the zekes can fly, the pickers would be pretty safe riding in
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the truck.” He grinned at her. “This is why I keep you around,
despite your annoying superior attitude.”
“It’s not a superior attitude,” Astrid teased back. “It’s actual
superiority.”
“So, what’s the crazy suggestion?”
“Negotiate.”
“What?”
“They’re too smart to be worms. They’re predatory and
they shouldn’t be. They’re territorial and they couldn’t possibly be. They move and act as one, at least some of the time, and there’s no way. They were looking at you, but they don’t
have eyes. I have no proof, obviously, but I have a feeling.”
“A feeling?”
“I don’t think they’re zekes. I think they’re Zeke.”
“Talk to the superworm?” Sam said. He shook his head
and looked down at the ground. “No offense, but the SUV
tractor thing is why you’re the smartest person in the FAYZ.
The other part? That’s why even though you’re smart, you’re
not the one in charge.”
Astrid resisted the urge to say something cutting in
response to his condescension. “You need to keep your mind
open, Sam.”
“Negotiate with a killer worm brain? I don’t think so, babe.
I think maybe your brain is overheating. I have to go.”
He tried to kiss her, but she dodged it. “Good night. Let’s
hope Petey doesn’t have any interesting nightmares tonight,
huh? Oh wait, nothing to worry about there, it’s probably just
my overheated brain.”
212 M I C H A E L
G R A N T
•
•
•
Computer Jack clicked through a dizzying number of windows at an amazing speed. The mouse cursor flew across the virtual page, opening, closing, pushing aside.
It wouldn’t work.
It could work. Maybe. But not without more gear. A serious server. A serious router.
He’d found one server with nowhere near the capacity
he wanted. It was old, not exactly state-of-the art, but it was
functional. And there were certainly enough PCs and Macs
in town that could be strung together, and enough for everyone to have his own ’puter, with plenty of spares that could be cannibalized for parts.
But he did not have a serious router. A router was the difference between a true internet and just being able to share a computer between several people.
A large-capacity router. That was the Holy Grail.
Jack could see a day when all of Perdido Beach had WiFi.
Then kids would start blogs, and they’d start databases, and
post pictures, and maybe he would set up some version of
MySpace or Facebook, a social networking site. And maybe a
YouTube, and maybe even a Wiki. WikiFAYZ.
It could be done. But not without more and better gear.
He pushed back from his desk. Which turned out to be a
mistake. The chair, and him in it, went flying, slid, caught on
a dropped sweater, tipped over, and luckily twisted sideways
just before his head would have slammed into a closed door.
He was still getting used to his strength. So far it had been
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of no practical use to him. In fact, it was more dangerous
than helpful.
Jack picked himself up and righted the chair.
There was a knock at the door. At least, maybe it was a
knock. It sounded more like a woodpecker.
“Who is it?”
“The Breeze.”
“What?”
“Brianna.”
Jack opened the door and there she was. She was wearing
a dress. It was blue and short and had thin straps. He blurted
the first thing that popped into his head. “How can you run
in that?”
“What?”
“Um—”
“I can run—”
“I didn’t—”
“No biggie—”
“I need a router,” he said.
That put an end to the confusing cross-talk.
“A what? A router?”
“Yes,” Jack said. “I can’t, uh, you know, make it all work
without a serious router.”
Brianna considered that for a moment, then, “Do I look
stupid in this dress?”
“No. You don’t look stupid.”
“Thanks,” she said with heavy sarcasm. “I’m so glad to
know I don’t look stupid.”
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G R A N T
“Okay,” he said, and felt stupid himself.
“Well, I was just going to the club. I have some batteries.
That’s all.”
“Oh. Good.”
“And?”
Jack shrugged, mystified. “And . . . so . . . have fun?”
Brianna stared at him for a very long five seconds without
looking away. And then she was a blur. Gone.
He closed the door and went back to the computer he was
using to run an analysis of the antique server.
About five minutes later he began to wonder if he had
missed something in his brief conversation with Brianna.
Why had she come by?
Even six months ago Jack never thought about girls. Now
they tended to show up more and more often in his thoughts.
Not to mention some very embarrassing dreams.
In the good old days he might have Googled up an explanation. Not now. His parents had never really talked to him about puberty, about the fact that as his body changed, so did
his thoughts. He knew enough to know things were changing
for him, but he didn’t know whether or not it was something
he could stop.
He needed a router.
Or he needed to find Brianna and . . . and talk to her.
Maybe about the router.
An idea hit him with such force, he felt as if it had stopped
his heart for a second: Had Brianna been asking him to go
with her to the club? Where people danced?
