Against The Darkness (Cimmerian Moon)

by A. M. Griffin

  I sniffle back the trickle of liquid that’s making a trail from my nostril and across my cheek. Tears fall in fat drops from the corners of my eyes. I’m crying so softly that I doubt anyone can hear it.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  I’m in my kitchen. My mother’s favorite color—yellow—tints the walls. Stone carvings of suns, large and small, with a cartoonish artistic flare, are on the walls. My exams are hung on the refrigerator with magnets, displaying the A’s and A+’s as though I’m in elementary. My mother stands in front of the stove, her back to me, and she’s cooking.

  I inhale deeply. It’s an omelet. Glancing down, I see I’m sitting at our round, four-chair table. There’s a white ceramic mug in front of me. I pick it up and sip at its contents.

  Coffee. Ummm.

  She doesn’t let me drink coffee often, only for special occasions. I don’t know what’s so special about today, but I don’t ask her. I sip away, savoring the taste and loving the way it feels going down my throat and hitting my stomach.

  She hums a song as she begins to scoop my omelet onto the plate, using a spatula. The smell of eggs, cheese, ham and onions waft my way.

  Grumble, grumble, my stomach growls.

  She turns, holding the plate overflowing with a fluffy omelet. Steam rises off the surface. I lick my lips in anticipation. She’s smiling as she walks to me. The closer she gets the better that omelet looks and smells.

  Grumble, grumble, my stomach growls so hard this time it hurts.

  She stops in front of me and I wait for her to put the plate down, but she just stands there smiling at me, holding onto it. Not being able to stand it any longer, I reach for it, but before I can grab it, she pulls away abruptly.

  “Mom?”

  She’s still smiling, holding the plate out of my range. “This isn’t for you, baby.”

  “But…” I glance from her to the omelet and then back to her again. “Didn’t you make that for me? I’m so hungry.”

  “This isn’t for you because you have to go.”

  “Go? Go where?”

  “To band camp.”

  Panic rises like a storm within me. I can’t go to band camp. There will be an alien invasion and I’ll be separated from her. She might die…I might die.

  “No, no, no,” I yell, reaching out for her. But she keeps stepping back, holding up the plate, with that crazy smile on her face. No matter how close I get to her she stays out of my reach.

  “Please, mommy. Please don’t make me go. I want to stay here with you.”

  She keeps backing away, even when it seems there’s nowhere else for her to go.

  “Sin, wake up.”

  “Mommy?”

  She pushes me down. My shoulder snaps against the tile floor, pain radiates to my back.

  “Please, mommy,” I cry.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  “Sinta, Sinta, Sinta,” a voice calls, working its way through my cloudy mind.

  My eyes fly open.

  Where am I?

  Shayla’s crouching in front of my entrance. Her braids are hanging in waves past her shoulders. “Time to get up. We’re going to eat. Are you hungry?”

  I take a minute to register where I am and what’s going on.

  Right. Invasion.

  “Sure.”

  In case aliens come upon us, we stay close to our shelters, ready to scramble into them to hide. But aliens don’t come and neither do any of our other classmates.

  I can’t say that I’m on my A game. I spend the day in a fog, not wanting to think about leaving any of our classmates behind. Mia and I pretty much stick together. Shayla and MJ keep to themselves as well. Wade spends his time making spears and other items he says we’ll need for later. Ian doesn’t leave his shelter unless he has to pee and, when he does, he makes sure to let everyone know that’s the only reason we’re seeing him.

  And Ms. Burgess, well, I think she’s having the roughest time of us all. She does everything she can not to stay still. She seems to be a blur, scouting our surroundings, watching out for other students, helping Wade make spears, getting the wood together or checking on our shelters. She does all of this, but I think all she probably wants to do is sit down and cry. But I know she won’t, at least not in front of us.

  We wait until it’s late into the night, when it’s the darkest, and take turns bathing in the lake. The girls go first. We’ve had to stay covered in blood for the entire day, pretending that it’s not on our clothes…or our skin. We use our hands to wipe away the blood and filth that’s caked on us and in our hair, but without soap I still don’t feel clean. We do the same for our clothes, vigorously rubbing them together in an effort to get out everything, but again, without soap the stains are set.

  I don’t know if I’m more miserable going into the water than I am coming out. We can’t hang our clothes out to dry for fear of what might pass by and find them, so we wring them out as best as we can and put them back on, only to lie on top of the dirt again. My only consolation is that I’m not sticky anymore and even though the blood stains are still on my clothes, most of it has been washed off.

  The next day is just as foggy as the first. I’m awake but not really. I’m aware of everyone around me, aware of what they say, what they do. If anyone asked me to repeat back what they said, I could do it, just like a parrot.

  But I’m numb.

  I want this to be a dream.

  I don’t put too much into anything because I believe I will wake up at any minute. I am not sleeping on the ground in a fort made of sticks and twigs. I am not rationing crackers and water.

  I am not separated from my mother, my father, my life.

  I know I’m not the only one feeling this way. Everyone is pretty much going through the motions, talking minimally and only when needed.

