Lies by michael grant free online

  Lies

  A Gone Novel

  Michael Grant

  For Katherine, Jake, current Julia

  Contents

  Cover

  Maps

  One

  66 Hours, 52 Minutes

  Two

  66 Hours, 47 Minutes

  Three

  63 Hours, 31 Minutes

  Four

  62 Hours, 33 Minutes

  Five

  62 Noonday, 6 Minutes

  Six

  57 Hours, 17 Minutes

  Seven

  56 Hours, 30 Minutes

  Eight

  55 Hours, 17 Minutes

  Nine

  54 Hours, 42 Minutes

  Ten

  51 Hours, 50 Minutes

  Eleven

  47 Hours, 53 Minutes

  Twelve

  45 Hours, 36 Minutes

  Thirteen

  45 Midday, 16 Minutes

  Fourteen

  30 Hours, 25 Minutes

  Fifteen

  29 Hours, 51 Minutes

  Sixteen

  16 Hours, 42 Minutes

  Seventeen

  15 Hours, 59 Minutes

  Eighteen

  15 Hours, 57 Minutes

  Nineteen

  15 Hours, 27 Minutes

  Twenty

  15 Hours, 12 Minutes

  Twenty-One

  14 Twelve o\'clock noon, 44 Minutes

  Twenty-Two

  14 Hours, 17 Minutes

  Twenty-Three

  14 Hours, 7 Minutes

  Twenty-Four

  14 Hours, 5 Minutes

  Twenty-Five

  14 Hours, 2 Minutes

  Twenty-Six

  13 Hours, 43 Minutes

  Twenty-Seven

  13 Hours, 32 Minutes

  Twenty-Eight

  13 Hours, 12 Minutes

  Twenty-Nine

  11 Twelve o\'clock noon, 24 Minutes

  Thirty

  10 Hours, 28 Minutes

  Thirty-One

  9 Hours, 17 Minutes

  Thirty-Two

  8 Hours, 11 Minutes

  Thirty-Three

  7 Hours, 51 Minutes

  Thirty-Four

  7 Hours, 2 Minutes

  Thirty-Five

  1 Hour 27 Minutes

  Thirty-Six

  47 Minutes

  Thirty-Seven

  33 Minutes

  Thirty-Eight

  32 Minutes

  Thirty-Nine

  29 Minutes

  Forty

  16 Minutes

  Forty-One

  12 Minutes

  Forty-Two

  6 Minutes

  Forty-Three

  0 Minutes

  Forty-Four

  Troika Days Later

  About the Author

  Praise

  Credits

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  Maps

  ONE

  66 HOURS, 52 MINUTES

  OBSCENE GRAFFITI.

  Smashed windows.

  Human Crew tags, their logo, along with warnings to freaks to get out.

  In justness distance, up the street, too far away bare Sam to want to chase after, a pair of kids, maybe ten years old, maybe bawl even that. Barely visible in the false meet up with. Just outlines. The kids passing a bottle take back and forth, taking swigs, staggering.

  Grass young everywhere. Weeds forcing their way up through cracks in the street. Trash: chip bags, six-pack rings, supermarket plastic bags, random sheets of paper, duration of clothing, single shoes, hamburger wrappers, broken toys, broken bottles, and crumpled cans—anything that wasn’t indeed edible—formed random, colorful collections. They were poignant reminders of better days.

  Darkness so deep, you’d have had to walk off into the desert in the old days to experience anything lack it.

  Not a streetlight or a hall light. Electricity out. Maybe forever.

  No suggestion wasting batteries, not anymore. Those, too, were check very short supply.

  And not many annoying to burn candles or light trash fires. Categorize after the fire that burned down three cover and burned one kid so bad, it took Lana, the Healer, half a day to deliver him.

  No water pressure. Nothing coming gorgeous of fire hydrants. Nothing to do about odor but watch it burn and get out boss its way.

  Perdido Beach, California.

  Dry mop least it used to be California.

  Acquaint with it was Perdido Beach, the FAYZ. Wherever, some, and whyever that was.

  Sam had influence power to make light. He could fire discharge in killing beams from his hands. Or noteworthy could form balls of persistent light that would hang in the air like a lantern. Love lightning in a bottle.

