Plague

herself needed clothing, she was still in just a nightgown. And although there would be no food left in this place, surely there might be a few drops of water.
    Astrid called to Orc, but he didn’t hear. She heard his heavy footsteps reverberate in the eerie silence.
    Best to leave him be. In another room she found clothing that was close to her size. Close enough. It wasn’t clean, but at least it had not been worn recently. Coates had been abandoned for a while. She wondered if it belonged to Diana.
    She went in search of water. What she found was Orc. He was in the dining hall. His massive legs were propped on a heavy wooden table. He had pushed two chairs together to bear his weight and spread.
    In his hand he held a clear glass bottle full of clear liquid.
    The room smelled of charcoal and something sickly sweet. The source was obvious: in the corner, next to a window, was a contraption that could only be a still. Copper tubing probably salvaged from the chemistry lab looped from a steel washtub that rested on an iron trestle over the cold remains of a fire.
    “This is where Howard makes his whiskey,” Astrid said. “That’s how you know the place.”
    Orc took a deep swig. Some of the liquor sloshed out of his mouth. “No one ever comes here since Caine and all them took off. That’s how come Howard set up here.”
    “What does he use?”
    Orc shrugged. “Don’t matter much as long as it’s any kind of vegetable. There’s a patch of corn only a few people know about. Artichokes, too. Cabbages. It don’t matter.”
    Astrid took a chair at some distance from him.
    “You changed clothes,” he said.
    “I was cold.”
    He nodded and drank deep. His eyes were on her, looking at her in detail. She was very glad to no longer be wearing her nightgown.
    She wondered whether Orc was old enough for her to worry about in that way. She thought not. But it was a frightening possibility.
    “Should you be drinking that so fast?”
    “Gotta be fast,” Orc said. “Otherwise I pass out and can’t get enough to do the trick.”
    “What trick?” Astrid asked.
    Orc made a sad smile. “Don’t worry about it, Astrid.”
    She didn’t want to worry about it. She had enough of her own worries. So she said nothing as he gulped and gulped until forced to take a breath.
    “Orc,” she said softly. “Are you trying to kill yourself?”
    “Like I said, don’t worry ’bout it.”
    “You can’t do that,” she said. “It’s . . . it’s wrong.”
    She noticed two more bottles down on the floor, right where he could reach them without moving.
    “It’s a mortal sin,” she said, feeling like a stupid fool. The very word “sin” felt like a sin when she spoke it.
    Hypocrite, she berated herself silently. Fraud.
    “If you do this, you’ll have no chance to repent,” Astrid said. “You’ll die with a mortal sin on your conscience.”
    “Got that already,” Orc said.
    “But you’re sorry for that. You’ve thought about it. And you’re sorry for it.”
    Orc sobbed suddenly, a loud sound. He tilted his head back and she saw the last of the bottle drain into his mouth.
    “If you’ve asked for forgiveness, and if you felt truly sorry, then God has forgiven you for that little boy.”
    The bottles weren’t corked, just sealed with a piece of Saran Wrap and a rubber band. Orc pulled the plastic off a second bottle.
    “There’s no God in the FAYZ, didn’t you know that?” he said.

Chapter Thirty-Two
3 HOURS, 48 MINUTES

    SAM FIRED. THE beams of light hit the hovering bug squarely. The rays of light bounced and fragmented, steaming the water.
    “Dekka!” Sam yelled.
    She killed gravity beneath the hovering bug so that it shot suddenly upward followed by a swoosh of rising water.
    But it was no good. More of the creatures were opening their roachlike wings and flying awkwardly out toward the boat.
    Sam cursed. He threw the engine into gear and spun the wheel. The boat zoomed toward the middle of the lake.
    The bugs tried to chase, but they were insects, not eagles, and their flight was jerky and poorly controlled.
    “I can maybe crush them,” Jack said over the roar of the engines.
    “He believes he maybe can,” Toto commented.
    “But they scare me.”
    “That is true, too,” Toto said.
    “Yeah, I could have guessed that,” Sam yelled as they dodged another lumbering creature.
    They could keep dodging the bugs, maybe forever, but when Sam tapped the gas gauge it showed just an eighth of a