Chapter 18
THE WIND CARRIES US NORTH TO AN ALABAMA motel where we stay
two nights, again thanks to Sam using one of my identities. From there we
drive west and spend a night beneath the stars in an open field in
Oklahoma, which we follow up with two more nights in a Holiday Inn on the
outskirts of Omaha, Nebraska. And from there, for no apparent reason—at
least for no reason she’ll admit to—Six drives one thousand miles east to
rent a log cabin nestled in the mountains of the Maryland panhandle, a
mere five-minute drive to the West Virginia border, and three short hours
from the Mogadorian cave. We’re exactly 197 miles from Paradise, Ohio,
where our journey first began. Half a tank of gas from Sarah.
Before my eyes even open, I can already feel it’s going to
be a tough day, one of those days when the reality of
Henri’s death will hit me like a sledgehammer and no
matter what I do, the pain won’t leave. I’ve been having
these days more often. Days filled with remorse. Filled with
guilt. Filled with a genuine sadness to know I’ll never talk to
him again. The thought cripples me. I wish I could change it.
But as Henri once said, “Some things can never be
undone.” And then there’s Sarah, and the terrible guilt that’s
crept in since leaving Florida for allowing myself to get so
close to Six that I almost kissed her.
I take a deep breath, finally opening my eyes. The pale
morning light enters the room. Henri’s letter, I think. I have
no choice but to read it now. It’s too dangerous to delay it
any longer. Not after almost losing it in Florida.
I slip my hand beneath the pillow and remove the
diamond-bladed dagger and the letter. I’ve been keeping
both of them close to me. I stare at the envelope for a
moment, trying to imagine under what circumstances the
letter was written. Then I sigh, knowing it doesn’t really
matter and that I’m just wasting time, and with the dagger I
make a clean cut along the envelope’s seal and remove the
pages. Henri’s perfect handwriting fills five yellow legalsized
sheets with thick black ink. I take a deep breath, and
then let my eyes fall upon the top sheet.
January 19
J —
I’ve written this letter many times over the years,
never knowing whether it might be my last, but if
you’re reading this now, then surely the answer is yes.
I’m sorry, John. I truly am. We Cepans who came, our
duty was to protect you nine at all costs, including our
lives. But as I put down these words at our kitchen
table, mere hours after you saved me in Athens, I
know it’s never been duty that has kept you and me
together, but rather love that will always be a stronger
bond than any obligation. The truth is that my death
was always going to happen. The only variables were
when and how, and if it hadn’t been for you, then I
would have certainly died today. Whatever the
circumstances of my death, please don’t blame
yourself. I never expected to survive here, and when
we left Lorien all those years ago, I knew I’d never be
going back.
In the time between me writing these words and you
reading them, I wonder how much you’ve discovered.
I’m confident you now know that I kept a lot from you.
Probably more than I should have. For most of your
life I wanted you to stay focused, to train hard. I
wanted to give you as normal a life on Earth as I
could. I’m sure you’ll find that idea laughable, but to
know the full truth would have added a world of stress
during an already-stressful time.
Where to begin? Your father’s name was Liren. He
was brave and powerful, and he lived his life with
integrity and purpose. As you witnessed during your
visions of the war, he carried out these traits until the
very end, even when he knew the war was unwinnable.
And that’s about all any of us can really hope for, to
die with our dignity, to die with honor and valor. To die
knowing we did everything we could. That was the
epitome of who your father was. It’s the epitome of
who you are, too, even if you don’t necessarily
believe it.
I sit up, my back flat against the headboard, rereading
my father’s name over and over. The lump in my throat
expands into a rock. I wish Sarah was here urging me to
read on, her head on my shoulder. I focus my eyes on the
next paragraph.
When you were just a small child, your father came
around even when he wasn’t supposed to. He adored
you, and he could sit for hours watching you play in
the grass with Hadley (I wonder now, have you
discovered Bernie Kosar’s true identity?). And while
I’m sure you don’t remember much of those youthful
days, I can safely say you were a happy boy. For a
brief while, you had the sort of childhood all children
deserve, though not all receive.
