Hunger_A Gone Novel

by Michael Grant

  Sam and Edilio both grinned. But it didn’t last long.

  “Okay, listen to me, Breeze,” Sam said. “Do not go anywhere but to the gate. That’s not a suggestion, that’s me telling you.”

  “I can do it all in no time,” Brianna argued.

  “Breeze, I need you to hear me on this: do not go into that

  plant.”

  Brianna pouted. “You’re the boss, boss.”

  “Okay,” Sam said. “Take off—” He stopped, realizing he

  was talking to air.

  “Long gone,” Edilio commented. “Girl doesn’t hang

  around.”

  “I can help, too,” Taylor said, a little resentful.

  “You’ll get your chance,” Sam said.

  Dekka was climbing out of the SUV. “Did you send

  Breeze?”

  “Yeah. She should be back any second now,” Edilio said.

  “I’m ready to do this,” Dekka said. “Driving with Orc in

  the back? Boy is farting something terrible.”

  “Cabbage,” Taylor said.

  “Any second now. You know Brianna,” Edilio said.

  The four of them waited. Sam kept his eyes on the road.

  Not that he would see her when she got back.

  “Taking a while,” Taylor said. “I mean, for her.”

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  No one spoke after that. Not as two minutes passed. Then

  three minutes. Five interminable minutes.

  “Oh, my God,” Dekka whispered. “Brianna.” She closed

  her eyes and seemed to be praying.

  “She’d be back by now,” Sam said heavily. “If she was coming.”

  He felt sick to his stomach. Sick down to his bones.

  Lana felt the dread growing on her. She was prepared. She

  knew it was coming.

  “What is this place?” Cookie asked, feeling something,

  too, no doubt, but only the ghosts, not the living, seething

  evil that was now so close.

  “It used to be a mining town,” Lana said. “Gold miners,

  back in, like, the 1800s or whatever.”

  “Like cowboys?”

  “I guess so.”

  They walked through the ghost town, the shabby, tumbledown wreck of a place that had no doubt once been someone’s dream of a future metropolis. The mines had mostly played

  out back in the late 1800s.

  It was still possible to make out where the main street had

  been. And Lana supposed if you really thought about it, you’d

  be able to figure out which of the piles of sticks was the hotel,

  the saloon, the hardware store, or whatever. Here and there a

  tenuous wall or rickety chimney still stood outlined in silver.

  But roofs had mostly collapsed long ago, storefronts had pancaked. Maybe it was an earthquake or something that had H U N G E R

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  tumbled the weakened structures. Maybe it was just time.

  Only one building seemed more or less intact, the rough-

  hewn warehouse where Hermit Jim had hidden his gas-fired

  gold smelter and his pickup truck.

  “That’s where we’re going,” Lana said, nodding in the

  direction of the structure.

  Lana’s gaze was drawn beyond the building to the trail

  that led up the side of the hill. She knew she would have to

  walk up that trail, up that hill to the mine shaft, and dig the

  keys from the mummified miner’s pocket.

  Not her favorite idea. Being even this close to the thing in

  the mine shaft laid shadows on her soul. She could feel it up

  there, the Darkness, and she had the terrible feeling that it

  could sense her closeness as well.

  Did the Darkness know she was coming?

  Did it know why?

  Did she know? For sure?

  “I know why I’m here,” Lana said. “I know.”

  “Of course,” Cookie said. He seemed to think she was

  rebuking him.

  Patrick was quiet, cowed. He remembered, too.

  They were in the warehouse. Lana checked the propane

  gas tank. There was a gauge that showed it half full. That

  should be enough.

  She knelt and checked the support for the tank. It rested on

  a sort of steel frame, rusted, but not, thankfully, bolted down

  to the ground or anything. The cradle rested on dirt. Good.

  “What we have to do, Cookie, is get this tank into that

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  truck. In a little while I’m going to get the keys. We’ll back

  the truck up to the tank. But first, let’s see how it all works,

  huh?”

  “You got it, Healer.”

  She pressed her leg against the bottom edge of the tank,

  finding it came to the top of her thigh. She walked to the

  pickup truck and compared the height of the tailgate.

  Good. Good. They were very close to being the same

  height. The tank was maybe two inches lower, which meant

  it would have to be lifted. Lifted and shoved. But there would

  be a system, had to be, because Hermit Jim would have had to

  carry the tank in his truck to get refills.

  “Cookie. Look around for a toolbox.”

  First things first. She made sure the nozzle was off.

  Then she rummaged in the toolbox Cookie had retrieved

  until she found a wrench that fit the pipe fitting. The coupling that attached the hose to the tank was frozen up.

  “Let me give it a try,” Cookie suggested.

  Cookie was at least twice Lana’s weight. The coupling

  gave way.

  Lana pointed to the rafters. A heavy chain hung down

  from a series of pulleys. There was a hook on the end of the

  chain, and an eyebolt on the gas tank’s frame.

