The Fate of Ten

  She looks thoughtful for a moment, then continues on. “Although, hmm . . . something only now occurs to me. I remember hearing of young Adamus’s technical prowess. He was something of a prodigy with machines as a young trueborn. It is odd, then, that he’s been unable to fix one of these ships, especially with all that equipment at his disposal.”

  I glance again at Adam. He’s turned now, a confused expression on his face, staring at Phiri Dun-Ra.

  “I wonder if he is stalling on purpose,” Phiri Dun-Ra muses. “Perhaps, now that Mogadorian Progress has proven inevitable, he thinks keeping you here will earn him favor with our Beloved Leader, so that he might come crawling back to his real people . . . Or perhaps he is simply too much of a coward to face the losing battles to come.”

  Adam is past me in a blur. He crouches down in front of Phiri Dun-Ra and yanks her head back. She tries to bite him, but Adam is too quick.

  “Death is coming for you, Adamus Sutekh! For all of you!” she manages to shriek, before Adam shoves a rag into her mouth. Next, he tears loose a piece of duct tape and slaps it across Phiri Dun-Ra’s face. Her breath now comes in furious and forceful bursts from her nose, the Mogadorian glaring venomously at Adam. Over on the grass in front of the Sanctuary, Marina has stood up to watch this scene play out, a small frown on her face.

  Adam stands over Phiri Dun-Ra, his teeth bared, dark lines creasing his face. It’s a murderous look, one I’ve seen on the face of many Mogadorians, usually right before they tried to kill me.

  “Adam . . . ,” I say warningly.

  Adam whips around to face me, trying to get control of himself. He takes a deep breath.

  “Everything she said is a lie, Six,” he says. “Everything.”

  “I know that,” I reply. “We should’ve gagged her sooner.”

  Adam grunts and returns to his workbench, his eyes downcast as he walks by me. Phiri Dun-Ra definitely knows how to get a rise out of him. Out of all of us, really. Well, except for Marina. I know she’s trying to drive a wedge between our group, but it isn’t going to work. How stupid does she think I am? I’ll always take the word of a Mogadorian that was allowed to walk through the Sanctuary’s force field over one that tried to blow us up with a grenade.

  With the skirmish over, Marina sits back down in the grass before the Sanctuary. I join her, watching brightly colored birds fly playful loops around the ancient temple.

  “Would you have stopped him if he tried to kill her?” Marina asks me, after a moment.

  I shrug. “She’s a Mogadorian,” I reply. “One of the shittiest ones I’ve ever met, too. And that’s saying something.”

  “In the heat of battle is one thing,” Marina says. “But when she is tied up . . . she is not like the warriors we’ve faced so many times. She’s like Adam, a trueborn. When I used my healing on him, prevented him from disintegrating, I could . . . I could feel the life there, not so different from ours. I fear what we might become as this war goes on.”

  Maybe I’m overtired, and I’m definitely beyond stressed with our current situation, but Marina’s moral-compass thing is beginning to wear thin. When I reply, there’s more harshness in my voice than I’d like.

  “So what? You’re a pacifist now? A few days ago, you stabbed out Five’s eye with an icicle,” I remind her. “He’s a lot more like us than Phiri Dun-Ra is, and they both have bad shit coming to them.”

  “Yes, I did that,” Marina replies, running her hand over the sharp tips of the grass. “I regret it. Or, actually, I regret how little regret I feel. Do you see what I mean, Six? We have to be careful not to turn into them.”

  “Five deserved it,” I reply, softening my voice a little.

  “Maybe,” Marina admits, and finally looks at me. “I wonder what will be left of us when this is over, Six. What we will be like.”

  “If there’s anything left of us,” I reply. “Big if, at this point.”

  Marina smiles sadly. She turns her gaze back to the Sanctuary. “I went inside the temple early this morning, before the sun was up,” she says. “I went back to the well, to where the Loric energy came from.”

  I study Marina. While I was sleeping, she was climbing down those twisting stairs back into the Sanctuary’s underground chamber. The stone well where the Entity erupted from, the glowing maps of the universe on the walls. I wish we’d gotten more answers from that place.

  “Find anything useful?”

