Plague

Even as they released others struck. She could see them flying toward her like striking cobras.

She kicked a bug in the face, kicked hard against a slashing mandible, then boom boom boom, three hard kicks and she was out of there.

She caught her breath on a rise a hundred feet away. Her body was blistered wherever the tongues had touched. But she was alive.

She watched, panting, shaking, as Drake’s tentacle melded seamlessly into his shoulder.

“Come on, Breeze,” Drake taunted. “Come and get me. Here I am!”

Brianna had never been one to ignore a taunt. She had never run from a fight. But she had escaped by inches. By millimeters.

“It’s the end, Breeze,” Drake crowed. “I’m going to kill all of you. Every last one of you!” He danced in a circle, twirling in wild glee. “Run, Breeze! Ruuuuun! Because when I catch you, I’m going to make you suffer!”

Brianna ran.

Leslie-Ann fed her siblings the scrapings from the cans and let them drink the water.

Okay, she told herself: You did all you could.

Except that she hadn’t done all she could. Not yet.

She had never liked Albert much. He was kind of a jerk to her. He never said anything nice like, “Good job, Leslie-Ann.”

But he didn’t deserve to just die like that. Maybe he was still alive.

“I’m just a kid,” she said aloud to no one.

But she knew what she felt, and what she felt was that she hadn’t done right.

She went out into the streets, not knowing exactly who she should locate, or who she should tell, but she knew she had to tell someone.

From where she stood she could see the big, weird cloud more clearly. It looked like it was raining. And just then two kids came past. They were walking in tandem, sharing the load of a heavy plastic tub. It was sloshing water over the sides and they were soaked through.

One of them noticed her and grinned. “It’s raining!”

“No one’s s’posed to go out,” she said.

The kid snorted. “No one’s telling anyone what to do right now, and there’s water. If I was you, I’d get some fast.”

Leslie-Ann ran back inside and located a bucket in the garage. Then she walked as fast as she could toward the rain cloud. If everyone was there, maybe she could find someone to tell about Albert.

As she drew nearer she noticed something that was, in its own way, as weird as the cloud, which was now almost overhead: there was water running in the gutter. Actual water. Just running down the gutter.

She broke into a run and saw a crowd of dancing, cavorting kids ahead of her. Buckets sat under the downpour. Kids stood with their mouths open, or tried to shower, or just shoved and played and splashed.

A very unusual sound for the FAYZ: the high-pitched laughter of children.

Leslie-Ann set down her own bucket and watched, marveling, as a quarter of an inch of water covered the bottom.

When she looked away, she saw an older kid. She’d seen him around. But usually he was with Orc and she was too scared of Orc ever to get near him.

She tugged on Howard’s wet sleeve. He seemed not to be sharing in the general glee. His face was severe and sad.

“What?” he asked wearily.

“I know something.”

“Well, goody for you.”

“It’s about Albert.”

Howard sighed. “I heard. He’s dead. Orc’s gone and Albert’s dead and these idiots are partying like it’s Mardi Gras or something.”

“I think he might not be dead,” Leslie-Ann said.

Howard shook his head, angry at being distracted. He walked away. But then he stopped, turned, and walked back to her. “I know you,” he said. “You clean Albert’s house.”

“Yes. I’m Leslie-Ann.”

“What are you telling me about Albert?”

“I saw his eyes open. And he looked at me.”

Albert dead.

Sam gone, and no telling when he would get back.

Astrid gone with Little Pete and Orc.

Dekka away with Sam and Jack.

And now Edilio, numb with the scale of the disaster, sat exhausted on the steps of the so-called hospital. He didn’t need Dahra’s thermometer to tell him what he already knew: he was hot, flushed, weak.

He coughed. And stared blankly at Brianna, who buzzed and vibrated to a wild halt before him.

“Bugs!” she yelled. “I passed them heading this way. Drake and a bunch more bugs are still back at the mine shaft. I saw them heading west but I think it’s just a fake; he’s probably coming here, too.”

“How do we stop them?” Edilio asked and coughed into his hand.

“We need Sam,” Brianna said.

“We—” He coughed again and fought off a wooziness that made him desperately want to lie down. “I don’t know where he is.”

“I’ll find him,” Brianna vowed.

“You’re all I’ve got left,” Edilio said. “You’re the only freak with any serious powers. I don’t think the Siren would be much help against”—he coughed—“those creatures.”

“She might work on Drake, though,” Brianna said, and laughed as if oblivious to what was going on around her. In fact, as Edilio coughed again, she blinked, frowned, and said, “Are all these kids sick?”

“When the Siren sings, it affects everyone; she’s just a pause button.” Edilio coughed hard. It hurt his chest.

He was sick. Sick in his body and sick in his heart.