No one spotted them as they emerged up onto the highway. Or as they marched in quick-step past the battered old sign showing gas prices.
Past the first pump before a voice cried out, “Hey!”
They kept moving, breaking now into an exhilarating run.
“Hey! Hey!” the voice cried again.
A boy, Zil didn’t know his name, was yelling and then a second voice was shouting, “What’s happening?”
BLAM!
The sound was deafening. A dagger of yellow fire from the blast.
Hank’s shotgun.
The first boy fell back hard.
Zil almost cried out. Almost yelled “Stop.” Almost said “You don’t need to…”
But it was too late for that. Too late.
The second soldier raised his own gun, but hesitated. Hank did not.
BLAM!
The second soldier turned and ran. He threw his gun down and ran.
More voices yelling in fear and confusion. Gunfire. Here. There. Wild blasting, everyone who could, explosions of light in the dark.
“Cease fire!” Hank yelled.
The firing continued. But it was all coming from Zil’s own side now.
“Knock it off!” Zil shouted.
The explosions stopped.
Zil’s ears rang. From far off a pitiful voice cried. Cried like a baby.
For a long moment no one said or did anything. The boy who lay on his back made no sound. Zil did not take a closer look.
“Okay, follow the plan,” Hank said, as calmly as if all this was just a video game he’d put on pause.
Kids who had been tasked with bringing bottles began to unload them. Lance went to the hand-pump that brought gasoline up from the underground storage. He began to work it and fill glass bottles held by shaking hands.
“I can’t believe it,” someone said.
“We did it!” one exulted.
“Not yet,” Zil growled. “But it’s beginning.”
Hank said, “Remember: Stuff the rags far down into the bottle like I told you. And keep your lighters dry.”
They found a wheelbarrow in the weeds behind the station. It didn’t roll very well-the wheel was lopsided-but it worked to hold the bottles.
The smell of gasoline was thick in Zil’s throat. He was stressing, waiting for the counterattack. Waiting to see Sam striding up, hands blazing.
That would end it all.
But no matter how hard he peered into the black night, Zil did not see the one freak who would stop him.
Little Pete made a grunting sound as he pushed the buttons and worked the trackpad of his handheld.
Sam sat silent, withdrawn. He had said nothing since Taylor had hauled him through the door and woken Astrid from a fretful sleep.
It was stupid, Astrid realized, not talking to Sam. When Taylor had awakened her, she’d imagined somehow, in her sleepy confusion, that Sam had come running back, all forgiven.
But then Taylor had said she’d be back with the rest of the council and Astrid knew something had gone wrong.
Now they were all there. Well, most of them. Word was Dekka was sick with whatever was going around. But Albert was there, and really, Astrid admitted to herself, so long as Albert and Astrid were there, the important members of the council were present.
Unfortunately, Howard had also come. No one wanted to drag John out into the night. He could hear about it all later.
They had enough. Astrid, Albert, Howard, and Sam. Five out of seven. And, Astrid couldn’t help but note, any vote would be more likely to go in her favor.
They were at the table beneath an eerie Sammy Sun.
“Okay, Taylor, since Sam doesn’t exactly seem talkative,” Astrid said, “why are we all here?”
“A kid got murdered tonight,” Taylor said.
A hundred questions popped into Astrid’s head, but she asked the most important one first. “Who was it?”
“Edilio says he thinks it’s Juanito. Or Leonard.”
“He thinks?”
“Kind of hard to tell,” Taylor said, not quite smirking.
“What happened?” Albert asked.
Taylor looked at Sam. Sam said nothing. He stared. First at his own light, hovering in the air. Then at Taylor. He looked pale and almost frail. Like he was suddenly a much, much older person.
“Kid was whipped,” Taylor said. “It looked like what happened to Sam.”
Sam lowered his head and wrapped his hands behind his neck. He seemed to be trying to hold on to his head, pressing it hard like it might explode.
“Drake’s dead,” Albert said. Sounding like a guy who really, really hoped it was true. “He’s dead. He’s been dead.”
“Yeah, well…,” Taylor said.
