Fear (Gone #5)(109)

But when, after a terribly long time, Brianna finally felt clearer, cleaner air on her face, she knew her hope had been futile.

The trip was from narrow darkness to wide-open darkness. She was still blind. And still slow.

The bonfire in the plaza was much smaller now. They’d realized that it had to be if they were going to keep it burning. Even with Caine’s sullen help, ripping flammable materials out of buildings and carrying them to the fire was not easy. So now the bonfire was more like a campfire. And the light of it barely cast a glow on the first circle of kids. Most sat in darkness, staring at the fire, unable even to see the person sitting beside them.

In the dark fights broke out. And there was nothing Quinn could do but yell at them.

One fight went from curses to sickening thuds of some blunt weapon on flesh and bone.

A few seconds later someone—no one knew who—dashed forward to grab a burning chair leg and ran off into the night.

The first home fire had flared in the west end of town. It sent sparks a hundred feet into the air, and Quinn was certain it would spread. It didn’t seem to, at least not quickly, but the greater glow did draw some of the people to it. They could be heard jostling and calling out to one another as they felt their way to it like moths drawn to a lightbulb.

“I wish I knew whether Sanjit was safe,” Lana said.

“I was just thinking about Edilio for some reason,” Quinn said. “Somehow I always feel like if Edilio’s still standing, we’re not totally beaten yet.” He laughed. “Weird, I guess, because I didn’t used to like him. I used to call him a wetback. Not the worst thing I ever did, I guess, but I wish I could take it back.”

Caine was resting beside them, having used his power to noisily rip some wooden doors off houses and then carry them back to feed the fire.

“It’s stupid to waste time worrying about what you did,” Caine said. “It’s not going to matter.”

“Your brother, Sam, he worries about it all the time,” Quinn said. He winced, thinking maybe that was violating a confidence. But weren’t they past all that? Past everything, in fact? Wasn’t this maybe the last peaceful conversation before the end?

“Does he?” Caine asked. “Idiot.”

So much for peaceful conversation. Caine was returning to form. Soon he’d grow tired of pretending to get along. Of course, for now he still liked the fire, as they all did. No wonder ancient man had worshiped fire. On a dark night surrounded by lions or hyenas or whatever, it must have seemed like it was more than just burning twigs.

“I’m hungry!” a voice cried out of the dark.

Quinn ignored it. It wasn’t the first such cry. It wouldn’t be the last. Not by a long shot.

Lana had been quiet for a long time. Quinn asked her whether she was okay. No answer. So he let it go. But a few minutes later Patrick came nosing against Quinn, and so he said, “Lana, I think Patrick’s starting to wonder about dinner, too.”

And again she didn’t answer. So Quinn leaned past his former king and saw Lana staring, eyes wide, into the fire.

He reached past Caine and shook her.

“What?” she snapped. Like someone awakened from a dream.

“Are you okay?”

Lana shook her head, a frown deepening the black and orange lines of her face. “None of us are okay. It’s free. Oh, my God, it finally did it.”

“What are you ranting about?” Caine snapped, irritated.

“The gaiaphage. It’s coming.”

Quinn saw Caine snap his mouth shut. He saw Caine’s eyes widen. His jaw clenched hard.

“I can feel it,” Lana said.

“Probably just—” Quinn started to say something reassuring, but Caine cut him off.

“She’s right.” He shared a strange, frightened look with Lana. “It’s changed.”

“It’s coming,” Lana said. “It’s coming!”

Quinn saw then what he never expected to see in this life: sheer terror in Lana’s eyes.





THIRTY-FIVE

4 HOURS, 6 MINUTES

THE BABY TRIED to walk. But it failed. It toppled over, legs still too weak, coordination lacking. But it wasn’t supposed to try. It shouldn’t even be born, let alone attempting to stand up.

“I’ll carry it,” Drake announced.

“No,” Penny said. “You may need your whip hand free. I will carry it. My powers don’t need me to use my hands.”

Diana could see that Drake was not happy. Not happy at all with Penny. He’d have been happier to see her die. Drake was now trapped with females he couldn’t just beat on or intimidate.

“What do we do with her?” Penny pointed at Diana with utter contempt, curling her lips at Diana’s disheveled appearance. The torn clothing barely put back together. The stains. The wounds. The weakness.

Drake’s dark discontent grew darker still. “The gaiaphage says she has to live.”

Penny snorted. “Why? Is the gaiaphage getting sentimental now that it has a girl’s body?”

“Shut up,” Drake snapped. “It’s just a body. It’s a weapon the master uses. He’s still he. He’s still what he always was.”

“Uh-huh.” Penny smirked.

Drake squatted down in front of Diana. “You’re a mess. You look like roadkill. You even stink. You’re sickening.”