Hunger_A Gone Novel

by Michael Grant

  Astrid said. “Because I’m totally off in guesswork. And it

  doesn’t really explain much, even if it’s true. Big ‘if.’ Really

  big ‘if.’”

  456 M I C H A E L

  G R A N T

  “But?” Sam prompted.

  “But maybe this thing that’s been living under the ground

  for thirteen years has been living on radiation. Feeding on

  it. Think about a virus that could survive thousands of years

  in the environment of space. The only possible food source

  would be hard radiation.”

  The next part was hard for Astrid. Sam could see the

  way her lip quivered. “The power company lied: they never

  cleaned up all the radiation from the accident. It’s been under

  our feet all this time, seeping into the water, being absorbed

  into the food we eat.”

  Astrid’s father had been an engineer at the power plant.

  She must be wondering whether he had known of the deception.

  “They may not even have known they didn’t get it all,” Sam

  said. “The people who worked there—they probably didn’t

  know.”

  Astrid nodded. The quiver stopped. The tight anger in her

  expression remained. “As the gaiaphage mutated, so did some

  of us. Maybe some kind of synthesis. I don’t know. But one

  safe guess is that the gaiaphage began to run out of food. It

  needs more. It can’t get to it, it can only attempt to make others do its will. I think—I believe—that the meltdown Little Pete stopped was caused by someone at the plant. Obeying

  the gaiaphage. Attempting to blow up the plant, which would

  spread radiation everywhere, kill everything nearby . . . except

  for the creature that lives on radiation.”

  “Little Pete stopped the meltdown. Created the FAYZ. But

  H U N G E R

  45

  7

  he did not destroy the gaiaphage. And the gaiaphage is still

  hungry.”

  “Hungry in the dark,” Little Pete said.

  “Caine’s going to feed it,” Sam said.

  “Yes.”

  “And then?”

  “And then, the gaiaphage will survive and adapt. It can’t go

  on living in a hole in the ground, relying on others. It needs

  to be able to escape. To move freely. And to survive attacks

  from us.”

  “Maybe it’s good if it comes out to fight,” Edilio said.

  “Maybe we can kill it.”

  “It knows what powers we have,” Astrid said. “And it has

  had some help imagining ways to build a body that would be

  invulnerable.”

  “Help? Help from who?”

  Sam put his hand on Edilio’s arm, calming him. “From

  someone who doesn’t know what he’s doing,” he said.

  “Nestor,” Little Pete said.

  “Try some, dude. What are you, three years old?” Antoine

  tried to pass the joint to Zil. Zil waved it off.

  “I’ve tried it before,” Zil said. “I didn’t like it.”

  “Yeah, right.” Antoine took a long pull off the joint and

  began coughing like he was hacking up a lung. He coughed

  so violently, his knee hit the coffee table and knocked over

  Zil’s water.

  “Hey,” Zil yelled.

  458 M I C H A E L

  G R A N T

  “Oh, sorry, man,” Antoine said when he could speak again.

  Lance took a hit, made a face, and handed it off to Lisa. She

  giggled, smoked, coughed, then giggled some more.

  Zil had never had a girlfriend before. Girls didn’t like him.

  Not like, like. He had never been one of the popular kids.

  In the old days Zil was mostly known for the strange lunches

  his mother packed for him. They were always vegan, organic,

  and always very “green,” with nothing disposable, nothing

  prepackaged. Unfortunately much of what his mother packed

  for his lunch smelled. Vinegar dressing for salads, tapenade

  or hummus reeking of garlic, stuffed grape leaves.

  Zil loved his mom and dad, but the coming of the FAYZ

  had been liberating in one way: he’d finally been able to eat

  all the cookies and chips he’d wanted. He’d even done what

  his parents would have considered unforgivable: he had eaten

  meat. And he’d liked it.

  Of course now he would give anything to have a gooey

  wad of hummus and some whole wheat pita bread.

  He had no food. What he had were stomach pains. And his

  crew. His posse. The Human Crew. All of whom, he realized,

  were losers. Except for Lance. Lance being there kind of made

  them look cooler than they were. He even managed to look

  cool by the flickering candlelight.

  “The freaks have food,” Turk said for the thousandth time.

  “They always have food. Regular kids are going hungry, but

  the freaks always have enough.”

  Zil doubted that, but there was no point arguing about it.

  It wasn’t some crazy story about the freaks having food that

  H U N G E R

  45

  9

  made him hate them. It was their superior attitude. But whatever.

  “I heard Brianna caught some pigeons and ate them,” Lisa

  said, then giggled. Zil wasn’t sure if she always giggled, or was

  mostly giggling because she was high.

  She was drawing on a pad, perching a small flashlight on

  her lap and using a Sharpie to do variations on the letters “H”

  and “C” for Human Crew. She had a version that Zil kind of

  liked where the “H” and the “C” were sort of joined, slanted

  to one side, all hard edges.

  Antoine had found the weed in his parents’ bedroom.

  While conducting yet another desperate search for food.