While I spent considerable time with your father, I
met your mother only once. Her name was Lara and,
like your father, she was reserved and maybe even a
little shy. I tell you this now because I want you to
know who you are and who you come from. You come
from a simple family of simple means, and the truth
that I’ve always wanted to share with you is that we
didn’t leave Lorien because of where we happened to
be that day. Our being at the airfield, it wasn’t sheer
happenstance. We were there because when the
attack began, the Garde rallied together to get you
there. Many sacrificed their lives in the process.
There were supposed to be ten of you, though as you
know only nine made it off.
Tears blur my vision. I slide my fingers over my mother’s
name. Lara. Lara and Liren. I wonder what my Loric name
was, if it also started with an L. I wonder, if there wasn’t a
war, if I would have had a younger sister or brother. So
much has been taken from me.
When the ten of you were born, Lorien recognized
your strong hearts, your wills, your compassion, and
in turn she bestowed the ten of you with the roles
you’re all meant to assume: the roles of the original
ten Elders. What this means is that, in time, those of
you left will grow to be far stronger than anything
Lorien has ever seen before, far stronger even than
the original ten Elders from whom you’ve received
your Inheritances. The Mogadorians know this, which
is why they’re hunting you so feverishly now. They’ve
grown desperate and have flooded this planet with
spies. I never told you the truth because I feared it
might drive you to arrogance and that you might be
led astray, and there’s far too much danger out there
looking for you to risk that. I urge you … become
strong, grow into the role you are meant to assume,
and then find the others. Those of you left, you can
still win this war.
The last thing I have to tell you is that we didn’t
move to Paradise by chance. Your Legacies were
delayed and I had begun to worry, and when my worry
grew to a full-out panic when the third scar appeared
—knowing you are next—I decided to seek out the
one man who might hold the key to finding the others.
When we arrived on Earth there were nine humans
When we arrived on Earth there were nine humans
waiting for us who understood our situation and our
need to scatter. They were allies of the Loric, and the
last time we were here—fifteen years ago—they were
all given a transmission device that would turn itself
on only if it came into contact with one of our ships.
They were there that night to provide us guidance in
the transition from Lorien to Earth, to help us get
started. None of us had ever been here before. When
we stepped off the ship, we were each given two pairs
of clothes, a packet of instructions to help us learn
this planet’s ways, and a slip of paper with an address
on it. The addresses were a place to start, not to stay,
and none of us knew where the others were headed.
Ours led us to a small town in Northern California. It
was a nice, quiet place fifteen minutes from the coast.
I taught you to ride a bike there, and fly a kite, and
more simple things like tying your shoes, which I had
to first teach myself. We stayed six months, and then
we went about our way, as I knew we must.
The man who met you and me, our guide, was from
here, from Paradise; and I sought him because I was
desperate to know where the others first went. But
when we arrived here, the dark stars must have fallen,
because the man was already gone.
This man who met us that first day, who gave us a
cultural guide to follow and who set us up in our first
homes, his name was Malcolm Goode. Sam’s father.
What I’m telling you now, John, is that I believe
Sam was right; I believe his father was abducted. For
Sam’s sake, I can only hope he’s still alive. And if
Sam’s still with you, I ask that you tell him this
information, and I hope he finds comfort in hearing it.
Become who you’re meant to become, John. Grow
strong and powerful and never forget for a minute the
things you’ve learned along the way. Be noble,
confident, and brave. Live with the same sort of
dignity and valor that you inherited from your father,
and trust in your heart and your will, as Lorien trusts
in it still to this day. Never lose faith in yourself, and
never lose hope; remember, even when this world
throws its worst and then turns its back, there is still
always hope.
And I’m certain, someday, you’ll make it back
home.
