Valiant

by Merrie Destefano

  There are eight of us now, eight children who have no one but ourselves.

  …

  Our room fills with shadows, a puzzle of sleeping bodies on the floor. We’ve been given blankets and sleeping bags, but there aren’t enough to go around, so I open my blanket and lay it out flat so it’s twice the size. Then I give it to Bran, Ella, and the two new little girls.

  “Hey,” Justin says in a low voice. He motions for me to join him. “It’s not much, but I scored a couple of pillows and a blanket. If you want to share.”

  “Sure.” I set my backpack on the floor, then my heart skips a beat or two as Justin and I lie down next to each other. I have no idea how I’m supposed to fall asleep, especially when he wraps one arm around me and kisses me.

  “We’re going to survive,” he says. “I know we will.”

  “I hope so,” I whisper.

  He runs his fingers through my hair. “And we have something to look forward to, don’t we? That Gabe is still alive and we’ll find him?”

  I nod and then nestle closer to him, my head tucked under his chin, my hand on his chest, his heartbeat strong beneath my fingertips. It feels so good to be with him again, so safe. Like nothing can ever hurt me.

  Some older boys whisper in the hallway outside our room. I keep hearing words like “run” and “knife” and “blood,” so I quit trying to listen. From what I’ve overheard so far, one group of kids formed a gang last night. They rounded up eighteen kids from their condo complex—most of them went to Thorpe Fundamental, the nearby elementary school—and every one of them had lost either one or both of their parents. Together, these kids managed to fight off a small band of Xua. After that, they wandered in here the next morning, hoping they could find something to eat.

  Apparently, most of the kids who have survived are the ones who watched my videos. Except for Justin and Billy, nobody knows that Natalie and I made those. I wish we’d made more. There were a lot of other things I wish I had told them.

  My mind is like a race car, going around and around the same track.

  I try to sleep, but I can’t.

  Justin has rolled over on his back and he’s already in REM sleep, his eyes flitting beneath his lids. I hope he’s having good dreams, but I doubt it, the way his muscles keep flinching. It’s more like he’s practicing a battle.

  My fingers slide over that flash drive Carla gave me. Earlier, I rummaged through one of the desks and found two pieces of cord. One, I used to restring Natalie’s jade and gold beads. The other I made into a short necklace and attached that flash drive, so it now hangs beneath my shirt.

  Why did Carla’s dad tell her to give this to me?

  I sit up, careful I don’t wake Justin. The other boys in the hallway are finally quiet. Hopefully, they left. Everyone else in the room is asleep. I grab my backpack and creep out into the hallway. Light falls in through an open window. A full moon hovers outside, the same moon as yesterday, the same as tomorrow.

  The earth, the moon, the stars, they all stay the same.

  But we don’t. We change.

  I find a quiet spot down by the drinking fountain, lean against the wall, and pull the tablet from my pack. I hold my breath as I flick it on, and it powers up with a soft bleep. Plenty of power left. I run a finger along the edge, locate a port, and slide the flash drive in, waiting for the drive to show up on the screen.

  Nothing happens.

  I turn the power off and on a few times, pull the flash drive out and reinsert it, but all I see is my home screen image, a photo of Dad, Gabe, and me at a Dodgers game, one of the rare times my father took a day off work and spent it with us.

  The flash drive clicks and spins, but it never registers. Instead, my tablet inadvertently hooks up to the internet. After what everyone has been talking about—all the dead bodies and the cities that have been destroyed—I’m not sure I want to go online. I consider flicking that connection off.

  But I don’t.

  The first image has already popped up. It’s today’s top news flash, a list of U.S. cities that have been attacked by the Xua. Buildings have been destroyed, whole city blocks are on fire, and blackened ash floats down from the sky. Detroit, Seattle, Atlanta, Houston, New York, Chicago, Boston—

  Washington, D.C., is still dark. No news has come in yet about what happened during the attack on the White House. Did the Xua get in?

