Dawn of the Vie (Immortal Aliens Book 1)

by Laura Diamond

  I tried rolling on my side. All I managed to do was groan.

  “I thought so.” He plucked a syringe from the coffee table and injected its clear liquid into the IV. “Antinocio. We’ll talk when you wake.”

  “But I…”

  In my dreams, screams of everyone I’d failed to protect mingled with the jarring tones of Alex’s hollow laughter. Each time, Alex attempted to kill me, but he stopped short, promising to come to my aid for as long as I needed him. He swore he’d protect me, taking over for my dad. Made no sense, what with him trying to kill me and all. He’d murmur something about needing to save me from himself and then he’d lean in for another bite.

  Screaming woke me. I convulsed, limbs flailing.

  Alex held me down. His mouth moved, but his voice sounded distant, like he was under water. “Justin, wake up. You’re yelling in your sleep.”

  “Sammie.”

  “She’s not here. I’m sorry.”

  That brought me to my senses. Everything I wanted to say in my nightmares but couldn’t came streaming out of me. “I hate you. I hate that you came here. I hate how you ruined everything.” I buried my face in the sofa cushion.

  “I know,” he said.

  I cried into the fabric from the pain and from my heartache, from Alex’s useless understanding.

  “You are so fortunate.”

  “You’re insane.” I did that shaky, gulp-breath thing that’s sort of like hiccups but instead of hiccups you cough out a word or two.

  “I don’t have life. Not the way you do.”

  “It’s a crappy life. You wouldn’t want it.” More cough-breath word spasms sputtered out of me.

  He brushed my sweaty hair from my face. “Neither of us wants the life we have. And at last, we find common ground.”

  I shifted to face him, grunting through the pain. “You know what? I don’t believe that, just like everything else you say.”

  I searched his unreadable face for any signs of flaws. There weren’t any. Except his shirt was wrinkled, the collar undone, sleeves rolled up. And his eyes flickered with turmoil.

  He leaned against the coffee table, bending his knee up to rest his elbow on it. “I do not regret my choice to accept Vitalus, but there is a downside to living forever.”

  “Oh, yeah? Like what?”

  His mutilated hand clenched into a fist. “Let me finish.”

  I huffed then winced at the soreness buried deep in my muscles. At least my stupid crying stopped.

  “I’ve been immortal for a long time. Suffice it to say several of your planet’s civilizations rose and fell since my ‘birth.’

  “Every planet we restructured had different native life, unique sentient beings. Yet they—we—evolved into similar enough phenotypes. I mean, what are the odds?” He hooked a thumb behind a fang, deep in recollection.

  “Despite that, we dominated each world and did it quickly because, I believe, of the Vitalus vaccine. It changed every cell, including brain tissue, giving us powers initially beyond our own comprehension. Understanding language was intuitive, government, politics, commerce, faith, love, societal structure, even each planet’s history, came to us with minimal effort.

  “A lot of times I think about what I developed and sit in awe.” He rolled on his heels and stood in one fluid motion. “Sometimes, I don’t really believe it was me who manufactured it.”

  He started to pace. “No. What I did was impossible. What I did required something else. Care to take a guess at what it might be?”

  A heartbeat passed. “No? All right, I’ll tell you, then. It was divine intervention. God infused whatever it is that makes God, God into the vaccine, thereby imparting unexpected and unimaginable powers into it.”

  He sat on the coffee table, grinning. “And you know what else I think?”

  I shook my head, half lost in his rantings, half lost in the remnants of Antinocio.

  “I think God is infused in your blood. That’s why I can’t isolate what it is that makes us age when we drink from you. God created you—you specifically, Justin—as a check and balance to us, to Vie, because we’ve run unchecked for so long. Because we misused our gifts, our blessings. Because we no longer deserve them.”

  My head throbbed in time with my pulse. God. Inside me. Uhh… “What are you saying?”

  He rested his elbows on his knees. “Don’t you think it beyond mere coincidence that I found you? The developer—discoverer—of Vitalus?

