A machine-gun barrel with a flashlight attachment is leveled inches from Daniela’s face. A shadowy form, covered in bulky equipment and body armor, inches cautiously into our train car, backing Daniela down. Too late, I notice flashlight beams in the next car over—at least a dozen of them, maybe more. A second halogen beam shines right into my eyes, a second gunman boarding our car. Without thinking about it, I ignite my Lumen, fire slithering across my fists.

“Wait,” Sam warns. “They aren’t Mogs.”

I hear the telltale click of a round being chambered, probably in response to my channeling a fireball. The subway car aisle is narrow, Daniela is in the way and the light in my face makes it difficult to see. Definitely not ideal conditions. I could probably disarm them with my telekinesis, but I don’t want to risk them getting off a burst of automatic fire at such close quarters. Better to wait and see how this plays out.

I let my Lumen wink out, and at the same time the soldier in front lowers his flashlight beam out of my face, pointing his gun at the floor. He’s wearing a helmet, fatigues and night-vision goggles. Despite all that, I can tell he’s only a few years older than me.

“You’re him,” the soldier says, a bit of awe in his voice. “John Smith.”

I’m still not used to this whole being-recognized thing, so it takes me a moment to answer. “That’s right.”

The soldier snaps a walkie-talkie off his belt and speaks into it. “We’ve got him,” he says, not taking his eyes off me.

Daniela edges towards Sam and me, glancing between us and the soldiers, more of whom are now filtering into our train car, fanning out, making the whole area even tighter. “Friends of yours?”

“Not sure,” I reply quietly.

“Sometimes the government likes us, other times not so much,” Sam explains.

“Great,” Daniela replies. “For a second there, I thought they were here to arrest me.”

The soldier’s walkie-talkie crackles to life, a familiar woman’s voice filling the train car. “Ask them nicely, but bring them in,” the woman commands.

The soldier clears his throat uncomfortably, staring at us.

“Please come with us,” he says. “Agent Walker would like a word.”

CHAPTER

NINE

THE SOLDIERS RUSH US THROUGH THE SUBWAY tunnels, out through the nearest station and finally into daylight. They’re constantly in a tight knot around us, a human shield, treating us like the Secret Service does the president. I let myself be hustled along, knowing that I can easily shove through them at the first sign of trouble. We don’t encounter any Mogadorian patrols on the way back to their armored Humvees, and pretty soon we’re rumbling through streets filled with broken chunks of building, the wreckage the result of last night’s Anubis bombardment.