Hunger

could never be killed.
    She was the key now. Lana knew that. The tunnel had been shut with a tremendous crash that would seal the gaiaphage in unless she gave it the key to escape.
    Only her own death could stop it.
    Her will was too weak. Her only hope was delay. The uranium, surely it would kill her. Surely it would destroy her if she did nothing to heal herself.
    But would it happen quickly enough?
    And would the gaiaphage know what was happening to her and force her to save herself? Did the creature understand that its food was her death?

    Duck stood on the hillside. He was a hundred feet or so above the mine shaft. They had made a guess, hoping that this would position him above what Caine said was a wide subterranean chamber.
    All guesswork, of course. If Duck didn’t eventually fall into an open chamber, he would have to do it again. And again.
    Quinn was all but carrying Sam, holding him up with his arms as Sam endured wave after wave of pain.
    “The morphine is wearing off,” Sam said. “Hurry.”
    Caine stood ready. Brianna had run off to fetch rope. Butwhen she returned she had fallen to her knees and vomited violently, heaving up nothing.
    “Have to do this now,” Sam said. He was panting. Holding on by his fingernails.
    “Do it, Duck,” Quinn urged.
    They were all waiting for him. Looking to him. So many lives on the line, and they were looking to him. To Duck Zhang.
    “Oh, man. It better be really good fish,” Duck said.
    And then he was falling through the ground. Falling and falling, and waving his arms as he went, tunneling through rock as if it were no thicker than pudding.
    Falling and flailing, falling and flailing. Knowing he would be able to float back up and out into the air, but not 100 percent sure. Mostly. Not totally sure. Maybe this time—
    Duck slipped suddenly as he fell through the ceiling of the mine shaft. He stopped his fall only after sinking two feet into the mine shaft’s floor.
    Duck breathed a sigh of relief. He was not in a wide, open chamber, just in a narrow mine shaft. A miracle he’d hit it.
    He wondered if there were bats in here. Well, judging by the scared looks of all the others up above, there was something much worse down here. So maybe bats wouldn’t be a bad thing. Maybe bats would be a good sign.
    “Okay!” he yelled up.
    No answer.
    “Okay! I’m down!” he shouted as loud as he could.
    A rope uncoiled and dropped.
    Caine was first. He landed gently, using his ownpower to cushion the drop.
    “Dark down here,” Caine said. He yelled up the shaft. “Okay, brother: jump.”
    Light shone blindingly bright down the shaft Duck had made. Like eerie sunlight coming through a chink in a shutter.
    Caine raised his hands and Sam dropped slowly down the shaft.
    Sam seemed to be holding a ball of brilliant light in his hands. Only not holding it, really, Duck realized when his eyes had adjusted. The light just glowed from Sam’s palms.
    “I know this place,” Caine said. “We’re just a few dozen feet from the cavern.”
    “Duck, we may need you,” Sam said.
    “But I was just going to—”
    Sam’s legs buckled, and Duck grabbed him just before he hit the ground.
    “I’ll stay,” Duck heard himself say.
    What? You’ll what? he demanded silently.
    Come on, Duck, he told himself. You can’t just run away.
    Sure, I can! Duck’s other voice protested.
    But just the same, he supported Sam’s weight as they walked deeper into the cave.
    Don’t you want to be a hero? Duck mocked himself.
    I guess I kind of do, he answered.

    “Keep the light on,” Caine said.
    Sam could keep the light burning. That he could do. Could do that. Light.
    His heart was a rusty, dying engine, hammering like it would fly apart. His body was scalded iron, hot, stiff, impossible to move.
    The pain…
    It was at him now, a roaring tiger that ripped him with every step, tore at his mind, shredded his self-control. He couldn’t live with it. Too terrible.
    “Come on, Sam,” Duck said in his ear.
    “Aahhhh!” Sam cried out.
    “So much for sneaking up on it,” Caine said.
    It knows we’re here, Sam thought. No sneaking. No tricking. It knew. Sam could feel it. Like cold fingers prodding his mind, poking, looking for an opening.
    This is hell, Sam thought. This is hell.
    Keep the light on, Sam told himself, whatever else, keep the light on.
    There was a skittering sound as Caine’s feet kicked some loose pebbles that on closer examination were identical, short,