  She shrugs. “It’s still there. The Entity. I can feel it, spreading out from within the Sanctuary, although I don’t know for what purpose. I can still see the glow, deep down in the well. But . . .”

  “You were hoping for some advice?”

  Marina nods, chuckling softly. “I’d hoped it might guide us. Tell us what we should do next.”

  I’m not surprised that the Entity living inside the Sanctuary, apparently the source of our power, didn’t poke its head out for another visit with Marina. When we first encountered the Entity, it seemed almost amused with us—happy to be awoken, sure, but in no rush to help us win the war against the Mogadorians. I remember something it said during our conversation; that it bestows its gifts on a species, it doesn’t judge or take sides, not even in its own defense. I think we’ve already gotten as much help from the Entity as we’re going to get. I keep this thought to myself, not wanting to discourage Marina or shake her faith, which seems to be mostly keeping her together, even if it does lead her to some morbid ethical questions that I frankly don’t feel like thinking about.

  “I’ve been sitting out here praying on our situation,” Marina continues. “I suppose it’s silly to hope for some kind of sign. I don’t know what else to do with myself, though.”

  Before I can respond, a shrill buzzing sounds from behind us. At first, I think it’s only Adam’s latest attempt to create a new conduit. The noise is too close. It’s coming from practically right on top of us. Marina’s grinning at me, her eyes wide and excited. My heart starts to beat harder as I realize what’s happening. Maybe Marina’s prayers actually worked.

  “Six? Aren’t you going to answer it?”

  The thing’s been annoyingly silent for so long, I’d forgotten what the ringer on the satellite phone sounds like. I jump up, yanking the phone out of the back of my pants. Marina stands with me, leaning her head in close to listen, and Adam jogs over to join us. I can feel Phiri Dun-Ra watching us, but I ignore her.

  “John?”

  There’s a burst of static as the satellite phone establishes a connection, a familiar voice coming through between squeals of interference.

  “Six? It’s Sam!”

  A wide smile spreads across my face. I can hear the relief in Sam’s voice that I answered.

  “Sam!” My own voice breaks a little. I hope he doesn’t hear it over our crackly connection. Actually, I don’t care. Marina grabs my arm, grinning wider. “You’re okay?” I ask Sam, the words coming out half question and half exclamation.

  “I’m okay!” he shouts.

  “And John?”

  “John, too. We’re at a military encampment in Brooklyn. They loaned us a pair of satellite phones and John’s talking to Sarah on the other one.”

  I snort and can’t help rolling my eyes a little. “Of course he is.”

  “Where are you guys? Is everyone all right?” Sam asks. “Things have gotten nuts.”

  “Everyone’s fine, but—”

  Before I can tell Sam about our predicament, he interrupts. “Did anything happen down there, Six? While you were at the Sanctuary? Like, for instance, did you push a button for Legacies or something?”

  “There weren’t any buttons,” I say, exchanging a look with Marina. “We met, I don’t know—”

  “Lorien itself,” Marina says.

  “We met an Entity,” I tell Sam. “It said some cryptic stuff, thanked us for waking it up and then, um . . .”

  “Spread out into the Earth,” Marina finishes for me.

  “Oh, hi, Marina,” Sam says
distractedly. “Listen, I think this Entity of yours might have, uh, spread out into me.”

  “What the hell does that mean, Sam?”

  “I’ve got Legacies,” Sam replies. There’s such a strong mixture of excitement and pride in his voice that it’s impossible for me not to imagine Sam puffing out his chest a bit, looking like he did right after we kissed for the first time. “Well, just telekinesis. That’s always the first one, isn’t it?”

  “You’ve got Legacies?” I exclaim, looking wide-eyed at the others. Marina’s hand tightens on my arm, and she turns to look at the Sanctuary. Meanwhile, Adam’s expression turns thoughtful as he looks down at his own hands, maybe wondering what this development says about his own Legacies.

  “And I’m not the only one,” Sam continues. “We met another girl in New York by chance who had gotten powers, too. Who knows how many new Garde are out there?”

  I shake my head, trying to digest all this information. I find myself staring at the Sanctuary too, thinking about the Entity hidden within.

