[Lorien Legacies 06.0] The Fate of Ten

by Pittacus Lore

  When Daniela turns, something slips loose from under the broken zipper on her duffel bag. For a split second, my eyes track a hundred-dollar bill as it floats through the air and is quickly swallowed by the billowing cloud of debris. Weird what you notice when you’re running for your life.

  Wait. What exactly was she doing in that bank when the Mogs pinned her down?

  There’s no time to ask. Another explosion rocks the area, this one deafeningly close and strong enough that it knocks Sam off his feet. I drag him back up and we scramble onwards, both of us covered in the clinging, choking dust of the destroyed buildings. Even though Daniela is just a few yards ahead, she’s only visible as a silhouette.

  “In here!” she yells back to us.

  I try to shine my Lumen ahead but it doesn’t do much good in the swirling building fragments. I have no idea where Daniela’s leading us, not until the ground disappears from beneath my feet and I fall headfirst into a hole in the ground.

  “Oof!” Sam yelps as he hits the concrete floor next to me. Daniela is on her feet a few yards away. My hands and knees are scraped from the landing, but otherwise I’m unhurt. I glance over my shoulder, seeing a darkened staircase that’s rapidly filling in with debris from above.

  We’re in a subway station.

  “A little warning would’ve been good,” I snap at Daniela.

  “You said off the street,” she replies. “This is off the street.”

  “You okay?” I ask Sam, helping him up. He nods, catching his breath.

  The subway station begins to vibrate. The metal turnstiles rattle and more dust filters down from the ceiling. Even through the barrier of concrete, I hear the mighty growl of the warship’s engines. The Anubis must be right above us. Electric-blue light pours into the station from outside.

  “Go!” I yell, shoving Sam, Daniela already hopping a turnstile. “Into the tunnels!”

  The cannon unloads with a high-pitched shriek. Even shielded by layers of concrete, I tingle from the electricity, my body fizzing down to its bones. The subway station shakes and, above us, a building lets out a mournful groan as its steel girding twists and collapses. I turn and run, jumping onto the tracks after Sam and Daniela. I look over my shoulder as the ceiling starts to cave in, first sealing off the stairs we just fell down, then spreading farther into the station. It isn’t going to hold.

  “Run!” I yell again, straining to be heard over the crumbling architecture.

  Into the darkness of the subway tunnel we sprint. I fire up my Lumen so that we can see, my light glinting off the steel tracks on either side of us. I sense movement at my side and it takes a moment to realize that there’s a herd of rats running alongside us, also fleeing the collapse. Somewhere down here, a pipe must have burst, because I’m running through ankle-deep water.

  With my enhanced hearing, I listen to the stonework that surrounds us grinding and tearing. Whatever the Anubis destroyed on the street level, it caused major damage to the foundation of the city. I glance at the ceiling just in time to see a jagged crack spread through the cement, breaking off into tributaries that spread down the mold-covered walls. It’s like we’re trying to outrun the structural damage.

  We can’t win this race. The tunnel’s going to collapse.

  I’m about to yell out a warning when the tunnel gives way above Daniela. She only has time to look up and scream as a dislodged chunk of cement plummets towards her.

  I put everything into my telekinesis and shove upwards.

  It holds. I manage to stave off the cave-in centimeters from Daniela’s head. I exert so much counterforce to support the massive weight overhead that I’m pushed down to my knees. I feel the veins in my neck protruding, fresh sweat dampening my back. It’s like carrying a tremendous weight when you’re already exhausted. And meanwhile, new cracks are spiderwebbing out from the broken piece of ceiling. It’s physics—the weight has to go somewhere. And that somewhere is going to be right on top of us.

  I can’t hold this. Not for long.

  I taste blood in my mouth and realize I’m biting my lip. I can’t even yell to the others for help. If I shift even a tiny bit of focus away from my telekinesis, the weight will become too much.

  Luckily, Sam realizes what’s happening.

  “We have to hold up the ceiling!” he shouts at Daniela. “We have to help him!”

