Speed is the key, I thought—and still keeping up with the truck, I stuck finger after finger into at least a dozen of the creep’s eyes. Then I held on to both of his ears and yelled, “Who sent you after me? I want to know right now!”
The cretin actually started laughing. “You’re getting ahead of yourself, punk,” he said with one mouth. “I’m not after you, I’m still to come,” he said with the other.
“Say again,” I told him.
“Number 6 sent me, and you better go back the way you came. You better run the other way! You get it? You turn around, you boogie, or you die a horrible death in the near future.”
Then the voice changed before I knew what was happening. “Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow! Please let me go,” he wailed. “Please, please, I’ve learned my lesson!”
And I knew why—because suddenly he was the truck driver again, and I was practically tearing the poor knucklehead’s ears off.
“Drive safe,” I said, and let him go.
So—Number 6 somehow knew I was coming. What other powers did Ergent Seth have that were as impressive as my own?
Chapter 11
BY TEN O’CLOCK, completely wiped and with still no sign of civilization, I decided to call it a night.
I stepped off the road into the dark woods, kicking myself for staying up late to watch The Blair Witch Project a couple nights before. I found a level clearing about thirty yards in that was as good a spot to camp as any.
I opened my minitent and made a little fire. Then I sat beneath the northern stars, propped against a fir tree, cold hot dog in one hand, warm Gatorade in the other. Ahhh, the great outdoors. Could it get much better?
I hoped so, because it was pretty lonely, actually. And scary, considering that I’m often hunted by aliens.
That’s when I heard a bunch of footsteps just outside the firelight. Uh-oh.
“Quit tripping me, doofus.” I heard a girl’s voice.
“That’s not me. It’s Willy,” said a boy. “You know what a klutz he is.”
“No, it’s not. It’s Dana,” said another boy. “I’m not a klutz.”
“You are such a klutz.”
“Hello? Does anyone notice that it’s like pitch-black?” said yet another girl’s voice.
“No, Emma, we didn’t notice that.”
“Hey, guys,” I finally called out to the intruders. “What took you so long?”
My best friends—in the whole universe—had just arrived.
Let the party begin.
Chapter 12
MY BUDDIES WILLY, Joe-Joe, Emma, and Dana had come to keep me company. Just like I do with my parents, I create them. And if you think about it, creating is the best superpower of them all. It’s a whole lot better than being part spider.
“Survival training. I love it,” Willy said, punching fists with me. “The great outdoors! The Pacific Northwest! Wow! You know how to travel, Daniel.”
Stocky and headstrong, with shoulder-length black hair, Willy is around my age—fifteen or so. He’s always ready, willing, and able to try anything, and mix it up with any thing. If anyone enjoys chasing down aliens as much as I do, it’s Willy. The guy is fearless, loyal to a fault, and all heart.
“Chex Mix! Righteous!” Joe said, plopping down and snatching the bag out of my hand. Joe-Joe, on the other hand, is more like all stomach. Which is crazy, because he’s super skinny. He’s also messy, an athlete at nothing but competitive eating, and the most sarcastic, funniest motormouth I know.
“Oh, wow!” Emma said, twirling around. “Spruce, cedars, Douglas firs, cypresses. Amazing! I love it here. Great spot, Daniel.”
Emma’s a year younger than Willy, and she’s his sister. She’s also our little group’s Earth Mother. Compassionate to a fault, Emma loves two things: the planet Earth and all of its animals, even the insects.
“Hey, you,” Dana said, smiling at me with a jaunty shake of her head. “Decided to take us camping, huh? Interesting. I mean, heat and indoor plumbing, how overrated are they?”
I smiled back, my mouth suddenly dry.
What can I say about Dana? She’s tall, with pin-straight blond hair that flows like a waterfall of flame down her back. She’s probably the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen—just my opinion, of course—but the neat part is that hands down, Dana’s the most genuine person I’ve met. No ego, no big head, no agenda.
I have a crush on Dana so bad that it makes me physically shake sometimes. It’s embarrassing! Like when I look into her eyes, which are in the blue family, somewhere between chambray and shaved ice.
