Fear
Page 77

 Michael Grant

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Brianna glanced anxiously at the sky. She couldn’t stay out here. And she couldn’t go back to Sam with empty hands. It would be the end of her. She had disobeyed orders before, but now to be such a failure, nothing but a few dead coyotes … and a failure when her powers might be almost useless…
She was nothing if she was not the Breeze.
She dashed to the top of the nearest hill, a scraped-bald thing maybe two thousand feet tall. She could make out the lake, shimmering strangely in the unnatural light. Turning the other way she could see the ocean. The road was hidden from view.
What to do?
Then she saw what looked like a person walking. To the north. It was hard to be sure because of the light and the narrowness of the gap between two hills. But she thought she saw a single person moving.
Brianna said a prayer that it might be Drake. She had a plan for dealing with him. A plan that would make Sam proud. She was going to slice and dice him and use her speed to spread the parts all around the FAYZ.
Hah! See if Drake could put himself back together then.
It would be great. If.
TWENTY-SEVEN
10 HOURS, 54 MINUTES
DIANA’S LEGS ACHED. Her bare feet were bloody. Justin was trying to help her but there was no way to ease the pain of bare soles on sharp stone.
Anytime she slowed or stumbled Drake would snap his whip, and the pain of that was so much worse.
She couldn’t imagine that she would make it to the gaiaphage alive.
Diana knew that was the objective. Drake had taken to gloating about it. She’d had plenty of opportunity to think of snide remarks. But each one came at the cost of another slice in her flesh. Or worse yet, Justin’s. So she stumbled along in silence.
“Don’t know what he wants with you,” Drake said, not for the first time, “but whatever he leaves is mine. That’s all I know. Make some of your witty remarks to the gaiaphage. Hah. Try that.”
He was still looking over his shoulder constantly. Diana had come to think of it as Breezanoia—a terrible fear of Brianna.
“She can come zooming up all she wants,” Drake said. “See if she can cut me without cutting the brat. See if she can do that.”
Drake was spiraling down almost as fast as Diana herself. His fear was palpable. And not just fear of Brianna. The dying of the light scared him, too.
“Gotta get there before dark,” he muttered more than once.
Diana realized that once absolute night fell Drake would be as lost as anyone. And then how would he keep control of Diana and Justin?
No comfort. They could get away from Drake. Maybe. And then what?
Diana’s hand went to her stomach. The baby kicked.
The baby. The three-bar baby. The baby was what he wanted, of course. Diana had no doubt about that. The dark creature wanted her baby.
When she could take her mind off the agony in her feet and legs and back, when she could suspend for a brief few seconds the crushing fear that bore down on her, Diana tried to understand. What did it want with her baby?
Why was this happening?
She missed her step, stumbled, and landed hard on her knees. She cried out in pain, and then screamed as the lash landed across her back.
In a rage she flew at him. Her fists punched and her fingernails tore but he was far too quick. He punched her in the face. It was not a slap. It was a full, hard punch. Her head swam and she saw stars.
Just like a cartoon, she thought. Then she fell straight back.
When she came to she found Justin next to her, holding on to her and crying.
Brittney was seated a few feet away.
The circle of blue sky was the color of new denim, and smaller, noticeably smaller than it had been. The sky was a black, featureless bowl.
“You’re pregnant, aren’t you?” Brittney asked almost shyly.
It took Diana a few moments to make sense of things. Drake was not here. Drake couldn’t be here so long as Brittney was.
Whip Hand was not here.
Diana climbed quickly to her feet. “Come on, Justin, we’re out of here.”
“I found some rocks,” Brittney said. She held up a good-size rock in each hand. “I can hit you with them.”
Diana laughed in her face. “Bring it, zombie freak. You’re not the only one who can find a rock.”
“Yes, that’s true,” Brittney said. “But it won’t hurt me when you hit me. And you can’t kill me.” Then, as an afterthought she added, “Anyway, I’m not a zombie. I don’t eat people.”
“Why are you doing this, Brittney? You were the one fighting us at the power plant. You were on Sam’s side. Or don’t you remember that?”
“I remember,” she said.
Diana’s mind was turning at top speed. If she told Justin to run back toward the lake, how far would he get before the darkness closed in? Which was worse? To wander alone in the dark until he fell off a cliff or was scented by a coyote or wandered into a zeke field or … or … or…
“Then what happened to you? Why are you helping Drake? You should be fighting him every time you get the chance.”
She smiled and Diana saw the broken wire sticking out of her braces. “I can’t ever fight Drake, you know. We’re never together.”
“Exactly. So whenever he’s gone you can—”
“I’m not doing this for Drake,” Brittney said earnestly. “I’m doing this for my lord.”
“Your… Your what? Your what? You think God wants you to be doing this? Did you go stupid on top of being undead?”