“No,” Caine protested.
The monster laughed, a cruel sound from that piranha’s mouth.
Slowly the monster faded. Color bled back into the world around Sam and Caine. Orc and Drake accelerated back to normal speed. The air smelled of gunpowder again. Astrid drew breath.
Sam and Caine stood facing each other.
The world was the world. Their world. The FAYZ. Diana stared. Astrid gasped and opened her eyes.
Caine was quick. He raised his hands, palms out.
But Sam was quicker. He leaped toward Caine, stepped inside his reach, and grabbed his brother’s head with his good hand.
Sam’s palm was flat against Caine’s temple, his fingers curved into his hair.
“Don’t make me do this,” Sam warned.
Caine didn’t try to back away. His eyes were wild with defiance. “Go ahead, Sam,” Caine whispered.
Sam shook his head. “No.”
“Pity?” Caine sneered.
“You have to leave, Caine,” Sam said softly. “I don’t want to kill you. But you can’t be here.”
Brianna zoomed up, screeched to a halt, and leveled a gun at Caine. “If Sam doesn’t get you, I will. You sure aren’t faster than the Breeze.”
Caine ignored her contemptuously. But he would never get the chance to attack Sam now. Brianna was too fast to defy.
“It’s a mistake to let me live, Sam,” Caine warned. “You know I’ll be back.”
“Don’t. Don’t come back. Next time…”
“Next time one of us will kill the other,” Caine said.
“Walk away. Stay away.”
“Never,” Caine said with some of his old bravado. “Diana?”
“She can stay here,” Astrid said.
“Can you, Diana?” Caine asked her.
“Astrid the Genius,” Diana said in her mocking way. “So intelligent. So clueless.”
Diana stepped close to Sam, cupped his cheek with her hand, and planted a light kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Sorry, Sam. The bad girl ends up with the bad boy. It’s the way the world works. Especially this world.”
She went to Caine. She did not take his extended hand, did not even look at him, but walked beside him as he descended the steps.
The battle between Drake and Orc had staggered to an exhausted draw. Drake was raising his whip hand once more to bring it down on Orc’s pylon shoulders, but his movements were slow, leaden.
“Knock it off, Drake,” Diana said. “Don’t you know when the fight is over?”
“Never,” Drake gasped.
Caine raised his hand and almost casually pulled the struggling, cursing Drake after him.
The coyotes, those still alive, followed them out of town.
Edilio raised his gun and took aim at the retreating beasts, human and not. His eyes locked with Brianna’s, the two of them ready.
Sam said, “No, man. War’s over.”
Edilio lowered the gun reluctantly.
“Put it down, Breeze. Let it go,” Sam said.
Brianna obeyed, more relieved than anything.
Quinn climbed the steps to stand with Edilio. He was spattered with blood. He threw his own gun down on the ground. He sent Sam a bleak, infinitely sad look.
Patrick bounded up excitedly, and with him, Lana. “Sam, let me see that arm,” she said.
“No,” Sam said. “I’m fine. Go to the others. Save them, Lana. I couldn’t. Maybe you can. Start with Little Pete. He’s…he’s very important.”
Astrid had gone back into the church to find her brother. She reappeared, holding him under the arms, dragging him. “Help me,” Astrid begged, and Lana ran to her.
Sam wanted to go to Astrid. He needed to. But utter weariness rooted him to the spot. He leaned his good hand on Edilio’s strong shoulder.
“I guess we won,” Sam said.
“Yeah,” Edilio agreed. “I’ll get the backhoe. Got a lot of holes to dig.”
FINAL
THE FOOD SEEMED almost to crush the tables. Turkey and dressing, cranberry sauce, and the biggest collection of pies Sam had ever seen.
The tables were set up first at the south end of the plaza. But then Albert realized that people didn’t want to be away from the rows of graves at the north end, they wanted to stay near them. The dead were to be included in this Thanksgiving.
They ate off paper plates and used plastic forks, sat on the few chairs or on the grass.
There was laughter.
There were sniffles, and tears as well, as people remembered Thanksgivings past.
There was music from a stereo system rigged up by Computer Jack.
Lana had worked around the clock for days to heal everyone who could be healed. Dahra had been at her side, organizing, prioritizing the worst cases, handing out support and pain pills to those who had to wait. Cookie had missed the fight entirely, but had become Dahra’s faithful nurse, using his size and strength to lift the injured.
Mary brought the prees out for the big feast. She and her brother, John, prepared plates for them, spoon-fed some of them, and changed diapers on blankets spread on the grass.
Orc sat with Howard in a corner by themselves. Orc had fought Drake to a standstill. But no one—least of all Orc—had forgotten Bette.
The plaza was a disaster. The burned apartment building was a wreck. The church had only three walls now, and the steeple would probably topple over if there was ever a storm.
They had burned the dead coyotes. Their ashes and bones filled several large trash cans.
Sam watched it all, standing a little apart, balancing a plate of food and trying not to spill the dressing.
“Astrid, tell me if this is crazy: I’m thinking if there are any leftovers, we could send them up to Coates,” Sam said. “You know, a peace offering.”
“No. Not crazy,” she said. Astrid put her arm around his waist.
“You know, I’ve had this plan in mind for a while,” Sam said.
“What plan?”
“It involved you and me just sitting on the beach.”