  I set my tablet on the floor, then start pacing the hallway. My adrenaline’s kicking in at the wrong time. I should be asleep. I shouldn’t be worried about aliens or wars or secret messages from the government. I’m just a kid and I’m tired of fighting and never winning.

  This abandoned building looks eerie at night. There’s a ghostly quiet. With this much open space, everything is cast in shadow. Too many doors lead into black rooms and hallways disappear into shadow. I wonder if the Xua know I’m here. If they do, they could come at any time, and we wouldn’t have anything to stop them.

  Except maybe we do.

  I don’t stop to think. I stuff my tablet in its case, hang the flash drive around my neck, sling my backpack over my shoulder, and make my way to the cafeteria, hoping the door’s unlocked. Thankfully, it is. I swing it open, then run a gaze across the room. This side of the building doesn’t have black paint on the windows, and moonlight pours in, outlining lunch tables and chairs.

  Compared to the rest of the world, this space looks surprisingly organized. I start hunting, and the first thing I grab is an empty bowl. After a few minutes, I find a tray filled with saltshakers. One by one, I screw the lids off the shakers, then pour their contents into my bowl. A few minutes later, I have a cereal-size bowl brimming with salt.

  I sneak out of the room, much quieter than when I came in.

  The next step in my plan requires stealth. And a mean streak, which I already know I have.

  That Xua doctor back at the hospital told us there would be more Xua here at the school, so I’ve been watching all the adults, looking for signs. So far, I have three people figured out. The trauma surgeon who’s taking care of Natalie, one of the paramedics, and Mr. Malone, a counselor who ran that “therapy” session for the kids earlier.

  I saw Mr. Malone walking toward the main office when we all left the conference room. So I head over there, careful not to spill any salt on the way. I’m going to need every grain. The entire wall leading into the office is made of windows. I hope he doesn’t see me coming. Otherwise—

  Otherwise, I could be in trouble. Even a “nice” Xua might not be so friendly if he catches me trying to poison him.

  I open the office door, hoping it doesn’t squeak, wishing I had brought Justin or Billy with me. Even one of those fourteen-year-old boys who fought off a band of Xua would be a welcome companion right now. I don’t know where Mr. Malone is, but I’m guessing he’s asleep on a cot in here somewhere. The smell of old carpet greets me as I sneak down an inner corridor. I can barely see, it’s so dark. My left hand runs along the wall, trailing the edge of a bookcase, bumping over a row of hanging photos, dipping into a recess in the wall.

  It’s an open doorway.

  I stop and listen for breathing.

  Silence.

  He can’t be in there. Unless Xua don’t breathe at night.

  My fingers continue to slide along the wall and then finally I find another doorway. I stop and hold my breath. I command everything in the universe to be quiet, but it refuses. Instead, a nearby clock ticks and water rushes through pipes and somewhere, out in the hallway, someone coughs.

  I freeze, hoping the cough doesn’t wake Mr. Malone.

  There’s an unpainted window at the end of his room. It’s curtained, but pale light still shines in, exposing a long, narrow room with a desk at the far end.

  And on the right, a cot.

  He’s there, asleep.

  His chest rises slowl
y, methodically, peacefully, his head hidden behind a bank of filing cabinets, his torso and feet stretched out on the bed, a blanket drawn over him.

  I quietly and hastily pour my bowl of salt across the doorway, creating a thin white line, almost invisible. Most people wouldn’t even know it was there.

  I swallow nervously, then take a step backward, hoping I’m far enough away from the door that he won’t be able to reach me. Then I call his name.

  “Mr. Malone! Mr. Malone, help!”

  My heart thunders; I can’t believe I’m doing this. It feels like dangerous magic, like I might be stirring the powers of darkness. I’m pressed against the wall as he stumbles out of his bed.

  “What is it?” he calls into the night. “What’s wrong?”

  I move a few more steps away and call again in a softer voice this time.

  “Stop, stop, don’t! Mr. Malone, help!!”

