by N. W. Harris
“She’s right,” Maurice seconded, though with more compassion than Tracy would ever manage. “We may not be the ones who’ll take out the flagship, but we have to do our absolute best. Those kids we fought so hard to protect need us now more than ever. According to Lilith and her friends, the whole world needs us.”
“And Aaron, Matt, and Billy gave their lives,” Steve said mournfully, eyes heavy and somber. “We owe it to them to do our best.”
“I’ll die before I let anyone hurt my sister,” Kelly snarled. “If there’s a fight that’s going to save her, I have to be in it.”
The rage and aggression he’d seen when they fought Shamus’ gang in Atlanta entered her eyes. She was a cornered lioness, ready to use tooth and claw to protect Nat. The look was the opposite of the one the sweet girl he’d gone to church with on Sundays and had a crush on for most of his life had worn. Her ferocity would cause even the bravest man to cower, and it was hard to hold eye contact with her for more than a couple of seconds.
“Give it a few days, Laura,” Shane said. “I think you may surprise us all.”
“Yeah,” Kelly agreed, her features softening. “We just have to stick together, and we’ll do fine.”
It was abundantly clear to Shane—their ability to transform from quiet, humble kids from Leeville into violent warriors was why they were here. He wasn’t proud of what he’d done—the lives he’d taken. The thought of hurting anyone or anything else made his stomach turn. But as much as he hated the realization, he was good at killing when the situation demanded it. Not something he would’ve thought to put on his résumé until recently. Aliens indirectly murdering his dad and coming here to enslave the girl he loved were situations that justified some killing—that was for damn sure.
Laura must have the same strengths, but she hadn’t gone downtown with them. According to Jones, the rebels were going to put them through some vigorous training. He reckoned they’d soon learn what Laura was capable of, and then her doubts would fade, and Tracy would show her more respect.
“I’m stepping out for some fresh air,” Shane said, overwhelmed and exhausted from being around them. “You guys should do as Jones said and settle in.”
He didn’t want to appear weak to his friends, knowing they would look to him for leadership, but he needed a moment to clear his mind. Without giving them a second glance, he headed out of the barracks.
The door squeaked closed, and he stood on the edge of the tarmac. The hot August sun shined full in his face. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, letting the distracting heat soak him.
Opening his eyes, he noticed a narrow egress between the barracks and the hangar next door. He strolled into it, searching for what he hoped was easy access to the woods. As he walked the length of the paved alley, the sappy and earthy smell of the forest grew in intensity, displacing the diesel fuel and tar odor that polluted it on the tarmac. At the rear of the buildings, Shane crossed a narrow strip of fescue-riddled gravel and pushed through the briars. Eight feet in, the undergrowth cleared. The mingling canopies of old oaks and pines blocked the light such that only ferns, poison oak, holly, and other shrubbery could survive on the shadowy forest floor.
The moist fragrance of the forest initially swept away his stress. He stretched his arms upward and rose onto his tiptoes, sighing deeply like he’d just returned home from a long day at school. This very same forest reached all the way down the spine of the Appalachian Mountains into Leeville.
The base sat near the top of a mountain, and a few yards into the forest, the grade dropped off steeply. Shane came to the first tall oak, its girth fifteen feet around, and its roots stretching out through the soft soil, creating ridges between piles of leaf litter and acorns. The majestic tree had to be over two hundred years old. He put his hand on its coarse, gray bark, his fingers digging into the soft moss clinging to it. Closing his eyes, he imagined his ancestors walking through this forest. They may have touched this very tree. He could feel its old soul, shushing him and telling him everything would be all right.
Drinking in deep breaths of the sweet forest smells, he hiked down for ten minutes. He opened his eyes just wide enough to keep from bumping into the trees. The leaves crunching under the running shoes provided with his black garb covered all other sounds.
