would be calm and reasonable. She would shelter him, for a
while at least.
The scene, however, was anything but calm or reasonable.
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7
Astrid was wearing a nightgown. Her blond hair was untethered and wild. She stood at the top of the porch stairs and stabbed an angry finger at Zil.
Hunter was behind Astrid. Not exactly cowering, but not
getting out in front of her, either.
Zil and his friends, who—Edilio noted with a sinking
heart—were all normals, were angry. Or most were angry,
some were just goofing around, glad of an excuse to get out
and run around town in the middle of the night.
Most had some kind of weapon or other, baseball bats, tire
irons. One, Edilio noted grimly, carried a shotgun. The kid
with the shotgun, Hank, had been a quiet kid back in the old
days. He didn’t look quiet now.
Edilio pulled his Jeep up to the curb. He hadn’t had time to
round up any of his own people, he was alone. All eyes registered Edilio’s arrival, but no one stopped yelling.
“He’s a murdering chud,” Zil was yelling.
“What do you want to do? Lynch him?” Astrid demanded.
That stopped the flow for a second as kids tried to figure
out what “lynch” meant. But Zil quickly recovered.
“I saw him do it. He used his powers to kill Harry.”
“I was trying to stop you from smashing my head in!”
Hunter shouted.
“You’re a lying mutant freak!”
“They think they can do anything they want,” another
voice shouted.
Astrid said, as calmly as she could while still pitching her
voice to be heard, “We are not going down that path, people,
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dividing up between freaks and normals.”
“They already did it!” Zil cried. “It’s the freaks acting all
special and like their farts don’t stink.”
That earned a laugh.
“And now they’re starting to kill us,” Zil cried.
Angry cheers.
Edilio squared his shoulders and stepped into the crowd.
He went first to Hank, the kid with the shotgun. He tapped
him on the shoulder and said, “Give me that thing.”
“No way,” Hank said. But he didn’t seem too certain.
“You want to have that thing fire by accident and blow
someone’s face off?” Edilio held his hand out. “Give it to me,
man.”
Zil rounded on Edilio. “You going to make Hunter give up
his weapon? Huh? He’s got powers, man, and that’s okay, but
the normals can’t have any weapon? How are we supposed to
defend ourselves from the freaks?”
“Man, give it a rest, huh?” Edilio said. He was doing his
best to sound more weary than angry or scared. Things were
already bad enough. “Zil, you want to be responsible if that
gauge goes off and kills Astrid? You want to maybe give that
some thought?”
Zil blinked. But he said, “Dude, I’m not scared of Sam.”
“Sam won’t be your problem, I will be,” Edilio snapped,
losing patience. “Anything happens to her, I’ll take you down
before Sam ever gets the chance.”
Zil snorted derisively. “Ah, good little boy, Edilio, kissing
up to the chuds. I got news for you, dilly dilly, you’re a lowly
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normal, just like me and the rest of us.”
“I’m going to let that go,” Edilio said evenly, striving to
regain his cool, trying to sound calm and in control, even
though he could hardly take his eyes off the twin barrels of
the shotgun. “But now I’m taking that shotgun.”
“No way!” Hank cried, and the next thing was an explosion so loud, Edilio thought a bomb had gone off. The muzzle flash blinded him, like camera flash going off in his face.
Someone yelled in pain.
Edilio staggered back, squeezed his eyes shut, trying to
adjust. When he opened them again the shotgun was on the
ground and the boy who’d accidentally fired it was holding
his bruised hand, obviously shocked.
Zil bent to grab the gun. Edilio took two steps forward and
kicked Zil in the face. As Zil fell back Edilio made a grab for
the shotgun. He never saw the blow that turned his knees to
water and filled his head with stars.
He fell like a sack of bricks, but even as he fell he lurched
forward to cover the shotgun.
Astrid screamed and launched herself down the stairs to
protect Edilio.
Antoine, the one who had hit Edilio, was raising his bat to
hit Edilio again, but on the back swing he caught Astrid in
the face.
Antoine cursed, suddenly fearful. Zil yelled, “No, no, no!”
There was a sudden rush of running feet. Down the walkway, into the street, echoing down the block.
Edilio struggled to stand. It wasn’t easy. His legs did not
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want to stay where he put them.
Astrid had a hand over one eye but was steadying Edilio
with the other.
“You okay?” Astrid asked. “Did he shoot you?”
“I don’t think so.” Edilio patted himself down, searching
for but not finding any wounds except for a growing knot on
the crown of his head.
His vision cleared enough to notice the red welt where
the bat had caught Astrid in the eye. “You’re going to have a
shiner.”
“I’m okay,” Astrid said, shaky but strong.
Zil’s mob was gone. Disappeared. It was just the three of
them left, Edilio, Astrid, and Hunter.