“Yeah well, what?” Astrid asked, instantly hearing the change in her tone of voice, the evasion.
Taylor shifted uncomfortably. “Look, Edilio told me to bring Sam here and get you guys together. I think Sam is kind of, you know, flashing on stuff that happened.”
“That boy was whipped. Just like I was,” Sam said to the floor. “I know the marks. I…”
“It doesn’t mean it was Drake,” Albert said.
“Drake’s dead,” Astrid said. “Dead people don’t come back. Let’s not be ridiculous.”
Howard made a derisive snort. “Okay. That’s as far as I go with you on this, Sammy boy.” He made a hand-washing gesture.
Astrid slammed her palm on the table, surprising even herself. “Somebody better tell me what all these back-and-forth looks are about.”
“Brittney,” Howard said, spitting the name out like it was poison. “She came back. Sam had her and stuck her with Brianna, and told me not to talk about it.”
“Brittney?” Astrid said, confused.
Howard said, “Yeah. You know, like dead-girl Brittney? Way dead? Dead a long time and buried a long time and suddenly she’s sitting in my house chatting? That Brittney.”
“I’m still not…”
“Well, Astrid,” Howard said, “I guess we just found the limits of your big old genius brain. Point is that someone who was very seriously dead is suddenly not so dead anymore.”
“But…,” Astrid started. “But Drake…”
“As dead as Brittney,” Howard said. “Which might be a slight problem, since Brittney isn’t exactly dead herself.”
Astrid felt sick to her stomach. No. Surely not. Impossible. Insane. Not even here, not even in the FAYZ.
But Howard wasn’t lying. Taylor’s expression confirmed that. And Sam wasn’t jumping up to dispute it, either.
Astrid stood up. She stared hard at Sam. She could feel a throbbing in her head. “You didn’t tell me? This is happening and you didn’t tell the council?”
Sam barely glanced up.
“He didn’t tell you, Astrid,” Howard said, obviously enjoying the moment.
A part of Astrid felt sorry for Sam. She knew he was still a long way from being over the beating he had taken from Drake. One look at him now, head hung, looking small and scared, was proof of that.
But he wasn’t the only one to be terrorized by Drake. Drake had come after her, early on. If she thought about it, she could still almost feel the sting of his slap on her face.
He’d made her…
He’d bullied her into calling Little Pete a retard. He’d terrorized her into betraying the person she loved most in the world.
She had managed to put it out of her mind. Why couldn’t Sam do the same?
Howard laughed. “Sammy didn’t want people using the ‘Z’ word.”
“The what?” Astrid snapped.
“Zombie.” Howard made a booga-booga face and stretched his hands out like a sleepwalker.
“Taylor, get out of here,” Astrid said.
“Hey, I-”
“This is council business now,” Astrid said, putting all the frost she could command into her voice.
Taylor hesitated, looked to Sam for guidance. He didn’t look
up or stir. Taylor took a second to give Astrid a middle-finger salute and then popped out of the room.
“Sam, I know you’re upset over what happened with you and Drake,” Astrid began.
“Upset?” Sam echoed the word with an ironic smirk.
“But that’s no excuse for you keeping secrets from us.”
“Yeah,” Howard said, “Don’t you know only Astrid is allowed to keep secrets?”
“Shut up, Howard,” Astrid snapped.
“Yeah, we get to lie because we’re the smart ones,” Howard said. “Not like all those idiots out there.”
Astrid turned her attention back to Sam. “This is not okay, Sam. The council has the responsibility. Not you alone.”
Sam looked like he could not care less about what she was saying. He looked almost beyond reach, indifferent to what was going on around him.
“Hey,” Astrid said. “We’re talking to you.”
That did it. His jaw clenched. His head snapped up. His eyes blazed. “Don’t push me. That wasn’t you with your skin whipped off and covered in blood. That was me. That was me who went down into that mine shaft to try to fight the gaiaphage.”
