Lies
Page 70
“Me neither,” Lana said. “It was there with me. In my mind. I could feel it…using…me.” She looked ashamed. Embarrassed. And then her eyes flashed angrily. “Ask your brother, he’s in with all of them, Sam and Astrid and Albert. At the same time Sam is asking me whether the gaiaphage is still its old lovable self and council kids are asking other kids to run around dissing Orsay and making sure no one thinks anything’s wrong.”
“John would never lie to me,” Mary said, but with a lack of conviction even she could hear.
“Uh-huh. Something’s going wrong. Something’s going really, really wrong,” Lana said. “And now? The town is half burned and Caine’s stealing a boat and heading out to sea. What does that tell you?”
Mary sighed. “I’m too tired for guessing games, Lana.”
Lana stood up. She flicked her cigarette away. “Just remember: the FAYZ is working out fine for some people. You ever think about what would happen if the walls came down tomorrow? That would be good news for you. Good for most people. But would it be good for Sam and Astrid and Albert? Here they’re big deals. Back in the world they’re just kids.”
Lana waited, watching Mary closely. Like she was waiting for her to say something or react. Or deny. Something.
All Mary could think to do was say, “John is on the council.”
“Exactly. So, maybe you should ask him what’s really going on. Because, me? I don’t know.”
Mary had no answer to that.
Lana squared her shoulders and headed back toward the hell of the basement. She turned halfway down and said, “One other thing I almost forgot: this one kid? He said Brittney wasn’t the only officially dead person walking around in the fire.”
Mary waited. She tried not to show anything, but Lana had already seen it in her eyes.
“Ah,” Lana said. “So you saw him, too.”
Lana nodded once and was gone down the stairs.
The Darkness. Mary had only heard of it from others. Like stories of a boogeyman. Lana said it had used her.
Did Lana not see? Or did she simply refuse to see? If it were true that Brittney was somehow alive, that Drake was alive, too, then Mary could guess just how the gaiaphage had used Lana’s power.
THIRTY-ONE
9 HOURS, 17 MINUTES
ASTRID HAD WAITED all night for Sam to come back.
Waited all morning.
Smelling the stink of smoke.
From the office in town hall she saw the fire spread the length of Sherman, down the west side of Sheridan, down the single block of Grant Street, and two blocks of Pacific Boulevard.
It seemed certain to reach the plaza. But finally the fire’s march stalled.
Now the flames were mostly out, but a plume of smoke continued to rise.
Little Pete was asleep in the corner, curled into a ball with a ratty blanket thrown over him. His game player was on the floor beside him.
Astrid felt a towering wave of disgust. She was furious with Sam. Furious with Little Pete. Mad at the whole world around her. Sickened by everyone and everything.
And mostly, she admitted, sick of herself.
So desperately sick of being Astrid the Genius.
“Some genius,” she muttered. The town council, headed by that blond girl, what was her name? Oh right: Astrid. Astrid the Genius. Head of the town council that had let half the town burn to the ground.
Down in the basement of town hall Dahra Baidoo handed out scarce ibuprofen and expired Tylenol to kids with burns, like that would pretty much fix anything, as they waited for Lana to go one by one, healing with her touch.
Astrid could hear the cries of pain. There were several floors between her and the makeshift hospital. Not enough floors.
Edilio staggered in. He was barely recognizable. He was black with soot, dirty, dusty, with ragged scratches and scrapes and clothing hanging in shreds.
“I think we got it,” he said, and lay straight down on the floor.
Astrid knelt by his head. “You have it contained?”
But Edilio was beyond answering. He was unconscious. Done in.
Howard appeared next, in only slightly better shape. Some time during the night and morning he’d lost his smirk. He glanced at Edilio, nodded like it made perfect sense, and sank heavily into a chair.
“I don’t know what you pay that boy, but it’s not enough,” Howard said, jerking his chin at Edilio.
“He doesn’t do it for pay,” Astrid said.
“Yeah, well, he’s the reason the whole town didn’t burn. Him and Dekka and Orc and Jack. And Ellen, it was her idea.”
Astrid didn’t want to ask, but she couldn’t stop herself. “Sam?”
Howard shook his head. “Didn’t see him.”
Astrid found a jacket in the closet, probably still there from the real mayor. It was a loud plaid thing. She draped it over Edilio. She went to the conference room and came back with a chair cushion which she slipped under Edilio’s head.
“Was it Zil?” Astrid asked Howard.
Howard barked a laugh. “Of course it was Zil.”
Astrid clenched her hands into fists. Sam had demanded a free hand to go after Zil. He’d wanted to deal with Human Crew.
Astrid had stopped him.
And the town had burned.
And now the basement was full of hurt kids.
