FOR ASTRID IT was another night apart from Sam. How quickly his presence had become necessary to her. Sam in her bed: an addiction that had swiftly taken hold. Fifteen years of sleeping alone now seemed like it had involved some other person entirely. Hadn’t she always had him beside her? Hadn’t she always awakened to his touch?
Astrid was trying to think. And not about Sam. But she was in the cabin she shared with Sam, and everything about the place reminded her of him.
She was also not trying to think about the fact that Drake’s head was in a cooler twenty feet below her at the bottom of the lake.
Heavy tread on the dock, followed by someone large and very heavy stepping onto the boat. Astrid snatched up her shotgun and headed out. One of Edilio’s guards should have challenged the intruder. She heard the sound of someone peeing—that would be the guard.
With shotgun leveled Astrid went the length of the passageway, then carefully climbed the steps out onto the deck. She found her sights aiming at Dahra Baidoo, improbably in the arms of Orc.
“Don’t shoot,” Dahra said through gritted teeth.
“God sent me to save her!” Orc blurted.
“What happened to you?” Astrid asked, setting her gun aside and helping Orc lower Dahra onto the padded bench.
“I was coming to see you, riding my bike,” Dahra said. “Twisted ankle.”
“Your ankle is three times its normal size,” Astrid observed.
“Yes, Astrid, I noticed that,” Dahra said. Sarcasm was not usually in Dahra’s repertoire, but Astrid could hardly blame her.
“What can I do to help you?”
“Get me to Lana as soon as I tell you what I came here to tell you,” Dahra said.
“Maybe I can have you driven down,” Astrid said, wondering if this was enough of a justification for using some of their dwindling gas supply. If so, she’d have to make the trip useful in some other way as well. Maybe she could go to Perdido Beach . . . see if Sam was around . . .
“What is it you have to tell me?” Astrid asked.
“Food,” Dahra said. “First, something to eat.”
“Well, since you’re injured, I can give you a Cup-a-Noodles. I guess you can each have one.”
Heating the water for the noodles—there was a small hibachi on deck and a few dry twigs—took some time, and while the water was heating Dahra relented and told her tale.
“Sam’s mother, Connie Temple, I ran into her at the barrier. She wants to talk to you.”
“To me?” Astrid frowned. Was this about her relationship with Sam?
“She says things are getting very nasty outside. Out in the world. And she’s right, by the way. I saw a sign that said ‘Kill Them All, Let God Sort Them Out.’”
“That is not Christian,” Orc huffed.
“No, it isn’t,” Astrid said dryly.
“I guess Nurse Temple wanted someone to talk to about it. Sam was gone, Edilio is busy, so it was you, Astrid.”
“Third choice?”
Dahra shrugged, but the motion made her wince. “She’ll meet you at the barrier. Probably thought it would be earlier, sorry, slightly delayed.” She was talking through gasps of pain. “Tomorrow maybe, right? You’ll need paper or something. You know, to communicate.”
Astrid thought about it. “Thanks, Dahra. And thank you, Orc.”
“It wasn’t me,” he said solemnly, and pointed one thick finger upward. “Maybe he has a use for me. You know? Like a plan.”
Astrid smiled at him. “You have become one of the good guys, Orc. If there was ever an example of redemption, it’s you.”
She hesitated only a moment out of fear of touching him, but then gave him a hug. How strange he felt. How alien.
Orc seemed too overcome to say anything. Which was nice, Astrid thought as she drew back, but her thoughts moved quickly on to what she and Sam had been calling the endgame. It wasn’t enough to survive a war: you had to plan for the aftermath.
She was pleased Connie Temple was reaching out to her. Getting ready for the aftermath was possibly the most important thing left to do. It was something Astrid could handle very well, she thought.
Gaia was singing. She wasn’t singing well—her voice was thin and reedy and she had no experience of music—but with the earbuds in she was singing.
She was singing “Mainlining Murder” by Lars Frederiksen and the Bastards.
“Great playlist you’ve got there, Mr. Alex,” Diana said.
