Legacies Reborn

by Pittacus Lore

  Oh God, I hope she’s safe.

  So I climb back up and stick my head through our living room window right in time to see our front door fly in.

  Any hope that these guys were only actors in really great makeup dies as four of the freaks stomp through the front door, all pale skin and jagged teeth and gross noses. There’s no question that these are beings from another planet.

  And they’re not happy.

  One of them sees me through the window, his black eyes narrowing. I duck down, hoping that none of the others notice me.

  “Surrender or die,” the alien says in a deep, grating voice.

  Benny steps out of the corner and swings like a pro, slamming his bat into the alien’s skull. The bastard falls hard to the floor, and then disintegrates. Just turns into freakin’ dust like he’s a damn vampire that’s been staked or something.

  But that’s the only swing Benny gets. One of the aliens—Mogadorians—fires a laser gun at him, and Benny flies backwards a few yards before crashing through our coffee table. He convulses on the floor.

  I clamp my hands over my mouth.

  When Benny regains a little control of his body, he looks out the window. We lock eyes for a moment. Mine are wide, scared. His are pleading.

  “Run!” he shouts, and it looks like doing so causes him a ton of pain. Blood drips from his ears and nose. “Run, damn it!”

  And so I do. As I run down metal steps, I hear more of those electric noises coming from my apartment. Benny screams a few times. Then it gets really quiet. I pause on the ladder at the end of the fire escape. I just want to hear Benny cursing at the aliens or the sound of his metal bat hitting someone else’s skull. Instead, I look up and find one of the pale-faced bastards hanging out of my living room window. He’s got a gun pointed at me.

  “Shi—,” I exclaim, but I never finish the curse. He fires and I just let go of the ladder. I’d rather take my chances falling to the ground than getting zapped by some alien’s gun. The electric blast must come within inches of me, though, because as I fall I can feel some kind of static shoot through my body. But then there’s nothing but the rush of wind as I claw at the air, plummeting towards the ground below.

  I land in an open Dumpster—saved by trash.

  I scramble out and stumble through the little alley between our apartment building and the one beside us, trying to make sense of the chaos around me. I pause at the corner and look out onto the street and my block. Some cars have been turned over. Alarms are going off everywhere. One of the alien spacecrafts I saw on TV is parked smack in the middle of the intersection at the end of the block.

  Across the street, half a dozen aliens lead a line of people out of an apartment building. People I recognize from the neighborhood. Men, women, kids. They’re forced to drop to their knees with their hands in the air on the sidewalk. The Mogadorians keep poking at them with the barrels of their guns. I want to help them, want to do something to save them, but I can’t bring myself to move. I’m hardly even breathing, I’m so scared, and have to keep swallowing down the urge to puke. I feel like my heart is trying to burst out from inside of me.

  This must be what complete and utter fear feels like.

  Tears fill the corners of my eyes, but I’m not sure if they’re for me or Mom or even Benny. It’s only then that I realize he’s the only reason I escaped. He distracted the aliens, tried to keep them from getting me. He didn’t have to do that. Hell, he could have abandoned me altogether.

  But he didn’t. He told me to run while he stayed behind. My stupid stepfather protected me and it got him killed.

  For a second, there’s a pang of guilt in my gut for every bad thing I ever said about Benny. But then I hear clanging coming from the alley: one of those pale bastards is starting down the fire escape, maybe chasing after me. So I whisper an apology to Benny and to my neighbors on the sidewalk, and try to save myself. My legs start moving, running. I head away from the ship and the people lined up on the streets and towards the park. If I can get across it, I might be able to reach the subway. Maybe the trains are still running and I can get downtown to Mom.

