[Lorien Legacies 04.0] The Fall of Five

by Pittacus Lore

Malcolm shakes his head. “That’s not what I meant. Well done bringing this all together. You know what I saw while watching all this, John?”

  I look at Malcolm, waiting for an answer.

  “A force to be reckoned with.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  AFTER TRAINING, WHEN I EMERGE FROM THE shower, Sam is waiting for me in the hallway outside the bathroom. He’s frowning, pretty much the same look he’s had since after capture the flag, like he just single-handedly lost the war for us instead of making one mistake in a training game.

  “I really screwed up out there,” he says. “I can see why you’re not bringing me to the Everglades.”

  Once everyone was healed, the group came together to unanimously vote on flying to the Everglades tomorrow. Sam staying behind has nothing to do with his performance in the Lecture Hall; it just makes sense to have him and Malcolm in Chicago, using the tablet to coordinate if we should get separated, and monitor news feeds in case of trouble. It’s an important task, but not something I was going to try talking any of the others into doing. No one wants to stay behind on our first mission as a unified Garde.

  “You know that’s not why, Sam.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” he replies half-heartedly.

  “Come on, it was just a game. Forget about it,” I reply, punching him on the arm.

  He sighs. “I was a freaking embarrassment out there, dude. In front of Six.”

  “Ohhh,” I reply, catching on. “So, you shot the girl you like in the back. Big deal.”

  “It is a big deal,” Sam insists. “I looked like a fool that can’t protect himself. Or even worse, like someone that’ll get the people he cares about hurt.”

  I don’t know what to tell Sam. He’s never had a girlfriend before. Trying to get with Six is like deciding to take up mountain climbing and choosing Everest as your first mountain.

  “Look, I wish I had something useful to tell you, buddy. Honestly, though? Six confuses the hell out of me. If you really do like her, just be honest with her. She appreciates honesty. Or, like, directness. Bluntness.”

  “Bluntness makes me think of cavemen.”

  I pat Sam on the back. “Be direct but, you know, don’t club her or anything. You won’t survive that.”

  I’m joking, but Sam’s frown only deepens. “What chance do I even have, John? She’ll be hooking up with Nine in no time, probably. At least he can fight.”

  “Nine?!” That makes me laugh. I pat Sam on the shoulder. “Come on, man. And Six can’t stand Nine.”

  “Really?” Sam looks at me. His smile is more relaxed now, if still a little embarrassed. “Sorry to bug you with all this,” he says. “Guess I just need a confidence boost or something.”

  We’re standing in front of my door now. I put my hands on Sam’s shoulders, looking him in the eyes. “Sam, just go for it. What have you got to lose?”

  I leave Sam in the hallway to ponder his next move. I hope it works out for him. In a way, I think he and Six would work really well together, but I don’t want to spend any more time trying to play matchmaker. I’ve got more important things to worry about. Not to mention a girlfriend of my own to think about.

  Sarah is waiting in my room, drying her hair with a towel. She gives me a knowing look after I’ve closed the door behind me, her face lit up by a playful smile.

  “That was some good advice,” she says.

  I glance over my shoulder towards the hallway, wondering how much of my conversation with Sam she overhead. “You think so?”

  She nods. “Sam, all grown up. Emily would be heartbroken.”

  It takes me a moment to remember Sarah’s friend from Paradise, the one Sam had a crush on when we took that hayride together. It seems like such a long time ago. “I hope I didn’t just set Sam up to get his heart broken. You think he really has a shot with Six?”

  “Maybe,” Sarah replies, walking over to me. “Beneath that tough exterior, she’s still a girl. Sam’s cute and funny, and he obviously cares about her. What’s not to like?”

  She tosses her arms around my neck and I pull her close. “Maybe you should give him some advice on how to charm us Loric. You’re pretty good at it.”

  “Am I?” she replies, wiggling her eyebrows. She presses a lingering kiss to my lips, her fingers curling through my hair. In that moment, I totally forget about Sam and all the serious problems we’re facing. It’s amazing; I wish I could live in that kiss. Sarah slowly pulls away and looks up at me, smiling. “That’s for shooting at you.”

