Gone (4 page)

"CA" was easy. Coates Academy. And "G" was probably the head of the school, Grace. "S," too, was easy: Sam. But who was "C"?

One line seemed to vibrate as he stared at it: "Just like S with T."

Astrid was reading over his shoulder. She was trying to be subtle, but she was definitely peeking. He closed the laptop.

"Let's go."

"Where?" Quinn asked. "Anywhere but here," Sam said.

297 HOURS, 40 MINUTES

"LET'S HEAD FOR the plaza" Sam said. He closed the door of his home behind him, locked it, and stuck the key in his jeans.

"Why?" Quinn asked.

"It's where people will probably go" Astrid said. "There's nowhere else, is there? Unless they go back to the school. If anyone knows anything, or if there are any adults, that's where they'd be"

Perdido Beach occupied a headland southwest of the coastal highway. On the north side of the highway the hills rose sharply, dry brown and patchy green, and formed a series of ridges that ran into the sea northwest and southeast of town, limiting the town to just this space, confining it to just this bulge.

There were just over three thousand residents in Perdido Beach—far fewer now. The nearest mall was in San Luis. The nearest major shopping center was down the coast twenty miles. North, up the coast, the mountains pressed so close to the sea that there was no space for building, except for the nanow strip where the nuclear power plant sat Beyond that was national parkland, a forest of ancient redwoods.

Perdido Beach had remained a sleepy little town of straight, tree-lined streets and mostly older, Spanish-style stucco bungalows with sloped orange tile roots or old-style flat roofs. Most people had a Ia*vn they kept well-trimmed and green. Most people had a fenced backyard. In the tiny downtown, ringing the plaza, there were palm trees and plenty of angled parking spaces,

Perdido Beach had a resort hotel south of town, and Coates Academy up in the hills, and the power plant, bui aside from that, only a smattering of businesses: the Ace hardware, the McDonald's, a coffee shop called Bean There, a Subway sandwich shop, a couple of convenience stores, one grocery store, and a Chevron station on the highway.

The closer Sam and Astrid and Quinn got, the more kids they encountered walking towarc the plaza. It was like somehow all the kids in town had figured out that they wanted to be together. Strength in numbers. Or maybe it was just the crushing loneliness of homes thyt were suddenly not homey anymore.

Half a block away, Sam smelted smoke and saw kids running.

The plaza was a small open space, a sort of park with patches of grass and a fountain in the middle that almost never worked. There were benches and brick sidewalks and trash cans. Ar the top of the square the modest town hall and a church sat side by side. Stores ringed the plaza, some of them closed up forever. Above some of the stores were apartments. Smoke was pouring from
z
second-story window of an apartment above an out-of-business flower shop and a seedy insurance agency. As Sam came to a panting slop, a jet of orange flame burst from a high window.

Several dozen kids were standing, watching. A crowd that struck Sam as very strange, until he realized why it was strange; there were no adults, just kids.

"Is anyone in there?" Astrid called out. No one answered.

"It could spread," Sam said.

"There's no 911 "someone pointed oui.

"If it spreads, it could burn down half the town"

"You see a fireman anywhere?" A helpless shrug.

The day care shared a wall with the hardware store, and both were only a narrow alley away from the burning building. Sam figured they had time to get the kids out of the day care if they acted fast, but the hardware store was something they could not afford to lose.

There had to be forty kids just standing there gawking. No one seemed about to start doing anything.

"Great," Sam said. He grabbed two kids he sort of knew. "You guys, go to the day care. Tell them to get the littles out ofthere,"

The kids stared at him without moving.

"Now. Go. Do it!" he said, and they took off running.

Sam pointed at two other kids."You and you. Go into the hardware store, get the longest hose you can find. Get a spray nozzle, too-I think there's a spigot in that alley. Start spraying water on the side of the hardware store and up on the roof."

These two also stared blankly. "Dudes: Not tomorrow. Now. Now, Go! Quinn? You better go with them. We want to wet down the hardware—that** where the wind will take the fire next."

Quinn hesitated.

People were not getting this. How could they not see that they had to do something, not just stand around?

