Title: Choosing His Pieces
Setting: Perdido Beach
Summary: "He would have to choose his pieces. The best that he could find. The Gaiaphage and Nemesis were finally ready to face off." Perdido Beach's big three are sent to battle foes chosen by the Darkness.
Rating/Warning: T - Some not so nice language but not excessively used. Not too much violence in this chapter.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Gone series by Michael Grant. But I have just realized the wonders and joys of online shopping. So do I own that or does the online shopping companies own my joy?
Authors Note: Good Googily Moogily! Is this another chapter or am I hallucinating (P.S. I've also been suffering from Robin Withdrawal. If any of you guys have seen the new show, it's been my guilty pleasure. If any of you guys are as avid fans as I, you know what I mean about RW. That may have been why I am possibly hallucinating). Anyway, Part 2 of 2 for the first chapter is now up and ready. Again, I apologize for OOCness.
"Un-freakin'-believable!" Tyrell sat down heavily in the boat. It tipped suddenly and Paint lost his balance. He wind milled his arms and tried to sit back down. A normal person—even a normally starved person—could stop themselves from falling out of the boat, but Paint had lost all sense of reaction and balance once he started snorting Behr. Paint shrieked and flipped out of the boat. In the ice cold water he began splashing desperately. Whatever he could do to keep himself above water.
"Shit!" Tyrell shouted. He reached for Paint and together the two of them managed to get the half brain-dead drug addict into the now violently rocking boat. "You stupid idiot!" Tyrell screamed at Paint. "You could have gotten both freaking killed!"
Paint felt his blood pulse. He didn't appreciate this tone of voice from little Tyrell. He had been picked on at his last school and Coates. It wasn't as if he needed some hothead screaming bloody murder at him. He was under enough stress as it was with Caine deserting them and all. "Shut up Tyrell!" Paint shouted back in an unnaturally clear voice for him. He guessed his little dip in the icy cold water was enough to shake up his systems.
Tyrell did in fact shut up. He stared at Paint with wide brown eyes. Apart from his shrieks of panic, he had never heard Paint talk in a raised voice.
"I'm hungry, you're hungry. I know." Paint started, his head not aching as it usually did from his inhalants. The paint must've been some cheap knock-off brand...not the real stuff. Paint thought. It must've worn off. "But I know that if we fight, I'm gunna eat you. I don't want to, but I will if I want to survive."
Tyrell gulped. He was rather a small kid for his age and Paint wasn't exactly a shrimp. His boat mate wasn't Orc-big but he could some damage to the smaller person. "Don't eat me, man," he whispered in a hoarse voice. Horrible thoughts filled his head; nightmares worse than Penny's wildest dream. Would Paint kill him first or eat him as he still screamed? Would he taste good? Tyrell almost considered tasting himself. How important was a pinky finger if it got nibbled off? What if it was his finger he was eating…? Could he stop Paint if he tried to lunge? Sure his reaction was slow a few hours ago but\ Tyrell doubted that was the case now. Tyrell noticed that Paint's normally dull blue eyes looked sharp for the first time he'd known the snuffie. Get a hold of yourself, Tyrell. The guy is just putting up a desperate act. He still has barely enough brain cells to rub together.
Paint rolled his eyes. "Dude, I'm not going to eat you, yet. But I swear if you yell at me again, your butt is mine."
"Erm, yes sir." Tyrell answered, feeling a weird combination of horror and relief. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
Paint nodded. "Good." He ran a red tipped hand through his greasy blonde hair and learned against the side of the boat. His head ached from hunger but it felt clearer than its usual chemical haze. He could almost stop the constant ringing. After a few more minutes of concentration, the pain was completely gone. Not bad, thought Paint.
The two of them floated in a still silence for a few hours. Paint slept some and watched the sun some. Tyrell kept a lookout, one eye on the wide sea and FAYZ wall and another stuck to the island. It was only a few hundred feet away. Wasn't he a good swimmer? Maybe back when he had strength. He figured he'd get about a tenth of the way and sink like Jaz did. Tyrell groaned and rolled onto his back. His stomach hurt less that way. He closed his eyes, meaning to only rest for a moment but was shook away by Paint.
