I Am Number Four (9 page)

“Of course not. One of the planet’s Elders met us at the airfield. He’s the one who cast the Loric charm that branded your ankles and tied you all together, and gave you each an amulet. He said you were special children, blessed children, by which I assume he meant you were getting a chance to escape. We originally planned to take the ship up and wait out the invasion, wait for our people to fight back and win. But that never happened…,” he says, trailing off. Then he sighs. “We stayed in orbit for a week. That was how long it took for the Mogadorians to strip Lorien of everything. After it became clear that there would be no going back, we set our course for Earth.”

“Why didn’t he cast a charm so that none of us could be killed, regardless of numbers?”

“There’s only so much that can be done, John. What you are talking about is invincibility. It’s not possible.”

I nod. The charm only does so much. If one of the Mogadorians tries killing us out of order, whatever
damage it attempts is reversed and done to it instead. If one had tried shooting me in the head the bullet would have gone through its own head. But not anymore. Now if they catch me, I die.

I sit in silence for a moment thinking about it all. The airfield. Lorien’s lone remaining Elder who cast the charm on us, Loridas, now dead. The Elders were the first inhabitants of Lorien, those beings who made it what it was. There were ten of them in the beginning, and they contained all Legacies within them. So old, so long ago that they seem more of a myth than anything based in reality. Aside from Loridas, no one knew what had happened to the rest of them, if they were dead.

I try to remember what it was like orbiting the planet waiting to see if we could go back, but I don’t remember any of it. I can recall bits and pieces of the journey. The interior of the ship we traveled in was round and open aside from the two bathrooms that had doors. There were cots pushed to one side; the other side was devoted to exercise and games to keep us from getting too antsy. I can’t remember what the others look like. I can’t remember the games we played. I remember being bored, an entire year being spent inside an airship with seventeen others. There was a stuffed animal I slept with at night, and though I’m sure the memory is wrong, I seem to recall the animal playing back.

“Henri?”

“Yes?”

“I keep having images of a man in a silver and blue suit. I saw him at our house, and on the battlefield. He could control the weather. And then I saw him dead.”

Henri nods. “Every time you travel back it’ll only be to those scenes holding relevance to you.”

“He was my father, wasn’t he?”

“Yes,” he says. “He wasn’t supposed to come around much, but he did anyway. He was around a lot.”

I sigh. My father had fought valiantly, killing the beast and many of the soldiers. But in the end it still wasn’t enough.

“Do we really have a chance to win?”

“What do you mean?”

“We were defeated so easily. What hope is there for a different outcome if we’re found? Even when we have all developed our powers, and when we finally come together and are ready to fight, what hope do we have against things like those?”

“Hope?” he says. “There is always hope, John. New developments have yet to present themselves. Not all the information is in. No. Don’t give up hope just yet. It’s the last thing to go. When you have lost hope, you have lost everything. And when you think all is lost, when all is dire and bleak, there is always hope.”

HENRI AND I GO INTO TOWN ON SATURDAY FOR
the Halloween parade, almost two weeks after arriving in Paradise. I think the solitude is getting to us both. Not that we aren’t used to solitude. We are. But the solitude in Ohio is different from that of most other places. There is a certain silence to it, a certain loneliness.

It’s a cold day, the sun peeking intermittently through thick white clouds gliding by overhead. The town is bustling. All the kids are in costume. We have bought a leash for Bernie Kosar, who is wearing a Superman cape draped over his back, a large “S” on his chest. He seems unimpressed with it. He’s not the only dog dressed as a superhero.

Henri and I stand on the sidewalk in front of the Hungry Bear, the diner just off the circle in the center of town, to watch the parade. In its front window
hangs a clipping of the
Gazette
article on Mark James. He’s pictured standing on the fifty-yard line of the football field, wearing his letterman jacket, his arms crossed, his right foot resting atop a football, a wry, confident grin on his face. Even I have to admit he looks impressive.

