Gone Series Complete Collection (26 page)

Sam struggled against the weight, but there was no way to lift it. Even if he’d had a good angle on it, he could not have hefted it.

But Howard, for all his cleverness, had overlooked one thing: in this position, Sam could reach the Mylar with his teeth.

He tried to rip at the fabric, but it was slow work and he had no time. He had no doubt that Little Pete had teleported himself and Astrid to their home. Drake would find them there.

Sam tried to get the Mylar between his teeth, but it was slippery and tough. And when he focused on that, he lost focus on keeping the weight off his neck.

The bar pressed his knuckles into his throat. He pushed upward, but already his arms were cramping. His muscles were weakening.

He could tear at the Mylar and free his hands, or he could keep the bar from choking him. It was impossible to do both.

And even if he did free his hands, so what? He wasn’t like Caine. He didn’t have control of his powers. He might tear the Mylar and then be unable to do anything.

The bar slipped lower.

He had the Mylar between his teeth.

He chewed it, trying to make a small hole he could enlarge.

By now, Drake would be out of the school and on the move. Would he have to stop somewhere first to retrieve the gun?

Astrid would know they were going to come after her. She would know it would be dangerous to stay in her house. Would she move fast enough?

And where could she go?

Sam felt the grind of tooth on tooth. He had made a hole.

But he was gasping for breath.

He barely noticed the door opening.

Quick steps on the carpet and the sound and feel of one of the weight plates sliding off the bar. Sam took a breath.

“Hang on, brah.”

Quinn slid the rest of the weights from the bar.

With quaking arms, Sam pushed the bar up off his neck.

“I didn’t know they would do this, brah, I didn’t know, man,” Quinn said. He was pale. Like he’d never ever seen the sun. “You gotta believe me, Sam.” He was working at the ropes. Sam sat up.

Quinn was a wreck. He had been crying, and his eyes were red and puffy.

“Honest to God, I didn’t know.”

“I have to get to Astrid before Drake does,” Sam said.

“I know. I know. This is messed up.”

With his legs free, Sam stood. “Is this another trick? Are they going to follow me to Astrid?”

“No, man. They’ll beat me up if they find out I let you go.” Quinn spread his hands, pleading. “You have to take me with you.”

“How am I supposed to trust you, Quinn?”

“If you leave me here, what do you think Caine is going to do to me?”

Sam had no time for argument. He decided quickly. “You’d better pray Astrid doesn’t get hurt, Quinn. If you’re doing this to sell me out, you better make sure I’m dead, too.”

Quinn licked his lips nervously. “You don’t have to threaten me, brah.”

“Don’t call me brah,” Sam said. “I’m not your brother.”

TWENTY-THREE

128
HOURS
, 22
MINUTES

ASTRID FELT
A
wave of relief followed by a far stronger wave of self-loathing. She had let Drake terrorize her. She had called Little Pete a retard.

Her hands were trembling. She had betrayed her brother. She hated him for being what he was, for being so needy, and she had betrayed him to spare herself. And now she was far more angry at herself than she had ever been at him.

But now she had to think. Quick. What to do?

Drake would catch her again. Surely Caine or that wicked creature Diana would figure out what had happened.

It would take only a few seconds for Drake to run to report to them. A few seconds more for Caine to realize what had happened. If Diana really could read the power in people, she would know it wasn’t Astrid who had teleported them. She would know it was Little Pete.

She and Little Pete had to go. Now. But where?

Somewhere Drake wouldn’t look. Somewhere Sam might look.

If he escaped.

If he was even alive.

Her brain was moving in slow motion, spinning in circles, unable to focus. She kept seeing that terrible, sick face, feeling the sharp sting of his hand, the way the heat of it lingered and joined with the hot blush of shame.

“Think, you idiot,” she berated herself. “Think. It’s all you’re good at.”

They couldn’t go through town. They couldn’t take a car—it was too late to start teaching herself to drive.

Her mind was an out-of-focus camera, turning and swirling and coming back again and again to the moment when the fear took over, when she couldn’t resist anymore, when she betrayed her brother. Over and over a loop in her head played the words “My brother is a retard.”

Clifftop.

The room they had shared there that first night.

