The Power of Six

Chapter Thirteen

SIX DRIVES OUR CHARCOAL-COLORED SUV, WHICH we saw for sale in a yard two miles down the road for fifteen hundred dollars, into town to buy groceries. While she’s gone, Sam and I spar together in the backyard. The three of us have spent a week training, and I’m amazed at how good Sam’s gotten in the short amount of time. Despite his small size, he’s a natural; and what he lacks in strength, he makes up for in technique, which is much better than my own.

At the end of each day as Six and I retreat to the corners of the living room or to our empty rooms, Sam stays up studying fighting techniques on the internet. What Six learned from Katarina and I learned from Henri is a method of combat that loosely resembles a blend of jujitsu, Tae Kwon Do, karate and Bojuka here on Earth, a system designed to be committed to muscle memory, including grappling, blocks, fluid body movements, joint manipulation and strikes to vital points of a person’s central nervous system. For Six and me, having the benefit of telekinesis, it’s a matter of sensing the subtlest of motions in a radius around us and then reacting to them. Sam, however, needs to keep his enemies in front of him.

While Six ends each session without a mark, Sam and I both finish with new scrapes and bruises. But despite them, Sam never loses passion or drive. Today is no different. He comes at me, chin tucked and eyes alert. He throws a right cross that I block, then a left side kick that I counter by sweeping his right leg out from under him, sending him crashing to the ground. He stands, then charges me again. Though he connects often, with my strength, his shots aren’t very effective. But sometimes I feign pain to boost his confidence.

Six gets home an hour later. She changes into shorts and a T-shirt and joins us. We drill for a while, slowly doing the same block-counterkick over and over until it becomes second nature. But while I take it somewhat easy against Sam, Six goes all out against me, thrusting me backwards with such force that the wind is knocked out of me. Sometimes I get irritated, but I can still tell I’m getting better. She’s no longer able to deflect my telekinesis with a casual flick of the wrist. Now she’s required to throw her whole body into it.

Sam takes a break and watches from the side with Bernie Kosar.

“You’re better than that, Johnny. Show me the good stuff already,” she says after she upends me when I threw a sloppy roundhouse kick.

I charge her, closing the gap between us in a tenth of a second. I throw a left hook but Six blocks it, taking hold of my bicep and using my momentum to toss me over her head. I brace myself for a painful landing, but she doesn’t let go of my arm, instead twisting me back over her shoulder so my feet hit the ground.

She wraps her arms around my arms; my back is smashed against her chest. She sticks her face against mine and playfully kisses me on the cheek. Before I can react she kicks the back of my knees and my butt hits the grass. My arms are swept out from under me and I’m flat on my back. Six easily pins me, and she’s so close I can count the hairs on her brow. Butterflies flood my stomach.

“Okay,” Sam finally interrupts. “I think you got him pretty good. You can let him up now.”

Six’s smile widens, and mine does, too. We stay that way for a second longer before she leans back and hefts me up by my shoulders.

“My turn with Six,” Sam says.

I take a deep breath, then shake my arms to rid them of their jitters.

“She’s all yours,” I say, making a beeline towards the house.

“John?” Six says just as I reach the back door.

I turn, trying to tamp down a strange fluttery sensation at the sight of her. “Yeah?”

“We’ve been in this house for a week now. I think it’s time to lose whatever sentimentality or fear you’ve been holding on to.”

For a second, after what just happened I think she’s talking about Sarah.

“The Chest,” she says.

“I know,” I say, and I enter the house, sliding the door behind me.

I go to my room and pace, taking deep breaths, trying to figure out what just happened out in the yard.

I go to the bathroom and splash cold water on my face. I stare into the mirror. Sarah would kill me if she caught me looking at Six like that. I tell myself again that I have nothing to worry about because Loriens love one person for life. If Sarah is my one love, then Six is simply a crush.

Back in my room I lie on my back, fold my hands across my stomach, and close my eyes. I take deep breaths, holding each one in for a five-count before exhaling out my nose.

Thirty minutes later I open the door and creep down the hall, hearing Sam and Six milling about in the living room. The only place I could find to hide my Chest in the house was in the utility closet, on top of the hot water heater. I struggle getting it out, making as little noise as possible. Then I tiptoe back to my room, gently closing and locking the door behind me.

Six is right. It’s time. No more waiting. I grab hold of the lock. It quickly warms, then squirms against the palm of my hand, taking on an almost liquid form, and snaps open. The inside glows brightly. It’s never done that before. I reach in and remove the coffee can containing Henri’s ashes and his letter, still in its sealed envelope. I close the lid and relock it. I know it’s stupid, but I feel like I’m somehow keeping Henri alive by not reading the letter he left behind. Once the Chest is open, and once the letter is read, he’ll have nothing left to tell me, nothing left to teach-and then he’ll become nothing more than a memory. I’m not ready for it yet.

I open the closet where my clothes sit in a pile, and I bury the coffee can and letter under them. Then I grab the Chest and leave the room, hovering in the hallway to listen to Sam and Six streaming a show online called Ancient Aliens. Sam is asking Six about all the alien theories he knows and Six quickly confirms or denies them based on the teachings of Katarina. Sam furiously scribbles answers on his legal pad, which then breeds more questions that Six patiently answers or shrugs her shoulders at. Sam eats it up, drawing parallels to what he already knows.

“The pyramids of Giza? They were built by the Loric?”

“Partly us, but mostly the Mogadorians.”

“What about the Great Wall of China?”

“Humans.”

“Roswell, New Mexico?”

“You know, I’ve asked Katarina that once and she had no idea. So I don’t know either.”

“Wait, how long have the Mogadorians been coming here?”

“Almost as long as we have,” she says.

“So, like, this war between you two, is it new?”

“Not necessarily. What I know is that both sides have traveled to Earth for thousands of years; sometimes we were here at the same time, and from what I understand, much of it was spent on friendly terms. But then something happened that ruined the relationship, and the Mogadorians left for a very long time. Beyond that I don’t know much, and I have no idea when they started coming back.”

I cross the living room and plop the Chest in the middle of the dining-room floor. Sam and Six glance up. Six grins, again giving me strange flutters. I smile back, but it feels insincere.

“I figure we might as well open this thing together.”

Sam begins rubbing his hands with a crazy look in his eyes.

“Jeez, Sam,” I say. “You look like you’re about to murder somebody.”

“Oh, come on,” he says. “You’ve been teasing me with this Chest for almost a month now and I’ve been patient and I’ve kept my mouth shut out of respect for Henri and everything, but how often do I get to see the treasures from an alien planet? I just think about how the guys at NASA would die to be sitting where I am right now. You can’t blame me for being so into this.”

“Would you be mad if this whole time it’s been full of nothing but dirty laundry?”

“Alien dirty laundry?” Sam asks sarcastically.

I laugh, then reach down and grab hold of the lock. My hand instantly glows when touching the cold metal, and the lock again warms, shaking and twisting in my grip, protesting the ancient powers that keep it closed.