Plague

Caine. And she was absolutely loyal to Sam.
    “What about Sam and Astrid?”
    “Oh, no, there is no Sam and Astrid, not anymore.” Taylor leaned closer and began to unload everything she knew. In ten minutes Caine had a very complete picture, far more detailed than what Quinn had grudgingly revealed.
    Sam was definitely off on a harebrained search for water. Dekka and Jack, too. Astrid had left with Little Pete.
    And Quinn had evidently not known the shocking but not unwelcome news: that Albert wasn’t dead but recovering under Lana’s care.
    “So are the two guys who tried to kill him,” Taylor said. “That’ll be trouble.”
    “What two guys?”
    “Human Crew losers: Turk and Lance. Maybe Orc, too. No one knows what happened with him except that he’s on a bender.”
    Better and better. There was no one in town right now who could fight Caine. It was incredible. It was miraculous. It was fate.
    Kings were supposedly chosen by God. Well, if there was a God in the FAYZ, it seemed like He’d made His choice.
    But it wouldn’t last. He would have to act quickly.
    “Taylor, I need you for something very important,” Caine said.
    “I don’t work for you,” Taylor said huffily.
    Caine nodded. “That’s true, Taylor. You have amazing powers. And you’re a smart girl. But no one ever seems to respect you for it. I didn’t mean to sound bossy.”
    She shrugged, mollified. “No problem.”
    “I just think you’re a very valuable, useful girl. I think you should have a place with me. I respect you.”
    “You’re just trying to get me to help you,” Taylor said.
    Caine smiled broadly. “True, true. But I can pay much better than Sam and Albert. For example, you know about the island, right? And you can bounce to any place you’ve seen, right? Any place you know?”
    She nodded, cautious. But Caine could see she was intrigued.
    “If I arranged to have you rowed out to the island, you’d be able to get back and forth anytime. Easy as pie.”
    She nodded slowly.
    “What would you say to a hot bubble bath?”
    “I’d say, ‘Hello, long time no soak.’ That’s what I’d say.”
    “All kinds of food. Peanut butter. Chicken soup. Crackers. All kinds of movies in the system there. Popcorn to go with the movie.”
    “You’re trying to bribe me.”
    “I’m promising to pay you.”
    She didn’t need to say it. He could see it in her eyes.
    “I need to know where these creatures are, these bugs. How fast they’re moving. Which way they’re coming.”
    “That’s all?”
    “That’s all,” Caine said.
    And suddenly Taylor was gone.

Chapter Thirty-Five
1 HOUR, 55 MINUTES

    SAM WATCHED HIS friends until they disappeared from view. Toto wasn’t much of a swimmer, so they’d given him a seat cushion to float on and Jack hauled him along with one hand.
    Jack wasn’t much of a swimmer, either, but you didn’t have to be elegant when you had ten times normal strength.
    Sam fired up the engine. It roared as he gunned it loudly. Drake would have to be deaf not to hear it.
    Then he threw it into gear and went tearing parallel to the shore.
    The moonlight was faint, but it was enough to reveal the sudden rush of movement by the creatures on shore. They were falling for it.
    Sam quickly lashed the wheel. He dove off the starboard side, jumping clear of the screws that blew past, churning water into foam.
    He looked again to see that the bugs were in motion. They were a silvery swarm heading away. He did not see Drake.
    Sam swam after the others. He’d stayed with the boat a bit longer than he’d planned and now he was a half mile from the dock. He had a long swim ahead of him.
    But water was Sam’s natural element. He’d surfed since he was a toddler, and powering through placid lake water was nothing compared to fighting the surf.
    The cold water felt good. Clean. He switched from freestyle to backstroke for a while, gazing up at the night sky, but powering along as fast as he could all the while. If he were back in the world, he’d be looking to join the high school swim team. His butterfly stroke was weak, but his freestyle was as good as anyone’s, and his backstroke even better.
    What would it be like to be worrying about improving his butterfly or breaststroke instead of worrying that his friend was being eaten alive from the inside?
    What was he going to do next? They trusted him, Dekka and Jack. They expected him to always have a plan. But beyond getting away from Drake and his bug