Lies g-3

by Michael Grant

  “Drake! Drake!”

  She tripped and sprawled facedown on the concrete. She rose to her knees and held up scraped, bloody palms.

  Edilio raced toward her, none-too-gently pushing wandering kids out of the way.

  There was a bright red line on Mary’s face. Magic marker? Paint?

  Blood.

  “Drake! He’s in the day care!” Mary screamed as Edilio reached her. He didn’t even slow down but leaped past her, swinging his gun into firing position as he ran.

  Someone coming out of the day care. Edilio slowed, raised his weapon, aimed. He would give Drake one chance to surrender. He’d give him to the count of three. And then he would squeeze the trigger.

  Brittney!

  Edilio lowered the gun. Stared in confusion. Had Mary just lost it? Mistaken a dead girl for a dead monster?

  “Is Drake inside there?” Edilio demanded.

  Brittney frowned in confusion.

  “Is Drake in there? Is he in there? Tell me!”

  “The demon is not in there,” Brittney said. “But he is near. I can feel him.”

  Edilio shuddered. Her braces were still flecked with mud and tiny fragments of gravel.

  He pushed past her and stopped at the day care door. He heard two of his soldiers rushing up behind him.

  “Stay back unless I call you,” Edilio said. He shouldered through the doorway and swung the barrel of the gun left and right.

  Nothing. Empty.

  Mary had seen a ghost. Or more likely she was losing it, just like Astrid had said. Too much stress, too many problems, no relief.

  Losing it.

  Edilio let go of a shaky breath. He lowered the weapon. His finger was trembling on the trigger. Carefully he unclenched and rested his finger against the trigger guard.

  Then he saw the plastic sheet, sliced straight down the middle.

  “Mary,” Nerezza said. “Terrible things will happen here, and soon.”

  Mary stared past her. Eyes searching the crowd. She saw Edilio emerge from the day care. He looked like he’d seen a ghost.

  “The demon is coming,” Nerezza said insistently. “All will burn. All will be destroyed. You must take the children to safety!”

  Mary shook her head helplessly. “I only have…I’m almost out of time.”

  Nerezza put a hand on her shoulder. “Mary. You will soon be free. You will be in the loving arms of your mother.”

  “Please,” Mary pleaded.

  “But you have one last great service left to perform. Mary: you must not leave the children behind to the madness that is coming!”

  “What am I supposed to do?”

  “Lead them now to the Prophetess. She waits in her place. Take the children there. To the cliff above the beach.”

  Mary hesitated. “But…I have no food for them there. I won’t have diapers…I won’t…”

  “Everything you need will be there. Trust the Prophetess, Mary. Believe in her.”

  Mary heard a terrible scream. A wailing sound of terror that shifted to agony. From the far side of the plaza, out of view.

  Children were running. Panicked.

  “The FAYZ for humans!” Zil shouted.

  A gun went off. Mary could see the littles cowering, terrified.

  “Children!” Mary commanded. “Come with me. Follow me!”

  Children who had lost parents and grandparents, who had lost friends and school and church. Who had been abandoned, neglected, starved, and terrorized had learned to trust only one voice: Mother Mary.

  “Come with me, children!”

  The children rushed to her. And Mary, a stumbling shepherd, led them away from the plaza toward the beach.

  Brittney had come to the plaza, drawn there not by the smell of food, or by the crowd, but by a force she didn’t understand.

  Now she saw children running and screaming.

  “Is it the demon?” she asked her angel brother.

  “Yes,” Tanner answered. “You are.”

  Brittney saw children running. Running. From her?

  She saw Edilio, his face a mask of dread, coming out of the day care, coming toward her. He was staring at her, eyes wide, the whites visible all around.

  She did not understand why he should be afraid of her. She was an angel of the Lord. She had been sent to fight the demon.

  But now she found herself unable to move. Unable to will her limbs to walk where she wanted, unable to look where she wanted to look. It was so like being dead, she thought, memories of cold earth in her ears and mouth.

  Edilio took aim at her.

  No, she wanted to say. No. But the word would not come.

  “Drake,” Edilio said.

  He was going to shoot her. Would it hurt? Would she die? Again?

