by Clare Murray
She cast about in memory. “There was a ship he talked about… One of the wrecks near the mothership that caused the scars.”
“Was it shot down by us?” Gareth asked.
“No, I think this one was more or less intact. That’s why he wanted to go check it out. Some people wanted to try to move it, or break it apart, but in the end, people left it alone. Guess they were too busy focusing on survival to go mess with alien stuff.”
“That’s a good starting point,” Finn said. He pulled out a map, pushing the muffin debris aside to unroll it across the table. “Yeah, it’s marked here. There’s another wreck nearby, one that was shot down by antiaircraft missiles, so we’ll be looking for the wreck to the north.”
The Twins went into what she could only term as soldier mode, chatting rapid-fire to each other about longitude, latitude, sunset times, weapons, provisions. She listened with half an ear, gazing around the kitchen from her seat. There were a few little knickknacks decorating the room—a pink-haired miniature troll, seashells on the windowsill. A framed picture of three smiling people hung near the cupboard.
How long had it been since she’d sat in an actual kitchen? Her shipping-container dwelling had possessed only the basics—certainly not anything like this. It brought back memories of her childhood that were almost uncomfortable to think about.
Undoubtedly, Mari would never again sit in a kitchen eating chocolate ice cream. Her family’s house in Portland was probably long gone, burned down or worse. And it was stupid to get all emotional about stuff she’d never do again.
Gareth mercifully interrupted that train of thought by rising and striding to the door. “I’ll be back in a bit.”
“Where’s he going?” she asked Finn.
Finn gave her an appraising look. “Back to our place to get supplies. Are you okay?”
“Just daydreaming.” She shrugged, tracing a pattern on the table.
“About what?”
It was strange to have someone so interested in her. Mari’s best friend, Sara, hadn’t had much time to chat after her marriage, and Dad’s sickness stole the keen edge of his mind. So Mari floundered for a few minutes, during which Finn remained patient, watching her steadily.
“I—was remembering the days before. I don’t do that a whole lot because it seems self-defeating.”
“Hard to forget certain comforts, though.”
“Did you have many of those at your…Complex?”
“We weren’t pampered.” It was her turn to wait him out. He broke eye contact, shrugged after thirty seconds of silence. “Some of the scientists felt we ought to be toughened up, kept in deliberately poor conditions as training.”
“Assholes.”
“Yeah. Fortunately, their views tended to be counterbalanced. Our DNA is primarily human, with some modifications, so the psychiatrists involved insisted on a more normalized childhood experience. So there was a foster-mother and father for each set of Twins.”
Primarily human, with some modifications? She recalled hearing some fuss about that when she was very young, but most of the furor had died down by the time she was old enough to understand, overshadowed by the approaching alien ships.
“And now?” she asked. “Who runs the Complex?”
He gave her a tight smile. “Depends who you ask.”
For a moment, she entertained the crazy notion of going there with the Twins, living there for a while and seeing for herself. Then she startled out of that fantasy as Patrice walked through the door. Tank bounded in with a wide Rottweiler smile and curled up in his bed after a perfunctory sniff at them.
“Let’s get going.” Gareth strode in on the old woman’s heels, a large pack strapped to his back. Sunlight glinted off the hilt of a knife at his belt.
“Now?” Mari squeaked.
“If not now, when?” Gareth held out his arm and she took it by reflex, grateful for his strength as he assisted her up.
“Next week would do,” she muttered.
“Do you think you’re not physically capable of the journey?” Gareth asked.
No, you’ve screwed me silly, she wanted to say. I can’t even walk straight now.
But she drew herself up, shook her head. “I can make it.”
“You won’t have to walk far, actually. I requisitioned a vehicle before I bought the muffins. Perks of being government-employed.” Gareth led her to the door, Finn following. Patrice waved a good-bye, chuckling when Finn pointed to the muffin he’d saved for her.
“Thanks. You three be safe now, hear?”
“We will.” Finn shut the door behind them and turned. Immediately, a frown creased his face, and Mari followed his gaze. Two junkies crouched in an alleyway across from Patrice’s house, one perched on a bucket. One of them looked intently at the door, nudging his comrade and muttering something.
Finn took a step forward, but Gareth was quicker. He crossed the street in two strides, scooping up the junkie and slamming him against the wall. “What were you saying about that house?” he snarled.
“N-nothing, man!”
“Hey, let go of him.” The other junkie stood up, swaying as he stuffed a fraying plastic bag into his pocket. He puffed himself up, but his bravado died when Gareth looked at him, and he backed away. “All right, we’re going now, we’ll go. No need for trouble.”
“Good, because if anyone even so much as jiggles the lock on that house, I’ll be coming after you. Both of you.” Gareth dropped the junkie he was holding and the man staggered backward, breathing heavily. As they watched, the men hustled out of sight, casting furtive looks over their shoulders.
“Do you think they’ll come back?” Mari asked. She stared at Gareth with new respect. God, he’d been scary. Too bad he couldn’t do that to Tim.
