He was exhausted beyond belief. His mouth and throat were parched.
And for a long time he thought it must still be night. The street was dark, but with an eerie quality that wasn’t like moonlight. Light seemed to be shining down faintly from above. Like a dull flashlight.
Shadows were eerie. They were the narrow shadows of high noon, but dim. The air itself seemed to have taken on a sepia color, as if he was looking at an old photograph.
Caine noticed Penny craning her neck and staring up at the sky. He blinked the blood out of his eyes and painfully twisted his neck back to see.
The dome was black. The sky was a blue hole in a black sphere.
Caine began to notice kids in the street, all walking toward the plaza. Their voices had that giddy, jumpy sound kids got when they were scared. He watched the backs of heads as they craned to look up at the sky.
People were walking hunched over, like they thought the sky might fall on them.
It was a while longer before the first person noticed Penny and Caine. That kid’s cries turned every eye toward Caine.
He didn’t know what to expect. Outrage? Joy?
What he got was silence. Kids would be talking, then turn to see him dragging his cement block, and the words would die in their mouths. Their eyes would widen. If there was any pleasure there it was very well concealed.
“What’s happening to the sky?” Penny demanded, finally noticing something beyond herself. She glared at the nearest kids. “Answer me or I’ll make you wish you were dead!”
Shrugs. Shakes of the head. Backing away quickly.
“Keep moving,” she snarled at Caine.
They were in the plaza now and Penny shoved Caine in the direction of town hall.
“I need water,” Caine rasped.
“Get up the stairs,” Penny said.
“Drop dead.”
And instantly a pair of rabid dogs, their necks bearing massive iron collars, their teeth glowing pink from behind mouths full of rabid foam, attacked him from behind.
He could feel their teeth sinking into his buttocks.
The pain—no, no, he told himself, the illusion, the illusion. But it was too real; it was impossible not to believe it as the dogs ripped at him and he cried out in agony and rage and dragged his burden away, up the first step.
The dogs fell back, but snarled and foamed and barked so loud he felt he might go deaf.
Caine dragged his burden up one step after the next.
At the top, in the very place where he had often addressed crowds as king, he collapsed, shaking with fatigue. He fell onto his imprisoned hands.
After a while someone pushed his head back and he felt a jar touch his lips. He drank the water, gulping it down, choking but not caring.
Caine opened his eyes and saw that the crowd had grown. And it had edged forward. Their faces wore expressions of horror and fear.
He had made enemies during his four months in charge. But what was happening now obliterated all of that. Right now this crowd was scared. Deep-down scared. Eyes went skyward again and again, checking to see if there was still any light, any light at all.
Caine searched the crowd through bleary eyes. He had one hope: Albert.
Albert would not let this stand. Albert had armed guards. He was probably figuring out right now how to save Caine.
But another part of Caine’s mind was yammering that there was no way to escape the concrete. He knew: he had inflicted this on freaks early on. And the only reason any of them had been able to escape was that Little Pete had intervened.
Caine hadn’t known at the time that it was Little Pete’s doing. He had been deaf, dumb, blind, and stupid not to realize the little autistic creep was the real power. And now Little Pete was dead and gone.
Which left breaking the concrete chip by chip with a sledgehammer.
The pain would be unbearable. It would break every bone in his hands. Lana might be able to help, but first would come the pain.
As soon as Albert dealt with Penny.
“Here’s your king!” Penny cried in a gloating voice. “See? See the crown I gave him? Do you like it?”
No one answered.
“I said, don’t you like it?” Penny screeched.
A couple of the kids nodded or muttered, “Yeah.”
“Okay,” Penny said. “Okay, then.” She sounded unsure what to do next. Her fantasy hadn’t gone any further than this. And now, Caine knew, she was trying to figure out how to enjoy her victory.
Her temporary victory.
“I know!” Penny said. “Let’s see if King Caine can dance. How about that?”
Again, the stunned and traumatized audience didn’t know how to respond.
“Dance!” Penny roared in a voice that disappeared into a squeak. “Dance, dance, dance!”
And suddenly the limestone beneath Caine’s feet burst into flames. The pain was instant and unbearable.
“Dance, dance, dance!” Penny cried, jumping up and down. She was waving her awkward arms at the kids, urging them to chant along with her.
As the flames crisped the flesh on his legs Caine kicked and jerked madly in a bizarre parody of dancing.
The flames stopped.
Caine panted, waiting for the next assault.
But now Penny seemed to be out of steam. She slumped a little and looked at him. Their eyes met and he burned hatred at her. But it had no effect. Caine knew she was insane. He’d known all along that she was a psycho, but psychos could be useful.
But this wasn’t as simple as Drake’s evil ruthlessness. This was madness. He was looking at eyes that were no longer partaking of reality.
