Alien Separation

by Gini Koch

  “You’re not Alice in Wonderland,” Chuckie said. “And, no. Thankfully, you look like you.” He sniffed. “Only you smell a little purple now.”

  “Huh. I wonder if the water in this area is what causes all the monochromatic color theme around here along with all the good smells.”

  Took another sip. The juice or whatever was really good. We waited a few minutes, but I remained me. The guys tried a fruit each—same thing. Tasted purple, none of us died. Handed out food bars, though Bruno and the Poofs passed on eating them. Shared the rest of my waterfruit with Bruno while the guys shared theirs with the Poofs. None of us suggested drinking down the six other fruits we had.

  As we ate, night fell. Fast. The katyhoppers hadn’t been exaggerating—it was dark by the time we’d finished and I could tell the temperature had already dropped some.

  Once we’d eaten Bruno took the fruit skins in his beak and flew them down to the big piles. I shoved the empty wrappers into my purse—no reason to litter. I carefully put the waterfruit in my purse, too, using the wrappers to sort of pad them. They might be the only liquid we could find, and I knew without asking that none of us planned to stay here once daylight returned.

  None of us were farmers, and I was as far away from an “early to bed, early to rise” type as you could get. However, the katyhoppers were settling down. And we were treated to a beautiful sight.

  The darker it got, the brighter their young glowed. Being inside their hidden nest fortress at night made a lot of sense—why literally have a sign telling predators where your babies were? At least I hoped that no one who wasn’t touching a katyhopper could get in here, or even see what was really in here. If they could get in, they’d be able to see all of us easily.

  Decided the katyhoppers hadn’t built this elaborate nesting complex in a day, and actively chose to relax.

  The bright glowing didn’t last long. As each baby went to sleep, its glow died down, leaving the lights turned low but not off. It was a lot like sleeping in standard A-C housing, where nightlights were always on in every room. Only in this world, the nightlights were dotted about, since not every family group had a young one. Wondered if the need for low light at night was something this solar system required for some reason, or if there were just more things hiding out here in the dark to be afraid of.

  Couldn’t tell if the adults were asleep or not, since I couldn’t hear them breathing in the first place. And I didn’t have a clue if katyhoppers breathed rhythmically when they slept anyway. But if they were asleep, they were silent sleepers who didn’t move much. A quick wing flap here or there was all that I could spot, and those were fast, soft, and far between.

  Heard a rustling that wasn’t katyhopper wings or legs. Wasn’t sure what it was, but it seemed far away. “Think that’s Louie?” I asked quietly.

  Chuckie lay down. “Honestly? I doubt it. Let’s not think about what could be out there, okay? There’s a reason we’re all in here.”

  “What Reynolds said.” Christopher lay down as well. Their Poofs cuddled into their necks.

  Considered using my purse as a pillow, but didn’t want to squish the waterfruit, and besides, I had a gun in there, too. Put my purse above our heads, then snuggled down in between the guys. Bruno settled at my head, between us and the purse. We were all lying on our backs, well, the guys and I were, and about all I could see above us was a canopy of leaves and branches. “I can barely see the sky.”

  “Good,” Chuckie said softly. “That means predators can barely see us, too.”

  “Good point.”

  As we lay there the air around us turned colder. And I could tell by their breathing that no one, not even the Poofs, were asleep. Some, I suspected, due to the unfamiliarity of where we were, but most likely due to cold. I snuggled closer to Chuckie. “Back to back or spooning?” he asked me softly.

  “Depends.”

  “On what?” Christopher asked in kind.

  “On how cold it’s going to get and how cold you are, honestly.”

  “I’m okay right now, but I see why the katyhoppers wanted us nesting.”

  “Yeah. Their nest is snug for them but kind of big for us.”

  “Hence why they suggested spooning,” Chuckie pointed out.

  Considered the fact that I’d slept next to Charles in the other universe and managed to keep it chaste. And freezing to death wasn’t really in the Smart Wife Handbook at any rate. Rolled onto my side and snuggled my back up against Chuckie, who moved his arm so I could lie on it. “Better?” he asked with a chuckle.

