Gone Series Complete Collection (41 page)

“Sorry,” Caine said. “But I still need you, Drake. Even one-handed.”

There was the sound of someone bursting into the room. “All I could find was Tylenol and Advil,” Computer Jack said.

“Let’s get this over with,” Diana snapped.

Impatient to maim him. Looking forward to it.

“You do this, he’s going to kill you,” Panda warned.

“Oh, Drake’s already decided he wants to do that,” Diana said. “Tighten the tourniquet.”

“He’s going to bleed to death,” Jack warned. “There must be big arteries in his arm.”

“He’s right,” Caine said. “We need a way to seal the stump.”

“It’s already cauterized,” Diana said. “I just need to cut below the burn.”

“Yeah, okay,” Caine agreed.

“I can’t reach him through your force field,” Diana said. “Can you pull it back to keep his left side paralyzed, and maybe Panda and some of these other supposedly tough guys can grab on to his stump.”

“Let me get a towel, at least. I don’t want to touch that,” Panda said with revulsion.

“Nobody cuts my arm,” Drake rasped. “I’ll kill anyone who touches me.”

“Let him up, Caine,” Diana snapped.

The elephant was off Drake’s chest, he could move again. But now Diana’s face was inches from his, her dark hair hanging down on his tear-streaked face.

“Listen, you stupid thug,” Diana said. “We’re cutting off the pain. As long as that burned stump is there, you’ll be like this. You’ll be screaming and crying and wetting your pants. Yeah, you’ve peed yourself, Drake.”

Somehow that fact shocked Drake into silence.

“You have one hope. Just one. That we cut off the dead part of your arm and do it without starting the bleeding again.”

“Anyone cuts me dies,” Drake said.

Diana pulled back, out of Drake’s view.

Caine said, “Do it. Panda. Chunk. Grab that stump.”

The pressure was on Drake again, immobilizing him. He didn’t feel the towel that was wrapped around his arm or the grip of hands. That part of his arm was naked bone, all flesh melted away, nerves burned off, dead. The pain started higher up, where just enough nerve endings still survived to slam his fevered brain with wave upon wave of agony.

“It’s not Diana or Panda or Chunk or even me,” Caine said. “It’s none of us, Drake. It’s Sam. It’s Sam who did this to you, Drake. You want him to get away with it? Or do you want to live long enough to make him suffer?”

Drake heard a shimmery, metallic sound. The saw was too big for Diana to handle easily. The blade wobbled a little as she lined it up.

“Okay,” Diana said. “Hold on to him. I’ll be as quick as I can be.”

Drake lost consciousness, but his dreams were as pain-racked as his waking. He weaved in and out, awake and screaming, asleep and crying.

He heard a distant thump as his arm dropped to the floor.

And then a sudden frenzy of running and yelling, shouted orders and confusion, a flash of Diana threading a needle with bloody fingers. Hands all over him, the pressure squeezing the air from his lungs.

Staring up from the bottom of a deep well, Drake saw lunatic faces looking down at him, eyes wild, bloody faces like monsters.

“He’ll live, I think,” a voice said.

“God help us if he lives,” a voice said.

“No. God help Sam Temple.”

And then nothing.

“Astrid, I need you to start talking to these kids,” Sam said. “Find out their powers. Find out how much control they have. We’re looking for anyone who might be able to help in a fight.”

Astrid looked uncomfortable. “Me? Shouldn’t Edilio be doing that?”

“I have a different job for Edilio.”

They were in the plaza, sitting wearily on the steps of town hall, Sam, Astrid, Little Pete, and Edilio. Quinn was gone, no one knew where. The liberated Coates kids—the Coates Freaks, as they now proudly called themselves—had been fed at Ralph’s and were being fed again by Albert, who was walking among them handing out burgers. Some of the kids had eaten too much all at once and had thrown up. But most still had room for a hamburger—even if it was on a toasted chocolate chip waffle.

Lana was just about finished healing the hands of the refugees. She was staggering from exhaustion and finally, as Sam watched, her legs folded under her and she fell to the grass. Before he could even get up to help, some of the Coates kids stretched her out with gentleness bordering on reverence. They rolled jackets to make her a pillow and borrowed a blanket from a tattered pup tent to spread over her.

“Okay, I’ll talk to them,” Astrid said. But she still looked reluctant. “I can’t read people like Diana does.”

