Fear (Gone 5)

“Um… Yes. I guess you could say that.”

“I heard she’s mean,” Keira offered.

“No,” Sanjit protested. “She’s tough. That’s all.”

“You know who’s really mean?” Tabitha asked. “Turk. He pushed me once and I fell down and skinned both my knees.”

“Sorry that—”

“And then I went to see Lana and she told me to go wash off in the ocean and not bother her.” Tabitha lowered her voice and added, “Only she said it meaner, with a bunch of cusswords.”

Sanjit resisted the grin that wanted to spread across his face. Yep. That would be Lana, all right. “Maybe she was just busy at the time.”

It was good to have some silly gossip to distract them all. And the two girls seemed to have an endless stream: who liked who, who didn’t like who, who might like who.

Sanjit didn’t know half the people they were talking about, but it was still better than looking up at the sky and watching the stain grow higher and the ragged circle of light grow smaller.

What were they going to do when the light went out?

As if reading his thoughts, or maybe just noticing his worried expression, Keira said, “Sam Temple can make lights.”

“With his hands,” Tabitha explained.

“Like lamps.” Then without prompting Keira patted Mason on his Iron Man helmet and said, “Don’t worry, Mase: that’s why we’re going to the lake.”

At which point Mason began to cry.

Sanjit couldn’t blame him. Nothing sounded hollower than a reassurance in this place.

O

nce he delivered his message to Sam he would have to find his way back to Perdido Beach. Would there be any light at all by then? How was he going to get back to Lana across ten miles of emptiness in the dark?

One thing he was sure of: he would go back.

“I have to poop,” Mason said.

Sanjit let him slide down.

More delay. Less likelihood of any light for the homeward trip.

The sun was already most of the way across the narrowed sky. Sanjit knew he should break away, run for it. He could run the whole way there. He’d deliver his message sooner and he’d get back sooner and…

Sanjit saw something moving through the brush off at the limits of his excellent sight. Something low and quick, slinking through brush.

Coyotes.

Lana had offered him a pistol, urged it on him. “I don’t know how to shoot,” he’d said, pushing it back.

“Take it or I’ll shoot you with it myself.”

They had kissed after that. Just a hurried kiss in the shadow of the church as Lana moved between injured kids. And he had plastered on his jaunty smile and tossed off a jaunty wave and taken off.

What if he never saw her again?

Mason finished his business. The coyotes were no longer in view. The sun touched the far edge of the remaining sky.

Caine had waited. Patiently, since circumstances had forced patience on him. Lana helped the victims of Penny’s assault.