I stared at her in the firelight across from me and felt my wet, cold carcass instantly warm up.
“Way to go, Daniel!” Joe said, his cheeks bloated with Chex Mix, wincing as he sat on a hard root. “Sweet spot you picked here, buddy. I mean, I love the cold by itself, but wet, too? And lousy grub.”
“Joe’s actually right for once,” Willy said, whittling a stick into an arrow with my pocketknife. “This place is a dump.”
“A dump?” Emma said, outraged. “The Pacific Northwest is like one of the biologically richest areas in North America. Maybe in all the temperate areas of the world. Besides all of the coniferous growth, it’s home to the mourning dove and the western fence lizard.”
“Hey, you’re right, Emma. This eco-biosystem thingy is really starting to grow on me,” Joe said. “In fact . . .”
Joe got down on one knee in front of the Douglas fir beside him and mimicked opening a jewelry box. “Will you marry me?” he said to the tree. “Seriously. I love you, tree.”
“Enough, clown boy,” Dana said to Joe. “I call Trivial Pursuit.”
Chapter 13
WHAT CAN I SAY? We like to play board games. All right, so we’re a little nerdy. And since this whole scene was my creation, we could bend the rules any way we wanted.
“First question, Dana,” Emma said, drawing a card. “Category is entertainment. Who played the role of George Bailey in Frank Capra’s Christmas classic, It’s a Wonderful Life? I know you know it, girl.”
Joe finished my Gatorade and gave a deafening burp. “Samuel L. Jackson,” he said. “No, wait. It was Mini-Me.”
“Jimmy Stewart,” Dana said.
“You go, girl,” said Emma. “Next question—Joe. Category is theoretical physics. In quantum electrodynamics, what is the full scattering amplitude the sum of?”
“Theoretical physics!” Joe said, outraged. “E equals MC squared. How should I know? Let me see that card!”
“Incorrect,” Emma said. “Daniel, your turn. Science and nature. What does elephant mean in Latin?”
“An elephant question!” Joe said, rolling his eyes. “I get the thermo whatzit and Daniel, the elephant nerd, gets an elephant question? Besides, he knows Latin.”
“And about a hundred other languages,” said Dana.
“Huge arch,” I said, ignoring them. “Ele means arch and phant means huge.”
After we played Trivial Pursuit for about an hour more, I finally said, “You know what, guys? I think I’m gonna hit the sack. I’ve had a long, hard one today.”
“Where we headed this time?” Will said.
“LA,” I said. “On the trail of Number 6. He’s nasty, and I think he’s getting ready to make a big strike at Terra Firma. He already sent a henchman to warn me off.”
“LA, cool!” Joe said. “Number 6, cooler. The scarier the better. The few, the proud, us.”
“You got my back tonight?” I said to Willy as I stood up and stretched my arms toward the moon.
“Anything gets close to this campfire that Joe can’t eat,” Willy said, punching my leg as I stepped past him, “you’re going to be the first to know.”
Dana poked her head down close as I slid into my sleeping bag. She looked incredible in the pitch-black—but in the firelight, wow!
“Hey, you,” I said.
“Just wanted to say good night,” she whispered, leaning in. “You handsome devil, you. You are gorg
eous, you know? Good night, Dannyboy.” The last thing I felt was the sweet brush of her lips on my cheek.
And then I was dreaming.
Chapter 14
WELCOME TO MY NIGHTMARES!
I have these incredible, vivid dreams that are like high-definition virtual reality. The one I had that night was a recurring one where I was a warrior in a world like Middle Earth in The Lord of the Rings, or maybe 300. I was on a battlefield, holding a shining sword, surrounded by a Yankee Stadium–sized crowd of seething, hopelessly evil creatures. They were heavily armed, and every one of them was there to fight me. They all wanted their piece, but especially the real treasure—my brain.
I turned to try to run but then saw that Willy, Joe, Emma, and Dana were at my side. “We’ve got your back—well, kinda!” Willy yelled.
And then, as always, I saw The Prayer coming at me.
And, as always, Number 1 killed me! Set me on fire, cooked me to medium rare, and then ate me.