  “God is trying to tell me something. God is telling me that Vie do not deserve immortality. You are the Bringer of Death, Justin.”

  “You can’t be serious,” I said.

  He drew a thumb along his bottom lip. “I know it’s difficult to understand, but I’ve been thinking about it for a long time. It’s why I wrote The Book of Vie. I had to share my theory with others. I had to share hope.”

  Alex’s confession filled me to the brim, the words he’d vomited stuffed in my brain, thick as mud and just as gloppy.

  “And it’s gaining momentum,” he said.

  “What?”

  “People are hearing about you—because I’m telling them through NCAAR—and they’re believing.” His eyes sparked with frightening, manic energy.

  Just as suddenly as the twinkle appeared, it blinked out, leaving his pupils darker than a black hole. “I only wish Martin could have seen the fruits of his labor.”

  Time froze. My heart paused. Air stayed trapped in my lungs, squishy coffins. Slowly, I sat up, biting my cheek against the pain, and said, “You. Knew. Martin.”

  Alex sat straight. One nod.

  The lying son-of-a-bitch, sack-of-shit.

  “You knew Martin!” I screamed.

  He closed his eyes and dropped his head.

  “Who do you think you are? How dare you.” Grit and venom spilled out of me, foaming at my mouth. I stood, propelled by rage. “None of what happened had to happen. You could’ve saved him and Zack. You didn’t have to take Sammie. You didn’t have to do any of this!”

  I cocked a fist and swung. The punch landed on his cheek with a crunch, but it wasn’t his face that broke, it was my hand. I yelped, cradling my fist in my palm.

  Alex swooped in, quickly assessing the damage.

  “Don’t touch me,” I said.

  “I have to.” He examined my knuckles. “No fractures. I’ll get some ice.”

  I propped my throbbing hand in my lap, letting tears fall freely down my face. Was all this divine intervention like Alex said? Was this how God ran the universe? Hardly seemed fair.

  Alex returned with a towel full of ice. He rested it on my bruising hand. At this point, my bruises had bruises. A grimace pulled at his mouth. “You pack quite a punch.”

  “I didn’t hurt you.”

  “It is similar to a flower hitting a steel girder, but the effort you put into it was impressive.”

  I snorted then sniffed, wiping my face with my sleeve.

  “I am sorry for your friends.”

  “What good are your apologies?”

  “They are sincere.”

  “But they happen after the fact. It’d mean more if you didn’t do what you apologize for in the first place.”

  He stuck his tongue in his cheek. “You make a fair point.”

  I settled against the couch cushion, needing more distance from him. “Do you believe everything you just said? All that stuff about the Bringer of Death and God?”

  “Absolutely.” He laced his fingers together.

  “It’s a fantasy that you made up.”

  “It’s not fiction. It’s science. Just because I haven’t isolated the particle or particles to prove the theory doesn’t negate it. There are things in existence that can’t be seen. This is where your imagination falls short.”

  I moaned an ugh.

  “Before our Arrival, several religions blanketed your planet. One in particular spoke of God incarnate. God became human. That religion dominated for centuries.”

  �
�It’s. Not. Real.”

  He sighed with frustration and left his perch on the coffee table to pace. “Okay, so say it’s not real, but people still need something. They need faith in a higher power. It keeps hope alive. It keeps them alive.”

  “They need to delude themselves.”

  “No, that’s not what I mean.”

  “That’s what you’re doing. You’re deluding yourself into having faith in your own make-believe fairy tale.”

  He paused at the windows. “Fairy tales have power. They can incite change.”

  “You’re beyond insane.”

  “I’ve heard those words from you before. You need proof, Doubting Thomas.”

  “Who?”

  He waved a hand. “Never mind. It’s too obscure a reference for you to understand.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Fine, what proof do you want to share this time?”

  He blurred to the couch and extended a hand. “Come on. We’re going out for this.”

  Alex led us to the underground garage. Rows of sleek vehicles lined the space. Despite their advanced technology, the Vie kept some man-made products, including fast cars. Most were black or silver, and none had a speck of dirt on them. Alex ushered me to a red convertible. A Porsche.

