Manuel stared at the smoke. Feathery plumes drifted from the hole in the pod, encircling each other, weaving in and out. The smoke reminded Manuel of the Mountain of Rhema, the breath of the Source. But there was no way that the breath of the Source could be coming out of a skypod from Skot’os.
“It’s kind of pretty,” said Mary.
The operator of the drill, giving up on starting it again, reversed the truck and began extracting the rod. More plumes of white smoke burst from the hole, swirling around the pod in delicate waves.
“That’s very strange,” said Manuel. “No Ents.”
“No what?” said Mary.
The white smoke drifted over the heads of the workers and policemen, splintering into several separate strands that danced and wove around each other in twisting, curling ribbons. Murmurs swept the crowd, excited and a bit apprehensive as to what this smoke could be. Yet the swirling bands of smoke were so beautiful and tantalizing that no one tried to run away. In fact, they were moving toward the smoke, breaking through the yellow tape, overrunning the cops.
“They’re so beautiful!” Mary exclaimed. One misty ribbon unfurled before her, and she moved toward it.
“No, don’t touch it—” Manuel cautioned, but Mary ignored him. It was like she didn’t even hear him. “Stop her, Rook!”
Rook grabbed Mary’s arm and pulled her back. He spun her around to face them and Manuel saw, to his horror, that Mary’s eyes had turned almost completely white.
“The smoke! It’s infecting her somehow!” he exclaimed. “Miss Stanton! Close your eyes!”
Rook raised his seed in his fist, deploying his shield around the three of them. As soon as the shield covered Mary, she blinked rapidly, the blue of her eyes returning.
“What are you doing?” she said to Rook, as if annoyed that he’d woken her from a lovely dream.
“Look!” said Manuel, pointing to a man who had reached out to touch a strand of the mist. His eyes were already pure white. His mouth opened and the mist slid down his throat.
The man became very still, as if frozen. He spasmed slightly, looking as though he were about to throw up. Spidery cracks appeared underneath the skin of his face, until it looked as though all the blood vessels had turned gray and were about to burst out of him. The veins of gray ran down his neck and to his chest, spreading to the tips of his fingers. Around the middle of his chest, a large plate of gray metal appeared, absorbing the fabric of his shirt. He began to move mechanically, as if he no longer had control of himself. Not a man at all anymore. A machine.
“What’s happening?” asked Rook in a low voice. “Seems like something has gotten inside of his body.”
“Like metal,” Manuel whispered, realizing what was happening. “The mist, it turns them to metal—but on the inside.”
“We should get out of here,” said Rook.
Manuel saw a man in a hard hat holding a megaphone. He too was moving toward one of the misty plumes. Manuel ran over to the man, grabbed his megaphone, and began shouting into it.
“Don’t look at the mist! Don’t touch it! Go home! As fast you can! I repeat—don’t look at the mist!” He shouted over and over, causing some people to obey, shaking their heads and turning away. “Run! Run as fast as you can!”
The newly transformed metal-people swiveled and began marching toward Manuel, their white eyes glaring. Manuel dropped the megaphone and ran back to Rook.
“You’re right. We should go. Now!”
Rook nodded, pointing to the truck. “Get in. Mary, you too.” He started to lead her to the truck, opening the passenger door for her.
“What’s happening!” cried Mary. “What are those—?”
“Just get in! Let’s go, Manuel!”
“But wait! My dad!” cried Manuel. “I have to go and get him!”
“Hurry!” said Rook.
Manuel deployed his seed-shield and dodged through the crowd in search of his father. As he went he shouted to those around him: “Don’t look at it! Don’t touch it!” He doubted if any of them would listen. They were moving closer and closer to the pod, their arms up in the air, reaching toward the smoke.
Manuel saw his father lying on the ground next to the drill rig. All the workers had either abandoned it or turned into metal zombies. But Mr. Santos did not seem to be infected. Manuel raced over to his dad, covering him with his shield and turning him over. He was bleeding from a large gash in his forehead.
