Gaia raised both hands, laughed, and lifted Sam up and up into the air. Sam fired at her and burned furrows in the concrete.
Suddenly Sam fell.
He did not cry out. He didn’t stop firing. But he hit the concrete with a loud crunch. He cried out in pain, struggled, but did not rise.
Gaia walked calmly toward them, and Caine raised his hands to hit her with everything he had . . . and the inside of his head exploded. Caine fell to his knees, clutched his head, and screamed in unbearable pain.
“Gaaaahhh!”
Like knives. Like a wild beast tearing its way into his skull through his eyes. Like being crushed in some massive vise. It was impossible to believe nothing was touching him.
He shrieked. “Stop it! Stop it!”
But the pain did not stop.
Through a swirling migraine distortion Caine saw Sam pulling his broken body around to face Gaia. Gaia used her telekinetic power to lift the crashed van and drop it just in front of Sam, cutting him off from view, blocking his field of fire.
“Stop it!” Caine begged.
Gaia stood over him, glowing faintly green, feet planted wide, and watched as he writhed in agony, as he bent double, holding his head in his hands, and screamed.
On it went, and his voice was hoarse from screaming. On and on it went as his entire body went into spasm, as he lost control of himself, slavered and drooled and wet himself.
If he could have taken his own life . . .
And still it went on.
Then the pain stopped.
Caine lay on the concrete road. He gasped air through a raw throat. His heart jackhammered in his chest. His entire body was slicked with sweat.
“Father,” Gaia said.
“Don’t hurt me,” Caine whispered. He didn’t have the will to look up at her.
Gaia laughed. “Have you seen Mother? I seem to have lost her.”
“Don’t do it again. Just don’t do it again.”
“I asked a question.” Steel in her voice.
Caine couldn’t recall a question. Words? Had she spoken words? His body still shook. He still clutched his head, as if somehow his hands could shut her out.
“Have. You. Seen. Mother?”
“No. No. Diana . . . I thought she was with you. Did you . . . ?”
“Did I kill her? Is that what you want to know?”
Caine was afraid to nod, afraid that she was toying with him, afraid she was looking for a pretext to hurt him again.
“Not yet,” Gaia said. “Soon. Probably.”
That slight uncertainty gave Caine a glimmer of hope. But still he did not look up, afraid to give any offense.
“I dropped my food,” Gaia said. “Pick it up and carry it for me.”
“Your—aaaaahhhh!”
This time the pain only lasted a second. A reminder. A whip snapped at a difficult horse.
Caine saw the leg. It had been gnawed.
“Take it and walk in front of me. If you even turn around, I’ll hurt you and make it last until your mind is gone. My power grows, Father. You can no longer defy me. No one can. Not even her.”
Caine did not know who she meant by “her.” Did she mean Diana? Gaia glared toward Perdido Beach.
Caine took the leg by the ankle. It was heavy. It smelled like a barbecue grill that needed cleaning. Shaking, he lifted it and headed toward town.
Would Sam be able to kill her as they passed by?
Please let him kill her.
They walked around the van, and there was Sam. His body was twisted at a comical angle. He was propped on one elbow and raised the other to strike. But he couldn’t keep his hand elevated. Something was wrong in the bones of his shoulder, the bones of his back. His face was white.
Gaia calmly lifted Caine and held him suspended ludicrously between herself and Sam. Sam would have to burn through Caine to reach her.
As they drew nearer, Gaia flicked a finger and knocked Sam onto his back. His head hit pavement with a sickening crack.
“Lie there until I’m ready to come back and kill you,” Gaia said. “It won’t be long.”
She put her earbuds back in and walked behind a beaten Caine.
TWENTY
23 HOURS, 8 MINUTES
THE ISLAND, WHERE she looked at a startled Leslie-Ann.
The power plant, where she saw no one.
The forest. Same. No one. But lots of fire. She bounced out of there quickly.
The beach, where she saw a dead fish and some driftwood.
The so-called hospital, where one sick girl was wandering, calling for Dahra.
The lake. Dead bodies bloated in the water. Others like fish washed up onshore.
Taylor paused there.
What. Was. What.
What was she?
She had memories. Like old predigital photographs curled with age. She looked at them and understood them. But they weren’t really hers. They belonged to Taylor. She was Taylor, but she was not that Taylor.
A random spot in the desert. No one.
A wrecked train. No one.
A field of artichokes. Worms seethed from the ground, touched her, and retreated.
What. Am. I?
Taylor saw that someone was following her, but not someone she could quite see.
No one could move like Taylor. But he could.
She bounced to the ruined ghost town by the mine shaft. He bounced with her.
What. Are. You? Invisible bouncer?
She had an idea then. She bounced twelve times instantaneously, spending only a half second in each place.
He was there.
Following her.
What are you? he asked her.
I don’t know, she answered.
Maybe I can help you, the invisible one said. I made you this way. I didn’t mean to. Maybe I can fix you.