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    Hunger_A Gone Novel

    Page 39
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      finding the biggest knife in the kitchen.

      Orsay Pettijohn was no longer hungry for dreams. She was

      hungry for food.

      Since coming to Coates she had eaten barely enough to

      stay alive. The situation was desperate. Kids were going into

      the surrounding woods looking for mushrooms, chasing

      squirrels and birds. One boy had made a trap and managed

      to catch a raccoon. The raccoon had bitten the boy repeatedly

      before being beaten to death with a piece of rebar.

      A girl named Allison had collected a bowl full of mushrooms. She had reasoned that cooking them would make them safe. She microwaved them till they were rubbery but

      fragrant.

      Orsay had smelled them cooking and had been driven

      nearly crazy by the smell. One of the boys had attacked

      H U N G E R

      433

      Allison, beaten, her and stolen the mushrooms as Allison

      wept and cursed.

      Within a few minutes the boy was vomiting. Then he

      began raving, crying, shouting at things that weren’t there.

      He’d fallen silent after a while. No one had entered his room

      since to see if he was dead or alive.

      Some kids had gathered grass and weeds and boiled them.

      They had not gotten very sick, just a little. But they hadn’t

      really gotten full, either.

      Kids were thin. Their cheeks were hollow. They didn’t look

      like starvation victims yet, because the serious hunger was

      only a few days old. But soon, Orsay knew, bellies would bloat

      and hair would turn red and crisp, and deadly resigned lethargy would set in. She had done a report once on famine, never imagining it would be something she would experience.

      More and more kids made dark jokes about cannibalism.

      Orsay was less and less sure she wouldn’t go along.

      Unless, of course, she herself was the meal.

      She was lying in her bungalow, in the woods, out behind

      the school, watching an old download of a show that seemed

      to be from another planet. The download came with a commercial for Doritos. The characters ate food all the time. It was impossible to believe that world had ever been real.

      Suddenly, Orsay was aware of another person in the room.

      She didn’t see him or hear him. She smelled him.

      He smelled like . . . like fish. Her stomach rumbled and her

      mouth watered.

      “Who’s there?” she demanded, frightened.

      434 M I C H A E L

      G R A N T

      Bug appeared slowly. He emerged from the background of

      Mose’s shabby room.

      “What do you want?” Orsay demanded, not really afraid

      of Bug now that she knew it was him. The smell, the fat, luscious aroma of fish, had her slavering like a hungry dog.

      “I need you to do something,” Bug said.

      “Did Caine send you?”

      Bug hesitated. He glanced aside and for a few seconds

      faded into the background again. Then he reappeared. His

      face was twisted into a very un-Bug-like expression of determination. He glanced warily over his shoulder as if fearing that some second version of himself was lurking, listening.

      “They have fish.”

      “I can smell it,” Orsay whimpered.

      “I brought some for you,” Bug said.

      Orsay felt like she might faint. “Can I have it?”

      “First you have to promise you’ll do what I say.”

      Orsay knew Bug was a little creep. Who knew what he

      would want her to do? But she also knew she wasn’t going to

      resist. There was just about nothing she wouldn’t do for food.

      Fish would be much, much better than the other type of meat

      kids were considering.

      “What do I have to do?” Orsay asked.

      “We have to take a walk. Then you have to do your thing.

      There’s some, like, creature or whatever. They want you to

      watch its dreams. See what it wants.”

      “The fish,” Orsay whispered urgently. “Do you have it with

      you?”

      H U N G E R

      43

      5

      Bug drew a Ziploc bag out of the pocket of his hoodie.

      Inside was white, crumbly, smashed-up fish. Orsay lunged for

      it, tore the packet open with trembling fingers, and ate it like

      an animal, sticking her mouth into the bag.

      She didn’t stop until she had turned the bag inside out

      and licked the plastic clean. “Do you have any more?” she

      begged.

      “First, you do your thing. Then we go back to town and

      talk.”

      “We’re doing this for the Perdido Beach kids?” Orsay

      asked.

      Bug snorted. “We’re doing this for whoever gives us the

      best offer. Right now, Sam’s guys have some fish. So we’re

      with them. But if Drake gets hold of us, somehow, we’ve been

      on his side all along. Right?”

      “I’m too weak to walk a long way,” Orsay said.

      “We only have to get as far as the highway. A guy will be

      there with a car.”

      THIRTY-FOUR

      06 HOURS, 3 MINUTES

      E D I L I O D R O V E T H E creepy little mutant, Bug, and the girl

      he’d brought along with him. He wasn’t happy about having

      to do this. Mostly he wanted to stay in town. Nightfall could

      bring trouble. And Sam . . . well, Sam wasn’t acting like Sam.

      Sam had looked like a zombie listening to Quinn and

      Albert’s confession last night.

      And then, this morning, Bug told his story. It was every

      kind of bad news rolled into one shamefaced confession after

      another, and Sam had just stared. Fortunately Astrid had

      stepped up.

      Sam, Edilio, Brianna, Taylor, Quinn, Albert, Astrid—the

      seven of them in Astrid’s living room, listening as Bug alternately groveled and whined.

