The Others

by Jeremy Robinson

  “None of you are fully human?” Lindo asks.

  “That makes you happy?”

  “I’m sorry,” Godin says. “But none of this is possible. Empaths? Genetic experiments? UFOs? Cattle mutilations? Aliens? Someone level with me. What the fuck is really going on?”

  His doubt is understandable. I’ve been doing my best to roll with the stream of surreal punches thrown my way, but my willingness to believe what I’m seeing is being stretched to its limits. I think my lack of knowledge regarding science fiction culture insulates me from the ramifications of these things potentially being reality, but it doesn’t take a lot of imagination to picture deadly government conspiracies and doomsday scenarios.

  “There are no aliens,” Jacob says.

  “Pssh.” Lindo’s disbelief about Jacob’s lack of belief in the unbelievable is borderline angry. “Bullshit. In addition to the long list of phenomena the sheriff just mentioned, there is a well-documented history of alien abduction around the world.”

  “And crop circles,” Jacob adds. “Livestock mutilations. Missing time. Scoop marks. Cybernetic implants—with which you’re familiar. It’s ingenuine.”

  “I’ve seen all of it with my own eyes,” Lindo says. “It’s real.”

  “The validity of those phenomena does not prove the reality of extraterrestrial beings, and while some of them are legitimate, many more of them are like the horses let loose into the desert.”

  “You’re losing me,” Lindo says, patience still waning.

  “A smokescreen,” I say.

  “A distraction,” Jacob adds. “All of it pointing…”

  “We can’t see you,” Wini reminds him, but I’m sure he’s pointing up.

  The ceiling light snaps on revealing Jacob with one hand on the switch and the other pointed toward the ceiling, and outer space higher above.

  Young flinches upon seeing the boy’s pale face, large blue eyes, and big black pupils. Jacob glances toward him, registering the pastor’s reaction with a subtle frown.

  “You’re being told a dramatic narrative,” Jacob says, “and you’re believing it. Don’t feel bad. There have been a variety of deceptions told throughout history, all of them pointing away from the truth. Magical fairies and leprechauns. Demigods. Demons. Witches. Not everyone believes them, but those who do often make the truth look like a joke. Aliens are just the most recent incarnation meant to distract humanity from the truth.”

  “And that is?” Lindo asks.

  “They’re not from another planet, the future, or another dimension,” the boy says. “They’re from here.”

  “From Earth,” Lindo says. “You want us to believe another sentient race of beings evolved on Earth? That we’ve been sharing the planet?”

  “I don’t claim to have all the answers—only what the man who claimed to be my father taught us, which was also steeped in untruth—but I know enough.” Jacob’s starting to sound annoyed now, too. I think he’s unaccustomed to not being taken seriously.

  “I’ve heard enough,” Godin says, opening his door. “I’m going to keep watch. Make sure no one is sneaking up on us.”

  It’s a good idea, so I just nod.

  “I’ll join you,” Young says, tugging on his door’s handle. Both of them look ready to bolt, though I don’t think they will.

  Jacob watches the two men head toward the distant oval of light far behind the vehicle. Then he turns to me. “I’m not sure that’s wise.”

  “Not getting ambushed is—”

  Jacob holds up his hand, cutting me short with a surge of worry that I can feel. He doesn’t just absorb people’s emotions, he also projects his own. I wonder if he knows that.

  “You misunderstood me,” he says. “When I said they were from here.”

  When my gut twists from understanding, Jacob nods.

  “What?” Wini asks. While she’s not an empath, she’s good at reading me.

  “They aren’t on Earth’s surface.” I turn forward, looking deeper into the cave. “They’re beneath it.”

  20

  Lindo kicks open his door and slides out into the darkness. Like Jacob, he can see in the dark, though for very different reasons. Where Jacob was modified before birth and without a choice, Lindo subjected himself to technological advances that make me squirm.

  “Are they here now?” I ask Jacob.

  He shrugs. “I’m not able to feel them.”

  “Because they’re protected?” Wini asks.

