by Sherry Soule
“It’s a helluva story,” I say. “But where is everyone now? Do you guys stay in touch with the other hybrids?”
“Yeah. We meet once a year for a sort of warped family reunion.”
“But I still don’t get why the government allowed the Zetas to experiment on humans…”
He grabs another handful of sand and lets it slide through his fingers. “From what I understand, all of the soldiers involved with the Genetic Trials are being closely monitored by Sector Thirteen, in hopes that the human race will have an emergence of the next stage of evolution—Homo-superior. Part of this experiment also means that all of the soldiers’ descendants are now their new test subjects, and we’re in what you’d call a type of witness protection program. Sector Thirteen provides housing and funds for our families as long as we follow the hybrid laws.”
My head swivels toward him. “And if you don’t?”
His lips part, and he takes a sharp intake of breath. “I’m not sure. I asked my dad once, but he wouldn’t tell me. It must be bad…”
I watch the crashing waves licking at the sand. His ominous words trigger thoughts of the creeper following me around and I shudder. Maybe I’ve just entered an alternative universe.
He touches my hand lightly. “It actually feels kind of good to tell someone. To tell you.” Hayden is quiet, and for a fraction of a second, he looks lost and lonely. “It’s hard being so isolated from humans in a way, and the laws we have to live under...and moving all the time sucks.”
“That sounds like an awful way to live.” Tears fill my eyes and one rolls down my face.
He brushes it away and his knuckles linger on my cheek. My heart starts franticly beating.
He drops his hand. “But I need to stress that it’s dangerous for us to be friends, Sloane, and for you to even know about all this stuff, because the others won’t approve of our friendship.”
My eyebrows rise. “The others? Who are they?”
“The Galactic Brotherhood, our hybrid leaders. And my parents.”
“This all sounds kinda cultish, you know? The whole greater good of mankind garbage they’re feeding you,” I say.
He bites his lip and bobs his head. “Yeah, but my family only wants the best for Zach and me. My parents might be skewed in their beliefs, but they love us. Even if they are overly protective.”
“What happens if the Brotherhood discovers that a human knows about them?”
“I’ve heard they capture the person and use a special device they have in an underground facility to wipe their memories, like electronic shock therapy. It gives them a form of dementia that causes problems with memory, and this type of amnesia often leads to severe brain damage or insanity…”
Holy zombies. Brain damage, insanity, and losing all of my memories would be super scary. I’d forget Hayden. Even my family and friends…everyone I care about. The hybrids must have some advanced Zeta gadget, like the neutralizer in the Men in Black films, except the movie version sounds a heck of a lot safer. I hug my arms around my body, a coldness seeping into my bones.
“Maybe it’s not true,” I say, my heart and mind refusing to believe it. “Maybe that’s just a bedtime story that parents tell their hybrid babies so they’ll go to sleep.”
We sit in silence for a few minutes, staring at the ocean.
“I guess it could be…” Hayden tucks loose hair behind my ear. “But I’d never let that happen to you, Sloane.”
A thought occurs to me and I ask, “If you’re supposed to be superior humans, then why does Zach wear contacts?”
He chuckles darkly. “My brother doesn’t wear them to correct his vision. He wears colored contacts so his eyes are the same color. It’s the one distinctive feature all of the Zeta hybrids have.”
“Why don’t you wear them?”
“They dry out my eyes, and I like my eye color just the way it is. Actually not too many people even notice.”
“Oh. So, is that all?”
“Yup, that’s about it.” He grabs my hands and stares down into my face. “And, Sloane, you must promise that you’ll never breathe a word of this to anyone. Swear it.” His voice sounds deep and dusky.
“Hayden, I would never.” I squeeze his hands. “Seriously, who would I tell? They’d just think I was rockin’ the crazy pants and shove me in a padded cell.”
He releases my hands and scoots back. His gaze far away and distant now. “Or worse.”
“What’s worse than that?”
He’s silent for a moment, and then says bleakly, “Let’s not worry about it.”