Henri sees me staring at the paper.

“It’s your friend, right?” he asks with a smile. Henri now knows the story, from the near fight to the cow manure to the crush I have on his ex-girlfriend. Since finding out all this information he has only referred to Mark as my “friend.”

“My
best
friend,” I correct him.

Just then the band starts. It’s at the head of the parade, followed by various Halloween-themed floats, one of which is carrying Mark and a few of the football players. Some I recognize from class, some I don’t. They throw handfuls of candy to the kids. Then Mark catches sight of me and he nudges the guy beside him—Kevin, the kid I kneed in the groin in the cafeteria. Mark points at me and says something. They both laugh.

“That’s him?” Henri asks.

“That’s him.”

“Looks like a dick.”

“I told you.”

Then come the cheerleaders, walking, all in uniform, hair pulled back, smiling and waving to the crowd.

Sarah is walking alongside them, taking pictures. She gets them in action, while they’re jumping, doing their cheers. Despite the fact that she’s wearing jeans and no makeup, she’s far more beautiful than any of them. We’ve been talking more and more at school, and I can’t stop thinking about her. Henri sees me staring at her.

Then he turns back to the parade. “That’s her, huh?”

“That’s her.”

She sees me and waves, then points to the camera, meaning she’d come over but wants to take pictures. I smile and nod.

“Well,” Henri says. “I can certainly see the appeal.”

We watch the parade. The mayor of Paradise passes by, sitting on the back of a red convertible. He throws more candy to the children. There will be a lot of hyper kids today, I think.

I feel a tap on my shoulder and turn around.

“Sam Goode. What’s the word?”

He shrugs. “Nothin’. What’s up with you?”

“Watching the parade. This is my dad, Henri.”

They shake hands. Henri says, “John has told me a lot about you.”

“Really?” Sam asks with a crooked grin.

“Really,” Henri responds. Then he pauses a minute and a smile takes shape. “You know, I’ve been reading. Maybe you’ve heard it already, but did you know that aliens are the reason we have thunderstorms? They
create them in order to enter our planet unnoticed. The storm creates a diversion, and the lightning you see is really coming from the spaceships entering Earth’s atmosphere.”

Sam smiles and scratches his head. “Get out of here,” he says.

Henri shrugs. “That’s what I’ve heard.”

“All right,” Sam says, more than willing to oblige Henri. “Well, did you know that the dinosaurs really didn’t go extinct? Aliens were so fascinated by them that they decided to gather them all up and take them to their own planet.”

Henri shakes his head. “I didn’t know that,” he says. “Did you know that the Loch Ness monster was really an animal from the planet Trafalgra? They brought him here as an experiment, to see if he could survive, and he did. But when he was discovered the aliens had to take him back, which is why he was never spotted again.”

I laugh, not at the theory, but at the name Trafalgra. There is no planet named Trafalgra and I wonder if Henri has made it up on the fly.

“Did you know the Egyptian pyramids were built by aliens?”

“I’ve heard that,” Henri says, smiling. This is funny to him because though the pyramids weren’t actually built by aliens, they were built using Lorien knowledge
and with Lorien help. “Did you know the world is supposed to end on December 21, 2012?”

Sam nods and grins. “Yeah, I’ve heard that. Earth’s supposed expiration date, the end of the Mayan calendar.”

“Expiration date?” I chime in. “Like, a ‘best if used before’ date that’s printed on milk cartons? Is Earth going to curdle?”

I laugh at my own joke, but Sam and Henri pay me no attention.

Then Sam says, “Did you know crop circles were originally used as a navigational tool for the Agharian alien race? But that was thousands of years ago. Today they are only created by bored farmers.”

I laugh again. I have the urge to ask what sorts of people create alien conspiracies if it is bored farmers who create crop circles, but I don’t.

“How about the Centuri?” asks Henri. “Do you know of them?”

