“Ugly may be the least of our worries,” Astrid said. “You have any idea how dangerous a creature we’re talking about? It’s Sam, Caine, Dekka, Brianna . . . all rolled into one.”

Lana felt as if the ground was opening beneath her. But also like she had known it would. Like she’d been expecting it for a long time.

She had fended off the evil; she had not defeated it. She couldn’t. She knew that. It had taken all her strength to shut her mind to the Darkness. It felt almost as if the gaiaphage had infected some physical part of her brain and Lana had healed that damaged bit. But the scar tissue remained and was still sensitive to the slightest touch.

She could feel it reaching for her. It had been out there probing for a moment of weakness for a long time. The gaiaphage did not like defiance. It especially did not like successful resistance. It demanded submission.

Now it had at last brought total war to the FAYZ, and Lana couldn’t sit on the sidelines.

Could she? Could she? Please?

In a dull, lifeless voice Lana said, “Help Sanjit give these kids water.”

“I’m not here to—”

“I’m taking five, Astrid,” Lana said, glaring up at her, and Astrid nodded.

Lana’s knees cracked as she stood up, and it was a few steps before she could straighten all the way. She went out into the hallway, past the crying, scared, and traumatized kids lying under blankets on the floor, past Sanjit’s little brothers and sisters, each trying to offer comfort or prayers.

Down the stairs and out onto the long-dead lawn. Here she was shielded from the eyes of lookers, but she could see the ocean. She soaked in the air, which should have been fresh but tasted of fire.

Then she closed her eyes and turned her thoughts to the Darkness.

Hello, Darkness, my old friend. The words of an old song. Hello, Darkness.

The effort was through a space Lana could not see but could feel, manipulating limbs she didn’t have, listening for soundlessness, looking for an object she could only see by looking away.

But then: the contact. The gaiaphage felt her touch. It reacted violently, lashing out, trying to push her away. Sensing a trap.

Lana cried out in pain. No one heard her.

She wept a little—memories, mostly—then wiped the tears away.

She went back inside, felt rather than really saw Astrid’s expectant gaze.

“It’s coming. But it’s hurt. It’s trying to heal. It’s coming straight down the highway.”

“How soon?” Astrid asked.

“It can be killed, I think. It thinks so, anyway,” Lana said, in a wondering whisper. Her hand moved reflexively to the automatic pistol still stuck in her belt. “It’s afraid.”

“Edilio’s setting up an ambush.”

“No!” Lana said furiously. “Do it now. Now! Kill it now while it’s weak. If it heals that body, we’re all dead.”

Lana grabbed Astrid by both shoulders and looked her in the eye. “Listen to me. I had a chance to kill it once and it beat me. This is a second chance. There won’t be a third. Kill it. Kill it! Tell them all, whatever it takes, Astrid. Kill it!”

“There she is!” Caine said. He was in the front seat of the bus, which Sam was driving with painstaking care, weaving across the highway.

Gaia was a quarter mile away, just passing a pair of burned-out cars. She was dragging what looked a lot like a human leg. The foot wore a tattered red sneaker.

“Floor it!” Caine said.

“She’ll hear us,” Sam countered.

“Look again. She has earbuds in. We’re only about two miles from town. Now or never, surfer dude. Floor it! Floor it!”

Sam did. The engine didn’t exactly leap to respond. It accelerated at a slow, stately pace, only gradually picking up speed. Caine watched the speedometer needle.

Twenty.

Twenty-five.

Thirty.

Sam weaved madly around an overturned van, and the bus squealed on two wheels.

Thirty-five.

“She doesn’t know we’re here; hit her, hit her!”

Forty.

The distance was eaten up in a rush.

Thirty-five.

“What are you doing?” Caine demanded. He was gripping the chrome pole with white fingers.

“I don’t know!” Sam yelled. “It’s not me!”

The engine sputtered. Coughed. And suddenly they were freewheeling.

“We’re out of gas!”

The bus slowed but did not stop.

Fifteen miles an hour and a hundred feet left. Gaia was smack in the middle of the road.

The engine caught! It found a last sip of gas and the bus jolted forward, and the instant before it reached Gaia she leaped nimbly aside.

The bus seemed to be moving in slow motion now. Caine saw Gaia twist, her face older, no longer quite a little girl, her eyes mad with fear and fury.

She raised a hand, and a beam of light stabbed through the bus, not a foot away from Caine, then burned right through seats, sidewall to sidewall. Acrid smoke filled the bus.

But Gaia was off balance and tripped. Sam slammed open the door. Caine swung to hang off it, raised one hand, and threw Gaia back. The bus veered, clipped a car, slowed further still, and Caine was out, running, stumbling, fighting for balance, trying to close the distance with Gaia when a punch of invisible force knocked him down flat on his back.

Through misted eyes Caine saw Sam jump from the bus, roll, jump up, and fire with both hands at once.

The beams were nowhere near Gaia: they fired without effect over her head.