"Well?"
"N… no."
Crack.
Computer Jack screamed as another lash struck him. His shirt was in tatters, hanging on by some miracle. The fabric was stained a deep red. Blood. My blood.
"What do you mean, no?" Drake Merwin asked. He languidly rested the whip on Jack's shoulder. Jack couldn't help but begin to shudder.
"I… I mean there's still nothing I can see," Jack said. "He sort of just... reaches out and... poof."
"Poof," Drake repeated, drolly. The tentacle tightened itself, and Jack fought back a panic attack. "You know, that answer isn't gonna cut it."
"I… I know," Jack said. Breathe. Breathe.
"You also know what you should do next," Drake continued. The tentacle twitched another inch closer to Jack's throat. A horrific whimper came from his lips. "Give me the right answer."
"Y… yes, Drake," Jack replied. He was crying again. The whip retracted. "I just need some more time."
"Don't push your luck," Drake said.
Jack wanted to scream at this moment. You don't poof for months, he thought, but wouldn't dare say it. Not when he was in a situation he was powerless to escape.
Not quite, a terrible voice whispered in his ear as he looked down at the laptop with a suspicious dent beside the touch pad. You could crush Drake Merwin like a fly if you wanted.
But he knew that wasn't going to happen. I'd rather die than use my strength.
It was weak. Weak and pathetic.
Jack looked out of the window at the bruise-coloured sky. Drake had taken an RV and driven them out to the middle of the desert. Jack's laptop was slowly sapping the power from the vehicle. He knew it wasn't much – you could charge your phone and computer from a car for days – but if he took too much power, then the RV would be rendered immobile.
From somewhere outside, a coyote howled.
If that happened… it wouldn't matter if Jack managed to get away from Drake. I wouldn't make it through the desert.
Another sob broke from his lips. Drake cast him a suspicious glance.
"I'm… I'm fine. I'll be fine," Jack said. He looked back down at the laptop and studied the screen like his life depended on it.
Quinn was still on the rooftop with Taylor when the explosion happened.
The flash, accompanied by the rumble, was enough to make him him scream.
For one terrible dragged-out moment he thought the world had ended.
When Taylor pointed out the massive cloud of smoke and fire spreading out over Perdido Beach, Quinn could only stare with an open mouth.
"Caine's what?"
Diana groaned as she stared down at Bug. The creepy ten-year-old's eyes were wide as he reacted to her news. Even so, the shock didn't seem to stop him from sparing quite a few lecherous glances at her breasts. If he goes any further I'll break his nose.
"Yeah. He and Sam poofed. It was big and dramatic and everybody cried," Diana deadpanned. "Astrid and Albert tasked me with rounding you guys up and bringing you back down to Perdido Beach."
"Why should we?" Bug replied. "I don't want to put up with another leader."
"If you don't then you can't return to Perdido Beach again. There's only so much food at Coates," Diana said. "Look, Bug. You're a creep, but be smart, okay?" She didn't mention that if she failed then she would be exiled as well. Gotta keep some cards up your sleeve.
More kids were beginning to crawl from the woodwork. Diana looked up at the dorm windows and saw faces peering out. Maybe the front entrance wasn't the best place to do this, Diana realised with painful retrospect.
"What about Drake?" one girl asked. She sat on the steps outside the front door. "Where is he?"
"The hell if I know," Diana said. "I'm good so long as he's not near me."
"So he's alive?" a boy called from a window. Fear laced his tone.
"Maybe. That's pretty low on my priority list," Diana called back.
"Jesus," said a girl with red hair who looked like a lankier version of Brianna. Diana looked around and quickly realised she had an audience. Most, if not all of the Coates stragglers were surrounding her. Reflexively she patted the handgun in her pocket. A gun means nothing if your opponent has mutant powers. She had to remain calm.
"I don't see why that matters," Diana said. "Nobody's seen Drake since the night of Sam and Caine's disappearance. Hell, he could have poofed himself for all we know. Could be that he was lying about his birthday and stepped out early." That was a lie. April twelfth, just one minute after midnight. She'd memorised it to get a rise out of him. And after the FAYZ had hit… well, there was no forgetting it now.
It was November twenty-fourth. Drake Merwin would continue to terrorise the FAYZ for another five months at least. If nobody figures out how to beat the poof. She didn't even want to think about her own birthday.
"Maybe," a kid said in response.
"He's not important, anyway," Diana said hastily. She didn't want to think about that psycho for any longer than she had to. "Look. If any of you want to be able to enter Perdido Beach, you've gotta head back with me tomorrow. Albert and Astrid's orders."
