I pretend that I'm convincing Jenna to come inside, but I'm eyeing Dot coming down the driveway behind them. She must have gone out the front door. Her sombrero flops on her head. She waits until she has eye contact with me and then nods. She pulls the sombrero from her head and yells, "Hey, the party's over here!"
Gatsbro and his goons startle and turn toward her voice. "Go!" I yell to Jenna as I lunge at Gatsbro. He shoots his tazegun aimlessly, and I hear something shatter, but I'm already pouncing on him, making the weapon fly from his hand. I feel hands on my shoulders, fists in my ribs, my jaw, a free-for-all. I'm not just wrestling with Gatsbro, but with his hired guns too. I feel no pain. I've become exactly what Hari feared. Nothing can stop me. Nothing can keep me from Gatsbro. I hear the truck roar off. I hear Miesha screaming, but I can only see the flash of Gatsbro's eyes, and the fear I see fuels me.
The goons have backed off for some reason, and now it is just me and Gatsbro. He's beneath me, my hands on his throat. It is like I have practiced for this moment for 260 years. His eyes bulge, and I know that with one quick snap I could end it all, but I don't want it to end that easily for him. I keep the pressure steady. I take in his gasps and fear. His hands claw at my arms, but they're no match for my strength.
"Not feeling so powerful now, are you?"
He doesn't answer.
"Are you?" I yell and I squeeze his neck tighter.
He gasps and chokes and shakes his head.
"Stop!" Miesha screams. I look up. She's holding the tazegun, aiming it at his goons and keeping them at bay. "Don't do it, Locke! He's not worth it!"
I look back down at Gatsbro. His eyes are pleading. His lips are parted, and his tongue is thick in his mouth. Spit dribbles from the corner and mixes with blood running from his nose. But it is his normally groomed hair flying in chaotic directions and his dusty torn suit that make me pause. He is not a great scientist, not a savior, not anything more than a very small man with small goals. The curtain has been pulled away and along with it any power he had over me. Snapping his neck would be easy. I have the power to do it.
He looks at me, terror glassing over his eyes.
My fingers tighten on his throat. A few seconds become decades of waiting. How far is too far--
I let go. "Get out of my life. Stay out of it. Next time I'll kill you." He nods frantically, gasping for breath. I take my knee off his chest and stand. He rolls to the side, coughing and sputtering.
I look at Miesha. Gatsbro is already an afterthought compared with Kayla. "I have to go."
I run without looking back.
"Hurry!" she calls. "Find her! I'll watch them!"
Jenna took the road. I take the forest. Kara is smart. Probably the smartest of all of us. She wants to be found, but she wants to draw the misery out. Where would she go? I stumble over rocks, crisscrossing the creek over and over again, listening for any sound of her voice, looking through thick fingers of trees for any fleeting glimpse of flesh or face. I stop, stone still, and listen for the smallest snap of a twig. Kara was here for days, watching us all. I heard her before I even knew she was here. The plaza? The forest? Where would she ...
I take off running again. I know exactly where she is. It's the perfect, most dangerous place for a picnic. I knew someone had been watching me that day. It was her.
The path through the forest seems longer than the first time I went through it. Hurry, Locke, and I force my legs to move impossibly faster, leaping over logs, rocks, and wide expanses of the twisting creek. I finally see the light where the forest ends and I stumble out into the clearing. I stare into the distance, past the tilled field, past the long upward slope, to the very top of the hill where the spider still sits but is now raised on its haunches, and there, almost hidden in the spider's shade, is a blue blanket spread over the grass and the silhouette of a figure sitting on it. Kara. My stomach squeezes to a fist. There is no sign of Kayla. Kara is so close to the edge of the hill I'm not sure if I should move, but better that I get there before Jenna.
I'm only halfway up the hill when Kara stands. She's been watching again. For me. She doesn't wave. She doesn't move. She just stands there waiting. I've run only a few more yards when I spot Jenna's truck in the distance, dust billowing out behind it as she races down the dirt road below. She and Allys have figured it out too. I run faster. I know this Kara better than they do. I have--
Never show your weakness.
The words slam into me. I have. I've shown it all along. To Kara. I worked so hard to hide it from everyone else, but she always knew. Kara, Jenna, and my guilt were my weaknesses, and that knowledge always gave her the advantage over me.
I run until I'm ten yards away, and that's when I notice Kayla, almost hidden by the tall grass, lying on the blanket, motionless. I slow to a walk. My God, Kara, what have you done?
"She's only sleeping, Locke. Like an angel, don't you think? Isn't that what Jenna calls her? Angel?"
When I'm a few yards away, Kara shifts her body to block me from Kayla. "That's close enough." Her voice is deadly clear. I stop.
I stare at Kayla, her tiny palms and fingers turned upward as if there's no life in them. The only things moving on her limp body are strands of her long black hair tossing in the breeze. I look back at Kara like I'm seeing her for the first time. "What did you do?"
"I only gave her half of what Jenna gave me. It knocks you out amazingly fast."
"She's just a child, Kara." I take a step closer. I can hear Jenna's truck rumbling up the hill.
"And what would I know about a child?" Kara's eyes are lifeless. "Jenna stole that from me." She tilts her head to the side like she's reading my face. "She stole it all. I have nothing."
There is no room for error. Everything in me pulls together to give her what I want her to see. It was always master and student with us. Now I must be the master. I have no choice. "You have me, Kara. You still have me."
"Really?" Her eyes narrow in suspicion, tracing every line of my face. She takes a step closer. "You know all of her favorite poems, Locke. Do you remember mine?"