CHAPTER 33
THE HAZY IMAGE SHARPENS. THROUGH THE exhaustion and pain and fear, a smile comes to my face, coupled with a sense of relief. Henri. He throws the
shotgun into the bushes and drops to one knee beside me. He face is bloodied, his shirt and jeans in tatters, cuts down the length of both arms and on his
neck, and beyond that I see that his eyes are fear-stricken from what he sees in mine.
"Is it over?" I ask.
"Shhh," he says. "Tell me, have you been stabbed by one of their daggers?"
"My back," I say.
He closes his eyes and shakes his head. He reaches into his pocket and removes one of the small round stones I watched him grab from the
Loric Chest before we left the home-ec room. His hands are shaking.
"Open your mouth," he says. He inserts one of the stones. "Keep it under your tongue. Don't swallow it." He hefts me up with his hands beneath my
armpits. I get to my feet and he keeps an arm on me while I regain balance. He turns me around to look at the gash on my back. My face feels warm. A
sort of rejuvenation blooms through me from the stone. My limbs still ache with exhaustion, but enough strength has returned so that I'm able to function.
"What is this?"
"Loric salt. It'll slow and numb the dagger's effects," he says. "You'll feel a burst of energy, but it won't last long and we have to get back to the
school as quickly as we can."
The pebble is cold in my mouth, tastes nothing like salt--tastes like nothing at all, actually. I look down and take inventory, and then brush off with my
hands the ashen residue left from the fallen beast.
"Is everyone okay?" I ask.
"Six has been badly hurt," he says. "Sam is carrying her back to the truck as we speak; then he is going to drive to the school to pick us up. That's
why we have to get back there."
"Have you seen Sarah?"
"No."
"Mark James was just here," I say, and look at him. "I thought you were him."
"I didn't see him."
I look past Henri at the dog. "Bernie Kosar," I say. He is still shrinking, the scales fading away--tan, black, and brown hair taking their place--
returning to the form in which I have known him most recently: floppy ears, short legs, long body. A beagle with a cold wet nose always ready to run. "He
just saved my life. You knew, didn't you?"
"Of course I knew."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because he watched over you when I couldn't."
"But how is he here?"
"He was on the ship with us."
And then I remember what I thought was a stuffed animal that used to play with me. It was really Bernie Kosar I was playing with, though back then
his name was Hadley.
We walk to the dog together. I crouch down and run my hand along Bernie Kosar's side.
"We have to hurry," Henri says again.
Bernie Kosar isn't moving. The woods are alive, swarming with shadows that can only mean one thing, but I don't care. I move my head to the
dog's rib cage. Ever so faintly I hear the th-tump of his beating heart. Some glimmer of life is still left. He is covered in deep cuts and gashes, and blood
seems to seep from everywhere. His front leg is twisted at an unnatural angle, broken. But he is still alive. I lift him as gently as I can, cradling him like a
child in my arms. Henri helps me up, then reaches into his pocket, grabs another salt pebble, and plops it into his own mouth. It makes me wonder if he
was talking about himself when he said there was little time. Both of us are unsteady. And then something catches my eye in Henri's thigh. A wound
glowing navy blue through the gathering blood around it. He's also been stabbed by a soldier's knife. I wonder if the salt pebble is the only reason he's
now standing, as it is for me.
"What about the shotgun?" I ask.
"I'm out of ammo."
We walk out of the clearing, taking our time. Bernie Kosar doesn't move in my arms but I can feel that life hasn't left him. Not yet. We exit the
woods, leaving behind us the overhanging branches and bushes and the smell of wet and rotting leaves.
"Do you think you can run?" Henri asks.
"No," I say. "But I'll run anyway."
Up ahead of us we hear a great commotion, several grunts followed by clanking of chains.
And then we hear a roar, not quite as sinister as the others, but loud enough so that we know it can only mean one thing: another beast.
"You're kidding me," Henri says.
Twigs snap behind us, coming from the woods. Henri and I both twist around, but the woods are too dense to see. I snap the light on in my left
hand and sweep it through the trees to see. There must be seven or eight soldiers standing at the entrance of the woods, and when my light hits them they
all draw their swords, which come alive, glowing their various colors the second they do.
"No!" Henri yells. "Don't use your Legacies; it'll weaken you."
But it's too late. I snap the light off. Vertigo and weakness return, then the pain. I hold my breath and wait for the soldiers to come charging at us.
But they don't. There follows no sound aside from the obvious struggle happening straight ahead of us. Then an uproar of yells behind us. I turn to look.
The glowing swords begin swaggering forward from forty feet away. A confident laugh comes from one of the soldiers. Nine of them armed and full of
strength versus three of us broken and battered and armed with nothing more than our valor. The beast one way, the soldiers the other. That is the choice
that we now face.
Henri seems unfazed. He removes two more pebbles from his pocket and hands one to me.
"The last two," he says, his voice shaky as though it requires a great effort just to speak.
I plop the new pebble into my mouth and bury it beneath my tongue despite a small bit of the first still remaining. Renewed strength rushes through
me.
