Gone Series Complete Collection (22 page)

The twins, Emma and Anna, brought up the rear. Sam knew them fairly well, having actually gone out with Anna on a date once. Emma had a single stroller, and Anna was pushing a Ralph’s grocery store cart loaded with snacks and diapers and baby bottles.

Sam stopped and waited for them to cross the street. They stuck to the crosswalk, which, he supposed, was a good thing. Best for the prees to learn to cross the street like there might be traffic. Some kids had been doing some driving, often with bad results. Caine had the rules on that too, now: no one was allowed to drive, except for some of Caine’s people and Edilio, who theoretically might have to drive the ambulance or the fire truck. If he ever figured out how.

“T’sup, Anna?” Sam asked politely.

“Hi, Sam. Where have you been?”

He shrugged. “Fire station. I kind of live there now.”

Anna pointed at the littles marching ahead of her. “Baby duty.”

“Drag,” Sam said.

“It’s okay. I don’t mind it.”

“And she’s great at it, too,” Mary called back encouragingly.

“I can change a diaper in under sixty seconds,” Anna said with a laugh. “Less, if it’s number one.”

“Where are you guys all going?”

“The beach. We’re going on a picnic.”

“Cool. See you later,” Sam said.

Anna waved over her shoulder as she passed.

“Hey, wish Anna and me happy birthday, Sam,” Emma called back.

“Happy birthday to both of you,” Sam said. He stood up on the bike’s pedals and picked up speed, heading for Astrid’s.

He felt a little sad thinking back on his one date with Anna. She was a nice girl. But he wasn’t all that interested in dating back then, that was the truth. He’d only gone out because he felt like it was required. He didn’t want kids to think he was a dork. And his mother kept asking about whether he was going out, so he had taken Anna to a movie. He remembered the movie, in fact:
Stardust
.

His mother had driven them. It was her night off. His mom had dropped them at the theater and picked them up afterward. He and Anna had gone to the California Pizza Kitchen and split a barbeque chicken pizza.

Birthday?

Sam jerked the bike into a sharp turn and pounded the pedals back, back toward where he’d passed the prees. It didn’t take long to catch them. They were just reaching the beach, all the toddlers toddling over the low seawall, laughing now as they took off their shoes and ran onto the sand and Mother Mary, sounding just like a teacher, yelled, “Hang on to your shoes, don’t lose your shoes, Alex, pick up your shoes and carry them.”

Anna and Emma had parked the shopping cart full of snacks and diapers and bottles. Emma was unbuckling her charge from the stroller.

“Check his diaper,” Mother Mary reminded her, and Emma did.

Sam threw his bike down and ran, breathless, to Anna.

“What’s up, Sam?”

“What birthday?” he panted.

“What?”

“What birthday, Anna?”

It took a while for her to absorb his fear. It took a while for the reason for his fear to dawn on her.

“Fifteen,” Anna said in a whisper.

“What’s the matter?” Emma asked, sensing her twin’s mood. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“It doesn’t,” Anna whispered.

“You’re probably right,” Sam said.

“Oh, my God,” Anna said. “Are we going to disappear?”

“When were you born?” Sam asked. “What time of day?”

The twins exchanged scared looks. “We don’t know.”

“You know what, no one has blinked out since that first day, so it’s probably—”

Emma disappeared.

Anna screamed.

The other older kids took notice, the littles, too.

“Oh, my God!” Anna cried. “Emma. Emma. Oh, God!”

She grabbed Sam’s hands and he held her tight.

The prees, some of them, caught the fear. Mother Mary came over. “What’s going on? You’re scaring the kids. Where’s Emma?”

Anna just kept saying, “Oh, my God,” and calling her sister’s name.

“Where’s Emma?” Mary demanded again. “What’s going on?”

Sam didn’t want to explain. Anna was hurting him with the pressure of her fingers digging into the backs of his hands. Anna’s eyes were huge, staring holes in him.

“How far apart were you born?” Sam asked.

Anna just stared in blank horror.

Sam lowered his voice to an urgent whisper. “How far apart were you born, Anna?”

“Six minutes,” she whispered.

“Hold my hands, Sam,” she said.

“Don’t let me go, Sam,” she said.

“I won’t, Anna, I won’t let you go,” Sam said.

