by Kody Boye
“Planned?” I frowned.
“There’s long been speculation that the Coyotes are able to communicate with Their masters through telepathy. Now… I don’t think it’s safe to say it’s impossible, considering how highly-advanced Their technology is, but… well… maybe telepathy is a stretch.”
“Either way,” I replied, “people think They can communicate with Their masters from vast distances.”
“Correct.”
“Which means it might not even be my fault that They approached the wall.”
“It means exactly that.”
In theory, it made sense; but it didn’t explain the visions, nor did it explain the sudden, inexplicable interest They’d shown toward me. It hadn’t been a slow advance either—it’d been a full-out assault. Had we not the firepower that night, our walls could’ve easily been breached.
People could’ve died.
Fort Hope could’ve fallen.
Nothing could’ve been left of the place I had spent the last six years growing up.
With a short, resounding nod, I settled onto the chair across from Captain Henshaw. “Tell me about the one place I could go.”
Henshaw ran a hand across his sweaty brow, then sat across from me. “It used to be a hospital in the city of Austin,” he explained, leaning forward and lacing his hands together. “It used to house all number of doctors, physicians, psychiatrists, pharmacists. This sprawling place was one of the main hospitals in the entire city, and boasted some of the most impressive research centers in Central Texas. If anywhere would be safe, it’d be there.”
“How would you get me there?”
“We would either have to dispatch you in a vehicle and risk braving the roads, or we would have to send for a helicopter.”
“Are you able to?”
“Our standard communications were not destroyed by the aliens when They first arrived. Some may have decayed from lack of maintenance, but the last time we spoke with Burgundy Hospital, everything went smoothly.”
“So you’re saying there’s a chance I could leave.”
“Are you really that determined to leave the only home you know?” Henshaw asked.
“I feel like something bad’s going to happen,” I said. “And it isn’t just because I have a bad feeling.”
“You’re talking about the visions?”
I nodded.
Henshaw—unable to refute my claims of conscience—leaned back and studied me with his dark eyes. His frown was enough to set me on edge. I rarely, if ever, saw him express an emotion his stone-cold demeanor couldn’t repress. I imagined the military trained it out of you. Conditioning, it was called—stripping the lesser aspects from a person to make a better soldier.
In that moment—and in staring at his near-emotionless eyes—I realized he held everything in the palm of his hand. My life, my future, my fate—he could slide it underfoot and squash it like a bug, all because he didn’t agree with what I was saying.
“Sir,” I said, hoping the lapse in conversation had allowed him some clarity on the matter.
He leaned forward to pin me with his gaze. “If you feel your leaving is the best course of action, there’s nothing I can do to stop you.”
“Then you agree? That it might be safer if I leave?”
“I agree,” Henshaw started, “with the idea that something is happening to you. I’m not entirely convinced it’s what drew the Coyotes to the walls. What I know for sure is that if you can receive medical treatment in a facility designed to suit your needs, then there’s no point in denying you that option. I’ll put in the order to have contact established with Burgundy Hospital. If everything goes according to plan, we should be able to move you within the next few days.”
I could only hope it would be soon enough.
I wasn’t sure what to tell my mother, or my sister.
I wasn’t even sure what to tell myself.
As I walked back from the armory, my hand in my pocket and my eyes downcast, I tried not to tremble over the reality that I would soon be leaving Fort Hope.
My family, my friends, my purpose—all would be gone in but a few days.
“It’s for their own good,” I mumbled, kicking a stray rock. I watched it bounce several feet until it came to rest at the end of a nearby boot. When I lifted my head, I saw a familiar face. “Asha.”
“Hey, Ana Mia,” the young woman replied, stepping forward. “How’re you doing?”
“Not good,” I said. “Not good at all.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
I didn’t. Not really. But I knew if I didn’t say something to someone I was going to burst.
With a nod, I lowered myself to the grass of a nearby curb. I leaned forward and expelled the breath I’d been holding in for the longest time. It felt like the entire weight of the world was lifted from my shoulders when it left my lungs—like the elephant, so ominously present in the room, had risen from its seat on my chest.
“What’s going on?” Asha asked, joining me.
“I’m going to leave Fort Hope,” I said.
“What?”
I explained the details surrounding my attack—of the visions, the Coyotes, and how I felt a deep, dark dread within a place that had not existed until that single bite. When I finished—with inklings of moisture pooled at the corners of my eyes—I bowed my head to stem the flow of tears, but to no avail.
Asha remained silent for several long moments. When she finally spoke, it was a simple, “Wow.”
Wow.
That was all someone could say to a girl who had just spilled her heart out. Wow.
“I feel like my world is caving in around me,” I said, forcing myself to look at the young woman—to see the horror etched upon the lines around her mouth, in the corners of her eyes. “I don’t know what to do, Asha. One moment I’m thinking that I’m making the right decision, the next I’m wondering if I’ve made the biggest mistake of my life.”
“Have you already agreed to leave if you’re able to?”
