Dekka nodded. “The same asteroid or whatever it was, the rock, more of it has come, and more may be coming. I don’t know. I don’t know if anyone knows—maybe Shade Darby. But the powers . . . that’s all changed. I don’t know if that’s because of the dome, or because Little Pete held the gaiaphage back, but whatever, this stuff is out of control now. The main difference is that you need to physically morph.”

“Like Orc?” Astrid asked.

“Maybe. But turned up to eleven. And we can turn it on or off. I can become this . . . this thing. This creature. By choice. When I am the creature, when I am in morph—which is what we’re calling it for some reason—I can make things come apart. Shred things. People, too, if I’m not careful. Armo came by a different path, but he’s one, too, now, a COR, a Child of the Rock. Rockborn or Rockborn 2.0, some people say.” Dekka’s lip curled. She had never been a big fan of social media, and after years of being referred to as “the black lesbian” and much worse, and now frequently identified as “Lesbokitty,” her opinion had not improved. “You and Astrid are being labeled as O-COR—Original Children of the Rock. The Rockborn 2.0 include people like Shade Darby and her friend Cruz. And as you’ve seen on TV, a bunch of, um, unpleasant people.”

“We saw the video of the Golden Gate and the Port of LA,” Astrid said.

“And there’s this . . . thing,” Dekka said in a low tone. She tapped the side of her head. “When we change, when we morph, we . . . I was going to say ‘hear’ but we don’t, we just feel or sense or are aware of these . . . well, we’ve been calling them Dark Watchers. I think it’s them. I think it’s the same creatures who fired the damned asteroid toward us.”

“Dark Watchers?” Astrid said, narrowing her eyes. “Interesting. Probably just a coincidence.”

Her husband looked at her expectantly.

“It’s an old California legend,” Astrid said. “The Dark Watchers. I think it started with the Chumash Indians and was picked up by the Spanish, who called them Los Vigilantes Oscuros. Supposedly they are nonhuman creatures who only appear at twilight in the area around Monterey down to, well, down to Perdido Beach. Steinbeck actually referenced them. . . . Anyway,” she concluded, sensing that her lecture was getting a bit lecture-y, “probably coincidence.”

A long, tense silence fell, broken finally by Armo, who said, “I’m sorry, but do you have anything to eat?”

Astrid patted Sam on the shoulder and said, “Why don’t you make some sandwiches?”

Something passed between Sam and Astrid, something tinged with frustration and regret. Sam nodded finally, like a condemned man accepting a judge’s just sentence. He left and Armo went with him, leaving Dekka and Astrid alone.

Astrid wasted no time. “You are not dragging Sam into this, Dekka.”

Dekka felt a surge of irritation—a very familiar feeling when she dealt with Astrid.

“He doesn’t have the power anymore. He’s just a guy, a regular human being.” Astrid stopped herself, seeing Dekka’s raised eyebrow. “Okay, he’s still Sam. But he has no powers. He’ll go with you if you ask him, you know he will. And he’ll die.” Her voice cracked on that last word. “He had his war, Dekka.”

Dekka heard the echo of her own voice saying just about those same words to Tom Peaks, the man who had run the monstrous HSTF-66 facility called the Ranch before being fired and choosing the path of the rock to become the monster Dragon.

“I don’t want him to come,” Dekka said. “Not really. I mean, look, does part of me sort of automatically reach for him when the trouble starts? Yeah, Astrid. If I live to be a hundred, whenever the shit hits the fan I’ll still probably be thinking, ‘Get Sam.’ But you’re right. And I know it.”

Astrid sighed. “So does he. He knows. He’s barely voting age and he feels he’s washed up. He doesn’t know what to do. We have money from the book and the movie, so we’re not struggling, but Sam needs to find a place for himself in the world, and it can’t be with you, Dekka.”

Irritation drained away. Dekka hung her head and said, “You know, I don’t like you, Astrid, I never have. But you stand by Sam. You love him, and I honor the hell out of that. If I ever meet someone who loves me half as much as you do him, well, that would be pretty great. I will never do anything to hurt Sam.”

Strange, Dekka thought, two young women who could not be more different, talking about Sam Temple as if he was a fragile child they had to protect. Sam and Armo came back in, laughing at some shared joke, and set sandwiches down. Armo had one halfway down his throat already. Both young men caught the mood, and Sam shot a look at his wife and then at Dekka.

“Ah. So the decision’s been made,” he said with a mixture of rueful acceptance and frustration. He shrugged. Then he held up the hands that had once had the power to blast a beam of light capable of cutting through steel. Nothing happened. “Honestly, I wouldn’t be of much use.”

Dekka said, “Right, you’re all done for, useless and pathetic.” She shook her head. “Don’t make me slap the crap out of you, Sam. I am not going to feel sorry for you, and if you feel sorry for yourself, I swear to God I will kick it right out of you.”

To Dekka’s delight and Astrid’s relief, Sam burst out laughing. “I have missed you, Dekka. You, Edilio, Lana . . . Breeze.”

Dekka felt the familiar catch in her throat on hearing that last name. Brianna, the Breeze, Dekka’s one-way, unreciprocated, hopeless, doomed, magnificent love. “We kicked more than our share of ass,” Dekka said.

Sam looked intently at his friend. “You’ve got something else to tell us, Dekka.”

“He hasn’t gotten any dumber,” Dekka said to Astrid, trying for a light tone.

“Well, he couldn’t, really,” Astrid said, playing along. It was an old joke between Astrid the Genius and Sam the surfer dude.

“Spill it,” Sam said, undeterred.

Dekka folded her hands, twining the fingers. “I don’t think it showed up on the public footage, at least not the stuff I’ve seen.”

Sam waited, and Astrid, as if sensing the nee

d, stood up.

Tags: Michael Grant Gone
Source: readsnovelonline.net