He glanced to his right. Gunfire still kept the turbine room doorway clear. Edilio was flattened against the wall, unable to do anything but reload and keep firing blindly. His soldiers had been ordered back to safety behind parked cars.
The attack was failing.
Sam stood up, fighting nausea and dizziness. He faced the wall again. He could shoot through the outer wall, through the room beyond, and hit the lead shield. But his deadly light was diffused at that distance. And he had no room to ply the blowtorch back and forth and widen the hole.
He raised his hands and unleashed the power. The lead sheath melted quickly. But too late, Sam knew. Too late for surprise. Too late.
And in the end, too little.
A red-rimmed hole about the size of a manhole cover dripped melted lead like tears.
Then a familiar voice cried, “Sam!”
Sam ignored it.
“Sam, in three seconds I’m pushing one of my hostages into this hole you’ve made,” Caine yelled. “One!”
Sam widened the gap as much as he could, working the edges, melting lead.
“Two!”
He couldn’t stop, Sam told himself.
But if he didn’t stop, he had no doubt, none, that Caine would make good on his threat. Caine could literally hurl one of the hostages into the fiery hole Sam was burning.
Sam dropped his hands. The light died.
“That’s better,” Caine yelled.
“Come out now, Caine, and maybe I let you walk away in one piece,” Sam blustered.
“Here’s the thing, brother,” Caine called back. “I have two of your people. Give a shout-out, kids.”
“It’s me, Sam. It’s Mike Farmer! Mickey’s here, too. And Britt, she’s . . . she’s hurt.”
Sam shot a look at Dekka. She stared back at him, stone faced. Caine had said two hostages. So he was counting Brittney as dead.
And no mention of Brianna. The Breeze was not a hostage. At the same time, Sam told himself, Mike hadn’t listed her, either. So at least she wasn’t lying defeated in that room.
The gunfire at the doorway had ceased. Edilio still stood ready, but not knowing what to do next.
“Let them go, Caine,” Sam said wearily.
“I don’t think I’m going to do that,” Caine answered.
Sam ran his hand through his hair, beside himself with frustration.
“What is it you want?” Sam asked. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I have the power plant, that’s obvious,” Caine said. “Stupid of you to lose it, Sam.”
Sam had no answer to that.
“What I’m going to do, Sam, is turn off the power to Perdido Beach.”
“You do that, you’ll be sitting in the dark, too,” Sam shouted back.
“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” Caine said with a laugh. “But it turns out that’s not true. It seems we can turn off some parts of the grid from here and not affect other parts.”
“I think you’re bluffing, Caine. I’ve seen the control room. It would take you a week to make any sense out of it.”
Caine laughed easily. “Oh, man, you are right about that, brother. Hey, it would probably take me a month. And Diana’s no better at the techie stuff. And Drake, well, you know Drake. But . . .”
Sam knew what was coming next. He closed his eyes and hung his head.
“Fortunately, our mutual friend Computer Jack, here, he’s pretty much got it whipped. In fact . . . How’s it going, Jack? Got it yet?”
There was a murmur, barely audible. Then, Caine again, taunting. “Guess what, Sam?”
Sam refused to answer.
“Jack here says the lights just went off in Perdido Beach.”
Caine laughed, a wild, triumphant sound.
Sam caught Taylor’s eye. She teleported over to him. “Check it out,” he said. The girl nodded once and disappeared.
“You sending Brianna to check it out?” Caine shouted. “Or Taylor?”
Sam said nothing. He waited.
Taylor popped back into view, right beside him.
“I bounced to a bend in the road where you can see town,” she reported.
“And?”
TWENTY-FIVE
17 HOURS, 54 MINUTES
DUCK HAD ARGUED with himself all the way home. Hunter’s problem was not his problem, he told himself. Okay, maybe he was a freak now, too, like Hunter, but so what? He had some stupid, useless power—why did that mean he had to buy a piece of Hunter’s grief?
Hunter was a jerk. And all the people Duck liked were normals. Mostly. He liked Sam, of course, in a sort of distant way. But, man, how was he suddenly supposed to be choosing sides in a fight he didn’t even know was happening?
However, he didn’t like the idea of just leaving Hunter hiding out hungry in the rubble outside the church. That seemed kind of harsh.
By the time he had reached the relative safety of his home, Duck had talked himself out of doing anything one way or the other. And then he talked himself into the opposite position. And back again.
He found himself looking in the kitchen cupboards. Just to see. Just to see if it was even possible to help Hunter out.
There wasn’t much to see in the kitchen. Two cans of veggies. A jar of hot dog relish, but not even the sweet kind. A half-empty bag of flour and some oil. He’d learned how to cook a sort of nasty-tasting tortilla with the flour and a little water and oil. It was the current popular favorite in the FAYZ, something even the most kitchen-impaired could kind of figure out.