No. That was crazy. She wouldn’t have come to ask him
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to go to a dance. Would she?
No.
Maybe.
The computer screen called to him. It had always been
better than candy to Jack. Better than anything. He longed
desperately to be able to get back online, back to Google. Back
to Gizmodo. Back to . . . to more sites than he could list.
Jack did have a free pass to Albert’s club. He had spent
part of a day helping Albert set up the sound system—easy
work—and had earned a sort of VIP pass. So if Brianna was
there, and she actually did want him to be there, too, well, he
could go.
He made the decision very suddenly and acted on it very
suddenly, in a hurry lest he change his mind. He leaped for
the door and crushed the door handle in overeager fingers.
Now it wouldn’t turn, but it was easy enough to rip the door
open. There was some damage, but nothing major.
The club was loud—the sound system seemed to be working just fine—and crowded with too many kids. Albert was holding a line of them at the door.
“Sorry, folks, but the maximum occupancy is seventy-five,”
Albert said. Then he spo
tted Jack. “Jack, how’s it going?”
“What? Oh, fine.” Jack was confused as to how to proceed.
He didn’t want to wait in line if Brianna wasn’t even inside.
“You look like a man with a question,” Albert prompted.
“Well, I’m kind of looking for Brianna. We had this . . . it’s
a . . . tech thing. You wouldn’t understand.”
“Breeze is already inside.”
One of the kids in the line said, “Of course she is, she’s a
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freak. They always get in.”
A second kid nodded. “Yeah, the freaks don’t wait in lines.
Bet she didn’t have to pay, either.”
Albert said, “Hey, she got here a little before you guys did
and she waited. And she paid.” Then to Jack. “Go ahead in.”
“See?” the first kid crowed. “He’s one, too.”
“Dude, he set up my sound system,” Albert said. “What have
you done for me other than stand here and bust on me?”
Jack, embarrassed, slid past Albert and into the room.
About half the kids were dancing. The rest were camped out
in chairs and sitting on tables talking. It took Jack a while to
adjust to the lighting and the noise.
He searched for Brianna while trying to look casual. He
spotted Quinn, dancing all alone, and Dekka, sitting silent,
brooding in a corner.
Standing near Dekka but not with her was a kid Jack
thought at first seemed familiar. A boy, maybe twelve, no
older, with a shaved head, and a bandage on his nose. Jack
noticed the boy because the boy was staring at him. The
instant Jack made eye contact the boy looked away.
Jack heard a rising chorus of happy, encouraging shouts
and clapping hands. He followed the sound and there was
Brianna. She was dancing alone—no one could possibly have
danced with her—keeping her own accelerated beat ten times
faster than the music.
Her dress sort of floated around her, not quite attached, a
blue cloud. Jack found the effect utterly fascinating. Brianna
wasn’t what people would call beautiful, she was more in
the “cute” category. But there was something about her that
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made her hard to ignore. And not just the fact that she was
the Breeze.
“Go, Breeze,” someone yelled.
But another voice yelled, “Quit showing off, stupid
mutant.”
Brianna stopped dead. Her dress settled back into place.
“Who said that?”
Zil. The same jerk who had picked on Jack over the
phones.
“Me,” Zil said, stepping forward. “And don’t bother trying
to look tough. I’m not scared of you, freak.”
“You should be,” Brianna hissed.
Suddenly there was Dekka, up off her chair, hand extended
between Brianna and Zil. “No,” she said in her deep voice.
“None of that.”
Quinn joined her. “Dekka’s right, we can’t be having fights
and stuff here. Sam will shut this place down.”
“Maybe we should have two different clubs,” a seventh
grader named Antoine said. “You know, one for freaks and
one for normals.”
“Man, what is the matter with you?” Quinn demanded.
“I don’t like her acting like she’s so cool, is all,” Zil said,
stepping beside Antoine.
“You should be on our side, Quinn. Everyone knows you’re
a normal,” another kid, Lance, said. “Well . . . kind of normal.
You’re still Quinn.”
“Knock it off,” Dekka growled.
“I can take care of myself,” Brianna snapped at Dekka. “I
can handle both these little twerps, slap them both down so
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fast, they wouldn’t even see it happening.”
“Be cool,” Dekka said to her. “Why don’t you just have a
good time and not put on a show?”
For a second Brianna looked as if she might challenge
Dekka. But Dekka never flinched, just waited.
Brianna sighed theatrically. “Okay. The Breeze is not into
making trouble. The Breeze is all about a good time.” She
made a sort of curtsy to Dekka, which Dekka accepted with
a nod.
