Astrid said. “Because I’m totally off in guesswork. And it
doesn’t really explain much, even if it’s true. Big ‘if.’ Really
big ‘if.’”
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“But?” Sam prompted.
“But maybe this thing that’s been living under the ground
for thirteen years has been living on radiation. Feeding on
it. Think about a virus that could survive thousands of years
in the environment of space. The only possible food source
would be hard radiation.”
The next part was hard for Astrid. Sam could see the
way her lip quivered. “The power company lied: they never
cleaned up all the radiation from the accident. It’s been under
our feet all this time, seeping into the water, being absorbed
into the food we eat.”
Astrid’s father had been an engineer at the power plant.
She must be wondering whether he had known of the deception.
“They may not even have known they didn’t get it all,” Sam
said. “The people who worked there—they probably didn’t
know.”
Astrid nodded. The quiver stopped. The tight anger in her
expression remained. “As the gaiaphage mutated, so did some
of us. Maybe some kind of synthesis. I don’t know. But one
safe guess is that the gaiaphage began to run out of food. It
needs more. It can’t get to it, it can only attempt to make others do its will. I think—I believe—that the meltdown Little Pete stopped was caused by someone at the plant. Obeying
the gaiaphage. Attempting to blow up the plant, which would
spread radiation everywhere, kill everything nearby . . . except
for the creature that lives on radiation.”
“Little Pete stopped the meltdown. Created the FAYZ. But
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he did not destroy the gaiaphage. And the gaiaphage is still
hungry.”
“Hungry in the dark,” Little Pete said.
“Caine’s going to feed it,” Sam said.
“Yes.”
“And then?”
“And then, the gaiaphage will survive and adapt. It can’t go
on living in a hole in the ground, relying on others. It needs
to be able to escape. To move freely. And to survive attacks
from us.”
“Maybe it’s good if it comes out to fight,” Edilio said.
“Maybe we can kill it.”
“It knows what powers we have,” Astrid said. “And it has
had some help imagining ways to build a body that would be
invulnerable.”
“Help? Help from who?”
Sam put his hand on Edilio’s arm, calming him. “From
someone who doesn’t know what he’s doing,” he said.
“Nestor,” Little Pete said.
“Try some, dude. What are you, three years old?” Antoine
tried to pass the joint to Zil. Zil waved it off.
“I’ve tried it before,” Zil said. “I didn’t like it.”
“Yeah, right.” Antoine took a long pull off the joint and
began coughing like he was hacking up a lung. He coughed
so violently, his knee hit the coffee table and knocked over
Zil’s water.
“Hey,” Zil yelled.
458 M I C H A E L
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“Oh, sorry, man,” Antoine said when he could speak again.
Lance took a hit, made a face, and handed it off to Lisa. She
giggled, smoked, coughed, then giggled some more.
Zil had never had a girlfriend before. Girls didn’t like him.
Not like, like. He had never been one of the popular kids.
In the old days Zil was mostly known for the strange lunches
his mother packed for him. They were always vegan, organic,
and always very “green,” with nothing disposable, nothing
prepackaged. Unfortunately much of what his mother packed
for his lunch smelled. Vinegar dressing for salads, tapenade
or hummus reeking of garlic, stuffed grape leaves.
Zil loved his mom and dad, but the coming of the FAYZ
had been liberating in one way: he’d finally been able to eat
all the cookies and chips he’d wanted. He’d even done what
his parents would have considered unforgivable: he had eaten
meat. And he’d liked it.
Of course now he would give anything to have a gooey
wad of hummus and some whole wheat pita bread.
He had no food. What he had were stomach pains. And his
crew. His posse. The Human Crew. All of whom, he realized,
were losers. Except for Lance. Lance being there kind of made
them look cooler than they were. He even managed to look
cool by the flickering candlelight.
“The freaks have food,” Turk said for the thousandth time.
“They always have food. Regular kids are going hungry, but
the freaks always have enough.”
Zil doubted that, but there was no point arguing about it.
It wasn’t some crazy story about the freaks having food that
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made him hate them. It was their superior attitude. But whatever.
“I heard Brianna caught some pigeons and ate them,” Lisa
said, then giggled. Zil wasn’t sure if she always giggled, or was
mostly giggling because she was high.
She was drawing on a pad, perching a small flashlight on
her lap and using a Sharpie to do variations on the letters “H”
and “C” for Human Crew. She had a version that Zil kind of
liked where the “H” and the “C” were sort of joined, slanted
to one side, all hard edges.
Antoine had found the weed in his parents’ bedroom.
While conducting yet another desperate search for food.
“That’s what I’m saying,” Turk said, pointing at Lisa like
she was evidence. “They have their ways of getting food. The
freaks all work together.” Turk was not smoking. He was staring at Zil. Like Zil might have some solution. Like Zil was going to have some kind of plan.