  Sam stands next to me and throws his hands up. I feel his telekinetic strength join mine and it alleviates some of the pressure. I’m able to get up from my knees.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see Daniela hesitate. The truth is, if she ran now, with Sam and me supporting the tunnel, she could probably make it to safety. We’d be screwed, but she’d make it.

  Daniela doesn’t run. She stands on the other side of me and pushes up. The cement in the ceiling groans and more cracks erupt in the tunnel walls. It’s a delicate balance—our telekinesis just forces the weight from the broken stonework to shift elsewhere. No matter what we do, eventually, this tunnel is going to collapse.

  Enough of the weight’s been taken off that I can speak again. I ignore the burning agony in my muscles, the heaviness sinking into my shoulders. Sam and Daniela are holding, waiting for my instructions.

  “Walk . . . walk backwards,” I manage to grunt. “Let it go . . . slowly.”

  Shoulder to shoulder, the three of us march slowly backwards down the tunnel. We keep the telekinetic pressure on directly above us, gradually letting go of the sections of ceiling that we’ve safely passed under. It rumbles and collapses in our wake. At one point, I see a couple of cars fall into the tunnel, quickly swallowed by more debris. The street above is collapsing, but the three of us manage to hold it at bay.

  “How long?” Sam asks through gritted teeth.

  “Don’t know,” I reply. “Keep going.”

  “Shit,” Daniela repeats over and over, her voice a hoarse whisper. I can see her arms shaking. Both she and Sam are raw, not used to telekinesis. I’ve never supported this much weight before, and I certainly didn’t come close to it on my first day with Legacies. I can feel their strength waning, beginning to slip.

  They just need to hold on a little bit longer. If they don’t, we’re dead.

  “We’re going to make it,” I growl. “Keep going!”

  I can feel the subway tunnel gradually sloping downwards under my feet. The deeper we get, the sturdier the ceiling is above us. Step by step, the telekinetic counterpressure we need to exert lessens, until finally we reach a section of tunnel where the ceiling is stable.

  “Let go,” I groan. “It’s okay, let go.”

  As one, we release our hold on the ceiling. Ten yards away, the last bit of ceiling we’d been supporting crashes into the tunnel, blocking off the way we came. Above us, the tunnel creaks and holds. All three of us collapse into the filthy water that fills the bottom of the tunnel. I feel as if an actual weight has been lifted from my shoulders. I hear a retching noise next to me and realize that Daniela’s throwing up. I try to stand up to help her, but my body doesn’t cooperate. I fall face-first into the water.

  A second later, Sam’s hands are under my arms, lifting me up. His face is pale and strained, like he doesn’t have much left to give.

  “Oh man, is he dying?” Daniela asks Sam.

  “However much ceiling we were holding, he was probably carrying four times as much,” Sam replies. “Help me with him.”

  Daniela slides underneath my other arm. She and Sam lift me up, dragging me down the tunnel.

  “He just saved my life,” Daniela says, still breathless.

  “Yeah, he does that kinda thing a lot.” Sam turns his head, speaking into my ear. “John? Can you hear me? You can shut off the lights. We can make it in the dark for a bit.”

  That’s when I realize that I’m still illuminating the tunnel with my Lumen. Running on fumes, and still I’m instinctually keeping the lights on. It takes a conscious effort on my part to let my Lumen go out, to not fight against my own
exhaustion, to allow myself to be carried.

  I let go. Trust in Sam.

  And then I can no longer feel Sam’s and Daniela’s arms around me. I can’t feel my feet dragging through the thick slop of the subway tunnels. All my aches and pains melt away until I’m peacefully floating through darkness.

  A girl’s voice interrupts my rest.

  “John . . .”

  A cold hand slips inside mine. It’s slender and girlish, fragile, but it squeezes with enough force to bring me back to my senses.

  “Open your eyes, John.”

  I do as she says and find myself stretched out on an operating table in an austere room, an array of ominous-looking surgical machinery spread out around me. Right next to my head is a machine that looks almost like a vacuum cleaner—a suction tube with scalpel-sharp teeth at its end is attached to a barrel filled with a viscous, writhing black substance. The ooze floating through the machine reminds me of the stuff I cleansed from the secretary of defense’s veins. Just looking at it makes my skin crawl. It’s inherently unnatural and Mogadorian.