      Then, Astrid read Lana’s letter.

      Sam:

      I’m going to try to kill the Darkness. I’d explain what

      that means, but I don’t even know. I only know that it’s

      H U N G E R

      43

      7

      the scariest thing you can imagine. I guess that’s not too

      helpful.

      I had no choice. It had its hooks in me, Sam. It was

      in my head. It’s been calling to me for days. It needs me

      for something, I don’t know what. But whatever it is, I

      can’t let it happen.

      Hopefully I’ll be fine. If not, take care of Patrick.

      Cookie, too.

      —Lana

      “I knew she was having some problems,” Quinn said,

      sounding guilty. “I didn’t know about this, though. I mean . . .

      it’s like Lana used me and Albert so she could get back out to

      the desert.”

      “That would be putting a convenient spin on your own

      sneakiness, Quinn,” Astrid had snapped.

      “She brought up the gold to me,” Albert said thoughtfully,

      not at all intimidated by Astrid’s anger. “It was a good suggestion. So I jumped at it. But it came from her, originally.

      Maybe what we need to think about is whether Lana is working with this creature.”

      “No,” Quinn said.

      Everyone waited for him to explain. He shrugged and

      repeated, “No.” And then he added, “I don’t think so.”

      “We need Lana,” Sam said, finally breaking his gloomy

      silence. “It almost doesn’t matter i
    f she’s helping this thing.

      Friend or enemy, we need Lana.”

      “Agreed,” Albert said, as though the conversation were

      one between him and Sam, like it was just the two of them

      438 M I C H A E L

      G R A N T

      debating what to do. For a guy who had been caught breaking

      various rules, Albert didn’t seem too worried.

      But then he wouldn’t, would he? Edilio reflected. He had

      food. Food was power now. Even Astrid wasn’t really going

      after Albert, although she obviously didn’t like him much.

      “We need to know what this creature is,” Albert said.

      Sam looked at Bug, who had been ordered to remain visible. “What’s this Orsay girl’s thing?”

      Bug shrugged. “She sees people’s dreams, I think.”

      “And Caine wants her to spy on the creature.” Almost

      despite himself Sam was becoming more engaged. Edilio had

      seen the wheels begin to turn again in his friend’s head. It

      was a huge relief. “If Caine wants it, maybe we want it, too,”

      Sam had said, and one by one the others nodded agreement.

      “Albert’s right: we need to know what we’re dealing with.”

      Which was how Edilio had ended up playing chauffeur to

      Bug and this strange girl.

      “What’d you say your name was?” Edilio asked, making

      eye contact with her in the rearview mirror.

      “Orsay.”

      She probably wasn’t bad looking, under normal circumstances. But right now she looked terrified. And gaunt. Her hair was all over the place. And although Edilio wasn’t one to

      complain, one or both of them back there smelled, and not

      just like Quinn and Albert’s fish.

      “Where you from, Orsay?”

      “I lived at the ranger camp. In the Stefano Rey.”

      “Huh. That’s kind of cool.”

      H U N G E R

      43

      9

      She didn’t look as if she agreed. Then she said, “You have

      a gun.”

      Edilio glanced at the machine pistol on the seat beside

      him. Two full clips rattled with each bump. “Yeah.”

      “If we see Drake, you have to shoot him.”

      Edilio pretty much agreed. But he had to ask, anyway.

      “Why?”

      “I’ve seen his dreams,” Orsay said. “I’ve seen inside him.”

      They were off-road, heading vaguely toward the hills.

      They had found Hermit Jim’s shack—Edilio had a good sense

      of direction—but none of them had ever been to this mine

      shaft. All they had were the directions Caine had given Bug.

      The sun was setting behind the hills, turning them an ominous dark purple. Night would come too soon. No way Orsay could do whatever it was she was supposed to do in time for

      them to get back to town before full night fell.

      “What exactly are you supposed to be doing?” Edilio

      asked.

      “What do you mean?”

      “I mean, you’re a freak, right? Bug wasn’t too clear.”

      Bug looked up at the sound of his nickname. Then, as if in

      response, he faded from view.

      “I can see dreams. I told you,” Orsay said, and looked out

      of the window.

      “Yeah? You wouldn’t want to see my dreams. They’re kind

      of boring.”

      “I know,” the girl said.

      That got Edilio’s full attention. “Say what?”

      440 M I C H A E L

      G R A N T

      “Long time back. You and Sam and Quinn and a girl

      named Astrid. And the other one. I saw you hiking through

      the woods.”

      “You were there, huh?” Edilio said. He pursed his lips,

      not at all happy with the idea that some girl could see his

      dreams. He’d said his dreams were boring. Mostly they were.

      But sometimes, well, sometimes they weren’t something he

      wanted a stranger sitting in on. Especially a girl.

      He squirmed in his seat.

      “Don’t worry,” Orsay said with a trace of a smile. “I’m used

      to . . . you know. Whatever.”

      “Uh-huh,” Edilio muttered.

      The Jeep bounced and rattled as they went though a rocky

      patch. They had the top up and buttoned tight. It was dusty

      and Edilio didn’t trust Bug not to drop off and simply disappear.