“Papá? Are you okay?” Mr. Santos looked at him, blinking. His glasses lay beside him, crushed.
“Debris from the drill—hit me. Glasses . . . broke. I couldn’t see. Someone ran into me, knocked me down. I don’t remember what happened next—”
Manuel was grateful that his father’s glasses had broken. It meant he didn’t see the ribbons of smoke that everyone else had seen. “Get up! Can you walk? You need to come with me! But keep your head down. Look at the ground. Don’t look up.”
Mr. Santos stood up slowly, and Manuel led him back to the truck, keeping his shield raised. The crowd had begun to panic as more and more people were infected, the liquid metal running into their veins, hardening their hearts. He made it back to the truck and opened the passenger door, pushing his dad onto the seat next to a frightened and bewildered Mary. Manuel squeezed in as well, slamming the door just as one of the metallized people began pounding on the window, cracking the glass.
“Let’s go!” Manuel said. Rook stepped on the gas and peeled away from the scene. More of the transformed ones chased after them, several catching hold of the back of the truck, causing it to fishtail. Rook spun the wheel in a hard one-eighty to dislodge them, then shifted into low gear and slammed the gas pedal to the floor. The truck took off in a spray of gravel, jumped a curb, and shimmied onto the main road.
Mr. Santos looked back through the rear window at the awful creatures still trying to chase after them. “Some sort of gas . . . causes hallucinations, perhaps—”
“They are not hallucinations, Papá,” said Manuel. “They are very real.”
CHAPTER 31
The Plague
Rook drove to the Rec. It was the only place he knew they would be safe for the moment. He tried to think of what they should do, but Mary wouldn’t stop asking questions.
“What’s going on? What was that smoke? Is it alien? Did we just witness an alien invasion? Is this like that movie? Do you think they’re friendly? I need to post this picture I took. Look! Where did those zombie people come from? Maybe it was just a stunt, like for a TV show. Is that what it was?”
Rook didn’t answer. Manuel stared out the window. His father’s head lay on his shoulder. He quietly moaned in pain.
Rook pulled into the front loop of the Rec, parking as close to the door as he could. He dashed out to open the front door as Manuel and Mary helped Mr. Santos inside. Rook immediately began checking that all the windows and doors were closed tightly and the shades were drawn. Mary stood in the middle of the room, still asking questions that no one would answer.
Manuel led his father to a chair and sat him down. “Miss Stanton, I need a towel,” he called out. Mary quickly brought him a towel from the supply closet. Manuel held it to his father’s forehead, but the blood kept coming. Soon the towel was soaked through. He pressed the towel harder to stop the bleeding.
“My glasses . . .”
“They’re broken, Papá.”
Mr. Santos’s eyes fluttered open and closed. “What have I done?” he whispered.
“I’m not certain, but we must try and stop it somehow.”
“Is there anything I can do?” Mary asked.
“Yes,” said Manuel, looking up at Mary. “You can text Mr. J. Ar and ask him to come here as soon as he’s back from—wherever he is. It’s an emergency. He may be out of service, but text him anyway. Tell him the pod is opened. And also, can yo
u call Brianna’s, Ivy’s, and Xavier and Evan’s families and tell them they should stay inside with their windows and doors closed and locked, and not leave their houses under any circumstances? And if they see anything that looks like white smoke or mist they should not look at it at all? Post that on the rec center website as well, and on every other social media outlet you can. It’s very important. Call 911 and tell them to put out a bulletin: do not look at or touch the mist. Got it?”
“Uh . . . okay . . .” said Mary, still confused.
“And I need a computer.”
“I think there’s a laptop in the office.”
Mary went to get the laptop. Rook came over to sit by Manuel.
“How’s he doing?” Rook asked.
“Still bleeding pretty badly. I think he needs stitches.”
Mary returned with the laptop and set it before Manuel. “Can I get you anything else?”
Manuel shook his head. “Just make those calls.”
