CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

ARE YOU OKAY, MR. SMITH? THE PRINCIPAL ASKS.

I look up at him. He attempts his best look of concern, a look that lasts only

a second before the toothy grin returns to his face.

No, Mr. Harris, I say. Im not okay.

I pick the sheet up off the floor. I read it again. Where did it come from? Are they merely screwing with us now? There is no phone number or address, no name. Nothing but four words

and a question mark. I look up and out the window. Henris truck is parked, fumes rising from the exhaust. In and out as quickly as he can. I look back at the computer screen. The article was posted at 11:59 a.m., almost two hours ago. Im

amazed it took Henri this long to arrive. A sense of vertigo seeps in. I feel myself sway.

Do you need the nurse? Mr. Harris asks.

The nurse, I think. No, I dont need the nurse. The nurses station is the room beside the home economics kitchen. What I need, Mr. Harris, is to go back there, fifteen minutes ago, before the hall monitor arrived. Sarah must have the pudding on the stove by now. I wonder if its boiling yet.

Is she looking towards the door, waiting for me to return?

The faint echo of the school doors slamming shut reaches the principals office. Fifteen seconds until Henri is here.

Then to his truck. Then home. Then where? To Maine? Missouri? Canada? A different school, a new beginning, another new name.

I havent slept in almost thirty hours and only now do I feel the exhaustion. But then something else enters with it, and in that split second between instinct and action, the reality that Im going away forever without the chance to say good-bye

is suddenly too much to bear. My eyes narrow, my face twists in agony, and without thinking, without truly knowing what it is that Im doing I lunge over Mr. Harris's desk and crash through the plate-glass window, which shatters into a million little pieces behind me. A scream of shock follows.

My feet land in the outside grass. I turn right and run across the schoolyard, the classrooms passing in a blur to my right, across the lot and into the woods that lie beyond the baseball field. There are cuts on my forehead and left elbow from the glass. My lungs are burning. The hell with the pain. I keep going, the sheet of paper still in my right hand. I shove it into my pocket. Why would the Mogadorians send a fax? Wouldnt they just show up? That is their main advantage, to arrive

unexpectedly, without warning. The benefit of surprise.

I take a hard left in the middle of the woods, weaving in and out of the forests density until it ends and a field begins.

Cows chewing cud watch with blank eyes as I streak past. I beat Henri to the house. Bernie Kosar is nowhere to be seen. I burst through the door and stop dead in my tracks. My breath

catches in my throat. At the kitchen table, in front of Henri's open laptop, sits a person I immediately think is one of them.

Theyve beat me here, have worked it out so that I am alone, without Henri. The person turns around and I clench my hands into fists and am ready to fight.

But its Mark James.

What are you doing here? I ask.

Im trying to figure out whats going on, he says, a look of fright evident in his eyes.

Who the hell are you?

What are you talking about?

Look, he says, pointing to the computer screen.

I walk to him, but I dont look at the screen, my eyes instead focusing on the white sheet of paper sitting beside the computer. Its an exact replica of the sheet in my pocket except for the paper that its printed on, which is thicker than the fax. And then I notice something else. At the bottom of Henris, in very small handwriting, is a phone number.

Surely they cant expect us to call?

Yes, its me, Number Four.

I am here waiting for you.

Weve been running for ten years, but please, come kill us now; we wont put up a fight. It makes no sense at all.

Is this yours? I ask.

No, he says. But it was delivered by UPS at the

same time that I got here. Your dad read it as I showed him the video, and then he sprinted out of the house.

What video? I ask.

Watch, he says.

I look at the computer and see that hes pulled up

YouTube. He presses the play button. Its a grainy video, of poor quality as though it has been shot on somebodys cell phone. I recognize his house immediately, the front of which is in flames. The camera is shaky, but through it can be heard the

dogs bark and the filtered gasps throughout the crowd. Then the person begins walking away from the crowd, to the side of the house, and eventually to the back. The camera zooms in to the rear window where the bark is coming from. The bark stops and I close my eyes because I know what is coming. About twenty seconds pass, and in the moment that I fly through the window with Sarah in one arm and the dog in the other, Mark hits the pause button on the video. The camera is zoomed in, and our faces are unmistakable.

