Hunger

by Michael Grant

  The long, long hesitation was all the confirmation Diana needed.

  At last he said, “I don’t know.”

  “I know Sam is a nice guy,” Diana conceded. “Nicer than Caine. But Caine has always had respect for what you can do, Jack. Even back before the FAYZ. You know he always let you do your thing.”

  “Maybe,” Jack muttered.

  “I mean, put it this way: do you imagine, even for a second, that Caine would give you a job as hard as setting up the cell phone system and then just blow you off?”

  His silence was eloquent.

  “We need you, Jack,” Diana said. “We need you back.”

  “I have stuff to do here.”

  She put her hand on his arm and he stopped walking. She came around to stand face-to-face with him. She stood too close. Close enough that she could be sure that the hard drive he had in place of a heart was whirring away.

  She stroked his face with her fingers. Not too overt, not really a promise, just enough to disorient him, poor boy.

  “Come back, Jack,” Diana breathed. “Caine has a job for you. The biggest job you can imagine. The ultimate technological challenge.” She spoke the last three words slowly, pausing dramatically.

  Jack’s eyes widened. “What is it?”

  “Something only you can do,” she said. “Only you.”

  “Can’t you tell me?” he pleaded.

  “It’s huge, Jack. Beyond anything you’ve tried so far. Bigger computers. Far more complex programs. Maybe too much—even for you.”

  He shook his head, but barely. “It’s a trick. You’re just trying to get me to go back so Caine and Drake can teach me a lesson.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself, kid,” Diana said. Time to close the deal. Time to make him believe. “You’re only good for one thing. You’re not Courageous Jack or Fighting Jack or even Lover Jack, although I know you have your sad little fantasies. You’re Computer Jack. Sam won’t let you do what you can do. Caine will. And Jack?”

  “Yes.”

  “So very much technology. Such a huge challenge. And only you can do it.”

  “I…I have to think about…”

  “No, Jack. It’s right now. Right now, or never.”

  She turned and began to walk away. Jack stood there, hesitating. But she knew. She had seen it in his eyes.

  “Hey. Someone’s been in my room,” Zil Sperry said, coming down the stairs at a run.

  Hunter Lefkowitz was splayed out on the couch, one leg up on the back, one leg touching the floor, both arms behind his head. He was watching a DVD of Superbad. He’d watched it at least ten times before. He knew every joke.

  “How can you tell, man? The mess your room is in?” Hunter said, barely paying attention.

  Zil came around and hit the power button on the side of the TV. “Not finding that real funny, freak. Someone was in my room. Someone took something that belonged to me.”

  Hunter shared the house with three other boys, Zil, Charlie, and Harry. They’d been friends back before the FAYZ. They were all seventh graders, and the thing that had united them was their love of the San Francisco Giants. Perdido Beach was definitely Dodgers territory, with maybe a scattering of Angels fans. But Zil and Charlie had moved here at various times from the Bay Area, Harry had come from Lake Tahoe, and Hunter just plain liked the Giants.

  So they had banded together to irritate other kids at school by ostentatiously dressing up in the orange and black. They’d gotten together on summer afternoons to watch games.

  But there were no pro sports in the FAYZ. No TV, either. The four of them no longer had the one shared interest that had bound them together.

  And lately distance had grown between Hunter and the other three for a reason unique to the FAYZ: Hunter was a freak. The other three were normals. At first they’d all talked about it together, like, no big deal, they’d probably all get powers eventually, it was just that Hunter was first.

  But as the weeks had worn on, none of the other three had changed at all, whereas Hunter was rapidly becoming a potentially powerful mutant. That had bothered Zil.

  It had bothered him more with each passing day.

  “Hey man, turn the set back on,” Hunter demanded, pointing angrily at the set.

  “Give it back, Hunter,” Zil demanded.

  “Give what back, jerkwad?”

  Zil hesitated. Then, “You know what.”

  Hunter sighed heavily and sat up. “Okay, so you’re accusing me of stealing something and you won’t even tell me what it is? Man, you must be awfully bored to be starting some beef with me over nothing.”

