CHAPTER 9
EVERY MUSCLE IN MY BODY IS FLEXED, EVERYTHING tense. Henri jumps through the doorway and I am ready to follow. I can feel the thud-thud-thud in my chest.
My fingers are white knuckled around the piece of wood still burning. A gust of wind bursts through the door and the fire dances in my hand and crawls up my wrist. No one is there. All at once Henri's body relaxes and he chuckles, looking down at his feet. There, looking up at Henri through the tops of his eyes, is the same beagle I saw yesterday at school. The dog wags his tail and paws at the ground. Henri reaches down and pets him; then the dog pushes past and trots into the house with his tongue dangling.
"What's he doing here?" I ask.
"You know this dog?"
"I saw him at school. He was following me around yesterday after you dropped me off."
I put the piece of wood back and wipe my hand on my jeans, leaving a trail of black ash down the front. The dog sits at my feet and looks up expectantly, his tail thumping against the hardwood floor. I sit on the couch and watch both fires burn. Now that the excitement of the situation is over, my mind goes back to what I just saw in my vision. I can still hear the screams in my ears, still see the way the blood shimmered in the grass in the moonlight, still see the bodies and fallen trees, the red glow in the eyes of the beasts of Mogadore and the terror in the eyes of the Loric.
I look at Henri. "I saw what happened. At least the beginning of it."
He nods. "I thought you might."
"I could hear your voice. Were you talking to me?"
"Yes."
"I don't understand," I say. "It was a massacre. There was too much hatred for them to only be interested in our resources. There was more to it than that."
Henri sighs and sits on the coffee table across from me. The dog jumps into my lap. I pet him. He's filthy, his coat stiff and oily under my hand.
There is a tag in the shape of a football attached to the front of his collar. It's an old tag, most of the brown paint worn away. I take it in my hand, the number 19 on one side, the name BERNIE KOSAR on the other.
"Bernie Kosar," I say. The dog wags his tail. "I guess that's his name, same as that dude in the poster on my wall. Popular guy around here, I guess." I run my hand down his back. "He doesn't seem like he has a home," I say. "And he's hungry." Somehow I can tell.
Henri nods. He looks down at Bernie Kosar. The dog stretches out, rests his chin on his paws, and closes his eyes. I flip open the lighter and hold the flame over my fingers, then my palm, then run it up the underside of my arm. Only when the flame is an inch or two away from my elbow do I feel the burn. Whatever Henri has done has worked, and my resistance has spread. I wonder how long it will take until all of me becomes resistant.
"So what happened?" I ask.
Henri takes a deep breath. "I've had those visions, too. So real it's like you're there."
"I never realized how bad it all was. I mean, I know you had told me, but I didn't truly understand it until I saw it with my own eyes."
"The Mogadorians are different than we are, secretive and manipulative, untrusting of almost everything. They have certain powers, but they're not powers like ours. They are gregarious and thrive in crowded cities. The more densely populated, the better. That is why you and I stay out of cities now, even when living in one might make it easier to blend in. It would make it a hell of a lot easier for them to blend in as well.
"About a hundred years ago Mogadore began to die, much like Lorien did twenty-five thousand years before that. They didn't respond the way we did, though--didn't understand it the way the human population is beginning to now. They ignored it. They killed their oceans and flooded their rivers and lakes with waste and sewage to keep adding to their cities. The vegetation started to die, which caused the herbivores to die, and then the carnivores weren't far behind. They knew they had to do something drastic."
Henri closes his eyes, remains silent for a full minute.
"Do you know the closest life-sustaining planet to Mogadore?" he finally asks.
"Yes, it's Lorien. Or was, I guess."
Henri nods. "Yes, it is Lorien. And I'm sure you know now that it was our resources they were after."
I nod. Bernie Kosar lifts his head and lets out a deep yawn. Henri heats a cooked chicken breast in the microwave, cuts it into strips, then carries the plate back to the couch and sets it in front of the dog. He eats with ferocity, as though he hasn't eaten in days.
"There are a large number of Mogadorians on Earth," Henri continues. "I don't know how many are here, but I can feel them when I sleep.
Sometimes I can see them in my dreams. I can never tell where they are, or what they are saying. But I see them. And I don't think the six of you are the only reason there are so many of them here."
"What do you mean? Why else would they be here?"
Henri looks me in the eye. "Do you know what the second-closest life-sustaining planet is to Mogadore?"
I nod. "It's Earth, isn't it?"
"Mogadore is double the size of Lorien, but Earth is five times the size of Mogadore. In terms of defense Earth is better prepared for an offensive because of its size. The Mogadorians will need to understand this planet better before they can attack. I can't necessarily tell you how we were defeated so easily because there's much of it I still don't understand. But I can say for sure that part of it was a combination of their knowledge of our planet and our people, and the fact that we had no defense other than our intelligence and the Garde's Legacies. Say what you will about the Mogadorians, but they are brilliant strategists when it comes to war."
We sit through another silence, the wind still roaring outside.
"I don't think they're interested in taking Earth's resources," Henri says.
I sigh and look up at him. "Why not?"
"Mogadore is still dying. Even though they've patched the more pressing matters, the planet's death is inevitable, and they know it. I think they're planning to kill the humans. I think they want to make Earth their permanent home."
I bathe Bernie Kosar after dinner, using shampoo and conditioner. I brush him with an old comb left in one of the drawers from the last tenant. He looks and smells much better, but his collar still stinks. I throw it away. Before going to bed I hold open the front door for him, but he isn't interested in going back outside. Instead he lies down on the floor and rests his chin on his front paws. I can feel his desire to stay in the house with us. I wonder if he can feel my desire for the same.
"I think we have a new pet," Henri says.
I smile. As soon as I saw him earlier I was hoping Henri would let me keep him.
"Looks like it," I say.
A half hour later I crawl into bed and Bernie Kosar jumps up with me and curls into a ball at my feet. He is snoring within minutes. I lie on my back for a while, staring into the darkness, a million different thoughts swimming in my head. Images from the war: the greedy, hungry look of the Mogadorians; the angry, hard look of the beasts; the death and the blood. I think of the beauty of Lorien. Will it again sustain life, or will Henri and I go on waiting here on Earth forever?
I try to push the thoughts and images from my mind, but they don't stay gone for very long. I get up and pace for a while. Bernie Kosar lifts his head and watches me, but then drops it and falls back to sleep. I sigh, grab my phone from the nightstand and go through it to make sure Mark James didn't mess with anything. Henri's number is still there, but it is no longer the only entry. Another number, listed under the name of "Sarah Hart" has been added.
After the last bell rang, and before coming to my locker, Sarah added her number to my phone.
I close the phone, set it on the nightstand, and smile. Two minutes pass and I check my phone again to make sure I wasn't seeing things. I wasn't. I snap it shut and set it down, only to lift it again five minutes later just to look at her number again. I don't know how long it takes to fall asleep, but I eventually do. When I wake in the morning my phone is still in my hand, resting against my chest.
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