It didn’t take long for him to feel he was much farther away from the base than he actually was. When he came upon a thick tree fallen across his path, he climbed onto it and sat, facing downhill. He closed his eyes and let out a long sigh. It felt like iron bands fell away from his chest and stacks of cinderblocks rolled off his shoulders. He hadn’t realized how stressed he’d become and wondered how much more a person could take before breaking.
It was the first time he was able to relax in… what? Well, he reckoned it was just a few days, but it felt like a lifetime. Being an only child, he wasn’t used to having people around him all the time. Usually, he got hours alone each day, and he needed those moments to recharge.
The chirping birds and the rhythm of a woodpecker’s hammering shattered his tranquility. Squirrels rustled through the trees above him, bringing a surge of fear. These animals might have killed some poor moonshiner in these woods. What if they had a taste for human blood and came after him? He was unarmed and too far from the base to outrun them. They’d tear him to shreds, and no one would hear his screams.
Focusing on how the alligator-skin bark of the old pine pinched his bottom for a distraction, he tried to ignore the absurd rush of terror. But then he started worrying the carpenter ants might attack him. Their powerful mandibles could take a tree apart—what could they do to his flesh?
He wanted to be lulled by nature’s soothing chorus, but he feared it might never sound as pleasing to him as it had before the critters went berserk. It wasn’t the animals’ fault, he told himself. They were forced to attack the adults and would never act that way in the absence of the limbic manipulator. As usual when he kept still in the woods, the sounds grew louder and the animals became comfortable with his presence. Determined to face this fear head-on, he resisted the urge to shout and clap his hands to chase them away. He closed his eyes and forced himself to listen.
Ten minutes may have passed, or even a half hour, in his struggle to find peace, Shane couldn’t tell. A subtle crunching sound sent a surge of panic through him. He opened his eyes to a deer, nosing around in the underbrush for a snack. Scanning its hoofs, he was relieved to see they weren’t stained with blood. Shane tried to remember how he used to enjoy seeing deer in their natural habitat, doing what they did when no one was around.
Staring at the animal, he started to convince himself to ignore the irrational fears. But then the animal made him think about Aaron. A rush of grief obliterated his calm. Damn death. He missed his best friend. Before, he’d hated the idea of killing such a pretty creature, and always got nauseous when Aaron or Steve bragged about one of their hunting trips. But now, he’d be glad to see a thousand deer die if he could get his friends and family back.
The doe raised her head, as if sensing the eruption of his inner turmoil. She looked past him, stiff, with her ears perked and trained up the hill. He held his breath, worried she might try to leap on him. Lifting her head higher, she seemed to pick up a sound he couldn’t perceive. In a flash of chestnut, the doe darted through the trees, flagging her white tail. The report of her pointed hoofs piercing the leaf litter receded until all evidence of her presence vanished.
Shane kept perfectly still, wondering what he’d done to startle her. Did she pick up on his anxiety over remembering Aaron’s death? He’d heard dogs and horses could sense human emotion, but he never suspected wild animals had the same ability. A noise behind him solved the mystery. It was a delicate sound, seeming to come from two feet and not four. The only animal who made that sort of noise in the woods was a human, though the person was moving with the stealth of a prowling cat.
Hoping whoever walked down the hill behind him would find their
own place of solitude and not discover his, Shane kept still and didn’t look back. The birds and the squirrels grew silent, wary of the new trespasser. In that moment, he felt like one of them, wanting to dart up a tree and hide until the human passed and the wild symphony could crescendo once again.
“Shane?” Kelly’s honeyed voice carried through the trees, timid, like she worried he may not want to be disturbed.
“Yeah.” He twisted on the log and saw her fifteen yards up, peering between the thick trunks. He was awash with relief. It didn’t bother him that she’d followed. “Come on down and sit for a spell.”
More adept at walking quietly in the forest than he would have ever expected, she made her way to his log. He helped her climb on. After sitting, she inched closer until she pressed against him and then stared off into the forest, perhaps sensing he didn’t come out here for conversation.