Who are you? Mark asks.

I ignore his question, instead ask one of my own: Who took this?

I have no idea, he answers.

The gravel pops beneath the truck tires in the front of the house as Henri pulls in. I stand straight and my first instinct is to run, get out of the house and get back to the school, where I

know Sarah will be staying late to develop photos until her drivers test at four thirty. Her face is just as obvious as mine is in that video, which puts her in as much danger as me.

But something keeps me from fleeing, and I instead move around to the other side of the table and wait. The truck door slams shut. Henri walks into the house five seconds later, Bernie Kosar dashing in ahead of him.

You lied to me, he says in the doorway, his face set

hard, the muscles in his jaw flexed.

I lie to everybody, I say. I learned that from you.

We dont lie to each other! he screams.

Our eyes stay locked.

Whats going on? Mark asks.

Im not leaving without finding Sarah, I say.

Shes in danger, Henri!

He shakes his head at me. Now isnt the time for

sentimentality, John. Do you not see this? he says, and walks across the room and lifts the sheet of paper and begins waving it at me.

Where the hell do you think this came from?

What in the hell is going on? Mark nearly bellows.

I ignore the sheet and Mark, and keep my eyes on

Henris. Yes, Ive seen it, and thats why I need

to get back to the school. Theyll see her and go after her.

Henri starts towards me. After his second step I lift my hand and stop him where he stands, ten or so feet away. He tries to keep walking but I hold him in place.

We need to get out of here, John, he says, a hurt,

almost pleading tone in his voice.

While holding him at a distance, I begin walking backwards towards my bedroom. He stops trying to walk. He says nothing, standing there watching me with pain in his eyes, a look that makes me feel worse than Ive ever felt before. I have to look away. When I get to my doorway our eyes meet again. His shoulders are slumped, arms at his sides as though he doesnt know what to do with himself. He just stares at me, looking as though he may cry.

Im sorry, I say, giving myself enough of a head

start to get away, and turn and sprint across my bedroom, grab from my drawer a knife I used to scale fish when we still lived in Florida, and jump out the window and race into the woods.

Bernie Kosars bark follows, nothing else. Irun for a mile and stop in the big clearing where Sarah and Imade snow angels. Our clearing, she had called it. The clearing in which we would have our summer picnics. A pain in my chest at the

thought that I wont be here for summer, a pain so great that I bend over and grit my teeth. If only I could call her and warn her to get out of the school. My phone, along with everything else I

took to school, is in my locker. Ill get her out of harms way and then Ill get back to Henri and well leave.

I turn and run towards school, run as hard as my lungs will permit me. I reach the school just as the buses have begun pulling out of the lot. Iwatch them from the border of the woods.

At the front of the school Hobbs is standing outside the front window measuring a large sheet of plywood to cover the window I broke. I slow my breathing, try my best to clear my mind. Iwatch the cars trickle out until there are only a few left.

Hobbs covers the hole, disappears into the school. I wonder if he has been warned about me, if he has been instructed to call the police if he sees me. I look at my watch. Though it is only 3:30, the darkness seems to have come on faster than normal, a darkness steeped in density, a darkness that is heavy, consuming. The lights in the lot have come on, but even they seem dulled and stunted.

I leave the woods and walk across the baseball field and into the lot. Ten or so cars stand alone. The door to the school is already locked. I grab hold of it and close my eyes and focus and the lock clicks. I walk inside, and I dont see anyone.

Only half of the hallway lights are on. The air is still and quiet.

Somewhere I hear the floor polisher running. I turn into the lobby and the door to the photography darkroom comes into view.

Sarah. She was going to develop some pictures today before her test. I pass by my locker and open it. My phone isnt there; the locker is completely empty. Somebody, hopefully Henri, has it. By the time Ireach the darkroom I havent seen a single person. Where are the athletes, the members of

the band, the teachers who often stay late to grade papers or do whatever it is they do? A bad feeling creeps into my bones, and Im terrified that something awful has already happened to Sarah. I press my ear against the darkroom door to listen, but hear nothing aside from the drone of the floor

polisher coming from far down the hallway. I take a deep breath and try the door. Its locked. I press my ear to it again and gently knock. Theres no answer, but I hear a slight rustling on the other side. I take a deep breath, tense myself to what I

might find inside, and unlock the door.

