The remaining helicopters spread apart in the sky and come at us from different angles. Pockets of sand explode all around us. One helicopter flies directly overhead, and I roll out of the way of its line of fire.
I struggle to clear my mind. It isn’t easy, but I’m getting the hang of what it takes for me to go inside my head to communicate. I take a few deep breaths and quiet my mind. Number Ten? Where are you? We’re under attack.
We can hear it, she says. We’re coming. Her thoughts are calm, with an edge of worry. It feels good just to hear it, though, to know others are on their way.
I shift around and see two black helicopters bank left and head in the opposite direction, firing missile after missile at a new target. That has to be them! I can only redirect three of the rockets, but someone else deflects the rest.
‘Ten and the rest are almost here!’ I yell down to Nine through the driver’s window. Next thing I know the gun turret on the front hood has exploded, sending hot metal flying over my head. I roll off the roof of the car just as it’s split in half by a new hail of bullets.
Nine jumps out of the car and grabs the two rifles I set in the sand by his door. ‘Looks like we’ve got a real fight on our hands. I’ve been waiting for this my whole life.’
The helicopters circle back and line up over the faraway vehicles, forming a united front. Nine lifts his palm and the lead black truck is suddenly ripped straight up in the air like a shuttle rocketing into outer space. Nine flips his hand and the car falls back down again. We can hear the men screaming from where we are. The car comes to a stop right before it hits the ground, then smashes down hard. We watch the men scramble out on shaky legs and look for somewhere to run. At the sound of the impact, Bernie Kosar, still in the form of a hawk, dives and lands behind the twisted car on the road, and transforms into a beast. The trailing vehicles swerve into the desert to avoid him, some spinning completely around. Bernie Kosar roars.
Nine ducks into the backseat of the car and throws our Chests into the sand. Opening his, he pulls out the string of green stones and the silver staff, and as he jogs backwards towards the chaos, he yells, ‘You wait for the others. BK and I will be right back!’
I shout back, ‘Don’t look like you’re having too much fun! And make sure you don’t blow up the entrance to the military base!’ A helicopter swings in from my right, and just as I yank on its nose with my mind, something rips into my left leg. I fall headfirst into the sand, blinded by pain. It feels all too familiar and I roll on the ground screaming at the top of my lungs. I know what this means. A scar is searing itself into my leg. Another member of the Garde is dead.
Everything stops. The thought of another one of us dying sweeps through my body and I’m paralyzed by grief so deep it feels like I’m sinking into the sand. There is one less soldier to reclaim Lorien, one less soldier to fight to save Earth and every living thing on it. Two missiles slam into our car, blowing it to bits.
Gunfire rains down on me and just in time my bracelet expands into a shield. I take some solace in the fact that my Inheritance is in tune with the dangers that face me – although I don’t know why it didn’t protect me from the first onslaught of gunfire. The bullets are hitting close and constant. When I finally manage to examine the new scar wrapped around my ankle, I’m shocked to see two gaping bullet wounds instead. I don’t know that I’ve ever been so happy to be wounded and bleeding. I’m so relieved that it’s not another scar that I don’t even care that my hands are covered in blood. As I apply pressure to stop the bleeding, the desert goes strangely silent. My bracelet retracts.
I manage to flip myself over and look up. Standing over me are three teenagers. The boy is tall and tan with curly black hair, and the two girls hold Loric Chests. I recognize the boy immediately from my visions. He nods and smiles, saying, ‘Nice to see you again, Number Four. I’m Eight.’ Before I can respond, he disappears.
One of the girls is short with auburn hair and tiny features. She looks no older than twelve, and I know this must be Number Ten, the Garde from the second ship. She drops the Chest and kneels by my side. The other Garde, a tall girl with shoulder-length brown hair, sets her Chest down and, without saying a word, kneels beside me as well and lays both her hands on my wounds. An iciness rushes over me and my body convulses on the desert floor. Just when I think I am about to pass out from the pain, it’s gone. I look at my ankle and see my wounds are completely healed. It’s amazing. The girl stands, offers me her hand, and pulls me to my feet.
‘That’s one hell of a Legacy you’ve got there,’ I manage to say.
‘John Smith.’ She’s staring at me and looks kind of star-struck. ‘After all this time, I can’t believe you’re standing here in front of me.’
I’m about to respond, but over her shoulder I catch sight of a missile screaming towards us. I shove the girls to the ground, falling on top of them, and a dune behind us erupts like a volcano, sending a sand cloud high over our heads. When it dissipates Eight reappears next to us.
‘Everything good here? Everyone ready to fight?’ he says.
‘Yeah, we’re good,’ the taller girl says, nodding towards my leg. Ten had said she was with Seven and Eight, so this must be Number Seven. Before I can introduce myself properly, Eight disappears for the second time.
‘He can teleport,’ says Number Ten, smiling at my look of wonder. I can hardly believe that so many of us are finally together. I smile back at her.
In the distance, I can see Eight again, fighting alongside Nine and Bernie Kosar. They wreak havoc on each approaching vehicle; flipping and disabling heavy military equipment like cheap plastic toys. Nine’s glowing red staff slices open the underside of a low-flying helicopter. Eight teleports next to a black Humvee and flips it over with his hands. Two helicopters swing low and collide into a fireball.
A new sense of urgency comes over me to get to Six as fast as I can. ‘So I’m guessing you’re Seven and Ten; what can you do?’ I say as I find our rifles in the sand and hand them each a gun.
‘You can call me Marina,’ the girl with the brown hair says. ‘And I can breathe under water and see in the dark and heal the wounded. And I have telekinesis.’
Call me Ella, I hear Ten’s voice say in my head. Aside from my telepathy, I can change ages.
‘Awesome. I’m Four, that nut job with the long black hair is Nine, and the beast is my Chimæra, Bernie Kosar.’
‘You have a Chimæra?’ Ella asks.
‘I don’t know what I’d do without him,’ I say. What’s left of the brigade finally separates, and a dozen vehicles bounce off the road and race towards the three of us. A small plume of smoke escapes from the top of one of the vehicles, and I turn the rocket it just fired around with my mind, slamming it into a sand dune. The other trucks and SUVs keep speeding ahead.
I start picking up pieces from Nine’s destroyed car and whipping them towards the oncoming brigade. I launch tires, doors, even a mangled seat at them. Marina does the same, and we’re able to stop three or four vehicles from advancing. Still, there are a half dozen or more to deal with.
Suddenly Eight, Nine and BK pop up in front of us. Eight lets go of Nine’s hand and reaches forward to shake mine. ‘Number Four.’
‘You have no idea how happy we are that you guys are here,’ I say.
Nine shakes Ten’s and Seven’s hands, and says, ‘Hello, ladies. I’m Number Nine.’