      Then, too, there were the coyotes. Edilio kept an eye out

      for them.

      They were closing in on the hills. There was the fold

      formed by a spur, just like Caine had shown on the map he’d

      drawn for Bug.

      There was a bad look about the place. The shadows seemed

      deeper than they should be for the middle of the day.

      “I’m not crazy about this,” he said to no one.

      “Do you have family?” Orsay asked.

      The question surprised Edilio. People tended to avoid

      talking about family. No one knew what had happened to the

      families. “Sure.”

      H U N G E R

      44

      1

      “When I’m scared I try to think about my dad,” Orsay

      said.

      “Not me,” Bug said.

      “Not your mom?” Edilio asked.

      “No.”

      “Because me, I think about my mom. In my mind, you

      know, she’s like beautiful. I mean, I don’t know if she was . . .

      is . . . in reality? Right? But in here,” Edilio tapped his head.

      “In here she’s beautiful.” He tapped his chest. “In here, too.”

      They rounded the end of the rocky spur and there, in pitiless sunlight, a ghost town lay revealed.

      Edilio put on the brakes.

      “That look like what Caine told you?” he asked Bug.

      Bug nodded.

      “Okay.”

      “Caine said go through the town. Past a building that’s

      still standing. Up a path. Mine shaft.”

      “Uh-huh,” Edilio said. He knew what he was supposed to

      do. But he didn’t like it. Not at all. Less, now that he was here.

      He was not a superstitious person, at least he didn’t think so,

      but there was something very wrong about this ghost town.

      He put the Jeep into gear and crept ahead, no more than

      ten miles an hour. The last thing he wanted to do was have to

      figure out how to change a tire.

      “I don’t like this place,” Orsay said.

      “Yeah. Let’s not go here for spring break,” Edilio said.

      Through the town.

      Past the ramshackle building.

      442 M I C H A E L

      G R A N T

      The path was narrow, but the Jeep managed it at a crawl.

      “Stop!” Orsay cried.

      Edilio slammed on the brakes. They came to rest beside

      a high outcropping of rock. If this had been an old Western,

      Edilio thought, this is where the ambush would take place.

      He lifted the gun. It was a reassuring weight in his hand.

      He checked to make sure it was cocked. Thumb on the safety.

      Finger resting on the trigger guard, just like he taught his

      recruits.

      He listened but didn’t hear anything.

      “Why did we stop?” Edilio asked Orsay.

      “Close enough,” she whispered. “I . . .”

      Edilio twisted in his seat. “What is it?”

      What he saw shocked him. Orsay’s eyes were wide, glittering whites showing all around.

      “What’s with her?” Bug asked in a quivering voice.

      “Orsay. Are you
    okay?” Edilio asked.

      Her only answer was a moaning sound so unearthly that

      at first Edilio didn’t realize it was coming from her. It seemed

      to generate from her chest, a sound too deep for this frail girl.

      It was something closer to an animal growl.

      “Girl’s crazy,” Bug moaned.

      Orsay began to tremble. The trembling escalated until she

      was shaking, in spasm, like a person being electrocuted. Her

      tongue protruded from her mouth, gagging her.

      She was biting her tongue. Like she was trying to bite it off.

      “Hey!” Edilio slammed the glove compartment open and

      yanked everything out with frantic fingers, screwdriver,

      flashlight, a thick digital tire gauge. He grabbed the tire gauge

      H U N G E R

      443

      and pushed his way into the backseat. He yelled, “Grab her,

      hold her!” to Bug, who instead shrank away.

      Edilio grabbed her by the hair, there was nothing else he

      could hold with one hand, twisted his fist into her hair until

      he had a firm purchase, yanked her head forward, and shoved

      the tire gauge between her teeth.

      Her jaws clamped hard, so hard, they cracked the plastic of

      the tire gauge. Blood flowed from her mouth, but her teeth no

      longer closed on her tongue.

      “Hold that in her mouth!” Edilio yelled at Bug.

      Bug just stared, paralyzed.

      Edilio yelled a curse and said, “Do it or I swear I will shoot

      you!”

      Bug snapped out of his trance and grabbed Orsay’s head

      with his hands.

      Edilio threw the Jeep into reverse and began backing up

      as fast as he could go, down the path. The first he noticed of

      the coyotes was when he felt a bump and heard a canine yelp

      of pain.

      One hand on the wheel, yelling in fear, Edilio smashed the

      Jeep into an embankment. He threw it into drive, advanced

      a few feet to get clear, threw it, gears grinding into reverse

      again as a huge, snarling face appeared beside him. Coyote

      teeth slavered and tore at the plastic.

      Edilio snap-aimed and fired. The burst was short, maybe

      five rounds, but more than enough to dissolve the coyote’s

      head into red mist.

      Down they bumped, down the path, smashing and jolting.

      Edilio could barely hold the wheel.

      444 M I C H A E L

      G R A N T

      Then, suddenly, they were on flat terrain. He spun the

      wheel as two coyotes hurled themselves at the plastic sheath.

     


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