The room is pitch-black. I turn on my lights and sweep my hands one way, then the other. I see nothing and think the room is empty, but in the corner, I see a very slight movement. I crouch

down to look, and beneath the counter, trying to remain unseen, is Sarah. I dim my lights so that she can see its me. From the shadows, she looks up and smiles, and breathes a sigh of relief.

Theyre here, arent they?

If they arent yet, they will be soon.

I help her up from off the floor and she wraps her arms around me and squeezes me so tightly that I dont think she intends to ever let go.

I came in here right after eighth period, and as soon as school ended, all these weird noises started coming from the halls. And it got really dark, so I locked myself in here and stayed beneath the counter, too scared to move. I just knew something was wrong, especially after I heard about you jumping through the window and you werent answering your phone.

That was smart, but now we have to get out of here, and fast.

We leave the room, holding hands. The hallway lights flicker off, the whole school engulfed in darkness, even though dusk is still an hour or so away. After about ten seconds, they come back on.

Whats happening? Sarah whispers.

I dont know.

We move down the hallway as quietly as we can, and any noise we do make seems deadened, muffled. The quickest way out is the back door that opens onto the teachers lot, and as we head that way, the sound of the floor polisher grows. I

assume that well run into Hobbs. I assume he knows that Im the one who broke the window. Will he fend me off with a broomstick and call the police? I guess at this point it doesnt matter.

When we reach the back hallway the lights turn off again. We stop and wait for them to come back on, but they dont. The floor polisher continues, a steady hum. I cant see it, but it is only twenty or so feet away in the impenetrable darkness. I find it odd that the machine keeps running, that Hobbs keeps polishing in the dark. I turn on my lights, and Sarah lets go of my hand and stands behind me with her hands on my hips. I find the plug in the wall first, then the cord, then the machine itself. It stands in one place, bumping against the wall, unmanned, running itself. Panic sweeps through me, with fear close behind.

Sarah and I have to get out of the school.

I rip the cord from the outlet and the polisher stops, replaced by the soft hum of silence. I turn my lights off. Somewhere far down the hall a door slowly creaks open. I crouch down, my back against the wall, Sarah holding tightly to my arm. Both of us are too scared to say a word. Instinct caused me to pull the cord to stop the polisher, and I have the urge to plug it back in, but I know itll give us away if theyre here. I close my eyes and strain to listen. The creaking door stops. A soft wind seems to materialize from nowhere. Surely there isnt a window open. I think that maybe the wind is entering from the window I broke. Then the door slams shut and glass breaks and shatters on the floor.

Sarah screams. Something sweeps by us but I dont see what it is and I dont care to find out. I pull Sarah by the hand and sprint down the hall. I shoulder the door and rush out into the parking lot. Sarah gasps and both of us stop dead in our tracks. My breath catches in my throat and chills shoot up my spine. The lights are still on but dimmed and looking ghastly in the heavy dark. Beneath the nearest light we both see it, trench coat swaying in the breeze, hat pulled low so that I cant see its eyes. It lifts his head and grins at me.

Sarahs grip tightens on my hand. We both take one step backwards and trip in our rush to get away. We move the rest of the way back in a crab walk until we hit the door.

Come on, I yell as I rush to my feet. Sarah stands. I try the latch but the door automatically locked behind us.

Shit! I yell.

I see another in the corner of my eye, standing still at first. I watch as it takes its first step towards me. There is another one behind it. The Mogadorians. All these years and they are finally here. I try to focus but my hands are shaking too badly to open

the door. I feel them bearing down, closing in. Sarah presses close to me and I can feel her trembling.

I cant focus to get the door unlocked. What happened to grace under pressure, to all those days of training in the backyard? I dont want to die, I think. I dont want to die.

John, Sarah says, and in her voice there is such fear that it causes my eyes to open wide, and twist in determination.

The lock clicks. The door opens. Sarah and I push through and I slam it shut. There is a thud on the other side as though one of them has kicked it. We run down the hall. Noises follow. I dont know if any of the Mogadorians are in the school.