  Ms. Burgess stays busy by organizing us. She still hasn’t said anything about what happened. She seems to only have a couple of things on her mind; waiting for the aliens to move out of the area and taking care of us. We accept this as her role even though we all know how well that had worked out for the children that had been killed—or left.

  Wade keeps us all alive.

  Two months ago he had been an overweight kid who hardly talked unless spoken to. But now he is the glue holding us together. He tells us which berries are edible, which leaves aren’t bitter and what animals he would catch and kill if he could. But since we can’t eat raw meat, the animals scurrying past us are off limits. The smoke would lead the aliens right to us. He explained a way that we could slow cook them by burying them in the ground, but even that was risky. So while he schooled us on what we could eat we all listen, licking our lips and forcing down canned green beans.

  The only two who seem to be in their own little world are MJ and Shayla. They can’t separate from each other. They weren’t a couple before all this happened, but it appears as if they are now. When we were back at school, MJ had dated Kiera.

  Shayla was from the same projects as MJ and they hung out a lot, but I thought as just friends. I never saw an inkling of anything more. But that isn’t the case now.

  I leave my fog long enough to help Wade and Ms. Burgess with the spears. He has me find sticks taller than I am and, using my knife, shave the tips into nice points.

  As day two fades into night, I begin to think that no one else has made it. No one survived the alien attack but us. And that thought weighs my heart down like a stone. All those parents who will be waiting for their kids to return. Who will tell them what happened?

  I catch a cry in my throat.

  Shayla reaches out for Mia’s and my hands. “C’mon, we’re going to pray before we go to bed.”

  We let her lead us to where Ms. Burgess, MJ and Wade are.

  “We’re going to pray for everyone,” Shayla says. “We need closure.”

  “But—“

  “Ms. B,” Shayla says interrupting her. “Please, let us do this.”

  Ms. Burgess closes her mouth and hangs her head.r />
  “Ian. I know you can hear me,” Shayla says. “I’d like for you to join us.”

  I hold my breath, wondering if he will even come out of his shelter to join our prayer circle. We don’t have to wait long. He comes out and saunters our way and sits. We hold each other’s hands and bow our heads and listen as Shayla prays for everyone in the band. That they make it home safely and for those that didn’t, that their souls find peace. When she is done everyone has tears in their eyes.

  “Let’s get some sleep,” Ms. Burgess says. “We’ll be leaving here in the morning.”

  I get to my feet with Mia helping me. As I start to leave, Ian pulls on my shirt. “Sin, wait.”

  “Yes?”

  Mia waits for me, but I give a nod, telling her to go on without me.

  Ian shuffles on his feet and glances at the ground. “I’m sorry for…you know…what I said before. About you being half…”

  I could revel in his apology, make him sweat it out, but I stop him because, frankly, I can’t stand how long this apology is taking. “Forget about it.”

  He lets out a relieved breath. “Great. I didn’t mean any of that stuff. I was upset and maybe a little scar…nervous.”

  “It’s fine. We’re all scared.”

  “I didn’t say scared. I said nervous. And well, yeah, it’s pretty easy being nervous when monster aliens are trying to kill the only girl that I ever loved.”

  He can be an asshole sometimes, but he loves Mia almost as much as I do and he did save her. “Thanks for bringing her back to me. I don’t think I could bear to lose her. Without her or my mom…”

  “I wouldn’t have left without her.”

  I look into his eyes. “I know.”

  Chapter Five

  April 17th, 2012: Day 26

  We leave the third morning. The wind whips through the trees, pushing on us so hard I feel as though I would blow away from one of the forceful gusts. I can’t help thinking that this is some kind of sign to get us up and on our way. To make us leave this area.

  We left our little shelters up to be used by any other travelers coming that way. We even talk about how if everyone did what we had done, there would be shelters dotted around the world. That maybe the human race would survive and maybe the aliens hadn’t figured on us having compassion for each other. They might not know the motto “do onto others as you would want done onto you”.

  Since we aren’t moving with a large group anymore, we use the freeway as our guide. We follow it up through Gainesville, which used to be a well-populated area, but now there’s no one there. But as the wooded areas by the freeways become sparse we’re forced to move away all together. No one objects, as long as we have our map and my compass we know which way is home.

  If there is a need to go through a residential area we take the long way around, figuring the lizards would be patrolling those areas, looking for people who could be caught trying to scavenge for food. There are no more scouting details, as there’s no need. With just the seven of us, we’re able to cover more ground than before. By late in the day, we make it to Dahonega, which seems to be nothing more than campgrounds and wooded areas.

  And more people. Small bands of them.

  My thought at seeing more people than we had since we started for home is that they’re doing much the same thing we are, staying out of sight and trying to live off the grid.

  Not surprisingly, most of the people we run into are making the old camp grounds their homes. Old cabins are a lot better than sleeping outside, but I think they’re also a place where the aliens can easily trap a person. I wouldn’t mind sleeping on a cot, but the idea of being in a building with only one way out makes me extremely claustrophobic.

