“Duck,” Sam said.
And Caine did, instinctively. There was a rush of wind and a cloud of dust and all at once, there was Brianna.
And towing along behind her, like some crazy balloon on a rope, a kid floating in midair and looking like someone had just taken him on a roller-coaster ride from hell.
“Are we there?” Duck, asked, his eyes squeezed shut. “Am I done now?”
“You want to eat?” Zil roared from atop his convertible perch.
The crowd roared its assent. Though not every voice. Astrid clung to that fact: there was grumbling and uncertainty as well as acquiescence.
“Then grab on to the rope!” Zil cried.
The rope stretched across the plaza. It ended around Hunter’s neck. It would take no more than half a dozen willing executioners to do the foul deed.
Astrid began to pray. She prayed in a loud voice, hoping it would shame them, hoping that somehow it would reach through the madness.
“Grab on!” Zil cried, and he jumped down and seized the rope himself. The rest of his crew did the same.
Then four . . . five . . . ten . . .
Kids Astrid knew by name took hold of the rope.
“Pull!” Zil screamed. “Pull!”
The rope tightened. More came forward and took hold. But others, just a couple, changed their minds and let go.
It was a confusion of hands. A mess that turned suddenly to a shoving match.
The rope still tightened. It became a straight line.
And Astrid, to her eternal horror, saw Hunter lifted off his feet.
But the fight over the rope had turned nastier. Kids were pummeling one another, shouting, swinging wild fists.
The rope slackened. Hunter’s kicking feet touched the ground.
Kids rushed to pull on the rope. Others blocked their way. It was becoming a kind of full-scale riot. And then a couple of kids rushed at the meat, pushing past Antoine and Hank and Turk, literally walking over them in their desperation.
Astrid took advantage of the melee to climb to her feet.
Zil, enraged at losing control, at seeing the venison snatched away by desperate hands, shoved her hard.
“Down on the ground, you freak-lover!”
Astrid spit at him. She could see the color drain from Zil’s furious face. He grabbed a baseball bat, raised it over her. And then he flew into the air.
In his place stood Orc.
Zil was dangling from his fist. Orc drew Zil to within an inch of his own frightening face. “No one hurts Astrid,” Orc bellowed so loud, Zil’s hair was blown back.
Orc took a slow spin. Then a second, faster one, and launched Zil through the air.
“You okay?” Orc asked Astrid.
“I guess so,” she managed to say. She knelt beside Little Pete and touched the egg-sized lump on his head. He moved slightly, then opened his eyes.
“Petey. Petey. Are you okay?” There was no answer, but for Little Pete, that wasn’t abnormal. Astrid looked up at Orc. “Thanks, Charles.”
Orc grunted. “Yeah.”
Howard appeared, threading his way through the scattering mob. “My man, Orc,” he said, and slapped Orc on his massive granite shoulder. Then, to the fleeing crowd, many loaded down with chunks of venison, he yelled, “Yeah, you better run away. You are some sorry fools messing with Sam’s girl. If Orc doesn’t get you, Sammy will.”
He winked at Astrid. “Your boy so owes us.”
“Yeah,” Orc agreed. “Someone better beer me pretty soon.”
“What happened to Edilio?” Brianna demanded. He was lying on the ground. Silent. Not even the sound of breathing.
Quinn answered. “Edilio’s been shot. I don’t think he has long.”
“I can’t believe Dekka let him get hurt,” Brianna said. “Where is she?”
Quinn’s involuntary glance was all Brianna needed. She flew to where Dekka lay, crumpled like a doll someone had tossed aside.
Brianna breathed hard. Stared. There was a rushing waterfall in her ears. A roar. Then a blur as the world around her screamed past and she hit Caine with all the speed and fury at her command. Caine went sprawling.
Brianna was on him before he could draw breath, and now a rock was in her hand.
“Breeze! No!” Sam yelled.
Brianna froze. Caine was on his back. He did nothing. He did not raise his hands. Barely seemed to notice her as she squatted, poised to hit him with the rock, poised to hit him a hundred times before he could flinch.
“No, Breeze,” Sam said. “We need him.”
“I don’t need him,” Brianna hissed.
“Breeze. Dekka’s gone. Edilio will be dead in a few minutes. If he isn’t already,” Quinn said, speaking for Sam, who was clenching his teeth with such force that Brianna thought his molars might splinter. “And Sam . . .”
“What can this piece of filth do?” Brianna demanded.
“We need Lana,” Sam managed to say.
Caine picked himself up and brushed the dirt from his shirt. “Diana is dying. The Mexican kid is dying. Dekka, well, you saw her. And Sam doesn’t look too good,” Caine said. “Lana’s in there.” He jerked his head toward the collapsed mine shaft.
“What I don’t get,” Caine continued, “is how we’re getting in there to find her. The whole mine collapsed. It will take me a lot longer to dig out than it did to collapse it. I pull stuff out, more falls in.”
“Duck,” Sam said. “He’s going to drill a tunnel.”
