The Fall of Five (I Am Number Four) Read online

  I look back down in time to see Five’s arm coil back to its normal shape and return to his T-shirt. He looks at me sheepishly.

  “Sorry if I interrupted,” he says, “thought you might get pinned down.”

  “What did you just do?” I ask, both curious and a little grossed out.

  “My Cêpan called it Externa,” Five explains. He holds up the rubber ball that he’s been fondling since we showed up. “It’s one of my Legacies. I can take on the qualities of whatever I’m touching.”

  “Nice,” I reply. Maybe the new guy isn’t so useless after all.

  One of the Mogadorians manages to skirt Sarah’s blaster fire and charge us. Five steps in front of me. His skin suddenly gleams in the moonlight, shiny and silver. I remember the other ball he was carrying—a steel ball bearing. The Mog swings his sword at Five in an arc that should cleave right into his forehead, but with a resounding clang, the sword bounces off Five’s head. The Mog is stunned as Five winds up, delivering a massive haymaker, his steel-coated hand crushing the Mog’s skull.

  Five looks back at me. “Never, uh, actually tried that before.” He starts laughing, relieved.

  “Seriously?” I can’t help but laugh too, Five’s nervous energy contagious. “What if it hadn’t worked?”

  Five just shrugs, rubbing the spot on his forehead where the Mog’s sword made contact.

  We turn to watch a pair of Mogadorians fleeing towards the woods, Bernie Kosar snarling at their heels. Before they reach the tree line, Six appears in front of them. She slashes through them both with her borrowed Mogadorian sword.

  I look around. The area is clear. The Monster Mart and its surroundings are pock-marked from blaster fire, and there’s still a plume of smoke curling up from the woods. Besides the dark patches on the ground where the dead Mogadorians turned to ash, there is no sign of our attackers. We wiped them out.

  Sarah walks over to us, the Mog blaster propped up on her shoulder. “Is that it?”

  “I think so,” I say, keeping my voice level. I feel like fist-pumping and high-fiving, but want to keep it cool. “For once, I think we caught them by surprise.”

  “Is it always this easy?” Five asks.

  “No,” I tell him. “Now that we’re all together, though . . .” I trail off, not wanting to jinx it. That fight couldn’t have gone much better. Granted, it was only one ship worth of Mogadorians; they’ve got entire armies stationed in West Virginia and elsewhere, not to mention Setrákus Ra. Even so, we mowed them down in record time, and I don’t think any of us suffered an injury. Yesterday, when Nine was all gung-ho for storming West Virginia and seeking out a rematch with Setrákus Ra, I’d tried to get across that I didn’t think we were ready for that. Now, after this performance, maybe it’s time to reconsider our odds.

  “Where’s Six?” I ask, glancing around. “Someone must’ve heard that ship crash. We need to get out of here before the cops show.”

  As if in answer, a low rumble comes from the tree line, from the direction where the Mogadorian ship fell. I shine my Lumen that way just in time to see Six sprinting towards us, waving her arms.

  “Incoming!” she shouts.

  “What’s incoming?” Five asks, swallowing.

  “Sounds like Piken,” I reply.

  There’s a sharp breaking noise—the sound of a tree being uprooted and snapped. Something huge is coming this way. I put my hand on Sarah’s shoulder.

  “Get back,” I tell her. “You need to stay behind us.”

  She looks at me, her grip tight on the Mogadorian blaster. For a moment, I’m worried she’s going to argue, even though she knows fighting a Piken is way different than being in a firefight with Mogs. Shooting from behind cover is one thing. Going toe-to-toe with a monster that thinks blaster fire tickles—that’s something else entirely. Sarah touches my hand, lets her fingers linger for just a moment, and then breaks away, running for cover near the post office.

  “What the hell is that?” asks Five, still standing next to me, now pointing towards the tree line.