“Why? Do you think those Sector Thirteen guys will lock me up somewhere if I tried to tell people the truth?”
He shrugs and turns away. “Who knows?”
“I guess if other people found out about the hybrids, Zetas, and Sector thirteen, and actually believed it, they’d want to study you guys or perform some type of horrible tests. And they might even...”
“Kill us.”
There is a long moment of silence. Then without a word, he tugs on my hands to help me up, and we walk along the shore in quiet contemplation. My mind races, struggling with the emotional nuke Hayden has just laid on me. No wonder it was so hard for him to tell me the truth about himself before now. He was probably worried that I would to treat him like some kind of freak.
With my hands stuffed in my pockets and my silence, God only knows what he’s thinking. I’m not exactly being super supportive. But then again, how does one act after being told by the guy you’re crushing on that he’s an ongoing experiment? Just a lab rat in some alien versus human SyFy nightmare?
Reality check. All those years I sat in science classes listening to teachers drone on about how life cannot possibly exist on other planets, and now Hayden’s telling me it’s true. It’s so bizarre. And what Sector Thirteen did to those poor men pisses me off.
I clear my throat. “Um, I have a few more questions about your family. Did your grandparents just volunteer their own offspring for this experiment, and then just doom them into hiding? Because that just sucks.”
“No…my great grandfather didn’t uncover the truth until his children were already grown and their abilities were emerging. That’s when Sector Thirteen approached the men and laid down the law, I guess. My great grandparents agreed with the terms, and they eventually decided to get on board with the project. They were changing history and creating a superior race of humans funded by the government. It’s not like they were hurting anyone.”
“I know, but still...”
“Yeah, it’s bizarre.” He runs a hand through his hair. “But to sweeten the deal, Sector Thirteen offered each family wealth and power. Hard to resist. Most of the adults are in high-ranking positions or CEOs of multimillion dollar corporations. And all they had to do was keep procreating, and of course, not tell anyone or expose their powers.”
“And your folks?”
“They’re both hybrids, and like many pure blood races, they have no desire to dilute the bloodline.” He scratches his cheek. “I honestly think...well, they like being part of an advanced species. An evolved human. It’s one of the main reasons we’re not allowed to date outside our race.”
Well, that bites.
“Really? No dating humans? Like ever?”
He nods and looks miserable. Tired and haggard and troubled. We both become still and silent, caught in a boundless trance as if every forbidden second we’ve shared together has formed an unbreakable chain around us. For a moment, neither of us says anything. Then his expression becomes resolved and the emotion gone. In its place is an impassive barrier.
“Nope,” he says. “Humans are usually considered strictly off-limits by the Galactic Brotherhood.”
Wow. Things just keep getting stranger. My heart contracts painfully, and I allow myself a moment of selfishness. But what about me? Where do we go from here? And then I let it go. Because he’s right. It’s dangerous for us to date now. The hybrids can steal my memories wi
th some scary electromagnetic gizmo that can even make me go insane. But being around Hayden and not being able to touch him or date him is going to drive me crazy enough.
So there it is. I’m not going to yearn or whine or wish things could be different. I’m going to be strong. For me, for Hayden, and for hybrids everywhere.
Just as I worry that my poor brain is about to explode more questions pop into my head.
“Do you think the Zetas are planning on coming back?” I ask. “To live here, or return to wipe us out and take over?”
“Doubtful.” He frowns. “Sloane, relax. They’re long gone.”
At least there’s some good news in this strange, gloomy tale.
My gaze wanders back to the ocean. “Hayden, it doesn’t matter to me anymore what you are. You’re a good person and you saved my life.”
Hayden takes my hand and squeezes it, running his thumb across the backside. The electric charge zapping beneath my skin, under the gentle pressure from his thumb, fires into my blood stream and heats everything in its path. I instantly sense that familiar pull, and sigh. So much for trying to be strong.
He looks from my face to our touching hands. “You must have more questions.”
