It was a beautiful thing, Albert thought. Tears came to his eyes. It was a truly beautiful thing. He was reinventing money.
THIRTY-TWO
09 HOURS, 3 MINUTES
BUG WAS LEERY now. Sam’s people knew about him. They had since the big battle of Perdido Beach. But now they had begun to take countermeasures. The sudden attack with spray paint had shaken Bug’s self-confidence.
So when Caine drew him aside, careful not to let Drake overhear, and gave him a new assignment, Bug was dubious.
“They’re out there waiting for anyone who comes out,” Bug argued. “Dekka’s out there for sure. Bunch of kids with guns. And probably Sam, hiding somewhere maybe.”
“Keep your voice down,” Caine said. “Listen, Bug, you’re doing this: the easy way or the hard way. Your choice.”
So Bug was doing it. Not liking it, but doing it.
He began by drifting into invisibility. Even when he was visible, kids tended to overlook him. They would forget he was there. Once he’d faded, they seldom seemed to remember him.
He stood in the corner of the control room for a while, out of sight. Making sure no one—by which he meant Drake—was going to miss him.
Things had calmed down a little since it became clear that Sam’s people were not going to rush in, guns and laser hands blazing.
But the room was still tense. Drake and Caine paranoid, waiting for attack from outside, or from each other. Diana sullen, sleepy. Computer Jack obviously in pain from his injuries, popping Advil like crazy, but still pecking away at the keyboard. Drake’s bully boys had found some guy’s handheld game and were taking turns playing it till the batteries failed. Then they’d go off in search of more batteries.
No one missed Bug.
So he slipped out of the room, inches away from Drake, fearing the sudden lash of his whip as he held his breath.
Outside, things were better than he’d expected. Dekka was sitting in the front seat of a car, half dozing, half arguing with Taylor and Howard. Orc was at the far edge of the parking lot idly smashing car windshields with a tire iron. And two, no three, kids with guns, concealed behind cars, around corners, all waiting for trouble. All bored, too.
And in very bad moods. Bug heard fragments of grousing as he passed.
“. . . Sam just takes off and leaves us here and . . .”
“. . . if you’re not some powerful freak, no one gives a . . .”
“ . . . I swear I am going to cut off my own leg and eat it, I’m so hungry . . .”
“ . . . rat doesn’t taste as bad as you’d think. The trouble is, finding a rat . . .”
Bug slipped past them and reached the road. Easy-peasy, as they used to say back in kindergarten.
From there it was a long, long walk. With nothing to eat.
Bug felt like his stomach was trying to kill him. Like it had become this enemy inside him. Like cancer or whatever. It just hurt all the time. He’d found his mouth watering when he heard the kid talking about eating a rat.
Bug would eat a rat. In a heartbeat. Maybe he wouldn’t have even the day before, but now, he hadn’t eaten in a very long time. Maybe the time had come to start eating bugs again. Not as a dare, but simply for a meal.
He wondered how long you could go without food before you died. Well, one way or another, he was going to get some food. He’d managed to slip into Ralph’s before, and it was kind of on the way to Coates.
Had to eat, man. Caine had to understand that.
He’d get to Coates and find the freaky dream girl in plenty of time.
Bug reached into his pocket and pulled out the map Caine had drawn onto a piece of printer paper. It was pretty good, pretty clear. It led from Coates, down around the hills, out into the desert. An “X” marked something Caine had labeled “Ghost Town.” A second “X,” almost on top of the town, was labeled “Mine.”
On the map was a written message to anyone who challenged Bug. It read:
Bug is following my orders. Do what he says. Anyone who tries to stop him deals with me. Caine.
Bug was to gather up the dreamer, Orsay, and, using whatever guys he could round up at Coates, get her to the “X” labeled “Mine.”
“I don’t know if it dreams or not,” Caine had said. “But I think maybe all its thoughts are dreams, kind of. I think maybe Orsay can get inside its head.”
Bug had nodded like he understood, though he didn’t.
“I want to know what it plans for me,” Caine instructed Bug. “You tell her that. If I bring it food, what will it do to me? You tell Orsay that if she can tell me the dreams of the Darkness, the gaiaphage, I will cut her loose. She’ll be free.”
Then Caine had added, “Free from me, anyway.”
It was an important mission. Caine had promised Bug first choice of any food they got in the future. And Bug knew he’d better succeed. People who failed Caine came to bad, bad ends.
It was a very long walk to Ralph’s. The place was still guarded. Bug could see two armed kids on the roof, two by the front door, two by the loading dock in back. And the place was hopping, kids crowding at the door, pushing and yelling.
Many were there to get their daily ration of a couple of cans of horrible food, doled out by bored fourth graders who had already grown cynical.
“Dude, don’t try and play me,” one was saying as he turned a girl away. “You were here two hours ago getting food. You can’t just change clothes and trick me.”
Others were not there to get food but electricity. Ralph’s was on the highway, outside of the town proper. Obviously it still had electricity, because extension cords had been strung through the front door and power strips attached. Kids were lined up charging iPods, rechargeable flashlights, and laptops.