  “Because they have no emotions…I think.” Jacob tilts his head, staring at me. Then he turns to Lindo, who’s moving deeper into the cave, lit by the SUV’s beams. “You’re worried about him. But you don’t trust him, either. Your emotions are at odds.”

  “Honey,” Wini says, “You just figured out what took me a year to learn.”

  “Are you his mother?” Jacob asks.

  Wini chuckles, but doesn’t deny it. I’m not an empath, but I know that’s how she feels about me. Wini never had children of her own, and when she found me, broken and wounded, her maternal instincts kicked in and haven’t faded. Not sure I would have survived the past five years without her.

  “And that pleases you,” Jacob says to me.

  I reach out and take Wini’s hand. She has tears in her eyes.

  “I think…” Jacob looks sad. “I think I have not understood the concept of family until now. With some of my brothers and sisters to a degree…” He looks back at the girls and boys huddled behind him. “…but we have learned to not trust those to whom our care has been entrusted.”

  “Harry,” I guess. “Your fath—”

  “Not our father,” one of the girls says, the same one who spoke up in the barn. She’s the youngest of them, and if she’s anything like Jacob—not fully human—I can’t see it. Her dark eyes remind me of Isabella.

  “What’s your name?” Wini asks.

  “Hannah,” she says and then she glances at her brothers and sisters. “Don’t bother with the others. They don’t talk.”

  “Don’t,” I say, “or—”

  “Can’t,” Jacob confirms. “We don’t know what about them isn’t…human, but I believe the changes made to them left them without vocal cords. My eyes, for example, allow me to see in the dark, and at great distances, but my vision is monochrome.”

  “You don’t see any color?” Wini asks.

  “I see auras,” he says, “around people. A visual representation of their emotional state. So I understand what color is, but the world as I see it is in shades of gray.”

  I want to ask how much of Hannah isn’t human, but I suspect that’s a question she won’t want to answer. And maybe, like the four mute kids, she doesn’t know. Of the six, only Jacob shows outward signs of not being human, and that’s the only reason I’m buying into this insanity. Conspiracies, mercs, cults—all of that fits into my worldview. Aliens that aren’t aliens, hybrids, empaths—not so much. But I tend to believe what I can see, and touch, and hear, and there’s no way that Jacob is faking his ability to read people’s emotions, and I’m pretty sure he’s not wearing makeup or a mask. It’s a hard pill to swallow, like choking down an egg, but cases aren’t solved by being close-minded.

  Jacob looks up, eyes closed. “They’re confused. Angry. Distant.” He opens his eyes and looks at me. “They’re moving on. We have time.”

  “Time?” Wini asks. “For what?”

  “The questions glowing blue around him.” His face scrunches up like he’s smelled something foul. “Some of the questions. You’re not ready for the one I can’t answer.”

  I don’t bother asking what he’s talking about.

  I know damn well.

  The photo of Isabella and her mother has taken a beating, but their faces are still visible. When I show it to Jacob, his stare remains blank, showing no recognition. “This is who we’re looking for.”

  Hannah leans forward, scanning the photo. Her eyes widen. She points to Isabella. “She was at the ranch.”


  “Is she still?” I ask, wondering how wise it would be to attempt a raid. There’s no way to know if Harry or any of his gun-toting cult family are still alive.

  Hannah shakes her head. “She was with the group they took last night. But she was…different.”

  “Like you different?” I ask.

  Another head shake. “A fighter. She escaped. Nearly reached the sheriff—he was looking into a mutilation, being conditioned to look for the truth in the wrong direction. Harry nearly shot her. They caught her later that night.”

  “Where is she now?” I ask, feeling hopeful.

  “We’re a small piece of a much larger picture,” Jacob says. “As near as I can tell, the ranch is just one of many waystations for trafficking resources.”

  “By resources, you mean people,” Wini says.

  “I do,” Jacob says.

  I face forward, melt into my seat and let out a long sigh.

  “This disturbs you?” Jacob asks.

  I don’t have an answer for the question, but I’m sure he can see the mixture of rage, sadness, and confusion radiating from me. Human trafficking is hard enough to stop when it’s being performed by other humans. But this…this is too much. What can we do against powers that a day ago I would have found laughable?

