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Five has a piece of steel sticking out of his sternum. It looks like a broken-off pole from a street sign. He turns to the side slightly so that I can see the jagged other end poking out through his back. Each end comes out only a few inches, and both are twisted and warped like Five had to shorten the pole by ripping it with his hands. It’s straight through and, at the very least, has to be puncturing one of Five’s lungs and part of his spine. The steel pole could even be right up against his heart.
“I was already in my metal form when he drove it through me. That didn’t stop him, though,” Five explains, wheezing his words a bit. He looks at Nine with something close to admiration. “My instincts kicked in. I used my Externa in a way I hadn’t before, made the metal part of me. I can feel it cold inside me, Four. It’s weird.”
Five seems almost casual about this. I take a tentative step towards him and he smiles.
“I’m tired and I can’t hold my Externa forever,” Five says. “So I wanted it to be up to you. You’re the good one, John. The reasonable one. And you were always right in front of me in the order, keeping me alive all those years, whether you knew me or not. So what’s it going to be?”
I take another cautious step towards him. “Five . . .”
“Live or die?” Five asks, and then, without warning, he turns himself back into flesh.
CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN
FIVE CHOKES ON THE NEXT BREATH HE TAKES. A bubble of blood spews from his mouth. His skin, no longer covered by a layer of steel, goes pale in a hurry. His remaining eye goes wide and, in that moment before I watch it roll back in his head, I see fear there. Maybe Five thought he wanted this. But now, looking death in the face, he is scared.
Five collapses backwards into the grass, seizing and struggling to pull in painful-sounding breaths. Ten seconds. Impaled by a sign pole, that’s how long I’d guess Five has left to live.
He betrayed us. He told the Mogs where they could find us and got Nine’s safe house blown up. Because of Five, Setrákus Ra was able to kidnap Ella, and Sam’s dad was almost killed. He murdered Eight. With that needle-shaped blade that even now tears up chunks of dirt as Five spasms in the grass, Five executed one of his own people. He deserves this.
But I’m not like him. I can’t just watch him die.
“Goddamn you, Five,” I say through gritted teeth as I run forward and slide into the grass next to him. I press both my hands to his chest and use my healing Legacy, putting enough energy into him to at least stanch some of the internal bleeding, buying myself time to do the bigger healing. Five comes back to himself a little, his one eye finds mine and I think I catch the corner of his mouth twist into a knowing smile. Then, he passes out from pain and shock.
I need to get this metal pole out of him. Obviously I haven’t read a whole lot of medical textbooks, but I’m pretty sure removing it will further damage Five’s insides. Therefore, I should be healing him at the same time that metal is removed, hopefully to minimize the damage. I wrestle Five’s limp body into a sitting position, propping him up against me. Then, I wave Sam over.
“I need you to use your telekinesis to push the metal out of him,” I tell Sam quickly. “That way I can concentrate on the healing.”
“I . . .” Sam hesitates. He stares at Five’s mortally wounded frame and swallows hard. “I don’t think so, John.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I don’t think you should save him,” Sam replies, his voice more resolute now. He glances over his shoulder at Nine’s unconscious body. “Nine, uh . . . I think Nine was right with how he handled this.”
My hand is on the back of Five’s neck. I can feel his pulse getting slower. I stabilized him, but it won’t last long. He’s fading. I’m not sure it’ll work if I try using my telekinesis at the same time as my healing.
“He’s dying, Sam.”
“I know.”
“This has gone too far,” I say. “We’re not killing each other, not anymore. Help me save him, Sam.”
“No,” Sam replies, shaking his head. “He’s too—look, I’m not going to stop you. I know I couldn’t even if I tried. But I’m not helping you. I’m not helping him.”
“Hell, I’ll do it,” Daniela says, pushing by Sam and kneeling on the ground next to me.
I stare at Sam for a second longer. I get why he’s refusing to help, I really do. I’m sure Nine wouldn’t be leaping to my aid if he was conscious either. Still, I’m disappointed.
I turn my attention to Daniela. She’s staring at Five’s impalement like it’s the craziest thing she’s ever seen. She reaches out one hand towards where the metal disappears into his chest, but can’t quite bring herself to touch it.