  This isn’t right. Where am I? Were we captured while I was unconscious?

  I can’t feel my arms or my legs. And yet, strangely, I don’t panic. For some reason, I don’t feel like I’m in any real danger. I’ve had this kind of out-of-body experience before.

  I’m in a dream, I realize. But not my own dream. Someone else is controlling this.

  With some effort, I manage to turn my head to the left. There isn’t anything in that direction except more bizarre-looking equipment—a mixture of stainless-steel medical tools and complicated machinery like the stuff we found inside Ashwood Estates. On the far wall, though, there’s a window. A porthole, really. We’re in the air, the sky dark outside, lit only by the fires in the city below.

  I’m on board the Anubis, floating above New York City.

  Trying to take in every detail, I turn my head to the right. A team of Mogadorians dressed in lab coats and wearing sterilized gloves huddle around a metal table exactly like the one I’m laid out on. There’s a small body on the table. One of the Mogs holds the tube from another of those ooze machines, in the process of pressing it into the sternum of the young girl on the table.

  Ella.

  She doesn’t cry out when the blades on the hose pierce her chest. I’m powerless to do anything as the black Mogadorian goo is slowly pumped into her.

  I want to scream. Before I can, Ella turns her head and locks eyes with me.

  “John,” she says, her voice totally calm despite the gruesome surgery being performed on her. “Get up. We don’t have much time.”

  CHAPTER

  FIVE

  “WE CAN DO THIS, BUT FIRST YOU NEED TO understand how Phiri Dun-Ra thinks,” Adam whispers.

  “You are the expert on Mog psychology,” I reply, watching as Adam uses a broken branch to draw a square in the dirt. “Enlighten us.”

  The three of us crouch next to our lifeless Skimmer on the dirt strip the Mogs were using as a runway. It’s dark now, but the Mogs had plenty of handheld electric lanterns on hand to illuminate their round-the-clock attempts to break into the Sanctuary. I guess Phiri didn’t have the foresight to steal all the batteries, so at least we’ve got light. There are also some huge floodlights positioned around the temple’s perimeter, but we’ve left those off. No need to make spying on us any easier for her.

  The jungle around us seems louder now that the sun’s gone down, the chirping of tropical birds replaced by the shrill buzzing of billions of mosquitos. I slap the back of my neck as one of them tries to bite me.

  “There’s no doubt in my mind that she’s out there right now, watching us,” Adam says. “Every Mog warrior of her class is trained in surveillance.”

  “Yeah, we know,” I reply, glancing out into the darkness. “You guys have been stalking us all our lives, remember?”

  Adam continues, ignoring me. “She’s probably capable of going at least three days with no sleep. And she won’t remain in one place, she’ll stay mobile. There won’t be a campsite to find or anything like that. If we go in there after her, she’ll move, stay ahead of us. She’s got a lot of jungle to hide in. That said, it’ll be her instinct to stay close. She’ll want to keep tabs on us.”

  Marina frowns at Adam, watching as he draws some squiggly lines in the dirt around his square. I realize that he’s drawing Sanctuary and the surrounding jungle.

  “So we have to draw her out,” Marina says.

  “You know a good way to do that?” I ask Adam.

  “We give her something no Mog can resist,” Adam replies, and he draws an “M” in the western part of the jungle. Then, he gives Marina a pointed look. “A vulnerable Garde.”

  Immediately, I feel the air around us get a little colder. Marina leans forward, getting close to Adam, her eyes narrowed threateningly.

  “Do I seem vulnerable to you, Adam?”

  “Of course not. We just want you to appear that way.”

  “A trap,” I say, trying to mediate. “Marina, chill out.”

  Marina gives me a look, but I feel her icy aura dissipate.

  “So,” Adam continues, “first, we split up.”

  “Split up?” Marina repeats. “You’re kidding.”

  “That’s always the worst idea,” I say.

  “We can just go out there and hunt her down,” Marina says. “Six can make us invisible. She won’t have a chance.”

  “That could take all night,” Adam says. “Maybe longer.”

