United as One
Page 90
Walker nods, turns and heads towards the headlights of the convoy. Soon those headlights become taillights, and then we’re alone in the dark field.
Me and Sam. Malcolm and Lexa. John and Bernie Kosar. Nine. Marina and Ella. Five. I’m the one to break the silence.
“Let’s go win this war.”
Yet again Lexa flies us north to Niagara Falls. The ride is quiet and somber, everyone too tired, or too much in their own head, to say much. John falls asleep for what must be the first time in days, Marina next to him, her eyes drawn to the wound on his neck that defies her healing ability. Five chooses not to ride in the ship but rather fly alongside it, a decision I think everyone is grateful for.
Sam and Malcolm use the time to call Sam’s mom. It’s a tearful conversation, one that I try not to eavesdrop on. Across the aisle from me, Nine catches my eye.
“Must be nice to have people to say good-bye to, huh?” he says quietly.
I frown. “Nobody’s saying good-bye to anyone, Nine.”
“Come on, Six. You really think that’s true?”
When we reach Niagara Falls, Adam and Rex have just finished preparing our deliveries. The two Mogs have packed heavy-duty backpacks—courtesy of the Canadians—with cloaking devices picked clean from our stolen warship’s Skimmers. Into those packs we divide the cell phones and gadgets that Sam has talked into copying the cloaking devices signals.
Nine eyeballs Rex. “If I double-check these bags, am I going to discover you, like, sabotaged some of the merchandise?”
Rex runs a hand through his short black hair, uncertain how to respond. Adam steps forward.
“Enough already, Nine,” he says. “Rex is solid. We can trust him.”
“All this, it feels like throwing pebbles at a god,” Rex says quietly, surveying the backpacks. “I only hope it’s enough to make Beloved Leader fall. That . . . that would be something to see.”
“Well, at least he’s optimistic,” Nine says dryly.
All told, each pack has roughly thirty cloaking devices. One pack per war zone.
“Will it be enough?” Marina asks.
“It has to be,” John replies.
Ella directs traffic. She knows the locations of the Loralite stones, the new outcroppings that have blossomed from the earth since we released the Entity. According to Lawson, there should be people waiting at each spot to take our deliveries. From there it’s up to them how they use the cloaking devices. I hope they’ve got solid plans.
“You just need to picture the place you’re going,” Ella explains as we stand in a semicircle around the Niagara Falls stone, the dull-blue glow it emits the only light. “If you have trouble, I can help . . . put an image in your mind. When I was bonded with Legacy, I saw all the stones simultaneously, so I know what their surroundings look like.”
“That’s good,” Sam says, glancing down at the list of locations. “Lion’s Head is a place and not a, uh, actual lion’s head, right?”
Ella looks up at him. “I’ll help you, Sam. Don’t worry.”
Nine raises his hand. “If we do picture an actual lion’s head . . .”
“No,” Ella finishes his thought. “You will not teleport onto a lion.”
I allow myself a brittle smile. They’re joking around; in the face of everything that’s happened, they can still do that.
“Let’s get this done,” John says briskly.
We break up into teams of two to make the deliveries. Nine and Marina. Me and Sam. Since no one wants to pair up with Five and no one wants to be left behind with him, John agrees to go with him. The rest of our group stays behind. Adam and Rex take Malcolm onto the warship to show him some of the controls, hoping that he can help pilot the massive thing when our attack on West Virginia comes.
“Ready?” Sam asks.
“Ready,” I reply, and, holding hands, the backpack of cloaking devices slung over Sam’s shoulder, we touch the Loralite stone and focus on a mental image that Ella telepathically sends to us.
A warm glow of energy washes over us, and a second later we’re both shielding our eyes. It’s early morning in South Africa, and we’re standing on the summit of Lion’s Head mountain. There are man-made cobbles set up here that intersect with manicured gardens—a place for tourists to take pictures. The Loralite stone juts up from right beneath them, cracking the cobbles and displacing the plants. The view here is breathtaking and dizzying. We’re level with the clouds. If I turn to my left, I see crystal-blue ocean, the sun streaking golden across the waves. If I turn to my right, I see the crowded white buildings of Cape Town.