"Why should we listen to you, Diana? You were just Caine's slut." Diana didn't even bother trying to find which little asshole said that.
"Because..." She hesitated for just a moment, before remembering what Caine had told her once. Sometimes it's worth exposing some of the truth to get people to do what you want. "Because if nobody comes down, I'm banished, too."
That seemed to resonate throughout the crowd for a moment, until a girl with black hair dyed with red streaks pointed behind Diana with her mouth forming an 'O'. "Look! Something's happening to Perdido Beach!"
Immediately Diana looked away from the sunset-soaked stone walls of Coates and instead looked in the direction of the town and the ocean. From here, Perdido Beach was nothing more than a tiny speck marked by the lights of the town.
Then came a sudden flash of light and a rumble that could be felt even from here.
Diana felt anxiety blossom in the pit of her stomach as the black cloud began to smother the town.
"I guess we're not going back to Perdido Beach, huh?" Bug said. He'd turned invisible. Not that anyone paid any attention to him.
Somehow, in the split second between the explosion and the rush of burning wind, Astrid had managed to clutch Pete tightly to her chest. Later she would wonder if he would have prevented so much damage had she left him in harm's way.
They hit the floor as Mary screamed her brother's name.
Brianna released a slew of words that should never come from a twelve-year-old's mouth.
For a moment, the world seemed to explode with orange-red light. Then came the darkness.
The air was swallowed up in an instant, and all Astrid could do was look at the doors to the town hall. Either that or perish.
Clutching Pete as tightly as she could, Astrid crawled up the steps in bullet time. She could hear everyone's screams as they seemed to drag out over forever.
She breathed in and was met with a rush of smoke.
Astrid coughed so hard she almost threw up. And still everyone was screaming.
In her fear-fuelled delirium, she wondered if Pete had somehow suspended time. At this point, anything's possible.
Her hand gripped the handle of the door as her eyes began to sting and the choking began in earnest. Oh God.
The door moved inward, pulling Astrid and Pete along with it. As soon as she felt the worn carpet beneath her, Astrid rolled to the side and kicked the door shut with as much force as she could muster. She looked out of the glass door and saw the world ending. No.
Her last sight before she passed out was of everyone staring in terror as the wall of fire descended on them. Brianna's fists were clenched as she looked away from the flames.
"JOHN!" Mary howled, followed by a blood curling scream
"Angry," Pete whispered. Astrid's vision gave out and her head slammed against the carpet. "Different game."
Oddly enough, she had one more thought before the blackness swallowed her.
This is the same carpet Sam has in his bedroom.
Crayola crayons and smoke.
These were the only things Lana Arwen Lazar could smell right now as she sat by Edilio's bedside. Her hand rested on his bare shoulder. Patrick lay by her side, grumbling in his sleep.
The injuries Edilio had sustained were testing the limits of her powers for certain. She'd barely managed to keep him together long enough for Dahra to remove the bullets lodged all over his body. He'd lost so much blood. It had only been this morning that the colour had started to return to his skin.
But then the infection had set in. It didn't help that all they had to work with was a cramped basement filled to the brim with sick and injured kids. This place would be a doctor's worse nightmare.
Her body ached for another cup of coffee. In the past two days she had almost single-handedly emptied the building of its coffee supply. They had Cookie raiding the town hall offices for any caffeinated beverages he could find. The pot was currently brewing some vile mixture of black coffee and mint tea.
It tasted like ass, but it kept her going.
Before the FAYZ, Lana spent her evenings looking up weird stuff on the internet. One thing that had stuck with her particular was what happened to someone if they didn't sleep. Delusions, hallucinations, madness. Sometimes death.
Death was something she could avoid, but Lana's power could heal everything but the mind. She'd learned that lesson yesterday when trying to help a kid from Coates whose bipolar mediation had run out.
In the end, Dahra had just told the boy's friends to keep a close eye on him as he rode out the manic episode and sent them on their way with a packet of Prozac. It was hardly a priority when kids were bleeding out in front of her.
Lana found it a welcome distraction. Especially considering that since Sam and Caine's disappearance, the Darkness had been screaming in her mind. Not even tempting words, no. Nothing like that. Just the anguished shrieks of a creature in pain. Either that, or fury.
But she didn't even want to consider the possibility that the Darkness was pissed. Whatever was down in that mineshaft was not something Lana ever wanted to see. Not after the coyotes. Not after Drake's arm.
Not again.
She paused and sniffed the air. There was a definite smell of smoke that was growing stronger with every second. Patrick whined as he leaped to his feet, alert and ready to defend her from any potential threats.
