United as One (31 page)

“COMING UP ON
THE INVASION: A LOOK BACK,
we interview—
zzt
—the courageous members of Australia's Royal Eleventh Brigade—
zzt
—who staged a daring raid on a Mogadorian warship on VH Day. But first—
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—the Loric? Gods? Heroes? Illegal immigrants? Our—
zzt
—panel discusses—”

I turn off the television. It gets terrible reception way up here anyway. With the background noise gone, I can focus totally on my scrubbing. My hand's a little sore from gripping the brush, pushing it back and forth across the stone wall. It'd be easier just to use my telekinesis, but I like the work. It feels good to use my hands, to worry at these ancient paint stains until they flake away, or until my forearms are too tired to continue.

Used to be there was a painting on this wall of Eight getting run through by a sword. Now that's completely gone. I scrubbed that one away first. The only prophecy
left here is the painting of the Earth split in half, one part alive and the other dead, with two ships approaching the planet from opposite sides. The one I'm rubbing away now.

I actually kind of like this one, which is why I saved it for last. My reading is that the painter didn't know who would win the war for Earth. That's why they left it so vague. It still has to go. I'm trying not to dwell on the past so much anymore.

I want this place to be about the future.

So I keep scrubbing.

“I think it's clean, John.”

Ella's voice breaks me out of my trance. I'm not sure how long I've been scouring the wall. Hours, maybe. The muscles in my arm are numb. I've probably been buffing stone for a while, the painting completely erased.

“Spaced out for a bit,” I say sheepishly.

“Yeah, I've been sitting here for about ten minutes,” she replies.

Ella tracked me down a few months ago and has been hanging around ever since. I'm still not exactly sure how she did it. I guess being a telepath probably helped.

In the Himalayas, I thought I'd found a pretty good place to hide out for a while, to get my head straight. I heard about this cavern from Marina and Six. Back
when they were on the run in India, this chamber of prophecies suffered a cave-in during a Mog attack. I'd arrived intending to excavate and see if anything could be salvaged, but those Vishnu Nationalist Eight guys had beaten me to it. Apparently, the cave is a revered place for them. They'd already started digging it out and let me join their efforts with no questions asked. These days, they secure the area, keep random hikers away and generally stay out of my hair. I guess one of them could have leaked my location to Ella, but I kind of doubt it.

Looking at her, I think there's still something a little otherworldly about Ella. The crazy spark that used to be in her eyes has faded, although right now, bathed in the cobalt-blue light of this cavern, I see some of Lorien lingering in her pupils. Maybe she saw me and my project in one of her visions and decided to come help.

I don't mind the company.

Ella's grown up a lot over the past twelve months, entered those real gawky teenage years that I don't miss one bit. Her face is suntanned from being outside, her hair braided like one of the locals. She goes to school in the little village down the mountain, and the seven other kids in her class pretend like she's not different at all.

She sits cross-legged on the massive table I've installed in the center of this cavern—my project—picking at a thread on the tarp I've got covering it.

“So, the walls are clean,” Ella says.

“Yeah.”

“Now you've got no reason left to procrastinate.”

I look away from her. She's been needling me on an almost daily basis to go out and find the others. I always intended to—the work I'm doing up here, it's not just for me. However, I think a part of me came to enjoy the solitude and the rooted feeling of the Himalayas. When was the last time I got to stay in one place without constantly looking over my shoulder?

Plus, I'm a little nervous about tracking everyone down. A lot can change in a year.

From behind her back, Ella pulls out the wooden cigar box where I've been storing the other pieces of my project. She holds it out to me.

“I took the liberty of getting this for you,” she says. “You can leave right away.”

I narrow my eyes at her. “I wish you wouldn't go through my stuff.”

“Come on, John. We're telepaths. You know boundaries are hard.”

I take the box from her. “You just want to see Nine again.”

Ella's eyes widen. “Hey! Now who's snooping?”

She's right, though. It's time. No more putting this off.

