by Carol Riggs
Inside the unit, a male voice murmurs a question.
“I heard a high-pitched noise,” the woman says. “Probably just darkwings fighting. Let’s get to bed. It’s late, and morning always feels like it comes too early.”
The door clicks closed. Exhaling, I shake the tension from my hands.
Marnica elbows me. “You should’ve used the tranq.”
“I wanted him to die fast without sending out a warning,” I say in a low voice. I wave to tell Blake and Shelly we’re clear, and they take off in opposite directions.
The taut feel of Marnica’s hand on my forearm stops me cold. “Jay. This is it. We’re heading to our units.”
“Yeah.” My lungs aren’t working right. It’ll be 13:00 way too soon.
“You sure you don’t wanna switch with me and go after my parents instead?”
I hesitate. That would be loads easier than targeting Mom and Dad. But this isn’t about easy. This is about protecting Rachel and Tammi, and knowing how to navigate around my darkened unit better than Marnica. I don’t have a raging revenge wish like Blake. It’s just something that has to be done, and I’m the one who should do it.
“I’ll be fine.” I hear the doubt in my voice and stand straighter to convince her.
She squeezes my arm. “Just remember who they are, not who you thought they were for the last eighteen years. Good luck.”
“Same to you.” I look back to check that no smoke is coming from the trapdoor, and slip away from her. I work my way north, skirting the southern dwelling compound, even though most of the aliens should be sleeping. I keep a sharp lookout for guards in case some are scattered inside the zone.
On the main road, I head north. Fiddlewings rub their membranes together in the fields, shrieking like violinists in a demonic grand finale. The double moons squint their thin eyes over the countryside. When I reach the northern dwelling compound, I aim for my unit and sneak into the side yard. I crouch behind a giant sweetbush. I don’t have an opening device for the doors anymore, but Mom usually leaves windows open to catch the night breezes this time of year. Less than a meter above my head, my bedroom window is wide open.
That will be my point of entry when the time comes.
My heartbeat spikes into a faster tempo, and I check my wristcomm. 12:43. Seventeen minutes before our coordinated attack. Phantom-like gusts of air stir the hairs on my arms. The huge sweetbush blossoms near my nose are so heavily scented my nose itches and wants to sneeze. I glance down at the bulbous shape of my flamer tucked into my waistband, with the shadows of its spikes looking wicked against my sweatshirt. My tranq sits in its utility belt.
A wristcomm and a gun. Just what I always wanted after my Testing.
But not quite like this.
At my backbone, the home I grew up in stays dim and quiet. Minutes trickle by and pile up like something toxic under my skin. At 12:58 I stand. I ease the screen from my old window, hoist myself into the opening, and land with a light thud on the floor. I stop to listen. Was that loud enough to wake my fake parents?
It’s not totally quiet, mostly due to outside noises. A pond-hopper rasps in the distance, along with the chirping fiddlewings. An odd creak or two, perhaps the unit flexing in the wind. I squint into the gloom and make out an empty crib standing where my bed used to be. A bin sits on the floor with a teddy bear head sticking out, looking freakishly wide-eyed. It’s my favorite bear from when I was five.
I pull the shampoo bottle from my sweatshirt pocket, flick it open, and pad to the door. I turn the knob. In the hall, I see nothing. I tiptoe around the creaky spot and past the couch, then over to Mom and Dad’s bedroom. The door to their room is ajar. Rhythmic, hoarse sounds come from inside, the unnerving slumber of alien vermal-lobsters. Gathering my courage, I push the door open wider. The zone tower sends out a hollow count through the open windows.
13:00.
My brain registers only one ten-legged mound on my parents’ bed at the same time a light flicks on behind me. I whirl to find Dad in his human form standing in the illuminated kitchen doorway, frowning and holding a laser pistol.
It’s pointed straight at me.
Chapter Thirty-Two
I stare at the cold efficiency of the laser pistol barrel. Breaking into a sweat, I clench the shampoo bottle. My heart revs into a staccato of beats so fast they blur together. Where did Dad get that gun—did Farrow give it to him after the scavenger team attack, suspecting I might come back? If it comes to a quick draw between us, I’ll lose. I don’t have either my tranq or the flamer drawn.
