Paul
Paul got off the phone with Matty, feeling actual hope. The kid had a brain on him, no question. Using the drone to fly over a rope, he never would have thought of it. It seemed workable, and if done correctly, it might be possible to do it with the other houses.
For starters, someone might have better supplies for Sharon, although he suspected all he’d get at the Stocking household was vodka and the middle finger. Sharon needed help from somewhere, though. Her leg seemed to have stopped bleeding, but she could hardly move and was getting weaker by the moment. She was another problem he’d need to solve, but how to work on the riddle when she refused to let him tell anyone? She stubbornly insisted this would all be over soon that the police would come and then she’d be fine in the hospital. Paul had his doubts.
This was day two, and he’d settled into the idea that no help was coming. He’d spent another night watching videos and the news. Everyone was calling these things aliens as impossible as that sounded. No one had heard from president since his speech yesterday. All the highways and roads were inaccessible. The police hid in their buildings, same as everyone else.
There was an awful video he couldn’t stop watching, and he hoped Matty didn’t see it. A younger guy and his girlfriend in a car, somewhere down south on a crowded and congested highway. The couple had been uploading videos non-stop, a single story from a library of millions, but Paul couldn’t look away from this one.
They were one of the few to capture the initial attack. When the aliens spilled from the rip in the sky, they pulled over to the side of the highway to watch the spectacle. This, more than anything else, saved them from dying in the first hour. The aliens seemed attracted to movement, and they fired on any car that was moving or driving away. Any car in park, they seemed content to leave alone.
The younger guy, Rick was his name, held his phone up to capture what he could. His shaking hands only managed blurry images, but the multiple explosions and cacophony of screams told the story well enough.
Rick and his girlfriend didn’t move and were rewarded for it, in the short term. Similar to what Paul and his family were dealing with, the aliens hovered above the remaining cars on the highway, waiting for people to do something, and Rick filmed it all. On the first afternoon, a man in a sports car made a run for it. He opened the door and rolled out, going for the thin scrub brush that lined the highway on either side. The aliens struck immediately. He made it perhaps eight feet, tops, before two attacked, hitting with their lasers that never missed.
Paul watched that video multiple times although he couldn’t bear to keep the volume up. The abrupt screams from a human getting shot to pieces was too overwhelming. Clues lived in the images though, and he forced himself to keep going.
Firstly, not all the aliens attacked: only two. He could see others hovering in the sky, unconcerned about the actions of one person. It made him think a distraction wouldn’t be possible. If all the aliens had swarmed, maybe there would be a way to get them to group up, but given the majority ignored what happened, it meant they were too smart, or too well-programmed, to be tricked by something like that.
Secondly, the man took five steps. Paul watched that part over and over, focusing on his legs and timing it. Five steps. 3.23 seconds. No time at all. The moment he was out of the car, they killed him. So, the thought of making a dash to Krista next door or even to the tree house was out. Five steps were not enough to work with.
Lastly, Rick filmed the whole thing with the car window open. Not much, only half way, just enough for him to stick his hand out. But the dots didn’t attack that exposed hand, they left it alone.
However these things operated, their instructions seemed straightforward. If the humans stayed inside, even if “inside” meant the interior of a stationary car, leave them alone. If they tried to escape by driving or moving or stepping outside, they were fair game to murder.
Lots of information, but no way to turn it into action.
Rick’s last upload had been ten hours ago. Paul did not understand what that meant. Did Rick run out of battery life? Decide to make a break for it even though that looked like suicide? Maybe two days in a car in the burning hot sun was too much. So many gruesome thoughts. He pushed them all back and focused on the plan. Get the rope to his kids.
He found the four-propeller drone in the basement, beneath a container of Abby’s stuffed animals. Flicking it on, the power light flashed to life. It still had charge. He had bought the dumb thing on a whim, a distraction for him and the kids. Crazy to think it might save their lives.
He straightened, looking at the basement wall that held all the family pictures. It was a careless collage, neither him nor Krista having the patience or skill to make it symmetrical. Still, all their favorites were there. Him on his wedding day, trying to be cool, leaning with his back against a wall, wearing a goofy smile. The kids on vacation, in mid-jump on a beach, reaching for a giant ball that hung in the air above them. One of Krista, when she was younger, his favorite. She stared at the camera with that glare that was equal parts vulnerable and defiant. Her hair was shorter back then, but she could never get the curls under control.
When was the last time he told her he loved her? He couldn’t even remember. But he must have said it recently. It wasn’t possible he had gone so long he couldn’t conjure a memory of the words. Paul didn’t tend toward introspection, but he was consumed by a physical ache to hug his wife one more time. He’d never let go, and he’d never let it be this long again without telling her he loved her, he cherished her, and that she was his best friend.
“Did you find it?” John came down the stairs, interrupting his thoughts.
“Right here.” He held up the drone, with the control under one arm.
“I found a long length of rope in your garage. That place is a cluttered mess, Paul. You need to keep it clean.”
John looked so sincere, so serious, that Paul had to swallow crazy laughter that threatened to pop from his mouth.
“I will for sure get on top of that, John. In the meantime, let’s see if we can get this rope to the kids.”