They sat hip to hip and shoulder to shoulder, neither saying a word. The animals resumed their song, growing accustomed to the new visitor. Shane’s pulse kicked up to a gallop, this time not because of fear of the animals.
“I love the woods,” Shane stammered, trying to control his excitement at being alone and so near to her. He wished he could be cool and suave like the dudes he’d seen in the movies, but he could barely think.
“I used to,” she replied. “It used to make me feel closer to God when I was in the forest.”
“Yeah.” It was something Granny would say. No wonder he liked Kelly so much. “What’s wrong now?”
“Guess I’m weirded out by the animals.” She glanced around, her eyes wide with concern. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look at them the same.”
“Don’t worry, Kelly,” he said, grabbing her hand. “That was all because of the limbic manipulator.” He didn’t let on that he’d been thinking the same thing, wanting to be strong for her.
“I know,” she said, looking at him bashfully. “It’s just hard to forget what I saw. That horrible day when it all started—it’s like the images are always there in my mind, waiting for me to blink or go to sleep so they can torment me.”
He pushed the hair out of her face and gently rested his hand on the back of her neck. “I didn’t let the critters get to you in Atlanta, and I won’t let anything hurt you now, or ever.”
She smiled, the corner of her lip trembling like she might reply. An unexpected look of concern showed on her face, like she didn’t like what he’d just said. He looked at her, nervous he’d done something wrong. She leaned closer and pressed her soft lips against his. Lingering in the kiss, she slid her free hand up, resting it on his chest. Shane was sure she could feel his heart pounding. Her touch and the taste of her mouth ignited a fire in him that burned away his anxiety.
His attention was drawn from everything around him, entirely focused on her. He wanted more than just the kiss, his head spinning with desire. He wanted to touch her, to press her against him, but he held back, afraid of moving too fast and pushing her away. She pulled her lips from his and smiled, sighing like she was resisting the urge to do more. Laying her head on his shoulder, she pulled his hand into her lap, squeezing it between her thighs, most of which were left exposed by her black running shorts. Her skin felt like heaven, and it made him dizzy to touch her. The flowery smell of whatever shampoo she’d found in the barracks mixed with the piney fragrance of the forest.
He struggled to relax and just sit quietly next to her, but the inferno she’d ignited in him made it hard to keep still, made it hard to breathe. Being this close to Kelly Douglas, inhaling her fragrance and feeling her touch—his wildest fantasies were coming true. He resisted the urge to turn her toward him and kiss her again, afraid of coming on too strong.
Kelly sighed, sounding like she might be as breathless as he was. Squeezing her legs together tighter, she pressed the soft inner flesh of her thighs against his hand. His heart raced even faster, and his stomach felt like it was filled with helium. A surge of heat started him sweating, and then he remembered the itty-bitty running shorts he was wearing. Suddenly terrified of what she’d think of what was happening, he cleared his throat and forced himself to think about the forest animals attacking, hoping fear would be a sufficient distraction.
“What?” Kelly lifted her head and looked at him, her cheeks flushed and her pupils dilated. Was she thinking the same thing?
“Awe, nothing,” he replied, gazing into the forest.
“We’re gonna be alright,” she whispered. “I don’t know how I know, but it’s for certain. I can tell you that.”
“For some reason,” he said, “I think you’re right.”
She laid her head on his shoulder again, and he leaned into her, forcing his mind to go blank and trying to just enjoy being near her. They sat in silence for a long time, until the shadows grew inky and began to spread through the forest, taking over as the light of the sun diminished. Shane smacked a stinging on his bare leg.
“We’d better head back,” he said. “The no-see-ums are comin’ out.”
“That’s the only thing I used to not like about the woods,” she replied, swatting at her face. “The darn bugs.”
