Gone Series: Plague Part 49

He had picked the wrong place for this fight. It was suddenly blindingly clear. The last thing he should do is fight on open ground where they could come at him from every direction like this.

Caine's heart thudded, his jaw clenched until his teeth cracked. He'd a.s.sumed the tales about the creatures were exaggerated. No. No. Not exaggerated.

Caine broke and ran. He raced at right angles to the two approaching forces. He leaped a ditch, landed hard, scrambled up and ran flat out across the service road, and flew past the shocked and confused crowd in the insurance company yelling, "Run, you idiots!"

Two of the creatures were scampering to cut him off. He s.n.a.t.c.hed up a delivery van as he pa.s.sed it and hurled it quickly-so quickly it flew low and almost hit him in the head as it blew past.

The crowd in the insurance company panicked. They poured from the narrow door, jamming one another, cursing and screaming.

A boy slipped, caught himself, but the delay was fatal. A bug speared him with a leg and swept him into gnas.h.i.+ng, slas.h.i.+ng mouthparts.

"Oh, no, no, noooo!" the kid screamed. The sound died suddenly, replaced by a noise like a garbage disposal chewing up chicken bones.

Caine ran down San Pablo with the kids pelting behind him and the swarm was forced to funnel into this more narrow s.p.a.ce.

Things had gone from bad to desperate far faster than Caine could have imagined.

A second kid was caught by what looked like a black frog tongue firing from a bug's mouth. She screamed as the bug reeled her in.

Caine stopped in the middle of the street. Shaking all over. Jaw clenched. He couldn't outrun them and this was as good as any place: middle of the block so he couldn't be attacked from the sides, at least.

The insurance company crowd splintered, kids rus.h.i.+ng in every direction, all of them screaming, some beating helplessly against locked doors and crying to be let in. Others scrambled over fences into backyards.

Caine raised a parked car and hurled it, then another, another, three cars in rapid succession. It was like a pileup on a freeway, cras.h.i.+ng, smas.h.i.+ng, gla.s.s spraying, side mirrors popping off, rims rolling down the sidewalk.

His furious counterattack may have stopped or even killed some of the bugs-he couldn't be sure in the darkness-but the swarm never hesitated. Up and over they rolled, like a wave.

Shaking, he stood his ground and raised trembling hands. If he couldn't smash them maybe he could just hold them back.

The nearest bug slammed into an invisible wall of telekinetic power. Its legs motored madly, tearing gouges in the blacktop, kicking the smashed cars, but unable to advance.

"Yeah, try that!" Caine yelled.

A second, a third, a fourth creature, all pressed against the barrier, all relentlessly scrambling, pus.h.i.+ng, determined. And all the while, Caine stood alone in the middle of the street.

But for how long? he wondered. The bugs didn't seem to be tiring. In fact they were scrabbling over one another in a mad tangle of legs and ma.s.sive silvery carapaces and scythe-mandibles and always the gnas.h.i.+ng mouths and glowing ruby eyes.

He faltered, seeing those eyes, and suddenly the wall of bugs surged a foot closer.

He redoubled his focus. But he was feeling something he'd never felt before when using his power: a physical push back, as if he was holding them back with his muscles as well as his telekinetic ability.

Without thinking, he had set his feet in a strong stance, and he could feel the weight on his calves and thighs, even more on his arms. He wasn't just projecting power as he always had, he was pus.h.i.+ng back, at the limit of his powers, being pressed by thousands of pounds of thrust from dozens and dozens of stabbing legs.

They were just twenty feet away. Piling high against the invisible barrier. With a terrible shock he realized they were climbing over one another in a deliberate effort to get over the top of the invisible wall of energy.

Then, a far worse shock: some of the creatures had come around Golding Street and were rus.h.i.+ng him from behind.

He switched his pose, one hand for the ma.s.s of bugs, one for the onrus.h.i.+ng attack. But it would not do. He couldn't hold them.

"Should have stayed on the island," he told himself. He had gambled and lost.

The two invisible walls were closing in. He was holding back tons of pus.h.i.+ng, questing monsters and he couldn't do it, could not. He just did not have the power. And once he broke, they would be on him before he could blink.

"Hey! Jerkwad!"

He glanced toward the sound. Standing, arms akimbo, atop the flat roof of a two-story apartment building, was Brianna.

"Come to gloat?" he managed.

"See the front door of that house?"

"What?"

"That's where we're going."

"No time!"

"No time," Brianna mocked. "Please. Just go limp."

"Go limp?"

"Yeah: limp. And oh, by the way: it's going to hurt."

He never saw her move but he felt the linebacker impact as she hit him at blazing speed.

Caine went flying. His s.h.i.+rt was ripped from his back. He spun crazily and fell hard onto the lawn. The bug armies crashed together like two waves behind him. Like the Red Sea closing behind Moses.

