Michael Grant - Lies

“The only way to get there is on a boat,” Jason whined. “How can we do that?”

“We’re going to take some boats,” Caine said with far more confidence than he felt.

Bug sneezed. He became almost visible when he sneezed.

“Bug knows about this place,” Caine said. “It’s famous.”

“So why didn’t we hear about it earlier?” Diana asked, mumbling at the floor.

“Because Bug is an idiot and it didn’t occur to him,” Caine snapped. “But the island is there. It’s called San Francisco de Sales. It’s on the map.”

He pulled a torn and crumpled paper from his pocket and unfolded it. It was taken from an atlas in the school’s library. “See?” He held it up and was gratified to see flickers of actual interest.

“We’re going to get boats,” Caine said. “We’re going to get them in Perdido Beach.”

That killed whatever faint enthusiasm there had been. “They got all kinds of freaks and guns and all,” a girl nicknamed Pampers said.

“Yeah, they do,” Caine admitted wearily. “But they’re all going to be too busy to deal with us. And if any of them get in our way, I’ll take care of them. Me or Penny.”

Kids glanced at Penny. She was twelve years old. She’d probably been pretty once. A pretty little Chinese-American girl with a tiny nose and surprised eyebrows. Now she looked like a scarecrow, brittle hair, gums red from malnutrition, with a rash that covered her neck and arms in a lacy pink pattern.

Jason said, “I think you’re nuts. Go through Perdido Beach? Half of us can’t even walk that far, let alone fight. We’re starving, man. Unless you have some food to give us, we’ll fall out before we reach the highway.”

“Listen to me,” Caine said softly. “We’re definitely going to need some food. Soon.”

Diana looked up, dreading what Caine might do next.

“The only food we’re going to get is on that island. We reach it, or we find someone else to eat.”

NINETEEN

15 HOURS, 27 MINUTES

IT WAS WEIRD,Zil thought. Weird how it had come to this. Weird how scared he was, how rattly his insides were, but he couldn’t let on. Because he was in charge. Because they were all looking to him.

The Leader. Capital “T,” capital “L,” when Turk said it.

Turk, a creepy little toady with his bad leg and his rat face.

And Hank. Hank was scary. Probably crazy as a loon. Okay, not probably, definitely. Hank was always the one pushing, provoking, demanding.

The others. Twenty-three of them. Antoine, the fat druggie. Max. Rudy. Lisa. Trent. Others Zil barely knew. The only one Zil really even liked was Lance. Lance was cool. Lance was the good-looking, smart one who made Zil feel like maybe this was all okay, like maybe Zil really did deserve to be The Leader, capital “T,” capital “L.”

Anyway, too late to turn back now. He’d made his deal with Caine. The deal was very simple: there were two people in the FAYZ who Zil had to fear above all others-Sam and Caine. Caine had offered Zil a chance to discredit one and wave good-bye to the other.

The time was now or never.

First things first. Gasoline. And after that it would be too late for second thoughts.

The declaration of total war against the freaks was a minute away.

Twenty-three of them filtered through the dark streets in ones and twos, guns and clubs hidden beneath hoodies and coats. Swaggering, some of them, others creeping along scared like mice. The great fear was that Sam might see them early. Try to stop them before they could start the party.

Zil laughed, not meaning to.

Turk was with him. Neither of them carrying a weapon, nothing that would give Sam an excuse if he stopped them.

“See, that’s a Leader,” Turk said in his greasy way. “You laugh despite everything.”

Zil said nothing. His stomach was in his throat.

So much could go wrong. Brianna. Dekka. Taylor. Edilio. Even Orc. Freaks and freak supporters, traitors. Any one of them could bring this to a sudden halt.

Zil felt as if he was standing at the edge of a cliff.

One step at a time. First, the gas station.

It had to be tonight.

Now.

And the whole town had to burn.

Out of that fire the Human Crew would gather the survivors under Zil’s leadership. Then he’d be the Leader, not just of this little crew of losers, but of everyone.

Brittney did not know where she’d been. Or what she’d done since leaving Brianna’s house. She had flashes, like single frames pulled out of a movie. A flash of a crawl space under a house. Of lying in the dirt again, of feeling it cold on her back. Of spiderwebbed wooden beams above her, a comforting coffin lid.

Other flashes showed rocks at the beach. Sand that made it hard to walk.

She remembered seeing kids. Two, at a distance. They ran away when they saw her. But maybe they weren’t real. Maybe they were just ghosts because Brittney wasn’t totally sure that anyone she saw was real. They looked real on the surface-their eyes and hair and lips were all familiar to her. But at times they seemed to have lights coming out of them in wrong places.

It was hard to know what was real and what was not. All she could know was that Tanner appeared sometimes, just beside her. And he was real.

The voice in her head was real, too, the voice that told her to serve him, to obey, to follow the path of truth and goodness.

Then Brittney remembered feeling that the evil one was close. Very close. She could feel his presence.

Oh, yes: he had been here.

But where had she been? She asked her brother, Tanner. Tanner was looking a bit messy, his wounds all too visible.

“Where am I, Tanner? How did I get here?”

“You rose, an avenging angel,” Tanner said.

“Yes,” Brittney said. “But where was I? Just now? Just before. Where was I?”

There was a noise at the end of the block. Two people walking. Sam and Taylor.

Sam was good. Taylor was good. Neither was allied with the evil one. They didn’t seem to see her. They trailed blurs of ultraviolet light behind them, like a slime trail.

“Did you see him, Tanner?”

“Who?”

“The evil one. Did you see the demon?”

Tanner didn’t answer. He was bleeding from the awful wounds that had killed him.

Brittney let it go. Indeed she’d already forgotten that she’d asked a question.

“I have to find the Prophet,” she said. “I must save her from the evil one.”

“Yes.” Tanner had assumed his other guise, his angelic raiment. He glowed beautifully, like a golden star. “Follow me, sister. We have good works to perform.”

“Praise Jesus,” Brittney said.

Her brother stared at her, and for just a moment it seemed he was smiling. His teeth were bare, his eyes red with an inner fire. “Yes,” Tanner said. “Praise.”

TWENTY

15 HOURS, 12 MINUTES

THE GAS STATIONwas dark. Everything was dark.

Zil looked up at that sky. Stars shone. Amazingly bright and sharp. Black night, brilliant, eye-piercing white stars.

Zil was no poet, but he could understand why people got sort of mesmerized by stars. Lots of great, important people must have looked up at the stars when they were on the edge, getting ready to do the things that would mark them forever as great.

Too bad these weren’t real stars.

Hank appeared, like a ghost. He was with Antoine. Zil saw others in the darkness beside the highway, already gathered. Milling together, scared, nervous, most ready to run like rabbits probably.

“Leader,” Hank said in an intense whisper.

“Hank,” Zil answered, his voice reassuringly calm.

“The Human Crew awaits your orders.”