Another window breaks off to the side and Sarah screams in surprise.

We have to be quiet, I say.

We try opening classroom doors but all of them are locked. I dont think there is enough time for me to open one of them.

Somewhere a door is slammed shut and I cant tell if it was ahead of us or behind us. Noises follow close behind, closing in, filling our ears. Sarah takes my hand and we run faster, my mind rushing ahead to remember the layout of the building so I can keep my lights off, keep from being seen. Finally a door opens and we fall headlong into it. Its the history classroom, at the left of the school overlooking a slight hill, and

because of the twenty-foot drop, there are bars over the windows. Darkness is pressing firmly against the glass and no light enters. I silently shut the door and hope they didnt see us. I sweep my lights across the room and quickly turn them off.

Were alone and we hide beneath the teachers desk. I try to catch my breath. Sweat runs down the sides of my face and stings my eyes. How many of them are here? I saw at least three. Surely those arent the only ones out there. Did they bring the beasts with them, the small weasels that the writers in Athens were so scared of? I wish that Henri were here, or even Bernie Kosar.

The door slowly opens. I hold my breath, listening. Sarah leans into me and we put our arms around each other. The door closes very quietly and clicks into place. No footsteps follow.

Did they merely open the door and stick their heads in to see if we were inside? Did they move on without entering? They found me after all this time; surely they arent that lazy.

What are we going to do? Sarah whispers after thirty seconds.

I dont know, Iwhisper back.

The room is wrapped in silence. Whatever opened the door must have left, or is out in the hall waiting. I know, though, the longer we sit, the more of them will arrive. We need to get out of

here. Well have to risk it. I take a deep breath.

We have to leave, I whisper. Were not safe

here.

But theyre out there.

I know, and they arent going to leave. Henri is at

home, and is in just as much danger as we are.

But how are we going to get out?

I have no idea, dont know what to say. Only one way out and thats the way we came in. Sarahs arms stay around me.

Were sitting ducks, Sarah. Theyll find us, and

when they do, it will be with all of them. At least well have the element of surprise this way. If we can get out of the school, I think I can start a car. If I cant, well have to fight our way back.

She nods in agreement.

I take a deep breath and move out from underneath the desk. I reach for Sarahs hand and she stands with me.

Together we take one step, quietly as possible. Then another. It takes a full minute to cross the room and nothing meets us in the darkness. A very slight glow comes from my hands, emitting almost no light, only enough to keep from running into a desk. I stare at the door. Ill open it and have Sarah jump on my back and Ill run as hard and as fast as I can, lights on, down the hall, out of the school and into the lot or, failing that, into the woods. I know the woods and the way home. There are

more of them, but Sarah and I will have the home-field advantage.

As we near the door, I can feel my heart pounding so hard that I fear the Mogadorians can hear it. I close my eyes and slowly reach for the knob. Sarah tenses, gripping my hand as tightly as she can. When my hand is an inch away, so close to the knob that I can feel the cold coming off of it, we are both grabbed from behind and pulled to the ground.

I try to scream but a hand covers my mouth. Fear rushes through me. I can feel Sarah struggling beneath the grip and I do the same thing but the grip is too strong. I never anticipated this, the Mogadorians being stronger than I am. Ive greatly underestimated them. There is no hope now. Ive failed.

I have failed Sarah and Henri and Im sorry. Henri, I hope you put up a better fight than I did.

Sarah is breathing heavily and with all my might I try to free myself but I cant.

Shhh, stop struggling, the voice whispers in my ear. A girls voice. Theyre out there waiting. Both of you have to be quiet.

Its a girl, every bit as strong as I am, maybe even

stronger. I dont understand. Her grip loosens and I turn and face her. We take each other in. Above the glow of my hands I see a face slightly older than mine. Hazel eyes, high cheekbones, long dark hair pulled into a ponytail, a wide mouth and strong nose, olive-toned skin.

Who are you? I ask.

She looks to the door, still silent. An ally, I think. Somebody besides the Mogadorians knows we exist. Somebody is here, to help.

I am Number Six, she says.

I tried to get here before they did.