The Last Days of Lorien by Pittacus Lore

“Can you see anything now?”
    “He will be important,” the man said sadly. “That’s all I know.”
    “What about me?” I asked.
    The man smiled sadly. “You will be important also,” he said. “But you will die.”
    I knew he was right. It was okay, though. We were all going to die. At least I would do it making a difference.
    As I walked away, back down the path to the van, the boy’s arms wrapped around my neck, I looked over my shoulder and took one last look at the man who had raised him. It was streaming with tears that ran in deep furrows through the caked dust on his cheeks and into his beard.
    And then the second wave of missiles came down, booming in the distance.

CHAPTER 14
    The ground on the trail was uneven under my feet as I raced down the path, the branches and brambles scratching my face in the dark. I cursed under my breath and stumbled at every third step. The kid in my arms had started to cry as soon as his grandfather had disappeared from view, but he was doing it quietly.
    “It’s okay,” I said, rubbing his back. “It’s okay, little guy.”
    It wasn’t okay. But maybe things would be better someday—for the kid in my arms, if not for me. First, though, I had to get him to the evacuation site without getting us both killed on the way.
    That was going to be easier said than done: I gasped when I emerged from the trees into the clearing near the hut and saw the sky.
    It was as bright as day, bright blue punctuated with quick-fire bursts of pastel pinks and purples all up and down the horizon. It was like the entire world was on fire. Maybe it was. The explosions were coming faster than I could count.
    I couldn’t stop to think about it. Panic wasn’t going to do me any good, and there would be plenty of time for mourning later. Brandon and the evacuation ship would be leaving soon if it hadn’t already left. There had to be nine Garde. Brandon had said it and somehow I knew it in my gut. I had to get him to the ship before takeoff.
    The vehicle was just up ahead. One step at a time.
    When I strapped the kid in next to me and fired up the autopilot system, the screen on the console lit up in a sea of red. The system was still linked in to an LDF satellite that was reading conditions all over the planet, and the devastation already wrought across the surface of Lorien—rendered in blinking red patches on the screen—had most routes back to the evacuation airstrip looking risky at best. The route I’d taken to get here was completely obstructed.
    With that no longer an option, it seemed like my best bet was to pass through Malka, and then rejoin the original route at its midpoint. I fired up the autopilot, cranked it up to the highest speed it could achieve, and took a deep breath. It would either work or it wouldn’t. The engine began to whir. The vehicle lurched forward and we went hurtling out into the burning night.
    Then I turned to the still crying kid. I had no experience with children. I wasn’t even a Mentor Cêpan trainee . Once I dropped him off at the airstrip, he would go on to whatever his great destiny was and would cease to be my problem.
    But I hated hearing him cry. I looked him in the eye and he gasped for breath a little bit as his wails became weaker. It was like he didn’t want me to see him like this. It was like he was trying to be brave.
    “Listen, kid,” I said. When I spoke, his sobs got even quieter. “Things are going to be a little dicey for a little bit. You need to be brave. You’re a Garde, you know? Someday you’re going to have a lot of power. You’ll be able to be whoever you want to be. But first, you need to keep your chin up. After all, you’re the future of the whole damn Lorien race, right?”
    The boy was looking at me intently now, no longer crying at all. He was hanging on my every word, his eyes wide and his small mouth formed into a tiny O . “You got it, buddy?” I asked. “We need you.”
    He gave me a stern look and waved