With love,
Your Friend and Cepan,
-H
Blood pounds in my ears; and despite what Henri has
written, I know in my heart that if we’d left Paradise when
he’d wanted to, then he’d still be alive. We’d still be
together. He came to the school to save me, because it
was his duty to, and because he loved me. And now he’s
gone.
I take a deep breath, wipe my face with the back of my
hand, and then walk from my room. Despite his bad leg,
Sam insisted on taking the second floor, even when Six
and I offered to take it instead. I go up the stairs now and
knock on his door. I enter and flip his bedside lamp on, and
I see his father’s old glasses on the nightstand. Sam stirs.
“Sam? Hey, Sam. Sorry to wake you up, but there’s
some major shit you need to know.”
That gets his attention and he pulls off the blanket. “Tell
me then.”
“First, you have to promise not to get mad. I want you to
know that I had no idea of any of what I’m about to tell you
until just now. And whatever Henri’s reasons were for not
telling you to your face, you have to forgive him.”
He scoots up the mattress until his back rests on the
headboard. “Damn, John. Tell me already.”
“Promise me.”
“Fine, I promise.”
I hand him the letter. “I should have read it sooner, Sam.
I’m really sorry I didn’t.”
I leave the room and close his door to give him the
privacy he deserves. I’m not sure how he’ll react. There’s no
telling how a person will accept the answer to the question
they’ve asked most of their life, the question that’s haunted
them.
I walk down the stairs and slip out the back door with
Bernie Kosar, who runs into the forest. I sit on the top of a
picnic table. I can see my breath in the cool February air.
Darkness is pushed to the west, while the morning light
bleeds in from the east. I stare up at the half-moon and
wonder if Sarah is looking at it, or if any of the others might
be seeing it. Me and the others, the five still alive, are
meant to assume the roles of the Elders. I still don’t entirely
understand what that means. Then I close my eyes and lift
my face towards the sky. I stay that way until the door slides
open behind me. I turn, expecting to see Sam, but it’s Six.
She climbs up on the picnic table and sits next to me. I offer
her a weak smile, but she doesn’t return it.
“I heard you walk out here. Is everything okay? Did you
and Sam have a fight or something?” she asks.
“What? No. Why?”
“All I know is he’s crying on the couch downstairs and he
won’t talk to me.”
I pause before telling her. “I finally read the letter Henri left
behind. There’s some stuff about Sam he and I haven’t told
you. It’s about his dad.”
“What about his dad? Everything okay?”
I turn my body so our knees touch. “Listen. When I met
Sam in school he was pretty obsessed with the
disappearance of his dad, who just didn’t come home from
the grocery store one day. They found his truck and his
glasses on the ground next to the truck. You know those
glasses that you see him carrying around all the time?”
Six turns to look inside the back door. “Wait. Those are
his dad’s?”
“Yeah. And so the deal is that Sam is pretty convinced he
was abducted by aliens, which I always thought was crazy;
but I, I don’t know, I let him go on believing it because who
am I to crush the dude’s hope of finding his dad again? I
was waiting for Sam to tell you all this, but I just read Henri’s
letter, and you wouldn’t believe what was in there.”
“What?”
I tell her everything, about Sam’s dad being a Loric ally
who met Henri and me when the ship landed, why Henri
moved us to Paradise.
Six slides off the top of the picnic table and lands
awkwardly on the bench. “That is just so totally random that
Sam is here. In there.”
“I don’t think it is. I mean, think about it. It just so happens
that of all the people in Paradise I’m drawn to for a best
friend, it happens to be Sam? I think we were destined to
meet.”
“Maybe you’re right.”
“Pretty cool that his dad helped us that night, right?”
“The coolest. Remember when he said he had these
feelings growing inside him about being with us?”
I do. “But here’s the thing. In Henri’s letter he says that
Sam’s dad actually was abducted, or maybe even killed, by
the Mogadorians.”
