She looked back to check on her charges and saw the whole population of Perdido Beach seemingly following her.
Kids were spread all down the road, some running, some wheezing and gasping for breath. At the back of the crowd Zil and a handful of gun-toting thugs.
Farther off, kids who had fled to the beach were being herded back onto the road.
This second group fled from a different terror. From where she stood Mary could too clearly see Drake, driving terrified kids before him. Some were in the water. Others tried to climb over the breakwater and the rocks that separated Perdido’s main beach from the smaller beach beneath Clifftop.
As the Prophetess had said. The tribulation of fire. The demon. And the red sunset in which Mary would lay down her burden.
Mary cried, “Come with me, children, stay with me!”
And they did.
They followed her across the overgrown, formerly manicured grounds of Clifftop. To the cliff. To the very edge of the cliff, with the blank, inscrutable FAYZ wall just to their left, the end of their particular world.
Down below on the beach, Orsay sat cross-legged on the rock that had become her pulpit. Some kids had already reached her and gathered, terrified, around her. Others were scrambling down the cliff to her.
The sun set in a blaze of red.
Orsay sat very still on her rock. She seemed not to be moving a muscle. Her eyes were closed.
Below her stood Jill, the Siren, seeming lost, scared, a wobbly silhouette against the light show in the west.
“Are we going down to the beach, Mother Mary?” a little girl asked.
“I didn’t bring my baving suit,” another said.
It was just minutes away now, Mary knew. Her fifteenth birthday. Her Mother’s Day birthday.
She glanced at her watch.
She should be troubled, she knew, afraid. But for the first time in so very, very long Mary was at peace. The children’s questions didn’t reach her. The concerned, anxious, upturned faces were far away. Everything was finally going to be okay.
The Prophetess did not stir. She sat so calmly, unmoved by the madness around her, indifferent to cries and pleas and demands.
The Prophetess has seen that we will all suffer a time of terrible tribulation. This will come very soon. And then, Mary, then will come the demon and the angel. And in a red sunset we will be delivered.
Orsay’s prophecy, as told to Mary by Nerezza.
Yes, Mary thought. She truly is the Prophetess.
“I can climb down to the beach,” Justin said bravely. “I’m not scared.”
“No need,” Mary said. She ruffled his head affectionately. “We’ll fly down.”
FORTY
16 MINUTES
THE CLIMB DOWN to the yacht, the Fly Boy Too, had been enough to take a year off Sanjit’s life. Twice he’d almost dropped Bowie. Pixie had banged her head and started crying. And Pixie could do some serious howling.
Peace had been peaceful, but fretful. Which was normal enough under the circumstances.
And then had come the part about getting them up onto the yacht. Easier than getting down the cliff, but still not a day at the beach.
Man, wouldn’t a day at the beach be great? Sanjit wondered as he and Virtue shepherded the kids aft toward the helicopter.
A day at the beach. That would be so much better than glancing up at that looming cliff and knowing he was getting ready to fly them all straight into it. Assuming he even got the helicopter up off the helipad.
Most likely he wouldn’t make it far enough to worry about killing everyone on the cliff. More likely he’d get just enough altitude to plunge into the sea.
No point thinking about it. There was no staying here now. Not even if he set aside his worries about Bowie. He’d seen what Caine could do.
He had to get the kids off the island. Away from Caine. Virtue said there was something deep-down evil about Caine. Sanjit had seen Caine’s eyes when he had talked back to him.
Sanjit wondered if Diana was right, that Virtue had some kind of mutant power to judge people. More likely he was just judgmental.
But Virtue had been right talking about evil coming. Caine had been within a heartbeat of smashing Sanjit against a wall. No way a creature like Caine was going to tolerate Pixie and Bowie and Peace, let alone Choo. He wasn’t going to share a dwindling food supply with them.
“Like things will be any better on the mainland,” Sanjit muttered.
“What?” Virtue asked him distractedly. He was busy trying to strap Bowie into the back seat of the helicopter. There were only four seats altogether, the pilot and three passengers. But they were adult-size seats so the two in the back would be room enough for the three youngsters.
Sanjit climbed into the pilot’s seat. The leather was creased and well-worn. In the movie the seat had been fabric. Sanjit remembered that very clearly. It was about all he remembered.
He licked his lips, no longer able to put off the rickety fear that he was about to get them all killed.
“You know how to do this?” Virtue asked him.
“No! No, of course I don’t!” Sanjit yelled. Then, for the benefit of the youngsters he twisted half way around and said, “Totally. Of course I know how to fly a helicopter. Duh!”
Virtue was praying. Eyes closed, head bowed, praying.
“Yeah, that’ll help,” Sanjit said.
Virtue opened one eye and said, “I’m doing what I can.”
“Brother, I wasn’t being a smart ass,” Sanjit said. “I mean I am hoping to God or gods or saints or anything else you got.”