  We both see the monster at the same time as it bursts from the trees, bearing down on Six. But I don’t answer Five. I actually can’t answer because, whatever this thing is, I don’t have a name for it. It’s like a centipede the size of a tanker truck, its wormlike body covered in cracked and leathery skin. Hundreds of tiny gnarled arms extend from its body, churning up earth as it rumbles forward with surprising quickness. At the front is a face sort of reminiscent of a pit bull—flat, with a wet snout, and a slavering mouth that opens upon rows of jagged teeth. In the center of its face is a single unblinking eye, bloodshot and full of malice. I remember the horde of creatures the Mogs had caged in West Virginia; as nasty beasts go, this guy would be at the top of my list.

  Fast as Six is, she isn’t faster than this thing. The centipede draws even with her and then jerks sideways. Its back half—the tail—pivots upwards, the bulk of it towering over Six for a moment before crashing down.

  Six throws herself to the side just in time to avoid being crushed. Chunks of ground spray out from where the tail landed and made a huge indentation in the ground. Six is quickly back on her feet, driving her sword into the centipede’s body. It hardly seems to notice, its twisting body recoiling with enough speed to jerk the sword out of Six’s hands.

  “How are we supposed to kill that thing?” Five asks, taking a step back.

  My mind races for an answer. What advantages do we have over this one-eyed worm thing? It’s fast, but bulky and confined to the ground. . . .

  “You can fly, right?” I ask Five.

  “How’d you know that?” he asks, his eyes locked on the beast. “Yeah, I can.”

  “Pick me up,” I tell him. “We need to stay above this thing.”

  As the centipede rounds on Six again, I see Bernie Kosar leap onto its back. He’s back in panther form, digging his claws deep through the monster’s hide. With an annoyed squeal, the centipede rolls through the dirt, forcing BK to jump off or be crushed beneath its bulk. The distraction is enough for Six to create some distance between her and the beast. She turns invisible.

  “It’ll be easier if you’re on my back,” Five says, kneeling down in front of me.

  I’d feel goofy hopping on Five’s back piggyback style if it wasn’t a life-or-death situation. As soon as I’m on, Five shoots into the air. It isn’t like the shaky levitation we can all manage using our telekinesis; he’s fast, precise, in control. Five gets us about thirty feet in the air, right above the centipede. I start bombarding the creature with fireballs, tossing them down as fast I can generate them. Charred sores open up on its back, a horrible stink rising up in the air.

  “Disgusting,” mutters Five.

  The centipede roars in pain, coiling in on itself. Its huge eye sweeps frantically across the battlefield. Its tiny brain can’t really register where the pain is coming from. I keep up the assault, hoping I can kill this thing from above before it even knows what’s happening.

  My next fireball flies wide of the beast as Five dips suddenly towards the ground. Jostled, I grab onto the back of his shirt until he’s flying straight again. His shirt is soaked through with sweat.

  “You all right?” I ask, shouting to be heard over the rushing wind and the howling centipede.

  “Not easy carrying around a flamethrower,” he yells back, trying to joke, but his voice sounds strained.

  “Just another minute. Hang in there!”

  The centipede’s eye rolls back in its head and up, spotting us. It roars again, this time almost gleefully, and then its body lances upwards, all its tiny arms grasping at the air. Its hideous face shoots towards us, teeth gnashing. Five screams and we zip backwards in the air, the beast swallowing empty space where we used to be.

  The sudden change in direction throws me off Five’s back, my hand clutching a ripped piece of his T-shirt. I’m falling.

  I’m able to push against the ground enough with my telekinesis to somewhat cushio
n my landing. If not for that, I probably would’ve broken a leg hitting the ground. Still, the wind is knocked out of me. And, to make matters worse, I hit the ground right in front of the beast.

  Distantly, I can hear Six and Sarah shouting at me to run. It’s too late for that. The centipede is just forty yards away, rumbling towards me. Its mouth is wide open, a foul stench emanating from the darkness of its gullet.

  I brace myself and ignite my Lumen all over my body. If this thing wants to make a meal out of me, I’m going to make sure I burn going down. As long as I can jump past those rows of teeth, I can probably burn my way right through the thing. Getting swallowed by a Mogadorian centipede isn’t my best plan, admittedly, but in the seconds I have before it’s right on top of me, it’s the best I can come up with.

  As it gets closer, I see a red dot reflected in the centipede’s eye, like the beam from a laser pointer. Where is that coming from?