“I cleared a space. You said you don’t think these things will attack even if the garage door is open?”
“I don’t think so.” Paul had told John his theory, that the aliens would leave them alone if they stayed in the house. “To be safe though, we’ll stay at the back.”
They made their way into the garage where John had carved out a small space amidst the clutter and chaos. Paul sat the tiny drone down and checked all the components. The battery seemed charged, it was getting a signal from the remote he’d use to control it, and there were no obvious signs of breakage on the propellers.
John handed him one end of the rope that connected to a neatly-spooled pile. It was bright yellow, the kind you’d use for camping. Paul recalled buying it some years back when he’d thought, briefly, about taking the kids on an outing. Krista hadn’t been able to get away from work, so they never went through with it.
Using duct tape, Paul attached one end of the rope to the underside of the drone and tested the balance. It seemed like it would be light enough so it wouldn’t interrupt steering, but then again, Paul had no idea what he was doing.
“Okay, I’m going to let Matty know we’re ready.” Paul pulled out his phone. “You can open the garage. The button is by the door.”
John swallowed and rubbed his jaw. Even thought it was cool in the garage, he wiped sweat from his forehead. “If we open the garage, the black things will have a clear line of sight to you.”
“I should be fine,” Paul said, hoping he was right. The kid from the video had stuck his arm out the window. He clung to that thought. “Make sure you stay back though. No sense in both of us getting hit if I’m wrong.” He tried to put on a confident smile, but he couldn’t make his mouth form the shape.
They are safe. He hadn’t done the benediction for a while now but whispering in his mind helped him. His kids needed h
im to brave.
With a flip of a switch, the drone hummed to life, vibrating in his hands. Everything was ready. He set it on the ground and sent a brief text to Matty. He was ready.
“Open the garage.”
Matt
“When is Daddy going to fly the ship at us?” Abby tugged on Matt’s leg. He was getting everything ready with Heather, making space inside the tree house, moving any obstacle that could stop the drone.
“Soon, Abs.” He shushed her and tried to think if there was anything else he could do. It would be a difficult flight. The “front door” to the tree house pointed toward the top of the street. The garage, where his dad was launching from, wasn’t a straight line to the door. Not a worry if his dad was an accomplished amateur drone enthusiast, but he and Matt had only tried once, and the outing ended in a crash.
Behind him, Heather was trying to find anything they could use to grab the drone if it went off-path. There was so little, though. The tree house was sturdy and weather-proof, but barely functional. Because it was shared with the entire street, no kids left their personal property in it, and aside from the tiny table, two beanbag chairs, a stack of magazines and miscellaneous junk, it was empty.
At the back was the open hatch where the climbing rope hung. The opening was small, only two feet by two feet. Midway through day two, Heather tipped the table on its side in front of the hatch to give them a modicum of privacy; it had become their bathroom. Abby had been terrified, afraid one of the aliens would bite at her bum, but Heather joked her out of it, putting on an exaggerated fierce face, and threatening to bite Abby’s bum herself if she didn’t use it. Matt was desperately grateful for Heather’s presence. It turned out it was easier to be brave if you had someone to be brave for.
Matt made a list in his mind of what he could do to make sure the drone made it over safely. It only had two items:
1. Nothing.
2. Pray.
Shit. The words were practically synonyms.
His phone buzzed, showing a text from his dad. Everything was about ready to go.
“I think he’s going to start soon,” he told the girls.
“I want to watch,” Abby pushed her way to the front door.
“Let Dad take off, first. He doesn’t need the pressure,” Matt said. Abby pouted, but let herself be turned toward the bean bag chair at the back. He worried what would happen when his dad opened the garage door. Would the aliens attack him? His dad seemed confident, but Matt couldn’t seem to work enough moisture into his mouth to swallow, and he kept rubbing his palms on his jeans. On the other hand, if the aliens did attack when the garage door was open, this plan was doomed anyway because he needed to open the door to the tree house to let the drone in.
The plan was for his dad to launch from the back of the garage. Assuming he wasn’t attacked, he’d fly the drone over, he and Heather would open the front door for a fraction of a second, and his dad would punch the drone through.
“How good is your dad at drone flying?” Heather asked.
He opened his mouth to say something funny and heroic, but Heather’s face was sincere, and he could see how scared she was and, oddly, it felt disrespectful to hide this from her. It would be like treating her like a child, like Abby. Heather was in this with him, together. An equal. A friend.
“He’s terrible,” he said. “I’ll honestly be surprised if he clears the garage door without crashing.”
Heather stared at him for a beat and then she laughed. It was a wonderful sound, rich and deep and honest, and after a moment, he joined in. Both were soon bent over, laughing fit to beat the devil, and Abby got up from her bean bag chair.
“What is so funny?” she asked.
“Soon your belly is going to be full of food and treats, that’s what.” Heather lurched at Abby, tickling her in the sides and neck. Abby collapsed into a giggling heap while Heather pounced on her and Matt watched the two of them wrestle and laugh, and thought, I want to freeze this moment forever.