Sam shakes his head.

“They’re a race of aliens living at Earth’s core. They are a contentious race, in constant discord with one another, and when they have civil wars Earth’s surface is thrown off-kilter. That’s when things such as earthquakes and volcanic eruptions occur. The tsunami of 2004? All because the Centuri king’s daughter went missing.”

“Did they find her?” I ask.

Henri shakes his head, looks at me, then back at Sam, who is still smiling at the game. “They never did. Theorists believe she is able to shift her shape, and that she is living somewhere in South America.”

Henri’s theory is so good, I think there’s no way he made it up that quickly. I stand there and actually ponder it, even though I’ve never heard of aliens called the Centuri, even when I know for a fact that nothing lives at Earth’s core.

“Did you know…” Sam pauses. I think Henri has stumped him, and as soon as that thought pops into my mind Sam says something so frightening that a wave of terror shoots through me.

“Did you know that the Mogadorians are on a quest for universal domination, and that they have already wiped out one planet and are planning to wipe Earth out next? They’re here seeking human weakness so that they can exploit us when the war begins.”

My mouth drops open and Henri stares at Sam, dumbfounded. He’s holding his breath. His hand tightens around his coffee cup until I’m afraid that if it tightens any further the cup will crumple. Sam glances at Henri, then at me.

“You guys look like you’ve seen a ghost. Does this mean I win?”

“Where did you hear that?” I ask. Henri looks at me so fiercely that I wish I had remained silent.

“From
They Walk Among Us
.”

Henri still can’t think of how to respond. He opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes. Then a petite woman standing behind Sam interrupts.

“Sam,” she says. He turns and looks at her. “Where have you been?”

Sam shrugs. “I was standing right here.”

She sighs, then says to Henri, “Hi, I’m Sam’s mother.”

“Henri,” he says, and shakes her hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

She opens her eyes in surprise. Something in Henri’s accent has excited her.

“
Ah bon! Vous parlez français? C’est super! J’ai personne avec qui je peux parler français depuis long-temps.”

Henri smiles. “I’m sorry. I don’t actually speak French. I know my accent sounds like it, though.”

“No?” She is disappointed. “Well hell, here I thought some dignity had finally come to town.”

Sam looks at me and rolls his eyes.

“All right, Sam, let’s get going,” she says.

He shrugs. “You guys gonna go to the park and the hayride?”

I look at Henri, then at Sam. “Yeah, sure,” I say. “Are you?”

He shrugs.

“Well, try to come meet us if you can,” I say.

He smiles and nods. “Okay, cool.”

“Time to go, Sam. And you might not be able to go on the hayride. I need your help at home,” his mother says. He starts to say something but she walks away. Sam follows her.

“Very nice woman,” Henri says sarcastically.

“How did you make all that up?” I ask.

The crowd begins migrating up Main Street, away from the circle. Henri and I follow it up to the park, where cider and food are being served.

“You lie long enough and you start to get used to it.”

I nod. “So what do you think?”

He takes a deep breath and exhales. The temperature is cold enough so that I can see his breath. “I have no idea. I don’t know what to think at this point. He caught me off guard.”

“He caught us both off guard.”

“We’re going to have to look into the publication he’s getting his information from, find out who is writing it and where it’s being written.”

He looks over at me expectantly.

“What?”

“You’re going to have to get a copy,” he says.

“I will,” I say. “But still, it makes no sense. How could somebody know that?”

“It’s being supplied from somewhere.”

“Do you think it’s one of us?”

“No.”

“Do you think it’s them?”

“It could be. I’ve never thought to check the conspiracy-theory rags. Perhaps they think we read them and can root us out by leaking information like that. I mean…” He pauses, thinks about it for a minute. “Hell, John, I don’t know. We’ll have to look into it, though. It’s not a coincidence, that’s for sure.”