  Of course.

  “Get in,” he said.

  I sank in the leather seat. He closed the door and was in the driver seat before I clicked the seat belt on.

  “Where are we going?”

  He pushed the ignition button. The engine roared to life. “It’s a surprise.”

  He threw the car into reverse and peeled out of the parking spot. A millisecond after switching to first gear, he slammed the gas pedal and released the clutch. My spine melded to the seat with the force of acceleration. We hadn’t even left the garage yet.

  On the main street, Vie crowded the streets of downtown. Bunches of them huddled around boutiques and electronic stores while others filed in and out of blood bars.

  Alex maneuvered the Porsche like a shark. Weaving in and out of lanes, we passed the blocks in a blur. All Vie drove fast, but he took it to a new level.

  “You always drive like this?” I sunk my nails in the dashboard.

  He pried them loose. “Don’t touch anything. I just had it detailed.”

  “Yeah, well, if we crash, you’ll need more than a detail to get the stains out.”

  He chuckled. “I like your dark humor.”

  “Yeah, it’s great, isn’t it?”

  At West Fourteenth and Fifth, he took a hard left. At this rate, we’d nosedive into the river in about ten seconds.

  “This used to be the meat-packing district. The dome is the only things keeping the water from swallowing this area up.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  A few more turns and he eased the car to a stop in the semi-circular driveway of Pier Fifty-seven.

  “Coming?” He popped the trunk latch and got out of the car. After picking up a black duffel, he shut the lid and strolled toward the multi-story structure jutting out over the water.

  I stared at him, mouth slack, hands gripping the seatbelt. He was without a doubt certifiably bonkers. I unlatched the belt and let it slide through my fingers. Taking slow, even breaths, I opened the door and put both feet on the ground.

  He kept walking, one hand in his pocket and the other holding onto the bag. A perky tune filtered to me on the breeze. Blazes, he was whistling.

  “You won’t want to miss this, Anemie,” he called.

  I stood, torn between following him or running. He was far enough away I might get a head start but, dammit, he was fast and my entire body hurt like a bitch. I wouldn’t get far.

  “If you want to run, run. I’ll catch you and bring you along anyway. It’ll just delay things a few moments.” Bastard guessed what I was thinking.

  I slogged after him. “Can you read minds?”

  He chuckled. “No, why do you ask? Because I can make an educated guess based on your past behavior?”

  “Whatever. Not many people out here.”

  He arched a brow at me. “Do you mean humans, Vie, or Anemies?”

  I shrugged. “Vie, I guess.”

  “So, you consider us people?” His mouth curled up with amusement.

  “A mistake I won’t repeat.”

  “Dark and broody Justin. Perhaps this will lighten your mood.”

  He led us through the main entrance to the stairs on the right. We climbed to the top level, albeit slowly considering my weakened muscles and, well, Anemie-ness. I huffed while Alex waited patiently for me.

  “This place became defunct in the year 2004, if you go by the pre-Arrival calendar. It wasn’t until the mid-2010s that a builder came along and turned it into a shopping center over a decade after a previous builder had declared plans for the same thing. When New York City became New City, Abarron abandoned the pier. Imagine what it was like in its heyday.” He swept his arm left to right as if erasing decades of decay. “To see this garden cultivated and groomed. It’d be beautiful.”

  “Why didn’t Abarron want to keep it or rebuild it?” I asked, still breathless.

  We walked along the path of the overgrown garden. A salty breeze blew in through the broken windows from the water. Abarron’s dome reached across the river to the mainland, otherwise this bit of river would be blocked off from the city as well.

  “Maybe he will someday.” Directing us to the far corner, he tipped his head. “In the meantime, the pier is being used for a good purpose.”

  He dropped the duffel. “Come out, little ones. I can hear your heartbeats.”

  I squinted into the dark.

  “No harm will come to you. Show yourselves.” He crooned to whoever hid in the shadows as he would to a litter of kittens.