"What do you think?" he asks me.
We are surrounded. Henri and Bernie Kosar and I are the only three left. Six badly hurt and carried away by Sam. Mark just here but now nowhere
to be found. And that leaves Sarah, who I pray is tucked away safely in the school that lies a tenth of a mile ahead of us. I take a deep breath and I accept
the inevitable.
"I don't think it matters, Henri," I say, and look at him. "But the school is ahead of us, and that is where Sam will be shortly."
What he does next catches me off guard: he smiles. He reaches his hand out and gives my shoulder a squeeze. His eyes are tired and red but in
them I see relief, a sense of serenity as though he knows it's all about to end.
"We've done all we could. And what's done is done. But I'm damn proud of you," he says. "You did amazing today. I always knew you would. There
was never a doubt in my mind."
I drop my head. I don't want him to see me cry. I squeeze the dog. For the first time since I grabbed him he shows a slight sign of life, lifting his
head just enough so that he can lick the side of my face. He passes one word to me and one word only, as if that is all his strength will allow. Courage, he
says.
I lift my head. Henri steps forward and hugs me. I close my eyes and bury my face in his neck. He is still shaking, his body frail and weak beneath
my grip. I'm sure mine is no stronger. So this is it, I think. With our heads held high we will walk across the field to whatever awaits there. At least there is
dignity in that.
"You did damn good," he says.
I open my eyes. From over his shoulder I see the soldiers are near, twenty feet away now. They have stopped walking. One of them is holding a
dagger that pulsates silver and gray. The soldier tosses it in the air, catches it, and hurls it at Henri's back. I lift my hand and deflect it away and it misses
by a foot. My strength leaves me almost immediately even though the pebble is only half dissolved.
Henri takes my free arm and drapes it over his shoulders and places his right arm around my waist. We stagger forward. The beast comes into
view, looming just ahead in the center of the football field. The Mogadorians follow behind us. Perhaps they are curious to see the beast in action, to see
the beast kill. Each step I take becomes more of an effort than the one that preceded it. My heart thuds in my chest. Death is forthcoming and of that I am
terrified. But Henri is here. And so is Bernie Kosar. I'm happy not to have to face it alone. Several soldiers stand on the other side of the beast. Even if we
could get past the beast, we would then have to walk straight into the soldiers, who stand with drawn swords.
We have no choice. We reach the field and I expect the beast to pounce at any moment. But nothing happens. When we are within fifteen feet of it
we stop. We stand leaning against each other for support.
The beast is half the size of the other but still big enough to kill us all with no great effort of its own. Pale, almost translucent skin stretched over
protruding ribs and knobby joints. Various pinkish scars down its arms and sides. White, sightless eyes. It shifts it weight and lowers itself, then swings its
head low over the grass to smell what its eyes fail to see. It can sense us in front of it. It lets out a low groan. I feel none of the rage and malice that the
other beasts radiated, no desire for blood and death. There is a sense of fear, a sense of sadness. I open myself to it. I see images of torture and
starvation. I see the beast locked up for all its life here on Earth, a damp cave where little light reaches. Shivering through the night to stay warm, always
cold and wet. I see the way the Mogadorians pit the beasts against one another, force them to fight in order to train, to toughen them and make them
mean.
Henri lets go of me. I can't hold Bernie Kosar any longer. I gently place him in the grass at my feet. I haven't felt him move in minutes and I can't tell
if he's still alive. I take one step forward and drop to my knees. The soldiers yell around us. I don't understand their language but I can tell by their tones that
they are impatient. One swings his sword and a dagger just misses me, a flash of white that flutters and tears the front of my shirt. I stay on my knees and I
look up at the beast hovering over me. Some weapon is fired but it sails over our heads. A warning shot, meant to move the beast to action. The beast
quivers. A second dagger darts through the air and hits the beast below the elbow of its left arm. It lifts its head and roars in pain.
I am sorry, I try to tell it. I am sorry for the life you've been forced to live. You've been wronged. No living creature deserves such treatment.
You've been forced to endure hell, plucked from your own planet to fight a war that isn't yours. Beaten and tortured and starved. The blame for all the
pain and agony you've experienced lies with them. You and I share a common bond. Both wronged by these monsters.
I try with everything to pass along my own images, the things that I've seen and felt. The beast doesn't look away. My thoughts, on some level, are
reaching it. I show it Lorien, the vast ocean and thick forests and verdant hills teeming with life and vitality. Animals drinking from the cold blue waters. A
proud people content to pass the days in harmony. I show it the hell that followed, the slaying of men, women, and children. The Mogadorians. Coldblooded
murderers. Draconian killers destroying all that lies within their path due to their own recklessness and pathetic beliefs. Destroying even their
own planet. Where does it end? I show it Sarah, show it every emotion that I've ever felt with her. Happiness and bliss, this is how I feel with her. And this is
the pain I feel in having to leave her, all because of them. Help me, I say. Help me end this death and slaughter. Let us fight together. I have so little left
but if you stand with me, I'll stand with you.