Sam pushed to the front of the crowd and in a loud voice said, "Hey, listen up, this isn't the Disney Channel. We can't just watch this happen. There aie no adults. There's no tire department. We are the fire department"

Edilio was there. He said,"Sam's right. What do you need, Sam? I'm with you"

"Okay. Quinn? The hoses from the hardware store. Edilio? Let's get the big hoses from the tire station, hook *em up to the hydrant"

"They'll be heavy. I'll need some strong guys."

"You, you, you, you" Sam grabbed each person's shoulder, shaking each one* pushing them into motion."Come on. You. You. Let's go!"

And then came the wailing.

Sam froze.

"There's someone in there," a girl moaned. "Quiet," Sam hissed, and everyone fell silent, listening to the roar and crackle of the tire, the distant car alarms, and then, a cry: "Mommy" Again. "Mommy."

Someone mocked the voice in falsetto. "Mommy, I'm scared."

It was Ore, actually finding the situation funny. Kids drew away from him.

"What?" he demanded.

Howard, never far away from Ore, sneered. "Don't worry. School Bus Sam will save us all* won't you, Sam?"

"Edilio. Go," Sam said quietly. "Uring everything you can " "Man, you can't go up in there," Edilio said. "They'll have air tanks and stuff at the fire station. Wait, I'll bring it all." He was already running, shepherding his crew of strong kids ahead of him.

"Hey, up there." Sam yelled. "Kid. Can you get to the door or the window?"

He stared up, craning his neck. There were six windows on the front of the building upstairs, one in the alley. The far left window was where the fire was, but now smoke was drifting out of the second window, too. The fire was spreading.

"Mommy!" the voice cried. It was a clear voice, not choking from the smoke. Not yet.

"If you're going in there, wrap this around your tace" Somehow Astrid had come up with a wet cloth, borrowed from someone and soaked,

"Did I say I was going in there?'' Sam asked.

"Don't get hurt," Astrid said.

"Good advice," Sam said dryly, and wrapped the wet fabric around his head, over his mouth and nose.

She grabbed his arm. "Look, Sam, it's not fire that kills people, it's smoke. If you get too much smoke, your lungs will swell up, they'll fill with fluid?

"How much is too much?" he asked, his voice muffled by the doth.

Astrid smiled."! don't know everything, Sam"

Sam wanted to take her hand. He was scared. He needed someone to lend him some courage. He wanted to take her hand. But this wasn't the time. So he managed a shaky smile and said, "Here goes."

"Go for it, Sam " a voice yelled in encouragement. There was a ragged chorus of cheers from the crowd.

The entrance to the building was unlocked. Inside were mailboxes, a back door to the liower shop, a dark, narrow stairway heading up.

Sam almost made it to the top of the stairs before he ran into an opaque wall of swirling smoke. The wet cloth did nothing. One breath and he was on his knees, choking and gagging. Tears filled his stinging eyes.

He crouched low and found more air. "Kid, can you hear me?" he rasped. "Yell, I need to h*ar you "

The "Mommy" was faint this time, from down the hall to the left, halfway to the other side of the building. Maybe the kid would jump out the window into someone's arms, Sam told himself. It would be stupid to get himself killed if the kid could just jump.

The stink of the smoke was intolerable, awful, everywhere.

It had a sourness to it, like smoke plus curdled milk.

Sam stayed on his knees and crawled down the hallway. H was strange. Eerie. The ratty hall runner below him seemed so normal: faded Oriental pattern, frayed edges, a few crumbs, and a dead roach. An overhead light bulb was on. filtering pale light down through the ominous gray.

The smoke was swirling slowly lower, pressing down on him. forcing him lower and lower to find air.

There had to be six or seven apartments. No way to know which was the right one, the kid wasn't yelling anymore. But the apartment on fire was probably the one just to his right. Smoke was shooting out from below that door, thick, fast, and furious as a mountain stream. He had seconds, not minutes.

He rolled onto his back. The smoke pouring from under the door was like a waterfall in reverse, foiling upward in a cascade. He kicked at the door, but it was no good. The lock was higher up; all his kick did was rattle the door To break it open he would have to stand up, straight into that killing smoke.