  “Yeah. Christopher, snuggle up, it’s chilly and I promise not to compromise your virtue.”

  “Oh, fine.” He went onto his side and put his back to me, then shifted closer.

  “That’s better, or at least a lot warmer. Thanks, guys.” Felt bone tired all of a sudden.

  “Goodnight, Kitty, Chuck.”

  “Goodnight, Christopher, Kitty.”

  Chose not to mention that all of a sudden they were using each other’s first names. Bonding happened in different ways for different people. “Night, guys. Sleep tight. Don’t let the alien bedbugs, which I’m in no way insinuating our gracious hosts have, bite.”

  It was definitely warmer this way, and the proof of this was that we all fell asleep.

  I woke up and realized I’d moved. Sure enough, just as Chuckie had predicted, my butt was up against Christopher, who was curved around my back, and my head was on Chuckie’s chest and he had both arms around me. Figured I’d probably kicked them both a few times, too, but oh well, it hadn’t been intentional. Hoped the katyhoppers didn’t have some way of taking a picture of this, because I was certain how we were cuddled up together wasn’t going to make either Jeff or Amy happy.

  Both men were still asleep, snoring quietly. So were the Poofs, all making tiny, adorable little snore sounds. Noted that we were the only ones making sleep noises. Also noted that I didn’t hear Bruno. But I felt him. He was snuggled between me and Christopher. Clearly it was cold for everyone. Missed blankets and wondered how the katyhoppers were faring. Probably better than us, since they were used to it.

  Frankly, I wasn’t that cold, but only because of how we were all dog-piled together. No one was making unusual noises, and I hadn’t been dreaming, as far as I recalled. So, why had I woken up?

  Listened carefully. No, the only sounds I was hearing were from our little nest. Either the katyhoppers truly slept like the dead—and my knowledge of insect sleeping sounds wouldn’t fill even the smallest of thimbles—or they were all gone. Sincerely hoped they weren’t all gone.

  I was now wide awake. Listened more intently. There had to have been a reason I’d woken up.

  No sooner had I thought this than Pinky hopped over, followed by Saffron and Turkey. Each katyhopper settled above the person who’d been riding them earlier. They didn’t sit on us so much as sit over us—their legs kept their bodies just above ours. Since we were piled together, they were right next to each other. I could tell they’d stepped on the guys, because I heard quiet grumbling from Christopher, though he sounded like he was still asleep, and Chuckie’s breathing changed and I felt him start to wake up.

  “This is really sweet of you,” I said softly, “but you guys need your sleep and to stay warm, too.”

  The katyhoppers didn’t move. They also didn’t provide a lot of warmth, probably because they had chitin instead of skin, and a hard shell rarely equaled the spreading of warmth.

  Was about to say that their efforts were great but not doing what they wanted and they should just sleep when I heard something and kept my mouth shut. I heard rustling, like I had before we’d fallen asleep. Only it was louder and seemed much closer. Realized that this sound must have been what had awakened me and probably the katyhoppers, too.

  Then I heard a sound I really hadn’t wanted to hear, a sound that sent ice
through my veins and made me sick to my stomach with fear.

  A hiss.

  CHAPTER 19

  AND NOT JUST ANY HISS. A very loud, very long, very big-sounding hiss. A hiss that sounded like it was coming from the biggest teakettle or, far more likely, the biggest snake around.

  The guys and our animals were all awake now. I’d felt them wake up, hear the sound, and freeze. And I could feel the fear—not only from those of us in our nest, but from all the katyhoppers. Whatever kind of snake-thing was out there, it was what the katyhoppers feared the most. So I had that in common with them.

  We shifted around so that we were all on our backs, looking up at our katyhoppers. What I wanted to do most was burrow under covers we didn’t have and hide. What I wanted to do next most was hide behind Chuckie and Christopher, which, considering we were all lying down, wasn’t a workable plan, either. And, what I wanted to do as a third alternate was run away as fast as possible. Of course, I had no idea where I’d run to in the first place, and in the second place, that would leave the katyhoppers alone to deal with this terrifying predator.

