Hunger
Page 129
“We’re okay,” Jack said, and breathed a relieved sigh. “So far.”
“What’s that clicking?”
“Whenever it detects a radioactive particle, it clicks. If it starts clicking constantly, we’ll have a problem. There’s a tone when it gets to dangerous levels.”
Even now, Jack loved showing off his geek knowledge. Even knowing what was happening, what had happened. Guessing, at least, what was ahead.
“What you hear now is just background radiation.”
“Let’s get out of here,” Caine said. “Fire climbs. We need to stay ahead of it.”
They climbed the hill. The fire did not catch them. It didn’t seem to be spreading. Maybe because there was no wind.
Down the other side to the highway.
No one had come after them. Sam was nowhere to be seen.
They rested—collapsed was more like it—inside an Enterprise Rent-a-Car office. The two soldiers went on a search through dusty desks and file cabinets, looking for food.
One triumphantly produced a small tin of hard peppermints. There were nine mints. Enough for everyone to have one, and then to salivate over the remaining four.
“Time to get a car,” Caine announced. He had “parked” the fuel rod outside, leaning it against the exterior wall. “We need something with an open top.”
He held up one of the peppermints for the two soldiers to see. “This goes to whoever finds me the best vehicle, with keys.”
The two thugs raced for the door. Diana’s stomach cramped, wringing a cry from her. A small piece of candy did not cure hunger, it sharpened it.
There were no lights in the office. None on the highway outside. Darkness in every direction except for the pale light of non-stars and a non-moon.
They slumped on sagging office chairs and propped weary feet on the desks.
Diana began laughing.
“Something funny?’ Caine asked.
“We’re sitting in the dark, willing to sell our souls for another peppermint, with enough uranium to give a terrorist a wet dream.” She wiped tears from her eyes. “No, nothing’s funny about that.”
“Shut up, Diana,” Caine said wearily.
Diana wondered if using his telekinetic power to “carry” the fuel rod was tiring him out. Maybe.
Diana forced herself to stand up. She went to Caine and put her hand on his shoulder. “Caine.”
“Don’t start,” Caine said.
“You don’t have to do this,” Diana said.
Caine didn’t answer.
One of the soldiers stuck his head in. “I found an Escalade. Keys are inside, but it’s locked.”
“Jack? Go open the car for him,” Caine ordered. “While you’re at it, rip the roof off.”
“Do I get a mint?” Jack asked.
Diana laughed out loud, a borderline hysterical sound.
“What do you think your little friend in the desert will do once you’ve given it what it wants?” When Caine didn’t answer, Diana said, in a puzzled tone, “By the way, should I be saying ‘it,’ or is it a ‘he’?”
Caine covered his face with his hands.
“Does he have a nickname?” Diana went on remorselessly. “I mean, ‘gaiaphage’ is so long. Can we call him phage? Or maybe just ‘G’?”
From outside came the sound of metal ripping, glass shattering. Jack converting an SUV into a convertible.
“The ‘G’ monster,” Diana said.
Seconds later, the door burst inward. Jack.
“Someone’s coming,” Jack said urgently. “Coming right down the road.”
“Driving?” Caine demanded, leaping up.
“No. We just heard footsteps, like someone running.”
Diana’s heart leaped. Sam. It had to be Sam.
But at the same time, she felt dread. She wanted Caine stopped. She did not want him killed.
Caine ran outside, Diana right behind him, and gunfire erupted. The two soldiers firing blindly down the highway. Bright yellow fire from the muzzles, a deafening noise, and off in the impenetrable gloom the sound of a voice cursing, yelling at them to stop it, followed by furious cursing.
“Stop shooting, you stupid idiots!” Caine roared.
The firing stopped.
“Is that you, Drake?” one of the soldiers called out, shaky and scared.
“I’m going to whip the skin off you!” Drake bellowed.
The gaunt psychopath appeared, eyes glittering in moonlight, hair wild. He was moving strangely, cradling his whip hand with his other hand.
There was something odd about it. Diana couldn’t figure out what.
“What kept you?” Caine asked.
“What kept me? Sam. I took him down,” Drake said. “Me. I whipped him and tore him up and he will never recover, never, not after what—”
“Whoa,” Jack said, so shocked, he dared to interrupt Drake in mid-rant. “Your . . . your thing.”
Diana saw then the way Drake’s tentacle ended in a flat surface, a stump.
And then, to Diana’s astonishment, Drake sobbed. Just once. Just one stifled sob. He is human, after all, Diana thought. Barely. But capable of fear, capable of feeling pain.
“You didn’t kill him?” Caine asked Drake.
“I told you,” Drake yelled. “He’s done for!”
Caine shook his head. “If you didn’t kill him, he’s not done for. In fact, it looks kind of like the last time you fought Sam: you with part of you missing.”
