Closer.
Close enough.
Dekka stopped. Edilio, with exquisite slowness, turned to point his gun at the two coyotes that had appeared almost by magic just above the mine shaft.
Dekka tucked her pistol into the back of her belt. She had some vague, distant memory of someone telling her, “Better if it goes off to shoot a hole in your butt than in your . . .”
A million years ago. A million miles away. Another planet. Another life.
Dekka raised her hands, spread them wide and . . .
Movement from within the cave.
Slow, steady. A hint of pale flesh in the shadow.
Lana moved like a sleepwalker. She came to a stop just within the cave, under the overhang.
She looked right at Dekka.
“Don’t,” Lana said in a voice not her own.
When Sam came to some time later, Brianna was kneeling beside him, a first-aid kit open on the floor. She was spraying cold liquid bandage onto his worst whip marks.
“Drake,” Sam managed to gasp.
“I’ll take care of him later,” Brianna said. “You first.”
The alarm had stopped blaring.
He tried to sit up, but she pushed him back down. “Dude, you are hurt bad.”
“Yeah,” Sam admitted. “Hurts. Like fire.”
“There’s this,” she said doubtfully. She held up an ocher-colored blister pack. The label read “Morphine Sulfate Injection USP. 10 mg.”
Sam squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth. The pain made him want to scream. It was beyond anything he could endure. Like his flesh was burning, like someone was pressing a red-hot iron against his skin.
“I don’t know,” Sam said through his teeth.
“We need Lana,” Brianna said.
“Yeah,” Sam said. “Too bad I sent Dekka to kill her.”
He lay there feeling waves of pain so great, they made him want to throw up. The morphine would dull the pain. But it would also probably take him out of the battle. No one else could stop Caine. No one else . . .
He had to function . . . had to . . .
He cried out in agony, unable to hold it in, unable to stop himself.
Brianna tore open the blister pack and jabbed the syringe into his leg.
A wave of relief swept through him. But with it, weariness, weirdness, and a dreamy indifference. He was sinking down and down and down into a dark place. Letting himself fall away, leaving Brianna staring down at him as he fell toward the center of the earth.
A resource, some wisp of his remaining consciousness was thinking.
A weapon.
“Breeze,” Sam managed to say.
“What, Sam?”
“Breeze . . .”
“I’m here, Sam.”
It would be ready. The creature knew their powers. Knew their limits. Knew everything Lana knew. Probably everything Caine and Drake knew.
But not everything there was to know.
With a sudden, spasmodic lurch, Sam managed to grab her arm and squeeze it tight. “Breeze. Breeze . . . get Duck.”
“I’m not leaving you, boss,” Brianna argued.
“Breeze. The radiation. You were exposed.”
He couldn’t see the expression on her face. But he heard the sharp intake of breath.
“Am I going to die?” Brianna asked. She made an unconvincing laugh. “No way.”
She was so far away now. Miles away from Sam. In another world. But he still had to reach her.
“Oh, God,” Brianna cried.
“Breeze. Get Duck. The mine. Lana.”
He let go then, and fell into the pit and drifted from reality.
Brianna hit town like Paul Revere riding a rocket. She zoomed down streets, banging on doors, yelling, “Duck! Duck, get your butt out here!”
No Duck. Plenty of kids heard her yelling and ducked. Which on another day she might have found funny.
She ran as fast as she could. Not fast enough to outrun her own fear. Radiation. She had touched the reactor pool.
Was she already doomed?
She ran into Astrid with Brother John and her own little weird brother pulling a red wagon toward town hall. At first she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Mary Terrafino was in the wagon, curled up and covered with a blanket that dragged on the pavement.
Brianna hit the brakes and skidded to a stop in front of Astrid. Little Pete was chanting something at the top of his lungs. “Nestor! Nestor! Nestor!” Crazy. Like a crazy street person. Brianna didn’t know how Astrid could stand it.
When Little Pete spotted Brianna, he stopped. His eyes glazed over, and he slowly pulled a handheld game from his pocket.
“Brianna! Is Sam okay?” Astrid cried.
“No. Drake tore him up.” She wanted to sound tough, but the sobs came bubbling up and overtook her. “Oh, God, Astrid, he’s hurt so bad.”
Astrid gasped and covered her hand with her mouth. Brianna put her arms around Astrid and sobbed into her hair.
“Is he going to die?” Astrid asked, voice wobbly.
“No, I don’t think so,” Brianna said. She stood back and wiped her tears. “I gave him something for the pain. But he’s messed up, Astrid.”
Astrid grabbed her arm hard, squeezing enough to cause Brianna pain.
“Nestor,” Little Pete said.
“Hey,” Astrid snapped at Brianna. “Get it together.”
It shocked Brianna. She’d never thought of Astrid as weak and girly, really, but she hadn’t thought of her as tough, either. But Astrid’s jaw was clenched, her eyes cold and steely.