  I stay low and use the cars on my side of the street as cover. I make it past several other apartment buildings and the fire hydrant I used to play at during the summers when I was a kid. Water spews out of the broken hydrant onto a body that’s lying on the sidewalk. A body that’s not moving. I try not to look at it as I make my way around the corner, where I come across three aliens who have their backs to me. I’m so surprised that I trip over my own feet, twisting my ankle and hitting the ground hard. Hard enough that I can’t help but let out a short cry. They turn. The one closest to me has dark tattoos along the top of his skull. He lets out a noise that sounds like sandpaper. It takes me a moment to realize he’s laughing at me.

  I’m toast.

  I try to scramble to my feet, but the three of them are on me too fast. They train their guns at me, and I know that no matter how quick I move, I won’t be able to get away from them. They’ll shoot me if I run.

  “Surrender or die,” the Mogadorian says.

  I look around, but there’s no one nearby to help. I can barely even see the people from my block anymore from where I am. I guess everyone’s been rounded up, or is hiding, or . . .

  My eyes fall on the unmoving body by the hydrant.

  These aliens are going to kill me on my own damn block.

  The one closest to me bares his gray, jagged teeth in what might be considered a smile on Mars or wherever the hell he came from. His finger on the trigger twitches.

  There’s a sharp buzzing in my chest. I can hardly stand it. I feel like someone’s blown up a balloon inside me, the pain so bad that I’m sure I’m about to be ripped apart.

  My heart thumps.

  This is the end.

  Mom. I’m sorry.

  I throw my hands up in front of my face to shield myself. As if that will do anything to protect me.

  And then the impossible happens.

  CHAPTER THREE

  THE ALIENS’ GUNS FLY OUT OF THEIR HANDS AND through the air, clattering onto the street halfway down the block.

  What the . . . ?

  Something is different. Something inside me has changed. The buzzing has changed. Now I can sense it coursing through my veins. I feel powerful. I feel electric, and for a second I wonder if I was actually shot with one of those laser guns. But that can’t be true. I feel too alive.

  What the hell is going on?

  I don’t know how to even begin to answer that question. The alien douche bags look just as confused as I am—and really pissed off. The one with the tattoos sneers and lunges for me. I push my hand out in front of me, hoping to stop him.

  His body shoots through the air, crashing through the windshield of an abandoned taxi that’s on fire a few buildings away from us.

  I look at my hands, and then to the two remaining Mogadorians. They take a few steps back.

  They’re afraid of me.

  In spite of everything that’s happened, I can’t help but smirk at this.

  “Who’s laughing now?” I ask as I get to my feet.

  “Garde,” one of the aliens says. I don’t know what he means, and I don’t really care.

  I feel like a puppeteer, like everything has invisible strings I can push and pull. I raise my hand above my head, and the alien on my left is thrust into the air. He lets out a deep growl.

  I don’t have any damn clue what’s happening to me. All I know is that these monsters attacked my city. My neighborhood. My family.

  I narrow my eyes and bring my hand down. The floating Mogadorian slams into his friend. And then I take him up in the air and hammer him down again, over and over, until the two of them fall apart, bursting into little clouds of ash.

  My hands shake. I stare down at them in disbelief, but I don’t have time to try to make sense of this. More Mogadorians spill onto the street a few blocks away, shooting into a crowd of people who run after
them. The humans have weapons of their own. They’re coming at the invaders with guns, knives, hockey sticks and bats—a few police officers head the charge in riot gear. Someone throws something that’s smoking; there’s the sound of glass breaking, and then one of the aliens goes up in flames.

  People are fighting back.

  I wonder if I should stay and try to protect my neighborhood, but the only thing I care about in the world right now is getting downtown to Mom. And so I break into a run, this time slightly less afraid, fueled by this new energy that’s flowing through me. My brain feels like it’s sparking, and all I can think is that if this is real—if I’ve got superpowers now—then I can still hope that she is okay. That we’ll be reunited soon. It’s not impossible. Nothing is impossible.

