WE PULL OFF FOR FOOD AND GAS AND NEW PHONES.
We go to a truck stop, where we eat meat loaf and macaroni and cheese, which is one of the few things Henri acknowledges as being superior to anything we had on Lorien.
As we eat, he creates new documents on his laptop, using our new names.
He'll print them when we arrive, and as far as anyone will know, well be who we say we are.
Youre sure about John Smith? he says.
Yeah.
You were born in Tuscaloosa,Alabama. I laugh.
How did you come up with that?
He smiles and motions towards two women sitting a few booths away.
Both of them are extremely hot.
One of them iswearing a T-shirt that reads WEDOITBETTERINTUSCALOOSA.
And thats where were going next, he says.
As weird as it may sound, I hope we stay in Ohio for a long time.
Really.
You like the idea of Ohio?
I like the idea of making some friends, of going to the same school for more than a few months, of maybe actually having a life.
I started to do it in Florida.
It was sort of great, and for the first time since weve been on Earth, I felt almost normal.
I want to find somewhere and stay somewhere.
Henri looks thoughtful.
Have you looked at your scars today?
No, why?
Because this isnt about you.
This is about the survival of our race, which was almost entirely obliterated, and about keeping you alive. Everytime one of us dies the Garde, our chances of bringing back our race will diminish.
You're Number Four; youre next in line.
You have an entire race of vicious murderers hunting you.
Were leaving at the first sign of trouble, and Im not going to debate it with you.
Henri drives the entire time.
Between breaks and the
creation of the new documents, it takes about thirty hours.
I spend most of the time napping or playing video games.
Because of my reflexes, I can master most of the games
quickly.
The longest it has taken me to beat any of them is about a day.
I like the alien war and space games the best.
I pretend Im back on Lorien, fighting Mogadorians, cutting them down, turning them to ash.
Henri thinks its weird and tries to discourage me from doing it.
He says we need to live in the real world, where war and death are a reality, not pretend.
As I finish my latest game, I look up.
Im tired of sitting in the truck.
The clock on the dash reads 7:58.
I yawn,and wipe my eyes.
How much farther?
Were almost there, Henri says.
It is dark out, but there is a pale glow to the west.
We pass by farms with horses and cattle, then barren fields, and beyond those, its trees as far as the eye can see.
This is exactly what Henri wanted, a quiet place to go unnoticed.
Once a week he scours the internet for six, seven, eight hours at a time to update a list of available homes around the country that fit his criteria: isolated, rural, immediate availability.
He told me it took four entries"one call to South Dakota, one to New Mexico, one to Arkansas"until he had the rental where were going to live now.
A few minutes later we see scattered lights that announce
the town.
We pass a sign that reads:
[WELCOME TOPARADISE, OHIO
POPULATION 5,243]
Wow, I say.
This place is even smaller than where we stayed in Montana.
Henri is smiling.
Who do you think its paradisefor?
Cows, maybe? Scarecrows?
We pass by an old gas station, a car wash, a cemetery.
Then the houses begin, clapboard houses spaced thirty or so feet apart.
Halloween decorations hang in the windows of most of them.
A sidewalk cuts through small yards leading to the front doors.
A traffic circle sits in the center of town, and in the middle of it is a statue of a man on horseback holding a sword. Henri stops.
We both look at it and laugh, though were laughing because we hope no one else with swords ever shows up here.
He continues around the circle and once were through it,the dashboard GPS system tells us to make a turn.
We begin heading west, out of town.
We drive for four miles before turning left onto a gravel road, then pass open cut fields that are probably full of corn in the summer, then through a dense forest for about a mile.
And then we find it, tucked away in overgrown vegetation, a rusted silver mailbox with black lettering painted on the side of it that reads 17 OLD MILLRD.
The closest house is two miles away, he says, turning in. Weeds grow throughout the gravel drive, which is littered with potholes filled with tawny water.
He comes to a stop and turns the truck off.
Whose car is that? I ask, nodding to the black SUV
Henri has just parked behind.
Im assuming the real-estate agents.
The house stands silhouetted by trees.
In the dark there is an eerie look to it, like whoever last lived in it was scared away, or was driven away, or ran away.
I get out of the truck.
The engine ticks and I can feel the heat coming off of it.
I grab my bag from the bed and stand there holding it.
What do you think? Henri asks.
The house is one story.
Wooden clapboard.
Most of the white paint has been chipped away.
One of the front windows is broken.
The roof is covered with black shingles that look warped and brittle.
Three wooden stairs lead to a small porch covered with rickety chairs.
The yard itself is long and shaggy.
Its been a very long time since the grass was last mowed.
It looks like Paradise, I say.
We walk up together.
As we do, a well-dressed blond
woman around Henri's age comes out of the doorway. Shes wearing a business suit and is holding a clipboard and folder; a BlackBerry is clipped to the waist of her skirt. She smiles.
Mr. Smith?
Yes, says Henri.
Im Annie Hart, the agent from Paradise Realty.
We spoke on the phone.
I tried calling you earlier but your phone seemed to be turned off.
Yes, of course.
The battery unfortunately died on the way here.
Ah, I just hate when that happens, she says, and
walks towards us and shakes Henri's hand. She asks me my name and I tell her, though I am tempted, as I always am, to just say Four.
As Henri signs the lease she asks me how old I am and tells me she has a daughter at the local high school about my age.
Shes very warm, friendly, and clearly loves to chat.
Henri hands the lease back and the three of us walk into the house.
Inside most of the furniture is covered with whitesheets.
Those that arent covered are coated with a thick layer of dust and dead insects.
The screens in the windows look brittle
to the touch, and the walls are covered with cheap plywood paneling.
There are two bedrooms, a modest-sized kitchen with
lime green linoleum, one bathroom.
The living room is large and rectangular, situated at the front of the house.
Theres a fireplace in the far corner.
Iwalk through and toss my bag on the bed of the smaller room.
There is a huge faded poster of a football player wearing a bright orange uniform.
Hes in themiddle of throwing a pass, and it looks like hes about to get crushed by a massive man in a black and gold uniform.
It says
[BERNIEKOSAR, QUARTERBACK, CLEVELANDBROWNS].
Come say good-bye to Mrs. Hart, Henri yells from the living room.
Mrs. Hart is standing at the door with Henri.
She tells me I should look for her daughter at school, that maybe we could be friends.
I smile and say yes, that would be nice.
After she leaves we immediately start unpacking the truck.
Depending on how quickly we leave a place, we either travel very lightly meaning the clothes on our back, Henris laptop and the intricately carved Loric Chest that goes everywhere with us or we bring a few things"usually Henris extra computers and equipment, which he uses to set up a security perimeter and search the web for news and events that might be related to us. This time we have the Chest, the two high-powered computers, four TV monitors, and four cameras.
We also have someclothes, though not many of the clothes we wore in Florida are appropriate for life in Ohio.
Henri carries the Chest to his room, and we lug all of the equipment into the basement, where hell set it up so no visitors will see it.
Once everything is inside, he starts placing the cameras and turning on the monitors.
We wont have the internet here until the morning.
But if you want to go to school tomorrow, I can print all of your new documents for you.
If I stay will I have to help you clean this place and finish the setup
Yes.
Ill go to school,I say.
Then you better get a good night sleep.