake was not happy. Not happy at all with Penny. He’d have been happier to see her die. Drake was now trapped with females he couldn’t just beat on or intimidate.

  “What do we do with her?” Penny pointed at Diana with utter contempt, curling her lips at Diana’s disheveled appearance. The torn clothing barely put back together. The stains. The wounds. The weakness.

  Drake’s dark discontent grew darker still. “The gaiaphage says she has to live.”

  Penny snorted. “Why? Is the gaiaphage getting sentimental now that it has a girl’s body?”

  “Shut up,” Drake snapped. “It’s just a body. It’s a weapon the master uses. He’s still he. He’s still what he always was.”

  “Uh-huh.” Penny smirked.

  Drake squatted down in front of Diana. “You’re a mess. You look like roadkill. You even stink. You’re sickening.”

  “So kill me,” Diana said, meaning it. Willing him to do it. “Do it, Drake. Big man. Do it.”

  Drake sighed theatrically. “Babies need milk. And you’re the cow, Diana. Moo.”

  That made him laugh, and Penny, after a hesitation during which Diana saw contempt for Drake in her eyes, joined in. More terrible by far, the baby girl, Diana’s baby, grinned as well, a weird smile revealing pink gums and no teeth.

  “Let’s go, cow,” Drake said.

  “Are you a moron?” Diana said. “I just had a baby. I can’t—”

  They hit her then, both of them, competing to see who could force her to her feet. Drake’s whip hand, Penny’s sick visions. Diana was on her feet, woozy, feeling she should vomit except that her stomach was empty.

  The greenish glow of the gaiaphage—because not all of the lurid green had flowed onto or into the baby—had faded so that there was almost no light. Within a few feet they found themselves in total blackness.

  Diana recalled that there were places where she might throw herself down a crevasse and end he
r hellish life. If Drake didn’t stop her.

  No, not Drake now; now it was Brittney. The sound of her breathing was different from his. Were the emergences coming faster? She dared to hope that Drake was weakening. She dared to hope that he and Penny would go after each other.

  Diana relaxed a little. Brittney was as much a tool of the gaiaphage as was Drake, but she lacked Drake’s own personal hate-fueled insanity.

  She also, unfortunately, had less knowledge of the path. And she did not intimidate Penny.

  “You know what would be creepy, Diana?” Penny asked. “If you were pregnant again. Only this time with, let’s say, a belly full of rats! Hungry rats!”

  Diana felt her belly swelling, felt the hundreds of—

  “No,” Brittney said calmly. “No. She’s our lord’s mother.”

  The illusion, barely begun, ended abruptly.

  “Shut up, Brittney,” Penny said. “Maybe I listen to Drake, but I don’t listen to you. You’re nobody.”

  Brittney didn’t argue. She just said, “She gave birth to our lord.”

  Penny must have tripped over a rock, because she went sprawling with the baby in her arms. She plowed into Diana, almost but not quite knocking Diana over.

  The baby hit solid rock with a sickening thud.

  From the darkness a thin wail of baby fury. It was the first time the baby had cried. It cried just like any baby.

  Diana felt her heart respond. And her body, as her breasts leaked milk.

  She felt in the dark and touched the baby’s arm. She fumbled the baby to her and cradled it. It latched on and again began to suck vigorously.

  In that first contact Diana had read the baby’s power level. A four bar now. The equal of Caine or Sam.

  A four bar. And still just a baby!

  “Our lady should carry our lord,” Brittney said.

  “Are you mental?” Penny was disbelieving. “Are you that stupid? You think this is Jesus in the manger and she’s Mary, you dumb metal-mouthed hick?”

  “I will walk in front,” Brittney announced. “I will make straight the way of the lord.”

  Diana looked down at the baby. She could see its cheek. Impossible. Nothing could be seen in this absolute darkness.

  And yet, she did see the baby’s cheek. And her squeezed-shut eyes. And her little rosebud mouth holding on. And then her fat little arm, and her tiny fist pressed into her mother’s breast.

  “She glows!” Brittney said. “Our lord gives us her light!”

  “That’s it, I’ve tried to put up with your—”

  “Hush!” Brittney put up a hand, amazingly visible in the glow that came from the baby. “She speaks to me. We must go forth. . . .”

  “Go forth,” Penny echoed with cutting sarcasm. “Hallelujah. Drake’s a psycho but at least he’s not a moron.”

  “We must go to the barrier and prepare for our rebirth.”

  Diana heard all this, but her thoughts were all for the baby at her breast. It was, after all, her baby. The gaiaphage might be inside it, might take over its thoughts and use it. But something in there was still her daughter. Hers and Caine’s.

  And if terrible things awaited this little girl, whose fault was that? The guilt lay on Diana and Caine.

  Diana had no right to reject Gaia.

  The name came to her as if she’d known it all along. It made her sad. It would have been so much better if she could have named her baby Sally or Chloe or Melissa. But none of those would have been the right name.

  Gaia.

  Gaia’s eyes opened. She squinted blue eyes at Diana.

  “Yeah,” Diana said. “I’m your mommy.”

  “It’s a trail of lights,” Dekka said. “Wow. I can see my hands.”

  She stepped close to the Sammy sun and checked her body for marks. Penny’s vision had been powerful. Even now it was almost impossible to believe it was just an illusion. But her skin was unmarked.

  “Most of them go that way.”

  Orc pointed, and Dekka could actually see him. Not well, of course. Each small pebble that made up his body was surrounded by blackest shadows. His eyes were down inside deep wells. The small patch of human skin around his mouth and part of one cheek looked as gray-green as every other part of him.

