Pittacus Lore - The Fall of Five

That’s perfect. They’re too distracted to search for us right now.

“Where the hell are we?” I whisper.

“Dulce Base,” my dad answers. “Top-secret government base in New Mexico, co- opted by the Mogadorians.”

“How did you find me?”

“It’s a long story, Sam. I’ll tell you when we’re clear of this place.”

Slowly we inch our way along a back wall, trying to stay away from the commotion. We stick to the shadows, just in case any guards should peel away from the madness inside. My dad leads the way, clutching the bent steel grate from the ventilation shaft we climbed out of. It’s not much as far as weapons go, but it could do some damage. Still, it’s better if we avoid a fight. I’m not sure how much energy I have left after what we just went through.

My dad points into the darkness, beyond the collapsed wreckage of what used to be a watchtower, into the desert.

“Our ride is parked out there,” he says.

“Who knocked down that watchtower?”

“We did,” my dad answers. “Well, Adam did.”

“How—how is that possible? They aren’t supposed to have powers like that.”

“I don’t know how it’s possible, Sam. But I do know he’s different from the others.” My dad reaches out, squeezing my arm. “He helped me find you. And, well . . . I’ll tell you the rest once we’re out of here.”

I rub my face; my eyes hurt from the smoke. Also, I still can’t believe this is happening. My father and I skulking around a government base, escaping from hostile aliens. Weirdly, it’s sort of like a dream come true. We keep inching along, angling our way to a patch of shadows where it’ll be a straight sprint towards the fence and into the desert.

“I can’t figure out how you and the Garde both managed to get here at the same time.”

“We don’t know for sure it’s the Garde.”

“Come on, Dad,” I say, jerking my thumb at the flames rising from the base. “You said this is a Mog place and that the government’s in cahoots with the Mogs, so we know it’s not the army. What the hell else could cause all this?”

My dad stares at me, seeming a little amazed. “You know them. I can’t believe you know them,” he whispers, shaking his head guiltily. “I never meant to get you into this mess.”

“You didn’t, Dad. It’s not your fault my best friend turned out to be an alien. Anyway, I’m in it now and we have to help them.”

It’s hard to tell in the darkness and smoke, but it’s almost as if my dad is seeing me for the first time. During our hurried reunion inside the base, he was probably seeing that little kid I was when he first disappeared. But I’m not a child anymore. From the look on his face—a mixture of sadness and pride—I think he realizes that.

“You’ve turned into a brave young man,” he says, “but you know we can’t go back in there, right? Even if the Garde are here, I won’t risk it—won’t risk you.”

He starts moving again and I follow, our backs to the wall as we approach a corner of the base’s exterior wall. My feet move sluggishly, but it’s not from my exhaustion. My heart knows we shouldn’t be running and my body is joining in the protest. The chaos around the base reminds me of the cave in West Virginia and of what happened afterwards—the chains, the torture—that could happen to Adam if we leave him behind, or the Garde if they’re in there fighting. I want to do something besides running away.

“We can help them,” I blurt out. “We have to!”

My dad nods. “And we will. But we won’t help anyone by getting killed while blindly racing back into a heavily fortified military base that also happens to be on fire.”

That speech sounds familiar. It takes me a second to realize it’s exactly the kind of advice I used to give to John, right before he’d rush off to do something brave and stupid.

As I’m struggling to come up with a sound argument for reentering the base, my dad peeks around the corner and rapidly jerks back. A second later, I can hear two sets of running footsteps approaching.

“Mogs,” he hisses, hunkering down. “Two of them. They’re probably setting up a perimeter.”

As the first Mogadorian guard comes sprinting around the corner, my dad swings the steel grate low, crunching right into the Mog’s shins. He tumbles to the ground, landing hard on his ugly face.

The second guard tries to get his weapon up, but my dad is on him. They start wrestling over the blaster; my dad has the advantage of surprise and adrenaline. The Mogadorian is stronger, though, and slams my dad against the wall, the weapon still pinned between them. I hear a rush of breath escape my father.

I dash to the first guard before he can collect himself. I kick him hard in the side of the head, so hard that I can feel my toes immediately swelling up inside my worn-out sneakers. I grab his blaster, spin around, and fire.

The shot sizzles into the wall next to my dad’s head. I correct my aim and shoot again.

My dad spits out black ash as the Mogadorian disintegrates in front of him. Not wanting to take any chances, I shoot the Mogadorian lying at my feet. I watch his body explode in a puff of soot that spreads across the pavement. It’s a pretty satisfying sight.

When I look up, my dad is staring at me with a mix of wonderment and pride.

“Nice shooting,” he says. He picks up the second Mog blaster and peers around the corner again. “Coast is clear, but more will be coming. We need to get moving.”

I look back at the base, wondering if my friends are still fighting for their lives inside. Sensing my hesitation, my dad gently grabs on to my shoulder.

“Sam, I know it might not count for much right now, but you have my word that we’re going to do everything we can for the Garde. Saving them, protecting Earth . . . it’s my life’s work.”

“Mine too,” I reply, realizing as I say them that the words are true.

He pokes his head around the corner again and then motions for me. We sprint into the open, heading towards the fallen watchtower where my dad says there will be a way through Dulce’s fence. I half expect blaster fire to erupt behind us at anytime, but it never comes. I glance over my shoulder at the smoke curling upwards from the base. I hope the Garde and Adam made it out alive. My dad’s old Chevy Rambler is parked right where he said it’d be. We drive east through the desert until we cross into Texas. We don’t hit any roadblocks and we aren’t chased by any dark government patrol cars; the roads are dark and empty until we get closer to Odessa.

“So,” Dad begins casually, like he’s asking me how my day was at school. “How’d you end up being best friends with one of the Garde?”

“His name’s John,” I reply. “His Cêpan actually came to Paradise looking for you. We just met at school and had, uh, some mutual friends.”

I look out the window, watching Texas fly by. It’s been awhile since I thought of high school, of Mark James, of the manure in my locker and that psychotic hayride. It’s hard to believe I once considered Mark and his crew the most dangerous people in my world. I laugh softly and dad glances over at me.

“Tell me everything, Sam. I feel like I’ve missed so much.”

So I do. I begin with meeting John at school, jump to the battle on the football field, and finish with our time on the run and my capture. I have tons of questions for my dad, but it actually feels really good to talk. It’s not just that I spent weeks alone in that cell; I’ve missed confiding to my father.

It’s late when we pull up to a motel on the outskirts of town. Even though Dad and I are both filthy—we look like we just tunneled out of prison, which we pretty much did— the tired old man renting rooms doesn’t ask us any questions.