Fight for Power (36 page)

Both Owen and Tim had their rifles slung over their backs and their pistols in their hands, roughly aimed in my direction as I led them to the plane. We all stopped behind a truck to catch our breath. They seemed to be panting hard—even harder than me. It wasn't just the run. They were afraid, even more than I was.

“I guess they're over the wall now,” I said. “No shots and no trouble. They're going to the meeting spot, but I'm not sure how we're going to meet anybody. It's not like I can put this plane down in a parking lot. It takes a lot of space to land.”

“Brett's taken care of it.”

“I'm not sure he even knows enough to realize just how much space it takes to land a Cessna. If we get up there with no place to land, we're all dead.”

“You can definitely land a Cessna there,” Owen said.

“And now you're an expert, too?” I asked.

“Not an expert, but it's been done before. We know that. The Division used to land a Cessna there all the time.”

“The Division?” That could mean only one thing. “We're going to land at the compound, aren't we?”

“We shouldn't be telling you that,” Tim said.

“You already did. He's meeting you at the compound. That's just crazy. How do you even know that those men, the Division, haven't come back? We could be flying into a trap and be captured.”

“We won't be captured,” Owen said. “It isn't a trap.”

Now I had one more terrible revelation. “It's not a trap because you know that the remnants of those men are back there. You're going to join the people who were trying to kill us all. You've already partnered up with them, haven't you?”

Neither Owen nor Tim answered, which was the clearest answer imaginable.

“Look, there's no telling what they might do. We land and they might just kill all three of us and take the plane,” I said.

“They won't do that,” Tim said. “They won't harm us.”

“Brett arranged an alliance with them,” Owen said.

“When did he do that?” I demanded.

“A couple of weeks ago, before it all exploded, before we were taken prisoner,” Tim said. “Brett, he's always got a backup plan, and that was it.”

“He said he didn't know if the neighborhood would survive, but he knew that those men would,” Owen said.

“He wanted to be part of them? What about the people in this neighborhood?” I demanded.

“Shut up,” Tim hissed. “I've had enough of your lecture. We're going. Either you get us out of here or I just put a bullet in your head right now.”

I'd pushed him too far. Maybe I'd push him a little further.

“You shoot me, and the guards will be here soon enough. You'll be shooting yourself. You'll both be dead.”

“Maybe, maybe not, but you'd be too dead to find out what happens to us,” Owen said. “So which will it be?” he asked as he aimed at my head.

“We're going.”

We were going to the plane, but there was no way we were going to that compound. I'd try to stop them before we got up into the air, but if we did get airborne none of us was going to land in one piece. I'd crash the plane before I'd let that happen.

“Follow me,” I said.

I moved past the last three rows of cars and came up to the Cessna. They were right behind me, so close that I could hear them breathing. I went to the wheels and kicked out the blocks holding the plane in place. We'd positioned the plane when I came back so it could taxi out of the lot, along the road, and through the gate without having to be turned around.

I opened the cockpit door. “Climb in,” I said.

Owen put a foot on the strut, but Tim stopped him. “You first,” Tim ordered me.

I tossed my shoes onto the seat and pulled myself up and in. Owen tried to climb in through my door, going over the top of me to get to the copilot's seat, and I stopped him.

“Get into the back,” I said, “unless you're going to fly it.”

He scrambled over the seat and then Tim climbed in after him, also going to the back.

“Once I start the engine everybody is going to be looking this way. You have to stay low and not let them see you,” I said. “Lay the rifles down and then get out of sight.”

Both ducked down, but the tops of their heads were still visible.

“You have to get lower.”

They both disappeared from view. I turned the ignition switch and the engine roared to life. There was no question that the guards on the wall heard it. I flicked on the running lights and now we were visible as well. I opened the throttle and gave it the gas, and we started rumbling forward.

I looked over my shoulder. Tim and Owen were neither visible out the windows nor able to see what I was going to do. I reached down with one hand and removed the pistol from my sock. Slowly, helped only by the slight illumination from the control panel lights, I brought it up and clicked off the safety, the sound covered by the noise of the engine. I could just lean over the seat and shoot them both, one and then the other. They'd never know what hit them. It would be simple.

