“The kid we’re here to see,” Diana said. “Although that’s a lot of damage for a three bar.”
“Benno’s lost control up here,” Drake commented. “I told you Benno was a wimp.”
“Come on,” Caine said and stepped out onto gravel, followed by the rest of them. “Go up the stairs, Panda, open the door. Let’s see what’s waiting for us.”
“No way,” Panda said, his voice shaky.
“Coward,” Caine said. He raised his hands, palms out, and suddenly Panda was flying through the air. He slammed into the door and fell in a heap. Panda rose slowly, then he fell down again. “My leg is hurt. I can’t move it.”
At that moment the front door opened, smacking Panda where he lay. Light spilled out from inside and Jack saw half a dozen shapes, shapes like apes walking on all fours, pushing their way out, crying, howling, terrified.
They tumbled down the steps. Each carrying a rough-hewn cement block that they dragged as they ran. But of course Jack knew they weren’t carrying the blocks. Their hands were encased in cement.
Jack had tried not to think about it. He had tried to put it out of his mind, this crude, cruel solution to the problem of disloyal kids with powers. But since discovering his own power he had thought of little else.
They had discovered early on that the supernatural powers seemed to be focused through the hands.
No, Jack corrected himself harshly, they hadn’t discovered it, he had discovered it. He had observed it. And he had told Caine about it. And Caine had ordered Drake to do this horrible thing.
“Remember who owns you,” Diana whispered in Jack’s ear.
“Feed us! Feed us! We need food!” the concrete-blocked victims cried.
It was a chorus of weak, desperate voices, so raw with need that Jack panicked. He couldn’t be here. He couldn’t be with these people. He turned away, but Drake grabbed his shoulder and yanked him forward.
No escape.
The freaks cried for food.
A girl named Taylor, her arms red and raw above the block, face streaked with filth, stinking of her own bodily fluids, collapsed at Jack’s feet. “Jack,” she croaked. “They’re starving us. Benno was feeding us, but he disappeared. We haven’t eaten…. Please, Jack.”
Jack doubled over and threw up in the gravel.
“Rather overdramatic, Jack,” Diana remarked.
Caine was walking up the steps now and Drake rushed to catch up.
Diana half lifted Jack and propelled him forward, past the kids with the cinder-block hands.
Jack saw Caine silhouetted in the doorway, Drake rushing to move in front, good little dog that he was.
There was a boom, like the crack of a supersonic jet going overhead.
Drake fell back against Caine. The gun went flying from his hand. Caine kept his footing, but Drake clutched at his ears, on his knees, moaning.
Caine reached back over his shoulder with one hand, not even looking back. He spread his fingers, bared his palms.
The fallen portion of wall came apart, brick by brick. One by one, as though each brick had sprouted wings, they lifted off and flew.
The bricks hurtled past Caine’s head and through the open door as fast as machine gun bullets.
The door slammed shut. The bricks smashed through. Wood splintered with a sound like a jackhammmer. In seconds the door was a shattered mess.
Caine laughed, taunting whoever was on the other side of the door. “Is that you, Andrew? Is that you, thinking you can fight me?”
Caine advanced, still directing the Gatling gun flow of bricks above his head.
“You’ve got your mojo working, Andrew,” Caine yelled. “But you’re still just second best.”
Caine stepped through the decimated doorway.
Diana, ducking beneath the brick stream, her expression wild with excitement, said, “Come on, Jack. You don’t want to miss the show.”
Inside was the grand hallway that Jack knew well. Three stories high, dominated by a massive chandelier. Twin staircases led to the landing on the second floor.
The bricks had already hammered one of those staircases to splinters. The noise was like a chainsaw chewing on metal.
Andrew, a boy Jack had known as a fairly nice kid, not even really much of a bully until his powers had come, stood shell-shocked not ten feet from Caine. There was a wet stain in the crotch of his pants.
The barrage of bricks stopped as suddenly as it had begun.
Andrew made an abortive move for the second staircase.
“Don’t make me destroy that staircase, too,” Caine warned. “It would be very inconvenient.”
The fight went out of Andrew. He let his hands drop to his sides. He looked like a kid whose mother had just caught him doing something wrong. Guilty. Scared. Looking for a way to bargain.
“Caine. I didn’t know it was you, dude. I thought we were, like, you know, being attacked by Frederico.” His voice shook. He tried to cover the telltale stain with his hands.
“Freddie? What has Frederico got to do with anything?”
“Man, Benno disappeared, right? And someone had to run things, right? Frederico tried to take over, even though Benno was more my friend than his and then—”
“I’ll handle Freddie later,” Caine interrupted. “Who do you think you are, trying to run things, Andrew?”
“What was I supposed to do, Caine?” Andrew wheedled. “Benno poofed. Frederico was all, like, I’m taking over. But me, I was standing up for you, Caine.” The idea had obviously just occurred to Andrew. “That’s all I was doing, I was standing up for you. Frederico was, like, Caine sucks, forget Caine, I’m taking over.”