Plague (32 page)

IT
HAD BEEN a long time since so many kids filled the plaza. Not everyone had come, but most had. Looking down from the town hall steps, Sam saw faces that were fearful, others that were happy, and of course, as with any group of kids, some were just playing.

It was a good thing, he told himself, this ability to find some little piece of joy to hold on to.

The graveyard had swollen terribly. But the flu had burned itself out at last. There had been no new cases for forty-eight hours. No one was celebrating, no one was relaxing, but the deadly flu seemed to have run its course at last.

He stole a glance at his brother. Caine looked confident, certainly more confident than Sam felt. Caine wore the look of a self-appointed king well, Sam thought gloomily. He was perfectly dressed in gray slacks and a navy blazer over a pale blue collared shirt. How had he managed it?

The rest of his “court” were nowhere near as well turned-out, but were nevertheless better looking than Sam or his crew.

Diana, Penny, Turk, and Taylor all stood behind Caine.

Sam was with Dekka, but no longer the seemingly fearless, intimidating Dekka he had always known. She was weak in body, still recovering, and weaker still in spirit.

Brianna wasn’t standing so much as vibrating in place, unable to keep entirely still. She looked distracted and angry and was definitely refusing to make eye contact with Dekka.

Jack was the surprise to Sam, that he would bother to dress neatly and remember to show up. Jack was growing, had grown, as a person.

Edilio sat in a lawn chair. He looked like he was still close to death’s door, but the cough was gone, his fever was down, and he was determined.

The most notable absence was Astrid. She should have been there. He scanned the crowd for any sign of her. But no one had seen her. The gossips said she’d moved into a small apartment at the edge of town. Others said they’d seen her walking down the highway toward the Stefano Rey.

Sam had hoped she would appear today for the Big BreakUp, as Howard had dubbed this strange ceremony. But she was nowhere to be seen. And Sam’s friends now carefully avoided mentioning her name.

Toto stood awkwardly, self-conscious, twitchy, between the two separate camps.

“I think everyone is here,” Caine announced.

“He doesn’t believe that,” Toto said.

Caine smiled indulgently. “I think everyone is here that is likely to come,” Caine corrected.

“True,” Toto said.

“Yeah,” Sam said. His mouth was dry. He was nervous. He shouldn’t care. This shouldn’t matter. It wasn’t as if he’d ever wanted to be a leader, let alone a popular one.

Caine held up his hand, signaling it was time for everyone to quiet down.

“You all know why we’re here,” Caine said in his fine, strong voice. “Sam and I both want peace—”

“Not true,” Toto said.

Caine’s eyes flashed angrily. But he forced a smile. “Toto, for those of you who don’t know, is a freak with the power to tell truth from lie.”

“True,” Toto said.

“So. Okay. Let me start over,” Caine said. “Sam and I don’t like each other. My people don’t like his people, and his people feel the same way about us.” He paused to look at Toto.

Toto nodded and said, “He believes this.”

“Yes, I do,” Caine said dryly. “We have different visions for the future. Sam here wants to move everyone to this lake of his. I want to stay here in Perdido Beach.”

The crowd was very quiet. Sam was both irritated and relieved that Caine was doing all the talking.

“Sam and I also have different ideas about leadership. Sam thinks it’s a burden. Me? I think it’s an opportunity.”

“He . . . he believes that,” Toto said. But he was frowning, perhaps sensing something about Caine that was neither true nor false.

“Today, each of you will make a decision,” Caine said. “To go with Sam, or to stay here. I won’t try to stop anyone, and I won’t hold it against anyone.” He placed his hand over his heart. “For those who choose to stay, let me be very clear: I will be in charge. Not as a mayor, but as a king. My word will be law. My decisions will be final.”

That caused some murmuring, most of it unhappy.

“But I’ll also do everything I can to leave each of you alone. Quinn, if he chooses to stay, can still fish. Albert, if he chooses to stay, will still run his business. Freaks and normals will be treated equally.”

He seemed about to add something else but caught himself after a sidelong look at Toto.

The silence lengthened and Sam knew it was time for him to speak. In the past he’d always had Astrid at his side for things like this. He was not much of a speaker. And in any case, he didn’t have much to say.

“Anyone who goes with me has a vote in how we do stuff. I guess I’ll be more or less in charge, but we’ll probably choose some other people, create a council like . . . Well, hopefully better than we had before. And, um . . .” He was tempted to laugh at his own pitiful performance. “Look, people, if you want someone, some . . . king, good grief, to tell you what to do, stay here. If you want to make more of your own decisions, well, come with me.”

He hadn’t said enough to even cause Toto to comment.

“You know which side I’m on, people,” Brianna yelled. “Sam’s been carrying the load since day one.”