Dad’s frown deepens. “I couldn’t sleep and got up for a cup of broth. Then I heard a noise. What are you doing here? You know banished kids get shot when they return.”
My mind races. I shrug, as if life and death aren’t hanging in the balance of my next words. This can’t be happening. He should be in bed, asleep. I don’t want to kill him like this, and I certainly don’t want him to kill me. It would’ve been hard enough to end his life with the shampoo while he was sleeping. But now? He looks human. Like Dad.
“This is my home,” I say, trying not to let my hands shake. “I wanted to come back.”
“Why?” He keeps his voice low. “Are you stealing something? Earlier there was a report about a missing guard by the southern dwelling compound. Did you tranq and hide him?”
“Uh…yeah, I stashed him somewhere. That’s how I got inside Sanctuary.”
Dad switches his gaze to the flamer at my waist. His voice turns hard. “Where did you get that?”
“In the outer zones.” Oh, major crap. No hiding anything now. I need to draw this flamer, but I’ll get shot first, I know I will. It’ll be a searing, short-range pulse. There’ll be a lot pain. I’ll die. I’ll fail my mission.
His gaze flicks toward the half-open bedroom door, where Mom sleeps in her alien form. “You know who we are.” It’s a statement rather than a question.
“Yes.” I grit my teeth. Now he’s going to use his laser on me. A distant part of my brain wonders how fast I can snatch one of my weapons and if I can aim well after he shoots me and I’m wounded. Can I minimize my injury by leaping to one side first? Even if I manage to hit him with my own weapon, I’ll still have to deal with Mom when she wakes. Assuming I’m still alive.
Dad’s attention remains on my flamer. “I hoped it wasn’t you involved in that scavenger team attack in New Paradise. It seems I was wrong. Did you come here to kill me and your mother?”
My head goes light and fuzzy. Could I flame him right now in cold blood, face to face? Could I incinerate the alien who tucked me into bed each night as a kid, who taught me to ride a hoverbike, and uses Dad’s smile? “I—I’m not sure I can kill anyone. But I need to protect Rachel and Tammi.”
“Rachel and Tammi are not in immediate danger.”
“Immediate.” I’m unable to keep the sarcasm from my voice or the ache from sharpening in my chest. “Not until they turn eighteen. You lied to me, Dad. You lied to Chad and me, Rachel and Tammi. All we are to you is food, a bunch of cattle to be butchered and stashed in the freezer. Or ground into powder.”
Dad gives a brief nod. “I see you know everything somehow. But you’ve worked with the animals around here. Some cows become your companions, your friends, don’t they? Worrels and chickens, too. You grow fond of them as I have grown fond of you, Jay.”
“I’m not a worrel or a cow or a chicken,” I say with a scowl.
“I hated to see you turn eighteen, son.” His voice is earnest. “You’re my favorite human. I truly regretted the need to kill you. I didn’t want to hunt you with a flamer after your ceremony, either, which was my right as the father of a banished child. You managed to escape—why didn’t you stay away?”
Tension crackles the air. I imagine the words “exterminate the aliens” are etched across my face, my goal plain for him to see. My fingers twitch on the shampoo bottle.
“What’s that you’re holding?” he asks.
�
�Just shampoo.” I set it by a lamp on the end table, as if it’s not important. And at this point, maybe it isn’t since my target is clear across the room. Only the flamer will help me now. The tranq is too slow-acting. I try to inch my hand closer to the flamer, but I can’t get my muscles to cooperate. Flippin’ asteroids, it’s Dad standing there in front of me.
He starts to speak but cocks his head as though he’s listening to something. “I’ve been informed that a few minutes ago, three separate teens were caught sneaking around in their units instead of sleeping. I need to wake your mother since the alarm didn’t rouse her into consciousness. I assume you’re working with those rebel teens?”
“Coincidence.”
“Don’t give me that,” he snaps, sounding more like Mom. “I didn’t raise you to cause trouble.”
I meet his accusing glare with one of my own. My answer rises up past my fear. “You raised me to be loyal, hard-working, and kind. That’s what I’m being. I’m protecting my sisters and the other kids in Sanctuary. They deserve to live.”
