“No,” Sam yelled.
Thirty feet.
Panda raised the gun again. His face was a fright mask of fear and indecision.
Sam dropped to the ground, rolled, and came up in a squatting position as Panda fired again.
Sam extended his arm, fingers splayed. The green-white light missed Panda and burned a hole in the brick beside his head.
Panda threw down the gun, turned, and ran.
Ten feet.
“Dekka, get the door.”
Dekka raised her hands high and gravity beneath the door was suspended. The whole wall, including the door frame, lurched suddenly, as if struck by a truck from the other side. The door swung slowly open. Loose dirt and fallen mortar shot straight up toward the sky.
Dekka dropped her hands and the dirt fell back to earth, the bricks slumped and cracked, the door jamb sagged and splintered.
Sam fired into the dark interior through the open door. He and Dekka barreled th
rough and slammed back against opposite walls, panting and ready. Paper signs and once-colorful posters on the walls burned and curled from Sam’s blast.
There was no sound.
Sam glanced at Dekka. She looked as scared as he felt.
They edged along the hallway, nerves taut, eyes searching each doorway.
The office was on the right side, fronted by a reinforced glass wall. Sam crept closer. Peered inside. Nothing. Lights still on from the day of the FAYZ.
Should he move on without checking the office thoroughly? If one of Caine’s people was in there, Sam and Dekka could end up surrounded. Sam made a motion to Dekka: go in.
Dekka shook her head violently.
“Okay,” Sam said. “I got it.”
He crossed the hallway quickly and opened the door himself. Something large flew at him, he ducked instinctively, but he’d been hit, smacked a glancing blow that spun him around.
A boy with dark hair was crouched atop the school secretary’s desk. He held a wooden club, short and thick, in one hand. The boy grinned. Then he leaped again, fast as a jungle cat.
Sam was caught off guard and landed hard, banging his head on the floor. He saw stars.
He rolled over, but the move was sluggish. The boy had jumped away to safety and was gathering himself for another assault.
Suddenly the boy, the papers and mementos on the desk, and the desk itself lifted off the floor, flew straight up, and smashed into the low ceiling.
The boy had just long enough to register surprise and pain before Dekka restored gravity and he dropped like a rock. Sam reached him before he could recover, knelt with one knee on his chest, and grabbed his head with both his hands.
“Twitch and your head’s a cinder,” Sam said.
The boy went limp.
“Good decision,” Sam said. “Dekka, get his club. Find some duct tape.” To the boy he said, “Who are you? And where’s Caine?”
“I’m Frederico. Don’t burn me up.”
“Where’s Caine?”