Pittacus Lore - The Power of Six

Sam turns the TV back on the old-fashioned way-with the remote-and he watches the news while Six goes invisible to check on the truck. We assume Sam’s mom noticed it missing, which surely means the police are keeping an eye out for it. Earlier in the week Sam stole the front license plate off another truck. It might help us until we get to where we’re going.

I finish packing and set my bag beside the door. Sam smiles when his picture pops up on the television screen, again on the same news cycle, and I know he’s enjoying his small bit of celebrity even at the risk of being considered a fugitive. Then they show my picture again, which means they also show Henri’s. It rips me apart to see him, even though the sketch looks nothing like him. Now isn’t the time for guilt or misery, but I miss him so much. It’s my fault he’s dead.

Fifteen minutes later Six walks in carrying a white plastic bag.

She holds up the bag and shakes it at us. “I bought you guys something.”

“Yeah, what is it?” I ask.

She reaches in and pulls out a pair of hair clippers. “I think it’s time for a haircut for you and Sam.”

“Oh come on, my head’s too small. It’s going to make me look like a turtle,” Sam objects. I laugh and try to picture him without his shaggy hair. He has a long, skinny neck, and I think he might be right.

“You’ll be incognito,” Six replies.

“Well, I don’t want to be incognito. I’m Variable x .”

“Stop being a wuss,” Six says.

He scowls. I try to be upbeat. “Yeah, Sam,” I say, peeling off my shirt. Six follows me into the bathroom, ripping the packaging away from the clippers as I bend over the tub. Her fingers are a little cold, and goose bumps sprinkle down my spine. I wish it was Sarah who was holding my shoulder steady and giving me a makeover. Sam watches from the doorway, sighing loudly, making his displeasure known.

Six finishes, and I wipe away the loose hair with a towel, then stand and look in the mirror. My head is whiter than the rest of my face, but only because it’s never seen the sun. I think that a few days in the Florida Keys, where Henri and I lived before coming to Ohio, would fix the problem in no time.

“See, John looks tough and rugged like that. I’m going to look like a turd,” Sam groans.

“I am tough and rugged, Sam,” I reply.

He rolls his eyes while Six cleans the clippers. “Down,” she says.

Sam obeys, dropping to his knees and bending over the tub. When she’s done, Sam stands and flashes me a pleading look.

“How bad is it?”

“You look good, buddy,” I say. “You look like a fugitive.”

Sam rubs his head a few times and finally looks in the mirror. He cringes. “I look like an alien!” he exclaims in mock disgust, then glances at me over his shoulder. “No offense,” he adds lamely.

Six collects all the hair from the tub and drops it in the toilet, careful to flush every strand. She coils the cord of the clippers into a neat, tight loop, then slips it back into its bag.

“No time like the present,” she says.

We strap our bags across her shoulders and she grabs them both with her hands, then makes herself invisible, causing the bags to disappear as well. She rushes out the door to take them to the truck without being seen. While she’s gone I reach up into the far right corner of the closet, toss aside a few towels, and grab the Loric Chest.

“You ever going to open that thing or what?” Sam asks. He’s been excited to see what’s inside ever since I told him about it.

“Yeah, I will,” I say. “As soon as I feel safe.”

The motel door opens, then closes. Six reappears and glances at the Chest.

“I won’t be able to make you and Sam disappear and that. Only what I hold in my hands. I’ll run it back to the truck first.”

“No, that’s okay. Take Sam with you, and I’ll follow behind.”

“That’s stupid, John. How are you going to follow behind?”

I pull on my hat and jacket, then zip it and pull the hood over my head so that only my face shows.

“I’ll be fine. I have advanced hearing, like you,” I say.

She eyes me skeptically and shakes her head. I grab Bernie Kosar’s leash and clip it to his collar.

“Only until we get to the truck,” I tell him, since he hates walking on a leash. On second thought, I lean down to carry him since his leg is still healing, but he tells me he’d rather walk himself.

“Ready when you are,” I say.

“All right, let’s do this,” Six says.

Sam offers his hand to her a little too enthusiastically. I stifle a laugh.

“What?” he asks.

I shake my head. “Nothing. I’ll follow you as best I can, but don’t get too far ahead.”

“Just cough if you can’t follow and we’ll stop. The truck is only a few minutes’ walk from here, behind the abandoned barn,” Six says. “Can’t miss it.”

As the door flings open, Sam and Six disappear.

“That’s our cue, BK. Just the two of us now.”

He follows me out, trotting happily with his tongue dangling. Aside from quick bathroom trips to the small plot of grass beside the motel, Bernie Kosar’s been cooped up like the rest of us.

The night air is cool and fresh, carrying a scent of pine, and the wind on my face brings me instantly back to life. As I walk I close my eyes and try to sense Six by combing the air with my mind, reaching out and feeling the landscape with telekinesis, the same way I was able to stop the speeding bullet in Athens by grabbing everything in the air. I feel them, a few feet ahead of me and slightly to the right. I give Six a nudge and she startles, her breath catching in her throat. Three seconds later she shoulders into me, nearly causing me to fall. I laugh. And so does she.

“What are you guys doing?” Sam asks. He’s annoyed with our little game. “We’re supposed to be quiet, remember?”

We make it to the truck, which is parked behind a dilapidated old barn that looks as though it’s ready to collapse. Six releases Sam’s hand and he climbs into the middle of the cab. Six jumps behind the wheel, and I slide in next to Sam with BK at my feet.

“Holy crap, dude, what happened to your hair?” I goad Sam.

“Shut up.”

Six starts the truck and I smile as she steers us onto the road, flicking on the headlights when the wheels touch the asphalt.

“What?” Sam asks.

“I was just thinking that, out of the four of us, three are aliens, two are fugitives with terrorist ties, and not a single one of us has a valid driver’s license. Something tells me things might get interesting.”

Even Six can’t help but smile at this.

“I WAS THIRTEEN WHEN THEY CAUGHT UP TO us,” Six says when we cross into Tennessee, fifteen minutes after leaving the Trucksville Motel behind. I’d asked her to tell us about how she and Katarina were captured. “We were in West Texas after fleeing Mexico because of a stupid mistake. We had both been completely entranced by some stupid internet post that Two had written, though we didn’t know it was by Two at the time, and we responded. We were lonely in Mexico, living in some dusty town in the middle of nowhere, and we just had to know if it really was a member of the Garde.”

I nod, knowing what she’s talking about. Henri had also seen the blog post while we were in Colorado. I had been in a school spelling bee, and the scar had come while I was onstage. I’d been rushed to the hospital and the doctor saw the first scar, and the fresh burn all the way to the bone of the second. When Henri arrived, they’d accused him of child abuse, which was the catalyst behind our fleeing the state and assuming new identities, another new start.