“And Sam?” Caine said, raising his voice. “Sam was a brave leader once, but he’s burned out and you all know it. His heart was never in it. Now at last he’s run away. Sam is not what the FAYZ needs. He’s not a king.”
He turned away while that word sank in. He could hear a voice asking, “Did he say a king?” And he distinctly heard a sardonic laugh from Lana.
Caine raised his hands high. “We need a true leader, not someone who has to answer to a town council. Come on, folks, Howard is a member of the council!”
That earned a knowing laugh.
“So Sam’s faithful dog Edilio reports to a known crook like Howard.” He allowed his smile to fade. It was time to finish it. “You need a leader who will actually lead. A leader to save your lives today and give you better lives from now on.”
Caine spotted Turk and Lance waiting, smirking.
Caine had sent Taylor for them. He had told them he could use a couple of tough kids like them. He’d promised them a trip to the island.
“Turk. Lance. Come on up here,” Caine said.
They climbed up the stairs to stand beside him, pale and shaken, but sure they were about to be handed new and important positions.
“These two admitted to me that they shot Albert while robbing him.”
That started the crowd muttering angrily, and even some of the sicker kids looked up bleakly. Albert might not have been popular, but he was necessary.
Lance and Turk exchanged a nervous, uncertain look.
“You’ll be relieved to know that Lana has been able to save Albert’s life,” Caine said. “But what are we to do with two would-be murderers like these?”
Turk was looking even more pale. This wasn’t going the way they had expected. Lance was edging away, getting ready to run.
Barely moving, and with a slight smile, Caine raised a hand and Lance found himself pushing weakly against an invisible barrier.
“Shall we convene a council meeting? Hold a trial? Waste everyone’s time while minute by minute the threat gets nearer and nearer? We know what should be done. Justice! Quick and sure and without a lot of meaningless delay.”
“Hey!” Lance cried. “That’s not what you—”
“He says a lot of things,” Diana muttered.
With a broad, dramatic sweep of his hand Caine sent Lance hurtling through the air. Lance flew like he’d been launched from a catapult. Up into the night sky with every eye following. A thin scream floated down.
There was something comical about it and Caine could not keep from smiling.
The scream changed in pitch as Lance tumbled down and smashed into the ground at the far end of the plaza.
“Justice!” Caine cried. “Not later, right now. Justice and protection and a better life for everyone!”
Turk lost control of himself. “No, no, no, Caine, no, no.”
“But not justice without mercy,” Caine said. “Lance paid the price in his way. Now Turk will pay by serving me. Isn’t that right, Turk?”
He looked at Turk and in a low voice said, “Bow down.”
Turk fell to his knees without any further urging.
“It’s a sign of respect,” Caine said. “Not for me. It’s not about me. It’s about you, all of you. You’re the ones who need a ruler. Isn’t that true? After so much suffering, don’t you need one person to take charge? Well,” Caine said, “that’s what I’m doing. And when you bow down you’re just showing respect. Like Turk here.”
In the mob of kids maybe half a dozen knelt. A few more executed awkward head bobs, unsure of themselves. Most did nothing.
Good enough, Caine thought. For now.
“The creatures are coming,” Caine said in a low voice. “In all the FAYZ, who can defeat these creatures?”
He waited, as if he really was expecting an answer.
“Who can defeat them?” he repeated. “Me. Only me.”
He shook his head as if marveling at something awesome. “It is as if God himself chose me. And if I win, if I save your lives, God’s will shall be very clear.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
1 HOUR, 45 MINUTES
SAM LEAPED INTO the open mouth of the creature.
Head and shoulders made it in. The bug’s throat spasmed, like wet rubber, crushing the air from his lungs.
His eyes were tightly closed, but he could not close his nostrils and nearly vomited from a wave of stench like rotten meat, seaweed, and ammonia.
He grabbed with his hands, trying to get something to grip, had to pull his legs in before the mouthparts sliced, had to right now, right now, quick!
Something sharp against his calves. But the bug was just reacting, choking, not yet trying to chop him apart.
He yanked his legs in. All the way inside the wet, stinking, pulsating throat.
Not fast enough: the mouthparts clipped his right heel. He didn’t notice the pain, too awful, stifling, squashed, skin burning, blackness, no air.
He pushed his hands out and fired.
He couldn’t see the light, his eyes were shut tight. But he could feel the shudder that passed through the bug’s body.
He fired and moved his hands against the slimy insides, firing and firing, feeling his skin burn from whatever ammonia chemical was inside the creature, but then, far worse from the heat of his own killing light.
He had to stop or else he would cook himself.
He could feel the bug moving, like being in a car with square wheels, a violent shaking. The bug raced in mad panic as its insides bled and burned.