“Idiots,” he grumbles, then looks at me. “This is nuts, Johnny.”

“We need to protect as many as we can,” I reply.

“They need to protect themselves,” Nine says, then shouts over the shoulder of one of our agents. “Go home, you morons! Or get some guns and come back!”

Walker glares at him. “Please don’t encourage the civilians to get armed.”

Nine gives her a wild look and keeps shouting. “It’s war, lady! These people need to get prepared!”

Some of the people around us have overheard, or maybe they’re just unnerved by the growing police presence. I notice a few exchange nervous looks and people begin trickling back the way we came. Walker grimaces at Nine, then slaps one of the agents on the shoulder.

“Forward!” she shouts. “We need to move forward!”

There’s still a mob separating us from the UN, and it shows no signs of really thinning out. Walker’s agents and the cops start muscling through and we’re carried along with them.

“Watch it, dude! No cutting in the line to get beamed up!” shouts one bystander.

“Holy shit! It’s the Men in Black!” screams another.

“Are they going to hurt us?” a woman we pass yells at Sanderson, maybe recognizing him as someone important looking. “Are we in danger?”

Sanderson averts his eyes and soon the woman is lost in the crowd. It’s slow going, even with a dozen cops and agents bull-rushing ahead of us. These people need to get out of our way.

A wild-eyed guy with a scraggly beard who looks like the type to be waving handmade signs about the end of the world barrels right into Agent Walker. She’s thrown off balance, and I reach out to steady her. Walker doesn’t thank me—there’s fury and frustration in her eyes. Fed up with the crowd, she reaches for the gun holstered on her hip, maybe thinking she’ll fire a few shots in the air to clear the area. I stop her arm and shake my head when she glares at me.

“Don’t. You’ll start a panic.”

“This is already a panic,” she replies.

“Personally, I’d be panicking more if someone was shooting,” Sam chimes in.

Walker makes an annoyed noise and goes back to pushing her way through the crowd. I elbow Nine in the ribs. “Let’s help them,” I tell him, adding, “But don’t hurt anyone.”

Nine nods and we begin using telekinesis to move people out of our way. Nine’s gentler than I would have expected. We create a sort of telekinetic bubble around us, the nearby bystanders sliding off it. No one gets trampled, and slowly the path starts to clear for Walker and the rest of our escort.

As we move closer to the UN, we come directly under the shadow of the Mogadorian warship. A chill goes through me, but I try not let it show. There are flags of every nation planted in the ground on both sides of the road we’re pressing down, all these symbols flapping in a gentle spring breeze, caught beneath the looming Mogadorian vessel.