He was scared. And he was mad, too. Where were the people who were supposed to do this? Where were the adults? Why was this up to him? He was just a kid. And why hadn't anyone else been crazy enough, stupid enough to rush into a burning building?

He was mad at all of them and, if Quinn was right and this was something God had done, then he was mad at God, too.

But if Sam had done this ... if Sam had made all this happen ... then there was no one to be mad at but himself.

He took in all the breath he could manage, jumped to his feet, and slammed against the door all in one frantic motion.

Nothing.

And slammed again. Nothing.

And again, and he had
to
breathe now, he had to, but the smoke was everywhere, in his nose, his eyes, blinding him. Again and the door opened and he fell in and hit the floor, facedown.

The smoke trapped in the room erupted into the hallway, exploded out like a lion escaping its cage. For a tew seconds there was a layer of breathable air at floor level and Sam took in a breath. He had to fight to keep from coughing it back out. if he did that, he was going to die, he knew it.

And for just a second it was partly clear in the apartment. Like a break in the clouds that gives you a little tease of clear blue sky before drawing the dark curtain once more.

The kid was on the floor, gauging, coughing, just a little kid, a girl, maybe five at most.

"f m here," Sam said in his strangled voice.

He must have looked terrifying. A big shape wreathed in smoke, face covered, black soot in his hair, smearing his skin.

He must have looked like a monster. That was the only explanation. Because the little girl, the terrified, panicky little girl, raised both of her hands, palms out, and from those chubby little hands came a blast, an explosion, jets of pure flame.

Flame. Shooting out of her tiny hands. Flame!

Aimed at him.

The bias! narrowly missed Sam. H passed his head with a whoosh and hit the wall behind him. it was like napalm, jellied gasoline, liquid fire thai stuck to the wall where it hit and burned with mad intensity.

For a second he could only stare, frozen in amazement.

Insane.

Impossible.

The little girl cried out in terror and raised her hands again, This time she wouldn't miss. This time she would kill him.

Not thinking, just reacting, Sam extended his arm, palm out. There was a Hash of light, bright as an exploding star. The kid fell on her back.

Sam crawled to her, shaking, stomach clenched, wanting to scream, thinking, no, no, no, no-

He scooped the kid into his arms, afraid she would wake up, and afraid that she wouldn't. He stood up.

The wall to his right fell in with a sound like ripping cardboard. Plaster was falling away, revealing the wall's structure, the lathe boards and two-by-Ibim. The fire was inside the wall.

A blast of heat, like opening an oven, staggered Sam. Astrid had said it wasn't the fire that killed you. Well, she hadn't seen this fire, or guessed that a little kid could shoot fiame from her hands.

Sam held the child in his arms. Fire to his back and to his right* crisping his eyelashes, baking his flesh. A window straight ahead.

He stumbled forward. He dropped the kid like a sack of dirt and slammed the window up with both hands. Smoke roiled around him, the fire chasirg it toward this fresh source of oxygen.

Sam lelt in the gloom for the child and found her. He lifted her, and there, miraculously, was a pair of hands waiting to take the kid. Hands reaching through the smoke, seeming almost supernatural.

Sam collapsed against the sill, half hanging out of the window, and someone grabbed him, and dragged and slid him down the aluminum ladder. His head smacked the rungs and he did not mind one tiny bit because out here was light and air and through squinting, weeping eyes he could see the blue sky,

Edilio and a kid named loel manhandled Sam down to the sidewalk.

Someone sprayed him with a nose. Did they think he was on tire?

Was he on fire?

He opened his mouth and gulped greedily at the cold water. It washed over his face.

But he couldn't hold on to consciousness. He floated away. Floated on his back on gentle surf

His mother was there. She was sitting on the water just beside him. Her chin rested on her knees. She wasn't looking at him.

"What?" he said to hen

"It smelled like tried chicken," she said.

"What?" he said.

His mother reached over and Slipped him hard across the face.

His eyes Hew open.

"Sorry" Astrid said. "I needed to wake you up"

She knelt beside him and placed something against his mouth. A plastic mask. Oxygen.

He coughed, and breathed. He pulled the mask away and threw up right on the sidewalk, doubled over like a drunk in an alleyway.