And for a long time he thought it must still be night. The street was dark, but with an eerie quality that wasn’t like moonlight. Light seemed to be shining down faintly from above. Like a dull flashlight.
Shadows were eerie. They were the narrow shadows of high noon, but dim. The air itself seemed to have taken on a sepia color, as if he was looking at an old photograph.
Caine noticed Penny craning her neck and staring up at the sky. He blinked the blood out of his eyes and painfully twisted his neck back to see.
The dome was black. The sky was a blue hole in a black sphere.
Caine began to notice kids in the street, all walking toward the plaza. Their voices had that giddy, jumpy sound kids got when they were scared. He watched the backs of heads as they craned to look up at the sky.
People were walking hunched over, like they thought the sky might fall on them.
It was a while longer before the first person noticed Penny and Caine. That kid’s cries turned every eye toward Caine.
He didn’t know what to expect. Outrage? Joy?
What he got was silence. Kids would be talking, then turn to see him dragging his cement block, and the words would die in their mouths. Their eyes would widen. If there was any pleasure there it was very well concealed.
“What’s happening to the sky?” Penny demanded, finally noticing something beyond herself. She glared at the nearest kids. “Answer me or I’ll make you wish you were dead!”
Shrugs. Shakes of the head. Backing away quickly.
“Keep moving,” she snarled at Caine.
They were in the plaza now and Penny shoved Caine in the direction of town hall.
“I need water,” Caine rasped.
“Get up the stairs,” Penny said.
“Drop dead.”
And instantly a pair of rabid dogs, their necks bearing massive iron collars, their teeth glowing pink from behind mouths full of rabid foam, attacked him from behind.
He could feel their teeth sinking into his buttocks.
The pain—no, no, he told himself, the illusion, the illusion. But it was too real; it was impossible not to believe it as the dogs ripped at him and he cried out in agony and rage and dragged his burden away, up the first step.
The dogs fell back, but snarled and foamed and barked so loud he felt he might go deaf.
Caine dragged his burden up one step after the next.
At the top, in the very place where he had often addressed crowds as king, he collapsed, shaking with fatigue. He fell onto his imprisoned hands.
After a while someone pushed his head back and he felt a jar touch his lips. He drank the water, gulping it down, choking but not caring.
Caine opened his eyes and saw that the crowd had grown. And it had edged forward. Their faces wore expressions of horror and fear.
He had made enemies during his four months in charge. But what was happening now obliterated all of that. Right now this crowd was scared. Deep-down scared. Eyes went skyward again and again, checking to see if there was still any light, any light at all.
Caine searched the crowd through bleary eyes. He had one hope: Albert.
Albert would not let this stand. Albert had armed guards. He was probably figuring out right now how to save Caine.
But another part of Caine’s mind was yammering that there was no way to escape the concrete. He knew: he had inflicted this on freaks early on. And the only reason any of them had been able to escape was that Little Pete had intervened.
Caine hadn’t known at the time that it was Little Pete’s doing. He had been deaf, dumb, blind, and stupid not to realize the little autistic creep was the real power. And now Little Pete was dead and gone.
Which left breaking the concrete chip by chip with a sledgehammer.
The pain would be unbearable. It would break every bone in his hands. Lana might be able to help, but first would come the pain.
As soon as Albert dealt with Penny.
“Here’s your king!” Penny cried in a gloating voice. “See? See the crown I gave him? Do you like it?”
No one answered.
“I said, don’t you like it?” Penny screeched.
A couple of the kids nodded or muttered, “Yeah.”
“Okay,” Penny said. “Okay, then.” She sounded unsure what to do next. Her fantasy hadn’t gone any further than this. And now, Caine knew, she was trying to figure out how to enjoy her victory.
Her temporary victory.
“I know!” Penny said. “Let’s see if King Caine can dance. How about that?”
Again, the stunned and traumatized audience didn’t know how to respond.
“Dance!” Penny roared in a voice that disappeared into a squeak. “Dance, dance, dance!”
And suddenly the limestone beneath Caine’s feet burst into flames. The pain was instant and unbearable.
“Dance, dance, dance!” Penny cried, jumping up and down. She was waving her awkward arms at the kids, urging them to chant along with her.
As the flames crisped the flesh on his legs Caine kicked and jerked madly in a bizarre parody of dancing.
The flames stopped.
Caine panted, waiting for the next assault.
But now Penny seemed to be out of steam. She slumped a little and looked at him. Their eyes met and he burned hatred at her. But it had no effect. Caine knew she was insane. He’d known all along that she was a psycho, but psychos could be useful.
But this wasn’t as simple as Drake’s evil ruthlessness. This was madness. He was looking at eyes that were no longer partaking of reality.
