I Am Number Four ll-1

by Pittacus Lore

  “If they aren’t yet, they will be soon.”

  I help her up from off the floor and she wraps her arms around me and squeezes me so tightly that I don’t think she intends to ever let go.

  “I came in here right after eighth period, and as soon as school ended, all these weird noises started coming from the halls. And it got really dark, so I locked myself in here and stayed beneath the counter, too scared to move. I just knew something was wrong, especially after I heard about you jumping through the window and you weren’t answering your phone.”

  “That was smart, but now we have to get out of here, and fast.”

  We leave the room, holding hands. The hallway lights flicker off, the whole school engulfed in darkness, even though dusk is still an hour or so away. After about ten seconds, they come back on.

  “What’s happening?” Sarah whispers.

  “I don’t know.”

  We move down the hallway as quietly as we can, and any noise we do make seems deadened, muffled. The quickest way out is the back door that opens onto the teachers’ lot, and as we head that way, the sound of the floor polisher grows. I assume that we’ll run into Hobbs. I assume he knows that I’m the one who broke the window. Will he fend me off with a broomstick and call the police? I guess at this point it doesn’t matter.

  When we reach the back hallway the lights turn off again. We stop and wait for them to come back on, but they don’t. The floor polisher continues, a steady hum. I can’t see it, but it is only twenty or so feet away in the impenetrable darkness. I find it odd that the machine keeps running, that Hobbs keeps polishing in the dark. I turn on my lights, and Sarah lets go of my hand and stands behind me with her hands on my hips. I find the plug in the wall first, then the cord, then the machine itself. It stands in one place, bumping against the wall, unmanned, running itself. Panic sweeps through me, with fear close behind. Sarah and I have to get out of the school.

  I rip the cord from the outlet and the polisher stops, replaced by the soft hum of silence. I turn my lights off. Somewhere far down the hall a door slowly creaks open. I crouch down, my back against the wall, Sarah holding tightly to my arm. Both of us are too scared to say a word. Instinct caused me to pull the cord to stop the polisher, and I have the urge to plug it back in, but I know it’ll give us away if they’re here. I close my eyes and strain to listen. The creaking door stops. A soft wind seems to materialize from nowhere. Surely there isn’t a window open. I think that maybe the wind is entering from the window I broke. Then the door slams shut and glass breaks and shatters on the floor.

  Sarah screams. Something sweeps by us but I don’t see what it is and I don’t care to find out. I pull Sarah by the hand and sprint down the hall. I shoulder the door and rush out into the parking lot. Sarah gasps and both of us stop dead in our tracks. My breath catches in my throat and chills shoot up my spine. The lights are still on but dimmed and looking ghastly in the heavy dark. Beneath the nearest light we both see it, trench coat swaying in the breeze, hat pulled low so that I can’t see its eyes. It lifts his head and grins at me.

  Sarah’s grip tightens on my hand. We both take one step backwards and trip in our rush to get away. We move the rest of the way back in a crab walk until we hit the door.

  “Come on,” I yell as I rush to my feet. Sarah stands. I try the latch but the door automatically locked behind us.

  “Shit!” I yell.

  I see another in the corner of my eye, standing still at first. I watch as it takes its first step towards me. There is another one behind it. The Mogadorians. All these years and they are finally here. I try to focus but my hands are shaking too badly to open the door. I feel them bearing down, closing in. Sarah presses close to me and I can feel her trembling.

  I can’t focus to get the door unlocked. What happened to grace under pressure, to all those days of training in the backyard? I don’t want to die, I think. I don’t want to die.

  “John,” Sarah says, and in her voice there is such fear that it causes my eyes to open wide, and twist in determination.

  The lock clicks. The door opens. Sarah and I push through and I slam it shut. There is a thud on the other side as though one of them has kicked it. We run down the hall. Noises follow. I don’t know if any of the Mogadorians are in the school. Another window breaks off to the side and Sarah screams in surprise.

  “We have to be quiet,” I say.