  He flicks on the light and scurries toward the door, turns into a silhouette outlined with yellow light. Then, when he reaches the doorway, he slams to a halt. He glares at me, hissing, an almost supernatural sound that makes my skin crawl. He speaks in Xua, in that dreaded secret language, a succession of words that sounds like curses. Sharp, brutal words, his eyes narrowed, his back hunched.

  Holy. Effing. Crap.

  I almost can’t believe this.

  Mr. Malone stands frozen at the edge of the room, unable to cross the barrier of salt.

  I move a step closer, terrified, but curious at the same time.

  “Why did you do this?” he asks.

  “Why can’t you come out?” I ask.

  His eyes glisten with dark light, and I know I’ve made an enemy. He’s not speaking English. I’ve triggered something primal inside him—the need to survive. His head swivels, and he stares back at that window on the far side of the nurse’s office. Too late I realize I should have spread salt there, too. But I wasn’t trying to trap him, was I? I mean, I knew he was a Xua. I only wanted to test my theory.

  He’s still hissing and spitting, but never once does he cross that line of salt or even extend his hand across it.

  “Why can’t you touch the salt?” I demand, my voice bolder now.

  “We should have killed you the moment you came in the front door,” he growls, his words barely intelligible. “I don’t care what the rest of the Rebellion says. You can’t be trusted.”

  Then he lunges across the room like a fierce beast. In a single fluid movement, he grabs the desk chair and swings it against the window, again and again. I don’t realize I’m screaming, but I am. I’m terrified, and I don’t want him to escape. Not if I accidentally made him mad enough to join the other Xua that want to kill us. The chair continues to strike the window until glass sprays across the room, followed by the smell of night air. He bounds through the open window, not seeming to care that the edges are like glass daggers or that he’ll get cut.

  One moment, he’s there in front of me, mad as a caged beast.

  The next, he’s leaping through the window, down to the ground. I run inside the room, see blood on the window frame and him on the ground, hobbling to his feet.

  And then, after a final hiss back at me over his shoulder, he dashes away, disappearing into midnight shadows.

  41

  “What were you thinking?”

  “Are you nuts?”

  “There were a million ways you could have tested your theory, Sara.” Justin’s hands are on his hips, and he towers over me. “This was probably the worst way imaginable.”

  “Okay, okay,” I say. “I get it. I should have waited or discussed it with you guys or done something else, anything but what I did. I just couldn’t sit around and do nothing anymore. We need to act, and now we know how!”

  The office is filled with too many people, and I can’t breathe. I want to get out into the hallway or, better yet, outside. That trail of salt got brushed away when I first ran into the room, trying to see if I could stop Mr. Malone from jumping. Now it’s my word against anyone else’s whether I put salt there in the first place. Carla leans out the window, staring down at the parking lot. She accidentally brushes a shard of glass, knocks it out, and it tinkles to the ground. Natalie moves slowly around the room, like a private detective trying to figure out what really happened. I wish she was back in bed, but apparently the trauma surgeon was right.

  The “cutting-edge tech” that Xua doctor used back in the clinic is working faster than our own medical techniques would have.

  Billy’s the only one who’s excited about what I did.

  “Salt? No kidding, salt?” He keeps saying the same thing over and over, a goofy grin on his face. “Holy wow, that’s cool.”

  “What’s cool about it?” Justin asks. “Sara could have gotten hurt.”

  “But she didn’t,” Billy answers. I’m proud of him for not letting Justin bully him. “Don’t you see?”

  We all stare at him. Apparently, we don’t.

  “All we need to do is get a lot of salt and pour it around the building. Then we’ll have a fortress, just like in Battle Mania III.”

  “Video games? Really?” Carla asks.

  I never even realized Billy was into video games.

  Natalie frowns, but not for the reason I expect. She’s nodding. “I think it could work.”

  “I agree,” I say. Also, this will buy us enough time to gather more information. Maybe we can find more Xua rebels who will help us find Aerithin. And Gabe.

  “Where will you find that much salt?” Justin asks.

