Armageddon

by James Patterson

  Gee. Could you be a little more vague? I was starting to question the whole notion of “horse sense” meaning sound and practical. This particular equine specimen kept speaking to me in riddles. You’re my spiritual advisor, right?

  The stallion dipped its head slightly. That I am, mon.

  Then come on: Advise me! What do I need to do?

  Soon, much. For the moment? Chill. Rest and restore your powers. For you will need each and every one of them—now more than ever.

  Chapter 14

  FOLLOWING DOCTOR’S ORDERS (make that spiritual advisor’s orders) meant it was time for some serious R and R—rest and relaxation.

  Xanthos was right: If I was going to go up against Number 2, I needed to be tanned, rested, and ready to rock. I needed all my powers at my command.

  So we went horseback riding.

  “Show me what you can do!” I shouted as we cantered across a grassy field.

  Xanthos gave me one of his cheery chuckles and hit the gas. Soon we were galloping across a blurred sea of green. We didn’t throttle all the way up to Mach One—we didn’t want our sonic boom to shatter all the windows up in Agent Judge’s farmhouse—but we did move faster than I’ve ever traveled on the back of any animal, stampeding elephants included.

  Would you like to fly? I heard Xanthos ask in my mind.

  Visions of Pegasus, the winged horse from Greek mythology, danced through my head. Can you do that?

  Well, not in front of our human hosts, but yah. Four-legged Pfeerdians are famous for flight.

  Try saying that four times fast.

  “Then,” I cried out, “let’s do it!”

  Grab hold of my mane, mon. Hang on tight.

  I gripped his bristly white withers in my fist and, at my signal, we lifted off. It was like I was floating on a carousel (without the corny calliope music, thank you very much), bobbing up and down—only wooden horses can’t soar across open fields like a Ferrari in fifth gear.

  We were zooming along, maybe three feet off the ground, skimming across the rippling grass like an air-hockey puck tooling along at warp speed. Up ahead, I saw a thicket of trees.

  Care to do a little off-roading, Daniel?

  Definitely!

  Xanthos let out another chuckle and headed for the forest. Now we were zipping through trees and underbrush, ducking under branches, scooting around stumps. Leaves, twigs, pine needles, pinecones, and maybe even a chipmunk or two (sorry about that, Emma) got sucked into the swirling vortex of our wake.

  I could see a roaring creek, maybe twenty feet wide, coming up.

  “Let’s jump it!”

  With pleasure, mon.

  We reached the bank, bounded up, and sailed above the stream.

  Until we weren’t flying anymore.

  Suddenly Xanthos stalled, tucked in his forelegs, let out a frightened whinny, and belly-flopped into the creek.

  My saddle slipped sideways. I slid down his flank with one foot still stuck in a stirrup. Finally kicking free, I fell into the water headfirst—my second water-slide ride in less than twenty-four hours.

  Fortunately, the rapids were shallow.

  Unfortunately, they were lined with rocks.

  But since it was a sweltering-hot summer day, the dunk was actually kind of invigorating—I mean, once I got over the shock of the temperature plunge and the embarrassment of looking like a klutz.

  When I came up, soaking wet and sputtering water, I once again heard Xanthos’s voice in my head.

  Sorry about that, mon. He nudged his muzzle toward the shoreline. But we have an unexpected observer.

  Chapter 15

  UP ON THE creek bank, mounted on a chestnut-brown mare, I saw a very cute girl.

  Very, as in extremely.

  She was wearing jeans, knee-high boots, a snug T-shirt with a cool I RIDE graphic, riding gloves, and one of those velvety black helmets with a button on top. She looked to be my age, and she had fair skin, blond hair (tucked up under the helmet), and the most amazing laugh I had ever heard—even if she was laughing at me.

  “Ride much?” she said.

  “Um, not really.”

  I sloshed a little closer to the shore, the creek water squishing in my sneakers. I wanted to see if the girl’s eyes were really as brilliantly blue as the summer sky. Behind me, Xanthos whinnied and neighed and pawed at the water. My spiritual advisor was putting on a big act, pretending to be a humble horse.