  “Beef!” Zil cried accusingly.

  Harry came wandering in from the dining room, where he was building a complicated LEGO design, attracted by the sound of raised voices.

  “What’s going on?” Harry asked.

  “Moof boy here stole something from my room,” Zil said.

  “You’re lying,” Hunter shot back. “And don’t be calling me names.”

  “Moof? You’re a mutant freak. Why shouldn’t I call you that?”

  “What’s going on?” Harry asked again, bewildered.

  “Give it back,” Zil said. “Give it back.”

  “You stupid moron, I don’t even know what you’re talking about!” Hunter was on his feet now, red in the face.

  “The jerky,” Zil said. “You called me jerkwad. Then you said ‘beef.’ So stop trying to be clever. You know exactly what it was, because you stole it. I had a piece of beef jerky.”

  “That’s what this is about?” Hunter was incredulous. “First off, why were you holding out on us, man? I thought we shared—”

  “Shut up, you mutant freak of nature,” Zil shouted. “I don’t share anything with you. I might share stuff with humans, but not with chuds.”

  They’d had disagreements before. Even arguments. And this was not the first time Zil had harped on Hunter’s powers. But this was more intense, and now it was starting to seem like a fight they’d managed to sidestep in the past was now unavoidable. The question in Hunter’s mind was, could he win? Zil was bigger and stronger. But if there had to be a fight, then, okay, Hunter would have that fight. He couldn’t back down.

  “Step back, Zil,” Hunter warned.

  “Shut your fat mutant face, you subhuman chud freak,” Zil shot back. He balled his fists, tense, ready.

  “Last chance,” Hunter warned.

  Zil hesitated, but only for a second. He spun and grabbed a long, bronze poker from in front of the fireplace.

  Hunter recoiled in shock. Zil could kill him with the poker. This wasn’t just a fistfight.

  He raised his hands, palms out.

  Harry moved with surprising speed, trying to get between the two of them, trying to calm them down, maybe, or maybe just get out of the way

  Then Harry screamed.

  He clawed at his neck.

  He turned, slowly, and stared in horror at Hunter. Harry’s glasses slid off the end of his nose. His eyes rolled up in his head, and he crumpled to the floor.

  Hunter and Zil both froze. They looked down at Harry.

  “What happened?” Zil asked. “What did you do to him?”

  Hunter shook his head. “Nothing. Nothing, man, I didn’t do anything.”

  Zil dropped to his knees and touched Harry’s neck. “It’s hot. His skin is hot.”

  Hunter backed away. “I didn’t do anything, man.”

  “You freak! You murdering freak! You killed him.”

  “He’s not dead, he’s breathing,” Hunter protested. “I didn’t mean to…He jumped between us—”

  “It was me you were trying to kill,” Zil yelled.

  “You were going to hit me with that poker!”

  “What did you do, man? Did you turn on your magic microwave hands and fry his brains?”

  Hunter was looking at his own palms, appalled, not wanting it to be true, needing for it not to be true. He hadn’t meant…Harry had been his friend…

/>   “Oh, my God, you murdering mutant freak!”

  “I’ll get Lana. She’ll save him,” Hunter said. “He’ll be okay. He’ll be fine.”

  But as he watched, a massive blister was forming on the back of Harry’s neck, right at the base of his skull. The blister was six inches across, as big as an orange, a hairy sac full of liquid.

  Hunter ran from the room. His former friend’s shouted accusations followed him: “Murdering freak! Murdering freak!”

  Sam was asleep in the extra bedroom at Astrid’s house. He heard the sound of someone vomiting in the adjoining bathroom.

  He was beyond weary, but nevertheless he dragged himself up out of bed, grabbed a T-shirt, and tapped at the bathroom door. “Hey,” he said.

  “What?” Mary’s voice, shaky.

  “You okay?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Did I wake you up?”

  “Sounded like you were ralphing. Are you sick?”

  “No. No, I’m fine.”

  He could have sworn he heard a sob in her voice, a catch. “You sure?”

  Her voice steadied. “Yeah, I’m fine, Sam. Go back to sleep. Sorry I woke you.”