They were just beyond a low hill, very near the lake. They had a small twig-and-branch fire going, lit easily by Gaia. Diana had suggested it, hoping the light would be seen from the lake. Hoping that Sam was even now planning a surprise attack that would end this.
Gaia was staring into that fire and singing: “Mainlining Murder” followed incongruously by “Girls Just Want to Have Fun.” If she was at all concerned by the proximity of the lake settlement, she showed no sign of it.
“Is that the Miley Cyrus version or the original Cyndi Lauper?” Diana asked Alex. He didn’t seem to know. He was not in a talkative mood; at least, he was not talking to her. He muttered unintelligibly sometimes, and had taken to mumbling, “Melted, man. Melted.” Whatever that meant in crazy town, where Alex had apparently taken up residence.
Diana was hoping he would pass out or fall asleep. She didn’t trust him: he could easily rat her out to curry favor with Gaia.
Diana had seen people break before, just collapse, lose it. But never this quickly. Was he already a mess before he ventured into this particular level of hell? Was he already fragile? Or was it that he was an adult?
She pondered this for a moment. People always said kids were resilient, so obviously adults were less so. She wondered how much differently things would have gone if it had been three-hundred-plus adults trapped in the FAYZ with the gaiaphage and dangerous mutants—human and nonhuman.
But now she was stalling. She had to act before Gaia could. She was convinced Gaia was just waiting to attack until the sky was completely dark, and it was dark.
Enough. Time was up.
Time to die, most likely.
Oh, well. Bad decisions. My secret power: bad decisions.
“I have to go pee,” Diana said through a tense, clenched jaw. She heaved herself up, knees popping, muscles aching, and scabs stretching with the effort.
Gaia didn’t even glance up, and Diana realized her eyes were closed. Somehow she looked less . . . well, evil, with her eyes closed. She could almost be asleep except for the fact that she was back to singing about murder. Or rapping, maybe.
Diana walked away with all the nonchalance she could manage. She was stiff-legged, but she was always stiff now. Nothing new.
Gaia didn’t seem to even notice, and Diana was most afraid Alex would take this as a sign that he, too, could walk away. That would ruin everything. But the man was busy pretending to enjoy Gaia’s singing, obviously in the ridiculous belief that Gaia would like him. And muttering, “Melting, melting.”
Poor one-armed fool, Diana thought. Pray Gaia doesn’t get hungry again. Or bored. Or just wants to see you scream.
They were in an area of low, rolling hills. Boulders jabbed up out of the hard dirt. Desiccated grass edged up to small stands of nearly dead, stunted trees. Diana knew the area: Sinder’s garden was just over the hill. The lake was not a quarter mile away.
As soon as she was out of sight she started to run. The moon—the actual moon, not the simulation they’d seen back in the old days—had just risen, and its light was faint. She stumbled, tripped, but kept running. It hurt each time she fell, but Diana had endured worse, far worse. And she ran now hoping, believing, that Sam and Dekka and Brianna and maybe enough force to fight off Gaia were just over the next hill.
Sam liked her; he’d been kind to her; he could save her. She had to believe that. Absent Caine to play knight in shining armor, Sam could save her.
She heard her own feet on sand. She heard her own gasping breath. She felt the heart pou
nding in her chest. Running brought hope, and hope was a cruel trick, but she ran anyway.
She spotted a human silhouette and ran to it.
“Hey, who’s there?” a young voice cried out.
“It’s Diana,” she said, not yelling, but urgent. “Keep it down!”
“Show me who you are!”
She forced herself to slow—not much point in getting shot by her rescuers—and waited until the boy recognized her. She did not recognize him, but she’d never made a lot of friends at the lake.
“Listen, kid, do you have some way to sound an alarm?”
“What?”
“Don’t ‘what’ me!” she snapped. “Do you have a way to sound an alarm?”
“I’m supposed to fire in the air.”
“No, she’ll hear that. Come on, let’s run! Run!”
Her fear was contagious, and the nameless boy set off after her, his automatic rifle banging against his back. Ahead were the lights of the lake, just a few pitiful candles, a few faintly illuminated trailer windows and boat portholes.
“What’s happening?” the boy asked, breathless behind her.
