Gone Series Complete Collection (10 page)

Ahead was the Chevron station. Sam thought he saw movement there.

“What do you guys think?” he asked.

“Maybe they have food. It’s a mini-mart, right?” Quinn said. “I’m hungry.”

“We should keep going,” Astrid said.

“Edilio?” Sam pressed.

He shrugged. “I don’t want to be paranoid. But, man, who knows?”

Sam said, “I guess I vote for keeping going.”

Edilio nodded and eased the golf cart to the left side of the road.

“If there are kids there, we smile and wave and say we’re in a hurry,” Sam said.

“Yes, sir,” Quinn said.

“Don’t pull that, brah. We took a vote,” Sam said.

“Yeah. Right.”

There were clearly people at the Chevron station. A slight breeze carried a torn Doritos bag down the highway toward them, a red and gold tumbleweed.

As the golf cart approached, one kid, then another, stepped out into the road. Cookie was the first. The second kid Sam didn’t recognize.

“T’sup, Cookie,” Sam called out as they drew within twenty yards.

“T’sup, Sam?” Cookie replied.

“Looking for Astrid’s little brother, man.”

“Hold up,” Cookie said. He was carrying a metal baseball bat. The other kid beside him had a croquet mallet with green stripes.

“Nah, man, we’re on a mission, we’ll catch you later,” Sam said. He waved, and Edilio kept his foot on the pedal. They were within a couple of feet and would soon be past.

“Stop them,” a voice yelled from the Chevron station. Howard was running and behind him, Orc. Cookie stepped in front of the cart.

“Don’t stop,” Sam hissed.

“Man, look out,” Edilio warned Cookie.

Cookie jumped aside at the last second. The other kid swung his mallet hard. The wood shaft hit the steel pole that supported the cart’s awning. The mallet head snapped off and narrowly missed Quinn’s head.

Then they were past and Quinn yelled back, “Hey, you almost knocked my head in, jerkwad.”

They were maybe thirty feet on and pulling away when Orc yelled, “Catch them, you morons.”

Cookie was a big kid, not fast. But the other kid, the one holding the broken mallet, was smaller and quicker. He broke into a sprint. Howard and Orc were farther back, running full out, but Orc was heavy and slow and Howard pulled away from him.

The kid with the mallet caught up to them. “You better stop,” he said, panting, running alongside.

“I don’t think so,” Sam said.

“Dude, I’ll stab you with this stick,” the kid threatened, but he was panting harder. He made a weak stab with the shattered end of the mallet.

Sam caught it and twisted it out of his hands. The kid tripped and sprawled. Sam tossed the stick aside contemptuously.

Howard was almost in range, coming up directly behind the cart. Astrid and Quinn watched calmly as Howard pumped hard, skinny arms windmilling. He threw a glance back and realized Orc wasn’t going to catch up.

“Howard, what do you think you’re doing, man?” Quinn asked in a perfectly reasonable voice. “You’re like a dog chasing a truck. What are you going to do if you catch us?”

Howard got the point and slowed down.

Edilio said, “It’s a low-speed chase, man. Maybe we’ll be on the news.”

That got a nervous laugh.

Five minutes later, no one was laughing. “There’s a truck coming up fast,” Astrid said. “We need to pull over.”

“They won’t run us down,” Quinn said. “Even Orc’s not that crazy.”

“They may or may not want to run us down,” Astrid said, “but that’s a fourteen-year-old driving a Hummer. You really want to be on the road?”

Quinn nodded. “We’re in for a pounding.”

TEN

274
HOURS
, 27
MINUTES

THE HUMMER
WEAVED
back and forth across the road, but there was no way to pretend it wasn’t going to catch them.

“Keep going or pull off?” Edilio asked. His hands were white-knuckled on the wheel.

“They’re going to kick our butts now,” Quinn yelled. “We should have just stopped. I told you we should have just stopped, but no.”

The Hummer closed the distance with shocking speed.

“They’re going to hit us,” Astrid yelled.

Quinn jumped off the cart and ran. The Hummer shuddered to a stop. Cookie and the Mallet Kid piled out and went after Quinn.

“Pull over,” Sam said. He jumped off and ran to Quinn’s aid.

Quinn tried to leap the ditch beside the road, but landed badly. The two thugs were on him before he could recover. Cookie pounded him in the back with his fist.