“That’s what’s bothering you? You’re not my Diana. And hopefully I’m not Caine.”

“I guess I was hoping this would all kind of be over. At least for a while.”

“I think it will be over. For a while. But first we have to plan and make sure we’re ready when Caine comes back.”

“You’re right.” She smiled wanly. “Anyway, it’s not like I was dreaming of a big meal, a hot shower, and hours and hours of sleep.”

“Yeah. You wouldn’t want to start getting soft now, would you?” Something else occurred to him. “But hey, keep L. P. happy, huh? I don’t want you disappearing suddenly.”

“That would be a shame, wouldn’t it?” she said dryly. “Maybe I’ll try Quinn’s trick: Hawaii, Petey, Hawaii.”

Astrid rounded up her brother, made sure he was okay, then plunged into the crowd.

Sam motioned Edilio closer. “Edilio. I have something I need you to do.”

“Whatever you want.”

“It involves driving. And it involves keeping a secret.”

“The secret is no problem. Driving?” He gulped theatrically, like a cartoon character doing a double take.

“I need you to get a truck and go to the power plant.” He explained what he wanted, and Edilio’s expression grew darker with each word. When he was done, Sam asked, “Can you handle that? You’ll need to take at least one other guy with you.”

“I can do it,” Edilio said. “I’m not happy about it, but you know that.”

“Who will you take with you?”

“Elwood, I guess, if Dahra will let me borrow him.”

“Okay. Go take an hour or two to figure out how to drive.”

“A day or two more like it,” Edilio said. But then he executed a mock salute and said, “No problem, General.”

Sam sat alone now, shoulders hunched, head buzzing from lack of sleep and the aftereffects of pain and fear. He needed to think, he told himself, needed to prepare. Caine would be planning.

Caine. His brother.

His brother.

How long did he have? Three days.

In three days he would . . . disappear.

And so would Caine.

Maybe die. Maybe be changed in some way. Maybe just pop neatly back into the old universe with lots of incredible stories to tell.

And leave Astrid behind.

If Caine had been a normal, well-adjusted person, he might spend his last days preparing for whatever the poof meant—death, disappearance, escape. But Sam doubted Caine would do that. Caine would need to triumph over Sam. That need would be even greater than the need to be ready for the end.

“I never have liked birthdays,” Sam muttered.

Albert Hillsborough had finished handing out burgers to grateful Coates kids. He climbed the steps to Sam.

“Glad you’re back, man,” Albert said.

For some reason, Sam felt compelled to stand and offer his hand to the kid. Albert shook it solemnly.

“It’s cool what you’ve done, keeping the Mickey D’s open.”

Albert looked faintly annoyed. “We don’t call it Mickey D’s. It’s McDonald’s. It will always be McDonald’s. Although,” he allowed, “I’ve strayed pretty far from the standard operating manual.”

“I saw the waffle-burgers.”

There was something on Albert’s mind. Whatever it was, Sam didn’t have the time or the energy, but Albert was becoming an important person, someone not to blow off. “What’s up, Albert?”

“Well, I’ve done inventory at Ralph’s, and I think if I had a lot of help, I could put together an okay Thanksgiving dinner.”

Sam stared at him. He blinked. “What?”

“Thanksgiving. It’s next week.”

“Uh-huh.”

“There are ovens at Ralph’s, big ones. And no one has taken the frozen turkeys. Figure two hundred and fifty kids if pretty much everyone from Perdido Beach shows up, right? One turkey will feed maybe eight people, so we need thirty-one, thirty-two turkeys. No problem there, because there are forty-six turkeys at Ralph’s.”

“Thirty-one turkeys?”

“Cranberry sauce will be no problem, stuffing is no problem, no one has taken much stuffing yet, although I’ll have to figure out how to mix, like, seven different brands and styles together, see how it tastes.”

“Stuffing,” Sam echoed solemnly.

“We don’t have enough canned yams, we’ll have to do fresh along with some baked potatoes. The big problem is going to be whipped cream and ice cream for the pies.”

Sam wanted to burst out laughing, but at the same time he found it touching and reassuring that Albert had put so much thought into the question.

“I imagine the ice cream is pretty much gone,” Sam said.

“Yeah. We’re very low on ice cream. And kids have been taking the canned whipped cream, too.”

“But we can have pie?”

“We have some frozen. And we have some pie shells we can bake up ourselves.”

