Gone Series Complete Collection (139 page)

“Kind of hungry, huh?”

Two kids were standing there like they had appeared out of thin air. The taller one had spoken. His eyes were intelligent, mocking, and wary. The other kid’s face was impassive, expressionless.

Both were dressed in bandages. Bandages wrapped around their hands. The shorter kid had a bandana around his lower face.

The silence stretched as Caine, Diana, Penny, and Bug stared and were stared back at.

“What are you supposed to be, mummies?” Diana asked. She wiped sheep’s blood from her mouth and then realized that it had saturated her shirt and that there would be no wiping it away.

“We’re lepers,” the tall kid said.

Diana felt her heart skip several beats.

“My name is Sanjit,” the tall boy said, and extended a hand that seemed to be stumps of fingers bound with gauze. “This is Choo.”

“Stay back!” Caine snapped.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Sanjit said. “It’s not always contagious. I mean, sure, sometimes. But not always.”

He dropped his hand to his side.

“You have leprosy?” Caine demanded.

“Like at Sunday school?” Bug said.

Sanjit nodded. “It’s not that bad. It doesn’t hurt. I mean, if your finger falls off, you kind of don’t even feel it.”

“I felt it when my penis fell off, but it didn’t hurt that bad,” the one called Choo said.

Penny yelped. Caine shifted uncomfortably. Bug faded from view as he backpedaled away.

“But people are scared of leprosy, anyway,” Sanjit said. “Silly. Kind of.”

“What are you doing here?” Caine asked warily. He had put down his food, keeping his hands ready.

“Hey, I should ask you that,” Sanjit said. Not harsh but definitely not willing to be pushed around by Caine, either. “We live here. You just got here.”

“Plus, you killed one of our sheep,” Choo said.

“This is the San Francisco de Sales leper colony,” Sanjit said. “Didn’t you know?”

Diana began to laugh. “A leper colony? That’s where we are? That’s what we half killed ourselves getting to?”

“Shut up, Diana,” Caine snapped.

“You guys want to come back to the hospital with us?” Sanjit offered hopefully. “All the adult patients and the nurses and doctors are gone, they just disappeared one day. We’re all by ourselves.”

“We heard there was some movie star’s mansion out here.”

Sanjit’s dark eyes narrowed. He glanced right, as if trying to make sense of what she was saying. Then he said, “Oh, I know what you’re thinking of. Todd Chance and Jennifer Brattle pay for this place. It’s, like, their charity.”

Diana couldn’t stop giggling. A leper colony. That’s what Bug had read about. A leper colony paid for by two rich movie stars. Their charity thing.

“I think Bug may have gotten just a few of the details wrong,” she managed to say between dry, racking laughs that were indistinguishable from sobs.

“You can have the sheep,” Choo said.

Diana stopped laughing. Caine’s eyes narrowed.

Sanjit quickly said, “But we’d rather just have you come back with us. I mean, we’re kind of lonely.”

Caine stared at Choo. Choo stared back, then looked away. “He doesn’t seem to want us to come to this hospital,” Caine said, indicating Choo.

Diana saw fear in the younger boy’s eyes.

“Have them take off their bandages,” Diana said. All urge to laugh was gone now. Both boys had bright eyes. The visible parts of them seemed healthy. Their hair wasn’t brittle and broken like hers.

“You heard her,” Caine said.

“No,” Sanjit said. “It’s not good for our leprosy to be exposed.”

Caine took a deep breath. “I’m going to count to three and then I’m going to throw your little lying friend there straight into a tree. Just like I did with this sheep.”

“He’ll do it,” Diana warned. “Don’t believe he won’t.”

Sanjit hung his head.

“Sorry,” Choo said. “I screwed it up.”

Sanjit began unwinding the gauze from his perfectly healthy fingers. “Okay, you got us. So, allow me to welcome you to San Francisco de Sales Island.”

“Thanks,” Caine said dryly.

“And yes, we do have some food. Maybe you’d like to join us? Unless you want to stick with your sheep sushi.”

Throughout the morning and early afternoon, the shell-shocked kids of Perdido Beach milled around, lost and confused.

But Albert was neither lost nor confused. Throughout the day kids came to his office in the McDonald’s. He had a booth there, in a corner by the window so he could look out on the plaza and see what passed by.

“Hunter came in with a deer,” a kid reported. “And some birds. About seventy-five pounds of usable meat.”

