Chapter Two

"When I saw you I fell in love. And you smiled because you knew." - Arrigo Boito

We are twenty miles from Paradise.

Six has switched spots with Sam so that she can be closer to the window. She's managed to turn the car, and all of use, invisible four times, and the effort is taking its toll. She looks exhausted and there is a constant sheet of sweat on her brow.

Sam hands her a bottle of water that he has been trying to keep cool in the small cooler in the bed of the truck. She accepts it with a weak smile and drinks the contents gratefully. The radio cracks in the background as we start to pick up Paradise radio stations.

I turn up the radio when the news anchor starts talking about the small town.

"An unexpected system of powerful storms unleashed tornadoes and flooding across the Midwest yesterday morning. A slow-moving storm packing tornadoes and hail battered rural Ohio, tearing up trees, destroying houses, and eliminating all contact with the small town of Paradise, southwest of Cleveland. Communication with the town is still down, but local police departments expect to establish radio contact soon."

I turn to Sam, eyes wide.

He shakes his head and whips out his laptop. "I don't remember hearing anything about that," he says in a panic. He types fast, pulling up a website I cannot see. Seconds later, he curses. "This thing came out of nowhere. Nowhere." He turns the screen towards me, and I glance to it and then back to the road multiple times while he explains.

"See this air pressure right here?" He circles a red line that is flowing north. "This is warm air. The only way to create a storm is if a low pressure system meets this." He hits the spacebar on the laptop and the picture starts to move. In second, a blue line manifests itself out of nowhere and hits the red line. "Which is exactly what happened at one forty-seven yesterday morning. But there was no warning. This system just…created itself above Paradise."

I don't say anything; just continue to watch the looping footage. Six has propped herself up against the door and I glance to her briefly. We are both thinking the same thing but realize that it is impossible. We know Loric can control the elements. Six, herself can do it. And we both know none of us would join the Mogadorians. None of us would ever do that…

"Watch it!" Sam shuts his laptop and braces himself for impact.

My eyes snap towards the road and I swerve just in time to veer around a fallen power line. Then a large oak that has fallen across the road. I can barely see out of the line of my headlights, but I pick up dark shapes out of my peripherals. I slow down as we pass the small Welcome to Paradise, Ohio: Population 5, 243. Trees have been uprooted from the ground and some of the houses have lost their roofs.

The town is deserted.

We crawl along at a snail's pace so that I can avoid all of the debris that has been blown across the road. Cars have had their windows shatter by hail. Branches have been broken off the trees that have not fallen down or been uprooted by the storm.

With each passing second, the pit of despair in my stomach grows. I am no longer afraid of what I might find at the Hart residence. I am terrified.

"Holy…" Sam sits forward in the seat, eyes roaming the devastation.

Even Six is paying attention, though she still looks completely drained. "How did they find out?" she mumbles. "We left no trace."

"But they knew we were here." I stress. "Maybe they figured that out of all the time we spent here, we left something of importance behind." I nearly snarl the last part, disgusted with myself. Because they were right.

"We're gonna find her," Sam reassures. But his voice is so weak; I don't think he even believes himself. I know what he is thinking. We will find her. It's just I'm afraid how we are going to find her. Looking around at the devastation, I know the chances can't be good.

I nearly break down when we pull up to Sarah's driveway. A tree has fallen onto the right side of the house, and the woodwork above the front stoop has been ripped free. The gravel shifts against the tires of the truck as I pull to a stop and switch off the engine.

I jump out of the truck, Sam close on my heels. My heart is hammering against my ribcage and I'm afraid it might break through. I realize my legacies are fueled by emotion and take advantage of that. The wooden beams lying diagonally across the entrance to the destroyed home are pushed away with a simple flick of my hand.

"Sarah!" I yell once I get inside the house. I stagger over fallen beams. I look to the stairs, which seem to be still in tacked.

"Don't try it," Sam pleads from behind me. "Those don't look sturdy."

"She might be up there."

"Sarah!" Sam yells, cupping him hands over his mouth. He waits intently in the silence.

There is nothing.

He looks to me and shakes his head ever so slightly.

"Then where?" I snap.

Part of the house to my left collapses and Six curses as she staggers in. "We need to make this quick," she says, keeping a hand against the doorframe for support. I cannot tell if the damage inside the house is from the storm or the Mogadorians. I figure that's what they had wanted. To disguise their attack on the small town with the storm.

I push into the kitchen. Bernie Kosar runs past my legs and goes straight to the basement door. He plops down, and scratches against the broken frame with a whine. He turns to look at me, his eyes large and watery. I don't know if dogs can cry, but he is close to it.

