The Fall of Five

12

Night has fallen by the time we cross the Arkansas state line. Luckily, we know exactly where we’re going. The billboards started popping up about twenty miles back, the huge and hairy face of the Boggy Creek Monster inviting us to visit Fouke’s one-and-only Monster Mart. We’re close now, and the tree-lined highway is pretty desolate, so I break my own rule and really start gunning it.

Sarah peers out her window, craning her neck at one of the faded Monster Mart signs.

“Just a couple more miles,” she says quietly.

“Are you ready?” I ask, sensing some apprehension in her voice.

“I hope so,” she says.

I pull the car over just before the exit for Fouke. This isn’t exactly a thriving tourist destination. More like the kind of dinky small-town thing that bored traveling families will stop off at to snap a few pictures and get a bathroom break.

“Probably a good idea to go on foot from here,” I say, glancing at Six. “We’ll want to be invisible.”

Six nods. “Agreed.”

We pile out of the car and into the dark woods that separate the highway from the town. Bernie Kosar briefly stretches his legs before taking on the form of a sparrow. He lands on my shoulder, awaiting instructions.

“Scout ahead, BK,” I say. “See what’s up there.”

As BK soars off into the night, the three of us ready ourselves. I snap my bracelet onto my wrist; I certainly haven’t missed the painful tingling feeling I get whenever I wear it, but I’ll definitely feel safer with it on. I tuck my dagger into the back of my pants. Watching me, Sarah takes her gun out of her backpack and shoves it into the waistband of her jeans as well. All those road-trip fantasies of a couple hours ago are gone. It’s time for action. We start into the woods, the dim lights of Fouke about a mile away through the trees. Sarah grabs hold of my arm.

“Do you think we’ll see the Boggy Creek Monster?” she asks, widening her eyes in mock terror. “From the pictures, it looks a lot like Bigfoot. Maybe we can make friends.”

Six warily scans the woods around us. “Some dumb folk legend isn’t the monster I’m worried about running into.”

“Besides,” I add, trying to keep things light for Sarah’s benefit, “who needs a sasquatch when we’ve got Nine waiting for us back in Chicago?”

Like Six, I’m also searching the woods for any sign of Mogadorian ambush. It’s eerily quiet out here, the dead branches that crunch beneath our feet sounding like fireworks. I hope that we’ve beaten the Mogs to Five’s location, that they weren’t as quick to figure out his weird riddle as we were. The fact that there isn’t a new scar on my ankle and that the small town up ahead doesn’t appear to be engulfed by flames from a recent battle are both really good signs. Still, we have to stay on our guard. There’s no telling what might be waiting for us up ahead.

As we get closer, Six reaches her hands out to us. Sarah has to let go of my arm to take hold of Six. I wish there was time for one last hug, just a quick moment to reassure her. With each of us holding one of Six’s hands, she turns us invisible. We walk on.

We’re deep in the woods, the highway far behind us, when I notice BK gliding in circles through the trees.

Down here, I call out to him.

I let go of Six’s hand so that BK can see us. He flutters down, transforming into a squirrel as soon as he hits the ground.

“BK says there’s a guy up ahead,” I tell them. “No sign of any trouble.”

“Good. Let’s move.”

I take Six’s hand and we pick up the pace, soon emerging from the woods and into the small town of Fouke. It really isn’t much more than just a pit stop. The road that connects to the highway exit continues on to the east. I see a few small houses in that direction and what I assume is the town proper. Where we are is pretty much the beginning of the town, right where travelers would pull off from the road. There’s a two- pump gas station next to us and a post office across the street. All the windows are dark, everything closed and locked up for the night.

And then, there’s the Monster Mart.

The billboards on the way into town really oversold it. The Monster Mart is really just a convenience store with Boggy Creek Monster T-shirts and hats on sale in the window. The main attraction is the twelve-foot wooden statue of the Boggy Creek Monster, a hairy beast that looks like it’s part man, part bear, and part gorilla. Even at this distance, I can see the statue is pretty much covered in bird poop.

“There!” whispers Sarah excitedly.

I see him too. There’s a boy up ahead, sitting cross-legged at the base of the statue. He looks bored as he unwraps a sandwich from some wax paper. A backpack rests next to him, but no sign of a Loric Chest that I can tell. I expected him to at least have that. It would’ve made it easy to identify him. Then again, it would’ve made it easier for the Mogadorians too.

I start forward, but Six stays planted, not letting go of my hand.

“What is it?” I whisper.

“I don’t know,” she replies quietly. “He’s just out here all alone? It all seems too easy. Like a trap.”

“Maybe,” I say, looking around again doubtfully. There are no signs of life except for us and the boy at the statue. If the Mogadorians are lying in wait, they’re doing a really good job hiding.

“Maybe he just got lucky,” Sarah whispers. “I mean, he has managed to stay hidden longer than the rest of you.”