“It was Caine that saved us,” a voice cried out. “Where was Sam?”

The crowd seemed undecided. Caine was beaming confidence, but Sam noticed that his jaw clenched, his smile was forced, and he was worried.

“What’s Albert going to do?” a boy named Jim demanded. “Where’s Albert?”

Albert stepped from an inconspicuous position off to one side. He mounted the steps, moving carefully still, not entirely well even now.

He carefully chose a position equidistant between Caine and Sam.

“What should we do, Albert?” a voice asked plaintively.

Albert didn’t look out at the crowd except for a quick glance up, like he was just making sure he was pointed in the right direction. He spoke in a quiet, reasonable monotone. Kids edged closer to hear.

“I’m a businessman.”

“True.” Toto.

“My job is organizing kids to work, taking the things they harvest or catch, and redistributing them through a market.”

“And getting the best stuff for yourself,” someone yelled to general laughter.

“Yes,” Albert acknowledged. “I reward myself for the work I do.”

This blunt admission left the crowd nonplussed.

“Caine has promised that if I stay here he won’t interfere. But I don’t trust Caine.”

“No, he doesn’t,” Toto agreed.

“I do trust Sam. But . . .”

And now you could hear a pin drop.

“But . . . Sam is a weak leader.” He kept his eyes down. “Sam is the best fighter ever. He’s defended us many times. And he’s the best at figuring out how to survive. But Sam”— Albert now turned to him—“You are too humble. Too willing to step aside. When Astrid and the council sidelined you, you put up with it. I was part of that myself. But you let us push you aside and the council turned out to be useless.”

Sam stood stock-still, stone-faced.

“Let’s face it, you’re not really the reason things are better here, I am,” Albert said. “You’re way, way braver than me, Sam. And if it’s a battle, you rule. But you can’t organize or plan ahead and you won’t just put your foot down and make things happen.”

Sam nodded slightly. It was hard to hear. But far harder was seeing the way the crowd was nodding, agreeing. It was the truth. The fact was he’d let the council run things, stepped aside, and then sat around feeling sorry for himself. He’d jumped at the chance to go off on an adventure and he hadn’t been here to save the town when they needed it.

“So,” Albert concluded, “I’m keeping my things here, in Perdido Beach. But there will be free trading of stuff between Perdido Beach and the lake. And Lana has to be allowed to move freely.”

Caine bristled at that. He didn’t like Albert laying down conditions.

Albert wasn’t intimidated. “I feed these kids,” he said to Caine. “I do it my way.”

Caine hesitated, then made a tight little bow of the head.

“I want you to say it,” Albert said with a nod toward Toto.

Sam saw panic in Caine’s eyes. If he lied now the jig would be up for him. Toto would call him out, Albert would support Sam, and the kids would follow Albert’s lead.

Sam wondered if Caine was just starting to realize what Sam had known for some time: if anyone was king, it was neither Sam nor Caine, it was Albert.

It took Caine a long time to answer. His smile faded as understanding dawned on him. He could only tell the truth. Which meant believing it.

Accepting it.

In a deflated voice very unlike his lordly swagger earlier, Caine said, “Yeah. Albert decides anything about money or work or trade back and forth between Perdido Beach and the lake. And the Healer goes wherever the Healer wants to go.”

Sam had to resist an urge to laugh out loud. After all that had happened between him and Caine, after all Caine’s posturing today, it wasn’t big, charming, handsome, and very powerful Caine, or Sam either, who ran the FAYZ. It was a reserved, skinny black kid whose only power was the ability to work hard and stay focused.

Caine’s big moment, his great triumphant return, had been tarnished.

“Okay,” Sam said. “I’m going to Ralph’s. Anyone coming with me, head over there. I’ll wait two hours. Bring bottled water and whatever food you have. It’s a long walk to the lake.”

He walked down the steps, turned away without looking back, and walked toward the highway. He had the strangest feeling that he was walking alone.

At the highway he paused. Brianna was there, of course. Dekka, too, and Jack. Jack carried Edilio like a baby—a very large baby.

In addition there were forty or fifty others who had picked up and left their homes to follow him.

Quinn came forward and Sam pulled him aside. His old friend looked tortured and sad.

“What’s up, brah?” Sam asked.

Quinn couldn’t speak. He was choked with emotion. “Dude . . .”

“You want to stay in town.”

“My crews . . . my boats and all . . .”

Sam put a hand on his shoulder. “Quinn, I’m glad you found something so important to do. Something you really like.”

“Yeah, but . . .”

Sam pulled him into a brief hug. “You and me, we’re still friends, man. But you have responsibilities.”

Quinn nodded miserably.

Sam scanned the crowd again, searching for Astrid. She was not there.

