Fear (Gone #5)(59)

Lana’s eyes had closed. They snapped open now. A chill went down her spine.

“Afraid, are you?” she whispered.

It needed something. Needed it desperately.

Lana squeezed her eyes tight again, willing herself to do what she had refused to do before: to try to reach back across the void and touch the gaiaphage.

What is it you want so terribly, you monster?

What is it you need?

Tell me so I can kill it and you at the same time.

A voice—Lana could have sworn it was a real voice, a girl’s voice—whispered, My baby.

Albert watched the crowd of kids all pushing into the plaza. He could feel the fear. He could feel their desperation.

No crops would be picked. The market would never open.

It was the end. And time was short.

Kids brushed past him, stopped, realized who they had bumped into, and one of them said, “What’s going to happen, Albert?”

“What does this mean?”

“What are we supposed to do?”

Be afraid, Albert thought. Be afraid, because there’s nothing left to do now. So be afraid and then panic, and then spread violence and destruction.

He felt sick inside.

Within hours everything he had built would be gone. He could see it too clearly.

“But you always knew it would come to a bad end,” he whispered.

“What?”

“What did he say?”

He stared at the kids. There was a crowd around him now. Crowds were dangerous. He had to keep them calm long enough to make his own escape.

He raised a disapproving eyebrow. “You can start by not freaking out. The king will handle it.” Then, with his trademark cool arrogance, he added, “And if he doesn’t, I will.”

He turned and walked away. Behind him he heard a couple of uncertain cheers, and some encouraging words.

They’d bought it for now.

Idiots.

As he walked he went over a list in his head. His maid, Leslie-Ann, because she had saved his life. And Alicia, because she could handle a gun but wasn’t ambitious. And she was cute. One of his security guys? No. Any one of them might turn on him. No, he’d get that girl they called Pug: she was very strong and too dumb to make trouble.

Just the four of them would take the boat to the island.

That would be enough to keep watch and man the missiles he’d arranged to smuggle onto the island. And to blow anyone else who arrived, uninvited, out of the water.





TWENTY-TWO

14 HOURS, 44 MINUTES

“COME ALONG, KING Caine,” Penny taunted.

Caine dragged the stone between his legs, bent over. The blood from the staples in his head had dried, but from time to time the tiny wounds would start bleeding again. And then the blood would run into his right eye and all he would see was red until he could blink it away.

He would gather his strength sometimes and heft the stone and walk painfully forward. But he couldn’t hold it for long.

It was a long, slow, infinitely painful and humiliating walk/crawl to the plaza.

He was exhausted beyond belief. His mouth and throat were parched.

And for a long time he thought it must still be night. The street was dark, but with an eerie quality that wasn’t like moonlight. Light seemed to be shining down faintly from above. Like a dull flashlight.

Shadows were eerie. They were the narrow shadows of high noon, but dim. The air itself seemed to have taken on a sepia color, as if he was looking at an old photograph.

Caine noticed Penny craning her neck and staring up at the sky. He blinked the blood out of his eyes and painfully twisted his neck back to see.

The dome was black. The sky was a blue hole in a black sphere.

Caine began to notice kids in the street, all walking toward the plaza. Their voices had that giddy, jumpy sound kids got when they were scared. He watched the backs of heads as they craned to look up at the sky.

People were walking hunched over, like they thought the sky might fall on them.

It was a while longer before the first person noticed Penny and Caine. That kid’s cries turned every eye toward Caine.

He didn’t know what to expect. Outrage? Joy?

What he got was silence. Kids would be talking, then turn to see him dragging his cement block, and the words would die in their mouths. Their eyes would widen. If there was any pleasure there it was very well concealed.

“What’s happening to the sky?” Penny demanded, finally noticing something beyond herself. She glared at the nearest kids. “Answer me or I’ll make you wish you were dead!”

Shrugs. Shakes of the head. Backing away quickly.

“Keep moving,” she snarled at Caine.

They were in the plaza now and Penny shoved Caine in the direction of town hall.

“I need water,” Caine rasped.

“Get up the stairs,” Penny said.

“Drop dead.”

And instantly a pair of rabid dogs, their necks bearing massive iron collars, their teeth glowing pink from behind mouths full of rabid foam, attacked him from behind.

He could feel their teeth sinking into his buttocks.

The pain—no, no, he told himself, the illusion, the illusion. But it was too real; it was impossible not to believe it as the dogs ripped at him and he cried out in agony and rage and dragged his burden away, up the first step.