  But a mob of fleeing children rushed between them. Edilio raised the gun skyward.

  “Run,” Tanner urged her.

  She ran. But it was hard to run when her arm was growing so long and her consciousness was shriveling as another mind shoved hers aside.

  Astrid saw and heard the panic.

  Saw the littles running with Mary, a panicky gaggle of stumbling, screaming preschoolers, babies in the arms of Mary’s helpers, all racing from the square toward the beach.

  In a flash too many images to process.

  Zil, with a shotgun in his hands, aiming it in the air.

  Edilio just emerging from the day care.

  Nerezza smiling calmly.

  And Brittney, from behind, facing away from Astrid.

  Little Pete playing his game with feverish intensity. Fingers frantic. Like he had never played before.

  And then, Nerezza moving quickly, straight toward Astrid, determined. She had something in her hand, a crowbar.

  Was Nerezza going to attack her?

  Insane!

  Nerezza raised the crowbar and brought it down with sudden, shocking force.

  Little Pete toppled forward onto his game without making a sound.

  Nerezza bent over and yanked Little Pete onto his back.

  Astrid cried, “No!” But Nerezza didn’t seem to hear her. She raised the crowbar again, this time aiming the pointed end at Little Pete.

  Astrid stuck out a hand, too slow, too clumsy. The crowbar came down hard on Astrid’s wrist.

  The pain was shocking. Astrid screamed in pain and fury. But Nerezza had no interest in her, pushed at her with her free hand like she was a minor irritation. And once again aimed the crowbar at Little Pete. But this time Nerezza was off-balance and her blow went wild. The crowbar stabbed the dirt beside Little Pete’s head.

  Astrid was up and shoved Nerezza back a step.

  “Stop it!” Astrid cried.

  But Nerezza wasn’t going to stop. And she wasn’t going to be distracted. She was after Little Pete with fanatic focus.

  Astrid punched her as hard as she could. Her fist connected with Nerezza’s collar bone, not her face. Not enough to hurt the dark girl, but enough to once again throw off her aim.

  Now at last Nerezza turned with icy rage on Astrid.

  “Fine. You want to go first?” Nerezza slashed horizontally with the crowbar and hit Astrid in the stomach. Astrid doubled over but rushed at Nerezza, head down like a bull, blinded by pain.

  She hit Nerezza squarely and knocked her on her back. The crowbar flew from Nerezza’s grip and landed in the trampled grass.

  Nerezza, quick, squirmed to grab it. Astrid punched her in the back of the head. Then again and again, but Nerezza’s hand was nevertheless just inches from the crowbar.

  Astrid hauled herself along Nerezza’s back, her weight slowing the girl down. Astrid did all she could think to do: she bit Nerezza’s ear.

  Nerezza’s howl of pain was the most satisfying thing Astrid had ever heard.

  She clamped her jaw together as hard as she could, yanked her head back and forth, ripping at the ear, tasting blood in her mouth and pounding with her fists at the back of Nerezza’s head.

  Nerezza’
s hand closed on the crowbar, but she couldn’t reach behind herself to get Astrid. She stabbed blindly with the edged end of the tool, grazing Astrid’s forehead, but not dislodging her.

  Astrid wrapped her fingers around Nerezza’s throat and squeezed, now releasing the ear, spitting something squirmy out of her mouth, and put all her strength into squeezing Nerezza’s windpipe.

  She felt the pulse in Nerezza’s neck.

  And she squeezed.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  32 MINUTES

  SANJIT AND VIRTUE carried Bowie on a makeshift stretcher that was nothing but a sheet stretched between them.

  “What are we doing?” Peace asked, twisting her hands together anxiously.

  “We are fleeing,” Sanjit said.

  “What’s that?”

  “Fleeing? Oh, it’s something I’ve done a few times in my life,” Sanjit said. “It’s all about fighting or fleeing. You don’t want to fight, do you?”

  “I’m scared,” Peace moaned.

  “No reason to be scared,” Sanjit said as he struggled to hold the sheet ends in his fingers while walking backward toward the cliff. “Look at Choo. He doesn’t look scared, does he?”