Yes. Sam would figure it out. But Quinn had been there, too. He might reach the same conclusion.

Astrid hesitated. No time for hesitation. Drake wouldn’t hesitate. By now, he was already after them. He was already on his way.

She couldn’t face him again.

“Petey, we have to go.” Astrid grabbed his hand and drew him after her. Down the stairs. No time to stop for anything. No time at all.

To the front door. No. Back door was better.

They walked—Little Pete could seldom be induced to run—across the backyard. The natural wood fence was fairly low, but still it was exhausting and time-consuming getting Little Pete to scale it. They ran through the neighbor’s backyard.

“Stay off the streets,” she told herself.

They went as far as they could, backyard to backyard, then dodged into the street when their way was blocked, and then back to yards and alleyways again.

They saw no one. But there was no way to know if they were being watched.

They reached the hill that marked the edge of town and the beginning of the Clifftop grounds. They scrambled up through shrubbery clinging to sand. Astrid pulled Little Pete along, desperate to move quickly, but afraid to do anything to set him off.

Clifftop had not changed. The barrier was still there. The lobby was still clean, still bright, still empty.

Astrid had the electronic key they’d made on that first night. She found the suite, opened the door, and collapsed inside onto the bed.

She lay there, panting, staring up at the blank ceiling. The bed was soft. The air-conditioning hummed.

She could explain away the words Drake had put in her mouth. They were meaningless words. Just words. Little Pete didn’t care.

But she could not explain away the fear. It shamed her.

She put a cold hand to her face, to see if it really was as hot as it was in her imagination.

“Where are we going, Sam?” Quinn asked anxiously. They were moving at an easy lope, not an all-out run, but a jog they could sustain.

Sam was leading them straight through town, straight through the plaza, as if indifferent to pursuit.

“We’re going to find Astrid before Drake does,” Sam said.

“Let’s go check her house.”

“No. The good thing about a genius is, you don’t have to wonder if she’s doing the stupid thing. She’ll know she has to get out of her house.”

“Where would she go?”

Sam thought for a moment. “Power plant.”

“The power plant?”

“Yeah. So we’re going to grab a boat and head up the coast.”

“Okay. But, brah . . . I mean, dude, shouldn’t we be a little more sneaky instead of just running right through town?”

Sam didn’t answer him. Part of the reason he was going in a straight line rather than being sneaky was that he hoped to pick up Edilio at the fire station. The other was that he needed to know whether Quinn would betray him the first chance he got.

And there was a matter of tactics that Sam understood intuitively: Caine had more power, so Sam would need more speed. The longer he let the game go on, the more likely it was that Caine would win.

They reached the fire station. Edilio was sitting in the cab of the fire engine with the engine running. He spotted Sam and Quinn and leaned out of the window. “Good timing, man, I’m going to try it out, take it on a . . .” He fell silent when he saw Sam’s blood-streaked face.

“Edilio. Come on. We have to go.”

“Okay, man, just let me get—”

“No. I mean right now. Drake’s looking for Astrid. He’s going to kill her.”

Edilio jumped down from the fire engine. “Where to?”

“The marina. We’re going to take a boat. I think Astrid will head for the power plant.”

The three of them jogged toward the marina. Sam knew that Orc and Howard were up at the school with Caine. Drake was on his way to Astrid’s house. That would leave a few thugs still roaming loose, but Sam wasn’t too worried about any of them.

They spotted Mallet and a Coates kid lounging on the steps of town hall. Neither challenged them as they ran past.

The marina wasn’t large, just forty slips, about half of them full. There was a drydock, and the rattling, rusty, tin warehouse that had once been a cannery and now housed boat-repair shops. A lot of boats were up out of the water on blocks, looking ungainly and like a stiff breeze might topple them.

No one was there. No one was blocking their path.

“What do we take?” Sam wondered. He had reached his first goal, but he knew nothing about boats. He looked to Edilio and got a shrug.

“Okay. Something that will carry five people. Motorboat. With a full tank of gas. Quinn, take the boats on the right, Edilio, left. I’ll go to the end of the dock and work back. Go.”

They split up and started working their way along, jumping into each likely looking boat, looking for keys, trying to figure out how to check the gas as time ticked away.