  Morningside Park is dark. Normally it’s not the kind of place I’d want to hang around at night, but I don’t hesitate to sprint into it. All I have to do is climb a few flights of stairs and cross a few streets and I’ll be at the same train station where I said good-bye to Mom just a few hours ago. As soon as I get inside the park itself, though, I start to rethink my route. It seems like every bush is shaking, and I can hear whispers in the air around me. I tighten my fingers into fists as I run along.

  I’m almost to the stairs when suddenly there’s a light in my face and someone pulling on the back of my shirt. My hands go up and I’m ready to try to dust a few more of these pale suckers, when I hear someone say, “Be cool, it’s just a kid.”

  “Who’s there?” I ask, not letting my guard down.

  The light moves away, and after blinking a few times I realize that it’s shining on a small group of people. Maybe fifteen of them. Then the light goes out.

  “Sorry,” the person with the flashlight says. “We thought you might be one of them.”

  “Do I look like one of them?” I ask.

  As my eyes adjust, I begin to see the boy holding the flashlight at his side. He’s only a few years older than me, if that, and he can’t stay still, his head and eyes darting around the park.

  “I have to go,” I say, starting towards the stairs again.

  The boy grabs my arm.

  “It’s bad up there,” he says. “They’re everywhere.”

  “It’s bad down here,” someone in the group says.

  “I’m not afraid,” I say, shaking loose from his grip.

  “They came into our building,” the boy says. “My parents and a few others tried to hold them off in the front while we all made it out through the back. I don’t know . . .”

  He trails off. I look back at the rest of the crowd. That’s when I realize most of them are either pretty young or pretty old. Those who wouldn’t have stood a chance against the Mogadorians.

  “We’ll be safe here,” a little girl says. “Until help comes.”

  I wonder if that now includes me. If I’m the help.

  Before I can answer that question, another light is on me. On all of us. This time from the air, coming from one of those damn spaceships. Black masses jump from its sides—more aliens.

  “Run!” someone shouts. And we do.

  We scramble up the stairs. Behind me I can hear the electric sounds of their weapons. An older man is hit and falls. Flashlight Boy grabs him, dragging him along. We keep going. We have enough of a start that we’re halfway up the seemingly never-ending steps when they finally start to gain on us.

  “Go! Go!” I shout, but there’s no way they can move any faster. Not this group.

  So I try to buy them some time to escape. I turn my attention to the Mogadorians.

  They’re a few yards behind me, their boots smacking against the white stone steps.

  “What are you doing?” Flashlight Boy shouts at me.

  “Saving you!” I yell back.

  Or getting myself killed.

  “Yo, ass faces.” I crack my knuckles. “You never should have messed with Harlem.”

  They raise their guns, but I’m faster. I push my hands forward. The aliens fly back, tossed through the air. One of them lands in a nearby pond. A couple more tumble down the steep steps. They must have bones, because I can hear them breaking. One of them turns to dust halfway down, the other one disappears at the base of the stairs when he lands on his head.

  But I don’t get them all. A big one somehow missed my magic Jedi attack and is still coming at me, his blaster raised and ready to fire. I reach out my hand and clench my fist. The alien stops, lifted off the ground by a giant, invisible hand.

  “Yeah, sucker,” I say. “Whatcha gonna do now?”

  He squirms in my grip, saying stuff in a language I’ve never heard—though it’s pretty obvious that he’s cursing at me. For some reason I think about Benny’s quiet prayers as we watched the news.

  And I think of my mom, who has to be all right and waiting for me at her restaurant.

  She has to be.

  “This planet has already fallen,” he says in English. I don’t know if he’s got a weird accent, or if his voice just normally sounds like someone trying to make a gravel smoothie in a blender. “You can’t win. Your people will bow before us when—”

  I throw my hand to my left. The alien flies, smashing into the rocky side of the embankment beside the stairs. He turns to dust before his body ever hits the ground.

  It’s only then that I realize it’s gotten really quiet behind me.

  I turn back, and find a dozen eyes staring at me. Some of them are above gaping mouths, others are wide with fear.

  “Uh . . .” I have no idea what to say.