  “If that’s what I get, you can shoot at me anytime.”

  “So, what’s next today?” Sarah asks, ticking my usual tasks off on her fingers. “More planning? Map drawing? World saving?”

  I shake my head. “I was thinking we could get out of here.”

  Sarah and I end up walking over to the Lincoln Park Zoo. I’ve spent plenty of time on the roof of the John Hancock Center, so it’s not like I’ve been totally cooped up since we returned to Chicago. Still, it’s different to experience the city down here, with the people. Even with all the car fumes and trash smells you get in a big city, the air still seems fresher somehow. Maybe it’s just that I feel free, more alive down here than when I’m up on the roof with my troubles. With Sarah’s hand in the crook of my elbow, it’s possible to imagine we’re just a normal couple on a date.

  That’s not to say I’m not cautious. I’m wearing my bracelet underneath a light jacket, just in case it should pick up any signs of danger. We stop in front of the lion enclosure, but we can’t see anything except the golden furred butt of a lion dozing off behind a chewed-up tire.

  “That’s the bummer about zoos,” Sarah says. “The animals get so lazy and sleepy, sometimes you don’t even get to see them.”

  “That shouldn’t be a problem for us,” I tell her. I reach out with my telepathy, gently coaxing the lion to wake up. It climbs to its feet, shaking out its mane, and then saunters right towards us. He stares up at us from next to his watering hole, his black eyes blinking curiously.

  I ask it to roar and it does, a big hearty growl that makes some little kids nearby run away from the enclosure shrieking and laughing.

  “Good boy,” I whisper. Sarah squeezes my arm.

  “You’re a regular Dr. Doolittle,” she says. “If you ever need to go into hiding again, the circus would be perfect.”

  I use my animal telepathy at a few other cages. I encourage a bored-looking seal to put on an impromptu show with a beach ball. I ask the monkeys to come right up and press their hands against the glass so that Sarah can give them little high fives. It’s good practice for a Legacy that I usually only use to communicate with BK.

  The zoo starts closing around sunset. As Sarah and I wander towards the exit, she puts her head on my shoulder and sighs. I can tell there’s something on her mind.

  “I need more days like this with you,” she says.

  “I know. I want that too. Once we’ve defeated the Mogs, I promise, we’ll have all the time in the world.”

  Sarah gets a distant look on her face, almost as if she’s imagining that future and it doesn’t necessarily excite her. “What happens after, though? You go back to Lorien, right?”

  “Hopefully. We still need to find a way back. And we need to hope Malcolm is right about these Phoenix things contained in our Chests, that we have enough of them and that they’re capable of restoring our planet.”

  “And you want me to come with you?”

  “Of course,” I reply instantly. “I don’t want to go anywhere without you.”

  Sarah smiles at me with an edge of sadness that I didn’t expect. “You’re sweet, John, but I don’t mean this like our road-trip game with Six. I mean for real. Would we ever come back?” Sarah asks. “To Earth?”

  “Yeah, of course,” I say, because I know that’s what I should say in this situation, even though I’m not sure it’s actually true. I look down at my feet. “I’m sure we’d come back.”

  “Serio
usly? Years in a spaceship, John. Don’t get me wrong, part of me really wants to go. It’s not every girl that has a boyfriend asking to take her to another galaxy. But I have a family here, John. I know they’re not, like, on the level of restoring an entire planet to its former glory, but they’re pretty important to me.”

  I’m frowning now, my good mood turning into something else. It’s a sad feeling; a lost feeling. “I don’t want to take you away from your family, Sarah. Returning to Lorien, it’s supposed to be a good thing, a triumphant thing.” I hesitate, trying to find words to articulate what I’m feeling. “I’ve always thought of it as what happens at the end, you know? After all the fighting, we’d return there and find a way to start over. It’s like destiny, but it’s also never actually felt truly possible, if that makes sense. I’ve never stopped to think out the details. I guess maybe I should.”

  We stop walking and she reaches up to touch my face. “I don’t want to take you away from your destiny. Please don’t think I’m trying to do that.”