Zil didn’t have a plan. Zil just knew that freaks were running things in the FAYZ. And not just in Perdido Beach, but up the hill at Coates, too. And now at the power plant. Freaks
running everything. Well, freaks and their helpers, like Edilio
and Albert and Astrid.
And the other thing Zil knew was that things were a mess.
People were starving. And if the freaks were in charge, who
else’s fault could it be?
“They have food, I guarantee you,” Turk said.
“Yeah, well, we have tree,” Antoine said, and laughed at his
own wit.
460 M I C H A E L
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The front door opened and Zil reached for his baseball bat,
just in case. It was Hank. Hank came in, stepped right up to
Antoine, who was easily twice his size, and said, “Put that
away.”
“What are you, the po-po?”
“This is not about getting stoned,” Hank said. “That’s not
what Zil is about. That’s not what the Human Crew is.”
Antoine looked blearily at Zil. Zil was surprised at hearing
himself referred to as if he had some larger meaning. It was
flattering. Also confusing.
“Yeah, put away the weed, man,” Zil said.
Antoine made a dismissive
noise.
To everyone’s amazement, Hank knocked the joint from
Antoine’s hand.
Antoine rose from the couch, looking like he might flatten
little Hank. But Zil said, “No. No fighting between ourselves.”
Lance said, “Yeah. That’s right,” but he didn’t sound too
sure.
It was left to Turk to settle the matter. “Hank’s right. Zil’s
not about us acting like everyone else, like kids. Zil’s about
us dealing with the freaks. If we sit around getting high, Zil’s
not going to be able to deal with the problem. He needs us to
be cool.”
“Yeah,” Lance agreed. “But be cool about what?”
“I found Hunter.” Hank delivered the news with quiet
pride. Like he was presenting a straight-A report card to his
parents.
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Zil jumped to his feet. “You found him?”
“Yeah. He’s across the highway, hiding out in a house over
there. And you’ll never guess what he’s got there.”
“What?”
“Food. The mutant freak killed a deer. Then he cooked it
with his freak powers and last I saw he was cutting it up with
a knife.”
“Keeping it all for himself,” Turk said. “Just him and the
other freaks. They’ll eat venison, the rest of us can go boil
some grass or whatever.”
Zil’s mouth watered. Meat. Actual meat. And not rat or
pigeon, but something that was almost like beef.
“I’ve eaten venison,” Lance said. “It’s good.”
“Has to be better than dog,” Antoine said. “Although I’d
eat some more dog right now, if I had any.”
“What do we do?” Lance asked Zil.
Every eye, even Lisa’s, turned to Zil. “What do you think
we do?” Zil asked rhetorically, stalling for time.
“We go get him!” Antoine said.
Zil slapped Antoine on the shoulder and laughed. “Yeah.”
Then he high-fived Hank. “Good work, man. Venison is on
the menu.”
“Right after we hang Hunter,” Hank said.
That stopped the conversation cold.
“Say what?” Lance asked.
Hank looked coldly at Lance. “You think the freak is just
going to give us the food? He’ll kill us, if he gets the chance.
Freaks don’t care about us, don’t care if we starve. Anyway,
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he’s a murderer, right? What are you supposed to do with a
murdering freak?”
Zil swallowed hard. Hank was pushing this thing too far.
It was one thing busting on Sam, trying to get some respect
for normals.
To Zil’s relief, Lance spoke up. “Dude, I don’t think we
want to, like, kill the guy ourselves.”
“It was Zil’s idea,” Hank said. “That first night. Why did
we have a rope with us if we weren’t going to execute justice
on Hunter?”
The rope had not been Zil’s idea. But should he admit that?
He’d just figured on giving Hunter a beating. He wanted
Hunter to cry and confess that he’d stolen that last shred of
beef jerky. He hadn’t been thinking about actually killing
Hunter. That was just talk.
“You think Sam and Edilio and all of them are going to let
us just execute Hunter?” Lance argued.
Hank smiled. It was a strange, little-boy smile. Innocent.
“They’re all gone. Dekka’s at the power plant, right? And Sam
and Edilio just blew out of town in that Jeep. The whole bunch
of them, off trying to deal with Caine, I guess.”
Zil’s heart was pounding. His mouth was dry. They weren’t
really going to do this, were they?
But Hunter had meat. And how else were they going to get
the food from Hunter?
Turk said, “We can’t just take out Hunter.”
“Right,” Zil blurted.
“We have to give him a trial first,” Turk said.
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And Zil found himself nodding. And he found himself
grinning, like that had been his idea all along. And maybe it
had been. Maybe it was what he had known in his heart had
to happen.