"You smell that too?" asked a boy that sat on the other side of Edlio's bed, armed with a sketchbook, pencils, and crayons that reeked of preschool. His name was Roger, and he'd volunteered to help out as best he could following the showdown the other day. At present, he could barely do more than hand out painkillers, but he had a talent for drawing, and sometimes a pretty picture was all it took to stop a pile of wailing littles.
"Yeah. Smoke," Lana replied. The hand pressed against Edilio began to ache; swiftly, she switched over, wiping the blood on her jeans. "I swear to God that if some kids are playing with fire I will make them wait before healing them."
"So long as that doesn't mean I have to waste precious supplies to keep them happy," Roger retorted.
"Don't worry, I wouldn't—"
—A blinding pain in her skull.
Without thinking, Lana clasped both hands to her head. Edilio let out a shallow gasp, but she was deaf to this. She was aware of nothing but pain and darkness and a fear greater than anything she had felt before. The kind of fear that made you lose your grip on your bladder.
The Darkness was screaming with such a ferocity that it felt like Lana's brain was melting in her head.
Lana was no longer on the chair. She was moving across the infirmary and was screaming too. Some far-flung corner of her mind was aware enough of this until the thoughts turned to fire.
And then, something happened that made Lana fall to her knees and her blood run cold.
The Darkness spoke to her. Just four words. But these words filled her with such terror that every nerve of her wanted to rush at the FAYZ wall and scream and attack her way out until she was as far away from here as possible.
The Game must adjust.
"You don't have enough water energy for that."
"Fine. I'll go with Eevee instead."
Ellen sat at the table in the fire station, lazily watching as a few of the other kids played with Pokémon cards. There were only four of them here tonight; a skeleton staff by any other name.
But with half of Perdido Beach holed up in the infirmary, it was unlikely that there were going to be any major emergencies. After the past couple days, this calm is more than needed.
"Hey, Ellen. Wanna join?" asked a boy with wild brown hair and a voice that was all over the place. Gotta love puberty.
"Maybe in a moment," she replied. She stood up, stretching to remove the stiffness in her joints. "I'll just check the station again."
"Why? Paranoid that the truck will be gone?" a girl with dark skin and tightly-woven cornrows said. It was meant to be flippant, but it rubbed Ellen the wrong way.
"Drake Merwin is still out there," she pointed out. "And if he took the truck, it wouldn't be hard for him to burn everything down."
"Oh no. It's the Big Bad Whip Hand," the final member of the party, a short boy with thick-rimmed glasses and neat black hair, said. An obnoxious giggle broke from his lips.
"You're all jerks," Ellen replied as she walked over to the door. "I'll be back in a couple minutes."
The hallway was dark, but Ellen didn't bother trying to find the light switch. Why waste electricity? The power plant is great, but it can't last forever. She didn't like to admit it, but when she was alone, these kinds of details kept her awake at night. The FAYZ isn't sustainable.
Growing up, Ellen and her family had made no secret of their Native American heritage. Even if they didn't show it, it was always something that had been there. In fact, Ellen herself hadn't paid much attention to it, but more and more often she found her mind drifting to the numerous ways that her ancestors had managed to survive and thrive off the land. We may have to end civilisation if we're to live.
That thought frightened her deeply. They weren't survivalists with an innate knowledge of self-preservation. They were a town of three hundred kids. Even with Lana, so many more will die.
It was too early in the evening to be thinking like this.
Ellen opened the door at the end of the hallway and scurried down the stairs. Her hand clutched the railing tightly; she didn't dare let go, especially as the shadows grew larger and the darkness more oppressive. For a split-second Ellen regretted not having anything to defend herself with.
That soon passed once she reached the bottom of the stairs and entered the garage. The fire truck was still there, still in a good condition. The windows at the top of the wall sent beams of fresh moonlight spilling over the red coating, giving it a quality that wouldn't look out of place in an old movie. Kinda pretty.
Then something covered the window and Ellen was thrown into complete darkness.
"What the hell?" she whispered, spinning around to look up at the window. It was still in one piece, but it seemed as if there was something black covering it. Cloud? She doubted it.
Just as Ellen made a tentative step back towards the stairs, there was an earth-shattering rumble, accompanied by a flash of light and an explosion that lit the entire garage up for a few seconds.
Ellen hit the floor without even thinking, slamming her elbows against the ground. She swore as the pain rushed up her arm, but after a few moments quickly realised that she was still in one piece. That was what mattered.