“They won’t be back until tonight, if then. Tank is probably all bite and very little bark.” Gareth took her arm again, and they set off down the street, Mari sandwiched between them. Although it was midmorning, the sun was bright and hot, which was a fine thing for all the solar panels dotted around the place, but not so great for their expedition.
In fact, as they neared the walls, Mari had to beat back panic. If her arms weren’t linked with the Twins’, she would have grasped the handle of her Glock, which she wore at her waist. They walked through what had once been downtown. A few years ago, the authorities had cordoned off the upper parts of the large buildings since they had become unsafe, but she caught sight of someone disappearing through a broken glass door. At least the roads were clear, even if they were mostly potholes by now.
A woman riding a bicycle past them flicked a shrewd gaze up and down Mari, then the Twins, as if assessing them. A few streets over, two male voices rose in slurred argument. Mari kept walking, glad that she had Finn and Gareth to keep her company.
To keep her safe, she amended. God, she would never have survived out here alone. For that matter, she wouldn’t have survived the initial train journey.
Even so, her entire spirit bucked like a green-broke horse when they came into sight of the gate. The men didn’t break stride, sweeping her toward the high wall as if they were on their way to a picnic. Then, just as she thought they were about to walk right through the huge, metal-reinforced gates, they halted and Gareth split off.
“Where’s he going now?” Her voice came out shaky, and Finn immediately drew her closer, his strong embrace providing comfort.
“He’s getting our motorcycle.”
“What, am I going to ride on your shoulders or something?” Nervousness made the sarcasm bite deeper than she meant it to, and she flinched.
“Nah, there’s a sidecar.” He glanced down at her. “You’re really worried, aren’t you?”
Her nod was short and sharp. “Sorry.”
“You think you’ll cope?”
Carter hadn’t. But it wasn’t like
she was going to go rooting around in any houses. So she nodded again. And any further questions were precluded by the throaty roar of a motorcycle. Gareth rolled to a stop next to them, handing out helmets.
Mari pulled the black helmet over her head, and the world became muffled. The visor was slightly tinted to help keep out the glare of the sun. Maybe if she closed her eyes and tried hard enough, she could pretend she was at home in bed instead of outside the safety of the walls.
Finn mounted the bike behind his brother, gesturing for Mari to climb into the sidecar. She did so, having a brief flashback to when she’d ridden a roller coaster as a pre-teen. Her nervous giggle was swallowed by the helmet—at least there would be no loop-de-loops to endure. Gripping the metal bar, she eased into the seat, noting that the pack was stowed there as well.
As soon as she was in, Gareth revved the engine and eased through the gates. The guards watched them with vague interest, perhaps thinking they were scavengers chancing the lean pickings of the former suburbs. They were the only ones on the road. Even partially solar-powered bikes needed a little fuel, and fuel wasn’t cheap these days.
Still, the government’s authority carried weight, even here in a failing City. Perhaps especially in a failing City, where they were eager to clutch at any straws they could—including government money.
To keep her mind off the fact that they were now out in the open, Mari took deep breaths, forcing herself to recall the interior of her family’s old car. An electric-powered vehicle, it had been top of its range. Her parents had loved taking it out on road trips.
They’d sold it in Seattle to get money for food and lodging. Her father hadn’t found much in the way of work, so the car money had been their bread and butter for quite some time.
Gareth picked up speed, dodging the larger potholes. The bike had good suspension, so the smaller bumps didn’t rattle it too much, but Mari held on all the same. The sidecar had a windshield on it, so the double protection of that plus her visor made her feel a touch more confident.
Even so, the road grew rougher as the miles stretched out behind them. Mari didn’t look back. She knew what she would see: the wall, too far away to run to. Although motley and heavily repaired with patches of concrete, dirt and barbed wire, it still represented protection and safety. She breathed in, out, counting to five with each breath. It was the best she could manage.
Once upon a time, Mari had loved being in the middle of the wilderness, backpacking miles from civilization with her father. Dad had loved talking about natural science with her as they hiked. Back then, the only things to worry about were wild animals and bug bites.
Now… Mari shuddered, recalling the unnatural way the predator aliens had moved, had hunted them on the train, howling for reinforcements. How her bullet had taken the leader in its mouth, blowing a hole through its nearly translucent skin, yet it had loped away like it was no big deal.
She looked over her shoulder then, unable to help herself. The helmet swallowed her terrified moan. Ravaged land—far too much of it—lay between them and the wall, which was now the size of a child’s set of building blocks, with its concrete turrets jabbing almost absurdly against the blue sky.
I’ll be okay. I’ll be okay. The words became a litany as they roared onward. The Twins had obviously noted her distress, looking sidelong at her and being extra careful around potholes, but to her relief, they didn’t stop the motorcycle. That would have been mortifying—and she would have been far too tempted to throw herself on their mercy and beg to return to the City.
I’ll be okay.
The buildings—mainly houses, with some casinos and supermarkets—nearest the City had all been torn down, demolished to prevent the Barks from hiding there during daylight hours. Over time, debris had been carted off to reinforce the wall or had simply rotted. People cultivated the land now, growing crops out here in small plots they tended themselves. The yield was probably low given the climate, but even a handful of potatoes could mean the difference between starvation and survival.
