Hunger
Page 91
Would he smell it? Would he know that she had sealed his fate? Did he even have a nose?
Lana paid out the fuse she’d made. It was a hundred feet of thin rope she’d soaked in gasoline. She’d kept it in a Ziploc bag.
She took a coil and tossed it into the dark of the mine. It didn’t have to reach far.
She carried the rest with her, back into the cabin of the truck. She stepped on the brake, turning on the brake lights and illuminating the shaft in hellish red. It was impossible to see the gas, of course.
Lana waited, hands gripping the steering wheel. Her thoughts were a jumble of disconnected images, wild jump-cuts of her captivity with the coyotes and her encounters with the Darkness.
The first time she had—
I am the Gaiaphage.
Lana froze.
You cannot destroy me.
Lana could barely breathe. She thought she might pass out. The Darkness had never before spoken its name.
I brought you here.
Lana reached into her pocket and fingered the lighter. It was simple physics. The lighter would light. The gasoline-soaked rope would burn. The flame would race down the rope until it reached the gas vapor.
The gas would ignite.
The explosion would shatter the ceiling and walls of the shaft.
It might even incinerate the creature.
It might kill her, too. But if she survived, she would be able to heal any burns or injuries. That was her bet: if she could simply stay alive for a few minutes, she would be able to heal herself.
And then she would be truly healed. The voice in her head would be gone.
You do my will.
“I am Lana Arwen Lazar,” she cried with all the shrill force she could manage.
“My dad was into comic books, so he named me Lana for Superman’s girlfriend Lana Lang.”
You will serve me.
“And my mom added Arwen for the elf princess in The Lord of the Rings.”
I will use your power as my own.
“And I never, ever do what I’m told.”
Your power will give me shape. I will feed. Grow strong again. And with the body I will form using your power, I will escape this place.
Your power will give me freedom.
Lana was shaking. The gasoline smelled, and the fumes were making her woozy.
Now or never. Now.
Never.
“Pack Leader!” Lana shouted. “Pack Leader! I’m going to blow this mine to hell, Pack Leader. Do you hear me?”
“Pack Leader hears,” the coyote sneered.
“You get yourself and your filthy animals out of here or you’ll die with the Darkness.”
Pack Leader leaped heavily onto the hood. His fur was up, the ripped mouth slavering. “Pack Leader fears no human.”
Lana snapped the pistol up and fired. Point-blank range.
The sound was stunning.
In the glass there was a hole surrounded by a star pattern, but the glass did not blow out like the rear window had.
Blood sprayed across the glass.
Pack Leader yelped and jumped clumsily from the hood, hit. Hurt.
Lana’s heart jumped. She’d hit him. A solid, direct hit this time.
But the glass was still there. It was supposed to shatter. It was her only escape route.
Your power will give me freedom.
“I’ll give you death!” Lana raged.
Lana took the pistol and used it like a hammer, beating on the glass, breaking it out, but only a little at a time. She kicked at it, frantic. It gave, but too slowly.
The coyotes could take her if they made a concerted attack.
But the coyotes held off. The injury of their leader had left them confused and rudderless.
Lana kicked, crazy now, panicked.
You will die.
“As long as you die with me!” Lana screamed.
A big section of the safety glass gave way, folding out like a stiff-frozen blanket.
Lana began pushing through. Head. Shoulders.
A coyote lunged.
She fired.
She pushed the rest of the way out, scratched, skin ripped, oblivious to the pain. On hands and knees on the hood. She had to fumble for the rope. Rope in one hand, greasy. Gun in the other, stinking of cordite.
She fired wildly. Once, twice, three times, bullets chipping rock. The coyotes broke and ran.
She laid the pistol on the hood.
She fumbled the lighter from her pocket.
No.
She struck the lighter.
The flame was tiny and orange.
You will not.
Lana brought the flame toward the rope’s end.
Stop.
Lana hesitated.
“Yes,” Lana breathed.
You can not.
“I can,” Lana sobbed.
You are mine.
The flame burned her thumb. But the pain was nothing, nothing next to the sudden, catastrophic pain like an explosion in her head.
Lana cried out.
She clasped her hands over her ears. The lighter singed her hair.
She dropped the rope.
She dropped the lighter.
Lana had never imagined such pain. As if her brain had been scooped out and her skull filled with burning, white-hot coals.
Lana screamed in agony and rolled off the hood.
She screamed and screamed and knew that she would never stop.
TWENTY-NINE
16 HOURS, 33 MINUTES
“WE CAN WAIT him out,” Edilio said to Sam. “Just sit tight here. You could even catch a few Zs.”
“Do I look that bad?” Sam asked. Edilio didn’t answer.
“Edilio’s right, boss,” Dekka said. “Let’s just sit tight and wait. Maybe Brianna will . . .” She couldn’t finish, and turned away quickly.