Edilio picked up the shotgun and cradled it carefully. “I
guess that could have been worse. No one got shot.”
Astrid said, “Hunter, go inside and get some ice for Edilio’s
head.”
“Yeah. No problem,” Hunter said. He hurried away.
With Hunter out of hearing Astrid said, “What are you
going to do?”
“Sam said bring Hunter in.”
“Arrest him?” Astrid asked.
“Yeah, because all of a sudden I’m like the sheriff, too,”
Edilio said bitterly, touching the lump on his head. “I must
have forgot the day where I signed up for that.”
“Did Hunter really kill Harry?”
Edilio nodded, a movement which sent bright shards of
pain stabbing into his brain.
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1
“Yeah. Killed him. Maybe it was an accident like Hunter
says, but either way I better take him and keep him in Town
Hall.”
Astrid nodded. “Yeah. I’ll talk to him. Make him see it’s
the only way.”
The two of them went inside. Hunter was not in the kitchen
making ice packs. The sliding glass door to the backyard was
open.
Brittney Donegal recoiled from the door when the banging
started. Mickey Finch and Mike Farmer were already across
the room, back by the plant manager’s office. They were waiting for Brittney to give them some guidance because neither of them had a clue.
Brittney was twelve years o
ld, overweight, with a pimply
face adorned by overbearing black horn-rim glasses. She wore
sweat pants pulled up too high, and a pink frilly blouse that
was at least one size too small. Her indifferent brown hair was
yanked to either side in pigtails.
She had braces on her teeth—braces that had not been
adjusted in three months. Braces that were accomplishing nothing now, but that she could not figure out how to remove.
Brittney had kind of had a crush on Mike Farmer, but he
wasn’t exactly impressing her.
“We gotta get out of here, Britt,” Mike whined.
“Edilio said anything ever happens, we’re supposed to lock
this door and sit tight,” Brittney said.
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“They got guns,” Mike cried.
Another crashing impact. They all jumped. The door did
not budge.
“So do we,” Brittney said.
“Josh is probably already heading back to town, safe, I bet,”
Mickey said. “Mike’s right, we have to get away.”
Brittney wanted nothing more than to run away. But she
figured she was a soldier. That’s what Edilio had said. Their
job was to protect the power plant.
“I know we’re all just kids,” Edilio used to say. “But we may
need kids to step up, someday, be more than just kids.”
Brittney had been in the square the day of the big battle.
It was Edilio who had killed the coyote that was all over her,
snapping at her throat, then seizing her leg in a jaw like a bear
trap.
She had no scars from the coyote bite on her leg. The
Healer had cured all that. And she had no scar from the bullet that had burned a crease across her upper arm. The Healer had taken all the wounds away. But Brittney’s little brother,
Tanner, was one of the kids buried in the plaza.
Edilio had dug his grave with the backhoe.
Brittney had no romantic feelings for Edilio, but what she
had went a lot deeper. She would rather burn for eternity in
the hottest fires of Hell than let Edilio down.
Brittney had no scars, but she did still have nightmares,
and sometimes not when she was asleep. Mike had been there
that day, too, hurt worse than her. But it had left Mike scared
and timid, while it had left Brittney mad and determined.
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“Anyone comes through that door, I’m shooting them,”
Brittney said in a loud voice, loud enough that she hoped to
be heard by whoever was on the other side.
“Not me, I’m getting out of here,” Mickey said. He turned
and ran.
“You want to run, too?” Brittney challenged Mike.
“Lana’s not exactly here right now,” Mike said. “What if
they shoot me? I’m just a kid, you know.”
Brittney tightened her grip on her machine gun. It hung
from a strap over her shoulder. She’d long since gotten used
to the weight of it. She had test-fired it four times, following Edilio’s training program. The first time she’d dropped it and burst into tears and Edilio had asked her if she wanted
to quit.
But then Tanner had made his presence known, a soft
voice that spoke to her when she was scared and told her not
to worry, that he was in Heaven with Jesus and the angels.
And he was so happy, not hurt or afraid or lonely anymore.
The next time she’d held on as the gun kicked in her hands.
After that she’d more or less hit what she aimed at.
“If that’s Caine out there, I’m going to get him,” Brittney
said.
“I hate him,” she said. “I mean, I hate what he did. Hate the
sin, not the sinner. And I’m going to shoot him so he won’t
hurt anyone else.”
The banging had stopped. Now something different was
happening. The door seemed to be bulging inward. It creaked
and groaned. There was a loud snap.
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It was going to give way.
“Run away, Mike,” Brittney said. He was weak. Well, kids
were, sometimes. She had to forgive that. “But leave your pistol.”
“Where do you want me to put it?”