“Good,” Albert said.

Quinn came in, looking tired and smelling of fish. He sagged into the seat across from Albert. “We went back out. We didn’t do very well since we got started late. But we have maybe fifty pounds usable.”

“That’s good work,” Albert said. He calculated in his head. “We have about six ounces a head of meat. Nothing from the fields.” He tapped the table, thinking. “It’s not worth opening the mall. We’ll do a cookout in the plaza. Roast up the meat, make a stew out of the fish. Charge a ’Berto a head.”

Quinn shook his head. “Man, you really want to get all these kids together in one place? Freaks and normals? As crazed as everyone is?”

Albert thought that over. “We don’t have time to open the mall and we need to get this product out there.”

Quinn made a half smile. “Product.” He shook his head. “Dude, the one guy I’m not worried about when the FAYZ ends—or even if it doesn’t—is you, Albert.”

Albert nodded in agreement, accepting the flattery as a simple statement of fact. “I keep my focus.”

“Yes. You do,” Quinn agreed in a tone that made Albert wonder just what he meant.

“Hey, by the way, one of my guys thinks he saw Sam. Up on the rocks, just down from the power plant,” Quinn said.

“Sam’s not back here yet?”

Quinn shook his head. “The number one question I keep hearing: where is Sam?”

Albert curled his lip. “I think Sam’s having some kind of breakdown.”

“Well, he’s got a right, doesn’t he?” Quinn said.

“Maybe,” Albert allowed. “But mostly I think he’s just pouting. He’s mad because he’s not the only person in charge anymore.”

Quinn shifted uncomfortably. “He’s the one who goes right into the danger when most of us are sitting on our butts or hiding under a table.”

“Yeah. But that’s his job, isn’t it? I mean, the council pays him twenty ’Bertos a week, which is twice what most people make.”

Quinn didn’t look as if he liked that explanation very much. “Doesn’t change the fact that he could get killed. And, you know, it’s still not fair pay or anything. My guys make ten ’Bertos a week to fish, and it’s hard work, but dude, a lot of people could do that job. Only one guy can do Sam’s job.”

“Yes. The only single person. But what we need is more people doing it. With less power.”

“You’re not getting anti-freak, are you?”

Albert pushed the idea away. “Don’t accuse me of being an idiot, okay?” It irritated him, Quinn standing up for Sam. He had nothing against Sam. Sam had kept them safe from Caine and that creep Drake and Pack Leader, Albert understood that. But the time for heroes was on its way out. Or at least he hoped it was. They needed to build an actual society with laws and rules and rights.

This was Perdido Beach, after all, not Sam’s Beach.

“Heard another kid, this is like the fourth, say he saw Drake Merwin during the fire,” Quinn said.

Albert snorted. “There’s a lot of bull going around.”

Quinn looked at him long enough that it almost made Albert uncomfortable. Then, Quinn said, “I guess if it turns out to be true we better hope Sam decides to come back.”

“Orc could take care of Drake. And he’d do it for a pint of vodka,” Albert said dismissively.

Quinn sighed and got up to leave. “Sometimes I worry about you, man.”

“Hey, I’m feeding people in case you didn’t notice,” Albert said. “Astrid talks and Sam pouts, and I get the job done. Me. Why? Because I don’t talk, I just do.”

Quinn sat back down. He leaned forward, elbows on knees. “Man, don’t you remember taking tests in school? Multiple choice: A, B, C, D, or E, all of the above.”

“Yeah?”

“Dude, sometimes the answer is ‘all of the above.’ This place needs you. And it needs Astrid. And it needs Sam. It’s all of the above, Albert.”

Albert blinked.

“I mean, no offense,” Quinn said quickly. “But it’s like Astrid’s yapping away about how we need some kind of system, and you’re counting your money, and Sam’s acting like we should all just shut up and get out of his way and let him fry whoever messes with him. And the three of you aren’t really stepping up. You aren’t working together, which is what all of us regular people need you to do. Because, and really, I’m not trying to be a jerk or whatever, but duh: we do need a system, and we do need you and your ’Bertos, and sometimes we need Sam to just come along and kick some ass.”

Albert said nothing. His brain was clicking away, but it occurred to him after a minute that he hadn’t said anything and that Quinn was waiting for an answer, and cringing a little like he expected Albert to lash out.

Quinn stood up again, shook his head ruefully, and said, “Okay, I get it. I’ll stick to fishing.”