  “Jim would have had to refill the tank from time to time.

  That’s how he got the tank into his truck.”

  Cookie hauled the hook down. The chain clanked and

  came easily, rolling through the well-oiled pulley.

  Cookie hoisted himself heavily up onto the framework

  and attached the hook to the eyebolt.

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  7

  “Okay. Good,” Lana said. “Now I’m going up to get the key.”

  Something in her tone must have worried Cookie. “Well,

  um, Healer, we should go with you. Me and Patrick. It’s not

  safe out there.”

  “I know,” Lana said. “But if something goes wrong, I want

  to know I have someone I trust who can take care of Patrick.”

  That was the wrong thing to say if her goal was to soothe

  Cookie. His eyes were wide, his chin trembling.

  “What’s going to go wrong?”

  “Probably nothing.”

  “Okay, I have to go with you,” Cookie said.

  Lana laid her hand on his big forearm. “Cookie, you have

  to trust me on this.”

  “At least tell me what the problem is,” he pleaded.

  Lana hesitated. A big part of her wanted Cookie and Patrick, too, along for the walk to the mine entrance. But she was worried about Patrick. And even more, she was worried

  about what might happen to Cookie.

  In the old days Cookie had been a big, dumb bully, a sort

  of second-tier Orc. He was still not exactly a genius. But his

  heart had been transformed by days of suffering, and whatever meanness had once been in him was gone. There was now in Cookie a sort of purity, he seemed so innocent to

  Lana. An encounter with the Darkness might e
nd all that.

  The creature in the mine had left its stain on her soul, and

  she didn’t want that same thing to happen to her trusting and

  loyal protector.

  Lana retrieved her bag. From it she drew a letter, neatly

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  sealed in a white business envelope. She handed it to Cookie.

  “Look, if something does happen, you take this to Sam or

  Astrid. Okay?”

  “Healer . . .” He was reluctant to take it.

  “Cookie. Take.” She placed it in his hand and closed his

  fingers around it. “Good. Now, listen, I need you to do something else while I’m gone.”

  “What?”

  She forced a smile. “I’m so hungry, I could eat Patrick.

  Look around this dump and see if you can find something to

  eat. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”

  She turned toward the door and plunged out into the night

  before he could argue any further.

  Lana slipped her hand into her bag, wrapped her fingers

  around the cold plastic grip of the pistol. She pulled it out and

  let it hang by her side.

  She was going to get the key from the dead miner. If Pack

  Leader showed up to stop her, she would shoot him.

  And if . . . and if she could not bring herself to come back

  out of that cave, if she found herself instead walking deeper

  into it, deeper, toward the Darkness, unable to resist, well . . .

  Taylor was not Brianna. Breeze had an image of herself as a

  superhero. Taylor knew she was just a girl. Like any other girl

  except that she had the strange ability to think of a place and

  appear there instantaneously.

  And now Brianna was very late getting back. The

  Breeze was never late. Brianna didn’t know how to be late.

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  Something had happened to her.

  So it was Taylor’s turn. She felt it, knew it. But Sam didn’t

  ask her. He stood there staring down the road, like he was

  willing Brianna to appear.

  Dekka was more upset than Taylor had ever seen her.

  Dekka was normally a rock, but the rock had some cracks in

  it now.

  Edilio kept a poker face. Eyes straight ahead, waiting for

  orders. Patient.

  No one wanted to pressure Sam. But everyone knew that

  with each passing minute, it was becoming harder to act.

  It was up to Taylor. Sam didn’t want to send her. So it was

  up to her.

  She would do anything for Sam. Anything. She supposed

  she was kind of in love with him, even though he was older

  than her and was totally into Astrid.

  Sam had saved Taylor’s life. He had saved her sanity.

  Caine had decreed that uncooperative freaks at Coates

  be kept under control. He had figured out that most powers

  seemed to focus through a kid’s hands, and with Drake’s help

  he had moved quickly and decisively.

  It was called plastering. It involved encasing a kid’s hands

  in a block of cement. The blocks weighed forty pounds. The

  sheer weight rendered kids helpless. At first Caine’s flunkies

  had fed them in dishes on the ground, like dogs. Taylor and

  the others, including Brianna and Dekka, had lapped up

  bowls of cereal and milk like animals.

  Then trouble had broken out between the kids left in

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  charge at Coates while Caine went down to grab control in

  Perdido Beach.

  The feedings had grown less frequent. And then they

  had stopped altogether. Taylor had eaten weeds poking up

  through gravel.

  Sam was the reason she wasn’t dead.

  She owed him. Everything.

  Even, she realized with a sinking in the pit of her stomach,

  the life he had given back to her.

  “I’ll be right back,” she said.

  Before Sam or anyone else could speak, she was gone. Just

  down to the end of the road so she could see the gate, not far,

  not as far as she was capable of teleporting.

  One second she was with Sam and Edilio and Dekka. A

  millisecond later she was alone in the dark, her friends just

  out of sight behind her.