"Dude…look!" Paint pointed to the beach. He sighed and leaned back against the side of the boat, not really caring anymore, but Tyrell was curious to see what it was. The smaller of the two squinted and leaned carefully over. The coast was closer than it had even been before. They must've caught a drift. He saw a beached yacht crushed against the rocks. There might be food. Tyrell's mouth watered. It was only about a hundred feet away. Could he swim that? Then his eyes caught onto something standing in front of the white yacht. Not something though…someone. Someone who was incredibly proud of himself and reeling them in with his bare hands.
"That traitor!" Tyrell hissed. Still, Caine looked very promising, standing there arms out and what looked like a cocky grin on his face. And what was beside him. Small…red… Tyrell suddenly jumped to his feet, threatening to capsize the boat. "Hey! Over here!" he screamed as loud as he could.
Paint blearily opened his eyes. "Man, I thought you said you'd be quiet. And stop rocking the boat! Don't tip the boat over," he chuckled weakly at his joke.
Tyrell was still waving his arms around like crazy. "Over here! Over here!" He turned to Paint. "It's Caine," he breathed.
That finally woke Paint up. "We don't want him. He sent us drifting. He planned to kill us."
Tyrell was about to explain about Soren having food when the boat lurched again.
"Dude…" Paint warned his first mate.
"It's not me!" answered Tyrell, who looked wide eyed at Caine. Was he getting closer? "It's him!" he shouted, pointing accusingly at the freak.
"He's gotten stronger." Paint remarked, light eyes growing shaded. "Maybe too strong. When we land, jump him. Drown him or strangle him—I don't care which. He'll kill us if we don't."
Tyrell swallowed nervously. Caine or Paint. At this moment he wished he was that Bug kid who could just easily disappear.
Paint was watching Caine with narrowed eyes. The freak didn't seem like he was under much stress but his corner lip was barely twitching. Paint frowned. They must've been only forty feet away for him to notice that. After five agonizingly slow minutes, the boat scrapped across the boat of the sand bank. Paint jumped out, ready to fight, clown lips twisted in a snarl.
"Missed me?" was all Caine said as he tossed Paint a bag of chips and Tyrell the granola bar. Both boys squealed and tore into their treats like pigs—all fight forgotten.
Caine watched them with hidden disgust. Did he look that way when he ate the apples and the Cheerios? Gagging himself because he was so eager to get the food down? He watched them continue to wolf down the food. It brought back of awful memories of when the kids at Coates didn't have food. He tried to drown out the flashback he had when dragging the boat back. Panda's limp body, being hauled—first choppy and slow, then graceful as the instant food source became closer—up the hill. Carrying the food for the Gaiaphage to the abandoned mine. Why was it always him who always had to carry things? Oh, right. 'Cause I'm the telepath. Caine rubbed at his forehead and tossed the two of them each an apple which also quickly disappeared. Paint sat back and wiped at the still red smear on his face while Tyrell stretched out on his back. His shrunken stomach was bloated and felt like it was about to pop. It hurt more to lie on his stomach. But still, it was a nice feeling to be full. At least he had something in it this time.
"So, I hoped you two didn't mind your free cruise too much." Caine said nonchalantly, picking at his nails.
Feeling his confidence grow, Tyrell answered. "No, we had a nice bonding session. No doubt it was boring compared to your feast. Why'd you come back for us?" He demanded sarcastically.
Caine sighed. It'd be so easy to slam the both of them against the cliff side until they were pulp. But his past flashes and food had mellowed his senses and mood. "Actually I had a miserable time." Caine told them. "I was lied to, drugged, and almost murdered by a heartless witch."
Tyrell whistled. Something told him that it wasn't Penny Caine was talking about. "Yeah, so why did you come back for us?"
Caine looked at them with a dark expression. The same expression that set the little red flag off for Sanjit and Choo. "I don't want you. I want the boat. I want to get off this cursed island!"
Paint frowned. "I don't know how you can since we have no gasoline." He said in his drugged out voice. Maybe he could get Caine to underestimate him. With his head so clear, he felt like he could outsmart a hundred Caines. He felt as if he had never sniffed paint before in his life. He felt all cleaned out. It was…odd but not entirely unpleasant.
"Can't, y'know, you just throw yourself through the water?" Tyrell asked what he thought was an adequate question.
A cynical expression flashed upon the dark boy's face. "I don't want to use up all my strength," he told them.
"Then how we gunna get the gasoline?"
Caine smiled ruefully. "I've been experimenting lately." He reached up and twirled his fingers. "Loads of gasoline is still in that ship there." He pointed to the hull with his other hand.
"You're not going to make us climb that, are you?" asked Tyrell, feeling suddenly nauseous.
