“Bug knows about this place,” Caine said. “It’s famous.”
“So why didn’t we hear about it earlier?” Diana asked, mumbling at the floor.
“Because Bug is an idiot and it didn’t occur to him,” Caine snapped. “But the island is there. It’s called San Francisco de Sales. It’s on the map.”
He pulled a torn and crumpled paper from his pocket and unfolded it. It was taken from an atlas in the school’s library. “See?” He held it up and was gratified to see flickers of actual interest.
“We’re going to get boats,” Caine said. “We’re going to get them in Perdido Beach.”
That killed whatever faint enthusiasm there had been. “They got all kinds of freaks and guns and all,” a girl nicknamed Pampers said.
“Yeah, they do,” Caine admitted wearily. “But they’re all going to be too busy to deal with us. And if any of them get in our way, I’ll take care of them. Me or Penny.”
Kids glanced at Penny. She was twelve years old. She’d probably been pretty once. A pretty little Chinese-American girl with a tiny nose and surprised eyebrows. Now she looked like a scarecrow, brittle hair, gums red from malnutrition, with a rash that covered her neck and arms in a lacy pink pattern.
Jason said, “I think you’re nuts. Go through Perdido Beach? Half of us can’t even walk that far, let alone fight. We’re starving, man. Unless you have some food to give us, we’ll fall out before we reach the highway.”
“Listen to me,” Caine said softly. “We’re definitely going to need some food. Soon.”
Diana looked up, dreading what Caine might do next.
“The only food we’re going to get is on that island. We reach it, or we find someone else to eat.”
NINETEEN
15 HOURS, 27 MINUTES
IT WAS WEIRD, Zil thought. Weird how it had come to this. Weird how scared he was, how rattly his insides were, but he couldn’t let on. Because he was in charge. Because they were all looking to him.
The Leader. Capital “T,” capital “L,” when Turk said it.
Turk, a creepy little toady with his bad leg and his rat face.
And Hank. Hank was scary. Probably crazy as a loon. Okay, not probably, definitely. Hank was always the one pushing, provoking, demanding.
The others. Twenty-three of them. Antoine, the fat dru
ggie. Max. Rudy. Lisa. Trent. Others Zil barely knew. The only one Zil really even liked was Lance. Lance was cool. Lance was the good-looking, smart one who made Zil feel like maybe this was all okay, like maybe Zil really did deserve to be The Leader, capital “T,” capital “L.”
Anyway, too late to turn back now. He’d made his deal with Caine. The deal was very simple: there were two people in the FAYZ who Zil had to fear above all others—Sam and Caine. Caine had offered Zil a chance to discredit one and wave good-bye to the other.
The time was now or never.
First things first. Gasoline. And after that it would be too late for second thoughts.
The declaration of total war against the freaks was a minute away.
Twenty-three of them filtered through the dark streets in ones and twos, guns and clubs hidden beneath hoodies and coats. Swaggering, some of them, others creeping along scared like mice. The great fear was that Sam might see them early. Try to stop them before they could start the party.
Zil laughed, not meaning to.
Turk was with him. Neither of them carrying a weapon, nothing that would give Sam an excuse if he stopped them.
“See, that’s a Leader,” Turk said in his greasy way. “You laugh despite everything.”
Zil said nothing. His stomach was in his throat.
So much could go wrong. Brianna. Dekka. Taylor. Edilio. Even Orc. Freaks and freak supporters, traitors. Any one of them could bring this to a sudden halt.