  The girl dismounted, came to the shore, shot out her hand, and helped me haul myself out of the creek.

  Her eyes? Even bluer than the sky. We’re talking sapphires.

  “Did you hurt yourself?” she asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

  “Not really. Just dented my pride a little, I guess.”

  “Hey, we all fall off now and then. The trick is being brave enough to climb back on.”

  I could’ve given her a cocky grin and bounded back up into the saddle like I had a rocket pack on my back. I could’ve recited a Shakespearean sonnet, or a few verses from a cheesy Hallmark Valentine’s Day card. I could’ve said or done something super sappy to try to describe the fluttering feeling flipping around in my stomach.

  But I didn’t.

  I just stood there, soaking wet, gazing into the most amazingly awesome eyes I had ever gazed, gawked, or gaped into. Eyes more incredible than Dana’s, and Dana is, quite literally, the girl of my dreams.

  Dana.

  That’s exactly who this girl on the horse reminded me of. Only she wasn’t a product of my imagination! This girl, as far as I could tell, was real.

  Oh, yes, Daniel—she is quite real, I heard Xanthos say in my head. Her name is Mel, short for Melody, a name that suits her personality quite well, yah? She is like the song you hear in the morning and cannot get out of your head all day. Heh, heh, heh.

  This time, I chuckled along with my spiritual advisor.

  She is also Agent Judge’s daughter.

  I grinned.

  You were right about Kentucky, I thought back to Xanthos. It is extremely heavenly, mon.

  Chapter 16

  TURNS OUT I wasn’t the first alien Mel had ever met.

  “One time, Dad brought home this super-friendly turtle-type thingy.”

  We were walking along a bridle path, leading our horses by their reins. Butterflies were flitting all around—or maybe that was just in my stomach.

  “Her name was Jenn Jenn,” said Mel.

  “The turtle-type thingy?”

  She laughed. “Well, that’s what she looked like. She was in the witness protection program or something. I think Jenn Jenn was helping my dad track down an alien he kept calling ‘Number 5.’ ”

  I nodded. I had met the fifth-foulest fiend on the planet. I had also terminated him.

  “Anyway,” said Mel, “Jenn Jenn and I hung out for a couple weeks. She was wicked good at chess. And you did not want to watch Jeopardy! with her, because Jenn Jenn knew all the questions before Alex Trebek even finished reading the answers!”

  I nodded. “Probably from Sulleean. Super-intelligent creatures. They’re basically a big brain wobbling around on four feet, with a tiny head that pokes out when they need to eat or scan something.”

  “Or play Jeopardy!,” added Mel.

  “Right. That tortoiseshell? It’s actually an exoskeletal skull.”

  “Really? Wow. It sure was cool-looking. Swirly, luminous colors, like on a bowling ball. Do you guys have bowling up on Alpar Nok?”

  “We have something similar. But you need a zero-gravity playing field, suborbital meteorites, and an asteroid belt.”

  “Really? Do you wear the belt?”

  “No, an asteroid belt is—”

  She poked me in the ribs with her elbow. “Kidding!”

  I smiled. She smiled. Yes, it was an official smilefest.

  “So,” said Mel, “seeing how you’re already soaked, you want to hit my favorite swimming hole? It’s up that dirt road a couple miles. We could ride there.�
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  “Is it on your property?”

  “No. Our neighbor’s. But they don’t mind. I swim there all the time.”

  Do not stray outside the secure perimeter, said a small voice inside my head, and this time it wasn’t Xanthos, although he did chime in with a Yah, mon. Very, very bad idea. Do not go looking for trouble. You will find it soon enough.

  I had to agree with Dr. X, which is what I had decided to call Xanthos since he was quickly becoming my built-in Dr. Phil, constantly dispensing pearls of wisdom and loads of tough love. I knew that Number 2 and his hench-thugs from the bat cave were still out there, still passing around my WANTED poster, still gunning for me. And if Mel happened to be with me when some alien bounty hunter finally tracked me down, the creep would not discriminate. It would blast her to smithereens, too.