When they reached the first mostly intact houses, Mari knew they were really far out. In the distance, one of the scars sliced across the land, sending a faint hint of smoke into the air. Still burning in places, even after eleven years—what kind of crazy technology did these aliens have?
And what inroads had her father made into discovering them? What had he discovered that made him want to run?
Mari squinted through her visor, a measure of relief blossoming through formless panic. There it was. The spaceship, in all its glory, resting atop a scorched patch of earth. Its landing had blown nearby houses down, thank all that was holy, so there were no nearby dark places for the Barks to lurk, watching them.
She half expected to see a burned-out hulk. But the ship was in remarkably good shape, its body gleaming in the sunlight. The thing was surprisingly high, longer and wider than it was tall. It was a sort of mottled gray, a color she’d never encountered, and one which seemed to change as her gaze flicked from one point to the other, turning darker, then lighter.
Why had her father been so interested in their spaceships? Mari frowned. He’d insisted upon visiting the one near their cabin in Oregon, a tiny one in good shape. In retrospect, it had been perfectly safe, since the aliens had all bounded off to hunt humans in major metropolises where they could kill more. Yet Mari had resented his curiosity, wishing she could ignore the stupid aliens and go back to life as normal.
“You have to know your enemy,” her father had explained when she’d voiced her resentment. That had been the only explanation he’d provided, although he did eventually concede to her mother and flee behind the safety of Seattle’s hastily built walls.
When the motorcycle came to a halt beside the towering ship, Mari removed her helmet and got out of the sidecar, stretching slightly stiff legs. The panic attack had receded, but it still lurked, ready to pounce any time. The Twins remained silent as she walked alongside the grounded ship. It was big—easily a third of a mile long—and by all accounts, the motherships were even larger. The one that had been shot down nearby, leaving the scars, had left a mile-wide crater.
This ship was smaller but still capable of carrying a good amount of Barks. She began to circle it, occasionally running a hand along its shiny surface. Nearby, Finn took some photos with a small device, shooting close-ups at several points.
At one end of the ship, there were some paler marks. She placed her hand atop them, frowning. How was this ship powered? There were no external rockets or thrusters that she could see.
Mari continued to explore the paler marks. They were flat, and a series of them ran straight up the ship’s spine. Had her father seen them? Impulsively, she began to climb them. The material of the ship was strangely giving under her weight, almost molding itself to her feet as if actively trying to support her. Although it was unnerving, she kept going until she reached the top.
Only then did she realize the Twins hadn’t followed her.
Chapter Five
Mari tensed, sinking to her knees atop the spaceship as she scanned the area for Finn and Gareth. Hadn’t they been right behind her?
God, she was high up—higher than she had initially realized. With no nearby buildings to make a comparison to, she leaned out and peered down at the ground. A hundred feet, perhaps? In any case, she leaned back and blinked to clear momentary dizziness.
“Mari?” The voice was distant, windblown.
“Up here!” she shouted, and prayed they had heard her. She wasn’t going to risk leaning over the curved edge again.
Fortunately, they appeared almost immediately at the base of the steps. The ship was shaped like an elongated droplet of water, so she was able to watch them climb, fidgeting guiltily as they grew closer. Oddly enough, heights intimidated her a lot less than being outside the walls. And now that she was up here, she wanted to look around—although she plan
ned to stick to crawling, since standing upright seemed too risky in this wind.
Turning her attention back to the ship, she began to explore the area where the steps flattened out. There was an odd flap there, which she pulled open with some trepidation. Inside were a series of three strange, plunger-like extensions. That made sense, since the Barks all had those sucker appendages. Her father would be really excited by this, taking notes and speculating out loud.
Mari had no notepad or pen, so she simply pulled one of the extensions.
The spaceship vibrated under her knees, emitting a single, deep groan. Then a gray expanse reared up in front of her. Stunned, Mari took in the sight, dumbly registering strange, triangle-shaped hinges that segmented away to allow a kind of door to open up. Before she could react, a multitude of guttural howls rose into the air, so loud they made her ears ring.
Barks? Here?
Mari shrieked in terrified reply, falling over herself as she half threw herself down the stairs in the direction of the ground. What had she unleashed? She half lost her balance, shoving head-first into an unyielding, masculine chest. Part of her recognized Finn. Another larger part gibbered at her to run. She took a deep breath, ready to scream.
But his arms held her still, and she exhaled on a whimper, clinging to him. If he wasn’t running or fighting, that must mean they were safe.
“I opened the ship.” Her voice was tremulous, little more than a whisper, but he heard her.
“Yes, you did. And there’s a shitload of Barks inside. Some of ’em got scorched, I bet.” He sounded almost amused. “Looks like this is one of their favorite hiding places during daylight hours. Are you okay?”
“Physically, yes. Mentally…” She shuddered.
“It’s all right now.” Finn continued to hold her tightly, and she felt Gareth’s arms close around her as well.
“We let you go for one minute, and this is what happens,” Finn joked.
“I pulled the thingy,” Mari blurted. Relief at being safe made her a little punch-drunk.