But I couldn't do it. I couldn't execute the two of them. I had to give them a chance even if they weren't giving me any chances.

I turned off the engine and they both looked up at me looking down at them.

“What's wrong? Why have you turned the engine—” Owen began.

He saw the gun in my hand.

“Don't move. Put down your pistols or I'll shoot.”

Owen looked like he was going to comply, but Tim didn't budge. “There are two of us, Adam. Do you really think you can shoot us? Brett always says you don't have what it takes to pull the trigger.”

“Are you going to stake your lives on what a maniac like Brett thinks?” I asked.

“We have no choice.”

Tim swung his gun up. I saw Owen's arm start to go up as well, and then I pulled the trigger and fired and fired and fired and fired until the firing pin just clicked and clicked and clicked on the empty clip. Fumes of sulfur and smoke filled the cockpit, and my ears felt like they had been shattered, the explosions echoing in my head.

I pushed open the door and tumbled out of the plane, smashing heavily onto the pavement. My stomach retching, vomit flowing out and onto my legs and to the asphalt, I tried to get up. But my legs collapsed under me. I pushed over and away from the vomit and propped myself up against the wheel of the Cessna.

I heard the dull thumping of feet and saw lights bouncing toward me—guards were rushing at me from all directions.

“Put up your hands! Put them into the air!”

“He's got a gun!” somebody else screamed.

I'd forgotten I was still holding the pistol. I let it drop to the ground and raised my hands.

“It's me!” I screamed. “It's me—Adam!” My stomach churned again and I vomited once more.

“It's Adam, it's Adam! Put down your weapons!”

I looked up. It was Howie.

He bent down beside me. “Adam, are you all right? What happened?”

I tried to answer but couldn't find any words. I was too stunned to talk. I gestured to the plane.

Howie stood up and flashed a light inside the plane. “Oh, my God … What happened?”

“I … I killed them.”

“It's the prisoners,” Howie gasped. “Two of them … But how? Why are they here?”

“They escaped. All of them. Brett is gone … over the wall. They killed all the guards but one.”

Howie barked out some orders, sending some men to the house that was being used as the jail.

“I'll send for Herb,” Howie said. “He'll know what to do.”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “He won't. Herb is dead. They killed him.”

I staggered to my feet, my legs wobbling, threatening to buckle again. Howie offered me his hand for support.

“I've got to get to my house. I have to make sure my family is all right.”

“Why wouldn't they be all right?” Howie questioned.

“Brett was in my house. He took me from there. He said he wasn't going to hurt them if I went with him. I have to check.”

“Somebody, bring me a car!” Howie yelled.

People started to scramble, but before they could even react car headlights swept over the parking lot and an engine roared. I knew the sound of that motor—it was my Omega. It squealed to a stop and my father jumped out of the driver's seat, my mother came out of the other door, and then Rachel and Danny climbed out after them from the backseat.

I ran across the parking lot and practically jumped into my father's arms. My mother and then the kids all came together, wrapping me into the middle of their embrace. They started to ask me questions, but I had no words.

I just started to cry, and that started my mother and father and the twins crying. They were here, and we were together and safe.

No.

Safe might never happen again.

Ever.

 

Farrar Straus Giroux Books for Young Readers

175 Fifth Avenue, New York 10010

 

Copyright © 2015 by Eric Walters

All rights reserved

First hardcover edition, 2015

eBook edition, January 2015

 

macteenbooks.com

 

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The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:

 

Walters, Eric, 1957–

    The rule of three: fight for power / Eric Walters. — First American edition.

    pages cm

    Summary: “In a world gone dark, life goes on for Adam and his fortified neighborhood—but the trade-offs made for safety and security are increasingly wrenching and questionable”—Provided by publisher.

    ISBN 978-0-374-30179-8 (hardcover)

    ISBN 978-0-374-30180-4 (ebook)

    [1.  Electric power failures—Fiction.   2.  Survival—Fiction.   3.  Neighborhoods—Fiction.   4.  Science fiction.]   I.  Title.   II.  Title: Fight for power.

PZ7.W17129Rv 2015

[Fic]—dc23

2014037070

 

eISBN 9780374301804