Me and Sam. Malcolm and Lexa. John and Bernie Kosar. Nine. Marina and Ella. Five. I’m the one to break the silence.
“Let’s go win this war.”
Yet again Lexa flies us north to Niagara Falls. The ride is quiet and somber, everyone too tired, or too much in their own head, to say much. John falls asleep for what must be the first time in days, Marina next to him, her eyes drawn to the wound on his neck that defies her healing ability. Five chooses not to ride in the ship but rather fly alongside it, a decision I think everyone is grateful for.
Sam and Malcolm use the time to call Sam’s mom. It’s a tearful conversation, one that I try not to eavesdrop on. Across the aisle from me, Nine catches my eye.
“Must be nice to have people to say good-bye to, huh?” he says quietly.
I frown. “Nobody’s saying good-bye to anyone, Nine.”
“Come on, Six. You really think that’s true?”
When we reach Niagara Falls, Adam and Rex have just finished preparing our deliveries. The two Mogs have packed heavy-duty backpacks—courtesy of the Canadians—with cloaking devices picked clean from our stolen warship’s Skimmers. Into those packs we divide the cell phones and gadgets that Sam has talked into copying the cloaking devices signals.
Nine eyeballs Rex. “If I double-check these bags, am I going to discover you, like, sabotaged some of the merchandise?”
Rex runs a hand through his short black hair, uncertain how to respond. Adam steps forward.
“Enough already, Nine,” he says. “Rex is solid. We can trust him.”
“All this, it feels like throwing pebbles at a god,” Rex says quietly, surveying the backpacks. “I only hope it’s enough to make Beloved Leader fall. That . . . that would be something to see.”
“Well, at least he’s optimistic,” Nine says dryly.
All told, each pack has roughly thirty cloaking devices. One pack per war zone.
“Will it be enough?” Marina asks.
“It has to be,” John replies.
Ella directs traffic. She knows the locations of the Loralite stones, the new outcroppings that have blossomed from the earth since we released the Entity. According to Lawson, there should be people waiting at each spot to take our deliveries. From there it’s up to them how they use the cloaking devices. I hope they’ve got solid plans.
“You just need to picture the place you’re going,” Ella explains as we stand in a semicircle around the Niagara Falls stone, the dull-blue glow it emits the only light. “If you have trouble, I can help . . . put an image in your mind. When I was bonded with Legacy, I saw all the stones simultaneously, so I know what their surroundings look like.”
“That’s good,” Sam says, glancing down at the list of locations. “Lion’s Head is a place and not a, uh, actual lion’s head, right?”
Ella looks up at him. “I’ll help you, Sam. Don’t worry.”
Nine raises his hand. “If we do picture an actual lion’s head . . .”
“No,” Ella finishes his thought. “You will not teleport onto a lion.”
I allow myself a brittle smile. They’re joking around; in the face of everything that’s happened, they can still do that.
“Let’s get this done,” John says briskly.
We break up into teams of two to make the deliveries. Nine and Marina. Me and Sam. Since no one wants to pair up with Five and no one wants to be left behind with him, John agrees to go with him. The rest of our group stays behind. Adam and Rex take Malcolm onto the warship to show him some of the controls, hoping that he can help pilot the massive thing when our attack on West Virginia comes.
“Ready?” Sam asks.
“Ready,” I reply, and, holding hands, the backpack of cloaking devices slung over Sam’s shoulder, we touch the Loralite stone and focus on a mental image that Ella telepathically sends to us.
A warm glow of energy washes over us, and a second later we’re both shielding our eyes. It’s early morning in South Africa, and we’re standing on the summit of Lion’s Head mountain. There are man-made cobbles set up here that intersect with manicured gardens—a place for tourists to take pictures. The Loralite stone juts up from right beneath them, cracking the cobbles and displacing the plants. The view here is breathtaking and dizzying. We’re level with the clouds. If I turn to my left, I see crystal-blue ocean, the sun streaking golden across the waves. If I turn to my right, I see the crowded white buildings of Cape Town.
