by Kody Boye
Rather than say anything, I merely shook my head and said, “It’s fine. I’m just… tired, is all.”
“Are you getting sick?”
“I don’t know.”
“Have you seen a doctor?”
“I have.”
“I… I know you were bitten by a Coyote,” the girl said, looking down at my bandaged arm, then back up at my face. “I mean, it’s obvious that something happened to you, given the way your eye is almost completely gold now, but I didn’t want to pry.”
“It happened while I was on a patrol with two of my friends,” I said, gesturing Mary-Anne to lead me up the hall and back to the rooms where the soldiers were housed close to the entrance of the building. “A Coyote came out of nowhere and just attacked me.”
“Ferals killed my dad too,” the girl said, a sigh escaping her lips and the inklings of tears developing in her eyes. “Just a few years ago too.”
“Me and my best friend lost our families after Fort Hope fell.”
“I’m sorry,” the girl said, sniffling and then reaching up to wipe tears from her eyes. “I’m just thinking about all the bad that’s happening in the world and realizing how lucky I have it here.”
“You don’t have to apologize,” I said, then reached out and touched her shoulder.
She tensed—much like Jason had the first time I’d touched him—and shied away, but not abruptly or with disdain. Rather, she turned to face me and offered a smile through her tear-stricken exterior and said, “Thank you. It’s just hard, you know? Going through life, not knowing what’s going to happen next.”
“I know,” I said. “I understand completely.”
We came upon my room and paused outside the glass window that looked into it. Here, I considered my surroundings, my place in the world, and the potential future I had within Burgundy Hospital. During this time, I wondered, for one brief moment, if it was really worth staying here—if Asha, incarcerated, would ever be freed, and if Mary-Anne, a seemingly-blossoming friendship, would be enough to hold me to a politically-crooked place.
I knew we couldn’t leave. I knew I wouldn’t get Asha out in time to make a quick getaway. And I knew that our chances out in the wilds of Austin, let alone beyond, were slim to none.
With a sigh, and with a heavier heart I could’ve ever imagined having, I bade Mary-Anne goodbye and slipped into my room, all the while wondering just how I would fake my way out of guard duty come tonight.
“Berrios,” I heard Captain Sin say. “You’re late for guard duty.”
“Huh?” I asked, jerking, then forcing a groan as I reached up to press a hand against my head. “What’d you just say?”
“I said,” the Captain stressed, “you’re late for guard duty.”
“I think I’m sick.”
“With what?”
“Vertigo.”
The captain considered me for a moment before gesturing me to stand. “Up,” he said.
At first I panicked, wondering how I would continue the ruse now that I was no longer bound to the bed and looking as pathetic as I absolutely could. Then, as I stood, and as I began to shift unsteadily on my feet, I took into consideration the importance of what I needed to do and decided I had to do something drastic.
I stepped forward, feigning approach, then fell.
I hit the ground hard enough to jar my ribcage and force the breath out of my lungs.
“Berrios!” Captain Sin cried, falling to his knees. “Berrios! Are you all right?”
“Diz-zy,” I managed as I struggled to regain my breath.
The captain hoisted me up under my arms and helped me back into bed, then parted my hair from my brow and pressed a hand against my temple. “You don’t have a temperature,” he said with a frown, “but you are sweating.”
Only because I was scared out of my freaking mind that he would see through my ruse.
I nodded, rolled onto my side, and groaned as I pretended the room moved with the effort.
“I’ll go get the nurse,” he said, then turned and began to make his way toward the door.
“Sir,” I said, then stopped, unsure if this next part would give me away or if it would only solidify my case. “That’s not necessary.”
“No?” the man frowned.
I focused my attention on him while trying to allow my eyes to move freely about the room, then said, with as much pity in my voice as possible, “It won’t do me any good. The anti-nausea pills never worked for me.”
He considered me for several long moments, and for a moment I thought he’d seen through my ruse and was about to bust me for faking sick. When he didn’t, however, and when a sigh passed from his lips, he simply said, “Get some rest, Berrios” and walked out the door.
I waited—anticipating his reappearance, dreading potentially seeing Doctor Kelly or Taylor McKinney, and forced my eyes shut to fake rest as I heard his footsteps echo down the hallway.
Seconds passed, then minutes—uncounted moments when someone, anyone, could come in and check in on me.
When no one did, however, and when I felt as though I were safe from potential persecution, I rolled out of bed and made my way to the glass window, where I pulled the curtain over its fixtures and let loose a sigh for the ages.
Now that the worst of my problems was out of the way, I only had one thing left to do:
Wait.
I waited for what seemed like hours, during which time I watched the Coyotes migrate in the streets and the men and women below consider Them in the darkness. During this time, the full moon rose, shifted over the horizon, began to fall. It was only when I felt myself beginning to nod off that I realized that now would be better than never and I turned to face the doorway.
I could get in serious trouble for what I was about to do. Faking sick, skipping guard duty, sneaking around the halls at night, cavorting with prisoners.