  Scuffles came from the dark. Soon, a dozen figures emerged.

  “Alex,” I whispered, retreating a step.

  “It’s all right. Help me unload.” He knelt to unzip the duffel. Out came a lantern. He flicked it on and set it next to the bag. Digging both hands inside, he scooped out whatever he’d packed.

  I dropped to my knees for a closer look. Small cartons of grains, dried fruit, and dehydrated vegetables mixed with containers of water pellets. “What’s this?”

  The group had joined us. They hovered a couple steps away, watching with hollow cheeks.

  Anemies. All of them. Dirt-caked, haggard, hungry-eyed Anemies. Poor kids. But they were alive.

  Clots, had I looked that bad? Guess a few days of real food, daily showers, and a cushioned sofa went a long way to separate me from my old life. Alex’s chomping on me hadn’t helped, but the transfusions sure had.

  “Test subjects.” He pushed the pile of goods toward them. “Go on. Take it.”

  “This is an experiment?” I scanned the area, but didn’t catch any signs of predator Vie waiting to attack. Or any cameras.

  “These are subjects I’ve freed. With any luck, other Anemies can come here too. Welcome to the very first safe house.”

  “Kinda ballsy, putting a safe house practically under Abarron’s nose. Does he know about his missing test subjects?”

  “No. And I can’t release all of them, but at least I can free some.” His face darkened. “So, don’t bother asking again about Samantha.”

  “Why take part in the raids?”

  “I have to keep my cover. Surely, you can understand that.” He gave me a pointed look before dumping the remaining contents on the floor. “I can do more good this way.”

  “You could’ve—”

  “No, I couldn’t.” He rose, stuffing the bag under his arm. With his free hand, he grabbed my wrist and drew me backward. When we were at a fair distance, the Anemies descended on the food like a pack of wild dogs.

  “I couldn’t save her.” He faced me. “Please, help me save you.”

  Year 75, Month 6, Day 3

  ara arrived at her usual time, only she was two days late. I followed her to the bathroom, stumbling along the way. I’
d barely slept since my outing with Alex. Visiting the safe house and freed Anemie test subjects flipped everything on its head, and I already felt upside down.

  His words had bounced through my mind ceaselessly over the past forty-eight hours, replaying over and over again, on some sick feedback loop that refused to quit:

  I couldn’t save her. Please, help me save you.

  He couldn’t save Sammie. So was she dead? Perhaps she had been all along, gone from the world since the night of the raid. Had I done all this for nothing? And what reason did Alex have to lie about it? He could―and had―taken everything he wanted without letting me think she was alive when―if―she wasn’t. With all his strength, speed, and power, the only reason he’d have to manipulate me like that would be for his own warped enjoyment.

  As I’d thought from the beginning, this was all a game for him.

  Raids, “helping” Anemies, playing with me…

  …a game.

  I clenched my fists, eyes stinging from a fresh flood of tears. The motherfucker.

  If only I’d staked him right the first time. Better believe the next time I got a chance, I’d shove a stake through his chest so hard his heart would explode.

  Cara eyed my hands, but said nothing. “Where’ve you been?” I asked, stretching my fingers wide to relax. Or pretend to relax.

  Cara finished scrubbing the tub and moved to the sink, avoiding my gaze the whole time. “Alex told me to stay away. Said you needed rest.”

  “I missed you.” I placed my hand over hers. I needed contact with someone alive, someone mortal, someone damned like me.

  She shook me off. “I better finish up. You look tired.”

  “I’m fine. Please don’t rush. I can heat up some soup for us.”

  I caressed her soft, pink cheek. My fingertips tingled, and not from toxin damage. Waves of warmth spread over my body. I never felt more alive than when I touched her.

  She held her breath. Her bright eyes studied my face. A current from the air duct played with a loose strand of her golden hair. It took a sheer force of will not to tuck it behind her ear.

  “Cara.” I dipped my head until our foreheads met. My heart flip-flopped.

  “Justin.” Her voice was soft, but it carried an unsaid need that required no translation.