Astrid blinked. “No one is minimizing what you’ve done, Sam. You’re a hero. But at the same time-”
Sam was on his feet. “At the same time? At the same time you were here in town. Edilio had a bullet in his chest. Dekka was torn to pieces. I was trying not to scream from the…You and Albert and Howard, you weren’t there, were you?”
“I was busy standing up to Zil, trying to save Hunter’s life,” Astrid yelled.
“But it wasn’t you and your big words, was it? It was Orc who stopped Zil. And he was there because I sent him to rescue you. Me!” He stabbed a finger at his own chest, actually making what looked like painful impact. “Me! Me and Brianna and Dekka and Edilio! And poor Duck.”
Suddenly, there was Taylor again. “Hey! One of Edilio’s soldiers just came staggering in from the gas station. He says someone attacked, took the place over.”
That silenced the argument.
Sam, with exquisite contempt, turned to his girlfriend and said, “You want to go deal with it, Astrid?”
Astrid flushed red.
“No? I didn’t think so. Guess it will be up to me then.”
He left silence in his wake.
“Maybe we better pass some laws real quick so Sam can save our butts legally,” Howard said.
“Howard, go get Orc,” Albert said.
“Now you’re giving me orders, Albert?” Howard shook his head. “I don’t think so. Not you or her,” he said, jerking a thumb at Astrid. “You may not think much of me, you two, but at least I know who saves our butts. And if I got to take orders from someone, it’ll be the someone who just walked out of here.”
TWENTY-ONE
14 HOURS, 44 MINUTES
“FIND EDILIO AND Dekka and Brianna,” Sam told Taylor. “Edilio and Dekka to the gas station. Brianna on the streets. We’re going to deal with Zil.”
For once, Taylor did not argue. She bounced away.
He took a deep breath of cold night air and tried to get his head together. Zil. Had to stop him.
But all he could see was Drake. Drake in the shadows. Drake behind bushes and trees. Drake with his whip hand.
Drake, not Zil.
He squeezed his eyes shut. It would be different this time. Back then he’d had no choice but to let Drake take him. No choice but to stand there and endure…and endure…
He noticed Howard coming up behind him. It surprised him a little, until he realized Howard would see it as an opportunity to use Orc for profit.
“Howard? What kind of shape is Orc in?”
Howard shrugged. “Passed out, dead drunk.”
Sam cursed under his breath. “See if you can get him up.”
He tossed out the orders on automatic. Not needing to think about it. But he still felt like he was in a dream. Not quite focusing.
Drake. Somehow that animal was back. Somehow he was alive.
How was he supposed to fight something that could not be killed? Zil he could handle. But Drake? A Drake who could return from the dead?
I’ll burn him, Sam told himself. I’ll burn him inch by inch. I’ll turn him into a piece of charcoal. I’ll reduce him to ashes.
And scatter the ashes over a mile of sea and land.
Kill him. Destroy him. Destroy the remains of the remains of the remains.
Let him come back from that.
“If I get Orc up, it will cost you,” Howard said. “He’s fought Drake before.”
“I’ll burn him down,” Sam muttered to himself. “I’ll kill him myself.”
Howard seemed to think this was directed at either Orc or him, and scuttled off as quickly as he could without another word.
It wasn’t far to the gas station. Just a few blocks.
Sam walked down the middle of the street. No lights. Silence. His footsteps echoed.
He walked on legs stiff with fear.
He had forgotten to tell Taylor to get Lana. Lana would be needed. Taylor would figure it out, though. Smart girl, Taylor.
He remembered Lana’s healing touch that day as the last effects of the morphine wore off and the pain, like a tidal wave of fire, consumed him. Her touch, and the wave had slowly receded.
He had screamed. He was sure of that.
He had screamed until his throat was raw. And in nightmares since that day.
“Ashes,” Sam said.
Alone on the dark street. Walking toward the thing he feared most in the world.
Astrid was shaking. Every type of emotion. Fear. Fury. Even hate.
And love.
“Albert, I don’t know how long we can keep Sam involved at all,” she said.
“You’re upset,” Albert replied.
“Yes, I’m upset. But that’s not the point. Sam is out of control. If we’re ever going to have a working system we may have to find someone else to play the role of savior.”