“The devil’s on her way,” Diana said. She glanced back: still no pursuit. Of course when Gaia came she’d be a whirlwind with Brianna’s speed. Diana wouldn’t even have a warning.
She pelted into the settlement, which was a dozen or so trailers and motor homes, some bedraggled tents, a few boats at the dock, and a few more boats anchored out in the water.
Diana had lived here for a while; she knew her way around. She ran onto the houseboat and yelled, “Sam! Sam!”
Silence.
“Sam’s gone,” the out-of-breath guard said.
“What?”
“He’s gone to Perdido Beach.”
Diana felt like she’d been kicked in the stomach. Without Sam there was zero chance of beating Gaia.
Ah, hope: you tricked me again.
Dekka came running down the dock. “What’s going on?”
“Dekka! Thank God. Gaia is just over the hill. Listen to me: she’s going to kill everyone.”
Dekka stared. Diana thought it was as close as she’d ever come to looking truly frightened. Then to the guard, Dekka said, “Get Jack. Right now!”
“Who else is here?” Diana demanded.
“That can do any damage in a fight? Me and Jack. Breeze may have come back. Breeze! Breeze! If you’re down there, wake up!” Nothing. “She may be asleep down below, but she went out on patrol earlier, I think. Breeze!”
Someone very large was climbing up from below, and Diana was relieved to see the mudslide that was Orc’s head.
“Orc!” Dekka said. “Thank God you’re here! Is Breeze down there?”
Orc shook his head. “But I am because the Lord sent me.”
“Glad to have you however you got here.” Dekka grabbed Diana’s arm. “What powers does she have? What can Gaia do?”
“She says she has everyone’s powers. But if you die, she loses that power. That’s why she didn’t take on Sam and Caine. She’ll kill the moofs last.”
“Why is she . . . Everyone? Never mind. Where is Astrid?”
“She was in the outhouse. Here she comes,” Orc said.
Astrid and Jack were running toward the boat with the guard leading the way. “Gaia may be here any second,” Dekka explained quickly. She repeated what Diana had told her.
“We have to evacuate into the boats,” Astrid said.
“We can fight!” Dekka said. “Me, Jack, Orc, we can take her on!”
“Fine, but the rest have to get on the water. That’s the plan,” Astrid said coolly.
Dekka nodded and ordered the guard to run and ring the alarm bell.
“No!” Diana cried. “Quietly! If she hears anything . . .”
“You’re right.”
Into the boats, out into the water. Once, they had defeated a determined attack by Drake using that simple tactic. The water was their defense.
“Dahra’s downstairs, injured,” Astrid said. “She can’t run. Dekka?”
“The three of us, Jack and Orc and I, need to get between Gaia and the lake. If we head up onto the ridge, top of the bluff there—”
“Agreed,” Astrid said, cutting her off.
“I wish Sam was here,” Diana muttered.
“We all do,” Astrid snapped, “but this is what we’ve got. Dekka, Jack, Orc. That’s a start.”
“No,” Jack said.
“No what?” Dekka asked, honestly confused.
“I’m not fighting. Don’t you know what happened to me the last time? I nearly died!”
“You’ll die for sure if you don’t fight,” Diana said. “Listen to me: This is the gaiaphage. It’s going to kill anything with a human body that might act as a host for Little Pete.”
Astrid’s eyebrow shot up. “Interesting.”
“Really, Mrs. Spock? Not fascinating?” Diana made a strangled noise of frustration. “Does anyone have any food? If I’m going to die, I’d like to eat first.”
“I’m not fighting,” Jack said stubbornly. “Just because I’m strong doesn’t mean I’m a fighter.”
“You’ll fight or die, most likely both,” Diana said. “Do you not get what you’re dealing with here?”
But Jack shook his head. So much for the resilience of youth, Diana thought. He’s as broken as Alex.
“Let’s get the houseboat started up and cast off,” Astrid said. “Dekka? Orc? Good luck. Jack, you can at least help people get to the boats.”
Diana felt Astrid’s fingers wrapped around her bicep and realized she was being pulled away. Everyone else was running to their assigned tasks, but Astrid led Diana to the railing and looked hard into her eyes. “Keep your mouth shut about the powers. And about Petey.”