  However, what I did was force myself to reach up and slowly and quietly drag my purse to me. Got it over my neck and put the Poofs into it. And all the while the rustling and hissing kept on intermittently.

  As I moved Bruno onto my stomach, I realized that the rustling sounded like it was coming from above us. Meaning the snake was in the trees. Or snakes.

  Chuckie took one of my hands in his and Christopher took the other. Presumed they’d both either read my mind or were just good guessers about the state of said mind. They both squeezed my hands gently and I clutched them back in a death grip.

  The rustling got louder. And closer.

  Most of my mind was terrified because I was beyond terrified of snakes. But there was a calm part of my mind, too. Oh, it was a small part, to be sure, but a part nonetheless. And this calm part of my mind wondered if the snake always came around, or if it was coming tonight because we were here.

  We had to smell different from anything else on this planet, other than those who’d been brought over with us—if they were even on this planet. And we made noises while we slept, and the katyhoppers didn’t.

  So it could have smelled us, heard us, or both. But the likelihood that the snake was here because of us seemed awfully high.

  And that meant that dealing with it was also up to us, because the katyhoppers had helped us and protected us, and that meant we had to do the same for them.

  I had no idea what was really out there, or what would kill it, but I had one thing that was unlikely to be available on this planet—I had my Glock.

  Let go of Christopher’s hand and slid my hand into my purse, taking time to pet the Poofs along the way, more to comfort myself than to comfort them. Got my gun in my hand and drew it out slowly. The safety was on—proving, as if I needed it, that Algar had had a hand in my purse’s contents, because I still forgot to set the safety an easy nine times out of ten—and I didn’t take it off, because we were in too close of quarters to risk it.

  That Glocks in the other universe I’d visited didn’t come with safeties had been a shock. They still worked like a Glock otherwise, though, so I’d been able to stay in practice while I was gone.

  Which was hopefully going to be a good thing. I’d faced a giant snake during Operation Fugly, after all. If I’d handled the Serpent without losing it, I could handle whatever was out there in the dark. And Christopher and I had both dealt with a big rattlesnake during Operation Fugly, too. Sure, we’d blown up the apartment building where I’d lived to get rid of it, but that was due to our enemies having set bombs there more than any overkill for one deadly snake.

  And maybe if I told myself these things over and over again, I’d believe them—the Little Kitty That Could sort of thing.

  I was able to see better, and I realized this meant that the katyhopper young were waking up. This wasn’t going to be good.

  Let go of Chuckie and gently shoved at Pinky. At first the katyhopper didn’t move, but he finally got the hint and moved back a bit so that I could sit up. The guys did the same with their katyhoppers, and we were all able to get up. I hugged Bruno, then put him down.

  We all looked around. Unsurprisingly, the A-C spotted what was hunting us first.

  Christopher pointed, up as I’d surmised. Focused on where he was indicating and, after a few seconds, I could see it.

  It was a lot worse than I’d been imagining.

  The snake above us wasn’t as big as the Serpent, so we had that going for us. Unfortunately, it was easily triple anaconda-sized, especially in girth. And it also had wings. Lots and lots and lots of little wings on its back. It also had some weird, short, antenna-like protrusions above its eyes.

  Basically it was a snake crossed with a centipede, only instead of a ton of little legs on the underside, it had all those wings on top. Presumed it was in the purple family, because it was hard to see and I figured we were only able to catch a glimpse because our eyes were adjusted to the light and all the katyhopper babies were awake.

  Though the glow wasn’t as light as I would have expected. Risked a look around and saw all the adults with young standing over them, just as Pinky, Saffron, and Turkey had done with us. So they’d been protecting us from the predator.

  “Is it inside the nest’s protection?” I asked as softly as possible.