The attack was failing.
Sam stood up, fighting nausea and dizziness. He faced the wall again. He could shoot through the outer wall, through the room beyond, and hit the lead shield. But his deadly light was diffused at that distance. And he had no room to ply the blowtorch back and forth and widen the hole.
He raised his hands and unleashed the power. The lead sheath melted quickly. But too late, Sam knew. Too late for surprise. Too late.
And in the end, too little.
A red-rimmed hole about the size of a manhole cover dripped melted lead like tears.
Then a familiar voice cried, “Sam!”
Sam ignored it.
“Sam, in three seconds I’m pushing one of my hostages into this hole you’ve made,” Caine yelled. “One!”
Sam widened the gap as much as he could, working the edges, melting lead.
“Two!”
He couldn’t stop, Sam told himself.
But if he didn’t stop, he had no doubt, none, that Caine would make good on his threat. Caine could literally hurl one of the hostages into the fiery hole Sam was burning.
Sam dropped his hands. The light died.
“That’s better,” Caine yelled.
“Come out now, Caine, and maybe I let you walk away in one piece,” Sam blustered.
“Here’s the thing, brother,” Caine called back. “I have two of your people. Give a shout-out, kids.”
“It’s me, Sam. It’s Mike Farmer! Mickey’s here, too. And Britt, she’s . . . she’s hurt.”
Sam shot a look at Dekka. She stared back at him, stone faced. Caine had said two hostages. So he was counting Brittney as dead.
And no mention of Brianna. The Breeze was not a hostage. At the same time, Sam told himself, Mike hadn’t listed her, either. So at least she wasn’t lying defeated in that room.
The gunfire at the doorway had ceased. Edilio still stood ready, but not knowing what to do next.
“Let them go, Caine,” Sam said wearily.
“I don’t think I’m going to do that,” Caine answered.
Sam ran his hand through his hair, beside himself with frustration.
“What is it you want?” Sam asked. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I have the power plant, that’s obvious,” Caine said. “Stupid of you to lose it, Sam.”
Sam had no answer to that.
“What I’m going to do, Sam, is turn off the power to Perdido Beach.”
“You do that, you’ll be sitting in the dark, too,” Sam shouted back.
“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” Caine said with a laugh. “But it turns out that’s not true. It seems we can turn off some parts of the grid from here and not affect other parts.”
“I think you’re bluffing, Caine. I’ve seen the control room. It would take you a week to make any sense out of it.”
Caine laughed easily. “Oh, man, you are right about that, brother. Hey, it would probably take me a month. And Diana’s no better at the techie stuff. And Drake, well, you know Drake. But . . .”
Sam knew what was coming next. He closed his eyes and hung his head.
“Fortunately, our mutual friend Computer Jack, here, he’s pretty much got it whipped. In fact . . . How’s it going, Jack? Got it yet?”
There was a murmur, barely audible. Then, Caine again, taunting. “Guess what, Sam?”
Sam refused to answer.
“Jack here says the lights just went off in Perdido Beach.”
Caine laughed, a wild, triumphant sound.
Sam caught Taylor’s eye. She teleported over to him. “Check it out,” he said. The girl nodded once and disappeared.
“You sending Brianna to check it out?” Caine shouted. “Or Taylor?”
Sam said nothing. He waited.
Taylor popped back into view, right beside him.
“I bounced to a bend in the road where you can see town,” she reported.
“And?”
TWENTY-FIVE
17 HOURS, 54 MINUTES
DUCK HAD ARGUED with himself all the way home. Hunter’s problem was not his problem, he told himself. Okay, maybe he was a freak now, too, like Hunter, but so what? He had some stupid, useless power—why did that mean he had to buy a piece of Hunter’s grief?
Hunter was a jerk. And all the people Duck liked were normals. Mostly. He liked Sam, of course, in a sort of distant way. But, man, how was he suddenly supposed to be choosing sides in a fight he didn’t even know was happening?
However, he didn’t like the idea of just leaving Hunter hiding out hungry in the rubble outside the church. That seemed kind of harsh.
By the time he had reached the relative safety of his home, Duck had talked himself out of doing anything one way or the other. And then he talked himself into the opposite position. And back again.
He found himself looking in the kitchen cupboards. Just to see. Just to see if it was even possible to help Hunter out.
There wasn’t much to see in the kitchen. Two cans of veggies. A jar of hot dog relish, but not even the sweet kind. A half-empty bag of flour and some oil. He’d learned how to cook a sort of nasty-tasting tortilla with the flour and a little water and oil. It was the current popular favorite in the FAYZ, something even the most kitchen-impaired could kind of figure out.
