Regretfully, I headed to the front door, my evictor following me every step of the way. Feeling a little satisfied as we crunched over the broken window glass--at least I wasn’t completely without retribution--I turned to her.
“Well, thanks a lot,” I said. I didn’t even know if I was being sarcastic or not.
“Don’t come back again,” she replied. “I probably won’t be in as good a mood.”
Slamming the door behind me, I was left alone on the porch in the afternoon light. At least she’d let me keep the backpack I’d stocked.
Walking down the sidewalk toward the road, a feeling of dreariness sank over me. I hated this. Being homeless. Unwanted everywhere.
I spat at the earth.
There were several more mansions in every direction downward. But the farther down I went, the more I risked alien encounters. I didn’t want to head back into the forest either. There was nothing there for me now.
Maybe it was time to move on. Really move on. Away from home.
Surely there had to be a group of survivors—civilized survivors—somewhere. Surely humans hadn’t evolved for millions of years only to curl up and die at the first sight of E.T. We were fighters. Always had been. Often for the worse, but, maybe now, for the better.
Even Zach—little Zach—had left this world fighting.
I would too.
Chapter 7
Hoisting the backpack over my shoulders, I traipsed along the outer rim of houses, staying close to the trees. Night was coming and I didn’t know how I was going to pass it, so I’d decided to just walk until inspiration struck.
Inspiration was quick.
I was passing by another grandiose estate when I heard a sound I hadn’t heard in forever: a whinny. Some lonely horse was saying hello. Of course I had to go see.
I skirted the manor, taking care when crossing a crumbling wall, and saw a cozy barn sitting on a spacious, if unkempt, field. A scruffy bay horse, head over the fence, was looking eagerly at me.
“Hello there,” I said.
I approached him and he gladly accepted my offer to scratch his neck. Poor guy was all alone.
“You want some company?”
I climbed over the fence and walked toward the barn while the horse followed readily. Inside was surprisingly clean. There were two stalls, a washing area, and a closet for tack. I took one of the brushes and began to groom the horse’s back. He was very well-mannered and stood still, allowing me to fawn over every inch.
Like most girls, I’d gone through a horse-crazy phase. Dad had obliged and signed me up for lessons, which I continued for about two years before high school had claimed all my time. But I’d learned enough of the basics to keep from killing myself.
After being brushed he was slightly less mangy. A little on the skinny side, but it was clear he had good breeding. He’d probably cost more than my dad’s car.
I didn’t know where I was going, but wouldn’t I get there faster on horseback? At the very least, riding would spare some energy, and maybe this horse could even outrun the Vela, if it came to that.
I decided to do it.
Saddling up took a few tries—I wasn’t used to trail saddles—but I eventually got it figured out. The horse seemed keen to get going—as I swung up he trotted toward the gate. I’d forgotten how bumpy riding was.
I tried to remember my lessons as we passed by a small stream that ran through the field. Head up, heels down, don’t grab onto the saddle, try to relax.
I unlatched the gate and was just about to get to the relaxing part when the horse abruptly took off at a dead gallop.
“Aaaah!” I screamed, almost tumbling to the ground. Only grabbing onto the saddle horn saved me from falling.
Pull back on the reins to stop—pull back! I heard my old riding teacher’s voice in my head. But to pull back, I had to let go of the saddle horn, which was the only thing keeping me from dying. Somehow, though, I managed to get a grip on the reins and the lunatic horse finally slowed down.
“You naughty boy,” I scolded him. “You almost made me fall!”
He seemed chastened and began responding to my requests instantly, as if trying to make up for his bad behavior. Walk this way? You got it. You want to stop? Just say the word. I forgave him and together we managed to find a dirt trail that ran conveniently alongside the forest, behind the houses. I didn’t want the noisy clip-clop of hooves on concrete announcing our arrival everywhere we went.
The trail appeared to head down the mountain and away from the city toward, well, not much. Just flatlands. Sparse, grassy flatlands. But if I really was leaving, I’d have to hit the wilderness sometime. I may not have been born much of a girl scout, but I’d come a long way the past year.
The horse didn’t seem to care which direction I chose—he was just glad to be out of the pasture. Who knows how long he’d been stuck there.
Gradually, the feel of being on horseback was coming back to me. We stole between the houses and the forest for a while without incident, until the horse stopped abruptly. Head high, he inhaled deeply, making my legs to stretch a little more. I didn’t see anything, but I gathered the reins in case the horse decided to take off again. His ears swiveled toward the houses and we both listened carefully.
There was something there—the aliens’ garbled noises were coming from a couple of houses away. But that wasn’t the only sound I heard—voices, human voices—were also there.
I dismounted and quietly led the horse toward the sounds, muscles tense enough to jump back on and gallop away in a second if needed.
The horse didn’t want to go—he pulled his head away a couple of times—but I was stubborn with him. He seemed to pick up on my wish for stealth. We stole through a backyard and I peered around the corner.
There were people. Half a dozen, ranging from teen to senior citizen. And just like the group I saw in the forest, they were being prodded into a big silver ball by a small group of aliens.