The beast lifts its head to the sky and it roars. A roar both long and deep. The Mogadorians can sense what is happening and have seen enough.
Their weapons begin firing. I look over and one of the cannons is aimed right at me. It fires and the white death surges forth, but the beast drops its head
in time and absorbs the shot instead. Its face twists in pain, its eyes squeeze tightly shut, but almost immediately they snap back open. This time I see the
rage.
I fall face-first in the grass. I'm grazed by something but I don't see what it is. Henri cries out in pain behind me and he is flung thirty feet away, his
body lying in the mud, face up, smoking. I have no idea what has hit him. Something big and deadly. Panic and fear hit me. Not Henri, I think. Please not
Henri.
The beast throws a hard sweeping blow that takes out several of the soldiers and quiets many of their guns. Another roar. I look up and see the
beast's eyes have turned red, ablaze with fury. Retribution. Mutiny. It looks my way once and swiftly rushes off to follow its captors. Guns blaze but many of
them are quick to be silenced. Kill them all, I think. Fight nobly and honorably and may you kill them all.
I lift my head. Bernie Kosar is motionless in the grass. Henri, thirty feet away, is motionless as well. I place a hand in the grass and pull myself
forward, across the field, inch by inch, dragging myself to Henri. When I get there his eyes are open slightly; each breath is a fight. Trails of blood run from
his mouth and nose. I take him into my arms and I pull him into my lap. His body is frail and weak and I can feel him dying. His eyes flutter open. He looks
at me and lifts his hand and presses it to the side of my face. The second he does I begin to cry.
"I'm here," I say.
He tries to smile.
"I'm so sorry, Henri." I say. "I'm so sorry. We should have left when you wanted to."
"Shh," he says. "It's not your fault."
"I'm so sorry," I say between sobs.
"You did great," he says in a whisper. "You did so great. I always knew you would."
"We have to get you to the school," I say. "Sam could be there."
"Listen to me, John. Everything," he says. "Everything you need to know, it's all in the Chest. The letter."
"It's not over. We can still make it."
I can feel him begin to go. I shake him. His eyes reluctantly reopen. A trail of blood runs from his mouth.
"Coming here, to Paradise, it wasn't by chance." I don't know what he means. "Read the letter."
"Henri," I say, and reach down and wipe the blood off his chin.
He looks me in the eye.
"You are Lorien's Legacy, John. You and the others. The only hope the planet has left. The secrets," he says, and is gripped by a fit of coughs.
More blood. His eyes close again. "The Chest, John."
I pull him more tightly to me, squeezing him. His body is going slack. Breaths so shallow that they are hardly breaths at all.
"We'll make it back together, Henri. Me and you, I promise," I say, and close my eyes.
"Be strong," he says, and is overtaken by slight coughs, though he tries to speak through them. "This war...Can win...Find the others.... Six.... The
power of...," he says, and trails off.
I try to stand with him in my arms but I have nothing left, hardly enough strength to even breathe. Off in the distance I hear the beast roar. Cannons
are still being fired, the sounds and lights of which reach out over the stadium bleachers, but as each minute passes less and less of them are being fired
until there is only one. I lower Henri in my arms. I place my hand to the side of his face and he opens his eyes and looks at me for what I know will be the
final time. He takes a weak breath and exhales and then slowly closes his eyes.
"I wouldn't have missed a second of it, kiddo. Not for all of Lorien. Not for the whole damn world," he says, and when that last word leaves his
mouth I know that he is gone. I squeeze him in my arms, shaking, crying, despair and hopelessness taking hold. His hand drops lifelessly to the grass. I
cup his head in my hand and hold it close to my chest, and I rock him back and forth and I cry like I've never cried before. The pendant around my neck
glows blue, grows heavy for just a split second, and then dims to normal.
I sit in the grass and I hold Henri while the last cannon falls silent. The pain leaves my own body and with the cold of the night I feel my own self
begin to fade. The moon and the stars shine overhead. I hear a cackle of laughter carried on the wind. My ears attune to it. I turn my head. Through the
dizziness and blurry vision I see a scout fifteen feet away from me. Long trench coat, hat pulled to its eyes. It drops the coat and takes off the hat to reveal
a pale and hairless head. It reaches to the back of its belt and removes a bowie knife, the blade of which is no less than twelve inches long. I close my
eyes. I don't care anymore. The scout's raspy breathing comes my way, ten feet, then five. And then the footsteps end. The scout grunts in pain, and
begins gurgling.
I open my eyes, the scout so close that I can smell it. The bowie knife falls from its hand, and there in its chest, where I assume its heart must be, is
the end of a butcher's knife. The knife is pulled free. The scout drops to its knees, falls to its side, and explodes into a puff of ash. Behind it, holding the
knife in her shaky right hand, with tears in her eyes, stands Sarah. She drops the knife and rushes over to me, wrapping her arms around me with my
arms around Henri. I hold Henri as my own head falls and the world dims away into nothingness. The aftermath of war, the school destroyed, the trees
fallen and heaps of ash piled in the grass of the football field and I still hold Henri. And Sarah holds me.
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