“You can do better than that,” says One, sitting cross-legged on the tree trunk.
“Shut up,” I mutter.
Ivan leaps onto the tree trunk, standing above me. He points over his shoulder, a wild look in his eyes.
“You want to fight me for them?” he snarls. “For some Loric trash? You’re choosing them over us?”
“Yes.”
“Then you can die with them!”
Ivan jumps off the log, intending to stomp my face. I roll away at the last moment, kicking him in the side of the knee as he lands. I hear something snap inside Ivan’s leg, and he howls with pain.
I scramble to my feet. Center myself, regain my balance. Ivan lunges towards me, now limping slightly, but this time I’m ready for him. I deflect his punches-all straight ahead, angrily telegraphed-using his own momentum and speed against him. It’s something I never tried in our sparring sessions, but it’s exactly what Hilde had been teaching Number One.
Ivan comes at me again, frustrated, his blows more furious than ever. I duck under them and when he’s off balance, drive the heel of my hand into his nose. His feet go out from under him.
I step down on Ivan’s throat, thinking of Number Two and the way he stepped on her neck. Out of the corner of my eye, I think I see a flicker of light coming from the direction of Hannu’s hut. But maybe it’s just my imagination.
“Not so easy when someone hits back, huh?” I say.
Ivan shoves my foot away, but I catch his wrist in both of my hands. He pulls me to the ground and tries to climb on top of me. He punches wildly at me with his free hand, but I’m in control. I whip my legs up and slip one leg under his chin, the other behind his head, then pull down on his head with both of my hands, choking him.
It takes a full minute for Ivan to lose consciousness, punching me in the ribs the whole time with decreasing force. When it’s over, I shove his body away, lying on my back. I’m hurting all over, but I’m alive.
Around me, the jungle has grown eerily quiet.
But then I hear the hiss of orders broadcast across the half-broken communicator discarded in the dirt a few feet away, and I know what’s coming.
I’m too late.
CHAPTER 26
I manage to get to my feet and stagger towards the hut. I notice shadows lurking in the jungle around me, the scouts maintaining a perimeter.
In the hut’s doorway, the crumpled body of a fifty-year-old man bleeds from a vicious sword wound. Hannu’s Cepan. Dead like the other Cepans. Which means they must have discovered the boy is Number Three.
I feel like sinking to my knees, like giving up. I’ve thrown my entire life away tonight-I can never go home again; they’ll know me as a traitor. I’ll be spending the rest of my life running and hiding, hunted, just like the Garde. And for what? I didn’t even manage to help Hannu. I was too late, took too long fighting with Ivan. I’ve accomplished nothing.
Suddenly the back wall of the hut explodes outward, splinters cascading in all directions. There is Hannu, alive, running-and running fast. Faster than humanly possible. He takes off before my people have a chance to close in, speeding towards the ravine.
There’s still a chance.
There’s no way that I can keep up with Hannu, but I run as fast as my body will allow, breath whistling painfully through my lungs. There are other pursuers nearby; I can hear them crashing through the jungle. Even with all the other scents in the jungle, I can still smell the acidic tang of piken breath as one charges towards the ravine. If I can only find a way to get to Hannu first, maybe I can still help him.
The sound of rushing water grows louder. I don’t know how Hannu plans to cross the ravine. Maybe he’s strong enough to jump it. Maybe he knows some secret way down. It doesn’t matter, as long as he gets away. If he does, there is hope.
I see Hannu’s silhouette nearing the edge of the ravine, maybe thirty yards from where I’m standing. There is a piken close on his heels. I’m afraid for him-he doesn’t have anywhere to go-but when Hannu reaches the edge of the ravine he jumps, landing safely on the other side. It’s a jump I could never make, and neither can the piken.
He’s safe.
Except: My father is waiting for him on the other side of the ravine. There is nothing more Hannu can do. The General grabs the boy and lifts him easily. He cuts a striking image, like a Mogadorian hero culled right from the Great Book.
He hesitates for a moment, observing his prize, then tears what I know is the pendant from Hannu’s neck and stuffs it into his cloak.
There’s no way across the ravine. I can only watch as my father laughs, then pulls his sword from its scabbard. Its glowing shaft pierces the night before he plunges it through Hannu’s chest and then drops him callously to the ground. He’s dead.
One is screaming inside my head. Or is that me?
The General stares across the ravine. For a moment, our eyes lock.
I hear haggard footsteps approaching me from behind. I know what they mean, but I don’t turn to face them.
My brief rebellion is at an end.
“Good-bye, Adamus,” hisses Ivan as he slams both his hands into my back, shoving me over the edge of the ravine, towards the rocks and water below.
CHAPTER 27
The sun is warm on my face, in wonderful contrast to the cool saltiness of the ocean breeze. I relax back on my elbows and close my eyes. I turn my face up towards the sun, soaking in the California rays.
When I open my eyes, One is sitting on the sand next to me. She is so beautiful. Her blond hair is loose, brushing lightly across her bare shoulders. This is wonderful. Such a pleasant sensation. I can’t ever remember feeling so content.
Why does she look so stricken?
“Adam,” she says, “you have to wake up.”
“Wake up from what?” I ask, feeling not a care in the world.
I reach out and take her hand. One doesn’t pull away; she just stares into my eyes with a pleading look.
“You have to wake up,” she repeats.
I feel a sudden chill. Somehow, my body is in two places at once. The other place is wet and cold. Painful. My body is tossed across rocks, buffeted endlessly by a forceful current. I can feel that some of my bones are broken, sharp pains slicing up and down my body.
I push that reality aside. I try to focus on California.
“Please, wake up,” One pleads.
“But it’s so nice here.”
“If you stay here, you’ll die.”
When I open my mouth to respond, muddy river water spills out. I gasp for breath, choking, struggling. The current is strong, pulling me downward.
But that doesn’t make sense. I’m on a beach in California. All the pain is somewhere else, happening to someone else. One looks so sad and desperate, I have to turn away.
The sun is just beginning to set over the ocean, the sky turning orange and purple. Soon it will be dark, and I’ll be able to rest.
“Wake up and fight,” begs One. “Please, Adam.”
I don’t know if I can.
CHAPTER ONE
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, but 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 window shade and watch the ground crew hustle back and forth under the plane. The city of Barcelona is a faint outline in the distance.