The people were protesting—one of the men swung a shovel, and a woman shielded the teenager behind her as she brandished a fireplace poker. But the monsters didn’t retaliate. The ones closest to the threat just took the blows, and others took their place, continuing to herd the people back to the ball. They were careful not to harm one person.
As the Vela pressed inward, the people ran out of room and had no choice but to yield. They were pushed into the ball, and the door closed behind them. It immediately rolled away out of sight.
It didn’t make any sense. Why would they suddenly change tactics from killing to kidnapping?
Before I could puzzle over it too much, my arm was yanked backward. I’d looped the reins around my elbow and the horse had tried to bolt. I was able to grab them before he could take off, but just barely.
“What’s the matter with you?” I chided quietly.
That’s when I saw the Vela—it must have snuck up behind the house and was practically on top of us.
I gasped, a sound that drew attention from the other creatures. They turned and when they saw me, charged.
I leapt onto the saddle so fast it would have made any rodeo queen jealous. The horse didn’t even need a kick—as soon as I was on, he flew.
Alien claws lunged toward us in hot pursuit. I glanced back and saw one had its talons caught in the horse’s tail. With a death grip on the horse’s mane, I pleaded with him to go faster. A hoof kicked up with such force the Vela fell to the side with a yowl. How I managed to stay on through it all was a mystery.
The enemy was out of sight, but still the horse ran. I tried to coax him down, but he wouldn’t listen—just ran and ran, breaths coming in a huff. I couldn’t do anything but go along for the ride.
His gallop slowed eventually—to a lope and then to a trot. Then he stopped, looked around a bit, and lowered his head to the grass, as if nothing was wrong and he hadn’t just torn through miles of earth in a run for his life.
Silly animal.
Lucky animal. If it h
adn’t been for him, I would’ve been as good as dead. I decided to call him Lucky. Childish, maybe, but I needed any luck I could get.
As Lucky grazed, I tried to figure out where we were. Our flight had not taken us directly down to the flatland, but closer to it. We were near the edge of the forest on the foothills, and I could see a long way out.
The shadows were lengthening and Lucky looked like he was settling in for some serious eating, so I loosened the saddle. I knew now that he would sense the aliens before they could get too close.
Hunger gnawed at me. Horses were so lucky they could eat weeds. I prowled around a little and found a bush with some berries. Living in the woods the last while had taught me which ones were okay to eat, and which ones would have me running to the bathroom every ten minutes. They didn’t exactly fill me up, but at least the stomach acids had something to work on besides my insides.
The stars appeared and I found myself gazing upward. I used to wish on them and looking at them now made me feel betrayed.
With a sigh, my gaze lowered. Then I saw it—was that?—it was! A cloud of light hovered in the distance. The light a city makes from a distance. It couldn’t be the aliens—they didn’t bother with electricity. It had to be people! A whole city full!
A sense of hope flooded through me. I hadn’t realized how dispirited I’d become until I saw that glowing light in the distance. It had to be people.
I had my heading.
Chapter 8
We didn’t leave until the following night. I knew my memory wasn’t reliable enough to keep me pointed in the right direction, so travelling in the dark, when the light was visible, was my only choice.
It made me nervous, though. From what I could tell, the Vela had much better night vision than humans. Lucky’s instincts were all I had to keep me safe, but I decided to trust them. He didn’t want to run into the aliens any more than I did.
I buried Meg’s ring before departing, underneath a pine tree where I hoped it wouldn’t be disturbed. A small rock etched with the word “Meg” made for a headstone. I gazed at it with a lump in my throat. She’d been the last person to act as guardian to me.
I was on my own.
That first night went relatively smoothly. Lucky got a bit spookish when a lone coyote made an appearance, but it ran off after I yelled and threw rocks. I was becoming aware how different animals were behaving as humanity's numbers dwindled--more bold and less assuming.
Near daybreak we came to a shallow river. It was a welcome sight for the both of us and, even thought it was freezing cold, I couldn’t resist a bath. I felt about two pounds lighter afterward, without all the dust caked on. Grateful I’d had the foresight to pack them back at the mansion, I relished putting on fresh, clean clothes.
By the time the sun came up, Lucky and I were both exhausted. I wasn’t sure how to safely pass the daylight hours. So far there hadn’t been any Vela—at least none that had registered on Lucky’s radar—but I wasn’t so confident I wanted to sleep out in the open. Other than a few trees scattered here and there, there was nothing that offered any cover.
A tree would have to do.
We settled under the nearest one. I tied Lucky to a sturdy branch and tried to make a nest for myself by pressing down the pale green weeds that dominated the landscape. Needless to say, it wasn’t at all comfortable, but I was so exhausted that it didn’t matter. I fell asleep in no time.
The sun was low in the sky when I finally awoke. Taking a long swig from the thermos, I watched lazy butterflies dance over the tops of the golden fields. It was picture perfect.
Or it would have been, except for the fact that monsters only a few miles away.
Or perhaps lurking in the grass nearby….
I saddled up quickly. It wasn’t quite dark enough for the city lights to show, but I was pretty sure we were headed the right way.