Sam made a flying leap at Cookie. He grabbed Cookie in the crook of one arm and yanked him forward with his momentum.

Cookie landed hard on his belly, and Sam rolled free. Cookie had dropped his bat to pound Quinn with his fists, and Sam dived for it. Mallet, Edilio, and Quinn had a brief but violent tussle that left Edilio and Quinn standing and the other kid down. But it had given Orc and Howard time to climb down from the truck.

Orc swung his bat and caught Edilio behind the knees. Edilio dropped like a sack of cement.

Gripping Cookie’s bat, Sam raced to get between Orc and Edilio.

“I don’t want to fight you,” Sam shouted.

“I know you don’t want to fight me,” Orc said confidently. “Nobody wants to be fighting me.”

Astrid came striding up. “All of you stop it,” she yelled. Her fists were balled up. There were tears in her eyes. But she was angry, not sad. “We don’t need this crap.”

Howard slid between Orc and Astrid. “Step off, Astrid, my man Orc has to teach this punk a lesson.”

“Step off?” Astrid shot back. “You don’t tell me to step off you . . . you invertebrate.”

“Astrid, stay out of this, I got this,” Sam said. Edilio tried to stand firm, but he could barely stand at all.

Surprisingly, Orc said, “Hey. Let Astrid talk.”

Pumped on adrenaline, Sam almost didn’t hear him. But then he processed what Orc had said and kept his mouth shut.

Astrid took a deep breath. Her hair was flying wild. Her face was red. Finally, struggling for calm, she said, “We’re not looking for a fight.”

“Speak for yourself,” Cookie muttered.

“This is crazy,” Astrid said. “We’re just looking for my brother.”

Orc’s slit eyes narrowed further. “The retard?”

“He’s autistic,” Astrid snapped.

“Yeah. Little Pe-tard,” Orc sneered, but he didn’t push it.

“You should have stopped, Sammy.” Howard made a
tsk-tsk
sound, shaking his head regretfully.

“That’s what I said, and I’m the one who ends up getting pounded?” Quinn gestured wildly, angry at Sam.

Howard nodded toward Quinn, amused. “You should have listened to your bro there, Sam. I told you last night, you need to take care of my man Orc.”

“Take care of him? What does that mean?” Astrid demanded.

Howard turned cold eyes on her. “You have to show Captain Orc some respect, that’s what I mean.”

“Captain?” Sam resisted the urge to laugh.

Howard stepped close, brave with Orc standing right behind him. “Yeah. Captain. Someone had to step up and take charge, right? You were busy, I guess, maybe surfing or whatever, so Captain Orc volunteered to be in charge.”

“In charge of what?” Quinn asked.

“Stopping everybody running crazy, that’s what.”

“Yeah,” Orc agreed.

“Kids were busting everything up, taking anything they wanted,” Howard went on.

“Yeah.”

“And all those booger-eaters, all those little kids running around, no one to even stop them crying or change their diapers. Orc made sure they were taken care of.” Howard grinned a huge grin. “He comforted them. Or at least made sure someone did.”

“That’s right,” Orc said, as if it was the first time he’d heard it put that way.

“No one else wanted to get things under control, so Orc did,” Howard said. “And so he is the Captain now, until the adults come back.”

“Only they ain’t coming back,” Orc said.

“That’s totally right,” Howard said. “What the Captain said.”

Sam glanced at Astrid. The truth was, someone needed to get people to stop acting crazy. Orc would not have been Sam’s choice for that job. But he didn’t want to do it himself.

The fight had mostly gone out of the situation. And now that the two sides were lined up face-to-face, there was no question who would win if it started up again. It was four to four, but the four bullies included Orc, and he counted for three at least.

“We just want to go look for Little Pete,” Sam said finally, swallowing his anger.

“Yeah? If you’re looking for something, it’s best if you go kind of slow,” Howard said with a smirk.

“You want the golf cart,” Sam said.

“That’s what I’m talking about, Sammy,” Howard said, spreading his hands wide in a gesture of conciliation.

“It’s, like, people pay taxes, right?” Mallet said.

“Exactly,” Howard agreed. “It’s a tax.”

“Who are you, anyway?” Astrid challenged Mallet. “I’ve never seen you at school.”

“I go to Coates Academy.”

Sam said, “My mom’s the night nurse up there.”

“Not anymore,” the kid said.

“Why are you down here?” Astrid again.