It wasn’t far to Ralph’s parking lot. Sam sagged against a parked car. Some of the kids came up to offer statements of support or encouragement. But most came up to say things like, “You really have Nutella?” Or “Can I live on a boat? That would be so cool.”

They were coming for Nutella and noodles, not for him.

He felt numb. Like everything that was happening was happening to someone else. He pictured himself at the lake, on a houseboat. Dekka would be there, and Brianna and Jack. He would have friends. He wouldn’t be alone.

But he couldn’t stop himself from looking for her.

She no longer had Little Pete to worry about. They could be together without all of that. But of course he knew Astrid, and knew that right now, wherever she was, she was eaten up inside with guilt.

“She’s not coming, is she?” Sam said to Dekka.

But Dekka didn’t answer. She was somewhere else in her head. Sam saw her glance and look away as Brianna laid a light hand on Jack’s shoulder.

Dahra was staying in the hospital, but a few more kids came. Groups of three or four at a time. The Siren and the kids she lived with came. John Terrafino came. Ellen. He waited. He would wait the full two hours. Not for her, he told himself, just to keep his word.

Then Orc, with Howard.

Sam groaned inwardly.

“You gotta be kidding me,” Brianna said.

“The deal was kids make a choice,” Sam said. “I think Howard just realized how dangerous life can be for a criminal living in a place where the ‘king’ can decide life or death.”

To Sam’s relief, Howard did not come over to talk to him. Orc and he sat in the back of a pickup truck. Other kids gave them a wide berth.

“It’s time,” Jack said.

“Breeze? Count the kids,” Sam said.

Brianna was back in twenty seconds. “Eighty-two, boss.”

“About a third,” Jack observed. “A third of what’s left.”

“Wait. Make that eighty-eight,” Brianna said. “And a dog.”

Lana, looking deeply irritated—a fairly usual expression for her—and Sanjit, looking happy—a fairly usual expression for him—and Sanjit’s siblings were trotting along to catch up.

“I don’t know if we’re staying up there or not,” Lana said without preamble. “I want to check it out. And my room smells like crap.”

Just before the time was up, Sam heard a stir. Kids were making a lane for someone, murmuring. His heart leaped.

“Hey, Sam.”

He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Diana?”

“Not expecting me, huh?” She made a wry face. “Where’s blondie? I didn’t see her at the big pep rally.”

“Are you coming with us?” Brianna demanded, obviously not happy about it.

“Is Caine okay with this?” Sam asked Diana. “It’s your choice, but I need to know if he’s going to come after us to take you back.”

“Caine has what he wants,” Diana said.

“Maybe I should call Toto over,” Sam said. The truth teller was having a conversation with Spidey. “I could ask you whether you’re coming along to spy for Caine, and see what Toto has to say.”

Diana sighed. “Sam, I have bigger problems than Caine. And so do you, I guess. Because the FAYZ is going to do something it’s never done before: grow by one.”

“What’s that mean?”

“You are going to be an uncle.”

Sam stared blankly. Brianna said a very rude word. And even Dekka looked up.

“You’re having a baby?” Dekka asked.

“Let’s hope so,” Diana said bleakly. “Let’s hope that’s all it is.”

HE
WALKED ON the edge of a sheet of glass a million miles high.

On one side, far, far below him, the jangly noises and eye-searing colors were dimmed. He saw his sister’s yellow hair and piercing blue eyes, but now he was too far away for them to hurt him.

He saw the echoes of the lurid, bright-eyed monsters who had tried to eat him. They were ghosts sinking lazily down toward the greenish glow far, far below.

They had reached for him with stinging tongues and slicing mouths. So he had made them disappear.

The pain in his body was gone. He was cool and light and amazingly limber. He turned a cartwheel along the edge of the glass and laughed.

His body, full of heat and aching and coughs like volcanoes, had gone away, too. Just like the bugs.

No body, no pain.

Little Pete smiled down at the Darkness. It did not try to touch him now. It shrank away.

It was afraid.

Afraid of him.

Little Pete felt as if a giant weight had been lifted off his shoulders. All of it, the too-bright colors and the too-penetrating eyes, and the misty tendrils that reached for his mind, all of it was so very far off.

Now Little Pete floated up and away from the sheet of glass. He no longer needed to teeter precariously there. He could go anywhere. He was free of the sister and free of the Darkness. He was free at last from the disease-wracked body. And he was free, too, from the tortured, twisted, stunted brain that had made the world so painful to him.

For the first time Little Pete saw the world without cringing or needing to run away. It was as if he’d been watching the world through a veil, through milky glass, and now saw it all clearly for the first time in his brief existence.

His whole life he had needed to hide. And now he gasped at the thrill of seeing and hearing and feeling.

His sick body was gone. His distorting, terrifying brain was gone.

But Pete Ellison had never been more alive.