Code(104)

Shelton’s warning had tripped an alarm. But why?

I thought furiously. The Gamemaster’s recent words flashed in my brain.

Bad things happen, Hiram. Car brakes fail. A bridge gives way. A house explodes during a violent storm. Most times, no one suspects a thing.

A house explodes during a violent storm.

Hissing.

“Oh my God.”

I closed my eyes and drew deeply through my nose. Noted a hint of something harsh. Oily. The odor was subtle, but intensifying by the second. Gas. Without my flare I’d never have caught it.

I swung my head, testing for a scent trail.

The smell was trickling down the hallway.

A house explodes.

Gas.

The kitchen!

Headlights swept the room.

Hi shot forward and pressed his face to a window. “The driveway!”

I bolted for the kitchen. There the stench was overpowering.

My eyes shot to the stove. Saw the severed gas line.

The fireplace!

I tore back down the hall, terrified I was too late. “Everybody out!”

Hi tried the front door. “Locked! Deadbolt. No key!”

Ben shoved Hi aside. Golden eyes smoldering, he backed up three steps and charged, shoulder-slamming the door from its hinges. The forward motion tumbled him out onto the waterlogged grass.

The wind screamed as it swept into the living room, carrying a noxious perfume of salt, dead vegetation, garbage, and oil. Driving rain began drenching the carpet and furniture.

I frantically gestured to Hi and Shelton. “Go go go!”

They needed no urging. We shot out into the storm, Coop a half step behind us.

I heard a soft whiff, like an intake of breath.

Fire exploded from every window.

The force of the blast launched bricks and wooden slats high into the churning sky, tossing me forward like a Wiffle ball. I hit the ground and rolled, instinctively covering my head.

The boys were already sprawled across the lawn.

“Everyone okay?” I shouted. Three nods. The calmest corner of my mind noted the other Virals were still flaring.

Coop was circling me protectively, ears flat, fur wet and dancing in the gale.

Behind me, the house burned like a bonfire, defying the gallons of water plunging from the sky.

Slightly dazed, I glanced at the street.

The black F-150 was idling by the curb.

My flare vision pierced the truck’s rain-streaked windshield. I saw the Gamemaster, eyes wide, mouth a black oval of shock. He lips formed a single word: impossible.

Six canvas duffels were piled in the truck bed.

Facts snapped into place. How could I have been so blind?

The fire in the living room. The Dell. Headlights in the driveway.

We’d hoped the Gamemaster might return. Never suspected he hadn’t left.

The storage shed! We didn’t check the damn shed.

“Bastard!” Ben charged the truck.

Startled, the Gamemaster stomped the accelerator. Rainwater sluiced up from his tires as the F-150 careened down to the intersection and turned left.

Ben sprinted after, wet jeans molded to his legs, jacket sleeves flapping in the vicious wind. I watched truck and boy disappear around the corner.

“Ben, wait!”

My scream was swallowed by the storm.

Then a gray blur fired past me.

“Cooper, no!”

Ignoring me, the wolfdog charged in pursuit.

Shelton and Hi ran to my side.

“What should we do?” Hi was hunching to hold his ground in the swirling wind.

Shelton grabbed my arm. Shouted. “What did the Gamemaster mean about Ben?”

“I don’t know! We have to catch them!”

A trash can barreled down the street. Shingles flew from nearby roofs.

It was lunacy to be outside, but what choice did we have?

“Let’s go!” Rounding the corner, I spotted Ben a block ahead, running full tilt. Coop was loping a few yards behind. Even flaring, I couldn’t see the F-150.

Hurricane Katelyn was wholly unleashed.

Trees thrashed and writhed. Garbage and palm fronds swirled in the street and plastered walls and buildings. A fence post rolled down the sidewalk, followed by a plastic mailbox, a boot, and a clump of sodden magazines.

Horizontal rain filled my mouth and needled my skin.

Even flaring it was hard to see, to breathe.

We need every scrap of power. All we can access.

I motioned for Hi and Shelton to draw close.

Eyes shut, I focused on my flare. On the flaming cords linking our minds, the root of our psychic connection. Reaching deep, I drew from the hidden well of power I’d tapped to escape the grate.

Warmth permeated my limbs. The wind seemed slightly less murderous.

Instinctively, I spread the heat to my pack. Hi. Shelton. Coop. Even Ben.

Hi’s back straightened. Shelton stopped shivering.

“Stick close,” I yelled. “Harness your power.”

“Don’t burn out!” Hi shouted. “Without flares, we won’t make it ten feet.”

Together, we staggered to Spring Street, but Ben and Coop were nowhere to be seen. I watched dumbstruck as a gas station canopy ripped free and somersaulted into a Hardee’s drive-through.

“There!” Hi pointed toward the hospital. Flaring, he had best eyes. “I saw Ben!”