“Pack Leader!” Drake bellowed. “You coward!”
The annihilating beam of light swung toward him. He hit the floor, cursing, and rolled out toward the door.
Quinn felt as well as heard the wall between the day care and the hardware store rumble and crack.
A few seconds later he saw the coyotes pouring in a panicked jumble into the alley and racing off this way and that.
And then Drake appeared.
Quinn shrank down behind the parapet. Brianna rushed boldly to look over.
“It’s Drake. Now’s your chance.”
“Get down, you idiot,” Quinn hissed.
She rounded on him, furious. “Give me the gun, you wimp.”
“You don’t even know how to shoot it,” Quinn whined. “Besides, he’s probably already gone. He was running.”
Brianna looked again. “He’s hiding. He’s behind the Dumpster.”
Quinn nerved himself to look, just a peek, just enough to see. Brianna was right: Drake was behind the Dumpster, waiting.
The back door of the hardware store opened and Sam emerged alone. He looked left and right, but was unable to spot Drake.
Brianna yelled, “Sam, behind the Dumpster.”
Sam whirled, but Drake was too quick. He snapped his whip, slashed Sam’s defensive arm, and ran straight at and over Sam.
Sam landed on his back and rolled over quickly, but not quickly enough. With inhuman speed, the whip hand sliced the air and cut a bright stripe across Sam’s back, right through his shirt.
Sam cried out.
Brianna began hauling the aluminum ladder to the edge, but her speed betrayed her. She lost control of the ladder and it clattered down into the alley.
Drake had his whip around Sam’s throat now, choking, squeezing. Killing.
Quinn could see Sam’s face turning red. Sam thrust his hands back over his shoulders and fired blind.
The beams singed Drake’s face but did not stop him. He threw Sam hard against the alley wall. Quinn heard the sickening crunch of skull on brick. Sam slumped, barely conscious.
“Forget Caine,” Drake crowed, “I’m taking you down myself.”
He raised his whip hand, ready to bring it down with enough force to lay Sam open from hip to neck.
Quinn fired.
The kick of the gun in his hands surprised him. It had happened without conscious thought. He hadn’t aimed, hadn’t carefully squeezed the trigger like he’d learned to do, he’d just fired on instinct.
The bullets left pockmarks in the brick.
Drake whirled, and Quinn rose shakily to his feet, standing now in full view.
“You,” Drake said.
“I don’t want to have to kill anyone,” Quinn said in a shaky voice that barely carried.
“You’ll die for this, Quinn.”
Quinn swallowed hard, and this time took careful aim.
That was too much for Drake. With a furious snarl he ran from the alley.
Sam was slow getting up. To Quinn, he looked like an old man standing up after slipping on the ice. But he looked up at Quinn and performed a sort of salute.
“I owe you, Quinn.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t get him,” Quinn answered.
Sam shook his head. “Man, don’t ever be sorry you don’t want to kill someone.” Then, spotting Brianna, he shook off his weariness and said, “Breeze? With me. Quinn, anyone comes back toward the day care, you don’t have to shoot them, all right? But fire into the air so we know.”
“I can do that,” Quinn said.
Sam ran toward the plaza, confident that Brianna would catch up quickly. She was with him in seconds.
“What’s up?” she asked.
“Everyone’s putting on a show of complying with Caine’s terms. If we’re lucky, Bug will report back that we’re obeying before Drake gets back to tell Caine that we’ve retaken the day care.”
“You want me to go after Drake?”
“Use those fast feet. Find him if you can, but don’t try to fight him, just tell me.”
She was gone before he could add, “Be careful.”
Sam broke into a trot that seemed painfully slow compared with the way Brianna moved. The kids, the normals, more than a hundred of them, all who could be rounded up on short notice, were milling around at one end of the plaza. Sam was counting on Caine not knowing exactly how many kids were in Perdido Beach, or how many were in town as opposed to hiding in their homes. He needed to make it look convincing, but Caine’s demand left room for some few to still be hidden away with Edilio.
Astrid and Little Pete, Dekka and Taylor and the rest of the Coates Freaks were entering the church, protesting loudly, making a show of it.
Sam strode to the fountain and jumped up on the side. “Okay, Bug, I know you’re watching. Go tell Caine we’ve done what he asked. Tell him I’m waiting. Tell him if he’s not a coward, to come here and face me like a man.”
He jumped down, ignoring the stares of the hundred or more kids huddled scared and vulnerable in the plaza.
Had Bug seen what went down in the day care? He had certainly heard the shots. Hopefully he would interpret them as coming from Drake himself, or as target practice.
And just as dangerous, would Drake be able to warn Caine? He should find out soon. Either way, Sam doubted that Caine could resist a face-to-face confrontation. His ego demanded it.
Sam’s walkie-talkie crackled. He had the volume turned down low and had to hold it to his ear to hear Astrid.