And Caine did, instinctively. There was a rush of wind and a cloud of dust and all at once, there was Brianna.
And towing along behind her, like some crazy balloon on a rope, a kid floating in midair and looking like someone had just taken him on a roller-coaster ride from hell.
“Are we there?” Duck, asked, his eyes squeezed shut. “Am I done now?”
“You want to eat?” Zil roared from atop his convertible perch.
The crowd roared its assent. Though not every voice. Astrid clung to that fact: there was grumbling and uncertainty as well as acquiescence.
“Then grab on to the rope!” Zil cried.
The rope stretched across the plaza. It ended around Hunter’s neck. It would take no more than half a dozen willing executioners to do the foul deed.
Astrid began to pray. She prayed in a loud voice, hoping it would shame them, hoping that somehow it would reach through the madness.
“Grab on!” Zil cried, and he jumped down and seized the rope himself. The rest of his crew did the same.
Then four . . . five . . . ten . . .
Kids Astrid knew by name took hold of the rope.
“Pull!” Zil screamed. “Pull!”
The rope tightened. More came forward and took hold. But others, just a couple, changed their minds and let go.
It was a confusion of hands. A mess that turned suddenly to a shoving match.
The rope still tightened. It became a straight line.
And Astrid, to her eternal horror, saw Hunter lifted off his feet.
But the fight over the rope had turned nastier. Kids were pummeling one another, shouting, swinging wild fists.
The rope slackened. Hunter’s kicking feet touched the ground.
Kids rushed to pull on the rope. Others blocked their way. It was becoming a kind of full-scale riot. And then a couple of kids rushed at the meat, pushing past Antoine and Hank and Turk, literally walking over them in their desperation.
Astrid took advantage of the melee to climb to her feet.
Zil, enraged at losing control, at seeing the venison snatched away by desperate hands, shoved her hard.
“Down on the ground, you freak-lover!”
Astrid spit at him. She could see the color drain from Zil’s furious face. He grabbed a baseball bat, raised it over her. And then he flew into the air.
In his place stood Orc.
Zil was dangling from his fist. Orc drew Zil to within an inch of his own frightening face. “No one hurts Astrid,” Orc bellowed so loud, Zil’s hair was blown back.
Orc took a slow spin. Then a second, faster one, and launched Zil through the air.
“You okay?” Orc asked Astrid.
“I guess so,” she managed to say. She knelt beside Little Pete and touched the egg-sized lump on his head. He moved slightly, then opened his eyes.
“Petey. Petey. Are you okay?” There was no answer, but for Little Pete, that wasn’t abnormal. Astrid looked up at Orc. “Thanks, Charles.”
Orc grunted. “Yeah.”
Howard appeared, threading his way through the scattering mob. “My man, Orc,” he said, and slapped Orc on his massive granite shoulder. Then, to the fleeing crowd, many loaded down with chunks of venison, he yelled, “Yeah, you better run away. You are some sorry fools messing with Sam’s girl. If Orc doesn’t get you, Sammy will.”
He winked at Astrid. “Your boy so owes us.”
“Yeah,” Orc agreed. “Someone better beer me pretty soon.”
“What happened to Edilio?” Brianna demanded. He was lying on the ground. Silent. Not even the sound of breathing.
Quinn answered. “Edilio’s been shot. I don’t think he has long.”
“I can’t believe Dekka let him get hurt,” Brianna said. “Where is she?”
Quinn’s involuntary glance was all Brianna needed. She flew to where Dekka lay, crumpled like a doll someone had tossed aside.
Brianna breathed hard. Stared. There was a rushing waterfall in her ears. A roar. Then a blur as the world around her screamed past and she hit Caine with all the speed and fury at her command. Caine went sprawling.
Brianna was on him before he could draw breath, and now a rock was in her hand.
“Breeze! No!” Sam yelled.
Brianna froze. Caine was on his back. He did nothing. He did not raise his hands. Barely seemed to notice her as she squatted, poised to hit him with the rock, poised to hit him a hundred times before he could flinch.
“No, Breeze,” Sam said. “We need him.”
“I don’t need him,” Brianna hissed.
“Breeze. Dekka’s gone. Edilio will be dead in a few minutes. If he isn’t already,” Quinn said, speaking for Sam, who was clenching his teeth with such force that Brianna thought his molars might splinter. “And Sam . . .”
“What can this piece of filth do?” Brianna demanded.
“We need Lana,” Sam managed to say.
Caine picked himself up and brushed the dirt from his shirt. “Diana is dying. The Mexican kid is dying. Dekka, well, you saw her. And Sam doesn’t look too good,” Caine said. “Lana’s in there.” He jerked his head toward the collapsed mine shaft.
“What I don’t get,” Caine continued, “is how we’re getting in there to find her. The whole mine collapsed. It will take me a lot longer to dig out than it did to collapse it. I pull stuff out, more falls in.”
“Duck,” Sam said. “He’s going to drill a tunnel.”
