OUR BEIGE FORD CONTOUR BARRELS DOWN THE HIGHWAY with Nine behind the wheel. I stare at the long rows of corn in the fields and I try to picture what they'd look like from space. I can't stop thinking about our ship sitting somewhere in the New Mexico desert. After all these years, after all the running and hiding and training, everything is nearly in place. Members of the Garde have developed their Legacies and are coming together, Setrákus Ra came to Earth to fight, and when it's all over we will have a ship to fly us back to Lorien.
"I'm bored," Nine says. "Tell me a story. Tell me about Sarah. How hot is she, anyway?"
"Forget it. She's out of your league," I say.
"Four, if you could get anywhere near her, I'm pretty sure I'd have a shot. Especially in this car."
This car. Nine let me wallow pitifully when I first saw it sitting there. I mean, given everything else that I'd seen about how Sandor and Nine had lived, it was understandable that I pictured our ride as something with a whole lot more bling to it. Turns out, looks can be deceiving. The Ford was just hiding its assets.
From the outside, the car does look like something most likely found on cinderblocks. But inside it has to be the most technologically advanced thing I've ever seen. I feel like James Bond. There's a radar detector, a laser jammer, and bulletproof tinted windows. When Nine wants a break from driving, the car does the driving for him. With the push of a button, a gun turret with large barrels pops out of the hood. This, of course, is controlled with the steering wheel. Nine demonstrated all of it on a lonely stretch of highway in southern Illinois, squeezing off a few rounds at an abandoned barn. My firsthand experience of cars was limited to the beat-up pickups and other throwaways Henri found for us—the kinds of cars we would have no problem ditching at the last minute. He never would have gone for something like this. There would be too much evidence if it got left behind. It just goes to show again how different each Cêpan was.
Nine takes his hands off the wheel and puts them together like he's praying. "Please, I'm begging you. Just tell me again what she looks like. After this many hours of corn, I would do anything for something pretty to think about."
I look back at the fields, lips pressed together. "No way."
"Dude, you'd think she hadn't, you know, turned your ass in to the police. Come on! Why are you so protective?"
"I don't even know if she did turn me in. I don't know who to believe anymore. But if she did, I have to think she had her reasons. Maybe she was lied to or pressured into it." So many questions about Sarah have been running through my mind. If only I could see her, talk to her.
"Yeah, yeah. Forget that stuff for a minute. Just tell me what she looks like. I really want to know. And I promise not to say a word." I can tell he's not going to give this up. "I swear on the Loric code, if there is such a thing."
"Of course there's such a thing! You and Sandor were just too busy living this cushy life, playing with your toys, to bother with anything as basic as Loric code," I retort. We ride in silence for a few minutes. "Okay, I'll tell you this about Sarah. You know when you're talking to a beautiful girl and she's focused only on you and everything is going great?"
"Yeah."
"And you think you're with the hottest girl in the state, maybe in the country, maybe even on Earth. Just by walking in a room, she lights it up. Everyone wants to be her best friend, wants to marry her, or both. Can you picture her?"
Nine's smile widens. "Yeah. Okay. I can picture her."
"Well, that's Sarah. She's the hot girl who lights up the room. She treats you like you're the most important person she's ever met. When she smiles at you, oh man, it's the best, and nothing else matters. On top of all that, she's the sweetest, smartest, most creative person I've ever met. And she loves animals and once—"
"Dude. I don't care if she's nice to puppies. Just give me her deets, her look, her style."
I've never known anyone so relentless. I sigh. "Blond hair, blue eyes. Tall and thin—and you should see her in this one red sweater she has. It's not even fair how gorgeous she looks in it."
Nine howls at the ceiling, waking Bernie Kosar up in the backseat. I point at him. "Hey! You're not supposed to say anything, remember? On the Loric code?"
"Okay, okay, okay," Nine says. "Thank you for that tidbit. She sounds like a total babe. Now, tell me about Six." He rubs his hands together, grinning in anticipation.
