Fear (A Gone Novel)

Six

43 HOURS, 17 MINUTES

QUINN LEFT HIS crews to unload the catch at the dock. Normally he went straight to Albert to report the day's haul, but he had a more pressing concern today. He wanted to check on Cigar.

It was still an hour or so to sundown. He wanted to at least yell some encouragement to his friend and crewman.

The plaza was empty. The town was mostly empty—the pickers were in the fields still. Turk lounged on the steps of town hall. He was asleep with a baseball cap pulled down over his eyes and his rifle between his crossed legs.

A girl walked across the square with hurried steps. She glanced fearfully toward town hall. Quinn knew her a little, so he gave a small wave. But she glanced at him, shook her head, and scurried off.

Feeling worried now, Quinn headed into the building. He climbed the stairs to the detention room where Cigar would be.

He found the door easily enough. He listened and heard nothing from inside. "Cigar? You in there?"

The door opened, revealing Penny. She was still wearing a summer dress, and she was still barefoot. She blocked the door.

"It's not time yet," Penny said.

There was blood on her dress.

Blood on her narrow feet.

Her eyes were feverish. Lit up. Ecstatic.

Quinn took it all in at a glance. "Get out of my way," Quinn said.

Penny looked at him. Like she was trying to see something inside his head. Considering. Measuring.

Anticipating.

"What have you done, you witch?" Quinn demanded. His breath was coming short. His heart was pounding. The skin on his sunburned arms was cracking, turning deathly white and cracking like dried mud. Deep cracks.

"You're not threatening me, are you, Quinn?"

The eruption on Quinn's arm stopped, reversed itself, and his skin was back to what it should be.

"I want to see Cigar," Quinn said, swallowing his fear.

Penny nodded. "Okay. Okay, Quinn. Come on in."

Quinn pushed past her.

Cigar was in a corner. He seemed at first to be asleep. But his shirt was soaked with blood.

"Cigar, man. You okay?" Cigar did not move. Quinn knelt by him and raised his head. It took Quinn a few terrible seconds to make sense of what he was seeing.

Cigar's eyes were gone. Two black-and-red holes stared from the front of Cigar's face.

Then Cigar screamed.

Quinn jumped back.

"What have you done? What have you done?"

"I never touched him," Penny said with a happy laugh. "Look at his fingers! Look at his wrists! He did it all himself. It was funny to watch."

Quinn's fist was drawn back before he knew it. Penny's nose exploded. Her head snapped back hard and she fell on her behind.

Quinn grabbed Cigar's bloody forearm in a strong grip. Over Cigar's screams, Quinn said, "We're going to Lana."

Penny snarled and all at once Quinn's flesh caught fire. He bellowed in terror. The flames quickly burned away his clothing and ate at his flesh.

Quinn knew it wasn't real. He knew it. But he couldn't believe it. He could not refuse to feel the agony of the illusion. He could not help but smell the smoke of burning, popping flesh and—