Caine tried to stand, but already there were hands on his back pus.h.i.+ng him, propelling him forward at insane speed. He hit the doorjamb on his way through. The bugs swarmed toward the door but it had already been slammed, locked, and barricaded with a chair.

Brianna stood in the middle of the room, examining her fingernails with theatrical calm.

"The whole superspeed thing comes in helpful at times," she said.

"I think you broke my back," Caine said. He felt sharp pain in his ribs. But it was very much better than the alternative.

The door exploded inward and a tangle of bug legs appeared.

"I can hold them, but I can't kill them all," Caine shouted.

"Yeah. They're hard to kill. You got a plan?"

Caine bit savagely at his thumb, worrying the cuticle. They were surrounded. The very walls were being battered. The windows were all smashed. They couldn't fit through the door but they would soon make it wide enough.

They stood, Caine and Brianna, in the kitchen, the center of the house, as far as possible from the windows, but now the bugs had their mandibles shoved in through the doors and windows, questing, slicing the air, their ropelike tongues las.h.i.+ng madly.

The entire house was like a drum pounded by dozens of drumsticks.

"You know, I'm kind of disappointed," Brianna said. "Situation like this? Sam would come up with a plan."

Chapter Thirty-Eight.

59 MINUTES.

SAM HAD COME up with a plan.

Three, actually. One involved the very faint hope that Jack would reach Little Pete and do something awful.

The second involved something purely insane. Flying a huge container of missiles through the air, dropping them in just the right place, finding a vehicle with gas and a functioning battery, then figuring out how to fire the missiles in time to save the town.

That was insane.

The third plan involved Dekka. He wasn't even going to tell her about that. Because it wasn't just insane, it was monstrous.

None of the plans had a chance of working. Sam knew that.

Sam's foot was beyond pain. It was agony. Dekka was doing all she could for him by lessening gravity somewhat but he still had to move forward, and he had to move as fast as he could.

"How are you doing, Dekka?" he gasped as he hobble-trotted.

"Stop asking, Sam," she said.

"You have to-," he began.

"What? What do I have to do, Sam? They're eating me from the inside, what do you want me to say?"

"She's telling the truth-"

"Shut your stupid mouth, you freak!" Dekka snapped at Toto.

They were close, Sam could feel it. They had to be. They had to reach the train before the bugs finally burst from Dekka and ate her alive.

He needed her to live a while longer. To the bitter, bitter end, he needed her and she was spending her last minutes running and trying to help him and he was helpless, could do nothing but keep hoping she would stay alive, suffer some more, conquer her fear, all for a stupid, pointless, doomed plan.

"There!" Toto said. "I see the train."

The light was faint, gray, watery, and inadequate. But yes, Sam could see the train.

He gritted his teeth and ran now, full out, every step like a knife plunged into his foot with the pain radiating all the way up his leg.

"I can't even see which container it was, Spidey."

Sam cupped his hands and grew a ball of sickly greenish-tinged light. It swelled until he could see the two faces of his companions. To his horror the light showed a bug had eaten its way through the front of Dekka's blouse. She was trembling.

"Dekka," he said. "You don't have to ... I can ..."

She grabbed his arm with a painfully hard grip. "I'm with you, Sam. I guess I don't get to take the easy way out."

"This is the container with the weapons," Toto called. Then, as an afterthought he added, "That's true."

"Sam," Dekka said. "If I die ..."

"Then we fall," Sam said. "You and me, Dekka. If I have to go, it'll be an honor to be with you."

Sam slammed the container shut and the three of them climbed to the top. The container was not perfectly flat on top, it was ribbed for strength. But the steel ribs were no more than six inches high. They flattened themselves down on their backs, facing up.

"Here we go," Dekka said. She spread her hands flat against the container, palms downward.

The container rose.

Sam lay staring up at the sky, which was no real sky. The stars were paling. The moon had set.

How fast were they rising? The barrier was quite near, just a few dozen yards away from the train. For the first time in his life, he wished he'd paid more attention in geometry. There was no doubt a formula for how long it would be before they sc.r.a.ped against the barrier.

If Astrid were here, she would be able to- Scrreeech!

The door end of the container was sc.r.a.ping and the entire container tilted wildly.

"Hold on!" Sam yelled.

He gripped the ribs even tighter. But he realized with a pleasant surprise that he was weightless against the container. He was holding on to keep from floating up.

Chunk! Chunk! Screeee!

The container banged a couple of times, tilted even more sharply, and yet rose. Rose!

Suddenly Sam's knuckles, chest, and face were against the barrier. It was like grabbing a power line. Pain that obliterated every other thought. It was not his first time touching the barrier, but it was the first time he'd had his face pressed against it.

"Dekka!" Sam cried.

"Doing my best!" she yelled.

The container became more nearly level and Sam could at least loosen his grip on the steel ribs, which allowed him to press his hands down by his side and keep them from being crushed.

The barrier moved away from his face, blessed relief, but all the while the screeching sound of steel being dragged along the barrier continued.