Pittacus Lore - The Fall of Five

“We need to get out of here now,” I say, helping Sarah limp along. We hurry down the hallway.

Bernie Kosar lumbers into view, still in bear form. He looks wounded, his entire right side smoking from blaster burns. He stares at me as if he’s trying to communicate something. I wish I had John’s animal telepathy. He seems sad, somehow. Sad, but determined.

“You okay, Bernie?” Sarah asks.

BK grunts and takes the shape of a falcon. He soars towards the window and out, flying up. He must be going to hold off the remaining Mogs on the roof while we evacuate John and Ella. I realize now what that look BK was giving me meant; he was saying good-bye, just in case it’s the last we see of him. I suck in a deep breath.

“Come on, let’s go,” I say, quietly.

There’s an overturned bookshelf blocking the doorway to Ella’s room. It’s peppered with bullet holes. Obviously this was what my dad used for cover.

“Dad?” I whisper. “It’s clear, let’s go.”

No response.

“Dad?!” I say, louder, a tremor in my voice.

Still nothing. I slam my shoulder hard against the bookshelf, but it’s wedged tight. I feel sick, desperate. Why isn’t he answering?

“Up there!” Sarah says, pointing. There’s a space large enough to crawl through between the bookshelf and the top of the doorframe. I clamber up and over, scraping my knees on the protruding shelves, landing awkwardly on the other side. It only takes seconds, but that’s time enough to imagine my dad riddled with blaster fire, John and Ella murdered in their sleep.

“Dad—?” My breath catches. It feels like time slows down. I stagger towards the bed on wobbly legs. “Dad?”

John and Ella look unharmed, and still in their comatose state, completely unaware of the chaos unfolding around them. And completely unaware that my father’s body is draped across them.

His eyes are closed. He’s bleeding from a gaping wound over his abdomen. Both of his hands are clenched there, like he’s trying to hold himself together. His spent rifle is discarded on the floor, his bloody handprints running up and down the handle. I wonder how long he kept fighting after he was shot.

Sarah gasps as she climbs over the bookshelf. “Oh no. Sam . . .”

I don’t know what to do except take his hand. It’s cold. Tears start filling my eyes. I realize that in one of the last conversations I had with my father, I basically called him a traitor. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper.

I almost jump out of my skin when my dad squeezes my hand.

His eyes are open. I can tell he’s having trouble focusing on me and realize that his glasses are gone, smashed somewhere during the fight.

“I protected them as long as I could,” my dad says, his voice strangled, fluid bubbling up from inside him and trickling from the corner of his mouth.

“Come on, we’re getting out of here,” I reply, kneeling down next to him.

A shadow of pain crosses his face. He shakes his head. “Not me, Sam. You have to go on your own.”

A howl rises above the fighting on the roof. Bernie Kosar, desperate and in agony.

Sarah touches my shoulder gently. “Sam, I’m sorry. We don’t have long.”

I shrug away from Sarah’s hand, shaking my head. I glare at my dad, tears now running freely down my cheeks. “No,” I hiss angrily, “you’re not leaving me again.”

Sarah tries to squeeze past me and drag Ella’s body out from beneath him. I don’t help. I know I’m being stupid and selfish, but I can’t let him go this easily. I’ve spent my entire life looking for him and now it’s all falling apart.

“Sam . . . go,” he whispers.

“Sam,” Sarah pleads, cradling Ella in her arms. “You have to grab John and we have to go.”

I stare at him. He nods slowly, more blood spilling out from the side of his mouth. “Go, Sam,” he says.

“I won’t,” I say, shaking my head, knowing it’s the wrong thing and not caring. “Not unless you come too.”

But it’s too late anyway. The wire hanging outside the window goes taut as a Mogadorian rappels inside. We’ve taken too long and Bernie Kosar wasn’t able to stop them. The second wave is upon us.

Bubbles break the surface of the swamp where Nine is still under water. He’s been pinned down there for almost a minute. I take a step towards the edge, wanting to dive in and save Nine, but not sure if Five will let me. He’s watching me closely, an eyebrow raised, like he’s wondering how Eight and I will react.

“Where’s the real Number Five?” asks Eight, his voice low. “What did you do with him?”

Five’s brow furrows in confusion, then he smiles. “Oh, you think I’m Setrákus Ra,” Five says, shaking his head. “It’s cool, Eight. I’m the real deal. No shape-shifting tricks.”

As if to demonstrate, Five reaches down with his free hand and opens the lock on his Chest. He clicks it shut again and glances over at us. “See?” Eight and I remain frozen in place, not sure what to do.

“Let Nine out of the water, Five,” I say, trying to keep my voice level, as far from panic as possible.

“In a second,” he replies. “I want to talk to you two without Six and Nine around to interrupt.”

“Why—why would you attack us?” Eight asks, sounding angry and disbelieving. “We’re your friends.”

Five rolls his eyes. “You’re my species,” he replies. “That doesn’t make us friends.”

“Just let Nine out of the water and we’ll talk,” I plead.

Five sighs and lifts Nine up. He’s gasping for air, his eyes fiery and enraged, still trapped in Five’s strangling grip. Try as he might, Nine can’t find any way loose.

“Not so strong now, huh?” taunts Five. “Okay, deep breath, bro.”

He dunks Nine back under the water.

Meanwhile, Six is unmoving. Her head is cocked at an uncomfortable angle and a huge bruise is forming along her jaw. Her breath seems shallow. I start towards her, wanting to heal her, but feel Five’s telekinesis gently shoving me back.

“Why are you doing this!” I shout at him, tears filling my eyes.

He looks almost taken aback when I yell at him. “Because you two were nice to me,” he says, like it should be obvious. “Because unlike Nine and Six, I don’t think you’ve been brainwashed by your Cêpans into thinking resistance is the only way forward. Eight, you proved that in India, when you let those soldiers die for you.”

“Don’t talk to me about that,” hisses Eight. “I never meant for anyone to get hurt.”

“Brainwashed?” I exclaim. “Did you say we’re brainwashed?”

“It’s okay,” Five says, placating us. “The Beloved Leader is forgiving. He’ll welcome you. There’s still time to join the winning team.”

The winning team? I can’t believe what I’m hearing. My stomach turns over; I feel like I’m about to throw up. It can’t be true— “You’re working with them?”

“I’m sorry I lied to you about that, but it was necessary. I’d been on this planet for six months when they found me,” says Five, sounding wistful. “My Cêpan was already dead of some vile human disease—that part was true, it just didn’t happen when I said. The Mogadorians took me in. They helped me. Once you read the Good Book, you’ll understand that we shouldn’t be fighting them. This whole planet—the whole universe can be ours.”

“They did something to you, Five,” I say, almost whispering, feeling both sad for Five and horrified by him. “It’s okay. We can help you.”

“Just let Nine go,” adds Eight. “We don’t want to hurt you.”

“Hurt me?” repeats Five, laughing. “That’s a good one.”

He yanks Nine out of the water and hurls his body against the gnarled tree. I try to use my telekinesis to stop Nine’s flight, but it happens too quickly and Five is too powerful. Nine smacks spine first against the trunk with enough force to shake the uppermost branches. He cries out, his body contorted, and I can tell that he’s broken some ribs, maybe even his back.