  A single gunshot explodes from somewhere behind me.

  The monster’s eye explodes. It’s just a few yards from me, and I’m splashed with foul-smelling eye goop. It shrieks and rears up, forgetting all about me. I use the opportunity to backpedal, lobbing fireballs at the creature’s underbelly as I go. The beast starts convulsing, its tail thrashing with enough force to make the ground under my feet shake. After one last, massive spasm, the centipede collapses into the dirt and begins to slowly disintegrate.

  Five lands next to me, both of his hands on top of his head. “Dude, I am so sorry I dropped you.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I reply distractedly, pushing him aside and spinning towards the Monster Mart. No one with us was packing a sniper rifle. Where did the shot come from?

  Six and Sarah rush towards a tall middle-aged man with a beard as he climbs down from the top of a beat-up old car. He’s holding a rifle with a laser scope. At first I think maybe he’s just a Good Samaritan—who wouldn’t shoot a giant worm creature if it was rampaging through their neighborhood? Then again, there’s something about him that seems really familiar.

  And then I notice someone else standing next to the car. He’s helping the older man down from his sniper’s position. When Six gets near she almost tackles him with a hug. My jaw drops and I immediately break into a run.

  It’s Sam.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  SIX HUGS ME SO HARD THAT I ALMOST FALL over. Her arms are wrapped around my neck, and my hands are splayed across her back. The back of her shirt is sweaty from the battle the Garde just fought, but I don’t mind that at all. I’m more focused on the way her blond hair brushes gently across my cheek. Those daydreams that I occupied myself with back when I was being held prisoner? A lot of them featured a scene just like this one.

  “Sam,” Six whispers, stunned, holding on to me like I might disappear, “you’re here.”

  I squeeze her tighter in response. We hold on to each other for longer than is probably appropriate with everyone else around. Next to me, I hear my dad clear his throat.

  “Hey, Six, why don’t you let someone else have a turn?”

  It’s Sarah, sidling up next to us. Six lets me go, suddenly looking sheepish. I’m not sure I can remember seeing her tough exterior crack that much. I feel a blush creeping up my own cheeks. I’m glad it’s dark out here.

  “Hi, Sam,” Sarah says, hugging me too.

  “Hey,” I reply. “Fancy meeting you here. It’s a long way from Paradise.”

  “No kidding,” Sarah replies.

  Over Sarah’s shoulder, I watch John jog over to us. He’s joined by a stocky brown-haired guy who I assume is the Number Five who posted that message online. It’s what brought Dad and me to Arkansas, his internet-scanning program having picked up the news story. We drove nonstop from Texas to make it here in time for the end of the battle.

  While Five lingers at the back of the group looking nervous to be meeting so many new people, John strides right towards me. A grin splits my face—it’s more than just being united with my best friend, it’s the feeling that we’re going to be part of something great together. We’re going to save the world.

  John grins back at me, clearly excited that I’m here, yet there’s something in his eyes that I can’t really decipher. He clasps my hand tightly.

  “Just answer me one question,” John says abruptly, not letting go of my hand. “Do you remember that day in your room, when you first thought I might be an alien?”

  “Uh, yeah?”

  “What did you do?”

  I squint at John, not really sure why he’s asking me this. I glance back at my dad, who is watching this exchange curiously, waiting for me to introduce him to the Loric. “Um, I pulled a gun on you. Is that what you mean?”

  “Oh, Samuel,” my dad mutters reproachfully, but John grins at my response. Immediately, he pulls me into a hug.

  “Sorry about that, Sam. I just had to make sure you weren’t Setrákus Ra in disguise,” John explains. “You have no idea how good it is to see you.”

  “Same here,” I reply. “I’ve really missed having to fight giant worm creatures.”

  John chuckles, taking a step back from me.

  Five tentatively raises his hand, stepping forward. “I’m lost. Setrákus Ra can shape shift?”

  That’s news to me too. I find myself subconsciously touching the burns on my wrists. I know firsthand the kind of evil Setrákus Ra is capable of. “How do you know that? Did you go up against him?”

