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He stretched out his hand and she rose through the air, almost as if she was flying to him.
They were in each other’s arms, Diana shaking, Caine strangely calm.
“Sam’s probably out there somewhere being his usual heroic self,” Caine said. “I can’t let that boy save the world all alone. I’d never live it down.”
“Don’t do this, baby, don’t do this,” Diana begged as she stroked his face.
“Listen to me. I wrote something, back on the island. Two somethings, actually. One is for you to give to Sam, if he makes it out somehow, or Astrid, or someone, you know, trustworthy. And the other is for you. If you get a chance, you know, go and get them from the desk in that room.”
“We’re not beat yet, Caine,” she pleaded. “We haven’t lost yet.”
“I was a king for a while. I wasn’t a very good one. I wanted all kinds of things. I wanted, well, you know. Power. Glory. To be feared. All that good stuff. But you know what? When the gaiaphage did it to me, when she made me cry and grovel and beg for mercy, I realized: There’s no end to this for me. There’s no end to the FAYZ. If we get out alive, there’s still no end. And what happens to me out there in the world?”
“No, you’re wrong: they can’t blame you for everything that happened.”
He laughed. “Yeah, well, actually, they can. A king, a warrior, whatever I was, I want to go out in a blaze of glory. I’ve risen as high as I’m ever going to. And if I survive, I’m just going to end up as prisoner number three-one-two-whatever. You coming to see me on visiting days.”
“But I will come see you. And I will wait for you.”
“No,” he said firmly. “I get my big finish. And you get your life. Move on, Diana.”
“You’re not fooling me,” she said. “I know why you’re doing this—”
“Because I want to win,” he said.
“Yes.”
“And because I want to write the end of my own story.”
“Yes. And because you want redemption,” she said raggedly.
He shrugged. “If that’s what you want to believe.”
“And because you love me.”
Suddenly Caine was unable to say more. He waited, trying to master his emotions. They kissed, with Diana’s tears running down his cheeks. Then, using the power he had, he pried her loose and gently deposited her in the boat, now drifting out of reach of the dock.
“Hey,” he said. “Don’t tell anyone about those last two, okay? You tell anyone who ever asks: right to the end, Caine was in charge.”
He turned away quickly, lifted the deadly cargo, and trudged toward a burning Perdido Beach.
“Not yet, Little Pete,” he whispered, touching his cheeks and feeling her tears on his fingertips. “Not just yet.”
TWENTY-NINE
42 MINUTES
GAIA BURNED AND killed the length of the access road before turning right on Sheridan Avenue. Heading for the town plaza. At the corner of Golding she paused to attack the school.
She burned it in detail, firing the deadly light through long-shattered windows. She burned until the smoke began to billow and terrified kids who had sheltered there came running out.
Some made it.
Others did not.
She turned on Alameda, still carrying Sam by his chains, dropping him when she wanted both hands free to spread destruction.
“You definitely got the most useful power, Sam,” she said. “I’m very glad you’re still alive.”
