Lorien Legacies: The Lost Files (48 page)

This time I almost flip over the gangway myself as the struts supporting it give out
completely and it tips out towards the center of the room. There’s no way back into
the cell now. I’m flat against the railing, but still safe.

The floor below is teeming with Mogadorians. I look both ways down the gangway. Some
Mog soldiers are merely struggling to stay on the precarious, creaking structure,
but those with a firm grip are still coming, sliding along the railing towards me
like acrobats. Getting closer.

I could blast the gangway again to hurt the Mogs still clinging to it, but that’s
not nearly enough to get me out of here safely.

My situation is so hopeless I almost laugh.

“Adamus,” I hear. I look down to the floor, to the massed Mogadorians, weapons all
pointed at me. Among them stands Ivanick, staring up at me.

His expression is cold, mock-pitying. Nothing about his manner betrays any surprise
at seeing me here, under these circumstances.

“Long time no see,” he says.

I know I’ve only bought Sam and Malcolm a minute’s lead on the Mog scum, but I hope
it helps. I’m ready to deal with whatever comes my way next.

“You’ve got some power, Adam. It’s impressive. I’m sure Dr. Zakos or one of our other
scientists would love to study you, to learn from your ability. Give up now and maybe
we can work something out. You can be a test subject or something. I know how you
like that.” It’s strange to see Ivanick promoted to a leadership role. He doesn’t
really have the brains for it. But brains never counted for much among the Mogs.

“I mean,” he says, letting out a little laugh, “of course we’ll still have to kill
you when we’re done.”

I cling to the bars. The Mogadorians are sliding closer, just waiting for the order
to take me out.

“You suck at bargaining,” I say.

Ivan laughs. “Well, what else are you going to do? From what I can see, you’ve run
out of options. It’s surrender-or-be-killed time.”

There’s no way I’m letting myself get captured.

Go out swinging
.

I look to the wall perpendicular to the half-fallen gangway. The armory is behind
it. I get an idea.

“That’s not exactly true, Ivan.”

I reach forward with my mind: one hundred yards, two hundred yards, three hundred
yards. I stop.

There it is.

I see Ivan, staring up at me. His face has changed from mocking to suspiciously fearful.
There’s no way he can know exactly what I’m about to do, but he knows me well enough
to read my expression: I’m going to wipe us all out.

“That’s right,” I say. “The armory.”

“No way,” he says. “You wouldn’t. You’re Adamus. Son of the great General Andrakkus
Sutekh. You can’t bring yourself to kill one of us, let alone all of us.”

I grin at him.
Watch me
.

I let rip another seismic pulse, aimed at the ground right below the armory.

Only a moment after the impulse leaves my body, my blast triggers a massive explosion.

There is a deafening boom, steel and concrete flying.

All around me I see Mogadorian bodies getting riddled with shrapnel.

The whole thing begins falling apart around me. The gangway collapses and I go flying,
landing so hard on the ground that I’m almost knocked unconscious.

My ears ringing, my eyes half blinded by dust, I crane my neck to see tumbling concrete
knocking out Mogadorian after Mogadorian. The whole cave is coming down around us.

On the ground by the fallen gangway I see Ivanick, his head nearly severed from his
neck by the collapsed steel. Dead.

Mogadorians scream all around me.

To my own surprise, I
like
the sound.

Something heavy lands against my shoulder, slamming my head against the floor, pinning
me in place. I can’t move, and am too stunned to know if it was a minor wound or a
fatal blow.

Why keep track now?
I think.
There’s more where that came from
.

Indeed there is: concrete keeps falling, all around me.

As the entire structure gives out and collapses onto us, I know I only have a few
moments of consciousness left. But I’m not afraid.

I survived my fall down the ravine. I survived the implosion of Ashwood Estates. I
wasn’t even conscious then, and Malcolm said something kept us from being crushed,
that it was as if some force kept us safe as the world fell down around us.

Third time’s the charm.

It may just be exhaustion, it may just be delirium, but I’m overcome by a deep, sweet
certainty that I was meant to survive. That my ultimate purpose lies somewhere beyond
these tumbling walls, sometime beyond this frenzied moment. That the best of me is
yet to come.

I will live.

6A. Seriously? I look at the boarding pass in my hand, its large type announcing my
seat assignment, and wonder if Crayton chose this seat on purpose. It could be a coincidence.
The way things have gone recently, I am not a big believer in coincidences. I wouldn’t
be surprised if Marina sat down behind me in row seven, and Ella made her way back
to row ten. But, no, the two girls drop down beside me without saying a word, and
join me in studying each person boarding the plane. Being hunted, you are constantly
on guard. Who knows when the Mogadorians might appear?

Crayton will board last, after he’s watched to see who else gets on the plane, and
only once he feels the flight is absolutely secure.

I raise the shade and watch the ground crew hustle back and forth under the plane;
the city of Barcelona is a faint outline in the distance.

Marina’s knee bounces furiously up and down next to mine. The battle against an army
of Mogadorians yesterday at the lake, the death of her Cêpan and finding her Chest—and
now, it’s the first time in almost ten years that she’s left the town where she spent
her childhood. She’s nervous.

“Everything okay?” I ask. My newly blond hair falls into my face and startles me.
I forgot I dyed it this morning. It’s just one of many changes in the last forty-eight
hours.