  We try opening classroom doors but all of them are locked. I don’t think there is enough time for me to open one of them. Somewhere a door is slammed shut and I can’t tell if it was ahead of us or behind us. Noises follow close behind, closing in, filling our ears. Sarah takes my hand and we run faster, my mind rushing ahead to remember the layout of the building so I can keep my lights off, keep from being seen. Finally a door opens and we fall headlong into it. It’s the history classroom, at the left of the school overlooking a slight hill, and because of the twenty-foot drop, there are bars over the windows. Darkness is pressing firmly against the glass and no light enters. I silently shut the door and hope they didn’t see us. I sweep my lights across the room and quickly turn them off. We’re alone and we hide beneath the teacher’s desk. I try to catch my breath. Sweat runs down the sides of my face and stings my eyes. How many of them are here? I saw at least three. Surely those aren’t the only ones out there. Did they bring the beasts with them, the small weasels that the writers in Athens were so scared of? I wish that Henri were here, or even Bernie Kosar.

  The door slowly opens. I hold my breath, listening. Sarah leans into me and we put our arms around each other. The door closes very quietly and clicks into place. No footsteps follow. Did they merely open the door and stick their heads in to see if we were inside? Did they move on without entering? They found me after all this time; surely they aren’t that lazy.

  “What are we going to do?” Sarah whispers after thirty seconds.

  “I don’t know,” I whisper back.

  The room is wrapped in silence. Whatever opened the door must have left, or is out in the hall waiting. I know, though, the longer we sit, the more of them will arrive. We need to get out of here. We’ll have to risk it. I take a deep breath.

  “We have to leave,” I whisper. “We’re not safe here.”

  “But they’re out there.”

  “I know, and they aren’t going to leave. Henri is at home, and is in just as much danger as we are.”

  “But how are we going to get out?”

  I have no idea, don’t know what to say. Only one way out and that’s the way we came in. Sarah’s arms stay around me.

  “We’re sitting ducks, Sarah. They’ll find us, and when they do, it will be with all of them. At least we’ll have the element of surprise this way. If we can get out of the school, I think I can start a car. If I can’t, we’ll have to fight our way back.”

  She nods in agreement.

  I take a deep breath and move out from underneath the desk. I reach for Sarah’s hand and she stands with me. Together we take one step, quietly as possible. Then another. It takes a full minute to cross the room and nothing meets us in the darkness. A very slight glow comes from my hands, emitting almost no light, only enough to keep from running into a desk. I stare at the door. I’ll open it and have Sarah jump on my back and I’ll run as hard and as fast as I can, lights on, down the hall, out of the school and into the lot or, failing that, into the woods. I know the woods and the way home. There are more of them, but Sarah and I will have the home-field advantage.

  As we near the door, I can feel my heart pounding so hard that I fear the Mogadorians can hear it. I close my eyes and slowly reach for the knob. Sarah tenses, gripping my hand as tightly as she can. When my hand is an inch away, so close to the knob that I can feel the cold coming off of it, we are both grabbed from behind and pulled to the ground.

  I try to scream but a hand covers my mouth. Fear rushes through me. I can feel Sarah struggling beneath the grip and I do the same thing but the grip is too
strong. I never anticipated this, the Mogadorians being stronger than I am. I’ve greatly underestimated them. There is no hope now. I’ve failed. I have failed Sarah and Henri and I’m sorry. Henri, I hope you put up a better fight than I did.

  Sarah is breathing heavily and with all my might I try to free myself but I can’t.

  “Shhh, stop struggling,” the voice whispers in my ear. A girl’s voice. “They’re out there waiting. Both of you have to be quiet.”

  It’s a girl, every bit as strong as I am, maybe even stronger. I don’t understand. Her grip loosens and I turn and face her. We take each other in. Above the glow of my hands I see a face slightly older than mine. Hazel eyes, high cheekbones, long dark hair pulled into a ponytail, a wide mouth and strong nose, olive-toned skin.

  “Who are you?” I ask.

  She looks to the door, still silent. An ally, I think. Somebody besides the Mogadorians knows we exist. Somebody is here, to help.

  “I am Number Six,” she says. “I tried to get here before they did.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  “HOW DID YOU KNOW IT WAS ME?” I ASK.

  She looks to the door. “I’ve been trying to find you ever since Three was killed. But I’ll explain it all later. First, we have to get out of here.”

  “How did you get in without them seeing you?”

  “I can make myself invisible.”