Conflicting emotions writhe across his face. “I’m going to report you to the Master and I won’t hesitate to kill you if he orders it. I have to be loyal, too.”
Words fail me. No. If he does that, Rachel and Tammi will never know I came back. They’ll only know I’ve broken my promise to return. I can’t let them down like that. I’ve given my word. For the sake of my sisters, I won’t let it end here.
Dad tilts his head to listen again. In a flash, I know what to do. I seize the lamp from the end table and hurl it at him, the shade twanging to one side. He lets out an angry shout as the lamp crashes into him. I spin and streak across the entryway. The humming pulse of his laser vibrates near my leg as I throw open the door.
Breathing hard, I flee into the street. It’s a miracle I’m not injured—I still seem to be in one piece.
Will Dad pursue me, try to kill me? Or will Farrow order him to injure me and capture me alive? I wish I’d had the guts to risk drawing my flamer, but Dad looked too human, and I’m no use to anyone dead. Especially my sisters.
I don’t look back. I keep racing down the permawalk.
The night closes in around me, feeling more sinister and lethal than before. Shadowy human figures dart between units, and my heart kicks into high speed as a bulky alien shape appears in the doorway of a unit near me.
I duck behind a hedge. The alien lurches along the street in a grotesque walk-crawl, balancing on its lower four legs while the upper six wave as though tasting the air. In another few seconds, the topmost pair of legs thicken and the middle legs shrink away into nothing. The lowest pair widen and grow long. Boots materialize. The snout and beady eyes shrivel into a human face, and the metamorphosis into a human adult male is complete, clothes and all. The man strides along at a faster rate, unhindered by its alien body.
I recognize the man. It’s Misty’s father.
Where’s Misty? Is she with Harrel somewhere?
No time to think about that. I’ve just seen her father in his hideous true form, and he’s not Dad. I can do this. I make myself leap from the hedge and fire with my flamer, the shot screaming out and hitting him in the ribs. He thrashes and sends up a screeching cry. I fire again at closer range. He falls to the ground, smoke rising up in putrid billows. These aliens are predators. Invaders, like ground rodents that need to be eliminated to safeguard the gardens. There’s no time to think or feel anymore—I just have to act. My new goal is Farrow, to destroy the leader of these beasts. And I’m going to take out as many aliens as I can on my way there.
I leave the body and dash toward the commander’s dwelling, keeping an eye out for more adults.
When I reach the main road, a vehicle barrels toward me with its front lights glaring. I dive into the side bushes. The UHV zips past me and screeches to a halt. Guards jump out and stream into the dwelling compound, the shadows of their tranq rifles jutting into the air. I grip my flamer. Six guards. I’ll be lucky to take down one or two before I get shot. And when they realize it’s me, they’ll use laser instead of tranq guns.
I dart to the empty UHV. The starter device sits in its port. I start to toss it so the guards will be stranded, then think better of it. I climb in, activate the power, and buzz the window half down. I’ve driven balers and tiller equipment and watched Farrow drive. This should be about the same, except there’s no flux module to adjust.
Cranking the wheel, I put the UHV into a fast forward surge. I careen down the street. Figures lie collapsed on lawns, the dim outlines of girls and guys. Tranquilized friends, I hope, and not dead ones. A guard standing on the permawalk glances up at my vehicle. I fire my flamer out the window. The guard goes down in a roar of flames.
I target the next guard and send him also into a fiery death. He shrieks and writhes. What on freaking Liberty am I doing? This isn’t me. It can’t be. I’m in a grisly nightmare.
I have to stop thinking about it. No one will be saved if I shut down or freak out.
I yell at a boy gaping at the bonfire of alien fur and shriveling appendages. “Grab their weapons and hand them out!”
The boy scurries into action. In my rearview screen, I see him kick a rifle away from the body and touch it to see if it’s hot.
A guard in the street sees me coming and switches to his laser pistol. He aims. Definitely laserfire this time. I throw myself sideways across the seat and hear the pulse melting a crack across the windshield. A second later, a horrible thump sounds at the front of the UHV. I whip upright as the vehicle whines to a near stop. The guard is sprawled across the pavement, groaning and rolling. At the same time, another guard rushes the side of my vehicle with his gun raised.