  Yes, I needed to rest and restore my powers.

  But I did not need to be stupid.

  “I have a better idea,” I said.

  “What?”

  “You ever ride an elephant?”

  Chapter 17

  “THAT. WAS. SO. Amazing!”

  With Dr. X’s permission, I had just transformed both of our horses into giant pachyderms.

  “How did you do that?”

  I gave Mel the standard magician’s answer: “Quite well, don’t you think?”

  “No, really, Daniel. Where did these elephants come from?”

  I shrugged. “My imagination.”

  “Wow. Einstein was so totally right!”

  “Huh?”

  “Albert Einstein. Frizzy hair? Genius? E equals mc squared?”

  I nodded. I knew the guy. I had even proven several of his theories, like that one where he said, “The separation between past, present, and future is only an illusion, although a convincing one.” That was so true.

  “Oh, by the way,” said Mel, “was Einstein an alien, too?”

  “Sorry,” I said with a grin. “I am not at liberty to divulge that information.”

  “Well, anyway, Einstein said, ‘Imagination is more important than knowledge.’ ”

  I went ahead and finished the rest of the quote: “ ‘For knowledge is limited to all we now know and understand, while imagination embraces the entire world, and all there ever will be to know and understand.’ ”

  “Exactly,” said Mel. “So, can you create anything you dream up?”

  “I guess. But I have to grok it first.”

  “Oh, like in Stranger in a Strange Land?” said Mel.

  “You’ve read Robert A. Heinlein’s book?”

  “Well, duh,” said Mel. “Hasn’t everybody?”

  “Well…”

  “To grok is to understand something so thoroughly that the observer becomes part of the observed! It’s like you totally drink it in!”

  We continued our discussion of grokking, and Alpar Nok, and whether Justin Bieber was an alien as we plodded across the rolling fields, swaying in the basket seats on the backs of our giant elephants (I had supersized our mastodons because they’re even cooler to ride when they’re the size of massive woolly mammoths). Even Dr. X was enjoying the ride.

  I have always wanted to walk a mile in my brudda’s hooves, he said in my head. Thank you, Daniel, for making it possible.

  You’re welcome, brudda, I thought back, aping his reggae slang for “brother.” But are you a hundred percent certain this is what I need to be doing right now? I’m extremely worried about Number 2.

  What are you so worried about?

  That I won’t be ready to take him down when this battle you keep talking about finally takes place. I don’t even know who or what I’m up against. The List draws a total blank on his powers, his planet of origin, his—

  Worry is wasted energy, Daniel. It is like praying for things you don’t really want.

  But…

  This is very important, your time with Mel.

  How?

  You are experiencing humanity at its best. Joy. Friendship. Perhaps even the first inklings of love, yah?

  Whoa, ease up, Dr. X. Hold your horses. This is our first date and, technically, it’s not even a date. It’s just a horse ride that, you know, turned into an elephant ride.

  Heh, heh, heh. Savor this moment, Daniel. Drink it in and, as you say, grok it. For the time is coming when hate will seem to conquer love. And Daniel?

  Yes?

  You must not let the darkness win!

  Chapter 18

  “SO, DANIEL,” MEL said after I turned our elephants back into horses. “What’s next?”

  Mel was radiant. Happiness filled her face. To tell the truth, I was feeling pretty giddy, too.

  “I dunno,” I said. “What do you want to do?”

  “I dunno. Hey—there’s this really cool cave up at the base of that hill. We could go in there, and you could turn the bats into flying dinosaurs or something, and the horses could be like brontosauruses….”

  Great, I thought. Another bat cave.

  “Or we could eat,” said Joe as he climbed over the white fence behind the horse barn, followed by Emma, Willy, and, of course, Dana.

  Yes, I had conjured up my four friends.

  You know what it’s like when you meet somebody who you think is pretty great: you want to make sure your old friends like your new friend as much as you do. Plus, having the gang around meant I could avoid Mel’s spelunking idea. What can I say? I’d already fulfilled my subterranean adventure quota for the year.

