Nine's Legacy by Pittacus Lore

Author:Pittacus Lore
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins

Chapter Twenty-two

My life becomes push-ups and silence.

The Mogs have stuck me in a small cell and seem to have forgotten me. There’s no night and day here and, as best as I can tell, they only feed me when they feel like it. Keeping track of the time becomes impossible. So I do push-ups. On the floor, on the walls, on the ceiling—wherever I can in my tiny prison.

I think about Sandor. I have faith that he’s still out there looking for me. One day he’ll find me. We will break out of here and I will kill every Mog that dares stand in my way.

I thought I was in good shape before, but I’m getting bigger and stronger. I can tell by the way the Mogs who bring my food keep a careful distance that I intimidate them.

I’m glad. Let them think about what’s coming when I get out of here. I hope they dream about it like I do.

Sometimes the large Mog who captured me, or one of the other important-looking ones, stops by my cell to ask me some vague question. Where have I hidden my transmission device? What do I know about Spain?

I never answer. I haven’t spoken since my first day here. I grunt and growl, and show them my teeth. Let them think that I’ve gone crazy, that captivity has turned me into some kind of animal. Maybe it has.

When I sleep, the nightmares come. They feel as real as the vision I had of Lorien, but offer none of the comfort. In them, an enormous Mogadorian covered in heinous tattoos and scars points a golden weapon shaped like a giant hammer in my direction. On the flat part is painted a black eye that pulses when aimed at me, creating a sensation like having my guts scooped out.

Somehow, I know who this giant monster is. Setrakus Ra. My enemy.

Sleeping is bad, but sometimes being awake is even worse. These are days where I feel like I can’t breathe. It feels as if the entire cavernous prison is sitting on top of me. The need to escape becomes primal then, and I throw myself against the glowing blue force field that keeps me in my cell, letting it buffet me across the tiny space until I’m too exhausted to do it again.

The nausea sets in then. I learn to fight through it. Each time I hit the force field, it hurts a little less.

I try not to think about Maddy.

One day the Mogs take me out of my cell. If I had to guess, I’d say that it has been months since I came here.

They lead me to a different cell, where they place me behind another blue force field. The large Mog from the van is in the room, seated on what I immediately recognize as a Loric Chest.

My Loric Chest.

“We found him in Ohio,” says the Mog matter-of-factly. “Snooping around the office of a little newsletter we’ve been keeping under surveillance. Looking for you.

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