And the ones who were just hurt were the lucky ones.
Astrid twisted her hands into a knot, an anguished, prayerful gesture. She had a powerful urge to drop to her knees and demand some kind of explanation from God. Why? Why?
“John would never lie to me,” Mary said, but with a lack of conviction even she could hear.
“Uh-huh. Something’s going wrong. Something’s going really, really wrong,” Lana said. “And now? The town is half burned and Caine’s stealing a boat and heading out to sea. What does that tell you?”
Mary sighed. “I’m too tired for guessing games, Lana.”
Lana stood up. She flicked her cigarette away. “Just remember: the FAYZ is working out fine for some people. You ever think about what would happen if the walls came down tomorrow? That would be good news for you. Good for most people. But would it be good for Sam and Astrid and Albert? Here they’re big deals. Back in the world they’re just kids.”
Lana waited, watching Mary closely. Like she was waiting for her to say something or react. Or deny. Something.
All Mary could think to do was say, “John is on the council.”
“Exactly. So, maybe you should ask him what’s really going on. Because, me? I don’t know.”
Mary had no answer to that.
Lana squared her shoulders and headed back toward the hell of the basement. She turned halfway down and said, “One other thing I almost forgot: this one kid? He said Brittney wasn’t the only officially dead person walking around in the fire.”
Mary waited. She tried not to show anything, but Lana had already seen it in her eyes.
“Ah,” Lana said. “So you saw him, too.”
Lana nodded once and was gone down the stairs.
The Darkness. Mary had only heard of it from others. Like stories of a boogeyman. Lana said it had used her.
Did Lana not see? Or did she simply refuse to see? If it were true that Brittney was somehow alive, that Drake was alive, too, then Mary could guess just how the gaiaphage had used Lana’s power.
THIRTY-ONE
9 HOURS, 17 MINUTES
ASTRID HAD WAITED all night for Sam to come back.
Waited all morning.
Smelling the stink of smoke.
From the office in town hall she saw the fire spread the length of Sherman, down the west side of Sheridan, down the single block of Grant Street, and two blocks of Pacific Boulevard.
It seemed certain to reach the plaza. But finally the fire’s march stalled.
Now the flames were mostly out, but a plume of smoke continued to rise.
Little Pete was asleep in the corner, curled into a ball with a ratty blanket thrown over him. His game player was on the floor beside him.
Astrid felt a towering wave of disgust. She was furious with Sam. Furious with Little Pete. Mad at the whole world around her. Sickened by everyone and everything.
And mostly, she admitted, sick of herself.
So desperately sick of being Astrid the Genius.
“Some genius,” she muttered. The town council, headed by that blond girl, what was her name? Oh right: Astrid. Astrid the Genius. Head of the town council that had let half the town burn to the ground.
Down in the basement of town hall Dahra Baidoo handed out scarce ibuprofen and expired Tylenol to kids with burns, like that would pretty much fix anything, as they waited for Lana to go one by one, healing with her touch.
Astrid could hear the cries of pain. There were several floors between her and the makeshift hospital. Not enough floors.
Edilio staggered in. He was barely recognizable. He was black with soot, dirty, dusty, with ragged scratches and scrapes and clothing hanging in shreds.
“I think we got it,” he said, and lay straight down on the floor.
Astrid knelt by his head. “You have it contained?”
But Edilio was beyond answering. He was unconscious. Done in.
Howard appeared next, in only slightly better shape. Some time during the night and morning he’d lost his smirk. He glanced at Edilio, nodded like it made perfect sense, and sank heavily into a chair.
“I don’t know what you pay that boy, but it’s not enough,” Howard said, jerking his chin at Edilio.
“He doesn’t do it for pay,” Astrid said.
“Yeah, well, he’s the reason the whole town didn’t burn. Him and Dekka and Orc and Jack. And Ellen, it was her idea.”
Astrid didn’t want to ask, but she couldn’t stop herself. “Sam?”
Howard shook his head. “Didn’t see him.”
Astrid found a jacket in the closet, probably still there from the real mayor. It was a loud plaid thing. She draped it over Edilio. She went to the conference room and came back with a chair cushion which she slipped under Edilio’s head.
“Was it Zil?” Astrid asked Howard.
Howard barked a laugh. “Of course it was Zil.”
Astrid clenched her hands into fists. Sam had demanded a free hand to go after Zil. He’d wanted to deal with Human Crew.
Astrid had stopped him.
And the town had burned.
And now the basement was full of hurt kids.
And the ones who were just hurt were the lucky ones.
Astrid twisted her hands into a knot, an anguished, prayerful gesture. She had a powerful urge to drop to her knees and demand some kind of explanation from God. Why? Why?