We walk in silence, still a little stunned, turning possible explanations over in our minds. Bernie Kosar trots along between us, tongue dangling, his cape falling to one side and dragging on the sidewalk. He’s a big hit with the kids and many of them stop us to pet him.

The park is situated on the southern edge of town. At the far border are two adjacent lakes separated by a narrow strip of land leading into the forest beyond them. The park itself is made up of three baseball fields, a playground, and a large pavilion where volunteers serve cider and slices of pumpkin pie. Three hay wagons are off to the side of the gravel drive, with a large sign reading:

BE SCARED OUT OF YOUR WITS!

HALLOWEEN HAUNTED HAYRIDES

START
@
SUNDOWN

$5 PER PERSON

The drive segues from gravel to dirt before it reaches the woods, the entrance to which is decorated with cutouts of ghost and goblin caricatures. It appears that the haunted hayride travels through the woods. I look around for Sarah but don’t see her anywhere. I wonder if she’ll be going on it.

Henri and I enter the pavilion. The cheerleaders are off to the side, some of them doing Halloween-themed face paintings for the kids, the others selling raffle tickets for the drawing to be held at six p.m.

“Hi, John,” I hear behind me. I turn around and there’s Sarah, holding her camera. “How did you like the parade?”

I smile at her and slide my hands into my pockets. There’s a small white ghost painted on her cheek.

“Hey, you,” I say. “I liked it. I’m think I’m getting used to this small-town Ohio charm.”

“Charm? You mean boringness, right?”

I shrug. “I don’t know, it isn’t bad.”

“Hey, it’s the little guy from school. I remember you,” she says, bending down to pet Bernie Kosar. He wags his tail wildly, jumps up and tries to lick her face. Sarah laughs. I look over my shoulder. Henri is twenty feet away, talking to Sarah’s mom at one of the picnic tables. I’m curious to know what they’re talking about.

“I think he likes you. His name is Bernie Kosar.”

“Bernie Kosar? That’s no name for an adorable dog.
Look at this cape. It’s, like, cute overload.”

“You know if you keep that up I’m going to be jealous of my own dog,” I say.

She smiles and stands.

“So are you going to buy a raffle ticket from me or what? It’s to rebuild a not-for-profit animal shelter destroyed in a fire last month in Colorado.”

“Really? How does a girl from Paradise, Ohio, learn of an animal shelter in Colorado?”

“It’s my aunt’s. I’ve convinced all the girls on the cheerleading squad to participate. We’re going to take a trip and assist in the construction. We’ll be helping the animals and getting out of school and Ohio for a week. It’s a win-win situation.”

I picture Sarah dressed in a hard hat, wielding a hammer. The thought brings a grin to my face. “So you’re saying I’m going to have to cover the kitchen alone for a whole week?” I fake an exasperated sigh and shake my head. “I don’t know if I can support such a trip now, even if it is for the animals.”

She laughs and punches me in the arm. I take out my wallet and give her five dollars for six tickets.

“These six are good luck,” she says.

“They are?”

“Of course. You bought them from me, silly.”

Just then, over Sarah’s shoulder, I see Mark and the rest of the guys from the float walk into the pavilion.

“Are you going on the haunted hayride tonight?” Sarah asks.

“Yeah, I was thinking about it.”

“You should, it’s fun. Everybody does it. And it actually gets pretty scary.”

Mark sees Sarah and me talking and scrunches his face into a scowl. He comes walking our way. Same outfit as always—letterman jacket, blue jeans, hair full of gel.

“So you’re going?” I ask Sarah.

Before she can respond Mark interrupts. “How’d you like the parade, Johnny?” he asks. Sarah quickly turns around and glares at him.

“I liked it a lot,” I reply.

“You going on the haunted hayride tonight, or are you going to be too scared?”

I smile at him. “As a matter of fact, I am going.”

“You going to have a freak-out like in school and run out of the woods crying like a baby?”

“Don’t be an ass, Mark,” Sarah says.