Brittney stared at the door. It was bulging, straining. Something or someone very, very strong was pushing against it.
“On the floor. Underneath the last console. Back where no
one can see it.”
“You should come,” Mike pleaded.
Brittney’s finger curled around the trigger. “No. I don’t
think I’m going to do that.”
She heard his footsteps retreating down the hallway. She
expected the door to give way in a few seconds. And then she
figured she would be in Heaven with her little brother.
“Lord? Please help me to be brave,” Brittney said. “In Jesus’
name. Amen.”
“It’s okay if I die, Tanner,” she said, in a different sort of
prayer, one she knew her dead brother could hear. “As long as
Caine dies first.”
TWENTY
18 HOURS, 29 MINUTES
B R I A N N A H A D N O T found Sam on the road to the power
plant as she raced back to town. He was not on any of the
roads. The only vehicle she had seen had Quinn, Albert,
Cookie, and Lana out for a ride in a giant pickup truck. She’d
thought about stopping them, telling them to go to the power
plant, but none of the four was much of a fighter. Quinn and
Cookie were both supposed to be soldiers, but the person she
needed to find was Sam, not his useless old surfing buddy.
Sam wasn’t at the gas station. He wasn’t at town hall or in
the plaza. He wasn’t anywhere she looked.
And Brianna was burning out fast. The speed was exhausting. Not as tiring as it should have been, probably, given that she had just run something like fifteen miles or so, dodging back and forth, up and down streets and alleyways. But exhausting. And the hunger was like a lion inside her, tearing
at her insides.
Her sneakers were in tatters. Again. They didn’t build
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Nikes for going as fast as a race car.
Then she heard a loud bang. It was hard to guess where it
had come from. But then suddenly there were kids running.
Slow. Very slow. But as fast as they could run, poor things.
“What’s going on?” she demanded, screeching to a stop.
No one answered. If anything, they seemed scared of her.
It was clear, though, that they were running away from,
and not toward something. So she zipped back up the street
and in less time than it would have taken a normal heart to
beat twice she was standing in Astrid’s open doorway.
“Hey. Anybody home?”
Astrid came out, followed by Edilio. It was obvious that
neither was having a good night. Astrid had a red welt on the
side of her face next to her eye. Edilio was rubbing his head
gingerly and holding a massive shotgun.
“Where is Sam?” Brianna demanded. “What happened to
you guys?”
“You missed the fun,” Edilio said sourly.
“No. No, I didn’t. You did!” Brianna yelled. “Caine is
attacking the power pl
ant.”
“What?”
“He’s there. He and Drake and some other guys.”
“What about our kids up there?” Edilio demanded.
“I didn’t see any of them. Look, Caine threw a car through
the front gate. He’s real serious about this.”
“You know where Hunter lives?” Edilio asked.
Brianna nodded. But too fast to be seen. So she said,
“Yeah.”
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7
“Go there. Sam was there last I saw him. Tell him I’m
getting my guys. It’ll take me half an hour to get everyone
assembled again. Tell Sam I’ll meet him at the highway.”
“Your shoes,” Astrid said, pointing down at Brianna’s feet.
“What size do you wear?”
“Six.”
“I’ll get you a pair from my closet.” But before Astrid could
move, Brianna was up the stairs and back, sitting on the porch
and tying on a pair of New Balance.
“Thanks,” she said to s startled Astrid.
“Don’t forget to—,” Astrid said, but between “don’t” and
“forget” Brianna had arrived at Hunter’s house.
Dekka was just coming down the steps looking like a thundercloud. The girl barely flinched when Brianna appeared suddenly before her.
“Hi, Breeze,” Dekka said. She almost smiled.
“Sam in there?”
“Yep.”
Brianna appeared suddenly before Sam, who took it less
calmly than Dekka had.
“Sam. Caine. He’s at the plant. I already found Edilio, he’s
getting his guys together. Give me a gun, I’ll go keep Caine
busy.”
Sam cursed loudly. It took a while before he was ready
to stop. Then, “I knew it! I knew it, and I let myself get distracted.”
“Sam. Give me a gun.”
“What? No, Breeze, I need you. And not dead.”
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“I can get back there in, like, two minutes,” Brianna
pleaded.
Sam put a hand on her shoulder. “Breeze? You have a job.
You’re the messenger. Right? We have other people for fighting. Go help Edilio get the troops together. Then go see if you can find Lana. I don’t know where she is and we’re going to
need her.”
“She’s driving around in a truck with Quinn and Albert,”
Brianna reported.
“What?”
“They’re in a truck, heading out on the highway.”
Sam threw up his hands. “Maybe they heard about Caine,
somehow. Maybe they’re on the way there.”
“Yeah, I don’t think so. Albert wouldn’t be with them.
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