“What’s going to happen, Sam?”

“I don’t know, Anna.”

“Will we go to where our mom and dad are?”

“I don’t know, Anna.”

“Am I going to die?”

“No, Anna. You’re not going to die.”

“Don’t let go of me, Sam.”

Mary was there now, a baby on her hip. John was there. The prees, some of them, watched with serious, worried looks on their faces.

“I don’t want to die,” Anna repeated. “I . . . I don’t know what it’s like.”

“It’s okay, Anna.”

Anna smiled. “That was a nice date. When we went out.”

“It was.”

For a split second it was like Anna blurred. Too fast to be real. She blurred, and Sam could almost swear that she had smiled at him.

And his fingers squeezed on nothing.

For a terribly long time no one moved or said anything.

The littles didn’t cry out. The older kids just stared.

Sam’s fingertips still remembered the feel of Anna’s hands. He stared at the place where her face had been. He could still see her pleading eyes.

Unable to stop himself, he reached a hand into the space she had occupied. Reaching for a face that was no longer there.

Someone sobbed.

Someone cried out, other voices, then the prees started crying.

Sam felt sick. When his teacher had disappeared he hadn’t been expecting it. This time he had seen it coming, like a monster in a slow-motion nightmare. This time he had seen it coming, like standing rooted on the railroad tracks, unable to jump aside.

TWENTY

131
HOURS
, 03
MINUTES

“
IT JUST
HAPPENED
,” Drake announced.

Caine sat in his over-large leather chair, the one that had formerly belonged to the mayor of Perdido Beach. It made him look small. It made him look very young. And to make matters worse, he was chewing on his thumbnail, which made it almost seem that he was sucking his thumb.

Diana was on the couch, lying back reading a magazine and barely paying attention. “What happened?”

“The two girls you had me following. They both just took the big jump. They poofed, as that idiot Quinn says.”

Caine jerked to his feet. “Just as I predicted. Just like I said.” Caine did not seem to be happy to have been proven right. He came around from behind his desk and to Drake’s great enjoyment, snatched the magazine out of Diana’s hand and threw it across the room. “You think maybe you could pay attention?”

Diana sighed and sat up slowly, brushed a piece of lint from her blouse. “Don’t get pissy with me, Caine,” she warned. “I’m the one who said we needed to start collecting birth certificates.”

Drake had made time to check out Diana’s psych file the day after the FAYZ came. But her file had been missing by then. In its place she had left Drake’s file lying open on the doc’s desk and drawn a little smiley face beside the word “sadist.”

Drake had already hated her. But after that, hating Diana had become a full-time occupation.

To Drake’s disgust, Caine accepted Diana’s back talk. “Yeah. That was a good idea,” Caine said. “A very good idea.”

“Diana’s boy Sam was there,” Drake said.

Diana did not respond to the provocation.

“He was holding the one girl’s hand when she bugged,” Drake added. “Looking right into her eyes. See, the first girl goes and they all know what’s coming at that point. The second girl, she was weepy over it. I was too far off to hear what she said, but you could tell she was basically wetting herself.”

“Sadism,” Diana said. “The enjoyment of another person’s pain.”

Drake stretched his shark grin. “Words don’t scare me.”

“You wouldn’t be a psychopath if they did, Drake.”

“Knock it off, you two,” Caine said. He slumped back in the oversized chair and started biting his thumb again. “It’s November seventeenth. I have five days to figure out how to beat this.”

“Five days,” Drake echoed.

“I don’t know what we’d do if you bugged out, Caine,” Drake said. He sent Diana a look that said he knew exactly what he would do if Caine wasn’t around anymore.

Computer Jack came bursting into the room in his usual flustered, goggle-eyed way, carrying an open laptop.

“What?” Caine snarled.

“I hacked it,” Computer Jack said proudly. When he got blank looks in reaction, he said, “Nurse Temple’s laptop.”

Caine looked nonplussed. “What? Oh. Great. I have bigger problems. Give it to Diana. And get out.”

Computer Jack handed the laptop to Diana and scuttled from the room.

“Scared little worm, isn’t he?” Drake said.

“Don’t mess with him. He’s useful,” Caine warned. “Drake. What did you see exactly when the girl . . . vacated?”