  But he was real, not just a sound and a resistance at the fingertips.

  “Yeah. But what does that mean if more go one way?” She could see perhaps half a dozen of the suns spreading out to the right. Just four to the left. “I mean, they could be blocked. And it’s not like they show up all that well anyway. If we had a compass . . . I mean, Orc, we don’t even know which way is which. We don’t know if Sam is moving right or left from this point.”

  “I have an idea. But it’s probably stupid,” Orc said.

  “Stupid ideas are all we’ve got. So what is it?”

  “Well, can’t you see better if you’re up high?”

  Dekka said, “Yes, as a matter of fact. And that’s not stupid at all. In fact, I don’t know why I didn’t think of it.”

  Orc shrugged his massive shoulders. “You’re having a bad day.”

  This was such an understatement, and yet so kind in a way, that Dekka had to laugh. “You could say that. So, Orc, you want to fly a little?”

  “Me?”

  “Why not you? There’re some rocks over there. Better than dirt, because when I switch off gravity the dirt tends to float up and get in your eyes.”

  They moved to a rock outcropping. Orc stood stiff, like he was on display and wanted to look right. Dekka did her thing and Orc rose. At ten feet he let out a huge, delighted guffaw.

  “Hah! This is fun!”

  At thirty feet she could no longer see him at all. “What do you see, Orc?”

  “Fire,” he said. “And I think the Sammy suns are going that way.”

  “I’m bringing you down now.”

  When he was back on terra firma Dekka said, “The fire. What did it look like?”

  “Like it was two or maybe three different fires, but all close together.”

  “Perdido Beach?”

  “Maybe,” he said reluctantly.

  “Okay, so we follow the Sammy suns toward town.”

  But Orc hesitated. “You can do that, Dekka. But me, I set out to find Drake and kill him.”

  “Orc, you must know we can’t look for anything. Not in this pitch-black. It could take us forever to just accidentally run into Drake.”

  He nodded, but he wasn’t really agreeing. “I don’t mind the dark as much you do, Dekka. In the dark I don’t have to be like I am. You know? People can’t see me. Anyway, there’ll likely be some booze back there in town. So I’m just going to go on in the dark. It’s probably better for me.”

  He held out his oversize paw and Dekka felt strangely moved taking it. “Thanks, big guy. You saved me, you know.”

  “Nah.”

  “No, listen to me, Orc. I know you have some bad stuff on your conscience.”

  He nodded and muttered, “But I’ve been forgave of that. I prayed and I was forgave.” Then he added, “But that don’t mean it doesn’t weigh me down.”

  “That’s what I’m saying, Orc. When all that weighs you down, you remember that you saved me. Okay?”

  He didn’t look too sure of that. But he may have smiled. It was hard to tell. And then he went galumphing off into the dark.

  Dekka followed the lights leading left.

  “There’s a light out there. Down the highway. It just appeared!” Lana said.

  “A Sammy sun!” Quinn said. The sense of relief was amazing. Sam was coming.

  He felt like he might well faint from the sheer release of tension.

  Quinn, Lana, and Caine—with Patrick as well—had snuck away from the dying campfire, leaving some of Quinn’s people in nominal charge. Not that anyone was able anymore to do more than yell, “Knock it off!”

  Torches were spreading through Perdido Beach, little knots of kids looking for food, water, beloved toys, or jus
t a bed.

  Now Sammy suns were blossoming like radioactive flowers on the highway.

  Patrick barked once, announcing himself, and took off down the highway.

  “Hail the conquering hero,” Caine muttered. “Mr. Sunshine.”

  After ten minutes a new Sammy sun appeared, perhaps no more than a hundred feet away, and they walked toward it, still moving carefully. The highway was littered with debris up to and including entire trucks.

  Then Quinn could make out two forms dimly outlined.

  The two groups came together and Sam illuminated the scene.

  “Quinn, Lana,” Sam said. One hand was scratching Patrick’s ruff. “Caine.”

  “Hey, brother. How’s it going? Some weird weather we’re having, huh?” Caine said.

  “What happened to your hands?” Sam asked.

  Caine raised his hands, still patched with concrete. “Oh, this? It’s nothing. I just need a little lotion.”

  “Astrid?” Lana said. “You’re back?”

  “About time,” Quinn said under his breath.

  “Well, then, it’s a happy ending,” Caine said savagely. “I love a happy ending.”

  Quinn was about to say something to Caine, something along the lines of shut up. But he stopped himself. Caine was a power-mad tool, but he’d been through hell this day. Sarcasm wasn’t the worst thing he was capable of.

  “You here to turn on some lights?” Lana asked. “Because as good as that would be, we have bigger problems. The gaiaphage is coming.”

  “How?” Astrid asked sharply. “Everyone says the gaiaphage is a green encrustation in the bottom of a mine shaft.”

  “I don’t know how,” Lana said, a little evasively. “It just is. That’s why we’re standing out here. We weren’t waiting for you. We’re waiting for it.”

  “I won’t ask how you know,” Astrid said.

  “Yeah?” Lana shot back. “Well, here’s my question, Astrid: why aren’t you arguing more? I tell you this is happening and you just meekly accept it? You know something.”

  “Oh, Astrid? She knows everything,” Caine said.

  “It has Diana,” Astrid said. She tilted her head and considered Caine. “And your baby, Caine. At least, Diana says it’s yours.”