  “No, of course not. But I don’t want to go back to Lorien without you.”

  “I’m not sure I’d want to stay on Earth without you,” she replies.

  “So where does that leave us?”

  “I don’t know what the future holds,” Sarah says. “But I love you, John. For now, that’s all that matters. We’ll figure the rest out when we get there.”

  “I love you too,” I reply, pulling her close and kissing her.

  Just then my bracelet begins to tingle.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  “WHAT’S WRONG?” SARAH ASKS WHEN I SUDDENLY pull away from her.

  “My bracelet’s warning me. Something’s up,” I reply, spinning around, trying to take in everything around us at once. “Something bad.”

  “This seriously can’t keep happening,” Sarah says with disbelief, referring to last night’s BK emergency.

  “No, this is different. Worse.”

  Instinctively I touch my bracelet as it sends icicles up and down my arm. We’re on a pretty crowded street in downtown Chicago. I scan the faces around us; people walking home from work, couples heading out for dinner, humans all of them. Not a pale face with a penchant for dark clothing to be seen. Yet the bracelet has never steered me wrong in the past. There’s danger nearby.

  “We should get back home,” Sarah says. “Warn the others.”

  I shake my head. “No. If they’re following us and we don’t flush them out, we could end up leading them to the others.”

  “Crap, you’re right. So what do we do?”

  “We have to find them.” I grab Sarah’s hand and walk a few steps down the block. The pins-and-needles sensation on my wrist begins to fade, which means the danger is in the other direction. I turn back around and head that way, although I don’t see anything out of the ordinary.

  “John . . . ,” Sarah says warningly, clutching my hand in both of hers. She’s trying to hide the glow that my skin is suddenly giving off. My Lumen has triggered, both my hands lighting up, ready for a fight. I take a deep breath and calm myself, willing my hands to go back to normal. Luckily, no one around us seems to notice.

  “Over here,” I say, and lead Sarah towards the mouth of a dark back alley. The bracelet is practically screaming at me now, my entire arm numb from the pins and needles. I slide up against the wall and poke my head around the corner of the alley.

  There are three of them. Mogadorian scouts by the look of them. They’re not even making much effort to pass as human, their pale heads clean shaven but without tattoos, dressed in the dark trench coats that would spook just about anyone. Whatever they’re doing here, it’s pretty clear they aren’t expecting to be spotted. Two of them are keeping watch while the third runs his hands underneath a Dumpster. He yanks something free from beneath the metal, an envelope of some kind.

  “There’re three,” I whisper to Sarah. She’s standing next to me, her back against the wall. “They must be the vat-grown ones Malcolm was talking about. Pale and ugly, as usual.”

  “What’re they doing here?”

  “Don’t know,” I reply. “But they’re easy targets.”

  “I didn’t bring a gun on our date,” she whispers back. “I should’ve known better.”

  “It’s okay,” I tell her. “They haven’t spotted us.”

  Sarah looks down at my hands. “We can’t just let them do whatever they’re doing, can we?”

  “Hell no,” I reply, realizing that my fists have clenched. For once, I’ve got the drop on Mogadorians. I want to know what they’re up to. No more running scared. “If things go bad, you run for help.”

  “Things won’t go bad,” Sarah says firmly, and confidence flows through me. “Light those assholes up.”

  I step into the alley and walk right towards the Mogs. Their hollow eyes focus on me in unison. For a moment, that old familiar chill runs through me, that fugitive feeling. I shove it down; this time, I’m choosing fight over flight.

  “You guys lost?” I ask casually, striding closer.

  “Get outta here, kid,” one of them hisses, flashing a row of tiny teeth. The Mog next to him opens up his coat, showing me the handle of a blaster tucked into his pants. They’re trying to scare me off like I’m just some human taking a really ill-advised shortcut home. They don’t recognize me for what I am. That means whatever they’re doing here, it isn’t hunting me.

  “Getting kinda chilly,” I say, stopping about ten yards away from them. “You warm enough?”

