Disclaimer: The brilliant creation known as the Gone series is owned by Michael Grant.
The moment the FAYZ wall dropped, the wind rolled in, as if it could blow away all the death and pain and hunger. It riled up the wildfires to the north and whipped them into a maelstrom of heat and flame. Smoke billowed into the town.
Kids were running, screaming in both horror and delight. The adults on the outside were too stunned to do anything for a moment, and then a wave of their children went to meet them.
Some kept on running.
One girl didn't run.
She watched as others she knew ran, Albert and Dekka and Sanjit, but for a short time, the girl stayed. The smoke stung her eyes and choked her. It reminded her of everything the harsh world of the FAYZ had inflicted on her soul, but just for a short time, the girl stayed.
The last battle was being fought in the town's streets. If she moved forward and squinted, she could make out two figures ahead of her. They didn't notice her watching.
Sam Temple and Drake Merwin.
One was holding out a gun and the other was grinning like a shark, goading. The girl could see the temptation in Sam's fingertips. He wanted to pull that trigger. He wanted Drake's life to end in blood and suffering.
A single, red line drew itself across Drake's throat, and shortly after his whip started desiccating.
"No!" a fierce desperation coloured Drake's voice. The threats started to leak from his throat like the blood, but then his breath faded into a whisper. Then nothing.
The girl could still see the war inside Sam.
His finger hesitated over the trigger. Curiously, she wanted to see if he could do it. Or whether he would stay the so-called hero that the victims of the FAYZ loved and hated with equal measure.
Drake Merwin, the most evil kid within a ten mile radius, fell apart before Sam's eyes.
With a shaking hand, Sam lowered the gun.
And then he picked up Drake's rolling head and lobbed it into a nearby fire.
The girl heard Sam mutter something, as he cast aside the pistol. The last hero of the FAYZ turned to leave. Watching him disappear, the girl knew Sam hadn't seen her. Neither did he see the way Drake's head then rolled from the fire, tongues of flame charring the remnant of his shark's grin.
The girl stepped forward, the wind teasing her dark hair across her face. She went over to the head, the fire's heat crisping her eyelashes. As it had rolled, the head had put out the flames around it. With a vaguely disgusted expression her face, the dark-haired girl picked up the head by its smoking hair, and then the last of Drake's whip. It felt like dry snakeskin in her hand.
A cough escaped her as she left the clouds of smoke. Around her, she could hear urgent shouts, tearful cries. Some were trying to put out the fires and some were relieved to hold their kids once more.
The girl walked away from the heat and the acrid smoke, heading towards the Clifftop Hotel. The fire hadn't reached there, and she had figured that the adults wouldn't be reaching it either, not for a while.
She needed time.
Around the side of the resort, on the very edge of the cliff, the dark-haired girl had found a small, empty space. The only thing that marked it was a boulder and the spindly tree that grew next to it.
Beside the boulder was a pile, a pile that the girl didn't like to look at too closely.
It was Drake.
Brianna, may the brave girl rest in peace, had told her about the hiding places for Drake's body. After calling in a few favours from various kids and borrowing some help from one of Sanjit's siblings, the dark-haired girl had managed to gather all the pieces.
She had believed Drake would die. There was no way someone like him could survive outside the FAYZ. Either Sam would've killed him, or something else.
Lying next to his body parts was a spade.
It was only fair, the girl thought. There was a graveyard in the town plaza, but the plaza was filled with smoke and fire and aside from all that, Drake had been responsible for more than one of those graves. No, the girl thought, it was better that he was buried separately from them all.
But he should be buried. It was only right.
As she dug, the sweat running down her neck and the spade's handle chafing her palms, she envied Edilio's ability to use the backhoe. But she didn't know where that was. She didn't know where Edilio was, but she was pretty sure he wouldn't want to bury Drake Merwin.
At last, under the blazing Californian sunshine, the dark-haired girl dug the last grave in the FAYZ. She knew there were other bodies lying around, but they were all going to be taken and buried properly. Not in the town's plaza.
Using the spade, the girl pushed what was left of Drake into the hole, his whip going in last. Then she began covering it over.
Her hands were sore. Hands that had once held a power. The girl briefly wished that she had Caine's, so that shifting all this dirt would be a whole lot easier.
Caine had died to end the FAYZ. The sacrifice clutched at her heart, but nothing could stop her from being glad that it was all over.
The girl patted down the mound of dirt in front of her. There was no marker, nothing she could use as one nearby. She doubted Drake would care about that. Would he care about being buried? She didn't know.
The truth was, Drake had done some indescribably awful, unforgivable things, and he belonged in hell. But the girl had seen him at his weakest, once. With his right arm sawn off. He was evil and sick and sadistic, but at that time, the reality of it all was made obvious. He was still human. Just barely. He was a boy, and he deserved a grave.
With all the strength left in her arms, the dark-haired girl threw the spade out over the cliff. She watched with a satisfied smirk as it plunged into the glittering ocean.
There were waves in the ocean now, and they dragged the spade under.
The girl looked down at her handiwork and sniffed, rubbing her dry palms together. She doubted anyone else in the FAYZ would have dug a grave for Drake.
But then again, Drake had probably hurt everyone else in the FAYZ. One way or another.
He had never hurt her.
The girl reached down and patted the dog at her heel. He had always been at her side.
"Come on, boy," said Lana. "Let's go find Grandpa Luke."
A/N: I'd like to dedicate this fic to Goneismyfave1. She is, aside from myself of course ;), the most awesome Drake fangirl I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. We talked about finding all of Drake after Brianna chopped him up, and about his sort-of-connection with Lana when she gave him his whip hand, so this idea was inspired by her! Thanks for being such a cool friend.
And thank YOU for reading this little oneshot of mine! I love Drake and just can't stop writing about him, whether he's dead or alive. Please let me know what you think with a review, it'd be most appreciated! Ta muchly. :)