“Got it!” Mary exclaimed, and went into the office. She picked up her phone and sent a text message to Mr. J. Ar.
Manuel says come to Rec. Big problems. Pod opened. Hurry!
A few seconds later a message came on her screen: Message delivery failed.
* * *
“Can you hold this a minute?” Manuel asked Rook, who nodded and took over pressing the towel to Mr. Santos’s head. Manuel opened the laptop and began typing, stopping every few seconds to stare at the screen.
“Do you think the effects of the smoke can be reversed?” Rook asked.
“I don’t know. Have you ever seen anything like this before?”
Rook shook his head. “I thought there were Ents in those pods too.”
“Yes, I’m wondering if the Ents inside the pods decay over time and form the mist. Or perhaps they were transformed by the enemy. In any case, the smoke infuses humans with some sort of metal substance.”
“The weird thing,” said Rook, “is that the humans seem to want to be infected.”
“Yes, that is peculiar.” Manuel typed some more into the laptop. “I just hope the others make it back in time. We’re going to need all the help we can get.”
* * *
Mr. J. Ar and the kids found themselves in the Blakes’ backyard again, kneeling in the circle around the stump, just as they had been before they left. For a moment it seemed as though no time had passed, except that Brianna, Ivy, and Finn were with them. And they had the books.
“Good to be home,” said Brianna. “I mean, back on earth anyway.”
Mr. J. Ar’s phone chirped. He pulled it from his pocket and looked at the screen. “It’s from Mary.”
“Miss Stanton?” said Ivy, puzzled. “What does she want?”
Mr. J. Ar read the text and frowned. “We need to go. It’s happening. The pod is open.”
* * *
Mr. J. Ar drove to the Rec like he was competing in a NASCAR race. Rook’s truck was parked in the loop, right near the door. Mr. J. Ar screeched to a stop behind him, and everyone bailed out, running toward the building.
Evan got there first, but the door was locked. Through the glass he could see Manuel sitting at a laptop, typing furiously. Rook was hunched over his shoulder, staring at the screen. Manuel’s father was sitting next to him, a towel on his head. And Miss Stanton—Miss Stanton?—was talking on her phone as she glanced over Manuel’s shoulder.
Evan banged on the door and shouted. “Let us in!” The other kids joined in. Manuel looked up and pointed. Then Miss Stanton came running to open the door.
“Hurry!” she said, letting them all in. “Shut it tight. Make sure it’s locked!”
“Thank goodness you’re back!” said Manuel as the rest of the kids gathered around him.
“What’s up?” said Levi. “What happened?”
“Pods opening. All over the place. The others weren’t even drilled! They just opened on their own, as soon as the first one—”
“That was their permission,” said Mr. J. Ar, his face very grim.
“What do you mean, permission?” said Brianna.
“Agents of Ponéros need permission to operate in this world. They couldn’t come out of the pods until they were . . .” His voice trailed off while he searched for the right word. The Prince Warriors leaned forward, awaiting his final thought. “Invited.” Mr. J. Ar let out a heavy sigh and shook his head. Then he glanced at Mr. Santos, who looked bloody and dazed. “Mr. Santos?”
“I’m fine,” rasped Aarón Santos with a weak wave.
“The mist enters people through their mouths and turns them into metal,” said Manuel, “on the inside. It seems to form a coating over their hearts as well. It’s like the metal gloms onto the human parts—”
“Gloms?” said Evan, his ears perking up at the mention of this new, strange word. “We should call them Glommers!”
“Glommers,” said Levi, nodding. “Not bad.”
“What about our families?” said Brianna. “Are they okay?”
“Oh, I called them all, told them to stay indoors and sit tight,” said Mary, looking eager to show she was helping too. “They’ll be safe, right? So long as they stay inside?”
“For a while,” said Manuel. “But very few buildings are truly airtight. This mist might be able to get into cracks in the foundation. It’s insidious.”
“In-what-eous?” said Evan.