  Pinky moved his antennae just a little, presumably his way of speaking softly in kind. Snakes were good at catching small movements, too, so he was probably trying to remain unnoticed. But basically, I got the impression that his answer was a terrified “not sure.”

  Didn’t want to, but I forced myself to focus on the snakipede. If I could sense a mind there, maybe I could communicate with it, make it a friend, or at least make it go away.

  But I got nothing. Whether this meant that there was no mind there—which I doubted—or that I either had no affinity with said mind, and vice versa, I couldn’t say. But my mind melding with the snakipede appeared to be out as a workable option.

  There was a good chance the snakipede was sentient to a higher degree than snakes on Earth—the katyhoppers certainly were. But I didn’t care. It was threatening our new friends—friends who’d gone out of their way to protect us—and that made it an enemy. And Christopher and I both had something that, potentially, the snakipede didn’t—hyperspeed. And I had a gun with a lot of bullets.

  The snakipede reared back all of a sudden, hissed in a triumphant manner, and slammed its head toward the nest, jaws open, huge fangs gleaming in the low light. Whatever the illusion was that protected this area, it shattered. Literally. Shards of iridescent something floated down like snowflakes.

  The katyhoppers made sounds now, the same sounds that our three had done before—the screeching that sounded like a rusty metal door being opened slowly—only it was all of them, extremely loud and incredibly close.

  The sound was painful, but the snakipede wasn’t stopped. It sailed in toward the nest.

  Mom had spent a lot of time working with me on relaxed, rapid-fire shooting. Christopher had worked with me for several years now, perfecting my ability to get to my inherited A-C skills when I wasn’t enraged.

  Which was good, because I wasn’t mad—I was terrified. But the katyhoppers were more terrified. Each were grabbing young and trying to fly to safety, but the snakipede was fast and above us, and it was striking to keep all of them down and inside. And, unlike a regular snake, because of its wings, it didn’t need to land on anything.

  I aimed for the snakipede’s head, ready to shoot. But it was moving too much and too fast for me to shoot without risking killing a katyhopper. But it was getting closer to them, and one of the next strikes was going to include a katyhopper death—at least one, if not many more. A snake this size could easily eat the entire colony.

  That
left me really only one option. Took a huge breath, let it out slowly, put up my Glock, and shouted, “Hey! Over here, you horrible nightmare!” At the top of my lungs.

  Which worked. Because the snakipede zigged when it had been zagging toward a katyhopper family and aimed right for me and everyone in my nest. So, you know, go me.

  CHAPTER 20

  AS THE GIANT snakipede flew straight toward us, I ignored everything else and focused on its horrible head. Took aim—right between its eyes and antenna-like protrusions—and fired.

  Emptied the clip into the snakipede’s head, reached into my purse, pulled out another clip, dropped out the old, put in the new. At hyperspeed. And without missing a beat. Then I emptied the new clip into the thing’s head, particularly into its gaping, open maw.

  The snakipede’s head exploded and the Poofs took over.

  They went large and in charge, roared, then leaped onto the rest of the snakipede and devoured it in moments. Burped discreetly, then went small and back into my purse. All this only took a couple of seconds. Clearly the Poofs had been starving.

  “Wow, got a double. Killed the terrifying monster and fed four out of our five animal companions. Go team. Can I cry, freak out, and throw up now?”

  “No, but that was impressive as hell,” Chuckie said, voice shaking just a bit. “Truly.”

  “I agree, and I just hope to hell you didn’t kill the katyhopper’s god or something,” Christopher added.

  It was hard to tell if the katyhoppers were relieved, freaked out, still frightened, or all three. But the three with us stayed with us, so that was good. Especially when the elders flew up and started waving antennae about like antenna waving was going out of style and they needed to use up their full supply before sunrise.

  Pinky, Saffron, and Turkey all waved antennae right back. It didn’t take an insect languages genius to realize they were arguing. But I also didn’t need Bruno to translate. Meaning I was getting more simpatico with the katyhoppers, which was hopefully a good thing.