  “It worked,” I say quietly. “It actually worked.”

  Marina faces me, tears in her eyes. “We’re home, Six,” she says. “We’ve brought Lorien here. We’ve changed the world.”

  It all sounds great, but I’m not ready to celebrate just yet. We’re still stranded in Mexico. The war isn’t suddenly over.

  “That Entity didn’t give you a list of new Garde, did it?” Sam asks. “Some way for us to find them?”

  “No list,” I reply. “I can’t say for sure, but judging by my conversation with the Entity, it all seems pretty random. What’s happening there?” I ask Sam, steering the conversation towards the battles we’ve been missing. “We heard about the attack on New York . . .”

  “It’s bad, Six,” Sam says, grimness creeping into his voice. “Manhattan is, like, on fire. We don’t know where Nine is; he’s still out there somewhere. Where are you guys? We could really use your help.”

  I realize that I never finished telling Sam about our current situation. “There were Mogs guarding the Sanctuary,” I tell him. “We got all of them but one. While we were inside the temple, she wrecked all the ships. We’re stuck here. You think you could get your new friends in the military to send a jet? We need to be picked up.”

  “Wait, you’re still in Mexico? At the Sanctuary?”

  I don’t like the fear in Sam’s voice. Something’s not right.

  “What’s wrong, Sam?”

  “You need to get out of there,” Sam says. “Setrákus Ra and his big-ass warship are heading right for you.”

  CHAPTER

  ELEVEN

  A FEW MINUTES AFTER AGENT WALKER TELLS ME I’ve got forty-eight hours to win a war, a pair of soldiers in full body armor and a middle-aged civilian carrying a tablet device arrive at her tent. They want to deliver some kind of urgent report related to a recording the civilian made on his tablet that morning. I’m not paying much attention—my ears are ringing, heart pounding. I can feel the new arrivals stealing looks at me, like I’m a cross between a celebrity and a unicorn. That doesn’t help my feeling that the tent walls are slowly closing in.

  I think I might be having a panic attack.

  Agent Walker takes one look at me and holds up her hand, stopping the soldiers from saying anything more. “Let’s take a walk, gentlemen,” she says. “I need the fresh air.”

  Walker ushers the three men out of her tent and follows them, pausing at the exit. She looks back at me, grimacing like she’s in pain. I know she probably wants to say something comforting or encouraging, and I also know that Agent Walker simply isn’t equipped for that.

  “Take a few minutes,” she says gently, and that’s probably the most empathy I’ve ever seen from her.

  “I’m fine,” I reply sharply, although I don’t feel fine. Not at all. I’m rooted in place and struggling to keep my breathing even.

  “Of course, I know that,” Walker says. “Just—I don’t know, you’ve had a rough twenty-four hours. Take a breath. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  As soon as Walker’s gone, I immediately collapse into the chair in front of her laptop. I shouldn’t be taking a minute. There’s too much to do. My body isn’t cooperating, though. This isn’t like the exhaustion I was pushing through yesterday—it’s something else. My hands are shaking, and I can hear my heartbeat thumping loud in my head. It reminds me of yesterday’s explosions—the screams, the dead. Running for my life, passing by the corpses of people I wasn’t good enough to save. And more of that to come.

  Unless I can do the impossible.

  I feel like I’m going to throw up.

  Needing something to focus on, something to pull me out of this funk, I turn on Walker’s laptop. I know what I’m hoping to find, what I need to hear. In addition to the video she showed me of Setrákus Ra’s threat, Walker has a few other files open on her desktop. I’m not at all surprised to see the video I’m looking for there, already open.

  FIGHT FOR EARTH—SUPPORT THE LORIC

  I turn the volume up and click play.

  “This is our planet, but we are not alone.”

  Daniela was right: Sarah does sound like she’s trying to come off as older and more professional than she actually is, like a newscaster or documentarian. It makes me smile, all the same. I close my eyes and listen to her voice. I don’t even necessarily listen to the words—although it’s definitely nice to hear your girlfriend describe you as a hero to the human race. Hearing Sarah’s voice starts to settle my nerves, but it also creates a feeling of longing that I’ve been too panicked to indulge over the last couple of days. I imagine us back in Paradise, way more innocent, hanging out in my bedroom while Henri’s out running errands . . .