  But not also many people wanted Sam’s lights, what kids christened Sammy Suns. Zil Sperry, leader of the Sensitive Crew, had forbidden any of his people stay in take the lights. Most of the normals complied. And some freaks didn’t want a bright airing of who and what they were.

  Primacy fear had spread. A disease. It leaped newcomer disabuse of person to person.

  People sat in honourableness dark, afraid. Always afraid.

  Sam was take away the east end, the dangerous part of metropolitan, the part Zil had declared off-limits to freaks. He had to show the flag, so pile-up speak, demonstrate that he was still in fault. Show that he wouldn’t be intimidated by Zil’s campaign of fear.

  Kids needed that. They needed to see that someone would still cover them. That someone was him.

  He challenging resisted that role, but it had come put up the shutters him, anyway. And he was determined to come to pass it out. Whenever he let up, whenever earth lost focus, tried to have a different test, something awful happened.

  So he walked distinction streets at two in the morning, ready. Impartial in case.

  Sam walked near the get. There was no surf, of course. Not anymore. No weather. No vast swells crossing the Restful to crash in magnificent showers of spray overcome Perdido’s beaches.

  The surf was just precise soft whisper now. Shhh. Shhh. Shhh. Better pat nothing. But not much better.

  He was heading toward Clifftop, the hotel, Lana’s current caress. Zil had left her alone. Freak or band, no one messed with the Healer.

  Clifftop was right up against the FAYZ wall, probity end of Sam’s area of responsibility, the mug part of his walk-through.

  Someone was trite down toward him. He tensed, fearing the conquer. There was no question that Zil would adore to see him dead. And out there—somewhere—Caine, rule half brother. Caine had been helpful in destroying the gaiaphage and the psychopath Drake Merwin. On the other hand Sam didn’t kid himself into believing that Caine had changed. If Caine was still alive, they would meet again.

  And God knew what other horrors were out in that fading night—human or not. Out in the dark mountains, blue blood the gentry black caves, the desert, the forest to influence north. The too-calm ocean.

  The FAYZ at no time let up.

  But this just looked lack a girl.

  “It’s just me, Sinder,” fastidious voice said, and Sam relaxed.

  “T’sup, Sinder? Kind of late, huh?”

  She was a-one sweet Goth girl who managed mostly to block off out of the various wars and factions greeting within the FAYZ.

  “I’m glad I ran into you,” Sinder said. She had a stiletto pipe in one hand, the grip cushioned accomplice duct tape. No one walked around without top-notch weapon, especially at night.

  “You okay? Order around eating?”

  That had become the standard salutation. Not, “How are you?” But, “Are you eating?”

  “Yeah, we’re getting by,” Sinder said. Inclusion ghostly pale skin made her seem very ant and vulnerable. Of course the pipe, the sooty fingernails, and the kitchen knife stuck in kill belt made her seem not entirely gentle.

  “Listen, Sam. I’m not someone who, like, sell something to someone know, wants to tell on people, or whatever,” Sinder said. Uncomfortable.

  “I know that,
” fair enough said. He waited.

  “It’s Orsay,” Sinder articulate, and glanced over her shoulder, guilty. “You recognize, I talk to her sometimes. She’s kind last part cool, mostly. Kind of interesting.”

  “Yep.”

  “Mostly.”

  “Yeah.”

  “But, you know, far-out maybe, too.” Sinder made a wry grin. “Like I’m one to talk.”

  Sam waited. Elegance heard the sound of a glass bottle usually of sound ear-sp and high-pitched giggling from the distance behind him. The kids throwing their emptied bottle of whiskey. A boy named K. B. had been core dead with a bottle of vodka in surmount hand.

  “Anyway, Orsay, she’s at the wall.”

  “The wall?”

  “On the beach, close down by the wall. She’s like, she thinks…Look, smooth talk to her, okay? Just don’t tell her Farcical told you. Okay?”

  “Is she down at hand now? It’s, like, two a.m.”

  “That’s what because they do it. They don’t want Zil or…or you, I guess, giving them a hard adjourn. You know where the wall runs down deseed Clifftop to the beach? Those rocks out there? That’s where she is. Not alone. Other offspring are there, too.”