“What are you grabbing me for? Get off me!”
Astrid released her but leaned in even closer. “That information? That gets Sam killed. It gets Caine killed, too. You understand me?”
Kids were already streaming out of their motor homes and tents, racing to cram onto the boats. Boats moored farther out saw that there was an evacuation under way and fired up engines or dipped oars to come in and pick up their friends.
The evacuation had been practiced many times, thanks to Edilio’s persistence. It was working.
And then, in a blaze of swift-moving light that practically flew over the hills: Gaia.
FOURTEEN
39 HOURS, 40 MINUTES
TWIN BEAMS OF green light, so bright you couldn’t look at them, swept from right to left, from a motor home that burst instantly into flame to a tent near the dock that seemed to simply disappear in the heat.
“Jump!” Astrid yelled, and took her own advice.
Orc saw what was happening, flashed on Dahra, and dived down the steps. Dahra was up, hobbling, and he just had time to wonder how he could turn around with her in his arms in the narrow passageway when the houseboat blew up.
It did not burn; it blew up.
Orc was thrown against a bulkhead, which dissolved before he hit it. Fire was everywhere and, an instant later, water. He sucked in a lungful, gagged, and vomited into the lake.
He windmilled his hands and legs, fending off debris from every direction—shattered plywood, a toilet, blankets and bits of clothing like poltergeists floating and swirling and tangling. The only light was the yellow of the fire that now burned directly above him.
He looked frantically around, searching for Dahra, but nothing. His lungs burning, he kicked his massive legs and only then realized: gravel is much heavier than flesh.
Orc sank toward the lake bottom. Air bubbles rose from the thousands of crevices in his body.
Below him he saw a picnic cooler, bound with chain, and wondered what it was. And whether it mattered. And whether he was truly, finally, going to be comforted by God’s staff.
Dahra never knew what was happening. She heard noises and agitated voices up above. It all sounded important, so she climbed p
ainfully out of the bunk Astrid had let her use. Then she saw Orc coming toward her in a rush.
And then she was torn apart by the explosion.
Diana and Astrid had already hit the water.
When Astrid clawed her way back to air, she saw Diana in the water beside her, facedown, seemingly unconscious. Three quick strokes and Astrid was beside Diana. She twisted her around and tilted her head back to face up toward the sky.
Diana coughed water and opened her dark eyes, reflecting moonlight outshone by sudden green lasers.
Fifty feet away a sailboat at anchor did not explode—there was no fuel on board. It just erupted in a ball of fire that ran from stem to stern and swirled up around the mast. It seemed to burn it to the waterline in seconds.
“Dekka! Jack!” Astrid yelled. “Orc!”
Dekka dropped from the sky, sinking down through a waterspout. She had suspended gravity and risen above the explosion, but the flames had singed her shoes and jeans. There was smoke coming from the soles of her shoes, and she let herself sink down into cooling water before saying, “Give me your hands, both of you!”
“No, find Orc! He can’t possibly swim!”
Another bolt of green light, and another boat and then another burned like torches. The shore was all aflame, tents simply gone, motor homes exploding at the touch of the light. One of the burning motor homes rose into the sky, paused, suspended, then was slammed against a minivan, crushing it, burning it, killing the screaming occupants.
Dekka sucked air and dived under.
A boy named Bix ran screaming, stopped suddenly, and was thrown into the air. The green light found him there, and he burst into flames.
Like skeet shooting. Gaia wasn’t just killing: she was playing.
Edilio’s boyfriend, the Artful Roger, tried to grab some of his pictures before the light reached the boat he called home, but the end was too swift. The killing light was interrupted by a trailer between the boat and Gaia, so only half the boat burned.
Roger recoiled, shouting for Justin, who he had cared for for months. Roger was two feet behind the kill line. Justin was two feet on the other side, and was incinerated as Roger cried out in horror. He tried to yell, but the heat sucked the air from his lungs. He stumbled back with fire spreading toward him, climbed the ladder, fell onto the tilting deck of the sailboat, and rolled into the water, unconscious.
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