Fear (Gone 5)

“Why would I do that?” Sam demanded. He sat forward in his chair and widened his arms and legs, sending the message that he had nothing to hide.

Edilio smiled affectionately. “Because we’ve had four months of peace, my friend. And you’re bored.”

“That’s not—” Sam began, but with a glance at Toto fell silent.

“Still, if the missiles have to be somewhere, better with us,” Edilio said reluctantly.

Sam felt a little embarrassed by how eager he was to grab onto that rationale. Okay: so he was bored. It still made sense to secure those weapons.

“Okay,” Sam said. “We grab them. Dekka, it’ll be on you and Jack to move them. We’ll have Brianna check out the area, make sure no one’s around. They’re just inside Caine’s borders. We’ll need to get them across our line as quick as possible. Get them loaded onto a pickup.”

“Burn gas?” Mohamed asked.

“It’s worth the gas,” Sam said.

Mohamed spread his hands apologetically. “Gas is under Albert’s control.”

“Look, if Albert gives us the gas he’s supporting us,” Sam said. “So how about if this once we just do it? It won’t be more than a couple of gallons. We’ll skim from several different tanks so it won’t show on your books.”

Mohamed took an even longer pause than normal. “You never said that, and I never heard you.”

“That’s not true,” Toto said.

“Yeah,” Dekka said, rolling her eyes, “we know.”

“Okay. Tonight,” Sam said. “Breeze out front; Dekka, Jack, and me in the truck. We park the truck and the three of us head to the beach. Hopefully we’re back by morning.”

“What about me, boss?” Edilio asked.

“Deputy mayor is a heavy burden sometimes, dude.” Sam smiled. He felt a rush from the idea of a daring nighttime mission. Edilio was right: running the lake had been boring after the first frantic month. Sam basically hated handling all the little details and decisions. Most of his day was taken up dealing with stupid fights over nothing—kids fighting over ownership of a toy or some food, people slacking off on work they owed to the town, crazy ideas for getting out of the FAYZ, unhappiness over accommodations, violations of sanitary rules. Increasingly—not without a feeling of guilt—he had turned most of it over to Edilio.

It had been months since Sam had been involved in any serious craziness. And this mission had just enough craziness without any real danger.

The meeting broke up. Sam stood up, stretched, and noticed Sinder and Jezzie running along the shore from the eastern end, where they were tending a small, irrigated plot of vegetables.

Something about their body language spelled trouble.

Sam’s houseboat was tied up at the end of the surviving dock. (It had doubled as the stage for the Friday Fun Fest.) He waited until Sinder and Jezzie were below him on the dock.

“Sam!” Sinder gasped. She was in her modified Goth stage—it was hard to find makeup, but she could still manage to find black clothing.

“T’sup, Sinder? Hi, Jezzie.”

Sinder gathered her wits, took a steadying breath, and said, “This is going to sound crazy, but the wall… It’s changing.”

“We were weeding the carrots,” Jezzie said.

“And then we noticed this, like, black stain on the barrier.”

“What?”

“The barrier,” Sinder said. “It’s changing color.”

SIX

43 HOURS, 17 MINUTES

QUINN LEFT HIS crews to unload the catch at the dock. Normally he went straight to Albert to report the day’s haul, but he had a more pressing concern today. He wanted to check on Cigar.