The music rose again and kids went back to dancing or
hanging around.
“Hey, Jack,” Brianna said. “You came.”
“Yeah.”
“So. You think you could beat Dekka?” she asked.
The question startled him. His mouth dropped open.
“Kidding. Just kidding,” Brianna said. “Dekka’s actually
very cool. Not as cool as me, of course.”
“No one is as cool as you,” Jack blurted.
Brianna accepted this as though it were only her natural
due. “You want to dance?”
“I don’t know how,” Jack said.
“Really?”
“Really.”
“I could teach you.”
“I’d be too embarrassed.”
Brianna shrugged. “It’s not like anyone is going to laugh
at you.”
“Yes, they would.”
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Brianna shook her head. At normal speed. “No way.
Everyone is hoping you’ll fix the phones and the internet and
all. Everyone likes you. Well, not exactly likes, but everyone
hopes you’ll do it.”
“I told you I fixed the phones already,” Jack said.
Brianna’s eyes narrowed. “Jack-O, watch what you say
about that. It’s supposed to be a secret, right?” Then she
shifted focus to someone just behind Jack’s shoulder. “What
did you hear?”
Jack twisted to see the shaved-head kid shrugging. “What?
I didn’t hear anything.”
That voice. Jack knew that voice.
“That’s right you didn’t hear anything,” Brianna said
pointedly. “And you better not repeat what you didn’t hear.”
He knew that voice.
He stared at the kid with the voice.
And suddenly, he saw.
“So come dance with me,” Brianna said, tugging at Jack’s
arm.
He pulled away. “I uh . . . I have to go,” he said, unable to
tear his gaze away from the shaved-head “boy.”
“No one will laugh at you,” Brianna pleaded.
But Jack just shook off her hand and fled toward the door.
“Okay, fine, forget you,” Brianna yelled. “Jerk. Computer
Jerk.” Then, loud enough for everyone to hear, she said, “I
guess he’s scared of girls.”
SEVENTEEN
22 HOURS
D I A N A F O L L O W E D J A C K from the McClub. It was a
relief to get away from Brianna and Dekka. Both girls knew
Diana well. Neither had any reason to like her.
Fortunately, Dekka had eyes only for Brianna, and Brianna
was focused on Jack. There had been a terrifying moment
when Brianna had spoken directly to Diana, but she’d quickly
looked down at the ground and Brianna had not recognized
her.
Jack was moving, ignoring Albert’s polite “Good night,”
walking quickly away from
the club. Not quite running but
looking as if he wanted to.
She caught up with him. “Jack.”
He stopped. He looked around, fearful that someone might
overhear. “Diana?” he whispered.
“Mmmm. Yep. Like the new hairdo?” She rubbed her hand
over her brush cut.
For a boy with the strength of ten grown men, he looked
awfully nervous.
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“What are you doing here?”
“I need you, Jack.”
“You? You need me?”
She tilted her head to the side and sized him up. “So, you
like Brianna, huh? And here I thought I was the girl of your
dreams.”
Flesh tones were all blue in the harsh streetlight, but Diana
was sure he was blushing.
“Come on,” she said. “Let’s walk on the beach. We’ll have
some privacy there.”
He followed her obediently, as she knew he would. He
might have a crush on cute little Brianna, but Diana had
missed none of the covert looks Jack had sent her way over
the months she’d known him. She still had some power over
him. They climbed the low sea wall and labored across the
sand under the night sky. Diana wished she could live down
here, close to the beach. As shabby and damaged as Perdido
Beach was, it was still so much more alive than the Fear Factory, as some kids called Coates Academy.
“What is it you want?” Jack asked. His voice sounded desperate.
“So. You got the cell phones working. I was wondering
what was taking you so long,” Diana said. “You always used
to tell me it would be fairly easy.”
“I can’t talk about it,” he said miserably.
“Sam won’t let you do it, will he? Why?” When he didn’t
answer, she provided her own explanation. “Because we’d be
able to use it, too. Interesting. Poor Caine: always underestimating his brother.”
222 M I C H A E L
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Jack plodded along beside her. The strength in his limbs
drove his feet too deep into the sand.
“Caine knows about you now, of course, about you being a
mutant. With a serious power, no less.”
“He knows?” Jack’s voice rose an octave.
Diana smiled to herself. Still scared. Good. “Yep. He knows
everything. He knows it’s not your fault you ended up over
here. He knows that was me.”
“Did he make you cut off your hair?”
The question caught Diana off-guard. She laughed. “Oh,
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