Hunger

strong again. And with the body I will form using your power, I will escape this place.
    Your power will give me freedom.
    Lana was shaking. The gasoline smelled, and the fumes were making her woozy.
    Now or never. Now.
    Never.
    “Pack Leader!” Lana shouted. “Pack Leader! I’m going to blow this mine to hell, Pack Leader. Do you hear me?”
    “Pack Leader hears,” the coyote sneered.
    “You get yourself and your filthy animals out of here or you’ll die with the Darkness.”
    Pack Leader leaped heavily onto the hood. His fur was up, the ripped mouth slavering. “Pack Leader fears no human.”
    Lana snapped the pistol up and fired. Point-blank range.
    The sound was stunning.
    In the glass there was a hole surrounded by a star pattern, but the glass did not blow out like the rear window had.
    Blood sprayed across the glass.
    Pack Leader yelped and jumped clumsily from the hood, hit. Hurt.
    Lana’s heart jumped. She’d hit him. A solid, direct hit this time.
    But the glass was still there. It was supposed to shatter. It was her only escape route.
    Your power will give me freedom.
    “I’ll give you death!” Lana raged.
    Lana took the pistol and used it like a hammer, beating on the glass, breaking it out, but only a little at a time. She kicked at it, frantic. It gave, but too slowly.
    The coyotes could take her if they made a concerted attack.
    But the coyotes held off. The injury of their leader had left them confused and rudderless.
    Lana kicked, crazy now, panicked.
    You will die.
    “As long as you die with me!” Lana screamed.
    A big section of the safety glass gave way, folding out like a stiff-frozen blanket.
    Lana began pushing through. Head. Shoulders.
    A coyote lunged.
    She fired.
    She pushed the rest of the way out, scratched, skin ripped, oblivious to the pain. On hands and knees on the hood. She had to fumble for the rope. Rope in one hand, greasy. Gun in the other, stinking of cordite.
    She fired wildly. Once, twice, three times, bullets chipping rock. The coyotes broke and ran.
    She laid the pistol on the hood.
    She fumbled the lighter from her pocket.
    No.
    She struck the lighter.
    The flame was tiny and orange.
    You will not.
    Lana brought the flame toward the rope’s end.
    Stop.
    Lana hesitated.
    “Yes,” Lana breathed.
    You can not.
    “I can,” Lana sobbed.
    You are mine.
    The flame burned her thumb. But the pain was nothing, nothing next to the sudden, catastrophic pain like an explosion in her head.
    Lana cried out.
    She clasped her hands over her ears. The lighter singed her hair.
    She dropped the rope.
    She dropped the lighter.
    Lana had never imagined such pain. As if her brain had been scooped out and her skull filled with burning, white-hot coals.
    Lana screamed in agony and rolled off the hood.
    She screamed and screamed and knew that she would never stop.

TWENTY-NINE
    16 HOURS , 33 MINUTES
    “ WE CAN WAIT him out,” Edilio said to Sam. “Just sit tight here. You could even catch a few Zs.”
    “Do I look that bad?” Sam asked. Edilio didn’t answer.
    “Edilio’s right, boss,” Dekka said. “Let’s just sit tight and wait. Maybe Brianna will…” She couldn’t finish, and turned away quickly.
    Edilio put his arm around Sam’s shoulders and drew him away from Dekka, who was now sobbing.
    Sam gazed up at the massive pile of cement and steel that was the power plant. He scanned the parking lot, looking past the parked cars to the sea beyond. The black water twinkled here and there, faint pinpoints of starlight, a rough-textured reflection of the night sky.
    “When’s your birthday, Edilio?”
    “Cut it out, man. You know I’m not stepping out,” Edilio said.
    “You don’t even consider it?”
    Edilio’s silence was answer enough.
    “Where’s this all end, Edilio? Or does it never end? How many more of these fights? How many more graves in the plaza? You ever think about it?”
    “Sam, I dig those graves,” Edilio said quietly.
    “Yeah,” Sam said. “Sorry.” He sighed. “We’re not winning. You know that, right? I don’t mean this fight. I mean the big fight. Survival. We’re not winning that fight. We’re starving. Kids eating their pets. We’re breaking up into little groups that hate each other. It’s all going out of control.”
    Edilio glanced at Howard, who was a discreet distance away but listening in. Two of Edilio’s guys were within earshot as well.
    “You need to cut this out, Sam,” Edilio said in an urgent whisper.