Gone Series: Plague Part 27

What chance would any kid have with Caine as father and Diana as mother? Diana laughed softly. And could not later recall the exact moment or the exact reason that her laughter turned into bitter tears.

Edilio stood completely still in the hallway outside of Roscoe's room.

He could barely breathe.

What could he say? What could you say to a boy who was going to die? The terrible truth was that he could do nothing for Roscoe. It was good that Roscoe was calling to G.o.d because only G.o.d could save him. Edilio could not.

And what Edilio had to do next would destroy Roscoe's last hope.

Edilio looked at the plywood. Three half sheets, each four by four feet. A hammer and nails. Two-by-fours.

It had to be done. It had to be. Roscoe-the things inside him-could not be allowed to escape.

Edilio dragged the first sheet across the dark hallway and propped it against the door.

"I hear someone out there!" Roscoe yelled.

"It's me, Roscoe. It's Edilio," he said.

"Edilio! Please, can you help me?"

Edilio opened the box of nails, grabbed the hammer, lined the nail up so it would go through the plywood into the door molding.

"Roscoe, there's nothing I can do, brother. I have to ... You're going to hear some hammering."

"What?"

Edilio slammed the hammer into the nail. He had to be careful; it was dark, and operating by feel alone was a bad way to hammer nails.

This was going to take a long time.

"Roscoe, I have to do this, man," Edilio said.

"You're going to lock me in here and let me die?"

Edilio hesitated. "Yes."

"No way. No way. No!"

"And I have to do the same thing to the window, man."

"Edilio, no. No, man. You don't want to do this."

"No, I don't want to do this," Edilio said.

Roscoe fell silent as Edilio nailed the remaining plywood in place. Edilio propped the two-by-four against the plywood and nailed it into place. The other end he nailed into the floor with ma.s.sive long nails that took forever to hammer in.

Outside in the fresh air, Edilio steeled himself for what came next. He leaned the ladder against the building and with some difficulty wrestled a sheet of plywood up the ladder. He was going to fall and kill himself, he thought, and it would be justice, wouldn't it?

Roscoe was there at the window. His face was ghostly in the pale moonlight. "Isn't there anything ... ?" Roscoe pleaded.

"Sam can't even kill the things," Edilio said. "He tried but he couldn't. I can't let them hurt more people."

"Yeah," Roscoe said. He nodded, jaw so stiff his teeth were cracking audibly.

"Sorry, man," Edilio said. He slapped the wood into place against the window, resting it precariously on the narrow sill.

"Tell everyone I was ever mean to that I'm sorry," Roscoe said, his voice m.u.f.fled now.

"You were never mean to anyone, man. You were a good guy." Edilio winced, realizing too late that he was using the past tense. He quickly drove in the first nail. He hit his thumb with the hammer. The pain was stunning.

He welcomed it.

Orc woke to a headache and s.h.i.+vers.

He was facedown. On the sand. The surf was lapping at his legs, covering his feet, gently surging to wash over his calves.

His head was a single giant ball of pain.

There was sand in his mouth. Sand in the cracks between the pebbles that formed his skin.

He could see the bottles. Just a few inches from his head, empty. Not even a tiny little drop left.

He was still drunk, he had not slept long enough to sober up. But he was no longer blacked-out, brain-dead drunk.

He was naked. That surprised him a little. But he had vague memories of ripping his stained, filthy clothes off and rampaging like a wild animal through the water. Bellowing.

There was no one to see him anyway. No one around. No one was going to hang around when Orc went crazy.

Scared of me, Orc thought. Surprise, surprise. Orc the monster, all covered in his own c.r.a.p and staggering and lurching through waist-high water trying to get clean, scared people.

He decided to go look for another bottle, quick, before it all came rus.h.i.+ng back into his head but it was too late because it was all coming back now.

He got to his knees. He might be a filthy, disgusting drunk, but he was still strong.

He'd have to walk naked through the dark streets. What did it matter? He wasn't a boy, he was a monster. A naked Orc was just a curiosity for people to laugh at. One more thing for people to find disgusting.

He tried to stand up but somehow ended up rolling onto his back. He vomited. It dribbled over the side of his face, over the last patch of human skin.

There were stars in the sky. They kind of swam around and sometimes doubled and blurred.

Here he was: Charles Merriman.

He hated himself. Hated himself so much. He had what he deserved: cold sand and colder water and pain.

Why couldn't he just die? He deserved to die. He needed to die. If there was some kind of G.o.d up there looking down at him, then G.o.d was wanting to throw up.

Of course G.o.d probably liked doing stuff like this. Charles Merriman was probably, like, his favorite person to beat on. Yeah, it was, like, I'm going to give this kid a violent drunk for a daddy, and a dumb dishrag for a mother, and I'm going to make it hard for him to even learn to read, and then, just when he's starting to finally get some respect, I'll turn him into a monster.