“How do we know he is who he says he is?” Six continues.

“Only one way to find out,” I say.

I let go of Six’s hand and start across the street.

I don’t try to conceal my approach. He notices me almost as soon as I step away from Six and into the yellow glow of the streetlights. He drops his sandwich and hops quickly to his feet, reaching both hands into his pockets. For a moment I think he’s about to pull some kind of weapon on me and I feel my Lumen start to warm up in anticipation. Instead, he pulls two small balls from his pockets, one of them a rubber bouncy ball and the other a steel ball bearing. He rolls them deftly across his knuckles, watching anxiously as I approach. It’s like some kind of nervous tic.

I stop a few yards away from him.

“Hey.”

“Uh, hey,” he replies.

At this distance I can finally get a good look at our would-be Five. He’s about my age, shorter and stockier, not necessarily chubby but definitely built like a barrel. His hair is brown and short, a military buzz-cut style. He’s wearing one of those goofy Boggy Creek Monster T-shirts and a pair of baggy jeans.

“Are you waiting for me?” I ask, not wanting to just come out and ask if he’s Loric. He could be some weird country kid eating a sandwich at night all by himself, I guess.

“I don’t know,” he replies. “Let me see your leg.”

I hesitate for a moment, then reach down and lift up the leg of my pants. He breathes a sigh of relief as he looks over my scars. Then, he lifts up his jeans and shows me his matching set. Through some deft sleight of hand, the two balls disappear back into his pocket and then Five strides forward, his now-empty hand extended.

“I’m Five,” he says.

“Four,” I reply. “My friends call me John.”

“A human name,” he says. “Man, I’ve had too many of those to even remember.”

We shake hands. His grip is like a vise, he’s so excited. For a moment, I’m worried he won’t let go. I clear my throat and try to discreetly tug my hand away.

“Sorry,” he says, dropping my hand awkwardly. “I’m just psyched. I’ve waited so long for this. I wasn’t sure anyone would see my message. It’s not easy making a crop circle, you know? I didn’t want to do it again.”

“Yeah, that wasn’t such a good idea,” I say. I start looking around again, still worried that Mogadorians are going to appear at any moment. Crickets chirp nearby and beyond that I hear the sound of engines from the highway. Nothing to get nervous about, but I still can’t shake the feeling of being exposed.

“Not a good idea?” Five says excitedly. “But you found me! It worked. Did I do something wrong?”

Five seems so eager to please, like he’s just waiting for me to congratulate him on his crop-burning stunt. It’s as if he never considered it could attract unwanted attention, which strikes me as naïve. Maybe I’m judging him too harshly, but he seems soft to me. Sheltered. Or maybe I’ve spent too much time around hard cases like Six and Nine.

“Don’t worry about it,” I tell him, “it’s fine. We should get going.”

“Oh,” he mutters, his face falling. He looks away from me, scanning the area. “Is it just you? I hoped maybe you’d gotten together with some of the others.”

On cue, Six and Sarah materialize at my side. Five stumbles backwards, nearly tripping over his backpack.

Six steps forward. “I’m Six,” she says, blunt as ever. “John is too nice to tell you that your crop-circle stunt probably could’ve gotten you killed. It was stupid. You’re lucky we got here first.”

Five frowns, looking from Six to me. “Wow. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause trouble. I just—I didn’t know what else to do.”

“It’s okay,” I say, nodding at his pack. “Grab your stuff. We can talk it out on the road.”

“Where are we going?”

“We’re bringing you back to the others,” I say. “We’re all together now. It’s time to start the fight.”

“You’re all together?”

I nod. “You’re the last one.”

“Wow,” Five says, looking almost embarrassed. “Sorry I’m late to the party.”

“Come on,” I say, waving again at his pack. “We really need to move.”

Five leans down and grabs his backpack, and then looks at Sarah, who’s been standing by silently. “What number are you?”

She shakes her head. “I’m just Sarah,” she says, smiling.

“A human ally,” breathes Five, shaking his head. “Guys, my mind is officially blown.”

Six shoots me a look of bewilderment. I’ve got the same feeling. Maybe we’ve been through too many fights and close calls, but it seems like Five is way too casual. We should already be on the move, away from this place, and he just wants to stand here and chat.

“Look,” Six snaps, “we can’t just stand around gabbing. They could be co—”

Six is cut off by the sudden roar of a noise overhead. It’s a sound made by no earthly machinery. We all look up just as the silver Mogadorian ship throws on its floodlights, momentarily blinding us. Five, shielding his eyes, turns to look at me.

“Is that your ship?” he asks.

“Mogadorians!” I shout at him. Already, dark shapes are descending from the ship, the first wave of Mogadorian warriors on their way to attack.

“Oh,” says Five, blinking confusedly at the ship. “So that’s what they look like.”