Gone

every closet, under every bed, behind every curtain, even look into the attic crawl spaces.
    He felt a moment of panic then. Astrid could be anywhere. He would look like a fool if he didn’t get her.
    Where would she go?
    He checked the garage. Nothing there. No cars, certainly no Astrid. But there was a lawnmower, and where there was a lawnmower, there would be…yes, a gas can.
    He wondered what would happen if Astrid and the retard magicked their way into a burning building?
    Drake opened the gas can, went to the kitchen, and began drizzling the gasoline across the counters, into the family room, a splash for the drapes, trailing into the dining room,across the table, and another splash for the front curtains.
    He couldn’t find a match. He tore a piece of paper towel and lit it on the stove. He tossed the burning twist of paper onto the dining room table and left by the front door, not bothering to close it.
    “That’s one place she won’t be able to hide,” he told himself.
    He raced back to the plaza and up the stairs of the church. The church had a steeple. It wasn’t very tall, but it would give him a pretty good perspective.
    Up the circular stairs. He pushed a hinged hatch and climbed up into a cramped, dusty, cobwebbed space dominated by a bell. He carefully avoided touching the bell—the sound would carry.
    The windows were shuttered, covered with angled vents that let airflow through and sound resonate out, but only allowed him to see down. He used the butt of the rifle to knock the first vent out. It tumbled to the ground below.
    Kids in the plaza looked up. Let them. He smashed the other three vents out and they clattered down. Now he had an unrestricted view in every direction across the orange tile roofs of Perdido Beach.
    He started from Astrid’s house, which was already beginning to smoke. He worked his way methodically, a hunter, looking for any movement. Each time he spotted someone walking or running or biking, he would take a look at them through the rifle scope, line them up in the crosshairs.
    He felt like God. All he had to do was squeeze the trigger.
    But none of the moving shapes far below was Astrid.There was no way to miss that blond hair. No. No Astrid.
    Then, just as he was giving up, he spotted a flurry of activity down at the marina. He swiveled the scope, and suddenly Sam Temple was clear in the bright circle. For a moment the sights were on his chest. But then he was gone. He had jumped onto a boat.
    Impossible. Caine had Sam up at the school. How had he gotten away?
    Edilio and Quinn were on the boat too, pulling away. Drake could see the water churning from the motor.
    Quinn. That’s how Sam had gotten away. It had to be.
    Drake would have to have a nice talk with Quinn.
    On the dock he could make out Orc waving a bat, yelling, unable to do anything. The boat gathered speed and arced north, leaving a long white wake drawn like an arrow on the water.
    There was no question Sam would try to find Astrid. And he was heading north.
    The power plant. Had to be.
    Drake cursed and, again, for just a moment, felt the almost desperate fear of failing Caine. He wasn’t worried what Caine would do to him—after all, Caine needed him—but he knew if he failed to carry out Caine’s orders, Diana would laugh.
    Drake put down the rifle. How could he reach the power plant ahead of Sam?
    There was no way. Even if he took a boat he would be playing catch-up. A car? Maybe. But he didn’t know the way, and the trip by boat would be more direct. It would take him awhile to get down to the marina and…but, wait. Wait a minute.
    The motorboat was pulling a U-turn.
    “Aren’t you clever, Sam?” Drake whispered. “But not clever enough.”
    Through the scope he could just make out Sam’s face as he stood at the wheel, wind in his face, having escaped from Caine, having outwitted Orc, and now all cocky and sure of himself as he sped south.
    There was no way to take a shot from this distance. Drake knew that.
    He traversed the gun sight south and stopped at the barrier. Sam wouldn’t have far to go in that direction.
    The beach at the bottom of the cliffs? If she was down there, Drake could never reach her before Sam got there in the motorboat. If she was down there, the game was over.
    But if not…if she was, say, in the hotel, Clifftop? Then, he had a chance if he moved fast.
    How great would it be to shoot her right where Sam Temple could watch?

TWENTY-FOUR
    127 HOURS , 45