“Everyone looks okay,” Marina whispers, keeping her eyes on the crowded aisle. “We’re
safe, as far as I can tell.”

“Good, but that’s not what I meant.” I gently set my foot on hers and she stops bouncing
her knee. She offers me a quick apologetic smile before returning to her close watch
of each boarding passenger. A few seconds later, her knee starts bouncing again.

I feel sorry for Marina. She was locked up in an isolated orphanage with a Cêpan who
refused to train her; she was stuck with a Cêpan who had lost sight of why we are
here on Earth in the first place. I’m doing my best to help her, to fill in the gaps.
I can train her to control her strength and when to use her developing Legacies. But
first I’m trying to show her that it’s okay to trust me. Not only did she just lose
her best friend, Héctor, back at the lake, but, like me, she lost her Cêpan right
in front of her. Both of us will carry that with us forever.

The Mogadorians will pay for what they’ve done. For taking so many who we’ve loved,
here on Earth and on Lorien. It’s my personal mission to destroy every last one of
them, and I’ll be sure Marina gets her revenge, too.

“How is it down there, Six?” Ella asks, leaning over Marina.

I turn back toward the window. The men below the plane begin to clear away their equipment,
conducting a few last-minute checks. “So far, so good.”

My seat is directly over the wing, which is comforting to me. On more than one occasion
I’ve had to use my Legacies to help a pilot out of a jam. Once, over southern Mexico,
I used my telekinesis to push the plane a dozen degrees to the right, only seconds
before crashing into the side of a mountain. Last year I got 124 passengers safely
through a vicious thunderstorm in Kansas by surrounding the plane with an impervious
cloud of cool air. We shot, unharmed, through the storm like a bullet through a balloon.

When the ground crew moves on to the next plane, I follow Ella’s gaze toward the front
of the aisle. We’re both impatient for Crayton to board. That will mean everything
is okay, at least for now. Every seat is full but the one behind Ella. Where is he?
I glance out at the wing again, scanning the area for anything out of the ordinary.

“Six?” Marina asks. I hear her buckle and unbuckle her seat belt nervously.

I lean down and shove my backpack under my seat. It’s practically empty so it folds
down easily. Crayton bought it for me at the airport. The three of us need to look
like normal teenagers, he says, like high school students on a field trip. That’s
why there’s an open biology textbook on my lap.

“Yeah?” I respond.

“You’ve flown before, right?”

Marina is only a year older than I am. But with her solemn, thoughtful eyes and her
new, sophisticated haircut that falls just below her shoulders, she can easily pass
for an adult. Right now, however, she bites her nails and pulls her knees up to her
chest like a scared child.

“Yes,” I say. “It’s not so bad. In fact, once you relax, it’s kind of awesome.”

I’ve flown dozens of times, and everything has gone fine. However, this
is
the first time I’ve done it without using my invisibility Legacy to sneak on board.
I know I’m much stronger now. And I’m getting stronger by the day. If a couple of
Mog soldiers charged at me from the front of the plane, they wouldn’t be dealing with
a meek young girl. I know what I’m capable of; I am a soldier now, a warrior. I am
someone to fear, not hunt.

Marina lets go of her knees and sits up straight, releasing a long breath. In a barely
audible voice, she says, “I’m scared. I just want to get in the air.”

“You’ll be fine,” I say in a low voice.

Finally, Crayton squeezes down the aisle, carrying a black briefcase. He’s wearing
eyeglasses and a brown suit that looks too big for him. Under his strong chin is a
blue bow tie. He’s supposed to be our teacher.

“Hello, girls,” he says, stopping next to us.

“Hi, Mr. Collins,” Ella responds.

“It’s a full flight,” Marina says. That’s code for everyone on board looks okay. To
tell him everything on the ground appears normal, I say, “I’m going to try to sleep.”

He nods and takes his seat directly behind Ella. Leaning forward between Marina and
Ella he says, “Use your time on the plane wisely, please. Study hard.”

That means, don’t let your guard down.

I’ve been in and out of consciousness for the past two days, rolling back and forth
in a hallucinating sickness. The effects from the blue force field outside the Mogadorians’
mountain have lingered far longer than Nine told me they would, both mentally and
physically. Every few minutes, my muscles seize and sear with pain.

I try to distract myself from the agony by looking around the tiny bedroom of this
decaying, abandoned house. Nine couldn’t have picked a more disgusting place for us
to hide. I can’t trust my eyes. I watch the pattern on the yellow wallpaper come to
life, the design marching over patches of mold like ants. The cracked ceiling appears
to breathe, rising and falling at frightening speeds. There’s a large jagged hole
in the wall that separates the bedroom and living room, as if someone tossed a sledgehammer
through it. Smashed beer cans are strewn around the room, and the baseboards have
been torn to shreds by animals. I’ve been hearing things rustling in the trees outside
the house, but I’m too weak to be alarmed. Last night I woke to find a cockroach on
my cheek. I barely had the energy to swat it off.

“Hey, Four?” I hear through the hole in the wall. “You awake or what? It’s time for
lunch and your food’s getting cold.”

I heave myself to my feet. My head spins as I stumble through the doorway into the
living room, and I collapse on the dingy gray carpet. I know Nine’s in here, but I
can’t keep my eyes open long enough to find him. All I want is to lay my head in Sarah’s
lap. Or in Six’s. Either one. I can’t think straight.