  “And it’s not exactly easy moving through a dark-ass jungle,” I remind Marina, thinking back to our journey through the Everglades.

  “We split up because it’s a dumb move,” Adam explains. “We make it look like we’re trying to find her, like we’re trying to cover more ground. Phiri Dun-Ra will see it as an opportunity . . .”

  Adam draws three lines moving away from the temple, fanning out into the jungle.

  “Six, you’ll go east, I’ll go south and, Marina, you’ll go west.” Adam looks at me. “When you get two hundred paces into the jungle, Six, you turn invisible. She won’t be watching you at that point.”

  “What makes you think she won’t attack me?” I ask. “I can be vulnerable.”

  Marina snorts.

  Adam shakes his head. “She’ll go after our healer first. I know it.”

  “Because it’s what you would do?” Marina asks.

  Adam meets her eyes. “Yeah.”

  Marina and I exchange a look. At least Adam’s being straight up about how he’d hunt us down. I’m glad he’s on our side.

  “I guess it makes sense,” Marina says, examining the drawings in the dirt. Suddenly, she looks back up at Adam. “Wait. You’re saying the Mogs know I’m a healer?”

  “Of course,” he replies. “Any Legacies they’ve observed in the field have become part of your dossiers. And all Mogs study those. It’s like their second-favorite leisure activity after the Great Book.”

  “Fun,” I say.

  Marina considers this. “They wouldn’t know about my night vision. It’s not something they could observe.”

  Adam looks up from his battle plan. “You have night vision?”

  Marina nods. “If you’re right and Phiri does attack me, I might actually see her coming first.”

  “Huh,” Adam replies. “Well, that’s a bonus.”

  “So what do I do after I turn invisible?” I ask.

  “You find me, we go invisible, and then we double back and follow Marina. Back her up for when Phiri Dun-Ra attacks.”

  “And if she attacks me before you guys get there?” Marina asks.

  Adam smirks. “I guess try not to kill her until you’ve gotten back the conduits.”

  “Do you think she’s going to just hand them over?” Marina asks, cocking her head at Adam.

  “Hopefully, she’s carrying them on her,” he replies.

  “And if she’s not?”

  “I . . .” Adam looks fro
m Marina to me, trying to gauge our reactions. “There are ways to make people talk. Even Mogadorians.”

  “We don’t torture,” Marina says emphatically. Even after everything she’s been through, even after losing Eight—she’s still the moral compass. She looks over at me for support. “Right, Six?”

  “We’ll figure it out,” I reply, not wanting to take a position at the moment. “First things first. Let’s get the bitch.”

  The three of us make a big show of separating, each of us carrying one of the electric lanterns into the forbidding jungle. As I duck through the thick vines and clawlike branches in the dense brush, I focus my hearing as much as possible. I’m hoping maybe I’ll stumble upon Phiri, shorten this whole plan Adam hatched, but no such luck. I’m only successful in amplifying the ceaseless sounds of the jungle. On my left, something dark and furry shrieks out a warning as I move through its territory. There’s so much movement and noise out here—Adam was right, it’d be next to impossible to track Phiri Dun-Ra.

  I push aside a branch with more force than necessary. It snaps back and slaps my shoulder. I grit my teeth and wonder if I could just call a hurricane down on this whole stupid jungle and pick up Phiri Dun-Ra.

  One Mog. We’re out here chasing one stupid Mog. This must be exactly what Phiri Dun-Ra wanted, to take us out of the game while who the hell knows what happens back in New York. A full-scale invasion could be under way. I imagine John and Nine trying to fight off hordes of Mogadorians, Sam running for his life, the entire world engulfed in flames.

  Yeah. We need to hurry this up.

  Before splitting up and heading into the jungle, we turned on the large halogen work lights around the Sanctuary’s perimeter so we’d be able to find our way back. Once I’ve gone far enough that I can barely see the lights through the trees, I turn invisible. Just in case Phiri Dun-Ra is watching me instead of Marina, I use my telekinesis to float my lantern ahead of me. I wait a few seconds to see if any shadowy forms detach from the surrounding jungle to pursue my ghostly lantern and, when none do, I hook the lantern to a low-hanging branch and leave it behind.