I glance over at Sarah. It’s so hard to believe this is the same girl I went to high school with. What really throws me is that we’re having a conversation about artillery training.
“Been coming in here a lot, actually,” she continues. “John doesn’t sleep much. When he does, it’s all tossing and turning. And then he slips out of bed in the morning to go brood on the roof. He thinks I don’t notice, but I do.”
I smirk at Sarah, arching an eyebrow. “Sharing a bed, huh?”
She kicks at me playfully. “Whatever, Sam. There are only so many bedrooms. It’s not what you think, though. There’s something really not romantic about hiding from murderous alien invaders, you know? Not to mention I don’t like the idea of Eight just teleporting in or something.” She squints at me. “Even so, don’t tell my parents.”
“Your secret’s safe with me,” I tell her. “Us humans have to stick together.”
I finish reconnecting the wires and something hums to life inside the Lectern. One of the panels along the wall suddenly juts out like a piston, then retracts.
“What’s that for?” Sarah asks.
“It’s like combat-simulation stuff, I guess. Nine told me his Cêpan had all kind of obstacles and traps set up in here.”
Sarah knocks on the floor in front of her. Something metallic rattles beneath her hand and she jerks back. “Maybe I should watch where I’m sitting.”
I stop messing with the wires, wanting to wait for my dad before I go any further and also not wanting to accidentally trigger some kind of spike trap under Sarah.
Sarah gently touches my arm. “So why aren’t you sleeping, Sam?”
Without realizing it, I find that I’m rubbing the scars on my wrists. “I had a lot of time to think when I was a prisoner,” I tell her.
“I know what you mean.”
Well, there’s another thing Sarah and I have in common. “I spent a lot of time thinking about John and the others. About how I could help them.”
“And?”
I open up my hands, showing Sarah what I came up with: a whole lot of nothing.
“Oh,” she says. “Well, there’s always the crossbow.”
“I’m worried I won’t be able to help. Like sooner or later I’ll end up captured again, or worse, and that’ll just screw things up for the others. Then I hear a story like Eight told tonight and I wonder if maybe it wouldn’t have been better if John had left me in Paradise like Eight left those soldiers. Like maybe he’d be better off without having to worry about me.”
“Or me,” Sarah says, frowning.
“I didn’t mean that,” I say hurriedly.
“It’s okay,” Sarah says, touching my arm. “It’s okay because you’re wrong, Sam. John and the others do need us. And there are things we can do.”
I nod, wanting to believe her, but then I look down at the scars on my wrists and remember what Setrákus Ra told me in West Virginia. I fall silent. Sarah hops to her feet, holding her hand out.
“For starters,” she says, “we could go make some breakfast. They probably won’t make us honorary Loriens for it, but it’s a start.”
I force a smile and climb to my feet. Sarah doesn’t let go of my hand. She’s looking at the dark purple scars on my wrists.
“Whatever happened to you, Sam,” she says, holding my gaze, “it’s over now. You’re safe.”
Before I can respond, a piercing shriek erupts from one of the bedrooms.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
I JOLT AWAKE AS SOON AS ELLA STARTS SCREAMING. It was my night to stay with her and it had gone by peacefully. We’d stayed up late talking about the new arrivals and what Malcolm Goode had told us about Pittacus Lore and the possibility of helpful Mogadorians. Ella had finally fallen asleep and I’d hoped that maybe the nightmares plaguing her since New Mexico were finally gone for good. She hadn’t had one since reading Crayton’s letter. Maybe it was all stress related after all. Now that she’d gotten over the anxiety of that unopened letter, things could get back to normal.
I should’ve known better.
“Ella. Ella, wake up!” I shout, trying to decide if I should shake her. I’m feeling a little panicked, especially when she doesn’t immediately snap awake. Ella digs at the blankets with her fingers, kicking her heels into the mattress, all while belting out steadily hoarser screams. She’s moving about so much that she almost falls out of the bed. I reach out to steady her.
As soon as I touch Ella’s shoulder, an image pops into my mind. I’m not sure where it comes from. It feels like when Ella talks to me telepathically, except there’ve never been visuals to go along with her mental voice.
What I see is horrible. It’s Chicago, the same lakefront area where Eight and I wandered around just the other day. There are bodies strewn everywhere. Human bodies. The sky is filled with columns of smoke from nearby fires. The surface of the lake is covered in something viscous and black, like oil. I can hear screams. Smell the burning. Hear explosions in the distance . . .
I pull away from Ella with a gasp. Just like that, the vision is gone. I’m out of breath, shaking, my stomach feeling queasy.
Ella has stopped screaming. She’s awake now, looking up at me with wide, scared eyes. I glance over at the clock and realize less than a minute has passed since Ella first started screaming.
“You saw it too?” she whispers.
I nod, not sure how to answer, much less describe what I just saw. How is it possible that I just found myself in Ella’s dream?