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Diana half lifted Jack and propelled him forward, past the kids with the cinder-block hands.
Jack saw Caine silhouetted in the doorway, Drake rushing to move in front, good little dog that he was.
There was a boom, like the crack of a supersonic jet going overhead.
Drake fell back against Caine. The gun went flying from his hand. Caine kept his footing, but Drake clutched at his ears, on his knees, moaning.
Caine reached back over his shoulder with one hand, not even looking back. He spread his fingers, bared his palms.
The fallen portion of wall came apart, brick by brick. One by one, as though each brick had sprouted wings, they lifted off and flew.
The bricks hurtled past Caine’s head and through the open door as fast as machine gun bullets.
The door slammed shut. The bricks smashed through. Wood splintered with a sound like a jackhammmer. In seconds the door was a shattered mess.
Caine laughed, taunting whoever was on the other side of the door. “Is that you, Andrew? Is that you, thinking you can fight me?”
Caine advanced, still directing the Gatling gun flow of bricks above his head.
“You’ve got your mojo working, Andrew,” Caine yelled. “But you’re still just second best.”
Caine stepped through the decimated doorway.
Diana, ducking beneath the brick stream, her expression wild with excitement, said, “Come on, Jack. You don’t want to miss the show.”
Inside was the grand hallway that Jack knew well. Three stories high, dominated by a massive chandelier. Twin staircases led to the landing on the second floor.
The bricks had already hammered one of those staircases to splinters. The noise was like a chainsaw chewing on metal.
Andrew, a boy Jack had known as a fairly nice kid, not even really much of a bully until his powers had come, stood shell-shocked not ten feet from Caine. There was a wet stain in the crotch of his pants.
The barrage of bricks stopped as suddenly as it had begun.
Andrew made an abortive move for the second staircase.
“Don’t make me destroy that staircase, too,” Caine warned. “It would be very inconvenient.”
The fight went out of Andrew. He let
his hands drop to his sides. He looked like a kid whose mother had just caught him doing something wrong. Guilty. Scared. Looking for a way to bargain.
“Caine. I didn’t know it was you, dude. I thought we were, like, you know, being attacked by Frederico.” His voice shook. He tried to cover the telltale stain with his hands.
“Freddie? What has Frederico got to do with anything?”
“Man, Benno disappeared, right? And someone had to run things, right? Frederico tried to take over, even though Benno was more my friend than his and then—”
“I’ll handle Freddie later,” Caine interrupted. “Who do you think you are, trying to run things, Andrew?”
“What was I supposed to do, Caine?” Andrew wheedled. “Benno poofed. Frederico was all, like, I’m taking over. But me, I was standing up for you, Caine.” The idea had obviously just occurred to Andrew. “That’s all I was doing, I was standing up for you. Frederico was, like, Caine sucks, forget Caine, I’m taking over.”
Caine tuned Andrew out and aimed a furious glare at Jack. “How did we miss Benno’s birthday?”
Jack had no answer. His insides turned to water. He shrugged, helpless. Then he began to fumble for his PDA, wanting to prove that Benno’s birthday was not due yet.
Diana said, “Caine, you think maybe sometimes the school records could be wrong? Like maybe some senile school secretary wrote down a one instead of a seven or whatever? Don’t blame Jack. You know Jack is too anal to make a mistake with a number.”
Caine stared hard at Jack. Then he shrugged. “Yeah, whatever. Besides, we still have Andrew getting ready for his big jump.”
