Gone

MINUTES
    ASTRID ALMOST MISSED spotting the boat. She had gone to the window only to draw the shades. But out of the corner of her eye she saw the motorboat out there, the only thing on the water.
    For a brief moment she’d wondered if it was adults, someone coming to rescue them from the FAYZ. But no, if rescue was coming from outside the FAYZ, it wouldn’t be a single open boat.
    And, anyway, Astrid was convinced, no one was coming. Not now. Probably not ever.
    She squinted but could not tell who was on the boat. If only she had binoculars. It seemed like it might be three people. Maybe four. She couldn’t tell. But the boat was speeding closer.
    She knelt to see what was still available in the minibar refrigerator. During their last stay, she and Sam and Quinn had almost cleaned it out. All that was left to eat were some cashews.
    She would need to feed Little Pete sooner rather than later. Before whoever was on the boat got here.
    “Come on, Petey,” she said, and guided him up from the end of the bed. “Come on, we’re going to get some food. Munchy munchy?” she said, using a trigger phrase that sometimes worked. “Munchy munchy?”
    They could head for the Clifftop restaurant and probably find something there, maybe cook a chicken sandwich or something, or at least find some yogurt or whatever. Or they could play it safe and just empty out the minibars in other rooms.
    She opened the door. Looked out into the hallway. It was empty.
    “Candy bars it is,” she said, realizing she just didn’t have the nerve to go down to the restaurant.
    The room next door had a minibar but no key in the lock. She tried three more rooms before realizing that she had just been lucky that first night. The refrigerators were all locked. But, wait, maybe all the keys were interchangeable.
    “Come on, back to our room,” she said.
    “Munchy munchy,” Little Pete protested.
    “Munchy munchy,” Astrid confirmed. “Come on, Petey.”
    Out in the hallway again and then she heard the ding of an elevator. The smooth electric motors opening the door.
    Was it Sam? She froze, poised between fear and hope.
    Fear won.
    The elevator was at the end of the hall and around a bend. She had seconds.
    “Come on,” she hissed, and pushed Little Pete forward. With fumbling fingers she slid the passcard into and out of the slot. Too fast. She had to do it slower. Again. Still no green light. One more time and now she could hear the elevator door closing.
    It was him. Suddenly she knew it was Drake.
    “Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee.” It was the only prayer she could think of.
    She tried the key again. The light blinked to green.
    She turned the handle.
    He was there. At the end of the hall. Standing there with a rifle over his shoulder and a gun in his hand.
    Astrid almost collapsed.
    Drake grinned.
    He raised the handgun and took aim.
    Astrid pushed Little Pete into the room and tumbled in after him.
    Astrid slammed the door closed and threw the bolt. Then she added the security lock.
    An impossibly loud noise.
    The door had a hole in it the size of a dime, with the metal puckered out.
    Another explosion and the door handle was hanging half off.
    Little Pete could save them. He could. He had the power. But he was still calm, still oblivious.
    Useless.
    The balcony. It was the only way.
    “Petey, come on!” she rasped.
    “Munchy, munchy,” he argued.
    Drake slammed against the door, but it held. The dead bolt was still in place.
    He fired again and again, frustrated, blasting away at the dead bolt.
    He was frantic that she and Petey would teleport again.
    She had to make him believe it had happened.
    She dragged Little Pete to the balcony, slid open the door, looked down. The ground was too far. Way too far. But there was a balcony directly below them.
    Astrid climbed over the railing, scared to death, shaking, but with no alternative.
    How could she get Little Pete to follow? He was fixated on food now.
    “Game Boy,” she hissed, and pushed the toy close to his face. “Come on, Petey, come on, Game Boy.”
    She guided her brother over, placed his hand on the rail, only one hand because now he was in his game again, lost in his stupid game, too calm to use his power, too unpredictable.
    “Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus,” Astrid sobbed.
    This wasn’t going to work. She could make it, but how could she get her brother to do it?
    He was small. She could swing him.