  John nods solemnly, glancing in Five’s direction. “Yeah. I’d call it a draw. I’ll bring you both up to speed, but first . . .” John’s gaze moves to my dad. “Sam, is this who I think it is?”

  My smile grows again. It feels like I’ve been waiting years to introduce my friends to my dad. “Guys,” I say, pride in my voice, “this is my father, Malcolm. I can confirm that he’s definitely not Setrákus Ra either, if you’re worried about that.”

  My dad steps forward, shaking hands with each of the Garde and Sarah.

  “Thanks for the help out there,” John says, motioning to my dad’s rifle. “Glad you brought some hardware.”

  “Looked like you had it under control,” my dad tells John. “I’ve just wanted to shoot something Mogadorian for a very long time.”

  “Under control,” chuckles Six, shaking her head. “Looked to me like you were about to get swallowed, John.”

  “So, it wasn’t my best plan.” John shrugs, smiling. Sarah pats him on the back encouragingly.

  Five is studying my dad and me. “You’re not Loric,” he says matter-of-factly, like he’s just put it together. “I thought for sure you must be a Cêpan, being so old and all.”

  My dad chuckles. “Sorry to disappoint. Just an old human, hoping to help.”

  Five turns to look at John, nodding. “You’ve got a real army here.”

  Six and I exchange a look. I’m not really sure if this new guy is being sarcastic or if he’s really just kind of dense. Judging by her face, Six isn’t sure either.

  “There’s the six of us here, and four waiting for us back in Chicago,” John says patiently. “I don’t think ten people really qualifies us for army status, but thanks.”

  “I guess not,” mumbles Five.

  “I want to hear everything about how you guys found each other,” John says. He looks at my dad almost cautiously, like he just knocked on our family’s door and asked if I could come out and play alien invasion. “First, Mr. Goode, I just want you to know that I never meant for Sam to get wrapped up in all this. I’m sorry I’ve put him in danger, but I don’t think we would’ve made it this far without him.”

  “Definitely not,” Six agrees, smiling at me. I look away, feeling a blush creeping up my cheeks.

  My dad looks touched. “Putting ourselves in danger for the safety of Earth is a Goode family tradition. But thank you for saying that.” He rests a hand on my shoulder. “I’m glad you found each other. And drop the ‘mister’—Malcolm will do just fine.”

  There are sirens near
by, drawing closer. We might be in a rural part of Arkansas, but the local authorities would definitely notice a spaceship crashing out of the sky. They’ll be here soon.

  “We should get moving,” Six says.

  John nods, already starting to run towards the trees. “Our car is parked out by the highway.”

  “I’ll ride with Sam and Malcolm,” Six says, “and show them the way.”

  John, Sarah and Five head off towards the highway. Meanwhile, as flashing lights begin crawling through Fouke, my dad and I, along with Six, make for the Rambler. While my dad climbs into the driver’s seat, Six touches my arm.

  “I’m sorry if I, um, embarrassed you before with that hug. In front of your dad and all. I hope that wasn’t weird.”

  “No way,” I say hurriedly, wanting Six to know that hug was about the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time. “That was really nice.”

  “Don’t get used to me being all emotional,” Six says, giving me a look. I think she’s teasing me. “You showing up just caught me off guard.”

  “So you’re saying I’d have to disappear again to get another hug?”

  “Exactly,” Six replies, and then starts to get into the backseat. She hesitates, thinking something over for a moment, and then suddenly hugs me again. “Okay. One more.”

  I hold Six close as my dad starts the car. His face is lit up by the car’s instrument panel and even though he’s pretending not to, I can tell he’s watching us. If I had my way, I’d never let her go—we’d keep right on hugging until the local cops came to arrest us.

  Six breaks away from me, looking into my eyes. I try to keep my expression cool and collected, but that’s probably not working.

  “For the record,” she says, “I never thought you were Setrákus Ra. I knew you right away.”

  “Thanks,” I reply lamely, scrambling for something better to say, like how I missed her or how amazing it is to see her now. Before I can come up with anything, Six has gotten into the backseat.

  She’s just buckling her seat belt when Five clears his throat. “Uh,” he says. “What was that stone thing you threw at me?”