“Why?” I ask her. “You don’t know Five or what he’s done. Why would you—?”
Daniela cuts me off with a shrug. “Because you asked. Now we doing this or not?”
“We’re doing this,” I say, setting my hands on either side of Five’s wound. “Push. Gently. I’ll heal him as we go.”
Daniela squints at the piece of metal, her hands hovering a few inches away from Five’s chest. I wonder if she has the control for this. If she exerts too much telekinetic force she could end up rocketing the steel pole right out of Five and I’m not sure I’ll be able to heal his torn-up insides fast enough. We have to go slow and steady, or risk Five bleeding out.
Slowly, Daniela starts to push the metal. Five’s breathing quickens when she does and he begins to squirm, although his eyes stay closed. She keeps her focus and has better control than I anticipated. I press my hands to Five’s chest, one on each side of the wound, and let my healing energy flow into him.
“Gross, gross, gross,” Daniela mutters under her breath.
I keep sending energy into Five, sensing his injuries mending but also feeling my Legacy thwarted by the metal still in his body. That’s until I hear a wet thunk in the grass and realize Daniela’s successfully pushed the post out of Five. When that happens, I really amp things up, healing his lungs and spine.
When I’m done, Five breathes easier. He’s still unconscious and, for the first time I can remember, looks almost peaceful. Thanks to me, he’s going to live. Now that the moment has passed, I’m not sure how I feel about that.
“Damn, man,” Daniela says. “We should be surgeons or something.”
“I hope we don’t regret this,” Sam says quietly.
“We won’t,” I say, glancing at Sam. “I did this. He’s my responsibility now.”
With that in mind, and considering he’s still knocked out, I quickly undo the wrist-mounted blade from Five’s forearm and toss it into the grass at Sam’s feet. Sam picks it up, carefully examines the mechanism and then hits the button to retract the blade. He tucks the weapon into the back of his jeans.
I remind myself that even without his blade Five isn’t fully disarmed. I open up both of his hands, looking for the rubber ball and ball bearing that he carries around to trigger his Externa. He isn’t holding them, so I start patting him down. When they don’t turn up in his pockets, I know there’s only one place they can be.
Cringing, I peel back the yellowed gauze pad that covers Five’s ruined eye. Jammed into the empty socket is the glinting ball bearing and its rubbery partner. It can’t be comfortable to have those two things stuffed inside his head. This is the life I’ve saved—a guy who sees losing an eye as an opportunity for more efficient storage. I use my telekinesis to scoop the two spheres out of Five’s eye socket and chuck them into the grass. He moans, but doesn’t come to.
“That’s nasty,” Daniela says.
“No kidding,” I reply. I look over at Agent Walker. She’s been watching this whole scene in silence. I know she probably sided with Sam and thinks I should’ve let Five die. That’s how I know I did the right thing. “Get me something to tie him up with,” I say to Walker.
Having just watched me scoop out hidden treasures from Five’s eye cavity, it takes Walker a moment to react to
my request. She reaches behind her, unclips her handcuffs and tosses them to me.
I catch them and immediately toss them back. “You know that’s a terrible idea, right? He turns into whatever he touches, Walker. Go get me some rope or something.”
“I’m an FBI agent, John. I don’t carry rope around with me.”
“Check the boat,” I say, shaking my head.
Annoyed that I’m giving her orders in front of the other agents, Walker sends Agent Murray jogging off to check if there’s any rope on the coast guard boat.
“You’re soft, Johnny.”
I turn around to see that Nine’s regained consciousness. He’s sitting up with his forearms braced against his knees, his head hunched a bit like it’s still bothering him. He looks from me to Five and back, shaking his head.
“You know how hard it was to shove that signpost through him?” Nine sighs.
I walk over and crouch in front of him. “You mad?”
Nine shrugs his burly shoulders, seeming oddly zen. “Whatever, dude. I’ll just kill him again later.”
“I really wish you wouldn’t.”
Nine rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. All right, man. I get that you’re against the death penalty and all that shit. Did he beg you to save his life, at least? I would’ve liked to have seen that.”
“He didn’t beg,” I tell Nine. “In fact, I think he wanted to die.”