No one ever treated Charles Merriman like he might be a kid. Like he might not be totally worthless. Except Howard, and that was just so Howard could use him.

The only other person who had been nice to him was Astrid. Not like she liked him, but she didn't think he was sc.u.m. Like he wasn't just some nothing.

He had saved her life once. But even before that she'd been nice to him. One person. Ever.

With a supreme effort, Orc got to his feet.

In the end Sam decided to camp for the night by the train. They had crates to burn and a rea.s.suring fire roared high into the night sky.

They made a camp out of lawn furniture. They ate Nutella and drank Pepsi, nowhere near tired of the sweetness.

They stared into the flames and up at the sparks.

"If we bring kids here, they're going to find out about the missiles," Dekka said.

"Yeah," Sam agreed. He made a keep it down gesture and added a significant glance at Toto, who was dozing fitfully on a wicker chaise lounge.

"We can't get all this to town. They have to come here."

"Yep," Sam said.

"What we need right now is a bunch of ... what were they called?"

"M3-MAAWS," Jack said. "Multi-role Anti-Armor Anti-Personnel Weapons System." He was reading the instruction manual by the light of the fire.

Sam rolled his eyes. "M3s. Yeah, this would be, like, the last thing I would want to see getting into a kid's hands."

"Can we hide them?" Dekka suggested.

"I won't tell anyone," Jack said distractedly. "I don't want kids coming here and stealing my 'puters, anyway."

"We have a new member of our little band," Sam said. "Toto the truth teller. I don't think he's great at keeping secrets."

He got up to throw another wooden crate on the fire. The fire would most likely keep the coyotes away. He yawned and flopped into the wicker rocking chair and hefted his sore feet onto the little table.

"You know what?" Sam said. "I keep forgetting: I am not the guy in charge." He laughed contentedly. "I'll tell Albert. I'll hand Toto off to Edilio. Then? Not my problem."

"Yeah, that's totally going to work, Sam," Dekka said.

Sam noticed her feeling her stomach, pressing in on it, frowning.

"Anything the matter?" he asked.

Dekka shook her head. "I think I'll get some sleep."

Sam nodded off. At some time in the night he woke to see the fire had burned down to glowing coals. He saw Dekka some distance away, just outside the circle of firelight. She had her back to him, her s.h.i.+rt lifted up to expose her stomach, which she prodded and poked.

Sam went back to sleep and came fully awake what felt like mere seconds later, though the fire was almost entirely out and Dekka was on her own chair, snoring.

Something. Something out there in the dark.

Coyotes? He didn't want a fight with coyotes-if he or one of the others was badly hurt, there was no easy way to get back to Lana.

He raised his hand and tossed a Sammy sun into the air. It hovered ten feet up, casting a sickly light over the camp. Jack and Toto asleep. Dekka, no longer.

"What is it?" Dekka hissed.

"Don't know." He pointed to the direction he thought the sound had come from. Then, in a voice pitched loud enough to be heard but not loud enough to wake his sleeping companions, he said, "If anyone's out there, I am Bright Hands. I will burn you if you bother us."

No answer.

A faint but definite rustling sound. Maybe a clicking. Maybe not. Then silence.

"So much for sleep," Sam said.

"I'll sit watch," Dekka said.

"Dekka: you have anything you need to tell me?"

He heard her sigh. "Just being paranoid, Sam. Just, you know, making sure. My stomach was just rumbling and I thought maybe ... You know."

"Dekka, the last time you had anything even a little bit sweet was months ago. It's not a surprise your stomach would be a little off."

"Yeah. I know. Is yours?"

"Sure. A little," Sam lied.

Jack woke with a loud snort and a crash as he smashed his arm down, crus.h.i.+ng a table.

"What?" he yelled. He sat up. Rubbed his face. Found his gla.s.ses. "Why are we awake? It's still night."

"It's true: it is nighttime," Toto said.

"Well, if we're all up, we might as well push on. Sooner the better," Sam said with a sigh. "Let's go find this lake."

Sanjit was slight in build. But he was strong. So when Lana collapsed he was able to catch her and hold her.

Dahra saw it happen. "She needs sleep," she said to Sanjit. "Get her out of here."

"What about you?" Sanjit asked.

"I've gotten really good at grabbing power naps," Dahra said. "Besides, Virtue is almost as much use around here as you are."

"Almost?" Virtue grumbled.

He had come to the so-called hospital with word that Bowie was doing much better. He had tucked the rest of his brothers and sisters into bed with too little water and too little food. And now he was helping Dahra.

Dahra put a hand on his shoulder and said, "You're a life-saver, Virtue. My little African brother, here."