  Without waiting for a response, I trigger my Lumen. A fireball swirls into existence over my palm and I lob it at the closest Mog. He doesn’t even have a chance to react before it envelops his face, lighting him up like a matchstick for a moment before he disintegrates to ash.

  The second Mog at least manages to reach for his blaster but that’s as far as he gets. I hit him with a fireball right in the chest. He lets loose a short scream and then joins the first Mog as dust on the dirty alley ground.

  I don’t hit the final Mog with my Lumen. He’s the one holding that envelope and I don’t want to risk torching it. I want to see what the Mogs are after, what secret mission has these Mogadorians skulking around Chicago. He stares at me, almost as if he’s waiting for me to dispatch him as easily as I did the others, the envelope clutched to his chest. When he realizes that I’m hesitating, he takes off, sprinting down the alley.

  A Mogadorian running from me. Now there’s a welcome change of pace.

  I grab the Dumpster with my telekinesis and launch it at the Mog before he can get too far. The Dumpster’s metal sides screech as they grind against the alley wall. It hits the Mog and pins him up against the wall, his bones crunching.

  “Tell me what you’re doing here and I’ll make this quick,” I say, walking over to him. To demonstrate, I put a little telekinetic pressure on the Dumpster, grinding it farther into his mangled body. A bubble of dark blood dribbles down the Mog’s chin. His scream of frustration and pain makes me hesitate. I’ve never done anything like this before. The Mogs I’ve killed have all been quick and in self-defense. I hope I’m not going too far.

  “You—you’re all going to die,” spits the Mog.

  I’m wasting my time. I’m not likely to learn anything important from some lowly scout. I shove the Dumpster one last time with my telekinesis, finishing him off. Then I pull the Dumpster away from the wall and pluck the envelope from the pile of Mogadorian ash. I turn it over in my hands—it’s stuffed with papers.

  “What is it?” Sarah asks, approaching cautiously from the mouth of the alley.

  I light up one of my hands so I can see the papers in the darkness. I’m holding three pages covered in rigid script that looks like a cross between hieroglyphics and Chinese. Written in Mogadorian, of course. I guess it’d be too lucky to catch the Mogs sending secret orders in English. I hold up the papers so that Sarah can see.

  “Know any good Mogadorian translators?” I ask.

  Back a
t the penthouse, I gather everyone in the dining room to describe my encounter with the Mogs. Nine pats me on the back when I get to the part about killing the three Mogadorians.

  “You should’ve brought that last one back here,” he says. “We could’ve tortured something out of him like they did to us.”

  I shake my head. I glance over at Sam, who has begun surreptitiously rubbing his scarred wrists. “That’s not what we do,” I say. “We’re better than that.”

  “It’s a war, Johnny,” Nine replies.

  “What does this mean?” Marina asks. “Do they know where we are?”

  “I doubt it,” I say. “If they were here for us, they’d have sent more than three. They didn’t even recognize me when I approached.”

  “Yeah, and you’re a famous Mogadorian killer,” says Eight. “Weird.”

  “They’d have come by now if they were coming,” Six adds. “They aren’t exactly known for their subtlety. We need to figure out what these papers say. It could be some kind of invasion plan.”

  “Just like my dream,” whispers Ella.

  The papers in question are being passed around the table, everyone taking a look at the meaningless symbols on the pages.

  Malcolm takes the papers, frowning. “I spent time in captivity, but I never learned their language.”

  “Pretty sure there’s some translating software on Sandor’s computer,” offers Nine. “Doubt it has Mogadorian, though.”

  Malcolm runs a hand over his beard, still looking over the papers. “There are patterns here, like with all languages. This can be cracked. If you show me that software, I may be able to use it.”

  Everyone around the table looks nervous. It’s the first whiff of the Mogadorians we’ve had since battling them in Arkansas.

  “This doesn’t change anything,” I say. “Whatever is in those documents, I’m sure it’s something the Mogadorians don’t want us to know. It’s something we can use to our advantage. But, until we know for sure, we press on with the plan we’ve already made. Get some rest, everyone; we leave for Florida in the morning.”