by Kody Boye
“If we were staying,” I said, then swayed as a wave of exhaustion began to overwhelm me.
“Woah there,” Asha said, catching me before I could stumble and fall. “You okay, Ana Mia?”
“I just need to lie down. That’s all.”
“Let’s go then.”
Given the size of the house, it wasn’t difficult to find the largest bedroom, located at the end of the main hallway. We locked the door, pushed the dresser in front of it, and drew the curtains on the windows before we both collapsed onto the bed.
I managed to remain awake while I took note of our surroundings.
The door was locked, the lone dresser barricading entry, the curtains drawn, the room dark. We were, as anyone would have been fit to say, safe as could be. But why did I feel as though we were lying under the constant presence of a drawn knife? Was it because we were finally in the city?
“Asha,” I said, struggling to remain awake. “Do you feel that?”
“Feel… what?” Asha asked.
“Like something’s wrong?”
“You’re just tired, Ana Mia. Go to sleep.”
“But I—”
The gun. That was it. The gun!
I rolled out of the bed, stumbled to my feet, then rounded the bed until I grabbed the gun from Asha’s side. I positioned it on the night side table next to me before crawling back onto bed and closing my eyes—thinking, for some bizarre reason, I would be the one to wake up should something attempt to break in.
Outside, thunder rumbled, which was shortly followed by the rain.
They always said the weather could change so quickly in Austin. One minute it’d be hot, the next cold, the next raining—and then, maybe that night, snowing.
I closed my eyes—wanting, and willing, my body to collapse from the material world and all that was in it. I wanted nothing more than to sleep—to be taken from a place that offered little more than absolute misery—but found that I couldn’t.
Asha, on the other hand, had already passed out, breathing contentedly while I struggled to maintain focus on the wall directly in front of me.
I knew it was because I was on edge—that I was just struggling to calm down after running on adrenaline for so long—but that didn’t help that my body refused to budge.
“Come on,” I mumbled, tears breaking the surface of my eyes. “Just go to sleep. Just go to—”
I stopped.
Outside, a small bird sung—a pleasant sound that instantly reminded me of happier times in Fort Hope.
Maybe I’d wake up and this would all be a bad dream—and rise to find that the fort hadn’t fallen, that Xiomara and Mama weren’t dead, that Asha’s parents were still alive and that Jason was no longer missing. The Coyotes wouldn’t have attacked, and it would be the day I was meant to choose what I wanted to do for the rest of my life.
Would I still choose the Guard, I wondered, if I had a chance to do it all over?
I didn’t know.
I couldn’t know.
And it was that thought that I fell asleep with.
“Ana Mia?” Asha asked. “Are you awake?”
I opened my eyes to darkness. “What?” I asked, startled as her hands sought mine in the darkness. “What’s wrong?”
“I thought I heard something outside.”
“Just stay calm,” I said as I rolled off the bed, then dragged her as far beneath the mattress as I possibly could. “It’ll go away when it realizes there’s nothing here.”
“That’s the thing,” she whispered. “I don’t think it was a Coyote.”
“How do you—”
I stopped, then, as outside I heard what sounded like a hand slapping against the wall in several locations, as if to judge the weakness of particular points.
I waited, listened, tried to discern what could be making that sound.
If not a Coyote, what, then, was attempting to break in? Was it one of the things we’d encountered in the woods? An Overseer that commanded one of the Harvester ships? What could possibly be there?
I dreaded to think there were more aliens we didn’t know about—that somehow, in the big cities, They’d let loose creatures I could only begin to imagine—and for that reason bowed my head and pressed a single finger to my lips. The slow exhale that followed was enough to inspire tears in Asha’s eyes. When she reached out to take hold of the gun, I shook my head and pushed her hand back.
Be quiet, I mouthed, though I wasn’t sure if she saw my lips moving in the darkness beneath the mattress.
I lifted my head in time to hear what sounded like words spoken in a language I couldn’t understand.
Asha—trembling from the fear coursing through her body—let out a tiny, muffled sob.
I reached out and pressed a hand against her mouth. “Quiet,” I growled, hoping the sound wasn’t as loud as I thought it was.
The voices—if they could even be called that, given how low they were and the way they didn’t sound like actual words—continued for several moments, each distinct in that they had their own pitch and timbre. The pressing, then thumping of the hands against the walls continued for several minutes before it finally ceased.
I closed my eyes and let out a breath.
That was when I heard the trumpeting sound that heralded a Harvesting.
“Stay still,” I whispered.
The house shook—violently, at that. The floorboards trembled, the walls vibrated, the mattress above began to quiver as the frame was lifted off the ground. Asha whimpered. I held my hand over her mouth to keep her from squeaking and drew as close to her as I possibly could, wrapping my arms around her in what felt like the final moments of my life.
That was when I heard it—the startled cry, then scream of what sounded like a man.
I forced my eyes tightly shut as his bloodcurdling scream echoed throughout the surrounding area—until, finally, it stopped.
I couldn’t help but sigh my relief.
They hadn’t spotted us. They’d found someone else.