  “You’re despairing,” Jacob says. He sounds disappointed. “They’re not perfect. They’re not gods. Or magical. Or even beyond your comprehension. They make mistakes, and their collaborators are human.”

  It’s the last point that gives me the most hope. Human error has toppled empires, computer systems, and governments. It has led to the conclusion of every case I’ve ever solved. Where there are people, there are flaws. And where there are flaws, there is weakness. “Like Harry.”

  “Only fools sell out their own species,” Jacob says.

  “You might be surprised,” Wini says.

  “Although the man who pretended to be my father was at a disadvantage. By the time he was my age, he was fully indoctrinated in the belief system passed down through generations.”

  “Mormonism?” Wini asks.

  Jacob gives a nod. “The fundamentalist variety. Modern Mormonism has disavowed and forgotten their origins, though the shift was not by choice, and forced when an error in judgment led to the U.S. government’s intervention in the Others’ plans.”

  The vehicle goes silent. Wini and I just stare.

  “You’re waiting for an explanation?” Jacob asks, trying to decipher our reaction.

  “No shit,” Wini says, causing the mute kids to gasp. Wini twists around to address the children. “You all can speak however you want now. No one will hurt you for it. Not while I’m around.”

  Hannah smiles, but the rest remain huddled at the fringe of the dome light’s reach.

  “I don’t know the details,” Jacob says. “Only what Harry taught the family, and how he felt when he did—superior with a trace of guilt.”

  “Guilt?” I have trouble picturing a delusional cult leader feeling guilty.

  “He knows it’s a lie,” Jacob says.

  I’m pretty sure I know where this is leading, but the political correctness drilled into me by modern society is telling me to block my ears and shout, ‘La, la, la, laaa,’ like one of those hear-no-evil monkeys. But the truth is the only way I’m going to recover Isabella. “What’s a lie?”

  “The very foundations of—” Jacob gasps, eyes widening. He’s looking through the windshield, eyes on where Lindo had been just moments before.

  “Did something happen? Are they here?” Visions of bug-eyed aliens crawling from holes and dragging Lindo away churn in my imagination.

  “He found something,” Jacob says. “He’s…excited.”

  I don’t know what Jacob can see. Maybe Lindo. Maybe just his colorful aura. But he’s looking at something. I, on the other hand, can’t see shit. I flip the high beams on, which helps illuminate the smooth-walled cave, but Lindo is either beyond the light’s reach or my eyes’ ability to focus.

  “You still have your purse?” I ask Wini.

  She hands the heavy, overpacked bag to me. I open it, revealing boxes of ammunition, which I use to refill the Beretta’s magazine.

  When I slap the magazine back inside the weapon, Jacob flinches.

  “Sorry,” I tell him. Kid has endured a lot. More than most people in a lifetime.

  “It wasn’t you,” he says, looking up again. “They’re coming back. They’re…suspicious, but still confused.”

  The driver’s side door whips open and I come very close to shooting Young in the face. Everyone in the car, sans Jacob, who no doubt felt Young’s approach, flinches back.

  “Sorry,” Young says. “We can hear the chopper. They’re coming back.”

  “Already knew,” I say, collecting myself.

  Young glances back at Jacob, but turns away as though the kid was Medusa. “Right...”

  “And next time you approach a vehicle in the dark, with frightened and armed people inside, do yourself a favor and knock.” I waggle the gun still pointed toward him.

  He blanches at the sight of the weapon.

  “Hey!” Lindo’s voice echoes from the distance. “Come see this!”

  I don’t think anyone in a helicopter will be able to hear Lindo’s voice, even if it is being amplified by the cave, but I don’t want to take the risk. I flash the high beams a few times to acknowledge we’ve heard him and then turn back to Wini. “You okay here?”

  She pats her revolver. “Already reloaded.”

  I open my door and am halfway out when Jacob says, “I’m coming, too.”