“That would be nice,” Sam said.

“I’ll need to start three days before. I’ll need, like, at least ten people to help. I can haul the tables out of the church basement and set up in the plaza. I think I can do it.”

“I’ll bet you can, Albert,” Sam said with feeling.

“Mother Mary’s going to have the prees make centerpieces.”

“Listen, Albert . . .”

Albert raised a hand, cutting Sam off. “I know. I mean, I know we may have some great big fight before that. And I heard you have your fifteenth coming up. All kinds of bad stuff may happen. But, Sam—”

This time, Sam cut him off. “Albert? Get moving on planning the big meal.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It will give people something to look forward to.”

Albert left, and Sam fought down a yawn. He noticed Astrid deep in conversation with three of the Coates kids. Astrid had been through all kinds of horror, he thought, but somehow, even with her blouse filthy, her blond hair hanging lank and greasy, her face smudged, she looked beautiful.

When he raised his gaze he could see across the plaza, across the buildings at the far end, clear out to the ocean, the too-placid ocean.

Birthday. Thanksgiving. Poof. And a showdown with Caine. Not to mention just daily life if they somehow all survived. Not to mention finding a way to escape or end the FAYZ. And all he wanted to do was take Astrid’s hand and lead her down to the beach, stretch a blanket out on the hot sand, lie down beside her, and sleep for about a month.

“Right after the big Thanksgiving dinner,” Sam promised himself. “Right after pie.”

THIRTY-SEVEN

79
HOURS
, 00
MINUTES

COOKIE ROLLED
OVER
and stood up. His legs were still weak and shaky. He had to hold himself up by leaning on the table.

But he steadied himself with the arm that had been utterly shattered.

Dahra Baidoo was there, and Elwood, both staring like they were witnessing a miracle.

“I suppose they are,” Lana said to herself.

“It doesn’t hurt,” Cookie said.

He laughed. It was an incredulous, disbelieving sound. He rotated his arm, all the way forward, all the way up. He squeezed his fingers into a fist.

“It doesn’t hurt.”

“Okay, I never thought I’d see that,” Elwood said, shaking his head slowly.

Tears came to Cookie’s bloodshot eyes. He whispered to himself, “It doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t hurt at all.”

He took a tentative step. Then another. He had lost a lot of weight. He was pale, and more than pale, almost green. He was shaky, a bear walking on its hind legs and about to topple over. He looked like what he was: a kid who’d taken a round trip to hell.

“Thank you,” he whispered to Lana. “Thank you.”

“It’s not my doing,” Lana said. “It’s just . . . I don’t know what it is.”

She was tired. Healing Cookie had taken a long time. She’d been in the hospital since eight o’clock that morning, having been awakened by Cookie’s cries of agony.

His injury was even worse than her own broken arm had been. It had taken her more than six hours, and now whatever benefit she’d gained from sleeping in the park was wasted, and she was weary again. Outside, she was pretty sure the sun was shining, but all she wanted now was a bed.

“It’s a thing I can do,” Lana said, fighting a yawn and stretching to get the kinks out of her back. “Just a . . . a thing.”

Cookie nodded. Then he did something no one expected. He got down on his knees before a shocked Dahra.

“You took care of me.”

Dahra shrugged and looked mightily uncomfortable. “It’s okay, Cookie.”

“No.” He took her hand awkwardly and leaned his forehead into her. “Anything you ever want. Anything. Anytime. Ever.” Tears choked his voice. “Anything.”

Dahra pulled him back to his feet. He had been as big and as heavy as Orc. He was still big enough to tower over Dahra. “You need to start eating,” she said.

“Yeah, eat,” Cookie said. “Then what do I do?”

Dahra looked a little exasperated. She said, “I don’t know, Cookie.”

Lana had an idea. “Go find Sam. There’s a fight coming.”

“I can fight,” Cookie confirmed. “As soon as I get some food down and, you know, kind of get my strength back.”

“McDonald’s is open,” Dahra said. “Try the French toast–burger. It’s better than it sounds.”

Cookie left. Dahra said, “Lana, I know it’s mostly about Cookie, but I feel like you saved my life, too. I’ve been losing my mind taking care of him.”

Lana was uncomfortable with gratitude. She always had been, even in small things. Now the idea that people were thanking her for performing near-miracles, that was preposterous. She said, “Do you know any place I could sleep? Like, in a bed?”