I Am Number Four: The Lost Files: Last Defense(21)

What does this mean?

“Yeah,” Sam says in response to my lack of coherence. “That’s kind of how I felt at first too.”

“But how is that possible?” I finally manage. “Did John transfer his powers to you or . . . ?”

“I don’t think so. He’s as confused by all of it as I am. Oh, and we met someone else in the city. This random girl who had never even heard of the Loric or Mogs until today. She’s got powers too. Dad . . . what if there are others out there? Like, what if humans across the planet started getting Legacies?”

The implications are extraordinary—especially in terms of protecting Earth. What force has the ability to grant abilities like this? Maybe something the others found in the Sanctuary? Are Adam and the others okay?

“Dad? You there?”

“Yes, just . . . trying to make sense of this,” I say, my mind still reeling. A smile creeps across my face as I realize that if Sam has this power, he’ll be better able to protect himself now. “Let’s take this one step at a time. What’s your next move?”

“Um, I’m not sure. John’s talking to Walker. Nine and Five are somewhere around here fighting. I’ll keep you updated. What about you?”

I give him a rundown on what happened after he left. Mostly he responds with “What?!” and variations of “Oh crap!” I tell him that this morning I spoke to the president.

“Whoa. It sounds like they’ve given you rock star status.”

I glance around the bathroom, the living space I’ve been told not to leave.

“Something like that,” I say.

“At least you guys aren’t stuck at Ashwood. Eventually you would have run out of waffles.”

It takes me a second to realize he must think Walker’s agents are with me, but I don’t have a chance to correct him. There are new voices on his end of the line I can’t quite make out.

“Crap, Dad, I need to go. I’ll talk to you soon, okay? Stay safe.”

“You too, son. You too.”

He hangs up. I sit on the floor, trying to understand what all this could possibly mean.

I’m off the phone for maybe a few minutes when there’s another knock on my door. I open it, expecting to see Richards there ready to drag me off to another meeting or something, but it’s Briggs.

“Hey,” he says. He’s still using a crutch and is holding a cardboard box that someone’s written “roast beef” on with Magic Marker. “Lunch.”

“Thanks.” I take the meal. “How’s your leg?”

“Much better, thanks. They’ve got a top-of-the-line infirmary down here. I’ve never seen some of the machines before.”

“Having fun in the hallway?”

He shrugs. “I’m supposed to report in if you go anywhere, but not stop you. You’re not a prisoner or anything.”

He sounds a little embarrassed by his admission.

“Oh,” he says, pulling a book from under his arm and holding it out to me. The Once and Future King by T. H. White. “Here. There were a couple of books in the break room, but I think the others were all field guides and operation manuals.”

“Thanks,” I say. He’s still not meeting my eyes. He seems meeker than yesterday—why?

“Anyway, I thought I heard a phone ring earlier. But that’s impossible, since there’s no way you could get a signal down here.”

I don’t say anything. He motions behind me, and I open the door wider so he can step through.

“Your phone works down here?” he whispers when the door is closed behind us. I can barely hear him and respond in the same hushed tones.

“Apparently. Like I said earlier, it’s a long story.”

“We’re not supposed to have any communication with the outside world. I should confiscate that.”

Crap. I can’t let him take my only connection to my son. Is this why he seems so hesitant?

“Look, the only people who have this number are people we can trust. It’s important that I keep in touch with them. They know more about what’s going on out there than we do.”

Briggs stares at me, not blinking, for what feels like a long time. Finally he speaks again.

“Could I . . .” He hesitates, eyes hitting the cement floor. “Would it be okay if I made a quick call?”

I breathe a sigh of relief and motion for him to follow me into the bathroom, where I turn on the water.

“Here,” I say. I switch the ringer to vibrate before handing it over, feeling stupid for not having done so before.

He looks at it as if I’ve just handed him a live grenade—something tells me this might be the first time he’s disobeyed an order. Or maybe it’s just the fear of what he’ll find on the other end of the line. His hand shakes slightly when he dials and raises the phone to his ear. As it rings, his breathing gets faster and faster, and his jaw clenches. I can hear the ringing go on, five, then six times.

Finally someone picks up.

Briggs’s entire posture changes. He goes slack. For a second I think he’s going to collapse onto the floor.

“Mom,” he says.

I slip out of the bathroom to give him a moment of privacy, sitting on the bed, putting my head in my hands. My mind is still racing, trying to make sense of what Sam told me.