Hunger (Gone 2)

The only sound was the off-key, musical patter of falling debris.

Caine stared, blank. Blank.

It went on for too long. But no one dared speak. Then, as if someone had thrown a switch, Caine’s expression became human once more. He smiled a shaky smile.

“We can use this girl, Drake,” Caine said calmly. Then, to Orsay directly, “We can, can’t we? We can use you? You’ll do whatever I tell you to do? And you will obey only me?”

Orsay tried to find her voice but couldn’t even manage a whisper. She nodded vigorously.

“Good. Because if I ever doubt you, Orsay, I’ll give you to Drake. You don’t want that.”

Caine slumped, used up. Without another word he weaved his way to the door.

Lana patted her dog, Patrick, on his thick ruff. “Ready?”

Patrick made his little whimpering sound, the one that meant, “Come on, let’s get going.”

Lana stood up and checked the Velcro strap that held her iPod in place on her arm. She made sure the bright yellow headphones were in place—her ears were too small for the standard earbuds.

She dialed up her “running” play list. But, of course, she didn’t really run now. Running made hunger unbearable. Now she just walked. And not as far as she had run.

Back in the old days, before the FAYZ, she’d done neither. But that, like so much, had changed. There was nothing like dragging through the desert without water or a clue, and then being made a captive of a swift-moving coyote pack, to make you think you should get in shape.

She liked to begin in silence. She liked to hear the sound of her sneaker treads, almost silent on the carpeted hotel floor. Then satisfyingly loud on the blacktop.

Her route began at the front door of Clifftop. It was an automatic door, and it still worked. It was weird, still weird after all this time, that the door’s sensor should be patiently awaiting the signal to open wide the doors to the outside world.

From Clifftop she would walk down toward Town Beach. Then she would cut through town, but away from the plaza, join the highway, and complete the circle back to Clifftop. Unless she was too weak from hunger. Then she would cut that short.

She knew she should probably not burn unnecessary calories. But she couldn’t bring herself to stop. To stop, to spend a day lying on the bed, was to surrender. Lana didn’t like the idea of surrender. She hadn’t surrendered to pain, or to Pack Leader, or to the Darkness.

I don’t surrender, she told herself.

Come to me. I have need of you.

As she got beyond the Clifftop approach road and headed down the slope, Lana punched the iPod’s touchscreen and her ears were filled with a Death Cab for Cutie song.

But it was the other lyrics she heard, like a whisper, like a second track beneath this song.

She’d gone no more than a hundred yards along when two little kids intercepted her, waving their hands to get her attention.

They looked healthy enough to her. She gave them a short wave and hoped that would be enough.

But the two littles moved to block her way. She stopped, panting a little, even though she shouldn’t be, and ripped off her headphones.

“What?” she snapped.

There was some hemming and hawing before the kids could blurt it out.

“Joey’s got a loose tooth.”

“So what? He’s supposed to be getting new teeth.”

“But it hurts. You’re supposed to fix things that hurt.”

“Supposed to?” Lana echoed. “Look, kids, if you’re bleeding from some big gaping wound you can bug me. I’m not here for every little headache or skinned knee or loose tooth.”

“You’re mean,” the kid said.