Until she noticed the red glow coming from up the stairs and the choking stench of smoke.
Fear gripped her like an iron fist and threatened to choke the life out of her. Every instinct screamed at her to run for her life, but Ellen instead stumbled towards the stairs. The others. They're still up there.
Plagued with confusion and a terrible, terrible feeling, Ellen began to climb. The smoke grew thicker with every step, and before she had even made it halfway up, she had been forced to cover her nose and mouth with her sweater. Fire. There's fire.
If she could think without the fear and dread, Ellen would have probably let out a sardonic laugh at the irony of the fire station burning down. But not when all she could picture was the image of three kids sitting at a table playing Pokémon.
The smoke must have been getting to her head or something, because the next thing Ellen knew, she was opening the door to the break room. As she peered her head through the doorway, time stopped and all she could do was scream.
The entire wall had been destroyed by what looked like a fireball, sending tongues of flame dancing along the rubble and remains up to the roof. The smoke was too thick to see beyond that; all Ellen was aware of was a thick, suffocating blackness and flashes of red and orange that turned her heart to ice.
She had one more clear, coherent thought before everything she held on to turned to hell. Well. Now I know how Sam Temple felt.
There was a gap in the smoke for only a few seconds. But for Ellen, it was enough for her eyes to focus on where the desk had been. Now, there was only a smouldering pile of timber underneath a ball of flame. And beside that—
—Oh.
Oh Jesus.
No.
Ellen threw up. The microwaved hamburger hit the smoking floor and splashed up her clothes.
She kept her eyes shut. But it was too late. The image of raw, blackened flesh was ingrained in her mind.
All of them. Dead. My fire crew. I was in charge.
A few feet in front of her, a rush of flame erupted, consuming a tiny body with a pair of thick-rimmed glasses sitting on a face that looked like uncooked meat. Not that Ellen could see it.
Above, a chunk of the ceiling crashed down, decimating where the kitchen had stood. The burning air finally forced Ellen to open her eyes.
Smoke was pouring into her throat, threatening to make her cough out her held breath.
She—
—She had to make a decision.
Stay or go. Live or die.
Filled with a sense of panic like no other, Ellen stumbled out of the room and hurried down the hallway. She took the steps three at a time, tripping every other time she moved.
Her heart was punching against her chest so hard she feared it would burst. There was no point in telling herself to remain calm.
Once she was on the ground. Ellen dared to look back. The flames were snaking along the hallway, poised to leap down the stairs and burn the fire station to the ground.
She frantically looked around. The garage door was wide open, providing a view of Sheridan Avenue in the twilight.
But equally, hung up on the wall was a set of keys.
The fire truck was facing the open garage door. There was gas in the tank.
Ellen could at least save something. Or die trying.
She didn't have time to deliberate over this choice. Her hands found the keys and ripped them off the wall, and she was running up to the red vehicle.
Ellen's hands trembled as she fit the keys in the door and turned.
Nothing. She'd turned it the wrong way. Damn it!
Behind her, the fire was halfway down the stairs. A hysterical sound that was somewhere between a scream and a sob came from Ellen's lips. Come on come on come on come on!
There was a click. Ellen yanked at the handle with the strength of a professional wrestler. It swung open with a loud creak that fanned away the increasing heat of the flames.
A spluttered cough ripped its way from Ellen's throat as she climbed into the truck, keys in hand. She slammed the door shut and shoved the keys into the ignition.
This time she got it right on the first time. The engine rumbled to life as thick black clouds pressed against the window. She was hyperventilating now.
Panicking, Ellen gripped the steering wheel and forced her foot on the pedal.
The fire truck crawled forwards, picking up momentum. But not fast enough.
The wind shield was nearly black by now. Ellen reached over to the dashboard and hit as many buttons as possible.
The siren began blaring with enough volume to block out Ellen's terrified noises.
At the same time, the wipers began to move at their maximum speed, clearing just enough that Ellen could see.
The fire was a few feet from the fire truck now.
Ellen floored it.
The siren wailing like a banshee, the fire truck sped down the street.
Ellen screamed in sync until she saw the columns of flame and smoke coming from the town plaza. Perdido Beach is burning.
She stopped the truck in the middle of the road, opened the window, and breathed in the (relatively) fresh air.
It felt like she was having a never-ending panic attack. The tension and terror was causing a headache to set in.
I could stay right here, she thought. I could stay and be safe.
A blood-curling shriek filled the air. By the plaza, a wall of flame erupted, tall enough that it dwarfed even the church tower.
No, Ellen decided. I have to help.