Plague (Gone 4)

“Trout,” Toto said. “Bass. Also crappie. Fish.”

“If we find fishing poles and stuff on the boats, it means there are fish,” Jack pointed out.

“It’s only, like, half a mile. We could swim,” Sam said.

“You could swim half a mile,” Dekka said. “Me, I’ll walk.”

They climbed out, Sam with great reluctance. It was invigorating, this new and unexplored body of water. Who knew what might be found on or around the lake?

But he understood that Dekka and the others might not be thrilled by a long, cold swim.

The shore was a series of curves, like the edge of a lace doily made with sketchy sand beaches and rocky promontories. They soon came upon a trail and were laughing and chatting lightheartedly.

Sam knew logically that without gas—and a lot of it—they’d never get enough water down to—

He stopped dead. “Marinas,” he said. He felt a chill that had nothing to do with temperature. “Marinas. You know what they have?”

“Boats?” Jack suggested, like he was afraid it was the wrong answer.

“Boats.” Sam grinned. “Sailboats, maybe. But you know what else? Motorboats. Jet skis.”

“You want to jet ski?”

“What do jet skis run on, my friend?”

“I want to say water,” Dekka said.

“Gas!” Jack cried.

Sam slapped him on the shoulder. “Yes! A marina isn’t a marina if they don’t have fuel.”

He grinned and started to run toward the marina. A nagging voice in his head warned him not to hope, not to expect a good answer. It’s the FAYZ, the voice said.

It’s still the FAYZ.

But after so much pain, so many disappointments, and so many horrors, surely they were due for some good news?

Surely.

Lana opened her eyes.

Patrick licked her face. Which was probably why she opened her eyes.

Something heavy lay on her chest. A head. Long, dark hair.

She pushed it away and it groaned, and said, “I’m awake.”

Sanjit sat up, looked at her, and wiped drool from the corner of his mouth.

Lana was on the beach. The sun was up but had not yet cleared the mountains. How she had come there she did not know. Instinctively she felt for her gun. It was not in her waistband. It had become tangled in the blanket.

“How did I get here?”

“I brought you here.”

Lana absorbed that. “Why?” she demanded suspiciously.

“You passed out.”