The annihilating beam of light swung toward him. He hit the floor, cursing, and rolled out toward the door.
Quinn felt as well as heard the wall between the day care and the hardware store rumble and crack.
A few seconds later he saw the coyotes pouring in a panicked jumble into the alley and racing off this way and that.
And then Drake appeared.
Quinn shrank down behind the parapet. Brianna rushed boldly to look over.
“It’s Drake. Now’s your chance.”
“Get down, you idiot,” Quinn hissed.
She rounded on him, furious. “Give me the gun, you wimp.”
“You don’t even know how to shoot it,” Quinn whined. “Besides, he’s probably already gone. He was running.”
Brianna looked again. “He’s hiding. He’s behind the Dumpster.”
Quinn nerved himself to look, just a peek, just enough to see. Brianna was right: Drake was behind the Dumpster, waiting.
The back door of the hardware store opened and Sam emerged alone. He looked left and right, but was unable to spot Drake.
Brianna yelled, “Sam, behind the Dumpster.”
Sam whirled, but Drake was too quick. He snapped his whip, slashed Sam’s defensive arm, and ran straight at and over Sam.
Sam landed on his back and rolled over quickly, but not quickly enough. With inhuman speed, the whip hand sliced the air and cut a bright stripe across Sam’s back, right through his shirt.
Sam cried out.
Brianna began hauling the aluminum ladder to the edge, but her speed betrayed her. She lost control of the ladder and it clattered down into the alley.
Drake had his whip around Sam’s throat now, choking, squeezing. Killing.
Quinn could see Sam’s face turning red. Sam thrust his hands back over his shoulders and fired blind.
The beams singed Drake’s face but did not stop him. He threw Sam hard against the alley wall. Quinn heard the sickening crunch of skull on brick. Sam slumped, barely conscious.
“Forget Caine,” Drake crowed, “I’m taking you down myself.”
He raised his whip hand, ready to bring it down with enough force to lay Sam open from hip to neck.
Quinn fired.
The kick of the gun in his hands surprised him. It had happened without conscious thought. He hadn’t aimed, hadn’t carefully squeezed the trigger like he’d learned to do, he’d just fired on instinct.
The bullets left pockmarks in the brick.
Drake whirled, and Quinn rose shakily to his feet, standing now in full view.
“You,” Drake said.
“I don’t want to have to kill anyone,” Quinn said in a shaky voice that barely carried.
“You’ll die for this, Quinn.”
Quinn swallowed hard, and this time took careful aim.
That was too much for Drake. With a furious snarl he ran from the alley.
Sam was slow getting up. To Quinn, he looked like an old man standing up after slipping on the ice. But he looked up at Quinn and performed a sort of salute.
“I owe you, Quinn.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t get him,” Quinn answered.
Sam shook his head. “Man, don’t ever be sorry you don’t want to kill someone.” Then, spotting Brianna, he shook off his weariness and said, “Breeze? With me. Quinn, anyone comes back toward the day care, you don’t have to shoot them, all right? But fire into the air so we know.”
“I can do that,” Quinn said.
Sam ran toward the plaza, confident that Brianna would catch up quickly. She was with him in seconds.
“What’s up?” she asked.
“Everyone’s putting on a show of complying with Caine’s terms. If we’re lucky, Bug will report back that we’re obeying before Drake gets back to tell Caine that we’ve retaken the day care.”
“You want me to go after Drake?”
“Use those fast feet. Find him if you can, but don’t try to fight him, just tell me.”
She was gone before he could add, “Be careful.”
Sam broke into a trot that seemed painfully slow compared with the way Brianna moved. The kids, the normals, more than a hundred of them, all who could be rounded up on short notice, were milling around at one end of the plaza. Sam was counting on Caine not knowing exactly how many kids were in Perdido Beach, or how many were in town as opposed to hiding in their homes. He needed to make it look convincing, but Caine’s demand left room for some few to still be hidden away with Edilio.
Astrid and Little Pete, Dekka and Taylor and the rest of the Coates Freaks were entering the church, protesting loudly, making a show of it.
Sam strode to the fountain and jumped up on the side. “Okay, Bug, I know you’re watching. Go tell Caine we’ve done what he asked. Tell him I’m waiting. Tell him if he’s not a coward, to come here and face me like a man.”
He jumped down, ignoring the stares of the hundred or more kids huddled scared and vulnerable in the plaza.
Had Bug seen what went down in the day care? He had certainly heard the shots. Hopefully he would interpret them as coming from Drake himself, or as target practice.
And just as dangerous, would Drake be able to warn Caine? He should find out soon. Either way, Sam doubted that Caine could resist a face-to-face confrontation. His ego demanded it.
Sam’s walkie-talkie crackled. He had the volume turned down low and had to hold it to his ear to hear Astrid.