I speed forward and swerve. The shot burns across the back windshield. A glance at my side screen shows the guard collapsing as he’s brought down by a girl’s pistol, both their bodies reddish in the glow of the rear lights. My UHV is dipping more than hovering at this point. I de-activate the cells, dock to the ground, and pocket the starter device.
Backtracking a few units, I fry the guard that my UHV hit. Coughing, I step away from the smoky mess of his body. It’s a horrible way to die, but I don’t have my shampoo bottle anymore, no way to smother his throat vents for a faster, less painful death. I look up to see another vehicle packed with guards wheeling onto the street.
“Look out!” a girl shouts. “Aim for the windows and lud-cell reservoirs if you have a pistol.”
A clammy chill washes over me. This could be a massacre if they’re not using tranq guns anymore—the guards have more weapons, plus a vehicle for protection. No one except me has a flamer. I hurdle a bush and run full speed toward the cover of a tree near the UHV. An older boy blasts out a laser shot that bursts one of the UHV’s front lights. The guards fire into the shadows.
“Take cover!” another girl screams.
My friends scatter, the guards’ shots whiz out. Someone across the street wails in agony. Another human figure falls. I was right—the aliens have given up salvaging the rebels and these shots aren’t tranqs. Don’t think about it. Don’t feel. I aim my flamer into the driver’s open window and fire. The plug catches the driver in the neck. I fire again into a rear side window. In seconds, the interior of the UHV is a blazing inferno. Guards yell and tumble out, only to be shot by my friends hiding in the bushes.
Someone collects weapons from the dead guards. I make sure someone is tending to the wailing boy, and lope off. I need to get back to my earlier destination: Commander Farrow’s unit. I’ve walked two streets in that direction when my wristcomm lights up.
I tap to connect. “Lawton.”
“Jay-Jay, is that you?” Leonard’s voice sounds scratchier and higher than usual. “I’ve been looking all over for you. Marnica gave me her wristcomm and ran off. Where are you?”
“Near Harrel’s unit.”
“That’s close. Meet me on the corner by the main road.”
When I get there, I spot a figure skittering
in the darkness. “Leonard, are you okay?” I call.
“No!” he says, sidling up to me. “Some freakin’ alien could’ve accidentally shot me, even though they know I’m on a mission.”
“What’s going on?”
Leonard clutches my arm, his bony fingers digging deep. “They’ve got my youngest brother at Farrow’s unit. Both your sisters, too.”
My blood halts in my veins. “What?”
“Your dad reported he saw you. Farrow is scorchin’ mad. He figures you plotted this war, so he sent guards to Peyton’s unit to see if she knew where you were. Since she wasn’t there, they came and got me and my brother.” Leonard’s lower lip trembles, visible even in the dim moonlight. “Your parents are at Farrow’s unit with your sisters. He wants me to bring you back there.”
My legs threaten to drop me right there in the street. Farrow has Rachel and Tammi. That can’t be good. “What does he want?”
“Heck if I know,” Leonard says with a moan. “Probably to kill you. Or kill me. Kill our siblings. Get you to stop the uprising. Gloat. All of the above.”
I try to slow my whirling thoughts. I have to keep Rachel and Tammi safe. Leonard and his baby brother, too. I start off for Farrow’s dwelling. “Do you have your shampoo bottle?”
Leonard runs to catch up. “No. After I took care of my fake mom and dad, I left it on the kitchen counter. Ten minutes later, the guards barged in.”
“Take this.” I hand him my tranq. “It won’t fire as far as a rifle, but it’s better than nothing. I’ll use the flamer and we’ll ambush the place.”
“No way, brainvoid! There’s a pair of armed guards at Farrow’s front and back doors. They’ll kill your sisters and my brother if we try anything.”
My shoulders sag. He’s right. We can’t take chances. I swear profusely and keep walking. I’ll have to think of something when we get there, play it by ear. Meanwhile, I connect with Shelly on my wristcomm and tell her where we’re heading. “They’ll confiscate our weapons at Farrow’s, so I’ll leave my flamer and tranq under Lieutenant Simpson’s hedge.”
