The Forgotten Ones Read Free

at home with my parents and sister. Ashwood is the largest Mogadorian community on Earth, after all, so there’s a good chance he grew up there too. Even if he was a bit older than me, I’d have seen him around occasionally, or heard his name. I study his face, though, and find that I don’t recognize him it all. “They call me Rex.”
    I just nod. There’s nothing to say right now. We just have to keep climbing. So we climb.
    And then, after who knows how much time, we emerge from the pit and stumble over the edge into a vast desert. I didn’t think it would be possible, but the sun on my brow feels even hotter than before.
    I only take a few seconds to rest and catch my breath before I dust myself off and scan the horizon, looking for something—anything—other than dirt and rocks, and after a minute, my eyes settle on what looks like a small building. I don’t know what we’ll find—there could still be Mogadorians inside, for all I know—but I decide I don’t have much choice, especially if it means finding water and some respite from the heat.
    “All right then, Rex,” I say, pointing to the building in the distance. “Let’s get moving. That way.”
    He just nods and starts walking. I follow him, wondering again if I’m doing the right thing. It would be so easy to kill him. For now he’s weak, his reflexes dulled, his mind fuzzy. It would take nothing for me to sneak up behind him and get rid of him once and for all. This could be my only chance. Once he’s recovered, he’d be able to overpower me easily. Then he might not think twice before killing me.
    But he’s a Mogadorian officer. I have no idea what information he has or how valuable he is to my people. All I know is that if he knows anything that can help Malcolm and the Loric people, it’s worth it to keep him alive even if it means risking my own neck. It’s what One would want.

CHAPTER THREE
    MY FEET FEEL LIKE THEY’RE MADE OF LEAD ; it’s a supreme effort to lift each one and set it back down. My head is throbbing, my tongue feels swollen and my nose is so dry it hurts to breathe in through it, but my throat is coated with sand and swallowing makes me want to retch. My skin is tight and crinkly, and I itch everywhere—when I glance at my arm I realize it’s bright red, the harsh sunlight already burning me. Every movement sends little jolts of pain washing across my every joint, over every inch of exposed flesh. I can’t see straight—the desert stretches out ahead of me, and the building we’re heading towards doesn’t seem to be getting closer. In fact, part of me is starting to wonder if it’s even real. When I stare at it for too long it begins to waver, like it’s just a mirage that will always remain a few thousand paces in the distance.
    I’m not sure, though. I’m not sure of anythinganymore. I’ve never felt more alone in my life. In the past, even when things were at their worst, I always had One urging me along, reminding me of what was right. Then One was gone, but at least I had Malcolm. Now he’s gone, too, and I only have myself. I just wish myself was someone I had more faith in.
    Of course, I’m not actually alone. Rex is here too. But Rex is not my friend. If he knew who—or what —I was, he’d probably kill me on the spot. Killing the traitor Mogadorian who turned on his father and brought down the Dulce Base would earn him at least one promotion in rank.
    At the moment, though, Rex is useless. His stride’s become more erratic, his head is down like he can just bull through the entire New Mexico desert and he keeps muttering to himself. I don’t know what he’s saying, but I get the impression he’s talking to somebody else. Somebody who obviously isn’t here right now.
    So it’s just me, the desert and a hallucinating Mog soldier.
    And then the building we’re heading towards begins to transform from just a thick smudge in the distance where sand meets sky into a real shape that I can