I Am Number Four: The Lost Files: Last Defense(6)
“Noto, get up here! Something’s happening in New York.”
CHAPTER THREE
THE WARSHIPS HAVE COME. THEY’RE REPORTED first over New York and then cities across the world.
“This is it,” I murmur to myself. Everything I’ve tried to prevent is happening. The Mogs are here, in full force.
It’s an invasion.
Is Sam safe?
Noto and I gather around several televisions in the house’s media room with at least a dozen Feds to watch shocked newscasters and talking heads try to make sense of what’s happening. Pretty soon the only thing playing is a live feed of the UN press conference. Ella is there. So is Setrákus Ra, in the form of a middle-aged man. He’s saying something about wanting peace. I grind my teeth together.
Then there’s some sort of commotion, and the camera pans to John, his face a portrait of rage. That’s when everything goes straight to hell.
Where is Sam?
I search for a glimpse of my son. But he’s not in the crowds fleeing when John’s hands start to glow with fire, and by the time Ra transforms into a horrifying monster, the camera is pointed only at the people on the stage. When the live feeds cut out, the news stations keep playing the footage, over and over again. Still, I don’t see Sam.
I try Sam’s phone, but there’s no answer. Of course not. He’s probably there, in the thick of it all, just off camera. My hands start to shake as a feeling of helplessness falls over me. I’m so far away from him. I should have stopped him, demanded that he not go. But it’s too late. What can I do now? Suddenly the idea of going back down into the archives seems foolish, like trying to use a water bottle to put out a forest fire. And so I keep watching the footage on loop.
At first it’s just the videos on repeat with no commentary, as if the news anchors themselves can’t figure out how to respond. Then it’s a bombardment of theories, warnings and assurances that either the government will handle this or that it’s directly responsible for it.
Gamera, still in the form of a small black cat, winds between my legs, brushing up against me. His green eyes dart about, ears perked. I wonder briefly how much he understands about what’s going on. Can he feel that our enemy has invaded? That everything is changing?
Around me, the FBI agents try to deal with what’s happening in their own ways. Most are either dumbfounded, standing slack jawed beside me, or they’re manic, yelling at every busy signal or call that won’t go through on their phones, or shouting into crackling radios, trying to get a handle on the situation. No one’s heard from Walker, and I can tell that several of these agents want to be out in the field.
I don’t know how many times I watch the footage repeat. Reports start to come in from across the world. Humanity doesn’t know how to react. Chinese forces attack the warship over Beijing, sending planes to drop bombs on it from above. At the same time, trucks shoot missiles from below, the sky erupting in flames. But the warship remains unharmed, protected, apparently, by some sort of invisible shielding. The missiles explode against the force field and then fire and debris rain down on the city. A few of the missiles appear to bounce off the ship completely, obliterating towering buildings, destroying the skyline.
When the smoke clears, the warship looks untouched, but Beijing is on fire.
There’s riots and looting in cities across the world. It seems to be happening in places where there aren’t even any warships. I guess when there’s a giant alien craft hovering over your city, you’re less likely to rampage through the streets. People are scared, frightened, some ready to fight, others claiming it’s the end of days. There’s even footage of a group holding welcome banners and signs that say “Beam me up!”
I try to remember how I reacted when I found irrefutable proof that there was life outside of Earth. When I first met Pittacus Lore. Bursts of images and feelings flash through my mind. Awe. Fear. Validation. Pittacus holds out a white tablet. His eyes burning like fire as he asks for my help.
A new video starts to play on one of the monitors, taking me out of my thoughts. I recognize Sarah Hart’s voice immediately as she explains who the Garde and Mogadorians are—after spending so much of my life trying to keep the Garde a secret, it’s astounding to hear them spoken of on national television. At first it’s just on one news station, but then all of them are playing it, talking about how it was found on YouTube. They actually interrupt their coverage of the warships to show it, until Sarah’s voice is echoing all around me, coming from every speaker and telling the world about John Smith and the Loric.
The talking heads try to dissect the footage, bringing up screen caps and stories from They Walk Among Us. I feel like I can’t catch my breath as I look on.
Everything is happening, all the dominoes falling. I can barely keep up.
Eventually Agent Noto stands beside me. He doesn’t take his eyes off the screens as he speaks.
“We can stream the news footage on a laptop downstairs if you want to get back to work.”
“I’m aware of that,” I say quietly. “But what’s the point? What are we going to find that can fight this?”
Outside, the sun is beginning to set. My eyes feel like sandpaper. They’re no doubt bloodshot, and the combination of caffeine and the events unfolding on the screen has me practically shaking.