  “It shouldn’t be that hard to find,” I reason. “And if we’re going to get it, the middle of the night seems like the best time. So where can we find salt?”

  Billy grins. “Target and Walmart sell forty pound bags for pool supplies. I used to clean my uncle’s pool in the summer.”

  “Natalie, you get the addresses and directions to the nearest Target and Walmart,” I say. “Justin, you find a truck or a car we can use. And Billy, you find some gear for breaking into the stores, in case the windows and doors aren’t already broken.”

  …

  I don’t know where Justin found an old truck or how he got it started. All I know is, half an hour later we’re all crammed inside and heading toward the nearest Walmart. It’s about four in the morning, so I’m seriously hoping no one else will be there.

  Billy’s the only one who knows how to drive this ancient beast with a stick shift and no automatic GPS controls. We pull into the parking lot, then slide sideways into a spot by the door.

  The lot looks like the clinic, cars jammed into one another. A few still have dead bodies inside, people who are never going to leave that spot behind the steering wheel. I’m getting tired of this whole Night of the Living Dead theme.

  Justin and Carla jump out of the trunk bed and head to the front of the store. Billy follows a step behind them. It doesn’t look like they’ll have any problem getting inside, since all the windows are broken. I couldn’t convince Natalie to stay back at the school, but I’m not about to let her wander around the store. She stays in the truck with me.

  Just before they all disappear, I call out to Justin. “Hey, give us Natalie’s gun.”

  He jogs back to the car and hands it over. Billy has that rifle and Carla has a gun, so this way both our groups will be armed.

  “Make sure you all stay together, okay?” I say.

  He leans in the window and kisses me. Then he grins. “I figured that might be the only way to make you stop giving orders,” he says. Then he kisses me again, long and slow enough to get my heart thumping.

  “Funny,” I say, but as soon as he disappears, I’m rubbing my thumb across my lips, remembering his kiss, replaying it over and over.

  For the next several minutes, Natalie and I both stare at the darkened store in silence. Waiting. My stomach feel
s like there’s a nest of snakes inside, squirming around and biting. I change position, hoping that gnawing sensation will go away. It doesn’t.

  “Did you ever get a chance to catch up on the news?” she asks.

  I nod. “Part of it.”

  A car races down the street. Natalie and I sink lower in our seats, trying to not be noticed. Now I’m glad Billy parked so crooked. We blend in with the rest of the cars in the lot. My left hand tucks inside my pocket, and I remember Natalie’s broken bracelet. I pull it out, thinking the way I strung it back together looks like an art project done by a fifth grader, the beads out of order, the cord so long it’s more like a necklace than a bracelet. I wish I could tell her how worried I’ve been about her, but all I manage to do is open my fist and say, “Here.”

  She stares at my hand for a long time, so long I wonder if she even recognizes her bracelet. Then her eyes glisten with tears as she reaches out to take it.

  “I thought I lost this,” she whispers.

  “Maybe later we can figure out how to put it back together right. It’s pretty messed up—”

  She slides it over her head. “No, it’s perfect. Thank you.”

  Silence lingers between us for another moment before I get the courage to say what’s been in my heart. “You know, your dad is really smart, and he knows how to take care of himself,” I say quickly, hoping she doesn’t try to stop me. “He’s probably safe somewhere, just like us. He’s probably being careful because he wants to see you again.”

  She nods. “I hope so.”

  I’ve known all along that this is why she’s always been willing to help me save my brother. She knows what it’s like to be separated from someone she loves.

  Then I pull the flash drive out and show it to her. “Carla gave me something,” I confess, my voice hushed.

  “What’s on it?”

  “I have no idea. Her dad told her to give it to me, but my tablet can’t open it. I think it’s encrypted or locked. The contents are supposed to be top secret.” I try to hide the fact that I’m terrified. I have no idea what information this thing holds. Best-case scenario, it’ll have the rest of the Xua’s weaknesses, and one of them will be something I can work with. Worst case, we find out the world really is screwed.