There is something in his look that stops my heart. I freeze for a second, realizing that I am not ready for what I might find down there. If Sarah Hart is dead, I will be too.

After a second of hesitation, I rush forward, yelling, "Over here!"

The stairs are in mild condition and squeak under my weight. The ceiling in sagging to my right and I realize the support beam has been taken out. Several overhead beams have fallen, some still attacked to the ceiling on one end. An eerie light flickers in from the multiple broken windows. When I step into the basement and move a fallen piece of wood out of my way, I hear something.

It sounds like a voice. Weak and fragile, but a voice all the same. I scan the darkness and then lift up my hand. My legacy flickers on and I sweep over the room.

I find her to my right.

"Sarah!" I yell and vault over a beam lying in my path. Wood has fallen on top of her and I push it away in seconds.

She has been tied to a chair, her hands secured behind her back. Her ankles have been fastened to the legs and the chair has been tipped sideways. By the Mogadorians or the storm, I do not know. Her wrists have been rubbed raw and the ropes are caked red. The left side of her face is smeared with blood from a deep cut in her hairline.

"Sarah…Sarah?" I whisper, brushing away the hair that has fallen into her face. I nearly jump back in surprise.

Her eyes are half open and she is panting irregularly. "…John?..." she whispers.

My throat closes up on me. "Yeah, I'm here," I manage. How long has she been conscious? Ever since this happened? God, I can't even imagine…

I can feel Sam behind me, but he is keeping his distance. Six staggers past him and crouches.

"…stupid…" Sarah whispers, panting. "…you shouldn't…have come…"

Six withdrawals a knife and cuts each one of Sarah's ankles free. Her legs fall to the floor and her hips turn. She grits her teeth and whimpers, tears streaming down her cheeks. Six cuts the ropes around Sarah's wrists swiftly. She falls forward and I catch her around the shoulders.

To my horror, the back of the chair is smeared with blood. I feel the red substance on my hands just as my mind tells me that it's coming from Sarah. I lift up her shirt and find blue and purple bruises, deep and painful. Ribs are broken. To the bottom right of her abdomen there is a hole seeping blood. An identical exit wound is on her back.

"Look," Sam whispers, pointing to a metal rod lying a few feet away. It's caked with blood. Sarah's blood. I clench my fist in rage and grind it against the floor.

Sam crouches close to me and picks up something that I can't recognize. After a moment of analysis he shows it to me. It is a DVD and Number Four is scribbled on the case. My jaw locks and Sam pockets the disk.

Bernie Kosar starts to bark and whine. The beagle walking in circles.

"We have to leave," Six looks up, "Now."

"Don't talk," I say to Sarah and turn to Sam, "Can you help me with her?"

He nods and visibly swallows, stepping forward.

I lift Sarah up, try to ignore her small cries of pain and slip my arm around her back. She lifts her arm and puts it around my shoulder. Sam stands on the other side and tries to lift her right arm, but her cry makes him flinch.

"…something's…wrong…" she says between clenched teeth.

Sam nods and runs his hand along her shoulder and arm. "It's dislocated," he informs us moments later. Instead of lifting her arm, he wraps his around her waist, ignores the blood and helps us take a step forward.

Sarah limps heavily and bits her lip. We take another step. Then another. Slowly we move up the stairs and maneuver through the kitchen. The trek takes everything from Sarah and when we exit her house, Sam and I are practically carrying her.

There are angry shouts in the distance and my adrenaline starts to rage.

"Get in the bed!" I yell at Sam, who runs towards the truck, picks up Bernie Kosar and jumps in the back. He throws the clothe bags into the front cabin through the small window while Six jumps into the driver's seat and turns on the engine.

I stumble to the back of the truck with Sarah. In one massive push off, I launch her and myself into the bed. As soon as my feet hit the metal Six throws the truck into drive and speeds down what's remaining of the Hart's gravel driveway.

A group of four Mogadorians emerge from the woods to our left, yelling and aiming weapons. With a roar of rage, I rip the left side of Sarah's house away and drop it on the scouting party. I cannot enjoy my kill for very long before Sam is calling my name.

I turn and collapse next to Sarah, who's chest is rising in short, desperate pants.

"Healing stone?" Sam asks in a frantic voice.

I shake my head. "It's been too long," I mumble. The truck jerks and I fall backwards, landing hard on my butt. I look at Sarah, lock with her eyes and can't seem to look away. She's bleeding. She's in pain. And it's all my fault.

"We have to stop the bleeding," Sam says in the background.