I really, really, really hope I haven’t just given away the ending of this story.
Chapter 15
A DAY LATER I arrived in LA, hot on the trail of Number 6—or maybe he was hot on my trail, hard to tell. As I said earlier, his name was Ergent Seth, and according to The List, he lived somewhere called Malibu. The depraved entity was believed to be in the film industry, which made sense if you think about some of the movies they make these days.
I created my mom and dad again, and this time included my sister Pork Chop (Brenda), to help me rent a house in Glendale, which is a suburb of LA.
The nicest thing about the rent-a-house was its gleaming gourmet kitchen. After a long-overdue shower and a quick stop at the supermarket, I spent the next two hours cracking eggs, chopping onions, grinding meat, selecting herbs and spices.
Cooking is a hobby and a passion of mine. It calms me, helps me unwind, and, hey, I’m fifteen. I eat like a truck driver.
I kept my parents and even Pork Chop around for dinner and some nice chitchat. I decided it was Italian night, spaghetti, sausage, and meatballs to be precise, but done the real way. I like to go the whole nine. Top-quality, freshly ground beef, veal, pork, and pancetta, a type of Italian bacon. Roma tomatoes and extra virgin olive oil for the sauce. Fresh pasta. Fresh basil and oregano and Romano and mozzarella cheeses to top it all off.
I’d learned the wonders of authentic Italian on a trip to Sicily six months earlier. I wasn’t there on a vacation, unfortunately, but to take out Number 24, a homicidal, gunrunning alien known as Bang, Bang, Doom, who lived in a heavily guarded villa outside Palermo. Beautiful digs, great views.
After dinner, I was thinking about making a fire. Then I was going to catch up on reading this novel I’d picked up in Portland, Water for Elephants. A honey of a story!
From the looks of ecstasy on my family’s faces around the granite kitchen island, I knew I’d nailed the meal. Even Pork Chop shut her motormouth for a few seconds and shoveled in dinner.
“Thanks for helping me out, guys,” I said, lowering my fork and raising my Pellegrino in a toast. “Here’s to the best family in the world.”
Even though you’re not real.
Chapter 16
AFTER DESSERT my mom hung back in the kitchen as my dad and sister went to see what was on TV. Pork Chop stopped the remote on an old Simpsons rerun, her favorite show.
“I saw The List of Alien Outlaws,” my mom said, sliding me her half-eaten slice of cake. “You’re going after Ergent Seth for sure? Number 6. Is that true, Daniel?”
I couldn’t help but detect the concern in her voice, and in her eyes as well. Kind of sweet, but hey, I’m not three years old anymore. And I’m battle tested.
“That’s right,” I said, trying to act nonchalant. “It’s no biggie.”
“You are aware that this is the first time you’ve gone after a monster in the top ten.”
“I hadn’t thought of it in exactly that way,” I said. “You’re suggesting that things are going to get more dangerous for me?”
“That’s putting it very mildly,” she said. “You make the slightest mistake, the tiniest misstep, Number 6 isn’t going to give you a chance to make a second one. Look what happened to your father and me. You could die this time. Do you understand what that means?”
I nodded slowly, remembering the worst night of my life, when I was three. The screams of my mom and dad, the gunfire blasting through our house. The fear as I crouched, cornered in the darkness as The Prayer came down the stairs.
“Thanks for the wake-up call, Mom. I’ll be careful. And clever and resourceful, and devious if that’s what it takes. Number 6 is up to something . . . world shaking. I have to do this.”
Then my mother did something that I think moms must have been invented for. She hugged me hard and kissed me on the forehead. She knew exactly what I needed somehow. Then she pinched my cheek, which she always does. I’ve never understood it, but I let her get away with it every time.
Chapter 17
“OKAY, GUYS,” I said with a yawn. “Thanks for all your help. And counsel. I’ve got a big day ahead. Murderous aliens to catch, you know.”
“Daniel,” said my father. “You’re not ready for Number 6. I wouldn’t have been ready for Number 6. Even your mother and I working together would be no match for this fiend.”