Outside the cave, there's a little snow on the mountain. I jog down the rocky path, into the sunny day,
feeling the weather warm up as I get lower. The air is crisp and clean, and I take a deep breath, wanting to savor it, or maybe wanting to stall. I stop just before I reach the small encampment that's home to a rotating group of Vishnu Nationalist Eight soldiers. One of them spots me and waves. I wave back.

I take a deep breath. I'm going to miss my solitude.

Then I leap up in the air.

It's been a while since I've flown. Even though I'm a little rusty, I'm still better at it now than I was a year ago. As I soar through clouds, feeling their chill moisture on my skin, I have to resist the urge to let out a cheer. It feels good to be out here; it feels good to be stretching my Legacies in a way that I haven't in a while.

It feels good to be flying towards a situation that won't be deadly.

Well, hopefully not anyway.

Of course, as soon as I have that thought, two giant paws strike me right between the shoulder blades and send me tumbling towards the earth.

I shout as I manage to right myself. As soon as I'm safely floating, the griffin makes another pass. I dodge through the clouds, avoiding its beak, its claws—laughing all the while.

“I'm sorry I didn't say bye to you!” I yell at BK. “You were off sunning yourself somewhere, you lazy mutt!”

The Chimæra seems to accept my apology, because
instead of coming in for another attack, he flies alongside me. I hook onto one of my old friend's massive feathered wings and let him pull me forwards for a while, laughing and stroking his fur. Before we leave India's airspace, BK shakes loose, gives me a friendly roar and turns back.

“I'll be home soon, BK!” I shout into the wind.

I put my arms to my sides, keep my legs close together, chin pressed to my chest. It's my most aerodynamic posture. I turn myself invisible and settle in, my mind emptying out just like when I was scrubbing those cavern walls. I guess I've become the kind of guy who meditates.

It's going to be a long flight.

They're building the Academy in a secluded patch of forest just across the bay from San Francisco. As I descend, I can see the Golden Gate Bridge and the city beyond. Below me, newly constructed dormitories and lecture halls rise up from the greenery, cranes and cement trucks parked nearby where the work isn't yet finished. It's like a quaint private school, if you ignore what hides beyond the forested perimeter: an electrified fence, barbed wire, heavily armed soldiers patrolling the Academy's only exit road.

Ostensibly, all that is to keep the human Garde safe. I wonder, though, what would happen if one of the
human Garde decided they had enough schooling and wanted to wander off campus. Would the soldiers manning the gate allow that?

I don't ponder that question for long. That's not why I'm here.

For all their security, the Academy isn't prepared for invisible flying men. I land on the campus without being detected.

This place was built as part of the Declaration of Garde Governance, a set of laws adopted by the United Nations after Victory Humanity Day. Teenagers from around the world will be sent here to learn how to control their powers and, eventually, to work towards the betterment of humanity. There are other laws, too—stuff about the Loric and the Mogs, rules about when Legacies can be used, that kind of thing.

To be honest, I haven't really read them.

The campus is largely deserted right now. From what I've heard, the only students currently training here are the ones with no place else to go. The ones who lost their families during the invasion. The rest won't be showing up for a few months when the place opens for real.

In the entryway, there's a blown-up poster of an image that circulated everywhere during the cleanup effort that followed the invasion. In it, the president's daughter stands astride a pile of rubble in New York
City, using her super-strength to lift a stack of debris so that a mother clutching her two young children can safely escape from underneath. In the background, a glamorously tattered American flag waves. The news reports claimed that family was stuck down there for a week, but I always thought the whole thing looked staged. Inspiring, yeah. But staged.

Across the bottom of the poster, the slogan reads:
EARTH GARDE PEACEKEEPERS—YOU ARE THE BRAVE NEW WORLD
.

Still invisible, I walk through the halls of the Academy. It doesn't take long until I hear the sounds of training. I head in that direction, knowing that's where he'll be.