“I do. How did your uncle help you? What did he do?”
He rolls his shoulders, cracking his neck before answering. “The Zetas left us with some intergalactic technology and powerful medications that my uncle is using to heal me. These meds contain only natural energy, which we can use to speed our body’s healing process.”
“But that doesn’t explain why you couldn’t go to a regular hospital and be treated.”
“If the doctors were to take any blood samples, they’d realize rather quickly that I wasn’t entirely human. It would only cause massive confusion and a lot of questions…then of course, a massive mind-wiping of all the medical staff,” he says solemnly. “I knew it was much safer if I went to my brother and uncle for help. Our advanced technology is far superior to modern medicine, anyway.”
I nod. “One of my relatives, Lauren is really into Wicca and she has lots of crystals around her house, which she claims have healing powers. But she’s sort of cracked.” I smile and add, “She once told me that if I was ever asked to sign a contract or make a deal, and I’m experiencing any doubts, then I should sign my neighbor’s name. Apparently, malevolent entities rarely ask for photo ID.”
Hayden laughs. “She sounds like an interesting person.”
I roll my eyes. “Oh, yeah. I’ve got some really weird relatives in Fallen Oaks.” I lace our fingers. “Oh, man, I’m totally babbling. Sorry, I’m just still trying to wrap my head around all this crazy stuff.” I squeeze his fingers. “Don’t worry, I’m not running away.”
He untangles our fingers. “All my family has ever done is run or hide, so you’ll have to be patient with me.”
The pain reflected in his voice and lingering in his eyes makes me decide to change the subject.
“So, what are your special abilities? Does everyone in your family have them?” I ask.
“Yes, everyone in my family has enhanced intelligence, the use of ferrokinesis, and we can teleport. But the farther we travel, the more energy it uses,” he explains. “Sometimes it leaves me drained for hours.”
“I knew it!” I pump a fist in the air. “That’s how you saved the puppy and bent the fork, right?”
“Yes, I teleported to save the dog, and my emotions are tied to my powers, like my ability to manipulate iron and other metals,” he says quietly, his expression uncertain. “You’re taking this much better than I thought you would.”
“And that’s a bad thing? It beats thinking I’m crazy—trust me.”
He half-smiles, and before he can answer, his cell buzzes in his pocket. He checks the screen. “It’s my uncle. I’m sorry, Sloane, but I have to go back to his house. I’m still weak and he wants to do more treatments. My parents don’t know about the accident and I’d like to keep it that way.”
Translation: My parents don’t know about you either and I’d like to keep it that way
My shoulders droop and I chew on a strand of hair. “Already?”
“Yeah, I’m still kind of banged up. I broke two ribs and my arm, and although, I’m healing fairly quickly, I still need more medical attention.”
I nod. “It’s fine, go heal yourself.”
He hugs me and whispers, “Thank you for saving my life.”
“Thanks for saving mine.”
Hayden cradles his ribs, still nursing the wound. “You going to Diego Velazquez’s party next weekend?”
Parties have never really been my thing. It’s all the drunk drama, shameless hookups, and vomit minefields.
I stand and dust the sand from my jeans. “Wasn’t planning on it. Why?”
Standing, he looks past me at the ocean. “It might be fun. Do you want to go together?”
My forehead wrinkles in confusion. “You mean, like a date?”
He stiffens. “Yeah, Sloane. When a guy asks a girl to go with him somewhere it usually means he’s asking her out.”
A rush of euphoria sweeps throughout my body. Not even alien genes will get between me and this hot boy.
My cheeks burn. “Oh. Okay, then yes.”
“Good. I’ll pick you up at nine.” Hayden’s entire body relaxes, and when he looks at me, his eyes are bright, fervent.
The blush spreads to my neck. “Um, Hayden?”
He frowns. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing…I just thought we couldn’t be more than friends.”
“Who said I liked playing by the rules?”
FRIGHT NIGHT BABBLE
Welcome, Snarklings!
