by Kody Boye
“Grayson?” I asked, feeling the alien’s familiar presence branch out against mine.
“We’ve come to speak with your leader,” the alien replied.
Children screamed.
Women cried.
Men unarmed but otherwise furious balled their hands into fists as the alien raised the kerchief in surrender.
Dubois drew forward, then, and stared directly at the creature standing before her. “What do you want?” she asked. “Why come now, in the midst of celebration?”
“We are to begin the process of assimilation,” Grayson replied.
I merely stared.
Was this it then? The beginning?
I didn’t know.
All I knew was that Dubois turned and, with a wave of her hand, gestured the alien to follow.
Flanked by soldiers on all sides, they disappeared down the hall—leaving me, and the rest of the population, to look on in sad awe.
Halloween had been ruined.
I could barely stomach the thought.
Many of the people in attendance departed following Grayson’s arrival. Children were escorted away, mothers and fathers arguing beneath their breaths. Pastries and goods that were supposed to have been served throughout the night were left to spoil in the open as somewhere deep inside the building the commander of Burgundy Hospital and the Gray alien general known as Grayson conversed about the matters of assimilation.
“Well,” Mary-Anne said. “This sucks.”
“Yeah,” I replied with a sigh. “It does.”
“All our hard work. Ruined.”
“Are you ok?” I asked.
“I’m fine,” the girl replied, lifting her eyes from a sheet of cookies to look at me. Her face was pale even beneath the makeup, her gaze frantic in that it looked for purchase upon my features. “It’s just… that was the first one I’d ever seen. They’re… unnerving, to say the least.”
I nodded, tempted to reach out and touch her shoulder but unsure if I should. “So,” I decided to say instead, drawing the word out to draw her attention. “Should we start cleaning all of this up, or…”
“It’s just… this was supposed to be our night,” the girl said. “Our Halloween. Then that… thing… ruined it.”
“I know,” I sighed, rounding the receptionist’s counter with her. “But we knew this was going to happen eventually.”
“Did we?” Mary-Anne asked. “Because if we did, I never got the memo.”
I decided to remain silent at that moment and instead began the process of cleaning the lobby up—first by arranging the pastries and other snacks into plastic containers, then by placing the gift baskets in their stead. We then began to blow out the candles, one by one, until the only light that remained in the lobby was that streaming from the floodlights aimed outside the facility.
About this time, I heard footsteps approaching—and watched, from a distance, as Asha appeared in the threshold. “Ana Mia?” she asked. “Did the alien—”
“Already come? Yeah. It did.”
She considered the scene before her—how, once lively, it appeared as a ghost town—before setting her eyes on Mary-Anne and me. “I tried to stop it,” she said. “I really did. It just… wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
“I know you did,” I replied, reaching forward to set a hand on her shoulder. “Go ahead and go back to work. I’m going to help Mary-Anne finish up here and then go to bed.”
“Long day?” my friend asked. I only nodded in response. “Okay,” she then said, turning to face the doorway. “And Ana?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t do more for you and Mary-Anne.”
I didn’t respond as my friend walked out the front doors.
With a sigh, I turned to face Mary-Anne and found that she’d been watching—and staring—the entire time. “Everything okay?” I asked.
“Other than me being seething mad?” the girl replied. “Yeah. Everything’s ok.”
“We can do the event tomorrow,” I said. “Pass out the baskets to the kids in the morning, distribute the snacks at breakfast. I’ll help you. I promise.”
“It won’t be the same,” Mary-Anne sighed. “It’ll be November first. Then all everyone will think of is turkey.”
With a sad, unfortunate nod, I stepped forward and began to help her pick up the chairs we’d upended for dramatic effect and pulled the spiderwebbing from their fixtures, all the while wondering just what Dubois would be discussing with Grayson now that it had come to Burgundy Hospital.
Chapter 17
I prepared for bed that night with the distinct knowledge that there was an alien visitor amongst us. I washed the vampire makeup off my face, brushed my quickly-lengthening but ragged hair, stripped out of the black clothing I’d worn as a tribute to Halloween and changed into a pair of loose-fitting sweats and a T-shirt before crawling into bed—where, there, I stared out the window and at the snow falling upon the city.
How could something so peaceful, so tranquil, so joyous, have been ruined so quickly?
“And all by one person,” I mumbled.
I knew I should have expected this. It was bound to have happened eventually. The Grays needed to descend—to build a world in which both humanity and Graykind could thrive. But did it have to happen on a day when the children were out en masse, celebrating a day that should have been, for all intents and purposes, normal? That was a cruel and unusual punishment, especially if the alien knew we celebrated holidays such as this one.
In thinking about it, though—and in realizing the complications on the matter—maybe it was better for the children to have seen one of the Grays in the light that it’d be in. They’d soon be walking the streets, sowing Their seeds, rebuilding the world, and for that reason They would become visible. They weren’t exactly the most terrifying creatures—unlike the Coyotes or even the Serpents—but They were still a sight to behold.
I sighed.
