Fear: A Gone Novel

that.”
    Albert waved an impatient hand and glanced over to see that the Boston Whaler was ready. “Caine’s a leader. Sam’s a leader. Me?” Albert considered it for a second and shook the idea off. “No. I’m important, but I’m not a leader. Tell you what, though, Quinn: in my absence you speak for me. If that helps, good for you.”
    Albert climbed down into the Boston Whaler. Pug started the engine and Leslie-Ann cast off the ropes. Some of the last gasoline in Perdido Beach sent the boat chugging out of the marina.
    “Hey, Quinn!” Albert shouted back. “Don’t come to the island without showing a white flag. I don’t want to blow you up!”
    Quinn wondered how he would ever reach the island. And how Albert would be able to see a white flag if he did. Unless something changed no one would be seeing anything. It would be a world of universal blindness.
    That thought made him think of Cigar. Cigar and his creepy little BB eyes. He had to locate Cigar. Whatever happened, he was still crew.
    He heard a surge of sound from the plaza, voices yelling, and one shrill voice screeching. He knew that screech.
    He started toward town, then stopped and waited as his fishermen gathered around him. “Guys, I … I, um, don’t know what’s happening. We may never fish together again. And, you know… But I’m thinking it’s better if we stick together anyway.”
    As an inspirational rallying speech, it was pretty lame. And yet, it worked. He walked toward the sounds of fear and anger with all his people behind him.
    Lana kept her hoodie pulled close around her face. She did not want to be recognized by anyone in the crowd. She had come down to town only to see whether Caine would arrange an armed escort for her. She’d found a scene out of some deranged horror novel.
    In eerie shadows the crowd of some two hundred kids, armed with spiked baseball bats, crowbars, table legs, chains, knives, and axes, dressed in mismatched rags and remnants of costume, stood facing a prancing, fist-shaking, wild-eyed, barefoot lunatic and a handsome boy with a crown stapled to his scalp and his hands trapped in a block of concrete.
    Now they were taking up a chant. “Let him go. Let him go.”
    They were chanting for Caine. They were scared to death and now, finally, they really wanted a king. They really wanted anyone who would save them.
    “Let him go! Let him go!”
    And a second chant: “We want the king! We want the king!”
    Sudden screams from those closest to the steps. Lana could see kids falling back, clawing at their faces, crying out.
    Penny had attacked!
    “Kill the witch!” a voice bellowed.
    A club went flying through the air. It missed Penny. A chunk of concrete, a knife, all missed.
    Penny raised her hands over her head and screamed obscenities. A chunk of something hit her arm and drew blood.
    The kids who’d been struck by her visions panicked and ran from her, but other kids were shoving forward. It was a melee, a tangle of arms and legs and weapons, shouts, orders; and suddenly from the far side came a wedge of disciplined kids moving forward with arms linked, pushing between the steps and the crowd.
    Lana recognized the boy at the center of that wedge. She laughed in rueful surprise.
    “Quinn,” she said to herself. “Well.”
    Penny was staring transfixed at the wound on her arm, but she tore herself away to advance on Quinn. “You!”
    Quinn cried out in agony. There was no way to know what Penny was doing to him, but it must have been awful.
    Lana had had enough. There were injured kids. There were about to be more injured kids. Her mission to warn Diana wasn’t going to happen.
    Lana drew her pistol. “Get out of my way,” she snapped at two kids blocking her path. She moved quickly, unnoticed, down First Avenue, skirting the crowd from the opposite direction that Quinn had taken.
    A panicky riot had broken out at the base of the steps as Penny wreaked all the damage her sick mind could conjure. Kids were attacking one another, seeing monsters where none existed.
    Lana flinched as a crowbar rose high and came down with a sickening crunch.
    She made it to the church steps and crossed over from there to town hall. Caine glanced and saw her. Penny did not.
    Lana leveled the gun at Penny. “Stop,” Lana said.
    Penny’s reddened face grew pale. Whatever visions she was inflicting on the people below her stopped. Kids cried in pain, sobbed from the memories.
    “Oh, everyone has to kiss your