“Wait a second. No way!” Pork Chop said as my mom put her arm around her shoulder. “We can’t leave now! There’s still five minutes of my show left. I’ve never even seen this episode before. I want to see what happens to Sideshow Bob. Mom!”
But then they were gone, and I clicked off the TV set.
I stood for a moment, taking in all the peace and quiet. And loneliness, I thought, looking at the empty plates on the counter.
And fear.
And paranoia.
After I finished cleaning up, I decided to crash right there on the couch.
I closed my eyes—and almost instantly I saw The Prayer. “Ergent Seth will destroy you,” he said. “Go back to Portland. Join the circus. Get a girlfriend if you can. Get an identity, Daniel X. Have a life. For a little while. Until I come for you.”
Great. Now my biggest enemies were parenting me. Guess that’s what can happen when you’re all alone in the world.
Chapter 18
I DIDN’T SLEEP very well that night, barely an hour. No big surprise there, I guess. Who needs sleep anyway?
It was a quarter to eight the next morning when I reached Glendale High School. I wanted to try to blend into the community, and especially avoid a truant squad run-in like the one in Portland. So I decided I’d better at least sign up for school.
Plus, I’m sure I didn’t want to admit it then, but maybe The Prayer’s words in my dream were starting to get to me. Until I come for you.
I stopped by the front steps, taking in the swirl of relatively carefree students unloading from the buses and minivans. I was a little skittish, but also excited at the thought of hanging out with people my own age.
I hadn’t been to high school in, well, ever, actually.
“Hi, I’m Daniel Hopper,” I said to the secretary behind the counter in the main office. “My mom said she faxed over my paperwork. Is it okay?”
The middle-aged woman checked a clipboard on the desk behind her.
“Oh, yes. Here you are, Daniel. Did you bring documentation from your last school?”
Not likely. “Right here,” I said, handing over a forged birth certificate and Social Security card. The previous records I’d invented were from a fictitious private school in Haneyville, Kentucky.
“Welcome to Glendale High, Daniel,” she said, pointing at a door beside her. “Go inside and see Vice Principal Marshman. He’ll help you schedule your classes.”
Chapter 19
I THANKED THE SECRETARY and opened the vice principal’s door in a cautious, respectful way. Mr. Marshman was a wide, flabby, middle-aged fellow, and the school’s head football coach, I gathered from the framed ar
ticles covering the wall behind his wrecking ball of a head. He was on the phone when I entered. “I know you booked the bus for the debating team, Leopoldo. But how many times are my guys going to get the chance to go to UCLA and watch the Bruins practice? I gotta go. End of debate. You lose.”
“Hi, I’m —” I started as he hung up the phone with a bang.
“I know exactly who you are, son,” the vice principal said. “Around here, students speak to staff, and especially me, only when spoken to. Let me see your records.”
I handed them over. “Sure.”
“Not one sport?” he said with a shake of his head. “I see you did get perfect attendance. I bet they gave you a shiny blue ribbon and everything back in Kentucky,” he said, laying on the sarcasm.
Was it me, or did the vice principal have some kind of anger management issue? I let out a breath, trying not to take his attitude personally. I like to give everybody a second chance.
“You do well academically,” he said with a snort. “What’s your favorite subject?”
Since I had the encyclopedic power to telepathically access human knowledge, that was a tough call. I noticed Civil War books on a shelf behind his desk.
“History, sir,” I said.
He turned and stared at the Civil War books on his shelf, then back at me with a who-do-you-think-you’re-fooling look.
“What a coincidence,” he said, letting my records drop to the desk.
I glanced out the window behind him. Under a pure blue sky, palm trees were softly swaying in the seventy-two-degree Southern California breeze.
And I chose to attend school why again?
“Okay, history buff. I’ll bump you into first-period Advanced Social Studies. The one I teach,” he said, standing, as the bell rang.
Call me overly paranoid, but I wondered if maybe Mr. Marshman was somewhere on my List.
Chapter 20
SO THIS WAS HIGH SCHOOL—not too bad, not too good, could have been a lot more stimulating. I was coming out of bio lab, my last class of the day, when I brushed against a skinny freshman hurrying down the hall. He looked nervous and scared, and I felt kind of bad for the guy.