  I smile. The same Legacy my grandfather had. Invisibility. The ability to make those things he touches invisible as well, like the house on Henri’s second day of work.

  “How far do you live from here?” she asks.

  “Three miles.”

  I feel her nod through the darkness.

  “Do you have a Cêpan?” she asks.

  “Yes, of course. Don’t you?”

  Her weight shifts and she pauses before speaking, as though drawing strength from some unseen entity. “I did,” she says. “She died three years ago. I’ve been on my own since then.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say.

  “It’s a war, people are going to die. Right now we have to get out of here or we’ll die as well. If they’re in the area, then they already know where you live, which means they’re already there, so it’s pointless to try to be secretive once we’re out of here. These are only scouts. The soldiers are on the way. They have the swords. The beasts won’t be far behind. Time is short. At best we have a day. At worst they’re already here.”

  My first thought: They already know where I live. I panic. Henri is at home, with Bernie Kosar, and the soldiers and beasts may already be there. My second thought: her Cêpan, dead three years now. Six has been alone that long, alone on a foreign planet since what, the age of thirteen? Fourteen?

  “He’s at home,” I say.

  “Who?”

  “Henri, my Cêpan.”

  “I’m sure he’s fine. They won’t touch him as long as you’re free. It’s you they want, and they’ll use him to try to lure you,” Six says, then lifts her head towards the barred window. We turn and look with her. Speeding around the bend coming towards the school, very faintly so that nothing else can be seen, is a pair of headlights that slow, pass the exit, then turn into the entrance and quickly disappear. Six turns back to us. “All the doors are blocked. How else can we get out?”

  I think about it, figuring that one of the unbarred windows in a different classroom is our best bet.

  “We can get out through the gymnasium,” Sarah says. “There’s a passageway beneath the stage that opens like a cellar door in the back of the school.”

  “Really?” I ask.

  She nods, and I feel a sense of pride.

  “Each of you take a hand,” Six says. I take her right, Sarah her left. “Be as quiet as possible. As long as you hold my hands, you’ll both be invisible. They won’t be able to see us, but they’ll hear us. Once we’re outside we’ll run like hell. We’ll never be able to escape them, not since they’ve found us. The only way to escape is to kill them, every last one of them, before the others arrive.”

  “Okay,” I say.

  “Do you know what that means?” Six says.

  I shake my head. I’m not sure what she is asking me.

  “There’s no escaping them now,” she says. “It means you’re going to have to fight.”

  I mean to respond, but the shuffling I had heard earlier stops outside the door. Silence. Then the doorknob is jiggled. Number Six takes a deep breath and lets go of my hand.

  “Never mind sneaking out,” she says. “The war starts now.”

  She rushes up and thrusts her hands forward and the door breaks away from the jamb and crashes across the hallway. Splintered wood. Shattered glass.

  “Turn your lights on!” she yells.

  I snap them on. A Mogadorian stands amid the rubble of the broken door. It smiles, blood seeping from the corner of its mouth, where the door has hit it. Black eyes, pale skin as though the sun has never touched it. A cave-dwelling creature risen from the dead. It throws something that I don’t see and I hear Six grunt beside me. I look into its eyes and a pain tears through me so that I’m stuck where I am, unable to move. Darkness falls. Sadness. My body stiffens. A haze of pictures of the day of the invasion flicker through my mind: the death of women and children, my grandparents; tears, screams, blood, heaps of burning bodies. Six breaks the spell by lifting the Mogadorian in the air and hurling it against the wall. It tries standing and Six lifts it again, this time throwing it as hard as she can against one wall and then the other. The scout falls to the ground twisted and broken, its chest rising once and then becoming still. One or two seconds pass. Its entire body collapses into a pile of ash, accompanied by a sound similar to a bag of sand being dropped to the ground.

  “What the hell?” I ask, wondering how it’s possible for the body to completely disintegrate like it just did.

  “Don’t look into their eyes!” she yells, ignoring my confusion.

  I think of the writer of They Walk Among Us. I now understand what he went through when looking into their eyes. I wonder if he welcomed death when the time finally came, welcomed it just to be rid of the images that perpetually played in his mind. I can only imagine how intense they would have become had Six not broken the spell.