His eyes filled with tears and he realized how badly he wanted to live and how terrified he was of dying. So, so scared. He thought about the kid from the army video, the one not much older than him, who screamed before the screen went black. He knew he was supposed to be brave and tough, but he thought he was going to wet himself. He was only a kid. But weren’t Deidre and Pete kids too? The aliens didn’t discriminate.
Heather finished with Abby, who had been reduced to a sweaty, hiccupping pile, and Matt rubbed his hands across his eyes before she could see he had been crying like a baby. She tilted her head and took his hands.
“I’m glad you’re here with me.”
“Me too.” He nodded.
They held each other’s eyes, but before it had a chance to get more awkward, Matt’s phone buzzed once more. Launch in one minute.
“Showtime,” Matt said.
Krista
Krista and Martin decided to watch the launch from the living room. The giant picture window had a clear view of the whole street and even though she couldn’t see into the garage, where Paul was going to fly the drone from, she’d be able to see what happened.
“This is a bad idea,” Martin said for what felt like the 400th time today.
“Objection noted. You have two minutes to come up with a better idea, or this is happening.”
“If he fucks up, those things could kill my daughter. We should wait for the army or the police.”
The Army or the Police. Martin’s prayer. Repeated a dozen times a day, he had unshakable faith in the societal system that would rescue him. As he said, he paid his taxes, he put in his dues, they were supposed to be there for him.
“Christ, I even voted for Obama,” he said at one point, almost incredulously, as if that somehow counted in his favor.
“We’re in this alone,” she told him. “If you’re scared, go wait in the basement.”
He shot her a glare and said, “I’m not scared, I think the plan is reckless and stupid.”
“Objection. Noted.” She forced an aggressive pause between the words, daring him to say anything else. She could see him struggle to keep his temper and she realized she needed to stop goading him.
“Fine,” he got up from the couch. “I will do something else.” He stormed down to the basement and Krista wondered if she should go after him. No telling what that giant moron would come up with. But her babies were in the tree house and her man was going to pull off a miracle that would save them. She couldn’t look away. It was superstitious and dumb, but she kept both her fingers crossed while she watched.
She reached down to the bay window in front of the couch and turned the latch that held it closed. The latch protested, but she gave it a half spin and opened the window a crack, no more than a hands width. Holding her breath, she waited to see if any of the alien drones would notice or respond. Nothing. Encouraged, she opened it a tiny bit more, enough so she could feel a breeze coming in from outside to hear the garage door open.
Hovering at the roof line, if the aliens noticed anything Paul was doing, they didn’t show it. They didn’t bob in the air or anything like that. Like the air was ice or something. She almost thought she could jump up and down on top of one of them and it wouldn’t even budge. There were five of them that she could see, one in front of every house. No way to tell if they were even facing in her direction.
The garage door stopped after it was halfway raised. She expected to see the tiny drone fly out, pulling the lifeline behind it, but a minute passed, and nothing happened. Her phone remained silent, so Paul must still be working on getting it going.
Behind her, Martin clumped back up the stairs on his heavy feet and when she turned to look at him, she gasped.
He carried a giant rifle, gripping it carelessly by the stock, his other hand high up on the barrel. It had a cherry wood finish, shiny from what must have been hours of polishing. On the one hand, she couldn’t believe anyone in this neighborhood owned a gun, but on the other, it didn
’t surprise her that it was Martin.
She should have been angry, that would have been the right reaction, but he looked so… stupid. His white linen shirt was partially un-tucked, and a part of his hair was sticking up at the back. His eyes were open wide and not even his pretty, delicate eyelashes could help his appearance. His cheeks flushed red and for a moment, she experienced dizzying vertigo.
This was what she had sex with. This was what she nearly ruined her life over. This stupid half-man, who was too dumb to even be properly threatening. And for what? Because she was bored? Because Paul didn’t kiss her on the back of the neck anymore, like he used to before Matty was born? Because she thought he didn’t love her?
Christ. The last thought came from nowhere. She rubbed her face in her hands.
“You’re such a fucking moron,” she said through her fingers.
Not the reaction Martin was looking for. His face flushed deeper and he roughly pushed her aside and muscled his way to the open window.
“Laugh all you want, I-”
“Ha. Ha,” she said the words carefully. He stopped whatever speech he was about to give and stared at her, breathing heavily. His lips were pulled back and his nostrils flared like there wasn’t enough air in the room. She had gone too far.
“What are you going to do with that?” She tried to bring the temperature in the room down.
“I’m going to protect my daughter when your dumb goddamn husband brings every creature within a two-mile radius over with his stupid drone stunt.”
“You can’t shoot them. You saw the same footage I did. A direct hit from a tank didn’t do anything.”
“It might distract them though.”
She opened her mouth to continue arguing when she heard a thin, high-pitched buzzing. The drone had launched. Both her and Martin stared out the window, rapt, as the tiny, four-propeller craft bobbled out from under the garage door.
When Paul bought the drone, he had been so excited, tripping over his words and talking about the good times he and the kids would have flying it. He showed it to her like he had found a diamond. She remembered her reaction perfectly. It had been a shitty day, she was worried about an upcoming bill, and he went out and bought this dumb thing without even asking her.
Aliens and Ice Cream Page 10
