Fear

The truck moved again and soon the wheels went from gravel to the smooth pavement of the highway. Sam drove a quarter mile down the highway, spotted a landmark, and parked on the shoulder of the road.

“Cut across here. Right?” Sam asked.

Dekka peered out, nodded. “Yeah, this looks right.”

They climbed out and stretched. It was still half a mile to the shore. Half a mile across a zeke field.

The zekes hadn’t bothered anyone since the humans and the worms had worked out the arrangement of tossing blue bats and other inedible—to humans—animals into the fields to feed the worms. But just in case, Dekka had some baggies of fish entrails and bits and pieces of raccoon and deer tendons and the like in a pack. She emptied one of these out at her feet and instantly the zekes seethed up out of the ground and swarmed over the food. But left the three of them unharmed.

“The stuff we get used to,” Jack said, and shook his head.

Sam said, “Listen, guys, you’ll hear about it soon enough: there’s something hinky going on with the barrier.”

“Kinky?”

“No, hinky. Weird.” Sam told them what he had seen.

“Maybe it’s Sinder’s powers causing it,” Jack suggested.

Sam nodded. “Possible. So tomorrow we’re going to have to explore a bit, see if the same thing is going on anywhere else.”

They had crossed the fields and now had to make it through a strip of weeds and sea grasses that ran along the top of the bluff.

It had been a while since Sam had seen the ocean. Not since they’d gone to the lake. It was black, painted with only the faintest glimmers of starlight. The moon was not out yet. The sound of the ocean had long been muted: there were no real waves in the FAYZ. But even the soft shush … shush … shush of water lapping on gritty sand touched something in Sam’s heart.

They had miscalculated their location by a few hundred yards and had to walk north along the sand in order to find the crushed container. The steel box—a shipping container with MAERSK written down the side—had fallen from a great height when Dekka lost control of it hundreds of feet in the air.

The contents—long, heavily constructed crates—had spilled out onto the sand. One of the crates had popped open. Sam decided to use a bit of battery power and flicked on a flashlight. Tail fins were clearly visible.

He flicked the light off. Paused.

Something not right.

“No one move,” Sam said. He played the light around on the sand. “Someone smoothed the sand.”

“Say what?” Jack asked.

“Look how flat and neat the sand is here. It’s like when they drag the beaches at night and in the morning all the footprints and everything are gone.”

“You’re right,” Dekka said. “Someone’s been here and then covered their tracks.”

No one spoke for a few minutes as each thought through the implications.

“Caine could easily lift these things and move them,” Sam said.

“So why are they still here?” Jack asked. Then he answered his own question. “Maybe they took the other missiles and just left this one. We should check the seals.”

Sam took slow, cautious steps closer. He aimed the light’s beam at bright yellow tape that sealed each crate. The tape had been carefully sliced and then pressed back into place.

“They’re gone,” Sam said flatly. “Caine has them.”

“Then why leave the one?” Jack asked.

Sam took a shallow breath. “Booby trap.”

EIGHT

36 HOURS, 10 MINUTES

“YOU CAN’T LET him get away with this!��� Penny shrieked.

Caine wasn’t having it. “You stupid witch,” he yelled back. “No one told you to let it go that far!”

“He was mine for the day,” Penny hissed. She pressed a rag to her nose, which had started bleeding again.

“He tore his own eyes out. What did you think Quinn would do? What do you think Albert will do now?” He bit savagely at his thumb, a nervous habit.

“I thought you were the king!”

Caine reacted without thinking. He swung a hard backhand at her face. The blow did not connect, but the thought did. Penny flew backward like she’d been hit by a bus. She smacked hard against the wall of the office.

The blow stunned her, and Caine was in her face before she could clear her thoughts.

Turk came bursting in, his gun leveled. “What’s happening?”

“Penny tripped,” Caine said.

Penny’s freckled face was white with fury.

“Don’t,” Caine warned. He tightened an invisible grip around her head and twisted it back at an impossible angle.

Then Caine released her.

Penny panted and glared. But no nightmare seized Caine’s mind. “You’d better hope Lana can fix that boy, Penny.”

“You’re getting soft.” Penny choked out the words.

“Being king isn’t about being a sick creep,” Caine said. “People need someone in charge. People are sheep and they need a big sheepdog telling them what to do and where to go. But it doesn’t work if you start killing the sheep.”

“You’re scared of Albert.” Penny followed it with a mocking laugh.

“I’m scared of no one,” Caine said. “Least of all you, Penny. You live because I let you live. Remember that. The kids out there?” He waved his hand toward the window, vaguely indicating the population of Perdido Beach. “Those kids out there hate you. You don’t have a single friend. Now get out of here. I don’t want to see you back here in my presence until you’re ready to crawl to me and beg my forgiveness.”