I Am Number Four: The Lost Files: Last Defense(13)

I whistle.

It’s a reflex—in my panic I’d forgotten all about my bodyguard, but some primal part of my consciousness must realize that whistling is the only thing that will save me now. Gamera descends in a split second, obviously having been waiting in the trees for his moment to strike, moving so fast that I wonder if he was already in the air when I whistled. He takes the form of a panther, intercepting the Mog beast in midair, gnashing sharp teeth around its one good leg.

“What the hell is going on?” Lujan shouts, aiming his gun at the animals fighting tooth and nail in front of him.

“Don’t! The cat’s with me!”

He looks at me in confusion. That’s when a blaster shot hits him in the stomach. He groans, clutching his gut as his knees hit the ground.

“Shit!” Briggs shouts. He starts forward, but there’s a tangle of beasts between us and Lujan, not to mention half a dozen Mogs still firing at anything that moves.

“Gamera!”

I don’t know how much the Chim?rae understand anyone who’s not a Garde, but the panther looks my way, ripping off the monster’s good leg as he does so. I point towards where the blaster fire is coming from in the trees.

“Attack.”

He must understand some of that, because suddenly he’s a bird shooting overhead. Moments later I hear a roar, followed by the sound of a Mogadorian scream. It only lasts for a few seconds before going silent.

I take a few steps forward, sticking to the trees for cover. When I’m close to the Mog beast, it roars at me, struggling to get up using only its arms.

I raise my pistol and fire over and over again. Each bullet finds a home in the bastard’s head. Dark, viscous mucus spurts onto the trees and grass behind it. After a few seconds my pistol starts to click again.

The monster falls to the grass. Lifeless. Then it slowly starts to dissolve, until it’s nothing but a pile of ash.

Despite being in a shootout with invaders who’ve come to take my planet, I can’t help but feel exhilaration every time one of them turns to dust.

Maybe I’m not so useless after all.

“Dammit, I’m almost out of ammo,” Briggs says.

That’s when I realize all the blaster fire has stopped.

Gamera darts out of the trees, back in the form of a black panther, his gleaming coat covered in ash.

“Holy Jesus,” Briggs keeps repeating. “What’s happening?”

I don’t get to answer. Lujan’s groaning in front of me, clutching his stomach. There’s smoke rising from holes in his chest. He must have been hit a few times when we weren’t looking. There’s blood everywhere.

I kneel beside him, but it’s too late. He points in the direction of Union Station and then his breathing stops. All I can do is close his eyes and mutter an apology that he got dragged into this, telling myself that he’ll be the last casualty of this war, even though of course I know that’s not true.

“He’s . . . ,” Briggs says.

I nod my head.

“This thing . . . ,” He aims his rifle at Gamera, who stalks the trees around me, sniffing the air. “This . . . this animal . . . it’s an alien too?”

“That animal is on our side. He just saved our lives.”

Briggs steps across from me, not taking his eyes off Gamera until he’s standing over Lujan. There’s a flash of remorse on his face.

“We need to get to the station,” he says quietly. “That gunfire probably alerted every hostile within half a mile. They’ll be here in no time.”

“What do we do with his body?” I ask.

Briggs just shakes his head.

“He’d want to make sure the mission was completed.”

I understand where he’s coming from, but the colonel lost his life trying to get me to the president. I can’t just leave him here, out in the open. So I drag Lujan to a dense thicket of bushes nearby and try to hide him as best I can. It’s all I can think of. I tell myself that when we get to wherever we’re going I might be able to send someone to get his body, but in the back of my mind I know that there are much more important things to worry about.

I don’t realize how shaky my hands are until I put him down. Despite all the fighting I’ve been a part of, I am still not used to death. But then, no one should be.

Briggs crouches beside me, collecting Lujan’s gun and ammo. When he’s done, he nods to me and then we’re moving again. Briggs has to be in excruciating pain with every other step, but he doesn’t say a word or even slow his pace. I follow behind him, wondering how the hell things got this bad. And about my son.

Is Sam safe?

And I can’t help but think of the others as well. Adam, the rest of the Garde, Sarah—even Noto and the agents who we left behind at Ashwood.

What’s become of them? What’s going to become of all of us?





CHAPTER SEVEN

WE KEEP MOVING WITHOUT MUCH INCIDENT, though the journey is a bit of a blur to me. The shock of everything that’s going on coupled with my lack of sleep has me running on nothing but adrenaline. A squadron of Mogs races by us in Humvees at one point, but Briggs and I stick to the parks and trees and somehow manage to avoid detection. Questions fill my mind. Who’s supplying the Mogs with transportation? What are they doing now that they have seemingly free rein to move about the city?