Light (Gone 6)

He had never felt anything like it. It could only come from one person: the Darkness. The green, vaporous tendrils that had often reached to touch his mind had this time struck him.

The gaiaphage. Had punched him. Hard enough to make his consciousness blink out for just a fraction of a second.

It was shocking. He had not known such a thing was possible. No one could hit him! It wasn’t okay. It was not okay to hit. His sister had told him that a lot of times. So had his mother.

It was not okay to hit. Even if you were mad or frustrated.

If it could happen once, it could happen again. The dark mind that had touched him very early on, that had shaped him in some ways, that had manipulated him at times, that had scared Pete at times—and feared him always—that constant if faraway companion had just hurt him.

Pete had begun to accept his own fading, the almost pleasurable sense of giving up and letting go of a life that had been short but painful. He was ready to go away. He was ready to fade out.

But that sudden attack . . . it was wrong. He hadn’t done anything to deserve it.

It was wrong.

And it made Pete angry.

Don’t hit me again, he thought.

Or else.

FOUR

76 HOURS, 52 MINUTES

THEY CLOSED THE door on the cabin. There wasn’t room enough for them to stand, so they fell into each other’s arms on the bunk.

Sam kissed her and tried not to think that it was for the last time.

He was happy. That was the hell of it. He was finally happy. Right here, right now, in this place, with this girl in his arms, he was happy. Was that why he felt the hammer about to fall on him? No, that was crazy. He was happy. Happiness didn’t mean that tragedy was coming around the corner. Did it?

“He shouldn’t ask you to do this,” Astrid said.

“Sure he should,” Sam said. “Who else is going to go if not me?”

“You’ve done enough. You’ve done more than enough. A hundred times more than enough.”

They were only inches apart, so close that Sam could feel her breath on his face when she spoke. So close he could hear her heart beating too fast.

“It’s the endgame, Astrid,” Sam said softly.

“You’re supposed to survive the endgame,” Astrid pleaded.

“What am I going to do? Hide here with you and hope it all blows over?”

“Maybe, yes. Maybe just don’t go out looking for a fight this time. Maybe just let it be on someone else.”

“Gaia ran off with Drake and Diana, but I don’t think it was because she was weak. If she is weak, great, let’s find out now and maybe end this easily.”

His words made sense. She wouldn’t be able to dispute them.

“And if she’s not weak? If she’s exactly what we think she is and just as dangerous as we’re afraid she is? Then what, Sam?”

“Then better to move on her before she’s ready. Better not to let her choose the time and place.” He tilted his head to rest against hers, sharing the pillow. “Edilio’s right. You know he is.”

He was a little disappointed when she didn’t have a good counterargument. A part of him had been hoping that he was wrong. Her silence was his doom.

Another fight. Another battle. How many could he survive? He was living on luck. Was he supposed to believe that the world meant him to be happy with Astrid? That didn’t sound like the world he knew.