  Sam thought that was a good suggestion. He climbed back into bed and arranged the pillows the way he liked them. He stared at the clock. Midnight. He closed his eyes. But he knew that sleep wasn’t coming back anytime soon. Instead there came a rushing freight train loaded with worries and fragments of worries. And his old friend, hunger. It was hard to fall asleep when your stomach was twisting into knots.

  He heard the toilet flush and the bathroom light went off.

  What if Mary was sick? Who could he get to take over running the day care? Astrid had to deal with Little Pete, so it couldn’t be her. He started running down the list of people he could trust to behave in a mature fashion and cope.

  The only kids he could think of to take over for Mary would probably just do the job so they could get into the day care’s oatmeal supplies.

  He’d been dreaming, he realized. Junior Mints. He’d been dreaming about…

  …Junior Mints.

  That was it, the thing nagging at the edge of his consciousness. Junior Mints.

  “I’m going nuts from hunger, that’s what it is, I’m slowly but surely going nuts.”

  He forced his eyes closed, but the nagging in the back of his head was yammering louder now, not letting go, demanding attention.

  Alton and Dalton fighting over whom they belonged to. Who had taken them.

  Did it ever occur to you it might be one of the other kids standing guard?

  No. Heather B and Mike J were at the guardhouse. And Josh was asleep the whole time.

  What do you mean Josh was asleep?

  Junior Mints. The map with the power plant at its center. The memory of the day of the battle.

  Bug, the chameleon.

  Bug.

  The power plant.

  Sam jumped out of bed like he’d been shot from a cannon.

  He pulled on jeans and searched frantically for his shoes under the bed. He slipped them on and ran to Astrid’s room. He didn’t knock, just threw open the door.

  She was asleep, a tangle of blond hair on a pillow.

  “Astrid. Wake up.”

  She didn’t move, so he took her bare shoulder, feeling an illicit thrill despite his frenzy. “Wake up.”

  Blue eyes snapped open. “What? Is it Petey again?”

  He was suddenly extremely aware of the fact that he had never been in her bedroom before. But this was not the time.

  “Bug. He took the Junior Mints.”

  She stared at him. “You woke me up for that?”

  “At the power plant. Alton and Dalton. They were both telling the truth. Neither of them took the candy, or Josh, either. Someone else was there. Someone they didn’t see.”

  “Why would Bug be at the power plant?” Astrid wondered. Then her eyes widened as she understood.

  “Because I’m an idiot, that’s why,” Sam said angrily. “I have to get Edilio. You’re in charge till I get back.”

  “You may be wrong,” Astrid said.

  He was already on his way out. He pounded down the stairs and out into the frosty night air. He found Edilio at the firehouse, where he stayed most nights.

  “Who’s on guard at the plant?” Sam asked Edilio after he’d shaken him out of a sound sleep.

  “Josh, Brittney D, um, Mickey, and Mike Farmer.”

  “Mike’s solid,” Sam said. “The other three?”

  Edilio shrugged. “Man, I work with what I got. Mickey’s the one who was playing around with a gun and shot a hole in the floor of his house, killed the washing machine in the basement. Brittney may be cool. She’s motivated. Josh? I don’t know, man.”

  They piled into the Jeep. It took them an hour of crisscrossing the town before they had rounded up Dekka, Brianna, Taylor, Orc, and a handful of Edilio’s soldiers. They added a sedan and a giant Escalade to the convoy. Orc snoozed in the back of the Escalade.

  They had ten kids in the three vehicles. They paused in front of the town hall. Sam stood on the sidewalk, where he could be heard by everyone.

  “I’m sorry to drag you all out of your warm beds, but I think Caine is going to make a move on the power plant,” he said.

  “Let me run out there and warn them,” Brianna begged.

  “If you run ten miles at high speed you’ll be dead on your feet. Hungry as you are?”

  “Man, the Breeze can do ten miles in, like, a minute.” She snapped her fingers.

  Sam hesitated. It was true. Brianna could get there long before any of them. It was also true she’d be exhausted by it. He’d seen her when she had done those kind of distances. She wasn’t just worn out by it, she’d looked close to death.

