I Am Number Four: The Lost Files: Last Defense

“Take the goddamn safety off!” Briggs shouts as he opens fire. Lujan joins him, shooting a giant revolver that looks like it could take down an elephant.

The creature seems unfazed, or possibly just isn’t hit by any of the shots. Whatever the case, it bats me out of the way with one massive arm as it flies by, sending me rolling into the trunk of a nearby tree. Briggs manages to outmaneuver it, dodging its next swipe and hustling backwards. A barrage of bullets from his assault rifle shreds one of the creature’s legs. It hits the ground hard.

I hear someone barking a command behind me in a language that causes every muscle in my body to tense. There are a dozen Mogs—maybe more—darting towards us through the trees, trying to catch up to the beast. Several in front are already aiming our way.

“Mogs! Take cover!” I shout, scrambling to my feet.

Briggs ducks behind another tree near me as blaster fire sends smoking bits of bark falling all around us. I get the safety off my pistol, and we fire into the approaching squad. A few of the Mogs disintegrate. Behind me and several yards to my left, Lujan fires in a steady rhythm, Mogs turning to dust after every shot. His gun thunders like a cannon each time he pulls the trigger.

At some point the monster must have disappeared. I don’t see it anywhere. Or maybe it’s turned to dust, destroyed by Lujan.

“I’m out,” I say as my weapon starts clicking with an empty chamber. Briggs tosses me a clip, and I fumble to reload.

That’s when a roar sounds over my shoulder and I turn just in time to see the creature leap out of the trees, using its remaining muscular leg to send itself flying straight for me. I’m too slow and can’t get my handgun loaded and turned in time. The monster holds one of its elbows in the air, ready to plunge the spiked joint into me.

I whistle.

It’s a reflex—in my panic I’d forgotten all about my bodyguard, but some primal part of my consciousness must realize that whistling is the only thing that will save me now. Gamera descends in a split second, obviously having been waiting in the trees for his moment to strike, moving so fast that I wonder if he was already in the air when I whistled. He takes the form of a panther, intercepting the Mog beast in midair, gnashing sharp teeth around its one good leg.

“What the hell is going on?” Lujan shouts, aiming his gun at the animals fighting tooth and nail in front of him.

“Don’t! The cat’s with me!”

He looks at me in confusion. That’s when a blaster shot hits him in the stomach. He groans, clutching his gut as his knees hit the ground.

“Shit!” Briggs shouts. He starts forward, but there’s a tangle of beasts between us and Lujan, not to mention half a dozen Mogs still firing at anything that moves.

“Gamera!”

I don’t know how much the Chim?rae understand anyone who’s not a Garde, but the panther looks my way, ripping off the monster’s good leg as he does so. I point towards where the blaster fire is coming from in the trees.

“Attack.”

He must understand some of that, because suddenly he’s a bird shooting overhead. Moments later I hear a roar, followed by the sound of a Mogadorian scream. It only lasts for a few seconds before going silent.

I take a few steps forward, sticking to the trees for cover. When I’m close to the Mog beast, it roars at me, struggling to get up using only its arms.

I raise my pistol and fire over and over again. Each bullet finds a home in the bastard’s head. Dark, viscous mucus spurts onto the trees and grass behind it. After a few seconds my pistol starts to click again.

The monster falls to the grass. Lifeless. Then it slowly starts to dissolve, until it’s nothing but a pile of ash.

Despite being in a shootout with invaders who’ve come to take my planet, I can’t help but feel exhilaration every time one of them turns to dust.

Maybe I’m not so useless after all.

“Dammit, I’m almost out of ammo,” Briggs says.

That’s when I realize all the blaster fire has stopped.

Gamera darts out of the trees, back in the form of a black panther, his gleaming coat covered in ash.

“Holy Jesus,” Briggs keeps repeating. “What’s happening?”

I don’t get to answer. Lujan’s groaning in front of me, clutching his stomach. There’s smoke rising from holes in his chest. He must have been hit a few times when we weren’t looking. There’s blood everywhere.

I kneel beside him, but it’s too late. He points in the direction of Union Station and then his breathing stops. All I can do is close his eyes and mutter an apology that he got dragged into this, telling myself that he’ll be the last casualty of this war, even though of course I know that’s not true.

“He’s . . . ,” Briggs says.

I nod my head.

“This thing . . . ,” He aims his rifle at Gamera, who stalks the trees around me, sniffing the air. “This . . . this animal . . . it’s an alien too?”

“That animal is on our side. He just saved our lives.”

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