We sit in silence watching the sun slowly come up over
the horizon. Bernie Kosar jogs out of the forest and rolls
onto his back to have his belly rubbed. “Hey there, Hadley.”
He flips onto his feet instantly when I say it, tilting his beagle
head. “Yeah,” I say, jumping down to scratch his chin with
both hands. “I know.” Sam walks out. His eyes are red. He
sits next to Six on the bench.
“Hi, Hadley,” Sam says to Bernie Kosar. BK barks in
response and licks his hands.
“Hadley?” Six asks.
The dog barks again in approval.
“I always knew it,” Sam says. “Always. From the day he
disappeared.”
“You were right all this time,” I say.
“Do you mind if I read the letter?” Six asks. Sam hands it
to her. I aim my right palm at the front page and turn on its
light. She reads the letter in its radiance, then folds the
pages and hands them back.
“I’m really sorry, Sam,” she says.
I add, “Henri and I wouldn’t have survived if it wasn’t for
your dad.”
Six then turns to me. “You know, it’s ridiculous that your
parents were Liren and Lara. Or it’s ridiculous I didn’t
realize that myself. Do you remember me from Lorien,
John? Your parents and my parents—their names were
Arun and Lyn—they were best friends. I know we weren’t
around our parents all that often, but I remember going to
your house a few times. You were just a toddler at the time,
I think.”
It takes me a few seconds to remember what Henri once
told me. It was the day Sarah had gotten back from
Colorado, the day we confessed being in love with one
another. After she left, Henri and I were eating dinner and
he said, Though I don’t know her number, or have any
idea where she is, one of the children who came to Earth
with us was the daughter of your parents’ best friends.
They used to joke that it was fate that the two of you would
end up together.
I almost tell Six what Henri said, but remembering how
that conversation came about because of my feelings for
Sarah brings back the same guilt I’ve felt since Six and I
went for our walk.
“Yeah, that is pretty crazy. I don’t really remember it,
though,” I say.
“Regardless, this is some heavy stuff about the Elders
and how we’re supposed to assume their roles. No wonder
the Mogs are so relentless,” she says.
“Definitely makes sense.”
“We have to go back to Paradise,” Sam interrupts.
“Yeah, right.” Six laughs. “What we need to do is find the
others somehow. We need to get back on that laptop. Train
some more.”
Sam stands. “No, I’m serious, guys. We have to go back.
If my dad left something behind, that transmission device, I
think I know how to find it. When I was seven, he told me
that my future was mapped on the sundial. I would ask him
what he was talking about, and he’d just say that if the dark
stars ever fell, I was supposed to find the Ennead and read
the map by my birth date on the sundial.”
“What’s an Ennead?” I ask.
“It’s a group of nine deities in Egyptian mythology.”
“Nine?” Six asks. “Nine deities?”
“And what sundial?” I ask.
“It’s starting to make sense to me now,” Sam says. He
“It’s starting to make sense to me now,” Sam says. He
begins walking around the picnic table as he puts it
together in his head, Bernie Kosar nipping at his heels. “I
used to get so frustrated because he was always saying all
this weird stuff that only he understood. A few months
before he disappeared, my dad dug a well in our backyard
and he said it would collect the rainwater from the gutters
and whatever; but after the concrete was poured, he put this
elaborate-looking sundial on the stone lid. Then he stood
looking down at the well and he said to me. ‘Your future’s
mapped on the sundial, Sam.’”
“And you never checked it out?” I ask.
“Sure I did. I twisted the sundial around, trying my date
and time of birth and a few other things, but nothing ever
happened. I thought it was just a stupid well with a sundial
on it after a while. But now that I read Henri’s letter, the part
about the dark stars, I know that it has to be some kind of
clue to all this. It’s like he told me without telling me,” Sam
beams. “He was so smart.”
“So are you,” I say. “This could very well be suicide, us
going back to Paradise, but I don’t think we have much of a
choice now.”
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