Author's Note: Thanks for reading on! I thought this was pretty much assumed, but just in case, I don't own the Lorien Legacies or any of the characters!
Here's Chapter 3!
Sam's Point of View:
I'm awakened by a shuffling sound next to me. I open my eyes a sliver, on high alert, until I realize that it's just Adam. Letting out a breath I didn't even know I was holding, I sit up. I cough in the dust and immediately look to my left. Where did my father go?
"Dad?" I say frantically, standing up, my heart already starting to pound.
"I'm here, Sam, in the other room," he replies. I feel my body sag with relief. I almost thought that he didn't survive yesterday, and that maybe John really didn't succeed in saving him. Maybe I'm becoming paranoid. I rub my hands together to warm them and enter the kitchen.
My father is waiting for me, and hands over my breakfast. I hear the near broken kitchen door creak open as John enters the room clutching the tablet.
"They've moved from Florida," John says shakily, handing the tablet to me. I glance at screen and locate the three stationary, flashing dots currently in Georgia. My eyes stare unblinkingly until I stop with a sudden realization. Wait. Only three?
"John, I think one's missing." I look up into his tired face. He looks like he's barely gotten any rest. He shakes his head hopelessly.
"I know, Sam. We're one less now." My heart clenches. Another lost Lorien.
"Who is it?" I ask, dreading the answer. I can't help but wonder if it is Six. I remembered when she pushed me away, telling me that this war couldn't be fought without casualties, but I never really thought that the first one to go would be her. My heart clenches, wondering if that was one of the last things she said to me. She can protect herself, I force myself to think, but I can't help but also implore, please, please don't let it be Six.
"It's Eight." John lifts his ankle to show us the scar, and I feel horrible at once for my thoughts from a few seconds ago. Every Loric is too valuable to lose, and my relationship with Six shouldn't be the priority right now. But even as I think this, I feel immensely relieved. It's not Six, my mind keeps repeating to myself. Six is alive. I can't look at John because I feel so selfish, until the blow hits me. It's Eight?
Sarah bites her lip and leans her head onto John's shoulder. Her eyelids lower and she mutters something under her breath, something only John can hear. Just as he's about to reply, I hear a smash, and the tinkling of broken glass. I turn around and see a Kraul taking out what's remaining of the kitchen window with its claws, baring its crooked teeth at us.
Sarah screams and ducks as the glass shards pierce her. My dad's squinting outside until I realize that he doesn't have his glasses on yet. I dash to our bedroom and grab a gun along with my dad's glasses, and arrive just in time to see another Kraul jump inside. Shoving the glasses at my dad, I point my gun out the window in case any other Mogs or monsters decide to barge in while John is occupied.
John lights his hands on fire and deftly forms two fireballs, lobbing one at each Kraul. Each one disintegrates immediately. John stands still for a moment while everyone stays eerily silent. Sarah raises an eyebrow with her gun still pointed in front of her.
"So that's all?"
Just as the last word slips from her lips, the front door breaks down. Mogs swarm into the cramped space, aiming their guns at us. As they all shoot in unison, John holds out his hands to stop their bullets and flings them back. I point at the one nearest to my father and shoot it just after it disintegrates. Surprised, I look over at my grinning father, with a gun still smoking in his hand.
"I'm glad I can still help with something," he chuckles, but we don't get any time to celebrate. The second Mog lumbers forth just as John appears at my left and stops his bullet from piercing me. Without another word, he continues to burn down the Mogadorians.
One of his flames misses a Mogadorian and ignites the old, stained sofa. I cough in the pungent smoke as John shakes his head, frustrated. "The house going to burn down. We need to get out."
I stare at the doorway from which Mogs were still streaming in from. Sarah is slowing picking them off one by one, but we'll run out of bullets eventually. One of the Mogs stares directly at me, no longer trying to hide his pale face as he raises his weapon. Instinctively, I aim and fire, and watch as he crumples into dust.
"Through the window," John shouts to us while forming another sphere of flames. He picks my dad up telekinetically and eases him through the window frame. The fire from his hands fly towards the next group of Mogs. Sarah screams as a Mogadorian's cannon fire scrapes by her ankle. John flinches, but doesn't waste time in turning. I can tell the Mog is an officer of some sort. He came dressed fully in uniform with a gleaming sword tucked in his belt, but I can't really see much else in the confusion. To my right, I can see Adam furrowing his brows in concentration as he thrusts his hands out. The floor of the house cracks open down to the foundation between us and the advancing Mogadorians with a deafening rumble. His face is pale but calm as he aims at the tall Mog wielding the cannon with his borrowed gun and fires. As the Mog crumples to dust, I think I see a flash of recognition pass Adam's eyes. The Mog turns one last time to glare at Adam with a burning hatred. His lips form one word.
"Traitor." Adams eyes look glazed as he clenches the gun tighter, his lips pressed into a thin line. It's not until later that I realize that the moisture in his eyes was tears.
John spins around to make sure no one yet is severely hurt. "Go through the window. I'll be right there," he orders us, but I shake my head. I'm not leaving him. My gun only trembles slightly when I point it at one Mog after another until I hear an empty click. It's out. John grabs me, at the same time launching an enormous fireball that demolishes half of the remaining Mogs and also sets fire to the rest of wooden house.
Coughing, I feel myself being deposited outside onto the dry field outside the window. I hit the ground with a thump. "John!" I hear Sarah scream. Not a second later, he leaps out the window, the remaining shards of glass just barely scraping his legs. Cannon fire shoots out of the broken window, which John stops and throws back inside. Outside, I see three more silver ships landing, and one more hovering in the air. A Mog steps out of the first one and points his gun towards the house.