But if They could find a person when they were within a home, what did that mean for the pair of us?
I kept my hand over Asha’s mouth as the rumbling of the Harvester ship lowering to the ground and then lifting back into the air echoed along the house. Pictures fell from walls and an ornate glass vase collapsed onto the floor. The resulting impact and shatter of glass made her jump, but she didn’t cry out like I thought she would. Instead, all she did was exhale through her mouth, her dry lips like sandpaper against the palm of my hand.
When finally I felt as though nothing would find us, I pulled my hand away and wrapped her in a hug.
“Are we safe?” Asha whispered in the moments that followed.
“I don’t know,” I replied, just as quietly, and held on to her for dear life.
The impressions in the grass were the first things we noticed when we walked out of the house the following morning.
“They… landed?” Asha asked.
“Yeah,” I said, rising from where I crouched near the scorch marks in the earth. “Apparently They did.”
“So that was what made the house rumble last night?”
“I guess.”
I turned my attention up to the nearby trees and saw that they, too, bore damage from the previous night’s landing—complete with singed leaves, burnt bark, and branches that lay either completely broken from the tree or at odd, disjointed angles in the tree itself. How They’d managed to land such a craft—especially one so big—so perfectly in the front yard was almost unimaginable. At the very least, They hadn’t found us.
The poor person who’d been in the house next door though…
I trained my attention on the neighbor’s home and sighed as I took note of the broken glass in the front door and windows—either broken down by the aliens who had come within the Harvester ship or by Coyotes determined to enter. Even from there we could see the living room was in shambles, given the dust and dirt, grass and leaves, stuffing
from the couch, and teardrops of glass. Whoever had been abducted had put up a fight. Blood stained the porch.
“We were lucky,” I said as I gestured Asha back a few steps, toward the threshold. I had left it open in case we needed to make a hasty retreat inside. “They could’ve gotten us too.”
“Was it just him?” Asha asked. “Or do you think there were more?”
“I think it was just him,” I said, unable to refrain from shivering as I thought of what would have happened had They known we were in that house. “What we need is a game plan for today.”
“I’d say we consult the map and go from there,” Asha replied, turning and walking back into the living room. Asha waited for me to shut and lock the door before making her way into the kitchen, then stood beside me as she began to search for the map. Once it was unfurled, she traced our trajectory—straight up the highway and across the river—until her finger landed on Burgundy Hospital. “I’d say this’d take us no more than… what? Four hours to get to?”
“I don’t know,” I replied. “You’re better at math than I am.”
“I think it’s ten or so miles away. Maybe fifteen, twenty at the most.”
“We can walk that in a few hours.” I nodded, shrugging my pack further up my shoulder. “I say we leave now, though, just in case… well… you know.”
“They come back,” Asha agreed, rolling the map and sliding it into her pants pocket. “Yeah. Okay. I’m ready when you are.”
I didn’t want to tell her I wasn’t ready.
Considering what had happened the previous night, I wasn’t sure I could face any more of the city’s dangers.
The river’s beauty was nearly indescribable as we passed over the bridge and began the last stretch of our journey. Large, immaculate, with reeds growing near the edges and the water a crisp, clean blue—I imagined it would be warm on a day like that. I looked out at the majesty that had once been a grand and fortuitous place and sighed when I realized people would no longer grace its beauty atop kayaks or in small recreational boats.
“It’s pretty,” Asha said as she stopped to sip some water, “isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” I replied. “It is.”
The stretch of running trails which lay before us resembled nothing of their former selves. Overgrown, they appeared to be jungles in an urban wasteland—nature reclaiming what was rightfully hers. Already the bridge showed sign of disrepair. Cracks in the road were widening, the plants within spreading them further apart. The fact that it was still standing was something of a miracle. If I were I an alien, and wanting to prevent people from entering or leaving the city, I would’ve simply destroyed it. Considering that hadn’t happened—and that we could still stand upon it—was a blessing. Before us loomed the variety of businesses and small homes we would pass on our way to Burgundy Hospital.
“We’ll be there soon,” I said, looking out at the trees and apartment buildings that loomed in the distance.
“Are you ready for this?” Asha asked.
“Safety? Or what they might do to me once we arrive?”
“Both,” my friend said.
I wasn’t sure how to respond. Instead, I began walking again, sliding my hands into my pockets and considering the distance between me and her before pacing myself accordingly. When Asha ran up alongside me and readjusted her grip on the gun, I sighed.
I could just imagine it: us, arriving, taken in by complete strangers; me, prodded by scientists, my blood drawn, my urine taken, possibly other bodily fluids removed. They’d subject me to tests, I knew, that would be both grueling and painful, and though I knew it would be for my own good, they would perform them with the knowledge that somehow, someway, I was different from the rest of them—all because I’d been bitten by a Coyote and survived.
Were I able to see my face, I’d imagine it’d resemble a portrait of shock—of numb betrayal for the fact that Fort Hope had fallen and given me no choice but to make my way there.
“I’m sorry I brought it up,” Asha said after a moment’s hesitation.