"No!" snapped Caine. "Watch!" Caine's fingers began to do a dance in the air. As if charmed by a snake soother, a thin odorous stream of gasoline trailed in the air. Caine was pulling the gasoline out of the yacht's own unused tank.
"Whoa," said Tyrell. As much as Paint loathed admitting it, Caine really did know his stuff.
Concentration was written plainly across Caine's face. He wanted to stop and quit. He wanted to collapse and eat that leftover apple he hid in his pocket. But unless he ever wanted to leave this cursed island alive, he'd need the gas. My powers are growing like crazy! He allowed that single bit of pride in his mind. I must be a five or six bar now. If only Diana could read me. He paused and the gasoline wobbled slightly in the air. Oh, Diana… He almost lost it altogether but got back his concentration just as quick as he had let it slipped. On such childish things too,he chastised himself. He was shocked to see most of the gasoline out and spinning above his head. His minions were speechless, watching Caine work and had not dared to disturb him. They were smart enough on that count—even brain-dead Paint. I might keep them around a bit longer.
Now came the easy part. With the reverse of what he just did, Caine slowly fed the smaller boat's engine with the siphoned gasoline. It was full to the brim and Caine still had a few gallons floating above his head. He closed his eyes and flung up the unused hand. Instantly the inside of the yacht exploded open, revealing a stocked kitchen pantry. Caine's men were drooling at the thought of more real food.
"First find me a container for the extra gas. Then you can grab whatever your heart desires." Caine told them.
He got his pitcher in less than five minutes.
The boat ride back was anything but adventurous. No one talked the entire time. Caine was busy sitting at the bow of the small craft and chewing on his thumbnail. Paint was lounged in the middle of the boat and flexed his recently 'Buglified' hand. He stuck a particularly salty nail in his mouth and crunched. It had seemed like forever since he had had a Bugle. He could barely believe how it felt on his tongue. Tyrell kept the tiller while holding a box of Raisinets in the other hand and a bag of chocolate chips in his lap. Soon they reached the marina of Perdido Beach. Paint was wary to land here. He thought about informing Caine but stopped. Their leader didn't seem too concerned. Caine looked up and blinked as the boat bumped against the wooden dock. He stood up slowly, an apple clutched tightly in his hand. Paint wasn't sure what was up about the apple. All he knew was he had his Bugles and Caine had his apples. Caine cleared his throat.
"I am resigning myself as the Coates leader." Paint looked up. "This past expenditure has been very exhausting for me. I will not be the leader anymore."
Yeah, big deal. There's what, seven Coates kids left? And most of them are townies now.Paint thought, surpressing the need to roll his eyes. But regardless, Caine had been better to him than he expected. He was still half-convinced that he was dreaming or hallucinating. The realCaine would have smashed them into fish paste back at the island.
"Paint, you and Tyrell are the new leaders. Good luck." Caine nodded then stood up. He stepped off the boat and walked away. Paint watched him leave, shaking his head. How can he have so much damn suave and Tyrell over here can't even cover his mouth? He sighed and turned to Tyrell. Tyrell was fast asleep. He hadn't slept right in hours and a heavy stomach was calling him home. It's a miracle we made it to the dock,Paint thought. He got up, stretched his legs and followed where Caine had left—right towards Perdido Beach Plaza.
"What do you want to talk about?" asked Sam again for probably the fifth time. Caine ignored him and kept walking. While his brother's back was turned, he practiced flashing on and off with his hands. It wasn't hard now. It was almost as if he could just turn it on like a flashlight. He didn't need to concentrate anymore. Even his aim was miraculously improving. He could shoot small flat bullets or long sweeps of continuous laser. Sam used to be convinced he had always been able to do it but with Caine suddenly growing in powers, he wasn't sure anymore. Was it possible that the two of them were growing stronger together?
Sam almost smacked right into his brother. Caine stopped suddenly and Little Pete drifted slowly to the ground. "Now we talk," Caine told Sam, turning towards him. The last time he'd been this close to his brother was when they faced off against the Gaiaphage. Back then he had been thin and sickly looking, dark eyes shadowed and hair stringy. But almost everyone had looked like that. Then over four months had passed. There was food in the town, a reason for people to smile. Caine still looked like a skeleton. He guessed that at Coates Academy, there was no food. He remembered trying to just be able to ration out food, how difficult it had been. He shuddered to think what Caine had to do to stay alive. Sam's frown deepened. He was trying to fight off a wave of compassion for his younger brother. Despite trying to kill him several times, Caine had helped him defeat the Darkness and took out half of the Human Crew. And they were still brothers.