"No way!"
"Aw, come on, Johnny."
I laugh. It's impossible not to want to talk about her. "Okay. Six. Let's see. Well, first of all, she's the strongest person I've ever met."
He snorts. "Give me a break. I'm sure I could kick her ass."
"I don't know, man. Wait until you meet her."
He fixes his hair in the mirror. "Huh, I can't wait."
"And she's got long black hair, and she always looks like she's pissed off—"
"Have you ever noticed, there's something kind of exciting when a girl is mad at you?" Nine muses, tapping his chin as if he were really giving it deep thought.
I suddenly feel guilty. I shouldn't be talking like this, with Nine of all people. And I definitely shouldn't be comparing Six and Sarah this way, as if it's a competition—especially since they hate each other. Sarah hates Six because of everything I said about Six the night she turned me in, and Six hates Sarah because I risked our lives going to see her when Six needed my help. And because she thinks Sarah betrayed us. "I don't feel right talking about Six. I think I'll just let you meet her, come to your own conclusions."
Nine shakes his head. "You are such a wuss, dude."
For a while, we ride along in silence. Road signs announce where we are. I check the tablet again. Thanks to Nine and Sandor's love of electronics, I was able to plug it into the car's computer. Now I see the blips representing me and Nine in eastern Oklahoma; there's still one in New Mexico, and a fourth is moving quickly north over the Atlantic Ocean. The missing three showed up in England, but I still don't know how they could have gotten there so quickly from India. I decide to give myself permission to check again in five or ten minutes, to make sure none of them disappear again.
I look out the window, examining the signs as they go by. We're more than halfway to New Mexico when I notice the gas gauge is perilously close to EMPTY. I point to it and Nine pulls in to a truck stop. He asks me to open the glove compartment. Two rolls of hundred-dollar bills fall out and into my lap.
"Damn," I say, catching them.
"Let me have one of those, will ya?" Nine asks.
I peel off a bill and hand it to him. He pops the gas tank and climbs out of the car. I put a few of the bills in my pocket and tuck the rest of them back in the glove compartment. Exhausted, I pull the lever to recline the seat, put my head back and close my eyes. Bernie Kosar leans forward and licks my cheek, making me chuckle. I am bone-weary tired, but I fight the sleep that tries to wash over me. I can't deal with what comes with sleep. I'm sick of taking on Setrákus Ra in my dreams.
I let my mind wander to Sarah and Six; I hope they're both okay. Then I think of Sam. I still can't believe I abandoned my best friend. I tell myself I had no choice. The blue force field had incapacitated me to the point where going back in would have been suicide. No matter how true all of this is, it still feels bad.
I'm startled from my thoughts by the loud click of the gas pump finishing its fill. I breathe deeply, eyes still closed, to appreciate every last second of silence before Nine gets back into the car. Except the silence continues. Nine doesn't hop in and start to chatter away. I open my eyes and look back at the pump, but no one is there. Where is he? I look around the gas station. Nothing. I'm immediately worried. I get out, Bernie Kosar hopping out behind me, and lock the doors.
First I head inside the station—he's not there. Next, I go out to the parking lot, which is full of semi-trailers. With my advanced hearing, I pick up Nine's voice, and I can tell he's good and pissed off. Bernie Kosar and I run towards his voice, weave around several trailers, and find him standing between two young guys with blood on their T-shirts. In front of Nine are three big truckers, all of them shouting in his face.
"What did you just say to me?" the trucker in the middle asks Nine. Under his yellow cap, a bushy red beard covers the man's face.
"Are you deaf?" Nine says, overenunciating as if speaking to an idiot. "I said, You have girl arms. I mean, look at your wrists." Why does he insist on looking for trouble?
"Uh, what's up?" I interrupt, walking over.
The trucker on the right, a tall guy wearing aviator sunglasses, looks at me. He points his finger in my face and yells, "Mind your own business, asshole!" As I join the group, the trucker on the left spits a long stream of brown juice at my feet.
