Plague

the thermometer in Little Pete’s mouth again. He coughed it out.
    “Yeah, okay,” Astrid said. “Petey, I . . . I think if you can’t stop this . . . All of this . . . Petey, it has to end. There are kids dying of this cough. And it’s all because of this place you made, this FAYZ. You changed the rules and that has consequences.”
    Little Pete did not answer.
    She had not expected he would. There was a pillow. Press it down over his face. He wouldn’t even know, probably. He wouldn’t be afraid. He wouldn’t suffer. He would cross painlessly from life to death and down would come the barrier and in would rush the police and the ambulances and food and medicine. And no one else would die.
    Mom. Dad. I’m alive. I made it. But Petey didn’t. I’m so sorry, but . . .
    Astrid jerked back. She was trembling. She could do it unless Petey himself stopped her. She could. And she would never be caught. No one would ever reproach her.
    “No,” she whispered in a shaky, uncertain voice. Then, stronger, “No.”
    It should have made her feel good. Maybe in the past it would have. Maybe she would have congratulated herself for making the high and mighty moral choice. But she knew deep down inside that her choice would condemn many to death. No police and ambulances rushing in through the open barrier. Just more of the plague, more of the monsters, more suffering and death.
    Astrid put her hands together, meaning to pray for guidance. But the words would not come.
    From the recesses of her extraordinary memory she dredged up an old, old text. A fragment from a lecture she’d attended. From one of the ancient Greeks. Aristotle? No, Epicurus.
    Is God willing to prevent evil, but not able? Then he is not omnipotent.
    Is he able, but not willing?
    Then he is malevolent.
    Is he both able and willing?
    Then whence cometh evil?
    Is he neither able nor willing?
    Then why call him God?

    There was only one god in the FAYZ. God was a sick, disturbed, unaware child on a filthy cot in an abandoned school.
    “I can’t stay, Petey,” Astrid said. “If I stay here . . . I’m sorry, Petey. I’m done.”
    Astrid shivered, rubbed her hands together for warmth— the breeze had grown downright chilly—and walked out of the room.
    Down the hall.
    Down the stairs.
    Out through the front door.
    “Done,” Astrid said, standing for a moment atop the stone steps. “Done.”
    She walked off into the falling night.

Chapter Thirty-Four
2 HOURS, 51 MINUTES

    “YOU’RE GOING? ” DIANA asked.
    “Of course,” Caine said. “We’re going. We’re even going to bring Penny. She’ll come in handy. Maybe Lana can fix her legs. And then she’ll be very useful at controlling people.”
    Caine started whistling happily as he stuffed clothing into a Dolce & Gabbana bag.
    “You should grab some clothes,” Caine said. “It might be a while before we get back here.”
    “I’m not going,” Diana said.
    Caine stopped. He smiled at her. Then his eyes went dead and she felt herself pushed by an invisible hand, shoved toward the closet.
    “I said pack,” Caine said.
    “No.”
    “Don’t make me do something we’ll both regret,” he warned. Then in a more reasonable tone, “I thought you loved me. What’s all this about?”
    “You’re a despicable person, Caine.”
    Caine laughed. “And now you’re shocked. Right.”
    “I hoped—”
    “What?” he snapped. “Hoped what, Diana? Hoped you’d keep me happy? Hoped you’d tame me?”
    “I thought maybe you were finally growing up a little,” Diana said.
    Caine made a negligent, come here gesture with his hand. Diana was propelled toward him. She tripped but did not fall. He held her immobile with powers she could not resist and kissed her.
    “I have what I wanted from you, Diana. And it’s great. I mean that. I got you to give it up willingly. I could have forced you whenever I wanted, but I didn’t, did I?”
    She did not answer.
    “But if you think,” he went on, “that you’ve gotten some kind of control over me, well, guess again. See, I’m Caine. I’m the four bar. I’m the one running things. And I’m happy to have you be a part of that. You can go on teasing me and making fun of me: I’m not sensitive. I like having one person who can stand up to me and tell me what she thinks. A good leader needs that.” He leaned so close she could feel his breath on her ear as he whispered. “Just remember: I’m Caine. And people who fight me regret it. Now pack