I swallowed the lump in my throat in preparation for what I was about to do before reaching forward and taking hold of the doorknob.
It turned without resistance.
I let myself out into the hall, stole a glance down both sides, then began to make my way through the narrow passages and toward the room where Asha was housed.
As I’d expected, there were no guards at this hour of the night, no patrols to keep watch on what was going on. The security cameras—long dead from lack of proper power—were haunting in that they seemed to watch me, to judge me, to consider my every move. I briefly toyed with the notion that they were actually on, then shook it off as I continued down the hall and toward the room where Asha was housed.
As I’d expected, no one was keeping guard outside her quarters.
After making my own to the L-junction at the end of the hall and peeking around the corner to ensure that no one was coming, I ran forward, knocked on the door sharply three times, and then said, “Asha. Asha!”
Movement shifted inside the room. Shortly thereafter, Asha’s tired face appeared behind the panel of glass separating us. “Ana Mia?” she asked, reaching up to rub her face. “What’re you doing here?”
“I need to talk to you,” I said.
“About what?” Asha craned her head as far as she could to look down the hall to my left. “You could get in trouble for this.”
“For what? Seeing my best friend?” I shook my head in the hopes that it would dispel her fears and sighed as the tension in my chest began to wrap around my heart once more.
“So,” Asha began, drawing the word out in an effort to pull my attention back to her. “What did you want to talk about?”
“About what happened in the Harvester ship,” I said.
“What?” Asha asked. “What’re you talking about, Mia? The Harvester ship?”
I quickly explained the wretched deal of mine and Dubois; then my ascent into the Harvester ship. When I detailed how I was first taken hostage by a Coyote, then secured in a small chrome room, shock and awe lit Asha’s face and horror painted her mouth in a frown.
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By the time I finished, Asha’s lips were pale, her eyes wide and mouth agape. “Ana,” she said. “What’re you—”
“I don’t know what’s going to happen,” I continued, reaching up to press a hand against the glass, “but I just wanted to let you know that I’m going to do whatever it takes to get you out of here, no matter what.”
“You can’t go back up in that ship.”
“I’ll do what I need to do, Asha.”
“But you… you…”
I shook my head.
The tears in Asha’s eyes were enough to confirm that I’d struck a chord—one that would not easily be mended regardless of whatever it was I’d have to do to protect her.
“I love you so much,” I said, tears streaming down my face. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you’re safe.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“I’ve gotta go,” I said, taking a few steps back and casting a quick glance back down the hall. “Be safe, all right? And whatever you do: don’t try and escape. They’ll let you out eventually. I just have to keep doing what they tell me to.”
“All right,” Asha replied. “Goodbye, Ana Mia.”
“Goodbye, Asha.”
With that, I turned and walked down the hall, all the while dreading what was likely to come tomorrow.
Chapter 4
It was decided that I was to make contact again the following morning.
“Again?” I asked as I sat before Commander Dubois in her plain white medical office. “Why again?”
“Because we need to see what Their demands are,” the commander replied as she crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “We need them laid out to us in a fashion that we can easily understand. None of this ‘comply or be destroyed’ nonsense. We need to know exactly what They want.”
“And what do you expect to do if Their demands are too outrageous?”
It was something that had constantly been on my mind since I’d been Harvested—something that, regardless of its implications, had haunted me day in and day out. Always I wondered what exactly it was They would want, what They meant when They meant ‘comply,’ how They would ‘destroy’ if They meant to lay siege to us. It was obvious They wanted the planet—that much was for certain. But the baggage that came attached to it? As the dominant species, we had covered so much of the planet’s surface—had altered, made barren or revitalized the lands upon which we walked or didn’t. Our cities crisscrossed the Earth as if they were marbles that had been tossed in a lone blue pool—and had, before the invasion began, been able to be seen from space. So what would They do once the invasion really, truly began? Would They simply lay them to waste, or would we simply become part of the past while They sought fit to assimilate into the future?
I couldn’t know. I wouldn’t know unless I spoke to Them again. Which was why, in staring at Commander Dubois, I knew she was right.
“You’re right,” I then said, conceding defeat when I knew it would be no use to argue further. “You’re absolutely, one-hundred percent right.”
“So you agree then? You’ll do as I ask?”
“On one condition,” I said, then leaned forward in my seat so I could face the commander’s stone-cold eyes. “You stop holding Asha as a prisoner and allow her to join the civilian population or the armed militia.”
“Why would we put a gun in the hands of an individual whom we have kept incarcerated?” the commander laughed. “Are you out of your mind?”
“I’m asking you to do this because of everything I’m risking. We don’t know if I’ll come back from the Harvester ship a second time.”
“And you think I’ll… what? Just cave to your demands?”
“No freedom for Asha, no exchange of ideas on the ship.”
The commander contemplated this scenario for several long moments before she finally said, “All right. I agree to your terms, so long as you continue to do as I ask and comply with any future instructions.”
“It’s not as if I have any choice,” I mumbled.