The darkness concerned him too. Even if most animals wouldn’t attack them in the absence of the limbic manipulator, there were coyotes in these mountains. Even worse, there were cougars, though he’d only ever seen their paw prints. They stood on the log and jumped onto the hillside above, then blindly made their way between the trees back up to the base. About halfway back, Kelly slipped, and he grabbed her hand to keep her from falling. Once she regained her footing, he loosened his grip so she could let go, but she didn’t. Instead, she clung to him until they made it to the thick brush at the edge of the forest.
Shane pushed ahead and held the briars aside so Kelly could pass.
“Why, thank you, sir,” she said with an exaggerated southern-belle drawl, then curtseyed once she was beyond the thorns and on the gravel.
“My pleasure, ma’am,” he replied, tipping his pretend hat.
They laughed and walked through the narrow space between buildings, just as another helicopter came over the trees on the western side of the base. Shane shielded his face from the wind created by the chopper and watched it touch down. A shadowy figure, presumably Lily, crossed the tarmac and met seven more kids.
“I wonder how many are left,” Kelly said.
“I don’t know,” Shane replied. “I’m betting we’ve got a few new roommates inside.”
He opened the door to the barracks and followed her in, blinking at the stark fluorescent lighting. Tracy and Jules were sitting shoulder to shoulder in front of the large LCD screen, headphones on and eyes wide as they watched the Anunnaki annihilate a primitive army on some forsaken planet.
It really hadn’t sunk in that humans weren’t alone. There were other intelligent species on planets similar to Earth scattered across the universe. Shane diverted his gaze toward the back of the long room, unable to stomach any more information today. He and Kelly walked to the first set of quads and saw Laura lying in her rack, staring up at the bunk above.
“Any info on the new arrivals?” Shane asked.
“What?” She blinked and looked at him and Kelly. Her eyes were damp. He wondered if she’d been thinking about her parents, and felt guilty that he’d never cried over losing his dad.
“Oh, yeah.” She composed herself. “The Koreans moved in next to us, and a Russian team showed up shortly after.”
“Where’re Maurice and Steve?”
“I believe Maurice went to the chapel, and Steve’s grabbing a shower.”
Just then, a loud, metallic bang came from the bathroom, followed by a shout.
“What the heck?” Shane said, trotting toward the other end of the barracks.
He burst through the bathroom door, almost tripping on overturned metal shelves. Towels were scattered, and the room was filled with steam and Steve’s curses. The damp floor was tinged pink with blood.
“I�
��ll kill you if you ever do that again,” Steve yelled, his eyes wide with murderous fury.
He stood beyond the shelves, butt-naked and dripping water. The shower behind him still ran. Blood trickled out of his nose and hung off his chin. He had a tall, wiry, blond kid, who was wearing a towel around his waist, pressed against the white, tile wall, his forearm crushing the boy’s neck. Two other new boys were standing by, cheering them on and smiling wildly.
“Steve! Let him go,” Shane shouted.
“This piece of shit?” Steve returned, his eyes filled with murderous rage. “This piece of shit turned the cold water off while I was in the shower. I had soap on my face, and I got scalded. Can I ask you? What kind of an asshole does that? I’m gonna kill him.”
“No, you’re not,” Shane said firmly. “Now let him go.”
The other two backed up, mischievous grins on their faces. Steve looked at Shane, his expression wild and dangerous. He tensed, about to launch onto his friend to keep him from committing manslaughter. Steve took his weight off the boy’s neck, and the blond kid dropped to the floor, gasping for air and groping his windpipe.
“We meant no harm,” one of the shorter, dark-haired boys said with a thick accent. “This just good Russian greeting, that’s all.”
The other boys cackled like hyenas. Shane had seen Steve murderously angry before—these boys had no idea how close they’d come to getting killed.
Steve snatched a towel off the pile on the floor and wrapped it around his waist.
“Well,” he snarled, glaring at them. “If you do that again, I’ll give all three of you a good American broken neck!”
“Okay, okay, big, strong guy. We are sorry. Congratulations on your shower.”
