“You can come with us,” I say. “But you should know, the guy we’re going after is extremely dangerous.”
“Unhinged,” Sam adds.
“He’s already killed one of us,” I continue. “And I don’t think he’ll hesitate to do it again. When we’re done with him, our friend Agent Walker here is going to get us on a plane somehow, and we’re going to find a way to kill the Mogadorian in charge before his invasion goes any further.”
“You trying to scare me off?” Daniela asks, hands on her hips.
“I just want you to know what you’re in for,” I reply. “Along the way, I can try to help you with your telekinesis. Maybe figure out what else you can do. But you’ve gotta be up for it . . .”
Daniela looks over her shoulder. I realize that, more than anything, she wants to get out of here. She wants to keep busy and avoid confronting the very real possibility that she lost her entire family during the attack on New York.
“I’m in,” she says. “Let’s save the world and shit.”
Sam grins and I can’t help but smile a little bit too, especially when I notice Agent Walker rolling her eyes. With Daniela incorporated into our little bubble of secret agents, we continue on to the pier.
“Hey,” Sam says to Daniela, keeping his voice low. “Just so you know, the Mogs were taking prisoners in New York. They weren’t, like, killing everything that moved.”
“Yeah, I saw them pull that shit in my neighborhood,” Daniela replies. “So what?”
“So, just because she’s not here doesn’t mean your mom’s . . . you know.”
“Yeah. Thanks.” Daniela says this gruffly, but I think she actually means it.
The coast guard boat is ready and waiting for us, a chain-smoking captain in a wrinkled uniform prepared to take us wherever we need to go. I let Walker fill him in and a few minutes later we’re off, bouncing hard over the waves. Across the water, I can see flashing lights from the New Jersey side, helicopters bobbing in and out of view. Looks like the military set up a perimeter over there too, really trying to make sure the Mogadorians stay contained in Manhattan. I look towards the city and find the place frighteningly calm. There are still Mogs there, I’m sure, patrolling the streets and maybe setting up a stronghold. I hope most of the residents managed to make it across the bridge and, if not, then I hope Sam’s right about the Mogs keeping them as prisoners instead of killing them. That means they can still be saved.
As Liberty Island grows larger in front of us, Daniela nudges me in the ribs.
“You’re meeting this dude at the Statue of Liberty?” she asks.
“Yeah.”
“Man, that’s some real tourist shit.”
Pretty soon, we pull up at the Liberty Island docks. A half dozen ferry boats float there, empty, one of them with scorch marks along its side. The entire place is deserted; no one’s spending the invasion checking out the Statue of Liberty. It’s almost peaceful here. As we hop out of the boat, I try to get the lay of the land. I force myself to think like Five, wondering where the best place for an ambush would be.
I have to tilt my head up to take in the statue. We’re coming at her from the side holding the book. The gold-plated torch gleams in what’s left of the daylight. The big green lady sits atop a huge granite pedestal that in turn sits atop an even bigger stone base that takes up almost half the island. To the right, there’s a small park that looks perfectly maintained. He won’t be hiding in the park—that’s just not how Five operates.
The boat captain stays behind, but the rest of us stride along the dock towards the statue. I think about when I first met Five, how he picked some creepy monster monument in the backwoods to reveal himself. I guess the guy has a thing for landmarks. Or maybe that crummy wooden monster statue was a clue, a stand-in for the monster hiding inside Five. If that’s the case, I wonder what his choice of the Statue of Liberty means. Probably nothing, I think, reminding myself that Five’s a total nutcase.
Next to me, Daniela snickers. “You know, I’ve never actually been here. Lived in the city my whole life.”
“Yeah, it’s like a field trip,” Sam says. “A field trip where at the end a dude made of solid steel tries to stab you to death.”
“No one’s getting stabbed to death,” I say.
As we enter the plaza that stretches around the statue’s base, I keep my gaze centered on the upper pedestal. That’s where I’ve decided Five is most likely to be. He can fly, so it’d be easy for him to reach that area, and it would allow him to keep an eye out for our arrival. I don’t see any movement up there, though. Maybe he isn’t here yet. Or maybe he’s hiding inside the statue. I crane my neck more, trying to glimpse inside the statue’s crown, but it’s impossible. We’ll have to go inside to make sure the statue is clear.
“Look,” Sam says, lowering his voice. “Over there.”
I turn my head to the left, towards the perfectly sculpted lawn that stretches out from the statue’s foundation. There’s movement. A glittering shape slowly stands up from the grass and takes a faltering step in our direction. I was looking in the wrong place.
“You’re early,” Five calls. “Good.”
To say Five looks messed up would be an understatement. His clothes look like they’ve gone through a thresher—ripped, bloodstained and caked with dirt and ash. His skin is a silvery steel, making me think that he’s ready to fight, even though it looks like he can barely stand up. His features look swollen and out of place despite their metallic coating, his nose crooked, and there are visible dents in the side of his shaved head. He’s hunched over, one arm dangling uselessly at his side. His other arm wears that wrist-mounted blade of his. The day’s fading sunlight glints off his skin.
Immediately, Walker and her team fan out, flanking Five. They’ve got their guns leveled at him. Daniela goes the opposite way, taking a step behind me.
“Uh, you should’ve described this rogue dude better,” she says.
Five takes a look at Walker’s agents and sneers. Even though he looks worn-out, having a bunch of guns pointed at him seems to rekindle his intense temper. His remaining eye tweaks open wider and he stands up straighter.
“Don’t make me laugh with this shit,” Five says to Walker, then turns towards Agent Murray when the man chambers a round. “I’m bulletproof, bitch. Come on, I dare you.”
There’s something weird about Five’s voice. It sounds tinny and raspy, almost like he’s having trouble breathing.
The agents are smart enough not to get too close. I know how fast Five is, though. If he wanted to come at one of them, he’d be able to close the gap in a second or two with his flight. I stride forward onto the grass, hoping to get his attention on me before he does anything crazy. Sam stays right at my side, Daniela a few steps behind. That’s when I notice the lumpy shape in the grass next to Five. It’s one of those blue plastic construction tarps wrapped around what is obviously a body, all of that tightly bound together by thick coils of industrial-strength chain.
That must be Nine.
“Give him to me,” I say to Five, not wasting any time.
Five looks down at the body and it’s almost like he’d forgotten it was there.
“Sure, John,” Five replies.
Five bends down and hooks his hands through the chains. He hoists up Nine’s body and grimaces. He’s hurt and tired, and I can tell this show is taxing him more than he counted on. With an animal grunt, Five tosses the body across the thirty yards that separates us. I catch Nine in midair with my telekinesis and lower him gently to the ground. Immediately, I rip off the chains and unroll the tarp.
Nine lies unconscious in the grass in front of me. His clothes are in as bad a condition as Five’s and his injuries are similarly gruesome. There are blaster burns on his arms and chest, one of his hands is broken like something crushed it and there’s a bad gash on his head. It’s that last thing that really worries me. Blood soaks through Nine’s mane of dark hair—a lot of it—and his eyes don’t open when I gently slap his cheek.