“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“There’s another meeting tomorrow night, and you know what they say, ‘If you’re not with us, you’re against us.’”
As much as she tried to swallow her words, they still spilled over.
“That sounds an awful lot like a threat, Ryan.”
He straightened up, clearly not expecting an argument.
“So, if I don’t join you I’m your enemy. Is that how it works? How long have we been neighbors? Five years, at least. What will you do if I don’t join? Break into my house one night and kill me?”
She rose abruptly, and as she left the kitchen, she heard Melissa hurry after her.
“Oh, Honey, he didn’t mean it like that. No one’s gonna kill you. You’re not a traitor. You’re just afraid.”
“Yes, I am afraid. I just didn’t think I’d ever have to be afraid of you.”
They were too creepy, and the meeting gave her nightmares. She jogged over to her own house, and her hands shook when she locked the front door behind her.
The aliens acted less crazy than her neighbors. What was wrong with the world?
She paced around, talking to the cat.
“I want to go to work and meet some normal people, but what if Ryan comes to burn the house down, or takes his fear out on you?”
Bonbon didn’t acknowledge her with as much as a meow, but her tail twitched, picking up Rachael’s tension.
“I’ve seen too many horror movies, haven’t I?
The cat looked up at her for a moment, and proceeded to bathe her own furry forehead with one paw, as if to say, “Can’t you see I have more important things to do?”
That probably means agreement. I should run to the bus. I can catch it if I go now, and hurry.
Leaving the house was a relief, but just as she expected, absolutely nothing happened in the office.
It was probably a matter of time until their company would be taken over and run with extreme efficiency, like the grocery stores, but for now it served as a social gathering. She had a cup of coffee from their quickly diminishing supply and listened as people nattered about the newcomers and the brewing resistance.
Resistance, blah, blah, blah. Civilians playing with weapons. Don’t they understand this is an enemy that will strike back? The guys I met last night were a joke. I bet the alien in the grocery store could take them all out with one hand tied behind his back.
As she listened to the discussion, she rolled her eyes, and went over to her own desk. They were short of rooms, and she had shared an office with her manager for years. In the past it had seemed unpractical. Now she was grateful to have a sensible person to talk to.
“I wonder what happened to the army. I mean, I’m sure we had some preparedness for an EMP strike?”
He leaned back in the chair and rubbed his cheek.
“The Russians probably did too.”
What are you saying? Is it like this everywhere?
“So... Do you think the military knows something we don’t, or are we so vastly overpowered resistance is futile?”
He shrugged. “Good question. Hey, would you go to the post office for me?”
“Sure.”
Running an errand would be something to do, if only for a little while.
She looked at the mug in her hands.
“If this is the last cup for the rest of my life I’ll cry.”
He winked.
“I have a secret stash, we’ll be okay another couple weeks.”
“Some days I think I love you.”
“I know.”
Minutes later, she sat on another bus. This one was nearly empty, and smelled like Febreeze.
Amazingly, the post office was more efficient than ever. Everything else might fall apart, but the mail would still be delivered. It took longer than before, but it still arrived to the right address more often than not. Deprived of phones, faxes, podcasts, and e-mail, letters were back in fashion.
Maybe postal workers were the true heroes of the world.
Maybe that should be my new career. I can be Rachael, Mail Carrier, modern hero keeping the world going in the face of impossible odds.
She was so focused on getting everything some USPS superman stuffed into the company’s post office box she didn’t hear footsteps behind her, and she jumped when a voice teased, “You’re not going to drop all that too, are you?”
It was the man from the store and the magnetic pull from his gaze was still there. He was a good foot taller than she, and she had to raise her head and look up to meet his eyes.
Do they all have this effect on all Earth women, or is it just him on me? And I’m going to shoot him, right? My neighbors are delusional. They’re all delusional...
She wanted to stick her tongue out at him for scaring her, and if he had been from Earth she probably would have. No telling how a visitor from another planet would take it. She didn’t want to be shot for accidentally proclaiming war, or for calling his mother a kangaroo in some alien sign language.
From the look on his face, he guessed what kind of thoughts were going through her mind. He smirked, and his golden eyes glittered.
“Alright then, I was just checking. Hold on to those, whatever they are.”
As much as she wanted to appear really cool, she felt her cheeks heat.
Great, I’m probably red as a tomato. Walk away. It’s your turn to walk away. He did it last time.
Somehow she made her feet move forward. She wanted to glance back to see if he was watching, but forced herself to keep her eyes on the door.
Even at a time like this, a girl had to retain a little dignity.
Chapter Three
Rachael bounced back to the office on light feet.
Who knew meeting an invader could be this exciting?
The thrill was just her hormones reacting of course, but why not enjoy it while she could? Hormones might soon be forbidden. Maybe they’d distribute some convenient injections to counteract all irrational behavior.