  Actually Virtue looked scared to death. But Sanjit didn’t need Peace losing her head. The scary part was still ahead. Scary had only just begun.

  “No?” Peace said doubtfully.

  “Are we running away?” Pixie asked. She had a plastic bag of Legos in her hand, no idea why, but she seemed determined to hold onto them.

  “Well, we’re hoping to fly away, actually,” Sanjit said brightly.

  “We’re going on the helichopper?” Pixie asked.

  Sanjit exchanged a look with Virtue, who was struggling along much like Sanjit, legs wobbly, feet tripping in the long grass.

  “Why are we running?” Bowie moaned.

  “He’s awake,” Sanjit said.

  “You think?” Virtue snapped between gasps for air.

  “How do you feel, little dude?” Sanjit asked him.

  “My head hurts,” Bowie said. “And I want some water.”

  “Good timing,” Sanjit muttered.

  They had reached the edge of the cliff. The rope was still where he and Virtue had left it the other day. “Okay, Choo, you go down first. I’ll lower the kids down to you one by one.”

  “I’m scared,” Peace said.

  Sanjit lowered Bowie to the ground and flexed his cramped fingers. “Okay, listen up, all of you.”

  They did. Somewhat to Sanjit’s surprise. “Listen: we’re all scared, okay? So no one needs to keep reminding me. You’re scared, I’m scared, we’re all scared.”

  “You’re scared, too?” Peace asked him.

  “Peeless,” Sanjit said. “But sometimes life gets tough and scary, okay? We’ve all been scary places before. But here we are, right? We’re all still here.”

  “I want to stay here,” Pixie said. “I can’t leave my dolls.”

  “We’ll come back for them another time,” Sanjit said.

  He knelt down, wasting precious seconds, waiting for the cold-eyed mutant creep Caine to step out of the house any moment. “Kids. We are a family, right? And we stick together, right?”

  No one seemed too sure of that.

  “And we survive together, right?” Sanjit pressed.

  Long silence. Long stares.

  “That’s right,” Virtue said at last. “Don’t worry, you guys. It’s going to be okay.”

  He almost seemed to believe it.

  Sanjit wished he did.

  Astrid could feel the arteries and veins and tendons in Nerezza’s neck. She could feel the way the blood hammered trying to reach Nerezza’s brain. The way the muscles twisted.

  She felt Nerezza’s windpipe convulsing. Her entire body was jerking now, a wild spasm, organs frantic for oxygen, nerves twitching as Nerezza’s brain sent out frantic panic signals.

  Astrid’s hands squeezed. Her fingers dug in, like she was trying to form fists and Nerezza’s neck was just kind of in the way and if she just squeezed hard enough-

  “No!” Astrid gasped.

  She released. She stood up fast, backed away, stared in horror at Nerezza as the girl choked and sucked air.

  They were almost alone in the plaza. Mary had led the littles away at a run, and it had signaled a full-fledged panic that drew almost everyone in her wake. Everyone was pelting toward the beach. Astrid saw their backs as they ran.

  And then she saw the unmistakable silhouette that sauntered after them.

  He might almost have been anyone, any tall, thin boy. If not for the whip that curled in the air and wrapped caressingly around his body and uncurled to snap and crack.

  Drake laughed.

  Nerezza sucked air. Little Pete stirred.

  Gunfire, a single loud round.

  The sun was setting out over the water. A red sunset.

  Astrid stepped over Nerezza and turned her brother over. He moaned. His eyes fluttered open. His hand was already reaching for the game player.

  Astrid picked it up. It was warm in her hand. A pleasurable sensation tingled her arm.

  Astrid grabbed the front of Little Pete’s shirt in her sore fist.

  “What is the game, Petey?” she demanded.

  She could see his eyes glaze over. The veil that separated Little Pete from the world around him.

  “No!” she screamed, her face inches from his. “Not this time. Tell me. Tell me!”

  Little Pete looked at her and met her gaze. Aware. But still, he said nothing.

  A waste of time demanding Little Pete use words. Words were her tool, not his. Astrid lowered her voice. “Petey. Show me. I know you have the power. Show me.”

  Little Pete’s eyes widened. Something clicked beneath that blank stare.

