“Yeah,” Lance agreed.
“Bring kids over to our side,” Zil said. “It’ll be like, hey, Zil gave us justice and food.”
“It will be the truth,” Turk said.
THIRTY-SIX
01 HOUR, 8 MINUTES
DRAKE CREPT TO the hole in the exterior wall. The rim of the hole was still a little warm to the touch. He kept his face in the shadows, looked left, looked right.
Caine wanted a diversion? Fine, he’d get a diversion.
Drake saw Dekka in a lawn chair, head down, maybe dozing. He saw a tarp covering what could only be bodies. He saw two kids playing thumb war. Their guns were leaned against a car. He did not see Sam or his shadow, Edilio. He didn’t see Brianna.
The sun was dropping out over the water. Night would fall soon. Caine had warned him to do nothing before Jack turned off the reactor.
“You’ll see the lights in the parking lot go out,” Jack had said in his usual know-it-all voice. “And you’ll hear the turbines suddenly slow down.”
Sam had to be out there somewhere, just beyond the narrow slice of parking lot that Drake could see. Had to be. Sam wouldn’t have left Dekka all alone with nothing but a couple of idiot sixth graders.
Drake wanted to be the one to take Sam down. If he took Sam down, then no one would ever be able to argue with his claim to be the boss. When the big dogs fight it out, it’s the winner who rules. Caine had missed his shot at Sam. Drake wouldn’t miss his.
But no matter how long he looked, he saw no evidence of Sam or anyone else worth worrying about.
Just as he was turning away Orc stomped heavily into view. He headed toward the edge of the parking lot, toward some high grass.
Drake laughed silently. The monstrosity had to take a pee.
Okay, so it was Orc and Dekka and a couple kids with rifles. It would be foolish to take any of them lightly. Drake had fought Orc once before and not entirely won the battle. Of course he hadn’t been cradling a machine gun then.
Drake rested his left hand on the rim of the hole. Hot but not too hot. He formed his hand into a bridge, then laid the barrel of the gun on his hand. He squatted to get into position. He laid his cheek against the cool plastic stock, closed his left eye, and lined up the rear and forward sights. He wrapped the tip of his tentacle around the trigger.
He shifted the sights left an inch. Another inch. And now they were lined up on Dekka.
Not yet. Wait until Jack had turned off the reactor. Then wait ten minutes more.
But it had better be soon. The sun was casting long purple shadows and if the parking lights went out, Drake wouldn’t have much ability to aim.
Dekka dozing. Looked like she was drooling.
A short burst. That’s what he would do. Squeeze off a short burst and watch as the little red flowers blossomed all over Dekka’s—
“Ahhh!” Howard yelled.
Drake jerked back. So did Howard.
Howard was right in front of him, right at the hole, peering in like some kind of tourist.
Their eyes met.
Drake yanked the gun to the left and fired. The gun bucked in his hands. But Howard had flattened himself against the wall.
Dekka jerked awake.
Drake cursed and aimed the gun at her.
He squeezed the trigger. But Dekka was ten feet in the air and rising swiftly. The lawn chair twirled upward with her.
Drake aimed. Like shooting at skeet, he thought. Lead the target just a little and—
Belatedly Dekka stretched her hands out toward Drake. A suddenly weightless gun barrel rose too much. The burst tore the air over Dekka’s head and she fell as her own personal gravity returned.
She slammed into the concrete. The chair landed on her. She didn’t move.
Then slowly, slowly, she raised her head.
Drake took his time. He looked at her. Saw that she was looking at him. Saw that she knew he had won. Saw the fear and resignation in her dark eyes.
“Scratch one freak,” Drake whispered, and slowly squeezed the trigger.
“We’ve got to sneak up on him,” Hank said. “Get him before he can do anything.”
Zil was not happy about Hank giving the orders. Not happy at all. “The important thing is to knock him out fast before he can fry one of us. Then we tie him up and use the tinfoil.”
“He’ll bake his own hands,” Turk said with grim contentment. “Like a turkey.”
They made their way on foot, not wanting to be heard driving up. They raced across the highway, like they were being watched. Although they had no idea who might be doing that. It was fun. Like playing soldier when you were a little kid.
There was no sign of Edilio’s soldiers. Or of any of Sam’s posse.
They could smell the deer as soon as they crossed the road. It was amazing, Zil reflected, how well your sense of smell worked when you were really, really hungry.
Zil motioned Hank and Turk and Lisa to stay put, hide behind the garage. He and Lance crept forward, edged around the side of the garage, crouched to peer through the slats of the fence.
Hunter was wielding a big butcher knife. He was trying, very inexpertly, to slice off the deer’s hide. He was making a mess of it. Portions of the animal were cooked almost black. Other parts were bloody. Hunter stopped and hacked out a chunk of meat and stuck it in his greedy mouth.
Zil’s own mouth watered, almost uncontrollably. His stomach hurt.
Zil and Lance crept back to the others.
“Greedy chud is eating it all up,” Zil reported. “I swear, he’s going to eat the whole thing himself.”