I don't move. All I can see is red. The devastation I witnessed on Lorien flashes in front of my eyes. The meaningless slaughter of my own people. Now Sarah has joined them. Another innocent hurt in this bloodthirsty war. And it seems that the only thing I can do is watch in the background, unable to do anything to stop it.

"John!" Sam slaps me hard across the cheek. I turn numbly to him, blinking in surprise. "We. Have. To. Stop. The. Bleeding." He says with urgency.

I nod and swallow. "Right," I rock to the balls of my feet. "Right. Uhh, get the bag of clothes."

Sam crouches and tries to keep his balance as he reaches through the small window leading into the cabin of the truck.

I lean over Sarah and tuck the stray hairs out of her eyes. "You're gonna be fine," I reassure. She doesn't say anything, just nods her head slightly and clenches her jaw. Her hand finds mine and I interlace our fingers.

Sam hands me the clothes bag. I unzip it and pull out a t-shirt. Gently, I lift Sarah up and slip the shirt around her stomach. I grab another shirt, place it against the through-and-through wound on her abdomen and then Sam ties the other shirt around as a bandage. She whimpers and turns her face into my chest.

"She needs to get to a hospital," Sam says, gently pressing against Sarah's dislocated shoulder.

"We can't," I whisper and Sam's mouth nearly drops open. "They'll ask too many questions. She won't be safe in such a public place, either. The Mogadorians know who she is now. They know she means something to me."

"She'll die—"

"Don't you think I know that!" I snap. I run a frantic hand over my face and feel wetness coming from the corners of my eyes. I shake my head and let out a shaky sigh, "God, I know that, Sam…"

"…I'm fine…" Sarah tries to assure us. It is a valiant effort, but she's lying through her chattering teeth.

"I do know this guy," Sam begins, pulling out one of his NASA shirts and ripping it into strips. "He's a family friend. I haven't talked to him in about four years." He takes two strips and gingerly takes Sarah's right arm. He lifts it and puts the palm of her hand close to her opposite shoulder and ties one of the strips across her wrist, securing the top of her arm to her chest. He takes the second strip and ties it down across her elbow, securing the bottom part of her arm to her stomach.

He sits back and studies his handiwork. "Does it hurt?" he asks over the howling wind.

Sarah is silent for a moment. "It feels…better," she says finally.

Sam nods and looks back to me. "Anyway. This guy I know. He used to work for Doctors Without Borders."

"What does that mean?"

"It means he was a really good doctor. And I mean really good."

I am not missing the past tense he is putting at the end of the words. But for some reason, the only thing my mind can focus on is 'friend' and 'doctor'. "Is he close?"

Sam nods. "In Cleveland. It's about an hour's drive," he pauses and bits his lip. "But I haven't talked to him in ages, John. He might not even remember me."

"Please, Sam." I glance briefly to Sarah and her half closed eyes. "Anything that might help."

Sam unhinges the sliding window that leads into the cabin of the truck. Gently, he lowers himself through the small opening and into the front. Six asks him a question that I can't hear, but given the tone of Sam's response, it is something about Sarah.

I shift my weight and lean back against the cabin, pulling Sarah into my lap. Her back rests against my chest and I wrap my arms around her shivering body.

"Hey, Mr. Harris!" I can hear the slight panic in Sam's voice. "Yeah, this is Sam Goode. Yeah, I haven't heard from you in a long time either. Look man—yeah my mom's fine—but I have to—yeah, my dad's still missing—Look, Mr. Harris—Mr. Harris! Man, seriously, I'm calling because I'm in a shit load of trouble—no, not drugs—no I didn't kill anyone—Look, it's my friend. She's hurt really bad. I need you to look at her—No. Hospitals are out. Yeah, I'm sure—Okay…Okay. Yeah. I can do that….In about forty-five minutes to an hour…Yeah, she's stable. For now we've stopped the bleeding…You still have all your stuff? That's great…Yeah I remember. Okay, just be ready, okay?...and Mr. Harris, thank you. Really, I mean that…Okay. Bye."

I hear Sam hang up and mumble something to Six. Her answer is the truck picking up pace. The next second, there is a thick blanket draped over my shoulder.

"You have to keep her warm," Sam informs me from the cabin.

I nod and lift Sarah off of me. I gently wrap the blanket around her body and then return her to my arms. She is stretched out on top of me because I fear that if I move her, her broken ribs will shift and puncture something.

"…they wanted me…to tell them where…you were…" Sarah says through chattering teeth.

It's what I have been afraid of ever since leaving. The Mogadorians have gotten lazy. Instead of looking for me directly, they're going through the people I've met. The destruction in Paradise is enough to prove that.