Yes, Zil told himself. You’re soft-hearted, but you know it’s
what’s got to be, Zil. You know it’s what has got to be.
Every face was turned toward him expectantly. Lisa, not so
bad looking, really. Not when she smiled at him like he was
some kind of rock star.
“We’ll have a trial. Because the Human Crew is not just
about doing random violence,” Zil said, sounding as though
he believed it. Setting aside the fact that random violence,
smashing windows and such, was all they’d done so far. “This
has got to be about justice. Otherwise the other normals, our
people, will be weird about it. So, we have to have a trial. Then
we deal with Hunter. Give him justice. And we share some of
the deer meat around, right?”
“Yeah,” Lance agreed.
“Bring kids over to our side,” Zil said. “It’ll be like, hey, Zil
gave us justice and food.”
“It will be the truth,” Turk said.
THIRTY-SIX
01 HOUR, 8 MINUTES
D R A K E C R E P T T O the hole in the exterior wall. The rim of
the hole was still a little warm to the touch. He kept his face
in the shadows, looked left, looked right.
Caine wanted a diversion? Fine, he’d get a diversion.
Drake saw Dekka in a lawn chair, head down, maybe dozing. He saw a tarp covering what could only be bodies. He saw two kids playing thumb war. Their guns were leaned
against a car. He did not see Sam or his shadow, Edilio. He
didn’t see Brianna.
fall soon. Caine had warned him to do nothing before Jack
turned off the reactor.
“You’ll see the lights in the parking lot go out,” Jack had
said in his usual know-it-all voice. “And you’ll hear the turbines suddenly slow down.”
Sam had to be out there somewhere, just beyond the narrow slice of parking lot that Drake could see. Had to be. Sam H U N G E R
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wouldn’t have left Dekka all alone with nothing but a couple
of idiot sixth graders.
Drake wanted to be the one to take Sam down. If he took
Sam down, then no one would ever be able to argue with his
claim to be the boss. When the big dogs fight it out, it’s the
winner who rules. Caine had missed his shot at Sam. Drake
wouldn’t miss his.
But no matter how long he looked, he saw no evidence of
Sam or anyone else worth worrying about.
Just as he was turning away Orc stomped heavily into view.
He headed toward the edge of the parking lot, toward some
high grass.
Drake laughed silently. The monstrosity had to take a pee.
Okay, so it was Orc and Dekka and a couple kids with
rifles. It would be foolish to take any of them lightly. Drake
had fought Orc once before and not entirely won the battle.
Of course he hadn’t been cradling a machine gun then.
Drake rested his lef
t hand on the rim of the hole. Hot but
not too hot. He formed his hand into a bridge, then laid the
barrel of the gun on his hand. He squatted to get into position.
He laid his cheek against the cool plastic stock, closed his left
eye, and lined up the rear and forward sights. He wrapped
the tip of his tentacle around the trigger.
He shifted the sights left an inch. Another inch. And now
they were lined up on Dekka.
Not yet. Wait until Jack had turned off the reactor. Then
wait ten minutes more.
But it had better be soon. The sun was casting long purple
466 M I C H A E L
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shadows and if the parking lights went out, Drake wouldn’t
have much ability to aim.
Dekka dozing. Looked like she was drooling.
A short burst. That’s what he would do. Squeeze off a short
burst and watch as the little red flowers blossomed all over
Dekka’s—
“Ahhh!” Howard yelled.
Drake jerked back. So did Howard.
Howard was right in front of him, right at the hole, peering in like some kind of tourist.
Their eyes met.
Drake yanked the gun to the left and fired. The gun bucked
in his hands. But Howard had flattened himself against the
wall.
Dekka jerked awake.
Drake cursed and aimed the gun at her.
He squeezed the trigger. But Dekka was ten feet in the air
and rising swiftly. The lawn chair twirled upward with her.
Drake aimed. Like shooting at skeet, he thought. Lead the
target just a little and—
Belatedly Dekka stretched her hands out toward Drake. A
suddenly weightless gun barrel rose too much. The burst tore
the air over Dekka’s head and she fell as her own personal
gravity returned.
She slammed into the concrete. The chair landed on her.
She didn’t move.
Then slowly, slowly, she raised her head.
Drake took his time. He looked at her. Saw that she was
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looking at him. Saw that she knew he had won. Saw the fear
and resignation in her dark eyes.
“Scratch one freak,” Drake whispered, and slowly squeezed
the trigger.
“We’ve got to sneak up on him,” Hank said. “Get him before
he can do anything.”
Zil was not happy about Hank giving the orders. Not happy
at all. “The important thing is to knock him out fast before he
can fry one of us. Then we tie him up and use the tinfoil.”