“I don’t think I have any other choice.”
“You always have a choice, Ana Mia.”
“I know, but—”
What? I could choose to ignore the feeling and potentially let the entire complex die as a result, or I could follow it and get as far away from my friends, and my livelihood, as possible. What more was there to debate, to decide—to, as Asha had so eloquently stated, choose?
Rather than dwell on it, I pushed myself to my feet and started down the road.
Asha gave chase. “Hey! Ana Mia!”
I turned to face her.
When she took hold of my hand, I started bawling.
“I know you’re scared,” the girl said, “and I know this is going to be a hard decision, but I want you to know I’m here for you no matter what.”
“Thank you.”
She leaned forward, pressed a kiss to my cheek, and forced a smile.
I tried to smile back, but couldn’t.
“Where will you go?” she asked.
“There’s a hospital in Austin,” I said, stepping back and looking into her eyes. “They might be able to help me.”
“And you’re sure you want to go?”
I wasn’t sure of anything. All I knew was that I couldn’t stay there.
When I let go of her hand, then turned and walked away once more, I knew in my heart and soul I couldn’t stay.
My mother, my sister, Asha, Jason—
If I stayed, they would all die.
There was no denying that.
Chapter 9
It was the sirens that woke me later that night.
At first, I wasn’t sure what I heard. The incessant drone began softly enough—pulling me from sleep like a mother would a crying child—but after a short time, it increased to a fever pitch. It blared through my ears, set my nerves on fire, made my eyes shoot wide open as I realized, with utter horror, what was happening.
The perimeter had been breac
hed.
The Coyotes were inside the apartment complex.
Fort Hope was under siege.
I threw myself to my feet, grimacing as the pain within my injured arm sliced through my consciousness, and grappled for my mother—who, like me, was still struggling to awaken.
“Mama,” I said, shaking her awake. “Mama. Mama!”
“I hear it honey,” she said.
“We have to go.”
“Where?”
There was only one place we could go: the school.
I dragged my mother from the bedroom as the siren’s pace increased.
Outside, people screamed, guns fired, and a light cut through the streets as something faster than a bird zoomed overhead. I paused just in time to catch its glowing countenance as it passed the living room window.
Coyotes weren’t the only things that had breached the perimeter.
Harvesters had arrived with Them.
“We can’t stay.” Hauling my mother into the kitchen, I pulled a butcher knife from the block. I tested its weight in my good hand, then in my left—which I’d removed from the sling earlier that night—before facing my mother: who, with wide eyes and a pale expression, simply stared at me. “Mama! Snap out of it!”
“They’re here.”
I spun.
A Coyote stood outside the window—watching, waiting, smiling. It pressed a five-fingered hand to the window and pushed with all its might to try and break entry.
Running forward, I tore the curtains across the windows before kicking the door open—spinning, instinctively, to avoid its reach as it hobbled forward. I swung, extending the knife as far as my reach would go, and was rewarded with resistance as it cut into its tender flesh. Its howl tore through the night as I fought the creature off. My mother appeared, brandishing a knife of her own, and together we drove the monster into the street.
“Ana Mia!” I heard my sister cry.
“Xiomara!”
My sister arrived, gun in her arms. When the Coyote spun to face her, she lifted the gun, let loose a hail of bullets, and cut the thing down.
“We can’t stay,” she said as she ran forward, chest heaving and sweat beading her brow.
“What’s going on?” I asked, taking hold of her arm.
“The Coyotes started advancing shortly after midnight,” she said, grimacing as the sound of gunfire rose over her voice. “We tried to shoot Them down, but They just kept coming. Then They started crawling over the walls and that was when—”
“The Harvester,” I cut in.
“Yeah.” She looked from me to our mother. “Mom, we need to leave. Now.”
“Where will we go?” she asked. “What about the captain? Where is he?”
“I don’t know,” Xiomara replied. “Right now, I don’t care. We need to get out of here. Come on!”
I bolted into a sprint as my sister took off down the road, taking extra care not to trip over the bodies of Coyotes and men alike as we trampled along the asphalt. My chest heaved, my lungs burned, my bare feet struggled to find purchase on the solid ground beneath. Someone screamed in the distance; a beam of light shone through the night like a dagger piercing down from the immortal heavens.
We were just about to reach the office that had been converted into a school when a series of Coyotes appeared.
Xiomara raised her gun and fired.
The first went down.
The next two surged at her.
“GO!” she screamed.
“I’m not leaving you!” I cried.
My sister turned. In one great lunge, she pushed me into our mother, who grabbed my shirt and dragged me toward the gateway that exited the complex.
“Mama!” I screamed, trying desperately to pull myself away. “Let go!”
“I can’t let you go,” she said as she continued to drag me along, no longer playing the role of the passive bystander. “We have to run while we have the chance.”
“We can’t leave Xiomara!”
“Xiomara has a weapon! Now go!”
She shoved me through the gateway without any regard for the fact that it was closed. The gate parted beneath my weight, swinging out and to the side to allow the pair of us passage.