"As far as I've figured out," Nine turns to explain to me, "these fat guys are angry at these little guys. The little guys were hitchhiking and caught a ride with one of them, promising money they didn't have. So now, the fat guys are trying to beat up the little guys with their puny girl arms."
I turn to the truckers, the fat guys, and try to make nice. "Okay, well, none of this has anything to do with us, and we need to get on the road. So, guys, let me apologize for my friend, who clearly doesn't know when to mind his own business."
"Yeah," the bearded trucker growls at Nine. "Just get the hell out of here, punk, and let us deal with these lowlifes."
I take my first real look at the hitchhikers. They smell like they've been on the road for a while. They couldn't be more than eighteen, probably younger. As the truckers move towards them menacingly, they glance at each other with real panic in their eyes. Next thing I know, Nine is stepping in front of the little guys and saying, "I don't care who promised what to who. You touch these kids again and I'll break all your goddamn arms."
I squeeze in between Nine and the three now truly pissed-off truckers, holding both sides back. Bernie Kosar barks threateningly. "Okay, okay, just stop." I turn to Nine, willing him to listen to me. "We can't do this right now. We have somewhere very important we have to get to. Now," I say. I dig into my pocket and turn to the truckers. "Listen, how much did these guys say they would give you?"
"A hundred bucks," the one wearing the aviators says.
"Fine," I say, pulling one of the bills out of my pocket. The truckers' eyes widen at the sight of such a big bill and I instantly know things just got worse.
"Why would you give anything to these guys, Johnny?" Nine asks.
I feel the meaty hand of a trucker on my shoulder. He squeezes my shoulder as he says, "Did I say a hundred bucks? I meant a thousand. Johnny."
"That's crazy!" one of the hitchhikers shouts. "We never said we'd give you any money!"
I spin back to the truckers, waving the bill like it was a flag. "A hundred bucks, guys, just take it. Consider it a tip for good service, or payment in lieu of a beating, I don't really care what you call it. Just take it!"
"I said a thousand," the man on the left says, spitting again, this time directly on the top of my shoe. "Are you deaf?" A low growl starts deep in Bernie Kosar's throat.
Nine moves forward, but I push him back and turn to face him. "No! It's not worth it, man!" I put my face right up in his. He has to understand how serious I am. I will not let him do this. "Please. Think of what Sandor would want you to do. He'd want you to walk away. I need you to walk away," I whisper.
"You guys aren't getting shit!" Nine yells over my shoulder at the truckers.
I shove him backwards, towards the car, and spin around just in time to see the bearded trucker pull a knife out of his pocket. "All of your money. Now." The other two men step up to flank me.
"Listen," I say, lowering my voice, trying to get control of the situation. "You will take the hundred bucks and you will walk away. If you don't, I'm not going to hold my friend back anymore. Believe me, you don't want that. You have no idea what he can do and you don't want to know."
I'm not entirely surprised when the answer comes in the form of a fist. It comes from my right and I easily dodge it. I grab the trucker's wrist, and throw him down. BK looms over him, still growling, and the man shrinks back.
"My turn!" Nine says gleefully, pushing me out of the way.
The bearded trucker swings his knife wildly at Nine, who steps lightly out of range. On his next swing, Nine ducks under the blade and hooks his arm beneath the man's armpit, slamming him to the ground. He kicks the knife out of the trucker's hand and it goes skidding under a truck. "Dude, you should listen to my wise pal over there. You seriously do not want to mess with us."
"All right, all right. We're done here," I say, placing my hand on Nine's shoulder. "And now, we're all going to walk away. Let's go."
I hear the hammer of a gun click. We freeze. The trucker with the aviator glasses waves a .50-caliber Desert Eagle at us. I don't know everything about guns, but I know this one packs a very big punch. He sounds pretty serious when he asks, "Which of you wants to die first?"