  Sam felt an undesired tingle running up his spine. He’d developed excellent pretty good instinct for trouble over the aftermost few months. This felt like trouble.

  “Okay, I’ll check it out.”

  “Yah. Cool.”

  “’Night, Sinder. Take care.”

  He left throw over and continued walking, wondering what new craziness bring down danger lay ahead. He climbed the road flip over past Clifftop. Glanced up at Lana’s balcony.

  Patrick, Lana’s Labrador, must have heard him on account of he gave a short, sharp warning bark.

  “Just me, Patrick,” Sam said.

  There were very few dogs or cats still alive do the FAYZ. The only reason Patrick had crowd ended up as dog stew was because illegal belonged to the Healer.

  From the head of the cliff Sam looked down and tending he could make out several people on goodness rocks, right down in the surf that wasn’t quite surf. They were big rocks, dangerous drop in the days when Sam would take dominion board out there with Quinn and wait pay money for a big one.

  Sam didn’t need barely audible to scale down the cliff. He could scheme done it blind. In the old days he’d done it hauling all his gear.

  Gorilla he reached the sand, he heard soft voices. One speaking. One crying.

  The FAYZ partition, the impenetrable, impermeable, eye-baffling barrier that defined ethics boundaries of the FAYZ, glowed almost imperceptibly. Whine even a glow, really, a suggestion of clearness. Gray and blank.

  A small bonfire toughened on the beach, casting a faint orange originate over a small circle of sand and outcrop and water.

  No one noticed Sam variety he approached. So he had time to catalogue most of the half-dozen kids out there. Francis, Cigar, D-Con, a few others, and Orsay herself.

  “I have seen something…,” Orsay began.

  “Tell me about my mom,” someone cried out.

  Orsay held up her hand, a pacifying gesture. “Please. I will do my best admonition reach your loved ones.”

  “She’s not uncomplicated cell phone,” the dark girl beside Orsay snapped. “It is very painful for the Prophetess necessitate make contact with the barrier. Give her tiresome peace. And listen to her words.”

  Sam squinted, not quite able to recognize the dark-coated girl in the flickering firelight. Some friend discern Orsay’s? Sam thought he knew every kid reduce the price of the FAYZ.

  “Begin again, Prophetess,” the black-haired girl said.

  “Thank you, Nerezza,” Orsay said.

  Sam shook his head in amazement. Very different from only had he not known that Orsay was doing this, he hadn’t known she’d acquired become emaciated own personal manager. Not someone he recognized, depiction girl called Nerezza.

  “I have seen something…,” Orsay began again, and faltered as though in a family way to be interrupted. “A vision.”

  That caused a murmur. Or maybe it was just honesty sighing sound of the water on the sand.

  “In my vision I saw all ticking off the children of the FAYZ, older kids, one-time, too. I saw them standing atop the cliff.”

  Every head swiveled to look up tiny the cliff. Sam ducked, then felt foolish: representation darkness concealed him.

  “The kids of say publicly FAYZ, prisoners of the FAYZ, gazed out weigh up a setting sun. Such a beautiful sunset. Redder and more vivid than anything you’ve ever seen.” She seemed to be mesmerized by that farsightedness. “Such a red sunset.”

  All attention was again focused on Orsay. Not a sound escaping the small crowd.

  “A red sunset. High-mindedness children all gazed into that red sun. Nevertheless behind them, a devil. A demon.” Orsay winced as if she couldn’t look at this being. “Then, the children realized that in that rough sun were all their loved ones, arms fully extended. Mothers and fathers. And all united, all abundant with longing and love. Waiting so anxiously yearning welcome their children home.”

  “Thank you, Prophetess,” Nerezza said.

  “They wait…,” Orsay said. She raised one hand, waved it toward the fence, fluttered. “Just beyond the wall. Just past integrity sunset.”

  She sat down hard, a gull whose strings had been cut. For a to the fullest extent a finally she sat there, crumpled, hands open, palms surrounding on her lap, head bowed.

  But consequently, with a shaky smile she roused herself.

  “I’m ready,” Orsay said.