  “Go. But stay out of trouble.” The last four words were said to a whoosh of air.

  He was probably overreacting, Sam told himself. Missing Junior Mints was not a very good reason to panic. He was going to look like an idiot.

  But his instincts told him he was right. He was right because if he were Caine, that’s what he would have done.

  He should have seen it. He should have seen it and been prepared. Just like he should have been prepared for the raid on Ralph’s.

  They drove away from the plaza. Past the graveyard Edilio had built, the one with far too many gravestones. Past the burned apartment building, the damaged preschool, the half-destroyed church.

  Sam told himself he’d been running as fast as he could, just keeping up with trivia, and trying to deal with the threat of starvation. It didn’t help. If Caine was after the power plant….

  They drove two blocks more, and suddenly, right in the middle of the dark street, caught in the headlights, was Zil, running and waving his arms like a crazy person.

  “What do I do?” Edilio asked.

  Sam cursed under his breath. “Pull over. Let’s see what it is.”

  Edilio hit the brakes. Zil rushed over, breathless, panting, flushed. He leaned on the window as Sam rolled it down. “It’s Hunter, man. The freak killed Harry.”

  Dekka made a sort of growling noise in her throat that made Zil take a step back. But he wasn’t apologizing. “That’s right, he’s a freak. One of you people. And he used his freak powers to kill Harry. For nothing.”

  “Have you found Lana?” Edilio asked.

  “I don’t know where she is.”

  “Funny how you don’t call the Healer a freak,” Dekka pointed out.

  “Lana’s at Clifftop,” Sam said. “Great. Now I really could use Brianna. Okay, we’re going to have to hope I’m just being paranoid about the power plant. Edilio, drop me at Hunter and Zil’s place. Tell your crew to head back to the plaza, hang around there, wait for us. Then you’ll have to head up to Clifftop and see if you can find Lana. All right?”

  “Yep.”

  “Dekka, why don’t you stay with me to see what this is about.”

  “I’m going to go get some other normals,�
�� Zil said. “Normals gotta know what’s happening.”

  Sam pointed his finger out of the window at him. “You’re going to run around waking people up out of a sound sleep? No. You come with us.”

  “No way, man. You and Dekka? You’re both freaks. Freaks always back each other up.”

  “You’re being an idiot, Zil,” Sam said. “I’m not going to have you running around and stirring up trouble.”

  “What are you going to do? Fry me?” Zil spread his hands in a gesture that was simultaneously defiant and innocent.

  “This is bull,” Sam said. “Get in, Zil. We’re wasting time arguing.”

  “No way, man. No way.” Zil turned and began to walk quickly away.

  “You want me to stop him?” Dekka asked.

  “No,” Sam said.

  “He’s going to make trouble.”

  “Sounds like Hunter already made trouble. Let’s get going, Edilio. Hopefully Breeze gets to the plant and at least wakes them up. The more I think about it, the more I think I overreacted. I don’t think Caine will start a war tonight.”

  “We may have our own war, right here in town,” Edilio said.

  EIGHTEEN

  18 HOURS, 47 MINUTES

  PATRICK FIGURED IT was all a party. His master was up in the middle of the night, and that was fun. Plus, now she was climbing into a pickup truck.

  Quinn was behind the wheel. Albert sat beside him. The backseat would normally have been a little cramped for Lana and Cookie, who was a very big kid, but Quinn had his seat pulled all the way forward so he could reach the pedals. Patrick climbed in and lay across Cookie’s lap.

  “You want to put the dog in the back?” Albert suggested.

  “And have him bark at everything we pass? Wake everyone up?”

  “Okay,” Albert said. He gave the dog a dirty look. Lana didn’t like that about Albert, that he didn’t like dogs, but this wasn’t the time to have that argument.

  At least Albert wasn’t joking about eating Patrick. She’d heard that from more than one person.

  The four of them—five, if you counted Patrick—had met up at a muffler shop on the highway. There was a heavy-duty four-by-four, extended-cab pickup parked there that Albert figured would be just right for the cross-country travel and the gold.