Of course Nine steps forward, crossing his arms over his chest. "Me."
He raises the gun towards Nine's face and laughs at what he thinks is just bravado. "Don't tempt me, punk. Killing you would be the highlight of my day."
"Well, then, shoot. No reason to put off the highlight of your day. You don't look like you get a lot of them," Nine says. I sigh, knowing this is all going to end badly. And after, there will be attention we don't need.
At this point things begin to move really fast. First, a sudden and very loud blast from a nearby truck startles the gun-touting trucker, who fires off a shot. Nine stops the bullet with his mind, just inches from his nose. With a grin and a tilt of his head, he spins the bullet midair and sends it racing back at the shooter. He sees the bullet coming his way and turns tail and runs as fast as his legs will take him.
I turn to look at Nine. This guy is having way too much fun. I know what he's going to do and I know it is a bad, bad idea. "No. Nine. Don't do it," I say, shaking my head, knowing he's going to do it anyway.
Nine laughs and feigns innocence. "Do what? This?"
He and I both turn to look at the bullet that is still hovering where Nine stopped it near the trucker. He gives a little chortle and sends the bullet racing after the fleeing trucker, right into his ass. He goes down, screaming his head off. Nine turns to the other truckers, including the one BK has decided to let off the ground. They look like they are about to pee in their pants they're so scared. Nine smiles at them and I know he's still not done messing with their heads. He says to the two truckers, "You know what? I think you two should make up for your rude friend. Here is what you are going to do. You are going to reach into your pockets, very slowly, and take out your wallets. Then, you are going to give every dollar you have to these nice guys here. You know, for their trouble," he says, motioning to the hitchhikers. "I don't think you want to hear what I'll do if you don't cooperate. Quickly." Both truckers nod and reach into their pockets.
The hitchhikers look totally stunned by all they've just seen. "Uh, thanks, man," one of them says.
"No problem," Nine says as the money is exchanged. Everyone's hands but ours are visibly shaking.
"Just so you know, we never promised that guy any money. They were trying to shake us down. We're absolutely broke," the other says.
"I believe you. And you're not broke anymore," Nine says, smiling. "Let's just say, I know what it's like, on the road and on the run. It can be hard for a kid to figure out a way to get some cash." He turns to me for confirmation. I smile at the kids but look back at Nine and make it clear I am more pissed off than I've ever been. He shrugs. "Hope the next ride you catch goes better!" He turns and walks away, and BK and I follow.
We get to our car, climb in and pull away in silence. After a minute or two, Nine reaches over and flicks on the radio. He drums his fingers on the wheel in time to the song.
"What the hell were you doing back there?" I yell, punching his shoulder. "And don't give me any crap about the poor little boys and the mean, mean trucker men either! You're just entertaining yourself and showing off! And you know what? That's putting us both in danger, not to mention keeping us from getting where we need to go. C'mon, Nine! Get it together!"
Nine is gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles are white and I can see his jaw is clenched so hard his muscles are twitching. "I was not showing off and I was not entertaining myself." I wait for him to continue, to explain, but it's clear he is not going to say anything else. What does he have to be mad about?
"What, you were just standing up for two humans who were getting pushed around? Even though you said humans aren't worth the time or energy?" He flinches when I throw his words back at him.
"I don't like bullies. No one has a right to take or to hurt, just because they can. I wasn't going to let them do that. And I made damn sure they wouldn't do it again." His voice is flat. He looks over at me, at the surprised look on my face, and turns back to the road. "Don't know why you look so shocked. I'm a humanitarian, man."
I shake my head. Every time I think I have Nine figured out, he does something to turn it around and I end up liking him even more. I shrug, lean my head back and turn to watch the landscape whip by the window. I drum along with the music on my armrest. "I didn't know, that's all," I say.
He relaxes into his seat and smiles in a satisfied way that is more like the Nine I'm used to. "Yeah, well, now you do, man. Now you do."