Albert met his eyes. “Cookout in the plaza tonight. Spread the word, okay?”

THIRTY-FOUR

7
HOURS
, 2
MINUTES

DIANA
STARTED
TO
cry when Sanjit put the bowl of Cheerios in front of her. He poured from a carton of shelf-stable milk and the milk was so white and the cereal so fragrant, so wonderfully noisy as it sloshed around in the blue bowl.

She reached for it with her fingers. Then she noticed the spoon. It was clean. Bright.

With trembling fingers she dipped the spoon into the cereal and raised it to her lips. The rest of the world disappeared then, for just a few moments. Caine and Penny wolfed from their own bowls, Bug completely visible as he did likewise. But all she noticed, all she felt, was the cool crunch, the rush of sugar, the shock of recognition.

Yes, this was food.

Diana’s tears ran down her face into the spoon, adding a touch of salt to her second bite.

She blinked and saw Sanjit staring at her. He held the industrial-size box of cereal at the ready in one hand, the carton of milk in the other.

Penny laughed and spilled cereal and milk from her lips.

“Food,” Caine said.

“Food,” Bug agreed.

“What else do you have?” Caine asked.

“You have to take it slow,” Sanjit said.

“Don’t tell me how to take it.”

Sanjit did not back down. “You aren’t the first starving people I’ve seen.”

“Someone else from Perdido Beach?” Caine demanded sharply.

Sanjit exchanged a look with the younger boy, Virtue. He’d told Diana that was his real name.

“So it’s pretty bad on the mainland,” Sanjit said.

Caine finished his cereal. “More.”

“A starving person eats too much all at once, he gets sick,” Sanjit said. “You end up puking it all up.”

“More,” Caine said with unmistakable threat in his voice.

Sanjit poured him a refill, then did the same for the rest of them. “Sorry we don’t have any Cap’n Crunch or Froot Loops,” Sanjit said. “Jennifer and Todd are into nutrition. I guess it wouldn’t do for them to be photographed with fat children.”

Diana noted the sardonic tone. And as she gulped the second bowl she noted, too, that her stomach was cramping. She made herself stop.

“There’s plenty of food,” Sanjit said gently just to her. “Take your time. Give your body time to adjust.”

Diana nodded. “Where did you see starving people?”

“Where I grew up. Beggars. Maybe they’d get too sick to beg sometimes, or just have a run of bad luck, and then they’d get pretty hungry.”

“Thanks for the food,” Diana said. She wiped away tears and tried to smile. But she remembered that her gums were swollen and red and her smile wasn’t too attractive.

“I also saw scurvy sometimes,” Sanjit said. “You have it. I’ll get you each some vitamins. You’ll be better in a few days.”

“Scurvy,” Diana said. It seemed ridiculous. Scurvy was from pirate movies.

Caine was looking around the room, appraising. They were at a massive wooden table just beyond the kitchen. It could have seated thirty people on the long benches.

“Nice,” Caine said, waving his spoon to indicate the room.

“It’s the staff table,” Virtue said. “But we eat here because the family table is kind of uncomfortable. And the formal dining room . . .” He petered out, fearing he’d said something he shouldn’t.

“So, you’re like superrich,” Penny said.

“Our parents are,” Virtue said.

“Our stepparents,” Sanjit corrected.

“Jennifer and Todd. ‘J-Todd,’” Caine said. “That’s what they were, right?”

“I think they preferred ‘Toddifer,’” Sanjit said.

“So. How much food do you have?” Caine asked bluntly, not liking that Sanjit wasn’t quivering with fear.

It had been a long time since anyone had faced Caine without fear, Diana realized. Sanjit had no idea what he was dealing with.

Well, Sanjit would learn soon enough.

“Choo? How much food do we have?”

Virtue shrugged. “When I figured it out, it was enough for the two of us to last maybe six months,” he said.

“There’s just the two of you?” Diana asked.

“I thought J-Todd had, like, ten kids or whatever,” Bug said.

“Five,” Sanjit said. “But we weren’t all here on the island.”

Diana didn’t believe it. Right then, as soon as the words were out of Sanjit’s mouth, she didn’t believe it. But she kept silent.

“Diana,” Caine said. “Have you read our two friends here?”

To Sanjit, Diana said, “I need to hold your hand. For just a moment.”

“Why?” Virtue demanded, defending his brother.

“I can tell whether you have any strange . . . mutations,” Diana said.