Five seems so eager to please, like he’s just waiting for me to congratulate him on his crop-burning stunt. It’s as if he never considered it could attract unwanted attention, which strikes me as naïve. Maybe I’m judging him too harshly, but he seems soft to me. Sheltered. Or maybe I’ve spent too much time around hard cases like Six and Nine.

“Don’t worry about it,” I tell him, “it’s fine. We should get going.”

“Oh,” he mutters, his face falling. He looks away from me, scanning the area. “Is it just you? I hoped maybe you’d gotten together with some of the others.”

On cue, Six and Sarah materialize at my side. Five stumbles backwards, nearly tripping over his backpack.

Six steps forward. “I’m Six,” she says, blunt as ever. “John is too nice to tell you that your crop-circle stunt probably could’ve gotten you killed. It was stupid. You’re lucky we got here first.”

Five frowns, looking from Six to me. “Wow. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause trouble. I just—I didn’t know what else to do.”

“It’s okay,” I say, nodding at his pack. “Grab your stuff. We can talk it out on the road.”

“Where are we going?”

“We’re bringing you back to the others,” I say. “We’re all together now. It’s time to start the fight.”

“You’re all together?”

I nod. “You’re the last one.”

“Wow,” Five says, looking almost embarrassed. “Sorry I’m late to the party.”

“Come on,” I say, waving again at his pack. “We really need to move.”

Five leans down and grabs his backpack, and then looks at Sarah, who’s been standing by silently. “What number are you?”

She shakes her head. “I’m just Sarah,” she says, smiling.

“A human ally,” breathes Five, shaking his head. “Guys, my mind is officially blown.”

Six shoots me a look of bewilderment. I’ve got the same feeling. Maybe we’ve been through too many fights and close calls, but it seems like Five is way too casual. We should already be on the move, away from this place, and he just wants to stand here and chat.

“Look,” Six snaps, “we can’t just stand around gabbing. They could be co—”

Six is cut off by the sudden roar of a noise overhead. It’s a sound made by no earthly machinery. We all look up just as the silver Mogadorian ship throws on its floodlights, momentarily blinding us. Five, shielding his eyes, turns to look at me.

“Is that your ship?” he asks.

“Mogadorians!” I shout at him. Already, dark shapes are descending from the ship, the first wave of Mogadorian warriors on their way to attack.

“Oh,” says Five, blinking confusedly at the ship. “So that’s what they look like.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN