Caine raised his hands and stood, arms outstretched, right before the mouth of the mine.

  The ground began to rumble.

  Rock snapped and creaked.

  No! the hated voice cried in Caine’s mind.

  “I’m no one’s slave,” Caine grated.

  No! You will not!

  Caine faltered. There were knives in his brain, knives stabbing and stabbing, and the agony was beyond imagining.

  “Won’t I?” Caine said.

  Caine raised his hands high. He reached with his power into the cave and yanked his arms back.

  Tons of loose rock, wooden support beams, the shattered fuel rod, a battered old pickup truck, the body of Hermit Jim, and the writhing, cursing figure of a wounded but still living Drake Merwin, came flying out of the cave. Like the cave had vomited up its contents.

  The mass of it froze in midair. And then, as Caine formed his hands into a bowl, the suspended mass began to twirl. It swirled like a tornado.

  And then, with Drake’s cries lost in the howling madness, Caine swept his arms forward and threw the entire spinning mass down the mine shaft entrance.

  The noise was so great that Jack clapped his hands over his ears.

  Then, a slow-motion rumble and crack and a sudden, overwhelming, earthquake jolt as the mine shaft collapsed. Millions of pounds of rock closed the shaft forever.


Hunger, Chapter 43