Malcolm senses my confusion. “I woke up in the lab. Mogadorians were at the doors, trying to break in. That doctor was on the floor. And you … you were convulsing. And then, just as the Mogadorians came through the door, there was …”
He trails off, laughing with amazement. “There was an earthquake.”
As soon as I regain my strength, we begin to make our way on foot through forests, pastures, and farmland, traveling mostly at night to escape detection. We’re headed west, trying to put as much space between us and what remains of Ashwood Estates as we can.
Outside of Ashwood, with only the sky to measure time, days and nights pass without comment. I lose track of the hour, the day of the week, how long we’ve been on the road.
Malcolm eventually explains that the earthquake seriously damaged the underground facilities. He says it was a miracle he was able to get us both out through the collapsing structure without being apprehended. He says it was as if the entire structure was collapsing around us, but never
But he thinks we need to keep moving to be safe.
I agree.
We’ve camped out for the day in an unused shed at the edge of a tobacco farm. My limbs are tired from our constant trekking, but my cuts and scrapes are starting to heal.
Malcolm sees me mopping down the worst of my remaining cuts. “It’s a miracle you weren’t hurt worse.” He shakes his head in wonderment. “It’s a miracle we weren’t both killed. And it’s an even bigger miracle the earthquake happened in the first place. If not, there would’ve been no escape.”
Now’s as good a time as any to tell him.
“It was no miracle.”
He stops what he’s doing, looks at me curiously.
I haven’t used One’s Legacy on my own since the day I used it to destroy the Mogadorian lab. But I know the ability is still inside me. I can feel it there, nestled, pulsing, waiting for me to pick it up. To play.
I close my eyes and concentrate. The ground beneath us heaves and ripples, the walls of the shed quake. A few rusted tools, hung by hooks, clatter off the wall to the ground.
It’s nothing major, barely a tremor: I only wanted to test myself, and to show Malcolm my gift.
Malcolm’s stunned, eyes bulging. “That was amazing.”
“It’s a Legacy. A gift from the Loric.”
Malcolm looks at me with one of his befuddled expressions.
“Do you know about the Loric?” I ask. I still don’t really know what Malcolm remembers, how much is left of his brain.
“I know a little,” he says. “My memory, it has … patches.” He sighs heavily, clearly frustrated. “I’ve been working on it. Trying to remember everything. But mostly I remember the darkness.”
“The darkness?” I ask, but as soon as the words are out of my mouth I realize what he means. The darkness of the containment pod. All those years in an induced coma, hooked up to machines, having his brain dredged for information. I shudder.
“When I try to summon a memory, it’s like I have to go back into the darkness to find it. I have to go back through years of nothing to remember any one thing.” He laughs, with a note of bitterness I’ve never heard in his voice before. “But there
Malcolm goes quiet, lost in thought. Before I can press him to explain, he changes the subject.
“You said you were given a Loric’s power.” He leans forward. “So you’re not a Loric?”
I grin. “You thought I was Loric?”
He nods. “Yeah. That or a high-priority human captive like me.”
“No,” I say, a bit nervously. “I’m not human. And I’m not Loric.” I’ve been dreading telling him the truth. How will he react if he knows I belong to the same breed that held him in captivity and tortured him for years? But I knew I’d have to come clean eventually. I figure now’s as good a time as any.
“I’m a Mogadorian.”
That befuddled look again. “If I’d known that,” he says, “I probably would’ve left you in the lab.”
But then he begins to laugh..