“It’s okay,” I replied. “It isn’t your fault that I’m scared.”
“I’d be scared too if I were you,” she said. “But hey—if they start doing anything you don’t want them to when we get there, we’ll leave. Simple as that.”
“And go where?”
“I don’t know. A farmhouse? A place on the lake? Somewhere away from the people we wouldn’t want to be around.”
“We’re safer as a group,” I said. “Besides—it doesn’t matter what happens to me as long as you’re safe.”
Asha paused. I, too, stopped, but only when I realized she wasn’t following anymore.
“You… really mean that, don’t you?”
“I do,” I replied, forcing a smile even though I didn’t want to make one. “I already failed Jason. I’m not going to fail you.”
“Ana Mia,” Asha said.
I shook my head, turned, and started on again.
When she began to follow, I knew I’d made the right decision.
I could rest well at night, torturous medical procedures or not, so long as I knew she was safe.
At that moment, that was all I cared about.
Chapter 15
The hospital rose in the distance like a testament to our journey, survival, and loss that had come with it. At least five stories tall, with brick accenting its lower portions and sterling silver siding on its upper half, it shone like a beacon of hope on a day that otherwise would’ve been miserable during the end of the world. Though habitation was not clear, it didn’t appear decrepit like the other buildings around it. If anything, it seemed maintained—and guarded, I would’ve added, had I been able to see the ground level from where we were.
“We just have to take this off ramp,” Asha said as she looked up from the map and gestured to the nearby road, “and we’ll be able to walk straight there.”
“You’re sure?” I asked. She nodded and stuck the map back into her pocket. “You ready?”
We descended the ramp cautiously, careful to navigate around the vehicles that appeared purposely parked to make maneuvering that much more difficult, and avoided any debris created as a result of the initial invasion. There, bullet casings lay everywhere, along with speckles of dried blood where birds and other animals hadn’t gotten to it. A quick look once we stepped off the landing was enough to confirm that, yes, that place was sanctuary; and yes, it was likely inhabited by the very people Captain Henshaw had said it would be.
“Well,” I mumbled, more to myself than to Asha. “Here goes nothing.”
We had just started to approach the outskirts of the hospital when a figure appeared in a nearby window.
“Get down!” I hissed, knowing it was too late, but aware we could still be shot at were we not careful.
Asha and I ducked behind a vehicle. She, having not seen what I had, looked at me with confusion. I gestured up toward the window and she nodded when she took note of the shifting curtain.
“Well,” she said. “At least we know there are people here.”
“But do we know if they’re the right people?” I questioned.
She shook her head, and waited a moment before peeking out from behind the car we crouched behind. She stared into the distance for several minutes before standing and saying, “Let’s go.”
“Are you—”
A shot rang out, narrowly missing Asha’s head
“HALT!” a woman with a commanding voice yelled from somewhere above us. “Don’t move!”
I raised my head to find the woman standing upon the roof, adorned in heavy black SWAT armor and wielding a military-grade sniper rifle.
“State your business,” she continued, not moving the weapon from Asha’s figure.
“We’re survivors from Fort Hope, Fredericksburg!” I called, hoping my voice would not attract any unwanted attention. “We’ve come at the direction of Captain Frank Henshaw to seek shelter in your hospital!”
&
nbsp; “Fort Hope has fallen?” the woman called down, lowering her gun when she—assumedly—realized we were not a threat.
“Yes,” I said. “It has.”
She waited a moment—and though I couldn’t see her face behind her helmet, I imagined she studied us, testing the validity of our claim. As she did so, I wondered why. Why would we make something like that up? A prominent safe zone in Central Texas had fallen, and with it dozens of people. As the sole survivors, Asha and I should have been applauded—welcomed with open arms without discrimination. But could the woman—who was so many feet above us—even see who we were? Could she tell we were just two teenage girls who had walked all that way to get there?
Not able to know, and unwilling to dwell upon it, I stepped out from behind the car to show myself in plain view.
Whether she recognized the severity of our journey was up for debate. However—when she turned back into the building, Asha and I could merely stare.
“What should we do?” she asked as she stepped up beside me.
“We wait,” I said, “and see what happens.”
So, we waited—watching the rooftop, awaiting the door that we couldn’t see to open, for the footsteps to return and for someone to call for us to approach. When none of that came—and when Asha and I were left to stand without so much as an answer to the question we so desperately wished to ask—it seemed like nothing would happen.
Then we heard footsteps bounding toward us from our left.
Asha was about to raise her weapon when someone screamed, “DROP THE GUN!”
That’s when we saw them—all seven, dressed like the woman on the roof, wielding rifles and shotguns and what looked like smaller versions of machine guns.
Asha, too shocked to say anything, removed her finger from the trigger, shifted her hold on the gun, then crouched and lowered it to the ground. She gently nudged it away from her.
The armed guards drew forward and, after removing the weapon, took hold of our arms. They dragged us toward the hospital’s front entrance. It was snarled with and guarded by barbed wire and other debris, much like Fort Hope would have been had it been more pristine and in a better-secured location.