"How hard was it at Coates?" Sam asked. He clamped his mouth shut; he hadn't meant to ask that. Caine's eyes turned almost black. Suddenly Sam didn't feel like the oldest person in the FAYZ. Compared to his twin, Sam felt years younger.
"Hard enough."
Sam nodded. "So, what do you want to talk about?"
Caine turned away from Sam. "How are the kids who you pulled from the water last week or so?"
"Erm, fine?" They had pulled the wailing Coates kids out, gave them each ten pounds of food and sent them back to the Academy. Saving them alone almost cost Sam his head. He was eternally grateful but shocked when the council turned a blind eye and allowed him to. All the citizens of Perdido Beach knew was some mutant bear had broken in and had eaten fifty pounds of food. A few days later, all five came back begging to be let into Sam's town. He couldn't refuse and sent them out to the fields.
Caine nodded this time. "At least one good thing came of it then. I suppose it wasn't a total loss."
"What? Sanjit told the council that you guys made it to the island. You stole one of our boats, by the way, and destroyed the other. That's about a third of our fleet and we kinda need those a lot. But are the others not with you? Are they at the island then?"
"Yeah, I'm sure the rest of my school is having a fantastic time at two movie stars' mansion. Livin' la Vida Loca!" Caine snapped sarcastically. Sam waited for Caine to explain. "Diana tried to kill me so I wouldn't hurt Sanjit and his family. My group betrayed me and the other two knuckleheads who came with me would have killed me too had I not fed them. And the boat is back at the marina, right where it was a month ago. Happy?" He glared at his older brother.
Sam frowned. "I'm sorry…?" he said, wondering if this was the right thing to say. He always had assumed that Caine had been able to pull off the leadership thing easily. Sam knew firsthand how hard it could possibly be. He thought back to what Caine had said about Diana. Sanjit had told them that a girl named Diana had saved them. He just wasn't sure what the girl used as her method of restraint. Apparently attempting to kill her true love was the way she was able to get extra time. Sam felt a small iota of pity for Caine. He'd feel pretty messed up too if Astrid tried to off him. And what was up with the boat?It seemed like Caine had just given up being the villain and making Sam's life hard. Sam had almost been looking forward to searching the waters with Quinn and the other fishers for the boat to get away from the town. And here was Caine, giving the valuable asset up without a fight. "Are you okay, Caine?"
Caine didn't answer. Sam could see Caine's jaw clench and fists ball up. Then suddenly they all released. His hands dropped weakly to his side. In the perfect fighting stance to catch Sam unaware.
Sam noticed though and lifted his palms up. He did a quick check. Little Pete was sitting criss-cross applesauce style on the sandy ground, not looking at anything in particular. He looked safe enough. Sam glanced around frantically and noted with a frown that there was nothing Caine could use against him. Just sand and an uprooted tree on its side a few yards away. Little lights appeared out of the center of his palms just in case though. "Is that all you wanted Caine? To tell me about your pathetic life?" Sam asked him. "Or do you want something else."
"I want you to do something for me…a favor." Caine turned toward his brother, dark eyes suddenly blank.
"What do you want, Caine?" Sam asked cautiously. The light on his hands grew brighter.
"I want you to kill me, brother."
Bum bum BUM! And yes that final line may seem a bit corny and not Caine-y, but I don't care. If you dothink Caine is a little too suicidal to be rational, more explanations will come in future chapters, so just sit tight! I know this sounds pathetic, but sometimes when I'm sad, I'll sit in a corner and read all my reviews. Yeah... But thanks to all of my reviewers and alerters and favoriters! :]
strawberry-fluff- As one Caine/Diana fan to another, I definitely want some romance between those two tragic characters too. It's just something will, erm, happen...? And it might be kinda hard to continue a direct relationship? Gah! I can't say anymore :) Thanks for the review
Atchair - I suppose we all shall see where this goes. Thank you for your comments and review!
Unlucky Word Shaker - I really enjoy your reviews. They always make my day xD. Lemme just say thank you very much for all of your reviews. Anyway, I'm glad the story sounds realistic. That's always a good sign, right?
sheepobsessed - Thank you! I was hoping this would sound like a PLAGUE stand-in until it actually comes out. So far it seems to be working.