  “You don’t have to,” I tell him, trying to hide the fact that I’d rather he didn’t. Not because he frightens me, but because I think he should be resting, or processing, or whatever people who were recently freed from a cult’s stable normally need to do. I suppose that could include distraction. Hell, I’ve been doing that for five years.

  I wave for him to follow and step out. He’s already sliding over the front seat by the time I turn around to close the door.

  “Thanks,” he says, and slips to the cave floor beside me.

  When I close the door, he takes my hand. “Do you mind?”

  “Course not,” I say. “I hold alien-human hybrid kid hands every day.”

  When he chuckles, I ask, “What color is sarcasm?”

  “Pink,” he says as we walk into the SUV’s light, our shadows stretching into the distance. “And remember, they’re not aliens.”

  “Right…are they like a sister race?” I ask. “Did they evolve alongside us?”

  “Long before us,” Jacob says. “Well, before you. Before humans.”

  “You’re human,” I tell him. “More human than the man pretending to be your father was.”

  He grins at that. It’s subtle but there. I wonder what color his aura would be.

  “You’re not going to tell us that they’re angels?” Young asks, sounding defensive.

  “I don’t discount the potential existence of a creator…” Jacob’s preface is very diplomatic. “…but at times, yes. Whatever narrative helps conceal their true agenda is adopted and promoted. Right now that happens to be aliens in UFOs visiting from other star systems. In fact, before we were interrupted in the car, I was going to tell Mr. Dan about—”

  Jacob’s hand squeezes mine tight. He’s staring into the cave’s depths. “Lindo found something else. Something that scares him. A lot.”

  21

  Walking deeper into the cave, I get a sense for how Jacob must feel all the time. The air is heavy with dire potential, pressing on me as though the Earth itself is radiating menace.

  I don’t want to know what Lindo found.

  I don’t want to believe that aliens are real, or that they’re not aliens at all.

  I want to go home. To forget all this. To finally open the envelope in my pocket and move on with my life.

  I’m ready for life to be simple again.

  But it ne
ver will be. Not for me. I know too much. And my conscience won’t let me run away. Even when Jacob and his siblings are safe. Even when Isabella is reunited with her mother. As long as there are people being taken against their will, for God knows what, I’ll track them down and set them free…if such a thing is even possible.

  We’re facing forces whose true power is unknown and whose existence has me questioning everything. I’m untethered, grasping for a handhold as I float out into the infinite.

  “I have you,” Jacob says, squeezing my hand again.

  “Huh?” His words shake me out of my thoughts. I heard what he said, but I’m struggling to process what he’s really saying.

  “You’re kind of freaking out,” he says.

  When it comes to hiding my emotions from people around me, I’m a pro. Literally. I’ve practiced the skill. Keeps a murderer, or a cheating wife, or a kidnapper from seeing me for what I am—their undoing. But to Jacob, I’m an open book, full of black-and-white pictures with rainbow auras betraying my carefully guarded emotions.

  If he wasn’t looking up at me with his big, not-really-human, but still innocent looking eyes, I’d probably be furious. Instead, I smile and relax. “I’m supposed to be the one comforting you.”

  “Why?” he asks. “Because I’m younger than you?”

  “Well, yeah.”

  “I’ve been steeped in this life since my creation. You’re new to it. Take some time to adjust.”

  “Sure your father isn’t Dr. Phil?” I ask.

  Young laughs, but Jacob just looks confused.

  “He’s a TV psychologist,” I explain.

  “He gives wise advice?”

  “Meh,” I say. “I was joking. Thought my aura would have given that away.”

  “You’re kind of a mess to look at,” Jacob says. “A lot of colors, all the time.” He smiles, but I’m not sure he’s joking. It’s a pretty good description of my emotional state.

  Jacob leans forward to look around me, at Young. “Him not so much.”

  Even I can sense Young’s growing apprehension. I’m fairly shaken by what we’ve encountered in the past two days, and redefining my concepts of reality is challenging. But my belief system isn’t nearly as deeply rooted as the pastor’s. I have no idea what the existence of a separately evolved race of sentient Earthlings—who sometimes pose as angels—means for him. Maybe nothing. Maybe everything.