She dropped the pile of mail into her boss’s inbox. He watched her, frowned, and lifted an eyebrow. The effect was so goofy she wanted to giggle, but her mirth disappeared quickly when he spoke.
“Well, you look happy. Did the post office suddenly turn into Disneyworld?”
“No, I’m just... having a good day.”
Happy might not be an appropriate state of mind at the end of the world.
Does Disneyworld still exist? They seem too efficient to value having fun. I wonder if they ever laugh.
He wasn’t willing to drop the subject.
“Is it a boy? You need a good husband. Especially at a time like this.”
I can’t really tell anyone, can I? I don’t think anyone would understand, and Terry is kinda religious. I’m sure wanting to flirt with an alien is sinful or breaks some form of taboo.
She flashed an enigmatic smile.
“Maybe.”
“You know what I always say. Don’t let them take advantage of you. You need a man willing to commit. I’ve been married for thirty-four years and never looked back.”
“Sure.”
And it’s really none of your business...
“I have a shotgun if he needs to be coerced.”
Rachael bit her cheek and swallowed the fit of laughter that threatened to break free. Her mind painted out a hilarious mental image of the short, chubby, and well-meaning company owner pointing a shotgun at the gigantic alien, demanding he either marry the Earth woman or stop talking to her.
“I’ve gotta write a letter. We can talk later.”
There was no work to be done, of course. She doodled on a paper for a few minutes. Leaving was safer than staying, and it was still early afternoon when she took the bus back home.
Home, with crazy people next door.
She dragged her feet down the street. A row of soldiers marched in front of her, and keeping some distance would be a wise course of action. They walked in perfect sync, and
were all heavily armed.
Maybe they’re here for Melissa and Ryan. What would I do if they were? Gawk? Try to interfere? Help myself to what’s left of their coffee if I can find it? At least my house still stands, so maybe I overestimated his pyromaniac tendencies.
Her own mailbox held no pleasant surprises. Getting a postcard or letter would be exciting, but no one sent her anything like that before the world went to hell. No reason for people to become more social now. She flipped through the envelopes.
Water bill, seriously? Do I have to pay the water bill when the world is coming to an end?
And how? Did they expect money, or was it an identi-card-thing? Maybe they just sent out bills because nobody told the computer to stop.
The envelopes presented no answers, and she kept her eyes fixed on them as she headed for the front door. Power and light, county utilities...
“Oh no, not again.”
She was completely unprepared for meeting anyone and the amused voice made her jump. Her alien stood right in front of her, crossing his arms over his chest and glancing into her eyes with a smile tugging at his lips.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were doing this on purpose.”
He sounded as if she was the most entertaining being he had met for at least a decade, or however these people might measure time.
“I live here. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were stalking me.”
How do you make me feel this flustered and insecure when you’re not even human? Dammit. There should be a law against alien invaders looking this good. And how does he speak and understand English so well when he’s probably never been any place near Earth before?
He stepped out of her way and made a polite gesture towards her door.
“Point taken.” His eyes glittered with laughter.
How could he seem so cool when the day was so hot, and he wore that thick, dark uniform?
Was this world anything like what he was used to?
The others won the planet, at least for now, but this man’s home was somewhere farther away than she could comprehend. Being the conqueror might not be all that good.
“Hey, it’s warm today. Do you want some ice tea or something?”
The man fixed her with his steady gaze and leaned his head to the side, scrutinizing her in a way that made her cheeks heat.
“No, thank you, not right now. I’m afraid I have to work. Maybe I can take you up on it later.”
“Sure, I understand. I’m Rachael.”
Why do I feel disappointed? I don’t really want an invader in my house, do I?
He flashed a smile that reached his eyes and made him look both younger and even more handsome.
“Nice to meet you, Rachael. I’m Peter.”
A movement caught her eye. She thought she saw a curtain sway in the neighbor’s house. Either Melissa or Ryan watched her. It was tempting to stay and talk, just for a moment, but a part of her mind chimed warning bells. No telling how much trouble they could create for her...
Did he know she attended the meeting? Was he checking up on her to see if she was a threat?
No, she could never be that dangerous. If she warranted attention it was for something else.
She clutched her letters, nodded to Peter, and struggled not to stumble over her own feet as she headed for the front door. She made it without falling, and once inside the house she forced herself to put the mail slowly on the kitchen counter. Every instinct she had screamed to run to the window and peek through the blinds to see if he was still out there, but she would give him no such pleasure.
Instead, she lifted the cat up and whispered, “Your mommy is silly.”
The following “meow” could have meant anything from “put me down” to “feed me.” Either way, it didn’t explain why her heart beat so hard in her chest, or why she had butterflies in her stomach.
“It’s just the heat.” It was a good explanation, but didn’t ring true.
She took a Coke from the fridge and rolled the cool can over her forehead. Soda was forbidden of course, but she had always stockpiled food in her pantry, and thus far no one conducted door-to-door searches for forbidden substances.