“None of us have a choice any more, Ana Mia. All we have now are options, some of which are not as favorable as others.”
“So when do we want to do this?” I asked, leaning back in my seat.
“Tonight,” the commander replied, leaning back in her seat. “The sooner we know what They want, the sooner I can report to headquarters so they can decide what will be the best course of action.”
“What will you have me do?”
“I will prepare a list of questions that I would like to be asked. You will then propose these to the invaders and then dictate Their answers back into a recording device like this.” The commander placed a small black recorder on the desk and slid it over for my inspection. “This will ensure that we have the most accurate responses possible.”
“All right.” I took hold of the recorder and lifted it before my eyes. When I deemed it fit to be held within the palm of my hand, I nodded, then slid it back across the desk to her. Afterward, I stood, turned, and began to make my way toward the door, but not before stopping and turning to examine the commander.
In her eyes lay a fearsome malice I had never seen before. And while I knew it wasn’t entirely directed at me, it scared me all the same.
“You’re what?” Asha asked.
“I’m going back up into the ship,” I replied, sliding my hands into my pockets to keep from fidgeting with my shirt.
“You’ve got to be kidding me, Ana Mia.”
“You’re going to be free,” I offered.
“But at what cost?” she countered. “Your safety? Your wellbeing? Your sanity?”
“I have to do this,” I said, removing my hands from my pockets and balling them into fists. I struggled to grasp at my emotions as they threatened to bubble toward the surface and found myself trembling in spite of it all. Hopefully Asha took it as a sign of rage and not fear—because at least if she thought I was incensed, she wouldn’t believe I was scared out of my mind, even though the truth happened to be that I was.
I couldn’t falter, not in front of the girl I cared about so much.
In the lapse of silence that followed, Asha sighed and reached up to cup her face with her hands as she leaned forward to face me. “Ana Mia,” she said with a defeated voice, her eyes morose and her face scarred by a frown. “I wish you wouldn’t do this.”
“But I have to. For you.”
“I mean… it’s not like I’m completely miserable in here,” Asha offered, obviously trying to plead what she believed to be her better judgment with me. “I have running water, clean sheets, food and entertainment delivered.”
“You were trying to play Rapunzel down the side of the building, Asha.”
“I know, but… still…” Asha lowered her gaze. When she realized that nothing she could say would sway me in the matter at hand, she exhaled, lifted her eyes, then said, “I’m sorry you’re having to do this for me.”
“Don’t be sorry,” I replied. “I’d do anything for you. You know that, right?”
“I do,” Asha said.
I forced a smile regardless of the implications at hand and reached out to press my hand against the glass.
When Asha pressed her hand on the glass opposite me, I swore I could see tears in her eyes.
“Good luck,” she said, obviously trying her hardest to keep from crying but failing miserably at that. “I’ll pray for you.”
Prayer.
It was the one thing I’d neglected to do throughout this entire trip.
I wondered, at that moment, whether God was really watching, and if He was, what He potentially had in store for me.
The list of questions I would pose to the alien Overseers were simple and to the point.
The first question was: What do you want in exchange for peace?
The second question read: What will happen once we agree to peace?
And the third and last, but certainly not least, questioned, How will you assimilate in
to the Earth’s population once you descend from your ships?
The last, but most chilling question was the one that set my nerves on fire—that made me feel small in comparison in the world around me when looking at the simple typewritten words upon an old sheet of yellowing paper. It felt brittle—ready to tear at any moment—and though I knew there were powers in the words I’d just read, I couldn’t help but feel as though they would crumble.
“She never said this would be easy,” I mumbled to myself as I folded, then inserted the piece of paper into my pants pocket for easy access.
I stared at my reflection in the mirror—at the bright orange clothing and the vest affixed with LED lights—and dreaded what the night would bring. Near dark, with the sun just barely hovering over the horizon, it promised a reckoning I would not soon forget.
I knew They wouldn’t kill me. That much was already for certain. But I knew They could traumatize me to the point where I would be useless except for one thing.
Contact.
I swallowed the nervous lump developing in my throat and reached for the bottle of water sitting on the sink, sipping softly at first and then with more gusto. Once I’d drained half the bottle, I returned it to its place on the lip of the sink and then turned and made my way back into my room, where I looked outside at the urban plane of Austin, Texas and tried to determine what would occur within the next several hours.
Would there be peace, I wondered? And if peace were proposed, would it even be possible after everything that we’d gone through? We’d made peace with Japan after Pearl Harbor, then Germany after World War II and Hitler, so it wasn’t completely out of the question. But this… this was unprecedented, and on a scale unlike anything that had ever been seen.
This wasn’t just two countries at war—it was two worlds.
With a sigh, I reached up to run my hands through my short, untamed hair and jumped when I heard a knock at the door. “Ana Mia Sofia Berrios,” a soldier whose voice was distorted by one of the electronic devices said. “You are to report to the lobby as soon as possible.”
“Understood,” I said.