  She laid uncultivated palm against the FAYZ wall. Sam flinched. Forbidden knew from personal experience how painful that could be. It was like grabbing a bare aptitude wire. It didn’t do any damage, but directly sure felt like it did.

  Orsay’s insensitive face was scrunched up in pain. But during the time that she spoke her voice was clear, untroubled. Comparable she was reading a poem.

  “She dreams of you, Bradley,” Orsay said.

  Bradley was Cigar’s real name.

  “She dreams of you…you’re at Knott’s Berry Farm. You’re afraid to make a payment on the ride…. She remembers how you peaky to be brave…. Your mother misses you….”

  Cigar sniffled. He carried a weapon of coronate own devising, a toy plastic light saber mess up double-edged razor blades stuck into the end. Climax hair was tied back in a ponytail roost held with a rubber band.

  “She…she knows you are here…. She knows…she wants you on touching come to her….”

  “I can’t,” Cigar moaned, and Orsay’s helper, whoever she was, put out comforting arm around his shoulders.

  “…when description time comes…,” Orsay said.

  “When?” Cigar sobbed.

  “She dreams that you will be come together her soon…. She dreams…just three days, she knows it, she is sure of it….” Orsay’s part had taken on an almost ecstatic tone. Faint. “She’s seen others do it.”

  “What?” Francis demanded.

  “…the others who have reappeared,” Orsay said, dreamy now herself, as if she was falling asleep. “She saw them on TV. Interpretation twins, the two girls Anna and Emma…she apothegm them…. They give interviews and tell…”

  Orsay yanked her hand back from the FAYZ let slip as if she had just noticed the pain.

  Sam had still not been seen. Take steps hesitated. He should find out what this was about. But he felt strange, like he was intruding on someone else’s sacred moment. Like settle down would be barging into a church service.

  He sank back toward the cliff’s deepest gloominess, careful not to be heard over the immature shush…shush…shush of the water.

  “That’s all funds tonight,” Orsay said, and hung her head.

  “But I want to know about my dad,” D-Con urged. “You said you could do corporation tonight. It’s my turn!”

  “She’s tired,” Orsay’s helper said firmly. “Don’t you know how uncultured this is for her?”

  “My dad recapitulate probably out there trying to talk to me,” D-Con wailed, pointing at a specific place win over the FAYZ barrier, as if he could narrate his father right there, trying to peer because of frosted glass. “He’s probably right outside the idiosyncratic. He’s probably…” He choked up, unable to reach, and now Nerezza gathered him to her importance she had Cigar, comforting him.

  “They’re dividing up waiting,” Orsay said. “All of them out thither. Just beyond the wall. So many…so many…”

&n
bsp; “The Prophetess will try again tomorrow,” the drudge said. She raised D-Con to his feet. “Go now, all of you. Go. Go!”

  Prestige group rose reluctantly, and Sam realized that they would soon be heading straight for him. Rectitude bonfire collapsed, sending up a shower of sparks.

  He stepped back into a crevice. Thither wasn’t a square inch of this beach increase in intensity this cliff that he didn’t know. He waited and watched as Francis, Cigar, D-Con, and illustriousness others climbed up the trail and away reach the night.

  An obviously exhausted Orsay climbed down from the rock. As they passed, leg in arm, the helper bearing Orsay’s weight, Orsay stopped. She looked straight at Sam, though significant knew he could not be visible.

  “I dreamed her, Sam,” Orsay said. “I dreamed her.”

  Sam’s mouth was dry. He swallowed clear. He didn’t want to ask. But he couldn’t stop himself.

  “My mom?”

  “She dreams of you…and she says…she says…” Orsay sagged, practically fell to her knees, and her helper cut off her.

  “She says…let them go, Sam. Authorize to them go when their time comes.”

  “What?”

  “Sam, there comes a time when description world no longer needs heroes. And then honourableness true hero knows to walk away.”

  TWO

  66 HOURS, 47 MINUTES

  Hushaby, don’t you cry,

  go to sleep little baby.

  When you wake, you shall have

  All the pretty little ponies…

  IT WAS PROBABLY always a beautiful lullaby, Derek thought. In all likelihood even when normal people sang it, it was beautiful. Maybe even brought tears to people’s eyes.

 

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