“What’s that clicking?”
“Whenever it detects a radioactive particle, it clicks. If it starts clicking constantly, we’ll have a problem. There’s a tone when it gets to dangerous levels.”
Even now, Jack loved showing off his geek knowledge. Even knowing what was happening, what had happened. Guessing, at least, what was ahead.
“What you hear now is just background radiation.”
“Let’s get out of here,” Caine said. “Fire climbs. We need to stay ahead of it.”
They climbed the hill. The fire did not catch them. It didn’t seem to be spreading. Maybe because there was no wind.
Down the other side to the highway.
No one had come after them. Sam was nowhere to be seen.
They rested—collapsed was more like it—inside an Enterprise Rent-a-Car office. The two soldiers went on a search through dusty desks and file cabinets, looking for food.
One triumphantly produced a small tin of hard peppermints. There were nine mints. Enough for everyone to have one, and then to salivate over the remaining four.
“Time to get a car,” Caine announced. He had “parked” the fuel rod outside, leaning it against the exterior wall. “We need something with an open top.”
He held up one of the peppermints for the two soldiers to see. “This goes to whoever finds me the best vehicle, with keys.”
The two thugs raced for the door. Diana’s stomach cramped, wringing a cry from her. A small piece of candy did not cure hunger, it sharpened it.
There were no lights in the office. None on the highway outside. Darkness in every direction except for the pale light of non-stars and a non-moon.
They slumped on sagging office chairs and propped weary feet on the desks.
Diana began laughing.
“Something funny?’ Caine asked.
“We’re sitting in the dark, willing to sell our souls for another peppermint, with enough uranium to give a terrorist a wet dream.” She wiped tears from her eyes. “No, nothing’s funny about that.”
“Shut up, Diana,” Caine said wearily.
Diana wondered if using his telekinetic power to “carry” the fuel rod was tiring him out. Maybe.
Diana forced herself to stand up. She went to Caine and put her hand on his shoulder. “Caine.”
“Don’t start,” Caine said.
“You don’t have to do this,” Diana said.
Caine didn’t answer.
One of the soldiers stuck his head in. “I found an Escalade. Keys are inside, but it’s locked.”
“Jack? Go open the car for him,” Caine ordered. “While you’re at it, rip the roof off.”
“Do I get a mint?” Jack asked.
Diana laughed out loud, a borderline hysterical sound.
“What do you think your little friend in the desert will do once you’ve given it what it wants?” When Caine didn’t answer, Diana said, in a puzzled tone, “By the way, should I be saying ‘it,’ or is it a ‘he’?”
Caine covered his face with his hands.
“Does he have a nickname?” Diana went on remorselessly. “I mean, ‘gaiaphage’ is so long. Can we call him phage? Or maybe just ‘G’?”
From outside came the sound of metal ripping, glass shattering. Jack converting an SUV into a convertible.
“The ‘G’ monster,” Diana said.
Seconds later, the door burst inward. Jack.
“Someone’s coming,” Jack said urgently. “Coming right down the road.”
“Driving?” Caine demanded, leaping up.
“No. We just heard footsteps, like someone running.”
Diana’s heart leaped. Sam. It had to be Sam.
But at the same time, she felt dread. She wanted Caine stopped. She did not want him killed.
Caine ran outside, Diana right behind him, and gunfire erupted. The two soldiers firing blindly down the highway. Bright yellow fire from the muzzles, a deafening noise, and off in the impenetrable gloom the sound of a voice cursing, yelling at them to stop it, followed by furious cursing.
“Stop shooting, you stupid idiots!” Caine roared.
The firing stopped.
“Is that you, Drake?” one of the soldiers called out, shaky and scared.
“I’m going to whip the skin off you!” Drake bellowed.
The gaunt psychopath appeared, eyes glittering in moonlight, hair wild. He was moving strangely, cradling his whip hand with his other hand.
There was something odd about it. Diana couldn’t figure out what.
“What kept you?” Caine asked.
“What kept me? Sam. I took him down,” Drake said. “Me. I whipped him and tore him up and he will never recover, never, not after what—”
“Whoa,” Jack said, so shocked, he dared to interrupt Drake in mid-rant. “Your . . . your thing.”
Diana saw then the way Drake’s tentacle ended in a flat surface, a stump.
And then, to Diana’s astonishment, Drake sobbed. Just once. Just one stifled sob. He is human, after all, Diana thought. Barely. But capable of fear, capable of feeling pain.
“You didn’t kill him?” Caine asked Drake.
“I told you,” Drake yelled. “He’s done for!”
Caine shook his head. “If you didn’t kill him, he’s not done for. In fact, it looks kind of like the last time you fought Sam: you with part of you missing.”