You would think chocolate is as dangerous as cocaine. Maybe it is to them? Maybe they’re trying to protect themselves and not us?
It was good to have the fridge back. The power had returned after a couple of days, and after changing bulbs and fuses, most basic appliances worked fine. It was impressive how quickly the aliens got everything up and running. Maybe they’d done all this many times before.
Was Earth just another planet to them, or was it special?
That line of thought led her back to Peter. Wanting to flirt with an alien, wanting to stare into those strange, intriguing, golden eyes... Had she no sense of self-preservation?
What kind of name was Peter for an alien, anyway?
Did they get to choose their own names every time they went to a new planet, or were they assigned a new moniker each time?
What about last names? Did Peter have one, or was he Peter Twelve-Thousand, Nine-Hundred, Sixty-three? Try to fit that into one of those blacken-in-the-circles standardized test-scoring forms.
*****
Rachael spent the rest of the day leafing through books.
Nothing could hold her attention, and the silence in her little house was thick enough to touch. Both the TV and the stereo were useless. She just hadn’t gotten around to throwing them out.
Her mind wandered back to the invader and his golden eyes for the thousandth time that afternoon.
Cut it out. You shouldn’t be curious about him, and it’s a moot point because you’ll never see him again. This is not an appropriate time to daydream. You need to figure out how to survive instead.
It was unusually good advice for coming from her own mind.
She rummaged around in the closet until she found her sword. The sheath was dusty, but she brought it out once a year to oil the blade, and the high carbon steel was razor sharp.
It wouldn’t do her much good if Ryan came in with a gun, but having it close made her feel better. She put it under the bed, but that didn’t seem sufficient. All the weapons in the world wouldn’t save her if she couldn’t get to them, so she put it on top of the useless TV instead.
A careful knock on the door made her jump.
Dammit Ryan, leave me alone.
Her imagination painted many bad scenarios in glorious Technicolor as she went to look through the peephole.
It wasn’t Ryan, and once the evidence from her eyes reached her brain, her jaw dropped in surprise. Her fingers opened the lock and security chain almost automatically. Peter was still in uniform, but looked definitely more relaxed than on duty. When the door opened, he lifted both eyebrows and managed to look both endearing and curious.
“What is iced tea?”
“C’mon in and I’ll show you.”
Are Melissa and Ryan watching from behind their curtains? Haha, what do you guys make of this? Think I’m tattling on you?
She should probably be more afraid than happy, both of him and of them. But, having a living, breathing alien in her home was much too cool for worry.
Inside her home, he appeared taller than ever. He wandered into the living room and poked one of her decorations with a finger.
Is this his first time in an Earthling’s home? This could be big. It could be the first time any of them visits one of us. I wonder what his planet is like. Does he have a home there? A pleasant house with a family? Maybe he keeps pictures of them and misses them.
Peter lifted a ceramic bird to look under it, and she chewed her lip. She should say something, but what?
“It reminds me of home, when I was a little boy. It’s so long ago I hardly remember it.”
She still didn’t know what to say, so she nodded and fled into the kitchen to check on dinner in the oven, whispering to herself, “Stay cool, Chicky.”
When she peeked int
o the living room again, Peter held an old book, turning it over reverently in his hands. Maybe spaceships didn’t carry books. Probably not, because they were pretty heavy and took up a lot of room.
Maybe his civilization skipped inventing paper altogether. Did he even know how to read?
“I was making lasagna. Want some?”
He glanced up, and the expression on his face made him look like he forgot where he was and what he was doing.
“Lasagna? Is that what smells so good?”
The words had an air of innocence and made her smile.
“Yes, you should try it.”
Peter sighed softly and looked at the book in his hands. He laid it down on the shelf carefully, keeping his eyes on it.
“It’s... That is nice.”
What is he referring to, the book, the iced tea, the lasagna? For a big scary guy, he can sure look vulnerable.
“It’s okay. Look all you want.”
His presence in the house was more surreal now than when he first entered.
There’s a tall handsome man I don’t know in my home. A tall, handsome alien man, dressed in uniform and armed to the teeth.
He followed her gaze and patted a gun on his hip.
“This is rude, isn’t it? Can I... Do you have somewhere I could put them?”
She nodded towards her recliner.
“Knock yourself out.”
An expression of utter surprise flew over his face and she wanted to slap her forehead. “Oh, it means, ‘Do what you want.’ Put them over there, and we’ll go have dinner.”
Why are you here? Why me?
She closed her mouth around all questions and went to the kitchen to set the table.
Peter followed, standing very close to her. It made her heart race.
He nodded towards the plates.
“Can I help you with that?”
“No, I’m good. You can eat Earth food, right?”
The question seemed reasonable, maybe something that tasted good to her would be repulsive to him, or make him sick, but he laughed.
“We’re not that different.”
She pretended not to watch him, but stole curious glances of his face as he tasted the first few bites and chewed slowly.
Operation Earth Page 3