If Grayson was meeting with the local military dispatchment—and was, like I imagined, setting up delegations in regards to Their arrival—They would soon be on the ground; or, at the very least, in the skies above the city. What would They do first, I wondered? Would They strip the area of its natural resources—of its metals and rocks and other inorganic compounds—or would They simply lay to waste everything and start from scratch?
I didn’t know. I possibly wasn’t supposed to know. But given my position within the hospital’s hierarchy—and that I had previously convened with the Grays on several occasions—I would most likely know soon enough.
In thinking that, and in wondering just what was to occur within the coming days, an idea struck me—one that bordered on treason in thought alone.
Could I, if I truly wished to, reach out and touch Grayson’s mind—to comprehend, or at least attempt to comprehend, the logistics of what was to happen?
Unable to know unless I tried, I closed my eyes to block out the world, then began to extend my consciousness into the great ether of darkness.
At first I felt nothing, given that there were no aliens around to be felt. Eventually, however, an inkling of thought came to my mind—one that eventually translated into pure thoughts and then, eventually, words.
We will begin our descent from the upper atmosphere tomorrow, was the first thing I heard Grayson say.
We will then begin our modifications of the city, it then added.
It told, in lesser and plainer detail, that alarms would be sounded—that the skies would open and from bellowing trumpets a warning would be issued: to leave the designated sections of the city or else potentially be killed by the deconstruction processes that were to take place. It said that there would be a multitude of ships unlike anything humanity had ever seen, and that it was likely to cause a great panic. But, Grayson then assured Dubois, it would not be without reason. Areas too dilapidated or run down to be repurposed would be completely leveled and then rebuilt from the ground up, though in Their current
technological state, would not occur immediately. They would ferry supplies down from the ship, set up camps for the Grays to reside within, and, eventually, begin to branch out into the wider world—repairing what They saw fit, destroying what They didn’t.
The entire time I listened to this conversation I felt an inkling of awareness about me—like the feeling that someone is watching you or is at least aware that you are listening in on their conversation. Grayson, whether it realized it was me or not, did not refuse me entry, and instead opened its consciousness to grandiose plans of the future—of towering skyscrapers in which thousands of people could live, where food was grown along their scopes and energy was harvested through their windows. Downtown would be completely reborn, and though I was not privy to the inner workings of said machinations, was stunned all the same.
By the time I withdrew from Grayson’s consciousness, I felt dizzy, and on the verge of throwing up. Somehow, though, I was able to keep my stomach from twisting into knots and instead flopped onto my belly—feeling, at least in part, that I’d accomplished something.
So—it was to begin: phase three of Their assimilation.
First They had Come.
Then They had Saw.
Now They would Fall.
The idea that the world was about to change—and for hopefully the better—was enough to inspire both fear and wonder within my mind.
I fell asleep that night dreaming of the future—of the potential Utopia that could arise in the old world’s stead or the enormous chaos that would come as a result of it.
The dreams were lovely.
The nightmares I could’ve dealt without.
“You said this was going to happen today?” Asha asked.
“Yeah,” I nodded. “I did.”
From our place atop the roof, whereupon we stood looking at the downtown area, we stood awaiting the Harvester ships that Grayson said were to come and watched the skyline with bated breath. Nervous, now, that I was soon to bear witness to the next phase of Their plan, I crossed my arms beneath my breasts and fidgeted with the sides of my shirt in an effort to keep my nerves from getting the best of me, but to no avail. My thoughts were running a million miles per second, my heart almost just the same. Asha, meanwhile, seemed complacent—more interested than anything, and far calmer than I could’ve ever anticipated being.
“Aren’t you nervous?” I asked.
“Why?” Asha replied. “It’s not like They’re going to come down in one grand swoop, are They?”
I didn’t know. I was only privy to what little knowledge Grayson had imparted—that the Harvester ships, and those others that would descend along with Them, would fall, then sound trumpets into the sky to warn those of what was to occur. Hopefully there were no more people in the downtown area, and if there were, I prayed that They would take the warning seriously and make Their way to the outer edges of the city. There didn’t need to be any senseless deaths, not when the Grays were no longer truly hunting us.
Asha, her teeth sinking into her lower lip, slipped her hands into her pockets and considered the world before her. She no longer appeared interested or impressed. “Ana Mia,” he said. “I thought you said—”
“I did!” I replied.
“Then where are all the ships you said were going to—”
We saw Them, then—first as minuscule dots upon the horizon, like stars falling from the Heavens, then in more definitive detail. Many of Them were the Harvester ships we had come to know—the sleek, circular and chrome-like fixtures that had inhabited our skies and nightmares for years in past. Others appeared more like insects—praying manti, specifically: with extending metal arms which flexed in anticipation for what was to come next. As They descended toward the downtown area—which I imagined would soon be alight with activity—I drew closer to Asha and reached down to take her hand, wrapping my fingers within hers and pressing our palms tightly together.
We were to bear witness to the next stage of human history. Glorious as that thought was, it was also incredibly terrifying.
From the skies above Austin, Texas They beckoned, through trumpeting alarms, Their coming. The noise reverberated across the sky like an instrument played by a forgotten God and brought from the outside of the hospital to the inside from the stairwell people of all creeds and colors. They came to stand beside Asha and myself, then look toward the downtown area, as the trumpeting sounds turned to projections—proclaiming, in but a few short words, to evacuate the area.