  “That’s what I’m saying,” Turk said, pointing at Lisa like

  she was evidence. “They have their ways of getting food. The

  freaks all work together.” Turk was not smoking. He was staring at Zil. Like Zil might have some solution. Like Zil was going to have some kind of plan.

  Zil didn’t have a plan. Zil just knew that freaks were running things in the FAYZ. And not just in Perdido Beach, but up the hill at Coates, too. And now at the power plant. Freaks

  running everything. Well, freaks and their helpers, like Edilio

  and Albert and Astrid.

  And the other thing Zil knew was that things were a mess.

  People were starving. And if the freaks were in charge, who

  else’s fault could it be?

  “They have food, I guarantee you,” Turk said.

  “Yeah, well, we have tree,” Antoine said, and laughed at his

  own wit.

  460 M I C H A E L

  G R A N T

  The front door opened and Zil reached for his baseball bat,

  just in case. It was Hank. Hank came in, stepped right up to

  Antoine, who was easily twice his size, and said, “Put that

  away.”

  “What are you, the po-po?”

  “This is not about getting stoned,” Hank said. “That’s not

  what Zil is about. That’s not what the Human Crew is.”

  Antoine looked blearily at Zil. Zil was surprised at hearing

  himself referred to as if he had some larger meaning. It was

  flattering. Also confusing.

  “Yeah, put away the weed, man,” Zil said.

  Antoine made a dismissive
noise.

  To everyone’s amazement, Hank knocked the joint from

  Antoine’s hand.

  Antoine rose from the couch, looking like he might flatten

  little Hank. But Zil said, “No. No fighting between ourselves.”

  Lance said, “Yeah. That’s right,” but he didn’t sound too

  sure.

  It was left to Turk to settle the matter. “Hank’s right. Zil’s

  not about us acting like everyone else, like kids. Zil’s about

  us dealing with the freaks. If we sit around getting high, Zil’s

  not going to be able to deal with the problem. He needs us to

  be cool.”

  “Yeah,” Lance agreed. “But be cool about what?”

  “I found Hunter.” Hank delivered the news with quiet

  pride. Like he was presenting a straight-A report card to his

  parents.

  H U N G E R

  46

  1

  Zil jumped to his feet. “You found him?”

  “Yeah. He’s across the highway, hiding out in a house over

  there. And you’ll never guess what he’s got there.”

  “What?”

  “Food. The mutant freak killed a deer. Then he cooked it

  with his freak powers and last I saw he was cutting it up with

  a knife.”

  “Keeping it all for himself,” Turk said. “Just him and the

  other freaks. They’ll eat venison, the rest of us can go boil

  some grass or whatever.”

  Zil’s mouth watered. Meat. Actual meat. And not rat or

  pigeon, but something that was almost like beef.

  “I’ve eaten venison,” Lance said. “It’s good.”

  “Has to be better than dog,” Antoine said. “Although I’d

  eat some more dog right now, if I had any.”

  “What do we do?” Lance asked Zil.

  Every eye, even Lisa’s, turned to Zil. “What do you think

  we do?” Zil asked rhetorically, stalling for time.

  “We go get him!” Antoine said.

  Zil slapped Antoine on the shoulder and laughed. “Yeah.”

  Then he high-fived Hank. “Good work, man. Venison is on

  the menu.”

  “Right after we hang Hunter,” Hank said.

  That stopped the conversation cold.

  “Say what?” Lance asked.

  Hank looked coldly at Lance. “You think the freak is just

  going to give us the food? He’ll kill us, if he gets the chance.

  Freaks don’t care about us, don’t care if we starve. Anyway,

  462 M I C H A E L

  G R A N T

  he’s a murderer, right? What are you supposed to do with a

  murdering freak?”

  Zil swallowed hard. Hank was pushing this thing too far.

  It was one thing busting on Sam, trying to get some respect

  for normals.

  To Zil’s relief, Lance spoke up. “Dude, I don’t think we

  want to, like, kill the guy ourselves.”

  “It was Zil’s idea,” Hank said. “That first night. Why did

  we have a rope with us if we weren’t going to execute justice

  on Hunter?”

  The rope had not been Zil’s idea. But should he admit that?

  He’d just figured on giving Hunter a beating. He wanted

  Hunter to cry and confess that he’d stolen that last shred of

  beef jerky. He hadn’t been thinking about actually killing

  Hunter. That was just talk.

  “You think Sam and Edilio and all of them are going to let

  us just execute Hunter?” Lance argued.

  Hank smiled. It was a strange, little-boy smile. Innocent.

  “They’re all gone. Dekka’s at the power plant, right? And Sam

  and Edilio just blew out of town in that Jeep. The whole bunch

  of them, off trying to deal with Caine, I guess.”

  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.

  H U N G E R

  463

  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

  D R A K E C R E P T T O 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 H U N G E R

  46

  5

  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 lef
t 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

  466 M I C H A E L

  G R A N T

  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

  H U N G E R

  46

  7

  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.”