Dekka released her hold on the debris and it slammed down, scarily loud.
“Thanks,” Astrid said.
“There’s a lot of other people trapped in here,” Dekka said, wasting no time in moving off to help others.
Astrid bent down and tried to lift Little Pete. He was limp, just dead weight. She got her arms around his chest and hugged him close like a too-large baby. She hugged him to her and staggered awkwardly from the church, half dragging him, stumbling across rubble.
Lana could heal him, but Lana was gone. All she could think of was to get him to Dahra down in the basement. But what could Dahra do? Was it even possible to reach the so-called hospital, or had the entrance been blocked by falling debris?
For the first time she realized that the front wall of the church was simply gone. She could see night sky and stars. But she could also see a terrible green-tinged lightning.
Her hearing was returning as the ringing subsided. She could make out animal growls and the sharp crack of a whip and too many voices crying.
Suddenly the debris piled around her began to fly.
Astrid dropped to the ground, shielding Little Pete again, still, always protecting Little Pete. Chunks of wall and shards of wood paneling and odd steel-and-wood joints rose like jets taking off from an airport and accelerated crazily, flying in a stream out through the broken church front.
The green lightning flashed and there came a sound of explosions, a roar of explosions and a brighter light still.
The debris stream stopped.
Astrid climbed up again, hauling Little Pete with her.
Someone ran toward her from the street. He stopped, panting, staring, a frightened animal at bay.
“Caine,” Astrid spat.
He did not speak. She could see that he was hurt. In pain. His face was streaked with sweat and dirt. He stared at her like he was seeing a ghost.
A dangerous light dawned in his clouded eyes.
“Perfect,” he whispered.
Astrid felt herself lifted off her feet. She clung desperately to Little Pete, but he slipped from her hands, escaped her clawing fingers, and fell to the floor.
“Come out and play, brother,” Caine shouted. “I have a friend of yours.”
Astrid floated, powerless, helpless, and Caine strode behind her, using her as a shield. Out through the church front, out onto the steps, looking out on a nightmare scene of mad dogs and raging battles.
Sam was there at the bottom of the steps. He was bloodied and bruised, and one arm hung limp.
“Come on, Sam, burn me now,” Caine shrieked. “Come on, brother, show me what you’ve got.”
“Hiding behind a girl, Caine?” Sam asked.
“You think you can taunt me?” Caine said. “All that matters is winning. So save it.”
“I’ll kill you, Caine.”
“No. No you won’t. Not without killing your girlfriend.”
“We’re both going to blink out of here in about a minute, Caine. It’s over for both of us,” Sam said.
“Maybe for you, Sam. Not for me. I know the way. I know the way to stay.” He laughed in wild triumph.
Astrid said, “Sam, you have to do it. Destroy him.”
Diana was mounting the stairs.
“Yeah, Sam, destroy me,” Caine mocked. “You have the power. Just burn a hole right through her and you’ll get me, too.”
Diana said, “Caine, put her down. Be a man, for once.”
“Put her down, Caine,” Sam said. “It’s the end. Fifteen and out. I don’t know what it is, but it may be death, and you don’t want to die with more blood on your hands.”
Caine laughed mirthlessly. “You know nothing about me. You didn’t grow up not knowing who you were. You didn’t have to create yourself out of your own imagination, out of your own will.”
“I grew up with no father at all,” Sam said. “And no explanation. And no truth. Same as you.”
Caine glanced at his watch. “I think time is up for you, Sam. You go first, remember? And here’s what I want you to know before you go: I’m going to survive, Sam. I’m going to be here still. Me and your lovely Astrid and all of the FAYZ. All of it mine.”
Diana said, “Sam, the way you beat the poof is—”
Caine rounded on her, raised his hand, and blasted her in mid-sentence. She flew through the air, somersaulted backward and landed across the street on the grass of the plaza.
The effort had distracted Caine. He dropped Astrid.
Sam extended his hand, palm out.
FORTY-SIX
01 MINUTES
A CLEAR SHOT.
With a thought, he could kill Caine.
But the world around him faded. Astrid, lying in a heap, seemed bleached, colorless, almost translucent. Caine himself, a ghost.
No sound. The screams of children were muted. The battle between Drake and Orc moved in slow motion, the attacks by the coyotes, all of it frame-by-frame, human and beast and monster.
Sam’s body was numb, as if it had died and left only his brain still whirring away inside his skull.
It’s time, a voice said.
He knew that voice and the sound of it was a knife in his guts.
His mother stood before him. She was as beautiful as she had always been to him. Her hair stirred in a breeze he did not feel. Her blue eyes were the only true color.
“Happy birthday,” she said.
“No,” he whispered, though his lips did not move.
“You really are the man now,” she said, and her mouth made a wry smile.