  It was like changing a TV channel. Only she was inside

  the TV.

  Taylor took a shaky breath. The gate was just fifty yards

  away. The power plant beyond was bright and intimidating.

  They would expect her to either bounce into the guardhouse or directly into the plant. She wouldn’t do either.

  A split second later she was on the hillside above the

  guardhouse, tripping because she had materialized on a steep

  slope.

  She caught herself, glanced around quickly, saw no one,

  and bounced to a dark shadowed place behind a parked delivery truck just off to one side of the gate.

  “Ah!”

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  1

  A shout of surprise and Taylor knew she had made a bad

  choice.

  Two kids, two of Drake’s thugs, both armed with rifles

  were right there, right next to her, hiding behind the truck.

  Waiting in ambush.

  Surprise slowed their reactions. She could see it in their

  eyes.

  “Too slow,” Taylor said.

  They shouted, swiveled their guns, and she was gone.

  She appeared three feet from Sam, who was still staring

  down the road.

  “Taylor. What are you doing?” he asked.

  He hadn’t realized she was gone. She laughed in relief.

  “Two guys with guns behind a big truck, just past the gate, to

  the left. I don’t think anyone’s actually in the guardhouse. It’s

  an ambush. If you guys went toward the guardhouse, these

  guys would be able to shoot you in the back. They saw me.”

  Now it was Sam’s turn to be a little stunned.

  “You . . .”

  “Yeah.”

  “You shouldn’t . . .”

  “Had to. And look, I didn’t see Brianna anywhere.”

  “Load up,” Sam ordered. He leaped into the Jeep.

  “Dekka?”

  “On it,” Dekka said, breaking into a run for her own

  vehicle.

  Edilio shouted to his guys to load up as well.

  “Thanks,” Sam said over his shoulder.

  Taylor felt amazingly happy over that one word

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  acknowledgment. “I could . . . ,” she began, not really wanting

  Sam to say yes.

  “No,” he said firmly. “And keep your head down.” To Edilio

  he said, “Straight to the gate, but pull over before you reach it.

  We have to move fast before they can figure out what to do.

  But, remember, there’ll be one more guy out there. The one

  that Taylor didn’t see.”

  “Yep,” Edilio said. “We’re ready for that.”

  Taylor wondered what they were talking about, but it

  wasn’t time for twenty questions.

  The Jeep careened around the curve and hurtled down the

  hill to the gate. Edilio slammed on the brakes. Dekka’s SUV

  barely had time to avoid piling into them. The third vehicle

  followed more slowly.

  Sam jumped out. Dekka leaped while her own ca
r was still

  moving.

  Both pelted down the hill.

  Taylor heard Sam yelling instructions to Dekka. Seconds

  later the truck, tons of steel, floated up off the ground.

  Taylor saw the two thugs gaping up at it.

  Sam raised his hands. “Guys?” he said to the two startled

  thugs. “Way I see it, you have a choice. Drop your guns, run

  away, and live. Or point those guns my way and burn.”

  The two guns clattered on the pavement. The two boys

  stuck their arms in the air.

  “You have anything we can eat?” one asked.

  Dekka dropped the truck back into place.

  It made a huge noise, smashing, bouncing but remaining

  upright.

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  3

  “Have you seen Brianna?” Dekka asked them.

  “No,” the boy said.

  “But if she tried to go after them inside, she’s not coming

  back,” the other said, trying to sound tough, even though his

  hands were in the air.

  “Taylor,” Sam said. “Double-check the guardhouse.”

  Taylor bounced into the guardhouse. She was on a hair

  trigger, ready to bounce back out again. But she saw no one

  inside.

  Outside, through the window, she saw Edilio’s soldiers piling out of the last car, machine guns ready. Howard stepped out of the SUV, scared, cringing. And slowly, like he was an

  old man with arthritis, came Orc. Howard was a tiny shadow

  beside him.

  Taylor bounced to them.

  “No one’s in the guardhouse,” Taylor reported. “And no

  Brianna.”

  Dekka looked at Sam. “If anyone’s hurt that girl, they don’t

  get the chance to walk away.”

  “Dekka, we need to play this smart,” Sam said.

  “No, Sam,” Dekka said with sudden, savage ferocity. “Anyone who hurts that girl dies.”

  Taylor expected Sam to put Dekka in her place. Instead, he

  said, “We all love her, Dekka. We’ll do what’s right.”

  Taylor bounced next to Dekka. She put her hand on

  Dekka’s strong shoulder. The girl was trembling.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  18 HOURS, 1 MINUTE

  S A M W I S H E D C A I N E would come out after him. That

  would be best. That would be the thing. A straight-up fight,

  out in the open. Last time they’d had that fight, Sam had won.

  But Caine wasn’t going to step outside.

  The fight had barely begun and already he had lost Brianna.

  Poor Breeze.

  “What do we do?” Edilio asked. He was at Sam’s side. Edilio