"Shhhh," I kiss the top of her head and wrap my arms tighter around her. "You need to stop talking. Save your strength."

"…Mark is dead…" she says in a soft voice. I look to her face and her bottom lip quivers ever so slightly. There is wetness running from the corners of her eyes and she takes a breath through her nose. "...it's how they found out…about me…"

I do not know what to say. I used to hate the man, but after he saved me and protected Sarah, I owed him so much. I am sad to think that I will never get to repay him for the courage he showed that fateful night.

"…They threatened…his parents…" she continues. "…it's why he…talked…"

I think about what she has said. I think that the Mogadorians had no leverage against her. Sarah's parents were out of town, therefore there was no way to get her to talk except torture. My stomach flips and I turn my head away, taking a deep, calming breath of the cold air whipping at my face.

Sarah Hart cares so much about other people and will do anything for someone on a dime if she thinks it will help. But she's stubborn as hell when it comes down to something that she thinks is wrong. And I know for a fact that the Mogadorians didn't get anything out of her, even with force.

There is a second that passes in silence and Sarah shifts in my arms. She rests the right side of her face against my chest and takes a small breath. "…I've missed you…so much…" she mumbles. "…How was…wherever you were?..."

There is a hint of curiosity in her voice and I chuckle lightly. I glance down to the side of her face and figure I can clean the blood off as I talk. I take another one of Sam's NASA shirts out and a bottle of water. I pour the cold liquid onto the fabric and gently dab at the dried blood on the side of her face.

"We were in St Louis," I answer. "And it was nothing like Paradise."

"…I've never been…" Sarah shakes her head slightly. "…did you get…a new name?…"

I smile. "Reid Murdock."

"…sounds like a…plant…"

"That's what I said." I look back down to the cut and realize that the only thing I can see is the black asphalt that's supposed to be underneath the car. Which is funny because I can still feel Sarah in my arms. I just can't see her.

"Hold tight," Sam says from the cabin and I can faintly hear the tick of the police scanner.

In the distance I can hear sirens. More than one. Seconds later, a line of cop cars speed past us on the other side of the road, red and blue lights flashing. Six lets a beat pass before she lets up on the invisibility.

"They're going to Paradise," Sam says.

"…They won't…find much," Sarah mutters. She licks her lips and rests her head back against my chest. "Did you meet…anyone in St. Louis?..."

"You mean did I meet any girls?" I chuckle at her attempt at nonchalance. When will she realize that I've already found my love? "Yes, I did meet girls. Though none of them were you."

I can feel her smile against my chest. The blood is gone, though the large gash remains. Her face, which usually harbors her signature smile, is pale and ashen. And I realize that she is losing too much blood. Or had lost too much blood before we had even gotten to her house.

Sarah lets out a shaky breath, and the air that leaves her mouth fogs out in front of her face. I panic slightly, "Are you cold?"

"…freezing…"

I open up the blanket a fraction of an inch and lift up her shirt. Her stomach snaps taunt against the cold and I place my hands against the skin under her secured right arm. I close my eyes and will my hands to glow. The light won't do anything, but my hands get hot whenever I turn them on.

Sarah turns her face into my chest and presses deeper into me. "They're warm," she mumbles. She takes a deep, shaky breath and says, "You're going…to kick their ass…for me, right?"

There's something in her voice that makes me feel like crying. "Of course I am," I laugh, trying to hide the panic. "And you'll be there to see it." She doesn't say anything and I can feel my shirt getting wet where her eyes are. I swallow the lump in my throat. "What college did you decide on?"

She wipes her eyes against my chest and sniffs once. "…The Academy of Art…University out of San Francisco. I've already…done early decision….I'll be going…in the fall."

I smile with pride. Based on my research, it's one of the top schools in the nation for photography. "I've been to California," I tell her, "A long time ago."

She nods in understanding but doesn't say anything.

"Sarah, you have to stay awake for me," I say in her ear. "You have to stay with me."

"I don't want to die, John," she whispers.

"You're not going to die, Sarah," I answer, and I nearly choke on them. I kiss the top of her head and then rest mine against the side of hers. "I still remember the first day I ever saw you," I say, and underneath the blanket I interlace our fingers.

"You were so shy," she laughs softly.

"And you were the most stunning person I'd ever seen."

We sit like that, my face inches from hers, in the bed of the truck. I tell her stories of times before I came to Paradise and make her ask questions and participate. I have to keep her talking, because if I can't hear her voice, then I don't know if she's okay.

And if Sarah Hart does not make it, then I will give up on everything.