  “You,” Flashlight Boy says. “You’re like the dude in the videos. John Smith.”

  “Whoa, no,” I say. “I’m not with him.”

  “Are you, like, a good alien?” someone asks.

  “What? I live on 120th Street.”

  Everyone starts to whisper to each other. The murmurs quickly grow louder, until everyone’s trying to talk to me, thanking me or asking what else I can do, or telling me to go back to my own planet.

  “What now?” a little girl asks. Her eyes are wet and bloodshot.

  There’s an explosion somewhere close, back from the direction my apartment is in. Or was in, maybe. The steps rattle beneath our feet.

  I don’t know what to tell these people to do, but my mission is clear. I’ve got to get downtown.

  And if any of these shark-faced freaks get in my way, I’ll destroy them, leaving mountains of dust behind me.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  I RUN UP THE LAST OF THE STAIRS AND OUT OF the park. The others follow.

  “You’re like a mutant or something,” Flashlight Boy says from behind me. “You been exposed to some radiation or toxic waste or something?”

  “Do you have a spaceship?” a girl asks, totally ignoring the fact that I already said I’m not some alien.

  “Why is this happening?” another girl asks. She just keeps repeating the question over and over again.

  I don’t say anything—wouldn’t know how to even try to answer these questions that don’t make any sense to me either. But that doesn’t seem to matter to any of them. They just keep on chasing after me, the younger ones sometimes slowing down a little bit to get the old-timers moving faster. I know that if this group stays on my heels I’ll never make it down to Wall Street and Mom, because there’s no way I can avoid these alien bastards with fifteen people hobbling after me. I’ve got to lose them.

  So I figure if I can find a good, safe hiding place or something, I can slip away and not feel bad about abandoning them. The only problem is that the safest place right now is probably in, like, Montana or Wisconsin or, I don’t know, Antarctica or something—just anywhere far enough from New York or other big cities. I know this neighborhood like the back of my hand, and my mind races trying to think of some kind of place they can hole up and wait for actual help from the army or whoever. I make for Columbia since the university is only a block away and has big metal gates at its entrances that at least look like they might be s
trong. But I don’t even have to get close to the campus before I can see a small spaceship in the air over it and hear the shouts and sounds of those electric weapons firing. Some of the buildings are on fire. It sounds like the entire school’s under siege. I guess some of the nerds didn’t like the idea of being invaded and decided to put up enough of a fight that the aliens are taking notice. Or maybe they were having one of those protests they’re always doing, and the pale freaks thought it was a threat. Whatever happened, shit’s definitely going down on campus.

  Normally I’d cut across the university at 116th Street to get to the train, but that’s obviously not happening. Taking out a few pale-faced dudes in the park is one thing, but I’m not gonna test my luck by trying to face off against a spaceship. I doubt I’m that strong. Besides, I don’t even know how I got these powers, much less how long they’ll last, and I don’t want to use them all up when I’ve still got to get across the whole damn city. So I take a quick left and head down Amsterdam. There are people everywhere, mostly running, some who look injured. No one seems to know where to go or what to do. My legs keep moving, and it’s a few more blocks before I realize where I’m leading us.

  The Big Crab.

  Or, more specifically, the Cathedral of St. John the Divine.

  I stop at the bottom of the steps leading up to the church and turn to the group behind me, the kids, old people and a couple of wide-eyed teenagers around my age. There’s a little pang in my side from running, but I’m in great shape compared to the others, who are wheezing.

  “Inside,” I say, nodding to the church. “You’ll be a lot safer in there than on the street. Just wait until the army or marines or coast guard or whoever shows up and takes out all these pricks. They’re probably marching across the bridges right now.”

  “What are we supposed to do inside?” Flashlight Boy asks.

  “I don’t know. This place is gigantic and, like, a hundred years old. There should be plenty of places to hide. Plus, it’s a church, so . . . you know. It’s probably extra protected or something.”