Fear: A Gone Novel

Turk?”
    “Um…”
    Caine stormed off, muttering, “I miss Diana.”
    Quinn was still vibrating with rage by the time he made his way to Clifftop. Rage. But fear, too. In getting Cigar out of Penny’s grip he had made a very dangerous enemy. Maybe two. Or even three, depending on where Albert came down.
    Walking through the carpeted hall, feeling his way in the dark, Quinn realized with surprise that he was hearing voices. From a room at the far end of the hall from Lana’s oceanfront room he heard children playing.
    He stopped and listened.
    “You lose; you totally lose, Peace.”
    “Because you cheated, you little thief!”
    “Guys, keep it down, huh?” That last voice Quinn recognized as Virtue, who was often called Choo.
    Sanjit had moved his siblings into Clifftop? When had that happened? The whole bunch of them, all the island kids, had moved to the lake with Lana. But after a few days she’d returned. Clifftop had become a part of Lana. It was where she felt safe.
    Quinn realized with a stab of jealousy that Lana had okayed the island kids moving in here. No one argued with Lana. And until now she had placed an absolute ban on anyone sharing even a tiny corner of her Clifftop redoubt.
    He knew that Lana was sort of seeing Sanjit, the new kid. But letting him move his whole family into Clifftop?
    There had been a time when Quinn thought Lana and he might… But then events and realities had killed that daydream. Quinn was just a working guy, a fisherman. Lana was the Healer. As such she was the most protected, respected, even revered person in the FAYZ. Not even Caine would dream of messing with Lana.
    And as intimidating as all that was, there was more: Lana was as tough as a spiked baseball bat.
    She had seemed far, far above Quinn.
    Patrick heard him and set up a loud and sustained barking.
    Quinn knocked even though it seemed superfluous. The peephole went dark. The door was opened by Sanjit.
    “It’s Quinn,” he yelled over his shoulder. “Come on in, man.”
    Quinn stepped in. In the weird glow of a small Sammy sun the transformation of Lana’s room was shocking: it was clean.
    Really clean. With the bed made and the coffee table clear. The usual overflowing ashtray was nowhere to be seen—or smelled.
    Even Patrick looked as if he’d been bathed and brushed. He ran over and began rubbing himself against Quinn, probably looking to pick up some pleasant fish smell to replace all the odors that had been rudely shampooed away.
    Sanjit, a slim Indian-looking kid with an infectious smile and long black hair, noticed Quinn’s surprise but said nothing.
    Lana came in from the balcony. She at least had not changed much. She still had a huge semiautomatic pistol stuck in a thick belt. She still had the same pretty but not beautiful looks. And her expression was still somewhere between vulnerable and forbidding, like she might just as easily break down in tears or shoot you in the stomach.
    “Hi, Quinn, what is it?”
    There was nothing embarrassed or ill at ease in her tone. If she knew that Quinn was feeling jealous she gave no sign of it.
    Not what I’m here for, Quinn told himself, feeling guilty to be letting his own feelings gain any hold when the picture of poor Cigar was still so fresh in his mind.
    “It’s Cigar,” Quinn said. “He’s at Dahra’s.” He quickly told her what had happened.
    Lana nodded and grabbed her backpack. “Don’t wait up,” she told Sanjit.
    Quinn swallowed hard on that. Sanjit was actually living with Lana? In the same room? Was Quinn misunderstanding this? Because that was sure what it sounded like.
    Patrick fell in beside Lana, sensing an adventure.
    Down the hallway, then down the stairs to ground level, Lana led the way through the pitch-black lobby and out into the night, bright by contrast.
    “So,” Quinn said, letting the word hang there between them.
    “I got lonely,” Lana said. “I get nightmares. It helps having someone there sometimes.”
    “It’s not my business,” Quinn muttered.
    Lana stopped and faced him. “Yeah, it’s your business, Quinn. You and I…” She didn’t quite know how to finish that, so she just shifted to a gruffer tone and said, “But it’s no one else’s business.”
    They walked on quickly.
    “Who would I tell?” Quinn asked rhetorically.
    “You ought to have someone to tell,” Lana said. “I know. Sounds weird coming from me.”
    “A little bit.” Quinn was trying to nurture his resentment, but