“Just sitting?”
“Well…”
“He says, allowing his elliptical tone to imply any number of things.”
Sam smiled. “I’m all about elliptical implications.”
“Are you going to tell me what happened during the big blink?”
“I am. I will. Maybe not today.” He nodded toward Little Pete, who hunched over a plate of food and rocked back and forth. “I’m glad he’s okay.”
“Yeah,” Astrid said shortly. Then, “I think the injury, the blow to his head…oh, never mind. Let’s not talk about Petey for once. Give your speech and then let’s go and see if you even know what ‘elliptical’ means.”
“My speech?”
“Everyone’s waiting,” she said.
Sure enough, he realized, there were expectant glances in his direction and a feeling of unfinished business in the air.
“Got any more good quotes I can rip off?”
She thought for a moment. “Okay, here’s one. ‘With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right, as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in, to bind up the nation’s wounds….’ President Lincoln.”
Sam said, “Yeah, that’s totally going to happen, I’m going to give a speech that sounds like that.”
“They’re all still scared,” she said. Then she corrected herself. “We’re all still scared.”
“It’s not over,” Sam said. “You know that.”
“It’s over for today.”
“We have pie,” he agreed. Then, with a sigh, he climbed up onto the edge of the fountain. “Um, people.”
It wasn’t hard to get their attention. They gathered around. Even the littlest ones toned down their giggling, at least a bit.
“First of all, thanks to Albert and his helpers for this meal. Let’s give it up for the true Mac Daddy.”
A round of hearty applause an
d some laughter, and Albert waved sheepishly. He frowned a little too, obviously conflicted about the use of the “Mac” prefix in a way that was not approved in the McDonald’s manual.
“And we have to mention Lana and Dahra, because without them, there would be a lot fewer of us here.”
Now the applause was almost reverential.
“Our first Thanksgiving in the FAYZ,” Sam said when the applause died down.
“Hope it’s our last,” someone shouted.
“Yeah. You got that right,” Sam agreed. “But we’re here. We’re here in this place we never wanted to be. And we’re scared. And I’m not going to lie and tell you that from here on, it will all be easy. It won’t be. It will be hard. And we’ll be scared some more, I guess. And sad. And lonely. Some terrible things have happened. Some terrible things…” For a moment, he lost his way. But then he stood up straighter again. “But, still, we are grateful, and we give thanks to God, if you believe in Him, or to fate, or to just ourselves, all of us here.”
“To you, Sam,” someone shouted.
“No, no, no.” He waved that off. “No. We give thanks to the nineteen kids who are buried right there.” He pointed at the six rows of three, plus the one who started a seventh row. Neat hand-painted wooden tombstones bore the names of Bette and too many others.
“And we give thanks to the heroes who are standing around here right now eating turkey. Too many names to mention, and they’d all just be embarrassed, anyway, but we all know them.”
There was a wave of loud, sustained applause, and many faces turned toward Edilio and Dekka, Taylor and Brianna, and some toward Quinn.
“We all hope this will end. We all hope we’ll soon be back in the world with people we love. But right now, we’re here. We’re in the FAYZ. And what we’re going to do is work together, and look out for each other, and help each other.” People nodded, some high-fived.
“Most of us are from Perdido Beach. Some are from Coates. Some of us are…well, a little strange.” A few titters. “And some of us are not. But we’re all here now, we’re all in it together. We’re going to survive. If this is our world now…I mean, it is our world now. It is our world. So, let’s make it a good one.”
He stepped down in silence.
Then someone started clapping rhythmically and saying, “Sam, Sam, Sam.” Others joined in, and soon every person in the plaza, even some of the prees, was chanting his name.
Quinn was there, and Edilio and Lana.
Sam said to Quinn, “Would you do me a favor and keep an eye on Little Pete?”
“No prob, brah.”
“Where are you going?” Edilio asked.
“We’re going to the beach.” Sam took Astrid’s hand.
“You want us to come?” Edilio asked.
Lana put her arm through his and said, “No, Edilio: they don’t.”
The boy walked stiffly, favoring the half-healed burn on his side. The coyote walked just ahead, leading the way through the desert. The sun set to the west, sending long shadows from boulders and brush, painting the mountain’s face an eerie orange.
“How much farther?” Caine asked.
“Soon,” Pack Leader said. “The Darkness is near.”
About the Author
MICHAEL GRANT has spent much of his life on the move. Raised in a military family, he attended ten schools in five states, as well as three schools in France. Even as an adult he kept moving, and in fact became a writer in part because it was one of the few jobs that wouldn’t tie him down. His fondest dream is to spend a year circumnavigating the globe and visiting every continent. Yes, even Antarctica. He lives in southern California with his wife, Katherine Applegate, and their two children.
Read more about life in the Fayz at www.thefayz.com where you’ll find Sinder’s blog.
Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins author.
Credits
Cover art © 2008 by Amber Gray
Cover design by Joel Tippie
Copyright
Agent Orange lyrics used by permission. “A Cry For Help In A World Gone Mad,” written by Michael A. Palm, courtesy of Covina High Music
GONE. Copyright © 2008 by Michael Grant. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
Adobe Digital Edition March 2009 ISBN 978-0-06-190964-1
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Michael Grant, Gone
(Series: Gone # 1)
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