Today’s editorial is about movie clichés on the use of firearms that make me wanna choke someone.
Nail guns being used like machine guns. So lame!
In a society of gun users, there never seems to be any weapons around when the killer is approaching. Dumb!
Why do guns always seem to hold over fifty rounds of amino, and never need to be reloaded? Yeah, right.
And why does the gun always jam or stop working as soon as the killer/zombie/demon arrives? Eye-roll worthy.
And the worst offender, why do the characters toss aside their firearms when they run out of ammo? Why not hold on to it and look for more bullets? Yeah, not too bright.
Peace, love, and horror flicks,
Zombie Queen aka Sloane
THIRTEEN
Later that evening, after hearing Hayden’s mind-blowing confession, I mentally crash hard. Exhaustion sets in and my head feels like someone has poured a tub of concrete over it. But as I snuggle in bed with Jinx and absentmindedly stroke his fur, endless questions pop into my mind. Stuff like…
How am I going to keep Hayden’s secret from my friends? Have I ever sat next to a hybrid in a movie theater or stood behind one in line at Hot Topic? How many of his kind are there in the Bay Area? In the entire state? And the most immediate concern, why had I agreed to go to the party with him?
Thinking about everything makes my brain freeze up, like a computer trying to download a file that’s way too big.
I sit up and grab my laptop from the desk. Placing the sleek machine on my lap, I power it on, then Google—what else? Aliens. UFOs. And Zetas.
My first search brings up horror movies starring the brilliant Sigourney Weaver and some of the best science fiction films ever made. Next, I read Wikipedia’s data on alien races, but it’s information overload. The website does state that various scientists consider extraterrestrial life plausible, but there’s no direct evidence of their existence. Ha! There are also images of little green men with large heads and big black eyes. So lame.
When I type in UFOs, I get a zillion hits. And a freakin’ ton of conspiracy theories pop up. I try to sift through them before finally giving up on trying to figure out what’s truth and what is most likely fiction.
Placing my laptop on the bed, I get up to pace. This i
s just too many shades of crazy. Seizing my Hello Kitty notebook from my purse, I jot down some notes on what I’ve uncovered so far, trying to make sense of it.
Hayden and his entire family are half-alien. Zeta hybrids are real. Government conspiracies abound. Sector Thirteen: good guys or bad? Galactic Brotherhood: definitely dangerous.
After I add a few web addresses from the sites I found for future reference, I put the notebook away. The room feels stuffy, so I open a window. A chilly wind strokes my flushed skin and somewhat clears my head.
“Sloane!” my brother yells from the bottom of the attic stairwell. “Phone for you.”
Weird. No one ever calls me on the landline.
I trudge downstairs and pick up the cordless phone resting on a table in the hallway. “Hello?”
Static crackles through the line.
“Hello?” I repeat.
The line goes dead. I shudder, but my hands are clammy. I wipe them on my shirt. What if someone’s checking to see if I’m home?
Frowning, I hang up the phone and go back to my room to continue my research. I watch some odd footage of UFO sightings on YouTube, and then look up the Zetas. I check out a “conspiracy” site entitled, Alien Species from A to Z that asserts the Zetas are also referred to as the Grey Aliens or The Greys. The website even claims to have knowledge of the hybrids, which have been born with a percentage of Zeta genetics.
Guess I’m not the only human to find out about extraterrestrials and their crossbreeds. Other humans have discovered the truth. This website proves it, but obviously, no one actually believes it.
I scroll further down the page. The website states that Zetas don’t look human. They have dark gray skin and huge heads, and although they appear humanoid, they have reptilian features (ick), some have huge warts (gag) and most have large black eyes (creepy). Thank goodness, when the Zetas did the DNA splicing they left out the ugly genes.
Somehow, I don’t think lizard genetics and human DNA equal hot guys like Zach and Hayden. So I just nix the whole lame reptile BS. I try sifting through all the Zeta stuff, but my brain cells are fried. Enough with the alien studies.