  Two other scouts sweep towards us from the end of the hall. A shroud of darkness surrounds them, as though they consume everything around them and turn it into black. Six stands tall in front of me, firm, chin held high. She is two inches shorter than I am, but her presence makes her seem two inches taller. Sarah stands behind me. Both Mogadorians stop where the hallway intersects with another, their teeth bared in a sneer. My body is tense, muscles burning with exhaustion. They take deep, rasping breaths, which is what we heard outside the door, their breathing, not their walking. Watching us. And then a different noise fills the hallway, and the Mogadorians both turn their attention to it. A door being shaken as though somebody is trying to force it open. From out of nowhere there comes the sound of a gun blast, followed by the school door being kicked open. They both look surprised, and as they turn to flee, two more blasts boom through the hallway and both scouts are blown backwards. We hear the approaching sound of two sets of shoes and the click of a dog’s toenails. Six tenses beside me, ready for whatever is coming our way. Henri! It was his truck’s lights we saw enter the school grounds. He has a double-barreled shotgun I have never seen before. Bernie Kosar is at his side, and he comes sprinting towards me. I crouch down and lift him off the floor. He licks wildly at my face, and I’m so excited to see him that I almost forget to tell Six who the man with the shotgun is.

  “It’s Henri,” I say. “My Cêpan.”

  Henri comes walking down, vigilant, looking at the classroom doors as he passes them, and behind him, carrying the Loric Chest in his arms, is Mark. I have no idea why Henri has brought him along. There is a crazed look in Henri’s eyes, one of exhaustion, full of fear and worry. I expect the worst after the way I left the house, some sort of scolding
, perhaps a slap across the face, but he instead switches the shotgun to his left hand and hugs me as tightly as he can. I hug him back.

  “I’m sorry, Henri. I didn’t know this would happen.”

  “I know you didn’t. I’m just happy you’re okay.” He says, “Come on, we have to get out of here. The whole damn school is surrounded.”

  Sarah leads us to the safest room she can think of, which is the home economics kitchen down the hall. We lock the door behind us. Six moves three refrigerators in front of it to keep anything from entering while Henri rushes to the windows and pulls the blinds down. Sarah walks straight into the kitchen we normally use, opens the drawer, and removes the biggest butcher’s knife she can find. Mark watches her, and when he sees what she has done, he drops the Chest to the floor and grabs a knife of his own. He rifles through other drawers and removes a meat-tenderizer hammer and tucks it into the waistband of his pants.

  “You guys okay?” Henri asks.

  “Yes,” I say.

  “Aside from the dagger in my arm, yes, I’m fine,” Six says.

  I turn my lights on dimly and look at her arm. She wasn’t kidding. Where the biceps meets the shoulder a small dagger is sticking out. That was why I heard her gasp before she killed the scout. It had thrown a knife at her. Henri reaches up and pulls it free. She grunts.

  “Thankfully it’s just a dagger,” she says, looking at me. “The soldiers will have swords that glow with different sorts of powers.”

  I mean to ask what kind of powers, but Henri interrupts.

  “Take this,” he says, and holds the shotgun out for Mark to take. He accepts it in his free hand without protest, staring in awe at everything he is witnessing around him. I wonder how much Henri has told him. I wonder why Henri brought him along in the first place. I look back at Six. Henri presses a rag to her arm and she holds it in place. He steps over and lifts the Chest and sets it on the nearest table.

  “Here, John,” he says.

  Without explanation I help him unlock it. He throws the top open, reaches in, removes a flat rock every bit as dark as the aura surrounding the Mogadorians. Six seems to know what the rock is for. She takes her shirt off. Beneath it she is wearing a black and gray rubber suit very similar to the silver and blue suit I saw my father wear in my flashbacks. She takes a deep breath, offers Henri her arm. Henri thrusts the rock against the gash, and Six, with her teeth clenched tightly, grunts and writhes in pain. Sweat beads across her forehead, her face bright red under the strain, tendons standing out on her neck. Henri holds it there for nearly a full minute. He pulls the stone away and Six bends over at the waist, taking deep breaths to compose herself. I look at her arm. Aside from a bit of blood still glistening, the cut is completely healed, no scars, nothing aside from the small tear in the suit.