  I like the idea of meeting up with survivors. We’re able to get more intel on what the aliens have been doing, where they have been and how to avoid them, but staying with others seems to also make me nervous. It seems the more people that are around, the more the ships are overhead. My only guess is that the congregation of humans alerts the aliens and they’re marking this area on their “go get ’em” map. So far I’ve had pretty good luck with not seeing any of them up close and personal and I want to keep it that way.

  I’m not the only person who gets high-strung when we stay around other people for more than an hour. We meet up with a family from North Carolina, a father, mother and three small children. They are nice enough. We trade a couple cans of food for some more bottled water. The father, Addison, strongly suggests that we stay with them through one of the paths.

  The kids cry and fuss. The mother complains and Addison barks out orders.

  An hour into it and Ms. Burgess makes an excuse as to why we have to veer off and go a separate direction. When Addison seems not to like that idea and insists that we all stay together, we all have to help Ms. Burgess out with reasons why we have to split up. I don’t know if Addison wants to keep us with him because he thinks he would be saving us or because he needs help with his wife and kids.

  I don’t think we would mind traveling with other people, but we can’t attract attention to ourselves. That kind of attention—the crying kids in particular—will get us caught or killed.

  Once we separate from Addison and his family, we move deeper into the hilly area, where trees are abundant. That’s also where it becomes apparent we aren’t going to move as fast as we had when we first started. And from viewing the map, the terrain is not going to get any easier for a while. We still have to skirt around the National Forest before the land starts to level out again.

  By the time it’s too dark to travel safely, we run into a group of gun-toting men who we don’t mind staying with. They call themselves “survivalists”. I’ve never heard of the name before, but Wade has. According to the men, they have been planning for something like this for years. They’re on their way to a retreat they had set up years before. We don’t ask if we can go with them and they don’t offer either. But what they do offer is to let us stay at their camp for the night. My normal apprehension disappears as they explain all the prepping we would need to do if we were to make a camp for the night ourselves.

  We’d apparently have to search for rattlesnakes and find an area where bears do not frequent. We’ve been in these woods for the day and none of us had even bothered to consider that encountering dangerous animals was even an option. By the time they are done instructing us on what we would need to do, we wholeheartedly agree to bunk down with them for the night. The men take turns on watch and although we’ve offered to help with this, they decline. Which, personally, I’m grateful for. We’ve covered about thirty-five miles in one day, and I can barely hold open my eyes. The survivalists have guns and the know-how to keep us alive through the night.

  Because of the dropping temperature, Mia and I huddle together. She’s lying behind me with her arms sandwiched between us and her hands tucked between her legs. I have my arms in the same position and my hoodie pulled up to protect my neck and head. It’s cold, but the survivalist told us we should be glad it’s spring and not in the dead of winter. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have lasted a day on this journey. So while the wind whips across me and makes me shiver, I’m thankful for the heat at my back.

  The crunch of footsteps causes me to open my eyes. Wade stops in front of me and lowers himself to the ground. “Here, let me help warm you up. I swear I can hear your bones knocking together from over there.”

  The only words I can get out, as he lies to face me and places his arm on my side is, “I’m s…so c…c…cold.”

  He rubs vigorously on my top arm. “I know.”

  The warmth from his body begins to slowly penetrate into my clothes and to my skin. I can’t help but snuggle my face in his chest, wanting to get warmer. “Thank you, this feels so much better.”

  “No problem.”

  The chills begin to subside and his warmth completely envelopes me.

  “So is anyone else waiting for you back home? I mean, besides your mother?�
� he asks. The warmth from his body begins to seep into my skin.

  “No, my dad went to Japan for business two days before all this happened. I don’t know if he was able to get home. I don’t think so though.”

  “Oh.” He clears his throat. “What about a boyfriend?”

  “No boyfriend. I don’t have time for a relationship. I didn’t then, and I definitely don’t now.” My eyes flutter close, feeling the weight of the day. “What about you? Is your girlfriend waiting for you?”

  “Me?” he says, as though he’s surprised I asked. “No. I don’t have girl.” And then adds quickly, “It’s a good thing too. I wouldn’t want her facing something like this alone. It would tear me up inside.”

  “That’s nice…not that it would tear you up inside but, you know, that if you had one you would be worried and thinking about her and wanting to protect her, even if you guys weren’t together.” I don’t know how I get all of that out. My voice is thick and my words sound jumbled.

  “It’s natural. My dad taught us how to take care of our women.”

  It would have been nice if someone would’ve taught my dad how to take care of women, is the last thought I have before everything goes dark and sleep claims me.

  I think it’s the best night I’ve had since the invasion began.

  But it seems as though I’ve just fallen asleep when the survivalists are waking us up again. I crack open my eyes to find the sun hasn’t even risen yet and they’re packing away all their gear. Wade is up and talking to one of them. He has his map out and he’s being shown the best route to take out of here. I quick glance behind me and I see Ian lying next to Mia, at her back and hugging her. But, as if he can feel me watching him, his eyes pop open and, seeing me watching him with Mia, he springs to his feet and leaves.

  He’s not fooling me one bit. He wants to get back with Mia, but doesn’t know how to ask her. I could tell Mia he kept her warm as she slept and that would surely send her back into his arms, but I think it’ll do him some good to suffer a while longer and have to man-up and ask her back.