  “Mel,” I said, “these are my best friends: Joe, Willy, his sister, Emma—”

  “I love your horses, you guys!” Emma gushed as she rushed over to stroke their manes. “Can I feed them an apple?”

  “Sure,” said Mel.

  “Um, Daniel?”

  “Yes, Emma?”

  “Apples?”

  “Coming right up.” I snapped my fingers and materialized Emma a bushel full of Granny Smiths, Macintoshes, Braeburns, and Galas—with a couple of carrot stalks and sugar cubes stuffed in down the sides to make it a gourmet gift basket.

  “So, Daniel,” said Dana, “aren’t you going to introduce me to your new… friend?”

  Okay, this was going to be a wee bit awkward.

  How does a guy introduce his dream girl to the girl of his dreams—or vice versa?

  Dr. X? I mentally checked in with my trusted steed and advisor.

  But all he did was chuckle. Heh, heh, heh.

  I had to handle this one all by myself.

  Welcome to the joys of being a teenage boy.

  Chapter 19

  WHILE MEL AND Emma fed apples to the horses and Joe and Willy brushed them down, Dana and I slipped away to have A Conversation.

  I hate Conversations.

  “Come on, Dana. Go easy on Mel. She’s nice.”

  “Oh, yes. She’s swell.”

  “Wait a second,” I said. “Are you jealous?”

  “Of course. NOT!”

  Fortunately, Joe came to my rescue.

  “I’m starving,” he said. “Where’s the nearest Kentucky Fried Chicken?”

  Mel heard that and laughed.

  “What?” said Joe. “This is Kentucky, is it not?”

  “We don’t eat fried chicken every day,” said Mel.

  “No chicken for me,” said Emma. “I don’t eat anything with a face.”

  The six of us swept into the kitchen through the back door and I was all set to materialize our finger-lickin’ good feast when Agent Judge stormed into the room.

  “You need to see this, Daniel. Now.”

  He snapped on an under-the-counter TV set. A horrific news report from Washington, D.C., filled the screen.

  The time for R and R was officially over.

  As I watched I was sickened by the image of the gleaming marble sides of the Washington Monument appearing to crackle with spidery fissure lines, like a shattering sheet of ice.

  Giant marble slabs slid down the sides of the obelisk, like the walls of a crumbling glacier. The deaf
ening roar of the thunderous rockslide rumbled across Washington, D.C., as Number 2 brought down the world’s tallest stone structure. Five hundred and fifty-five feet of marble, granite, and sandstone crumbled before his glowering red eyes, sending up a billowing cloud of dust and destruction that blotted out the sun and darkened the sky.

  As if this weren’t sickening enough, I heard a voice from the newscast that was all too familiar. And it was talking to me.

  “See this and know who I am, Daniel X!” Number 2 whispered, unfurling his enormous black wings. “This is all for you!”

  Chapter 20

  IT WAS THE Fourth of July, and the second-deadliest alien in the universe was enjoying the most spectacular “fireworks” display the nation’s capital had ever seen.

  He had already torched the White House, charring its ruins black.

  He had laid waste to the Lincoln Memorial, rolling the sainted president’s sculpted head into a rat-infested sewer.

  He had crushed the Capitol Building, flattening its Great Rotunda as if the cast-iron dome were nothing more than an aluminum Coke can.

  Meanwhile, his alien army was sweeping like a plague of locusts across the metropolitan area to usher survivors down into the abyss.

  His name was Abbadon.

  Hoping to enslave millions, he quickly assumed the guise of a concerned newscaster and infiltrated the earthlings’ television broadcasts, as well as their Internet, cell phones, and encrypted National Security networks. His face filled video screens everywhere.

  “People of Washington, D.C., if you wish to live, flee your homes and join me underground. The world as you have known it is nearing its apocalyptic end. Come to me and survive. Refuse me and die.”

  Everywhere, flecks of debris drifted down from the ominous sky like mammoth gray snowflakes. Those who wished to survive stampeded toward the underground entrances to Washington’s Metro system, where Abbadon had stationed his minions, all of whom, as had been decreed ages ago, now appeared with locust wings and scorpion tails.