Cindy turned in the direction of the plea. It came from nearby. A woman.
Georgia.
Sara stood up. She looked strong and sure and every bit Cindy’s hero.
“You two stay here,” Sara said.
Cindy shook her head. “Don’t.”
“I have to help her.”
“She killed Tom.”
“Plincer did something to her brain. It’s not her fault. Maybe it can be fixed.”
Cindy reached out, grabbed Sara’s arm. “You didn’t see it, Sara. She’s a monster.”
Sara’s eyes got glassy. She placed her hand on Cindy’s. “I wouldn’t give up on you. Or Tyrone. I’ve… lost… I just… I can’t give up on Georgia either.”
Cindy understood. “We’re coming with you, then.”
Sara kissed the crying Jack on the head, and nodded.
“Please help!”
They crept over the ditch, so close to each other they looked like a single six-legged creature. Georgia was lying on her back in the clearing, twenty yards away from the bone yard. Her face was a mask of bright red blood, but her chest was moving up and down. One of her hands was clenched in a fist. The other still held the cylindrical propane torch. Cindy could see the blue flame coming out of it, scorching the earth it touched black.
Cindy didn’t want to get any closer. Though Georgia looked seriously injured, she had a weapon in her hand. A terrible weapon, one she’d tried to use on her and Tyrone. If Cindy lived to a hundred and never saw another flame again, she’d be fine with that.
But they did get closer. So close that if Georgia so much as flinched Cindy would have wet her pants in fright.
“Sara!”
Tyrone pointed to the right. Cindy glanced in that direction, saw Sara turn and raise the gun and aim at two cannibals rushing at them, but then Cindy turned back to Georgia, not trusting the insane girl, feeling something wasn’t right.
There. On the ground. Small and white and plastic.
A ketchup wrapper.
Sara fired the gun, the shots so loud they made Cindy’s head ache.
Georgia sat up and her eyes popped open, boring into Cindy. She smiled, licked some ketchup off her upper lip—ketchup she’d shown Cindy last night, the stuff she was going to scare the boys with.
“Burn, bitch.”
Georgia’s lips formed the words, but Cindy’s ears were ringing so she couldn’t hear them, and then Georgia was raising her clenched fist—it was filled with that powder she had in the baggy—and Sara fired another shot, and Cindy decided she was not going to burn, not now and not ever, and she lashed out and slapped Georgia’s hand, the powder forming a cloud in the air.
Georgia’s face went from surprise to anger as the cloud settled around her. Then it went from anger to surprise as she turned her attention at the open flame she was holding.
There was a huge whump, and Cindy felt like she’d been hit with a thousand hairdryers at once as the cloud around Georgia exploded.
Cindy jumped backward, feeling her eyebrows singe, quickly patting out the tiny fire that had started on her shirt.
Georgia also tried to pat herself out, with less effective results. She was completely on fire. Her hair. Her clothes. Her shoes. Even her skin.
Sara stepped in front of Cindy, thrusting a yowling Jack into her arms, tugging her own shirt up over her head and swatting at Georgia. But that only fanned the flames, making them bigger.
Georgia may have tried to scream, but she’d apparently inhaled some of that powder, because the only thing that came out of her mouth was flames.
Cindy turned away, saw two cannibals dead on the grass—the ones that Sara had shot—and then Tyrone was holding her and patting her back and Cindy wondered if this nightmare would ever be over, if they’d ever be safe.
That’s when she saw Lester walking toward them.
Every nerve ending in Georgia’s body was firing at once. All she cared about, her entire world, was centered on when the pain would end.
She remembered, inexorably, an old saying—a star that shines twice as bright burns half as long—and hoped it was true, hoped this would be over soon.
It wasn’t.
Georgia burned bright, that was for sure. But she also burned for a very long time.
Lester Paks watched the Sara woman standing over Georgia girl. First the pet. Now his girlfriend. Lester was so angry his teeth were clenched, something he tried to avoid because their sharp points made his gums bleed. His gums were bleeding so badly his cheeks began to bulge.
The Sara woman needed to die. And the boy and the girl with the Sara woman needed to die.
And the baby?
Lester liked the baby. It would make a nice, new pet, once he chewed off its arms and legs.
Lester walked after them, barely glancing at the still burning, still twitching Georgia girl. When the three began to run, Lester ran too. Lester had long legs, and strong muscles. He would catch them.
They went into the area where the helicopter landed. The helicopter wasn’t there anymore. But the General was still there.
At least, most of him was.
The feral people were squatting around his body. The Sara woman and the children jogged past, but the boy broke away, heading for something; the metal suitcase Tope had been carrying. The boy picked it up and rejoined the two women.
The ferals paid the boy no attention. But when they saw Lester, they scattered. The ferals were scared of Lester. They had reason to be. Usually, Martin would bring Lester playmates. Sometimes boats would come to the island, and Lester could get his own playmates. But if Lester didn’t have any playmates, Lester would take a feral person. They were smelly and dirty, but they screamed as well as anyone else.
The Sara woman and the children ran north, probably not knowing why. This pleased Lester. The lake was to the north. Very close. And the shore was high up, more than thirty feet above the water. When they reached the ledge, there would be no place left to go.
Lester ran faster, closing the distance between them.
The clearing ended, and the forest began. The woods were thick here, blocking out most of the sun. Sometimes Lester lost sight of them. But they were easy to hear, clomping through the woods, breathing heavy, yelling encouraging words at each other. Lester spit out a stream of blood, and his cheeks began to fill again.
“There’s nowhere to go,” said the Sara woman. “We’re trapped.”
That made Lester smile. He had many items on his tool belt. He decided to use the mallet first. He would break all of their knees, so they couldn’t run away. Then he could take his time.
The trees thinned, and Lester saw Lake Huron, spreading out into the distance. He stopped several yards before the edge. It was a long drop down, and there were sharp rocks among the waves.
Lester looked left, and then right. He saw the girl on the ground next to a big tree, the baby in her lap. She was holding her leg and crying. The girl must have hurt herself. Lester took out the mallet, happy to make it hurt even worse.
“Lester needs a new girlfriend,” he said, raising the weapon.
But something went wrong. Lester’s head jerked back, and he stumbled sideways. He reached up and touched his face.
Six of Lester’s teeth fell into his large palm.
My teeth! My teeth! My beautiful teeth!
He looked up in time to see the boy swing the metal suitcase a second time. The boy had been hiding behind the tree. He and the girl had tricked Lester.
Lester backed up, staying out of range. He had dropped the mallet when the boy hit him, so he reached for his tool belt, seeking the hatchet. The boy swung again, but this time he let go of the suitcase. It hit Lester in the chin. More of Lester’s beautiful teeth left his mouth, arcing through the air, going over the edge of the cliff.