In his mind’s eye Sam saw Drake searching Astrid’s house. A gun in his hand. He would be slowed down a little by fear that Astrid and Little Pete would simply teleport again. Drake wouldn’t know that Little Pete was not really in control of his powers, so he would try to be stealthy, he would be patient.

That was good. The more uncertainty Drake had, the slower he’d go.

Suddenly an engine roared to life. Sam jumped back onto the dock from the boat he’d been exploring. He raced back along the dock and found Quinn sitting proudly in a Boston Whaler, an open motorboat.

“She’s gassed up,” Quinn said over the sluggish chugging of the engine.

“Good job, man,” Sam said. He jumped into the boat beside Quinn. “Edilio, cast off.”

Edilio whipped the ropes off the cleats and jumped in. “I gotta warn you, man: I get seasick.”

“Not our biggest problem, huh?” Sam said.

“I started it, but I don’t know how to drive it,” Quinn said.

“Neither do I,” Sam admitted. “But I guess I’m going to learn.”

“Hey. Hey.” It was Orc’s booming voice. “Don’t you pull away.”

Orc, Howard, and Panda were at the end of the dock.

“Mallet,” Sam said. “He saw us. He must have told them.”

The three bullies started running.

Sam looked frantically at the controls. The engine was chugging, the boat, unmoored, was drifting away from the dock, but too slowly. Even Orc could easily jump the gap.

“Throttle,” Edilio said, pointing at a red-tipped lever. “That makes it go.”

“Yeah. Hang on.”

Sam moved the throttle up a notch. The boat surged forward and slammed into a piling. Sam was knocked almost but not quite off his feet. Edilio snatched at the railing and held on tight. Quinn sat down hard in the bow.

The bow scraped past the piling and almost by accident ended up aimed toward open water.

“You might want to take it slow at first,” Edilio said.

“Stop! Stop that boat,” Orc yelled breathlessly, pounding down the dock. “I’ll beat your stupid head in.”

Sam steered—he hoped—in the right direction and chugged slowly away. There was no way Orc could clear the distance now.

“Caine will kill you,” Panda shouted.

“Quinn, you traitor,” Howard yelled.

“Tell them I made you do it,” Sam said.

“What?”

“Do it,” Sam hissed.

Quinn stood up, cupped his hands, and yelled, “He made me do it.”

“Now tell them we’re going to the power plant.”

“Dude.”

“Do it,” Sam insisted. “And point.”

“We’re heading to the power plant,” Quinn yelled. He pointed north.

Sam released the wheel, spun, and landed a hard left hook into Quinn’s face. Quinn sat down hard again.

“What the—”

“Had to make it look good,” Sam said. It was not an apology.

The boat was in the clear now. Sam raised his hand, middle finger extended, high above his head, moved the throttle up another notch, and turned north toward the power plant.

“What’s the game?” Edilio asked, mystified. He stood well back from Sam, just in case Sam decided to punch him next.

“She won’t be at the plant,” Sam said. “She’ll be at Clifftop. We’re just going north as long as Orc is watching us.”

“You lied to me,” Quinn accused. He was playing with his chin, making sure his jaw was still attached.

“Yeah.”

“You didn’t trust me.”

Orc, Howard, and Panda disappeared from view, presumably running back to town to report to Caine. As soon as he was sure they were gone, Sam spun the wheel, pushed the throttle all the way up, and headed south.

Drake lived in an empty house just off the plaza. It was less than a minute’s walk away from town hall. It once had belonged to a guy who lived alone. It was small, just two bedrooms, very neat, very organized, the way Drake liked things.

The guy, the homeowner, Drake forgot his name, had been a gun owner. Three guns in all, a twenty-gauge over-under shotgun, a thirty-ought-six hunting rifle with a scope, and a nine-millimeter Glock semiautomatic pistol.

Drake kept all three guns loaded all the time. They were set out on the dining room table, a display, something to be gazed at lovingly.

Now he hefted the rifle. The stock was as smooth as glass, polished to a high shine. It smelled of steel and oil. He was hesitant about taking the rifle because he’d never fired a long gun before. He had no real idea how to use the scope. But how hard could it be?