Lana paid out the fuse she’d made. It was a hundred feet of thin rope she’d soaked in gasoline. She’d kept it in a Ziploc bag.
She took a coil and tossed it into the dark of the mine. It didn’t have to reach far.
She carried the rest with her, back into the cabin of the truck. She stepped on the brake, turning on the brake lights and illuminating the shaft in hellish red. It was impossible to see the gas, of course.
Lana waited, hands gripping the steering wheel. Her thoughts were a jumble of disconnected images, wild jump-cuts of her captivity with the coyotes and her encounters with the Darkness.
The first time she had—
I am the Gaiaphage.
Lana froze.
You cannot destroy me.
Lana could barely breathe. She thought she might pass out. The Darkness had never before spoken its name.
I brought you here.
Lana reached into her pocket and fingered the lighter. It was simple physics. The lighter would light. The gasoline-soaked rope would burn. The flame would race down the rope until it reached the gas vapor.
The gas would ignite.
The explosion would shatter the ceiling and walls of the shaft.
It might even incinerate the creature.
It might kill her, too. But if she survived, she would be able to heal any burns or injuries. That was her bet: if she could simply stay alive for a few minutes, she would be able to heal herself.
And then she would be truly healed. The voice in her head would be gone.
You do my will.
“I am Lana Arwen Lazar,” she cried with all the shrill force she could manage.
“My dad was into comic books, so he named me Lana for Superman’s girlfriend Lana Lang.”
You will serve me.
“And my mom added Arwen for the elf princess in The Lord of the Rings.”
I will use your power as my own.
“And I never, ever do what I’m told.”
Your power will give me shape. I will feed. Grow strong again. And with the body I will form using your power, I will escape this place.
Your power will give me freedom.
Lana was shaking. The gasoline smelled, and the fumes were making her woozy.
Now or never. Now.
Never.
“Pack Leader!” Lana shouted. “Pack Leader! I’m going to blow this mine to hell, Pack Leader. Do you hear me?”
“Pack Leader hears,” the coyote sneered.
“You get yourself and your filthy animals out of here or you’ll die with the Darkness.”
Pack Leader leaped heavily onto the hood. His fur was up, the ripped mouth slavering. “Pack Leader fears no human.”
Lana snapped the pistol up and fired. Point-blank range.
The sound was stunning.
In the glass there was a hole surrounded by a star pattern, but the glass did not blow out like the rear window had.
Blood sprayed across the glass.
Pack Leader yelped and jumped clumsily from the hood, hit. Hurt.
Lana’s heart jumped. She’d hit him. A solid, direct hit this time.
But the glass was still there. It was supposed to shatter. It was her only escape route.
Your power will give me freedom.
“I’ll give you death!” Lana raged.
Lana took the pistol and used it like a hammer, beating on the glass, breaking it out, but only a little at a time. She kicked at it, frantic. It gave, but too slowly.
The coyotes could take her if they made a concerted attack.
But the coyotes held off. The injury of their leader had left them confused and rudderless.
Lana kicked, crazy now, panicked.
You will die.
“As long as you die with me!” Lana screamed.
A big section of the safety glass gave way, folding out like a stiff-frozen blanket.
Lana began pushing through. Head. Shoulders.
A coyote lunged.
She fired.
She pushed the rest of the way out, scratched, skin ripped, oblivious to the pain. On hands and knees on the hood. She had to fumble for the rope. Rope in one hand, greasy. Gun in the other, stinking of cordite.
She fired wildly. Once, twice, three times, bullets chipping rock. The coyotes broke and ran.
She laid the pistol on the hood.
She fumbled the lighter from her pocket.
No.
She struck the lighter.
The flame was tiny and orange.
You will not.
Lana brought the flame toward the rope’s end.
Stop.
Lana hesitated.
“Yes,” Lana breathed.
You can not.
“I can,” Lana sobbed.
You are mine.
The flame burned her thumb. But the pain was nothing, nothing next to the sudden, catastrophic pain like an explosion in her head.
Lana cried out.
She clasped her hands over her ears. The lighter singed her hair.
She dropped the rope.
She dropped the lighter.
Lana had never imagined such pain. As if her brain had been scooped out and her skull filled with burning, white-hot coals.
Lana screamed in agony and rolled off the hood.
She screamed and screamed and knew that she would never stop.
TWENTY-NINE
16 HOURS, 33 MINUTES
“WE CAN WAIT him out,” Edilio said to Sam. “Just sit tight here. You could even catch a few Zs.”
“Do I look that bad?” Sam asked. Edilio didn’t answer.
“Edilio’s right, boss,” Dekka said. “Let’s just sit tight and wait. Maybe Brianna will . . .” She couldn’t finish, and turned away quickly.