“The first one, I wasn’t looking right at her when it happened. The second one, I kept my eyes on her. One minute there, the next gone.”

“At one seventeen?”

Drake shrugged. “Close enough, anyway.”

Caine slammed his hand down on the desk. “I don’t want close enough, you idiot,” he shouted. “I’m trying to figure this out. You know, it’s not just me, Drake. We all get older. You’ll be there someday too, waiting to disappear.”

“April twelfth, just one minute after midnight, Drake,” Diana said. “Not that I’ve memorized the exact day, hour, and minute or . . .” She fell silent, reading the computer screen.

“What?” Caine asked.

Diana ignored him but it was clear that she had found something of great interest in the diary of Connie Temple. Diana rose with swift, feline grace and yanked open the file cabinet. She pulled the gray metal box out and placed it almost reverently on Caine’s desk.

“No one’s opened it yet?” she demanded.

“I was more interested in Nurse Temple’s laptop,” Caine said. “Why?”

“Be useful, Drake,” Diana ordered. “Break this lock.”

Drake grabbed a letter opener, inserted the blade in the cheap lock, and twisted. The lock broke.

Diana opened the box. “This looks like a will. And, ah, this is interesting, a newspaper clipping about the school bus thing we’ve all heard about. And . . . here it is.”

She held up a plastic folder protecting an elaborately printed birth certificate. She stared at it and started laughing.

“That’s enough, Diana,” Caine warned. He jumped up and yanked the birth certificate from her hand. He stared, frowning. Then he sat down hard, like he was a marionette and someone had cut his strings.

“November twenty-second,” Diana said, grinning spitefully.

“Coincidence,” Caine said.

“He’s three minutes older than you.”

“It’s a coincidence. We don’t look alike.”

“What’s the word for twins who aren’t identical?” Diana put her finger to her mouth, a parody of deep thought. “Oh yeah, fraternal twins. Same womb, same parents, different eggs.”

Caine looked like he might faint. Drake had never seen him like that. “It’s impossible.”

“Neither of you knows your real father,” Diana said. Now she was playing nice, as close to sympathetic as she ever managed to be. “And how many times have you told me you don’t seem to be anything like your parents, Caine?”

“It makes no sense,” Caine breathed. He reached for Diana’s hand and after a hesitation, she let him take it.

“What are you two talking about?” Drake demanded. He didn’t enjoy being the one person not in on the joke. But they both ignored him.

“It’s in the diary, too,” Diana said. “Nurse Temple. She knew you were a mutant. She suspected you had some kind of impossible power, and she was obviously onto some of the others, as well. She suspected you of causing half a dozen injuries where no one could ever figure out a cause.”

Drake barked a laugh, catching on. “Are you saying Nurse Temple was Caine’s mother?”

Caine’s face blazed in sudden rage. “Shut up, Drake.”

“Two little boys born on November twenty-second,” Diana said. “One stays with his mother. One is taken away, adopted by another family.”

“She was your mother and she gave you up and kept Sam?” Drake said, laughing in his enjoyment of Caine’s humiliation.

Caine swiveled away from Diana and extended his hands, palms out, toward Drake.

“Mistake,” Diana said, though whether she was talking to Drake or Caine wasn’t clear.

Something slammed Drake’s chest. It was like being hit by a truck. He was lifted off his feet and thrown against the wall. He smashed a pair of framed prints and fell in a heap.

He made himself shake it off. He wanted to jump up and go for Caine, finish him quick before the freak could hit him again. But Caine was there, looming over him, face red, teeth bared, looking like a mad dog.

“Remember who’s the boss, Drake,” Caine said, his voice low, guttural, like it was coming from an animal.

Drake nodded, beaten. For now.

“Get up,” Caine ordered. “We have work to do.”

Astrid was on the front porch with Little Pete. It was the best place to get some sun. She sat in the big white wicker rocker with her feet propped up on the railing. Her bare legs were blazing white in the sunshine. She had always been pale and was never the kind of person who obsessed over a tan, but she was feeling the need for sunlight today. Days with Little Pete tended to be spent indoors. And after a couple of days of that, the house was turning into a prison.

She wondered if this was how her mother had felt. Did it explain why her mother had gone from spending her every day and every night devoting herself to Little Pete to finding any excuse she could to dump him on anyone who would take him?