Albert sighed. “Astrid, we don’t know what’s out there in the night. And maybe you’re right that Sam is out of control. But me? I’m really glad it’s him out there getting ready to face whatever it is.”
Albert picked up his omnipresent notebook and left.
To a now empty, silent room, Astrid said, “Don’t die, Sam. Don’t die.”
Taylor found Edilio already en route to the gas station. He had just one soldier with him, a girl named Elizabeth. Both were carrying machine pistols, part of the armory they’d found long ago at the power plant.
Elizabeth spun and almost sprayed Taylor when she popped in.
“Whoa!” Taylor yelled.
“Sorry. I thought…We heard gunfire.”
“Gas station. Sam’s on his way, told me to get you going in that direction.”
Edilio nodded. “Yeah, we’re on our way.”
Taylor grabbed him and pulled him aside so Elizabeth wouldn’t overhear. “Sam is fighting with Astrid.”
“Great. That’s just what we need: the two of them at each other.” Edilio ran his hand back over his brush-cut hair. He still kept it short unlike most kids, who had given up on personal grooming. “I haven’t heard anyone shooting in the last few minutes. Probably just some drunk fool got hold of a gun.”
“That’s not what your guy said,” Taylor corrected him, talking fast. “He said the station was being attacked.”
“Caine?” Edilio mused.
“Or Drake. Or Caine and Drake.”
“Drake’s dead,” Edilio said flatly. Then he made the sign of the cross over his chest. “At least I sure hope so. Where is Brianna? Where’s Dekka?”
“Next on my list,” Taylor said and bounced to the house where Dekka was staying. The house was dark but for a Sammy Sun burning grimly in the living room.
“Dekka?” Taylor yelled.
She heard a stirring coming from upstairs. Taylor bounced to the bedroom to find Dekka sitting up and swinging her legs
over the side of the bed.
“Sam sent me. Said you should haul butt to the gas station. Someone’s shooting the place up.”
Dekka coughed. Covered her mouth and coughed again. “Sorry. I guess I have a-” She coughed again, more violently. “I’m okay,” she managed to say.
“Whatever you’ve got, don’t give it to me,” Taylor said, backing away. “Hey, do you know where Brianna is?”
Dekka’s already gloomy expression darkened further. “She’s at her place. With Jack, in case you’re looking for him, too.”
“Jack?” Taylor said, momentarily distracted by the possibility of good gossip. “She’s with Computer Jack?”
“Yeah, Computer Jack. Nerdy kid, glasses, does stupid things like turn off the power plant? That Jack. He’s sick and she’s taking care of him.”
“Okay. Bouncing…Wait. I forgot. You might want to keep an eye out for Drake.”
Dekka’s eyebrows shot up. “Say what?”
“Welcome to the FAYZ,” Taylor said, and changed the channel. Dekka’s dark bedroom became Brianna’s.
Jack had set up a cot in the corner of Brianna’s bedroom, but he wasn’t lying on it. Jack was in a big office chair, feet up on a side table with a blanket wrapped around him. He was snoring. His glasses were on the floor. Brianna was in her bed.
“Wake up!” Taylor yelled.
Jack didn’t stir. But Brianna was up and off of the cot in less time than it took for Taylor’s shout to echo.
Brianna said, “What are you-” and then she started coughing.
It was a strange thing to witness because Brianna coughed fast. She did everything fast. It used to be it was only when she ran-something she could do at about the speed of sound. But more and more lately that speed had translated to the rest of her movements, too. So now she coughed much faster than a normal person would cough.
And then she sat down as suddenly as she’d stood up.
Jack’s eyes fluttered open. “Huh,” he muttered. He blinked a couple of times and fished around for his fallen glasses. “What?”
“Trouble,” Taylor said.
“I’m coming,” Brianna said. She stood up again and sat back down again.
“She’s sick,” Jack said. “Like the flu or whatever. What I had.”
“What do you mean she’s sick?” Taylor demanded. “Dekka told me you were sick.”
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