  The ground split open beneath Astrid. The dirt was a mouth. She cried out and fell, spinning downward, down a tunnel in mud lit by neon screams.

  Diana opened one eye. What she saw before her was a wooden surface. A spilled Cheerio was the closest recognizable object.

  Where was she?

  She closed her eye and asked herself that question again. Where am I?

  She’d had a horrible dream, full of gruesome detail. Violence. Starvation. Despair. In the dream she had done things she would never, ever do in real life.

  She opened her eyes again and tried to stand up. She fell backward a very, very long way. She barely felt the floor when it smacked her in the back of the head.

  Now she saw legs. Table legs, chair legs, the legs of a boy wearing frayed jeans and beyond the splayed, scarred legs of a girl in shorts. Both sets of legs were tied with rope.

  Someone was snoring. Someone too close. A snore from an unseen source.

  Bug. The name came to her. And with it the shock of knowing that she was not dreaming, had not dreamed.

  Better to close her eyes and pretend.

  But the girl, Penny, her legs strained against their ropes. Diana heard a moan.

  With clumsy hands Diana grabbed the chair and pulled herself up into a seated position. The urge to lie back down was almost irresistible. But hand over hand, and then numb foot over numb foot, Diana pulled herself back up and into the chair.

  Caine slept. Bug snored loudly and invisibly on the floor.

  Penny blinked at her. “They drugged us,” Penny said. She yawned.

  “Yeah,” Diana agreed.

  “They tied us up,” Penny said. “How did you get free?”

  Diana rubbed her wrists, as though she had been tied up. Why hadn’t Sanjit tied her? “Loose knots.”

  Penny’s head wobbled a little. Her eyes wouldn’t quite focus. “Caine’s going to kill ’em.”

  Diana nodded. She tried to think. Not easy in a brain still slowed by whatever drug Sanjit had slipped her.

  “They could have killed us,” Diana said.

  Penny nodded. “Too scared,” she said.

  Or maybe they just aren’t killers, Diana thought. Maybe t
hey just weren’t the kind of people who could take advantage of a sleeping foe. Maybe Sanjit wasn’t the kind of kid who could cut a sleeping person’s throat.

  “They’re running,” Diana said. “They’re trying to get away.”

  “Never hide on this island,” Penny said. “Not for long. We’ll find them. Cut me loose.”

  Penny was right, of course. Even drugged Diana knew it was true. Caine would find them eventually. And he was the kind who killed.

  Her true love. He was not the beast Drake was, but something worse. Caine wouldn’t kill them in some psychotic rage. He’d kill them in cold blood. Diana staggered out of the room, moving like a drunk, slamming into a doorway, absorbing the pain, moving on. Windows. Big windows in a room so huge it made the furniture arranged here and there in separate pods look like dollhouse toys.

  “Hey, untie me!” Penny demanded.

  She spotted Sanjit immediately. He was in profile against a red sky, standing at the edge of the cliff. There was a little girl with him. Not Virtue, some girl Diana had not seen before.

  That’s what Sanjit had been hiding: there were other kids here on the island.

  Sanjit looped a rope around the girl in a sort of web. He hugged her. Leaned down to speak to her face-to-face.

  No, not the killing kind, Sanjit.

  Then he began to lower the clearly terrified girl out of sight. Over the cliff.

  There was a shout from the other room. Bug. He yelled, “Ah ah ah ah! Get them off me!”

  Bug was awake. Penny had used her power to give Bug a nice shot of fear adrenalin.

  As Diana watched, Sanjit himself climbed over the side. He faced the house as he did so. Did he see Diana standing there, watching?

  Diana heard Penny coming into the room, at least as wobbly as Diana herself.

  “You stupid witch,” Penny snarled. “Why didn’t you untie me?”

  “Bug seems to have taken care of that,” Diana answered.

  She had to cut Penny off before she saw what was happening. Before she saw Sanjit.

  Diana picked up a vase from a side table. Very pretty crystal. Heavy.

  “This is nice,” Diana said to Penny.

  Penny looked at her like she was crazy. Then Penny’s eyes focused beyond Diana. Out of the window.

  “Hey!” Penny said. “They’re trying-”