The sun had just set when I noticed the band of coyotes dogging us. Lucky trotted nervously as I tried to count the shadowy shapes weaving in and out of the tall grass. I wished I had a flashlight. Actually, as long as I was wishing, I wished I was in a soft bed, with a cell phone and a cheeseburger.
The coyotes, originally timid and only just peeking into sight, were getting more daring. One came skirting right up next to Lucky’s hindquarters. He kicked out and I lost my balance. Before I could regain it, a pair of the mongrels suddenly came at us from both sides. There was no question: these animals weren’t just curious—they were hunting.
Despite my precarious position in the saddle, I nudged the horse’s sides, and suddenly we were loping through the fields in the dark. The coyotes sprinted after us, keeping pace effortlessly. I was worried Lucky might trip on a rock or in a gopher hole, but we couldn’t slow down. I could only watch as the hunters moved in closer.
Two coyotes burst from the darkness, and Lucky took a hard turn, throwing me from the saddle. I landed hard, and was instantly charged at. I only had a second to pull my knives from their sheaths, but that was all I needed.
The animals growled as they pounced, almost in sync. Moonlight glinted from the knives as I whirled to meet them. The first was struck on the neck and the second on the shoulder. Crouching in a fighting stance, I brandished the knives again, but there was no need—they’d backed away immediately, yipping as they went.
But then I realized they weren’t just fleeing—they were chasing my horse. He was tearing through the grass at a full gallop, stirrups flapping. I watched as he fled out of sight, the entire band of coyotes nipping at his hooves, and wondered if I would ever see him again.
With a fallen face, I began walking along in the same direction we’d been heading before the attack. The light was still glowing upward, a beacon of safe harbor from the darkness surrounding it. The grass was getting deeper—it was up to my thighs now—but I was resigned. Nothing would stop me from pursuing the light.
A few hours later the light still looked as far away s it had when it first appeared. I was sore, I was tired, and I was hungry. Principally hungry. I couldn’t keep my thoughts away from food: mashed potatoes, pizza, scrambled eggs, brownies, tacos—they circled around and around inside my head like vultures. I had gotten used to sporadic meals, but I couldn’t remember a time I had gone so long without eating.
Once I caught a glimpse of an animal out of the corner of my eye, and began hunting it, but it turned out to be a porcupine. Hungry as I was, I didn’t want to tangle with that.
It wasn’t much later that I saw another light in the darkness—one that was much closer. A campfire. Somehow, impossibly, here in the middle of nowhere, someone had built a fire. I wasn’t alone. But that might have been either a good thing or a bad thing. Had I been fully stocked on food and supplies, I wouldn’t have risked it, but I desperately needed to eat.
I crept as quietly as I could toward the campfire, mindful that any person I came across was sure to be fully on their guard. As I drew closer, voices—a male and a female—met my ears.
“How much water is left?” the girl asked.
“Enough to get us there,” the man replied.
“Enough for me to wash my hair?”
The man only scoffed.
Those voices, they were familiar.
Cautiously, I raised my head so I could see above the grass.
The man was sitting on a rock, sharpening a knife on a whetstone. The woman was rubbing her feet, boots arranged neatly beside her. The fire crackled between them and a plate of what smelled like rabbit meat sat cooling beside it.
It was John and Vanessa.
Chapter 9
“What are you doing here?”
“Rhyan?” Vanessa looked up, incredulous. John squinted at me in the darkness, but didn’t speak.
“You left!” I yelled, out of both shock and anger. “Both of you! Just abandoned everything and took off! How could you do that?”
Vanessa glanced at John. He went back to sharpening his knife.
“I can’t believe you’re
here,” Vanessa said. “You look starved. Here, come eat something.”
Fuming, but insanely hungry, I joined them by the fire. I took some of the rabbit meat off the plate and Vanessa handed me an opened can of beets with a fork sticking out of it. They watched me while I ate, probably disgusted by how vigorously I began chowing down. But I didn’t care. If anyone should be disgusted with someone else, it should be me.
“You left me and Meg,” I accused Vanessa between bites. “Didn’t even try to help.”
Her stony face only blinked in response.
“And you,” I said to John. “You knew we were relying on you, and you just ditch out on us?”
He didn’t look the slightest bit abashed.
“You keep eating like that, you’re gonna choke,” he said.
I glared at him while Vanessa filled my canteen. I took a long drink, spilling water down my throat.
“So how long have you two been together?” I asked when my thirst was quenched.
Vanessa answered, “We ran into each other out here a couple days ago. I headed straight east after leaving the cave and John nearly got killed in the city. We both had the same idea of heading to the next place and met by coincidence at the river.”
I nodded and swallowed more beets as she asked, “So what are you doing out here? Where’s Meg?”
“She’s dead. No thanks to you,” I snapped. Truth was, though, that as my stomach filled, my anger didn’t have quite the same edge as before.
“I thought so,” she murmured. “So you left too?”
“After I tried to help her. After I knew she was really gone.”
“Then you came out here, to the middle of nowhere?”
I went to take another piece of meat from the plate, but it was empty.
“Did I eat all that?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Vanessa said. “It’s okay, though. John can catch more. He’s pretty good at the rabbits.”
Girl Vs (Sinister Skies Book 1) Page 4