“I didn’t get along with the kids up there.” Mallet tried to toss the line off like it was a joke, but the effect was undermined by the fear in his eyes.

“Are there any adults up there?” Sam asked hopefully.

“Aw,” Howard said. “Sammy wants his mommy.”

“Take the golf cart,” Sam said.

“Don’t waste your time trying to look all bad at me. See, I know you, man,” Howard said. “School Bus Sam. Mr. Fireman. You go all heroic, but then you disappear. Don’t you? It kind of comes and goes with you. Everyone last night is all, ‘Where’s Sam? Where’s Sam?’ And I had to say, ‘Well, kids, Sam is off with Astrid the Genius because Sam can’t be hanging out with regular people like us. Sam has to go off with his hot blond girlfriend.’”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Sam said, and instantly regretted it.

Howard laughed, delighted to have provoked him. “See, Sam, you always got to be in your own little world, too good for everyone, while me and Captain Orc and our boys here, we’re always going to be around. You step away, and we step up.”

Sam could feel Astrid and Quinn watching, waiting for him to deny what Howard was saying. But what was the point? Sam had felt the expectations of so many kids in the plaza, kids waiting for him to step up, like Howard said. And all he had wanted to do was run away. He had jumped at the chance to go off with Astrid.

“I’m bored with this,” Orc grunted.

Howard grinned. “Okay, Sam. You can go find Little Pe-tard, but when you come back, you better have a nice present for the Captain. Captain runs the FAYZ, man.”

“The what?” Astrid asked.

Howard was clearly pleased to be asked. “I came up with that myself. FAYZ. Spelled F-A-Y-Z. It stands for Fallout Alley Youth Zone. Fallout Alley, and nothing but kids.”

Howard laughed his mean laugh. “Don’t worry, Astrid, it’s just a FAYZ. Get it? It’s just a FAYZ.”

The sun was hot on her face. Lana opened her eyes. Ominous winged shapes floated above her, crossed the sun, floated back. The vultures watched her and waited, confident of a meal.

Her tongue was swollen so that it filled her mouth, almost gagging her. Her lips were cracked. She was dying.

She looked around for the body of her poor dog. He should have been right there beside her. But there was no body.

She heard a familiar bark.

“Patrick?”

He came bounding over to her, excited, urging her to come and play.

She lifted her one good arm and touched Patrick’s neck. His fur was matted with dried blood. She probed where the fatal bite had been. The wound was closed. There was still a scab on the site, but it was no longer bleeding, and judging from Patrick’s behavior, he had never felt better.

Had she dreamed it all? No, the dried blood was proof.

She strained to recall her last conscious moments from the night. Had she prayed? Was that it, a miracle? She didn’t remember doing that, she wasn’t a person who thought about prayer.

Had she caused this? Had she somehow healed Patrick?

She almost laughed. She was getting delirious. She was losing her mind. Imagining things.

Crazy from the pain and thirst and hunger.

Crazy.

She smelled something foul. Sickly sweet and foul.

She looked at her shattered right arm. The flesh, especially the taut, stretched flesh that barely contained her shattered arm bones, was dark, black edging toward green. The smell was awful.

Lana took several deep breaths, shaky, fighting the upsurge of terror. She’d heard of gangrene. It was what happened when flesh died or circulation was cut off. Her arm was dying. The smell was the odor of rotting human flesh.

A vulture fluttered to a landing just a few feet away. It stared at her with beady eyes and bobbed its featherless neck. The vulture knew that smell, too.

Patrick came bounding back, barking, and the vulture reluctantly flapped away.

“Not getting me,” Lana croaked, but the weakness of her own voice just scared her further. The vultures were going to get her. They were.

But there was Patrick, healed after a seemingly fatal wound.

Lana laid her left hand on the flesh just below the bone on her right arm. The flesh was hot to the touch. It felt puffy beneath the crust of dried blood.

She closed her eyes and thought, whatever did it, however it happened for Patrick, I want it now for me. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die.

She drifted off then, thinking of home. Of her room. Posters on the walls, a dreamcatcher hanging in front of one window, forgotten stuffed animals in a wicker basket, a closet bursting with clothing, her collection of Asian fans, which everyone thought was weird.

She wasn’t mad at her parents anymore. She just missed them. She wanted her mother more than anything. And her dad, too. He would know how to save her.

She dreamed feverish dreams, images that made her gasp and pant and caused her heart to beat like a jackhammer.