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“I didn’t say catch them,” Caine said. “Take a gun, Drake. Shoot them both before they see you.”
Sam charged at Caine and plowed into him before he could react. The momentum carried them both to the floor. Sam headbutted Caine in the nose. Caine was slow to recover, but Drake and Orc swarmed over Sam and kicked him off Caine.
Sam groaned in pain. “You can’t kill people, Caine. Are you crazy?”
“You hurt my nose,” Caine said.
“You’re screwed up, Caine. You need help. You’re insane.”
“Yeah,” Caine said, touching his nose and wincing at the pain. “That’s what they keep telling me. It’s what Nurse Temple…Mom…told me. Just be glad I need to keep you around, Sam. I need to see you blink out, figure out how to keep it from happening to me. Orc, take this hero away. Drake: go.”
“If you hurt them, Drake, I’ll hunt you down and kill you,” Sam shouted.
“Don’t waste your breath,” Diana said to him. “You don’t know Drake. Your girlfriend’s as good as dead.”
TWENTY-TWO
128 HOURS, 32 MINUTES
ASTRID WANTED TO scream at Drake and Diana, to denounce them, to demand to know what kind of worthless human beings used the FAYZ as an excuse for violence.
But she had to keep Little Pete calm. That was her top priority, her brother. Her blank-faced, helpless, unloving brother.
She resented him. He had turned her into a mother at age fourteen. It wasn’t right. This should be her time to shine, to be bold. This was her time to use her intellect, that supposedly great gift. Instead, she was a babysitter.
Astrid and Little Pete were shown, with mock courtesy, into a classroom. It wasn’t one of Astrid’s classes but might as well have been. Everything was achingly familiar: books open on desks, walls festooned with student artwork and projects.
“Have a seat. Read a book, if you want,” Diana said. “I know you like that kind of thing.”
Astrid hefted one of the books. “Yes, fourth-grade math. I love that kind of thing.”
“You know, I really dislike you,” Diana said.
Drake leaned against a wall and smirked.
“Of course you dislike me,” Astrid said. “I make you feel inferior.”
Diana’s eyes flashed. “I don’t feel inferior to anyone.”
“Really? Because usually a person who does bad things recognizes that there’s something a little wrong with them. You know? Even if they suppress it, they know they’re sick inside.”
“Yeah,” Diana said laconically. “I feel bad about that. My evil heart and all. Give me your hand.”
“What?”
“I promise not to infect you with my badness. Give me your hand.”
“No.”
“Drake. Make her give me her hand.”
Drake came off the wall.
Astrid stuck out her hand. Diana took it in hers and held it.
“You read people,” Astrid said. “I should have figured it out earlier. You have the power, don’t you?” She looked at Diana like she was looking at a specimen in a laboratory.
“Yep,” Diana said, releasing her. “I read people. But don’t worry, I just read power levels, not your secret little thoughts about how much you want to make out with Sam Temple.”