"Run!" John shouts, and I know what he's thinking. There's no way we'll be able to defeat all of them. Gasping for air in the dust and smoke, I turn and sprint towards the forest behind the fields, Adam right on my heels.
John continues to fight even as we run, and Sarah hands me a Mog gun she found. Even though I can't see much through all the smoke, I can tell that John's legacies really have gotten more powerful since our last battle, and feel a tiny spark of pride. I double over in coughs once I reach the forest, clutching my side, and turn back one last time to see the roof of the house collapse inwards, sending up sparks and dust. I hear the groan of a monster trapped inside as it burns to death.
My eyes widen. "The chests!" As if reading my mind, the chests shoot out of the side of the house, splintering the wall. John pulls them closer until they stop in front of us with a grinding crunch.
A flash of green passes by my right and Sarah lets out a yelp. The cloth covering her shoulder is quickly dampening with blood. I whip my head around to see about a group of Mogs advancing on us. My heartbeat quickens. There's no way to escape now. I yank my father up with one hand and Sarah's wrist with the other and pull them farther into the forest. Sarah cries out as a branch scrapes her wounded shoulder. Out of the corner of my eyes, I see Adam thrusting his hands forward. As if connected to him somehow, the ground begins trembling. The trees in the earthquake's path slant and fall forward onto the Mogadorians. A giant puff of dust emerges from where they stood, and the glint of a sword hacks through a branch before falling for the last time. Adam smiles, but it looks pained. "Let's go."
"John," Sarah gasps, short of breath. "He's still back there."
My head swivels around to see John stand in the middle of the field, fighting an entire army by himself. His arm reaches out into the air as a tree uproots and smashes into a row of Mogs. He continues flinging trees and stacking them until they tower over the house. Breathing heavily, he forms the largest fireball I've ever seen him create and lobs it on top. Immediately, the wood catches on fire. Flames climb down from the top and spread over the field, eagerly licking up the dried grass. Within a minute, the fire consumes at least half of the field, and I can't see John through the smoke. I tilt my head to see the flames advance steadily towards silver ships on the other side until they grab on and climb inside. There's no way the Mogs are using those again.
Sarah coughs. "We have to help him!" I nod and lift my gun, but I can't find a target anymore in the chaos. The smoke stings my eyes and squeezes my chest.
I see another silver ship hovering in the distance zoom over with surprising speed. I aim my gun and fire at it, but the bullets merely make tiny dents in the shiny material. A ladder lowers from it, and a mog nimbly climbs down and reaches into the flames. I aim my gun again and shoot. A howl pierces our ears as the Mog falls off the ladder into the flames, clutching at his side. Someone from inside the ship shoots a glowing bullet into the field and leans down to yank something up, presumably the other soldier. An object rises out of the fire, pulled up by the Mog. I pose my gun to shoot and squint through the smoke. As the person dangles upside-down by the ankle, I realize that, in fact, it isn't the other soldier.
It's John. He wobbles over the flames until a final yank brings him into the ship.
"NO!" I scream, snapping out of my daze and shooting at last, and watching as the bullets pinged harmlessly off of the closed opening hatch. Adam and Sarah thrust their guns out also, to no avail.
"John!" Sarah screams, lurching forward and dropping her gun. Her eyes pool with tears. The wound on her arm continues to bleed, but she doesn't seem to notice. Adam shakes his head, lowering his gun.
"We won't be able to get him back. Not now," he mutters. I shake my head.
"I'm never leaving him behind!" I yell towards him.
Adam gestures to Sarah. "She's hurt. We need to get her help." I feel split into two halves. One side wants to save John, and the other wants to help Sarah. My father put his hand on my shoulder.
"We have to go, son." He wheezes with the effort of talking. I feel overwhelmed. I wasn't meant to make decisions like this. I wasn't meant to be a leader. For a second, I stare unmovingly at the silver ship now rising into the sky until my more practical side wins out.
"Let's go," I tell them, and beckon them deeper into the woods. I grab two trunks and tuck them under my arms. As my dad reaches for the other one, Adam picks Sarah up and runs after me. By the time we get to the other side, I'm panting like a dog and my dad looks like he's going to collapse any minute.
Just as I'm appreciating the loss of any Mogadorians in our near vicinity, I hear sirens wailing from a distance. I catch my breath before telling my dad, "I think we can take one of these cars." In front of us, two old, dusty cars are parked along the sidewalk. My dad stumbles forward and jimmies the lock open on one of them. I'm surprised that it opens so easily until I see the interior of the car. Everything looks like it had been abandoned for a decade after being bashed repeatedly with a baseball bat, but I couldn't care less.
"Give me a second," my dad wheezes. The sirens got closer and closer until I had to fight the urge to slam my palms onto my ears. The rumble of a car engine fights its way past the wails of the siren as the car reluctantly complies to my dad's wishes. I slide into shotgun as Adam gets into the back and lays Sarah down across the three seats.
I see flashes of red light dance across my vision, and catch a firetruck coming around the block out of the corner of my eyes.
"GO!" I yell, and my dad hits the gas. We shoot forward, careening, and turn the next corner. I strain my neck in time to see a group firemen step out of the truck with a hose. Turning back around, I shake my head as I realize the hopelessness of our situation. If Six, Marina, and Nine could have, I'm sure they would have gone to Chicago to look for us by now. Seeing their unmoving dots on the tablet in Georgia makes me believe that they must be in such a bad condition that they can't travel. I feel panic and distress seize me.
We lost John. We're only a group of humans now, plus a Mogadorian. How are we supposed to fight this war by ourselves?
A/N: Thanks for reading again! If you have any tips for writing action, they would be much appreciated!