  I’m not sure how many times I’ve replayed the clip before Sam enters Walker’s tent. He clears his throat to get my attention and holds up a satellite phone in each hand.

  “Mission accomplished,” Sam says. He cranes his neck to see the laptop screen. “What’re you watching?”

  “The, um, the video that Sarah made,” I reply, feeling embarrassed. Of course, Sam doesn’t know that I’ve just played the video a dozen times, that I’m listening to my girlfriend’s voice to try to attain some kind of zen state. I sit up straight and try to look like the strong leader the video portrays me as.

  “Is it awesome?” Sam asks, coming over. He sets one of the phones down next to me.

  “It’s . . .” I trail off, not sure what to say about the video. “It’s pretty corny, actually. But, right now, it’s also kind of the greatest thing ever.”

  Sam nods and pats my shoulder, understanding. “Why don’t you just call her?”

  “Sarah?”

  “Yeah. I’ll call Six and check in with Team Sanctuary,” he says, sounding eager. “Find out where they are. Maybe they’ve already made it back to Ashwood Estates. I’ll let them know what’s up with us and we’ll figure out a place to meet. I should probably call my dad, too. Let him know I’m alive.”

  I realize Sam is looking at me the same way that Walker did, like I’m suddenly fragile. I shake my head and start to stand up, but Sam puts a hand on my shoulder.

  “Seriously, dude,” he says. “Call your girlfriend. She’s got to be worried sick.”

  I let Sam push me back into the chair. “All right,” I say. “But if anything’s happened to Six and the others, or you can’t reach them—”

  “I’ll come get you right away,” Sam says as he heads towards the exit. “I’ll give you some privacy until the next crisis.”

  When Sam’s gone, I push both my hands through my hair and leave them there, squeezing my head, like I’m literally trying to keep it together. After a moment of composing myself, I reach for the phone Sam left behind and punch in the number that I’ve committed to memory.

  Sarah answers on the third ring, breathless and hopeful. “John?”

  “You have no idea how badly I needed to hear your voice,” I reply, glancing sidelong a
t Walker’s laptop screen and finally closing it. I press the phone tight to my ear, shut my eyes and imagine Sarah is sitting next to me.

  “I was so worried, John. I saw—we all saw what happened in New York.”

  I have to bite the inside of my cheek. The image of Sarah I was calling up in my mind’s eye is replaced by one of buildings crumbling under the bombardment of the Anubis.

  “It was—I don’t know what to say about it,” I tell her. “I feel lucky to have made it out.”

  I don’t mention the guilt I’ve been feeling, or how hard it has been to keep going. I don’t want Sarah to know that about me. I want to be the heroic guy from her video.

  Sarah doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. I can hear her breathing, slow and shaky, the way it gets when she’s trying to keep her emotions from bubbling out. When she finally speaks, her voice is a quiet and desperate whisper, coming from far away.

  “It was so horrible, John. All those poor people. They’re dying, the world’s basically ending, and all—all I could think about was what might have happened to you, why you weren’t calling. I don’t—I don’t have a charm on my ankle to keep track of you. I didn’t know if . . .”

  I realize that Sarah’s relief at hearing my voice is the angry kind, the kind that comes when you’ve spent sleepless nights worrying about a person. I remember how it felt when the Mogadorians had taken her, how it felt like a piece of me was missing. I also remember how much simpler things were then—avoid the Mogs, rescue Sarah, there weren’t millions of lives hanging in the balance. Crazy to think that used to seem like a crisis.

  “My sat phone got destroyed or I would’ve called sooner. We made it to Brooklyn where the army has set up. I’m fine,” I reassure her, knowing that I’m partly trying to convince myself.

  “I’ve felt like a ghost these last couple days,” Sarah says quietly. “Mark and me, we’ve been hitting the internet hard, working on projects to help, you know, win hearts and minds. And we finally met GUARD in person, which—oh my God, John, I have so much to tell you. But I need you to know first that during all this keeping busy, I’ve felt like I’m just going through the motions. Like I’m out of body. Because all I could think about was you getting blown up with those people in New York.”