“Sneaky,” Manuel said. “It attracts people, so they actually want to be infected—”
“I did this,” said Mr. Santos suddenly. Everyone looked at him. His eyes were still closed; he spoke in a halting whisper. “I did this. I unleashed this plague. I am responsible for this. Manuel tried to stop me. I should have listened to him.”
Manuel got up from the computer. “Papá, we will stop this.”
“Who?”
“Us.”
“You?” said Mr. Santos. “Children?”
“We are Prince Warriors.” Manuel spoke softly, but with deep conviction. Mr. Santos’s eyes opened, as if he were seeing his son for the very first time, even without having his glasses. He nodded slowly.
“Here’s your book, Manuel,” Xavier said, handing him the book they’d retrieved from Skot’os.
“Mr. Santos, we have yours too,” said Evan. He placed the book before Mr. Santos like a precious treasure. “Your true book.”
Mr. Santos reached out and felt for the book, running a hand over the cover, as if trying to be sure it was real. He let out a ragged breath. “I remember now—as a boy. This book. I loved it then. But I lost sight of it. Forgot it. And then, when my Rosa—your mamá—” He couldn’t finish.
Manuel put a hand on his shoulder. “Mamá died. But she is not lost. She left me this,” he indicated the book Xavier had given him, “so I would know what her legacy was, what my destiny is. She wanted you to remember it too.” He paused. “Papá, were you there? In Ahoratos? Did you get your armor?”
Mr. Santos nodded very slowly, as if remembering something for the first time. “Yes. Yes, I was. I did. But it was so long ago. It is long gone now.”
“No, it isn’t. Once you get your armor, you can’t lose it. I learned that myself, when I flushed my seed down the toilet.”
“You did what?”
“But I got it back.”
“Me too!” said Evan.
“And I threw away my boots, but I got them back too,” said Levi. “And Rook—Rook was in prison in Skot’os! He looked almost as bad as those people walking around out there. But we rescued him, and Ruwach set him free!”
“It’s true,” said Rook.
“Me too,” said Finn.
“And I rejected the helmet, but I still got it back,” said Brianna.
“And I made a huge mistake and walked into a prison, but these guys got me out,” said Ivy.
Mr. Santos raised his head, straining to look at them. “I . . . see . . .” He fell forward, on top of the book, as if he had fainted. “Papá!” Manuel exclaimed, rushing to him.
“He needs to go to the hospital,” said Mr. J. Ar. “Let me take him.”
“But Dad! We need you,” said Levi.
Mr. J. Ar smiled at his son, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You got this,” he said. “All of you. Make me proud. Make Ruwach proud.” He helped Mr. Santos to his feet, looping an arm over his shoulder.
“Take my truck,” said Rook. “I think I can fit all of them in your SUV.”
“Good point.” Mr. J. Ar pulled the key out of his pocket and handed it to Rook, who handed him the truck keys. “Keep an eye on them.” Rook nodded. He followed them to the door and raised his shield so they could get to the truck in safety.
Levi went to the window and watched his father pull away from the curb. A lump formed in his throat.
“Okay,” said Rook when he came back in, glancing at Levi with a small smile. “Get your swords charged up and your armor on. We need to prep for battle.”
CHAPTER 32
Preparation
Mary watched in wonder as the children she had known as rec center kids busied themselves doing bizarre things like putting little knives into strange, colorful books and running in and out of the supply closet. They were very intent and focused, as if preparing themselves for some important mission. They hardly looked like children at all now.
She glanced at Rook and Finn, who were standing guard at the windows on either side of the main doors, apparently on the lookout for Glommers.
Glommers, she thought. Metal running in people’s veins? Hardening their hearts? What was going on here?
She saw Manuel return to the laptop to check something. She went to him and sat down beside him, clearing her throat. “Can you please explain to me what is going on? What are you all doing?”
Manuel glanced at her, his eyes shifting nervously. “It’s kind of a long story,” he said.
The Prince Warriors and the Swords of Rhema Page 18