This is not a drill, the voice of a Gray alien sounded. Repeat: this is not a drill. Remove yourselves from this proximity in anticipation for deconstruction.
Great lights began to shine on those ships that looked like praying manti. In shades of red they heated to orange, then from orange to blue and eventually white. Then they began to fire, and in place of buildings there became nothing but rubble. Dust rose into the air as a skyscraper was systematically deconstructed from the top down, then came to buffet us a short moment later. Most coughed, many sneezed. Several retreated back into the building. I, meanwhile, could only stare.
I distinctly thought that this was it—the grand finale, the final hurrah, the last moment in which humanity would be without Them among us. Soon, They would descend; and soon, They would walk alongside mankind.
The thought was enough to inspire tears in my eyes—both out of awe for what was occurring and fear for the possibilities that the future might hold. I tightened my grip on Asha’s hand to ground myself to the world at my feet and watched as more ships began to fall, listened as more trumpets began to sound, wept as a world I once knew was forever changed.
Can you believe it? one person asked.
No, another responded. I can’t.
They’re destroying the city.
Building it anew.
Preparing Themselves for cohabitation.
Most of these words were met with sighs, likely both good and bad, and in the moments that occurred thereafter I wondered what the next phase was: how, in a short amount of time, camps would be established and supplies requisitioned from humanity’s military to prepare those who were not Their working force for life on Earth.
Would the military be willing to oblige the Grays willingly and without argument?
Unable to know, and with the knowledge that I would likely not be amongst Them, I continued to watch the world change before me—and felt, within my heart, the dying embers of my old life fading away.
Knowing that she was likely to be summoned by Dubois to assist in the humanitarian efforts that were to soon occur upon Austin soil, Asha led me from the roof and down to the lobby where a number of soldiers had already begun to congregate. Most were arming up willingly and preparing, for lack of a better term, for the next invasion. One soldier, however, wasn’t having it.
“You think I’m going to help Them?” the man asked, jabbing his finger outside—where a Harvester ship could just briefly be seen gliding across the horizon. “They killed my partner, destroyed my city. Do you just expect me to stand back and—”
“I expect you to do as you’re told,” Dubois said, staring at the Latino soldier head-on and with eyes that could have bore holes through steel. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“I understand what you’re saying, ma’am, but just because you tell me to do something doesn’t mean that I’m—”
Dubois drew a gun before the man could finish and pointed it directly at him.
Everyone, including myself and Asha, went silent.
“Now,” Dubois said, stepping forward, gun still aimed directly at the soldier’s chest. “You think I’m joking when I tell you what to do? Huh?” She jabbed the gun into his chest with a hard shove before pulling it back and aiming it at him again, her finger dangerously near the trigger. “I said: You will arm up and prepare to assist in the humanitarian efforts. Do you understand?”
“I-I-I,” the soldier stuttered, “I uh-uh-under—”
Dubois slid the gun bac
k into the holster at her side and turned when she saw Asha and I out of her peripheral. “Ah,” she said, then approached with a speed I found almost supernatural. “Two capable women that I can depend upon.”
“Ma’am,” I said, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Are you—”
“In need of extra hands? Yes. Since some people appear to have problems following orders,” the woman growled, casting a harrowing glance toward the Latino soldier, who merely slumped into the crowd before Dubois could say anything further. “Arm up, Berrios. I want you to help with the humanitarian efforts. Your boots on the ground will be a welcome addition.”
I merely stared at the woman, unable to believe what she’d said.
Did she mean it? Did she really, truly mean it? After everything that she’d said and done to me over the past several days?
“MOVE!” the woman screamed.
I scrambled to make my way over to the armory, then into a set of body armor. I hesitated when a soldier handed me a rifle and a sidearm, but took them and attached them to my person accordingly before turning and making my way back out into the lobby.
Outside, Humvees had already begun to line up, and men and women were loading miscellanies supplies into the backs of them. From tarps, to blankets, to pillows, nothing seemed amiss. My only concern was whether or not we’d be able to feed the Grays once They came out of cryosleep and were sent to the ground.
Rather than consider that outright, however, I merely stepped forward, and into the daylight beyond the awning.
“Berrios,” Captain Jason Sin said, nodding as he hefted a heavy box into the back of a vehicle. “Good to see you back.”
“It’s good to be back, sir.”
The man merely nodded before gesturing Asha and I to the Humvee in front of them. “Get in. We’ve already been given instructions on where the Grays would like the first humanitarian camp to be placed.”
We drove through the remnants of downtown Austin as at our sides and above our heads Grays and ships alike worked to clear the wreckage from the area. Armed with apparatuses that resembled guns but instead seemed to distort gravity to allow objects to be lifted, the creatures—seemingly out-of-place within broad daylight—worked diligently to prepare passages for us as the humanitarian relief to come through. As we did so, I considered those Graykind working outside of the vehicles—and how, soon, we would be assisting in the largest refugee effort ever known to mankind.
