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or store this moment up. Tears slip down Sarah’s cheeks and I wipe them away with my thumbs. She puts her hand over mine, squeezing hard, and I can tell she’s trying to steel herself. She takes a deep, shuddering breath and fights back more tears.
    ‘I have to go, John.’
    ‘I trust you,’ I whisper urgently. ‘I don’t just mean to find Mark. If things get bad, I trust you to stay alive. I trust you to come back to me in one piece.’
    Sarah grabs the front of my shirt, pulls me in. I feel a few of her tears against my cheek. I try to let everything go – mymissing friends, the war, her leaving me – and just live for a while in her kiss. I wish I could go back to Paradise with her, not as it is now, but the way it was months ago – sneakily making out in my temporary bedroom while Henri was grocery shopping, stealing looks during class, the easy, normal life. But that’s over. We’re not kids anymore. We’re fighters – soldiers – and we have to act the part.
    Sarah pulls away from me and, in one fluid motion, not wanting to drag this painful moment out any longer, she opens the door and hops out of the van. She shoulders her backpack and whistles. ‘Come on, Bernie Kosar!’
    BK clambers into the front seat, head cocked at me, as if wondering why I’m not getting out of the van, too. I scratch him behind his good ear and he lets out a little whine.
    Keep her safe
, I tell him telepathically.
    Bernie Kosar puts both his front paws on my leg and sloppily licks the side of my face. Sarah laughs.
    ‘So many good-bye kisses,’ she says as BK jumps down from the van. Sarah clips on his leash.
    ‘This isn’t good-bye,’ I say. ‘Not really.’
    ‘You’re right,’ Sarah replies, her smile getting shaky, a note of uncertainty creeping into her voice. ‘I’ll see you soon, John Smith. Stay safe.’
    ‘See you soon. I love you, Sarah Hart.’
    ‘I love you, too.’
    Sarah turns away, hurrying towards the sliding doors of the bus station, Bernie Kosar trotting along at her heels. She looks back at me only once, right before she disappears through the doors, and I wave. Then, she’s gone – into the bus station and eventually off to some secret location in Alabama, searching for a way to help us win this war.
    I have to stop myself from running after her, so I clutch the steering wheel until my knuckles are white. Too white – my Lumen kicks in unexpectedly, my hands glowing. I haven’t lost control of that since … well, since back in Paradise. I take a deep breath and calm myself down, glancing around, making sure no one outside the bus station noticed. I turn the key in the ignition, feel the van rumble to life and pull away from the bus station.
    I miss her. I already miss her.
    I head back towards one of Baltimore’s rougher neighborhoods, where Sam, Malcolm and Adam are waiting for me, planning an assault. I know where I’m going and what I’m doing, but I still feel adrift. I remember my brief scuffle with Adam in the destroyed John Hancock penthouse, how I almost fell out the window. That feeling of emptiness behind me, of teetering right next to the edge, that’s how I feel now.
    But then I imagine Sarah’s hands pulling me away from that empty space. I imagine what it will be like when we meet again, what it will be like with Setrákus Ra vanquished and the Mogadorians beaten back into the cold emptiness of space. I imagine the future and I smile grimly. There’s only one way to make that happen.
    It’s time to fight.



4
    We hike through the darkness, down a muddy road carved out of the swampland, the rhythmic sucking noises from our waterlogged sneakers and the incessant chirping of bugs the only sounds. We pass by a solitary wooden pole, slanted and close to being totally uprooted, the streetlight out, power lines sagging under the overgrown trees, disappearing into them. It’s a welcome sign of society after two days spent in the swamps, hardly sleeping, turning invisible at