In an outsize gymnasium, a handful of kids practice their telekinesis with each other. Pairs of them toss footballs back and forth without using their hands, and, every time a whistle blows, they add another ball to the mix. When a group lets one of their balls drop, they heave a collective groan and start running laps.

Nine observes all this from a catwalk high above. He's dressed like a football coach—sweatpants and hoodie. One of his sleeves is pinned up on account of his missing arm. His dark hair is tied back in a ponytail. I thought maybe the government would make him cut it, but no such luck.

“Professor Nine, how long do we have to keep doing
this?” one of the kids complains, and I have to stifle my laughter.

“Until I get tired of watching you screw up, McCarthy,” Nine barks back.

I float up to the catwalk and land gently next to Nine. He senses the movement and turns his head just as I become visible.

“Look at this sellout, working for the gov—
Oof!
”

Nine nearly clotheslines me off the catwalk with his one-armed hug. When he's done squeezing the life out of me, he holds me out at arm's length, studying me like I was just secretly studying him.

“Johnny Hero, holy shit.” Nine shakes his head. “You're here.”

“I'm here.”

Detecting a lack of movement from the kids below, Nine looks down. His group of orphaned Garde have all stopped practicing to stare up at us. To stare at me in particular.

“What the hell?” he shouts. “Back to work, you maggots!”

Reluctantly, the kids do as they're told. I can't help but grin at Nine's control over them. He turns back to me and pinches my cheek, where I realize I've got a patchy beard growing. It's probably been a few months since I shaved.

“This peach fuzz supposed to make you incognito?”
Nine asks. “It ain't working.”

“Professor Nine, huh?” I respond, smirking.

“That's right,” he says, puffing out his chest.

“You never even finished high school, man.”

“It's an honorary title,” he replies with a devilish smile. “Look at you, all reclusive mountain man and shit. Where you been? You know, it wasn't cool you skipping out on us after my crippled ass spent a week nursing you back to health.”

I snort at that. “You weren't nursing me. You were laid up in the next bed.”

“Yeah, providing important emotional support.”

I know Nine's joking, but there's a bit of truth to what he says. After West Virginia, as soon as I was feeling well enough, I did bail on the others. I rub the back of my neck. “I feel bad about that. I needed to get my head right after . . .”

“Ah, shut up about it,” Nine says, patting me on the shoulder. “You're back now.” He nods his head at the kids below, many of whom are still furtively glancing at us, screwing up their telekinetic tosses, and thus running a lot of laps. “You want to say a few words to the next generation? They'd eat that shit up. These are my favorites. The messed-up ones. They remind me of us.”

I take a step back from the catwalk's railing and shake my head. “I'm not ready for anything like that,”
I tell him. From behind my back, I pull out the small box I've been carrying with me since the Himalayas. “I actually came here to give you something. Lexa, too, if she's around. . . .”

Nine raises an eyebrow at me. “Yeah, let's go say hi. I've got something I want to show you.”

Nine dismisses his class and leads me to an office on the building's third floor. It looks out over the sprawling campus, or it will once the windows are put in—right now, there are a bunch of blue tarps covering the opens spaces in the wall. Lexa sits behind a desk, staring at a multiscreen computer rig. Like Nine, she's dressed casually and seems at ease here. Her smile is wide when she recognizes me, and she immediately leaves her screens behind to give me a hug.

“So, are you a professor too?” I ask her.

Lexa scoffs. “No, Nine outpaced me there. I'm back to my favorite role: benevolent hacker.” She waves me around the desk for a look. “Check it out.”

At a glance, it's hard to take in all the information that flows across Lexa's screens. There are world maps with little blue dots, multiple search-bots trawling the internet, dark net forums and boxes of encrypted data speeding through processes I don't understand.

“So, what am I looking at?”

“I'm keeping tabs on the Garde,” she explains. “Scrubbing their information if it gets made public.
Keeping their families confidential. Even once they're under the protection of the Academy, you can't be too careful. Not to mention, some governments still aren't super-enthusiastic about this whole initiative.”