I turned, about to call to Xiomara, when I saw one of the Coyotes standing over her. Blood dripped from its mouth and a maniacal expression parted its lupine lips.
“NO!” I screamed, once more throwing myself toward the wrought-iron gate. “Xiomara!”
“We can’t do anything,” my mother sobbed, pulling me along. “We have to run.”
All my rage, all my agony, all my cruel frustration, boiled to the surface, consuming me in a ball of perpetual misery that threatened to send me over the edge. The more I looked, the more I wanted to run—to scream and stab and rip and tear into the thing that killed my sister—but I knew I couldn’t. My mother still needed me, and as much as I wanted to seek my revenge, there was nothing I could do for my poor sister.
She’d given me—and our mother—the chance to escape. If we died now, then her death would have been for nothing.
With a tug of her hand my mother led me into the street—where, filled with the bodies of dead Coyotes and discarded bullet casings, the path to our salvation lay.
I ran.
My mother wasn’t able to keep up with my pace, and I reached back to drag her with me—using my forward momentum to pull her away from the source of the never-ending battle. Gunfire continued to bark as Harvesters—three from what I could count—trailed the complex with their beams of light, either cutting down buildings with lasers or beaming people into their ships.
As we ran, cutting through front yards and backyards and everything in between, I tried to determine where we could go to ride out the alien assault. I couldn’t think of anything except one of the homes that had already been plundered.
“Mama,” I said, turning to find her face pale as a sheet and her brow beaded with sweat. Her chest heaved from the exertion forced upon her body and her lips struggled to pull in the cool night air, which no longer smelled of flowers, but of carnage and death. “We need to keep going.”
“I need to breathe,” my mother said. “Just for a moment longer.”
“We need to—”
Something appeared in my peripheral.
“NO!” I screamed.
A Coyote lunged and took down my mother.
I threw myself forward, knife-down, and stabbed into its back, not bothering to aim for any place in particular as I struggled to fell the creature before it sunk its teeth into her throat. I stabbed and stabbed, slicing my way through flesh and tendon to drive the creature away. My attack worked, because shortly thereafter, the thing slumped to the side, dead, its eyes no longer glowing with miserable life.
I turned to look at my mother.
The moment my eyes fell to her abdomen, I realized it was too late. She had been gutted, and lay bleeding out on the front lawn of a home we’d never known.
“Mama,” I said, falling to my knees beside her, tears streaming from my face as I realized she was still alive and there was nothing that I could do for her. “Everything’s going to be fine. I’ll get you in one of these houses. I’ll keep you safe. Everything—”
“Don’t worry about me,” she gasped, reaching up to stroke my tear-stained face. Blood dripped from the corners of her mouth and she wheezed from the effort of speech. “There’s nothing you can do for me, Ana Mia. Go. Now. Before you’re next.”
“I love you,” I whispered, taking hold of her hand.
“And I you,” she whispered, closing her eyes. “Te amo, Ana Mia.”
“Te amo,” I replied.
Her grip tightened for one brief moment before it slackened in my grasp.
I wanted to scream as her hand slumped from mine, but I knew I couldn’t.
My mother and sister had died less than half-an-hour from each other.
At that moment, I was all alone in the world.
Standing, I
looked from the dead Coyote, to my mother, then back to the Coyote before taking off into a run.
Without my mother to hinder my progress I sailed like lightning, arcing through the night and toward a place I had no concept or vague recollection of. I could barely see through the tears, such were their intensity and sheer pursuit to blind me. I reached up several times to wipe them away and found that doing so only caused more to arise. When a strangled sob choked my throat, I collapsed in a nearby yard and trembled.
Images filled my head—of a time and place I couldn’t understand. First it was the gray hills, then it was the monoliths, then it was the Coyotes dancing below them as in the skies above the disc-shaped saucers circled. Then I saw Fort Hope—burning, as from the Harvester’s depths they fired city-rending lasers to cut down any and everything that was in their path. Then I heard the Coyotes—baying, softly, as They communicated between one another.
Find the girl, I thought I could hear Them say. Find the girl. Find the girl. Find the girl.
I shook. What felt like a seizure took my body, and I spasmed once, then twice before settling back into the cool grass.
Blinking, I tried my hardest not to succumb to another fit.
When I opened my eyes again I could see nothing but stars, could hear little more than the sound of buildings collapsing and smell nothing but smoke in the air.
I had to get away. Right away. While I still had the chance.
Rolling over, I pushed myself to my feet with my good arm and didn’t bother to pull the knife from the grass as I took off—running from house to house to see if any were unlocked.
When I came across a shed whose interior I knew was shrouded in darkness, I pulled its handle, threw myself inside, then slammed the door and pushed a toolbox that I swore weighed a ton in front of it.
The moment I felt I was safe, my adrenaline ceased to flow.
Collapsing, I trembled.
I sobbed.
For one moment, I thought something would bang down the door, such were my cries.
