by R. D. Brady
“Yeah, yeah, you should do that.”
Norah felt the car accelerate and knew that Bob was imagining germs floating through the inside of the car, heading straight for him. And she couldn’t help herself—she coughed.
Bob’s knuckles turned white on the steering wheel and Norah put her hand to her mouth to cover her smile. “Yeah, I’m really not feeling so well.”
Bob turned into the motel parking lot practically on two wheels. He slammed to a stop in front of Norah’s room. “You should get some sleep. I’ll call Sanders as well and tell him you need a few days.”
Norah opened her door. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”
Bob didn’t even wait for the door to close all the way before he pulled away. He didn’t pull into a spot but left the parking lot through the other exit. Norah knew he was headed to the nearest drugstore to load up on zinc and buy whatever he could to sanitize the car.
She laughed to herself as she headed to her door. But then her smile disappeared as the enormity of what she was doing hit her. She was obstructing an investigation. She was lying to her partner. And she was actively concealing a target wanted by the U.S. government.
And as much as she hated to admit it, Bob was right. She didn’t know the extent of Iggy’s abilities. He could be dangerous. You need to turn him in, the rational part of herself argued as she stepped to her door.
She could hear the TV through the door. The ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign was still hanging on the outside. She pushed back her jacket, her hand on her gun, before keying open the door. She slowly opened it. Iggy lay curled up in front of the TV, his chest rising and falling slowly. She stepped in quickly, closing the door behind her. The flickering images on the TV caught her eye as Mickey Mouse danced across the screen. Iggy didn’t wake as she placed her bag on the desk. He lay quietly, something white clutched to his chest. Peering at it, Norah realized it was one of the bathroom towels. It had been folded and he now clutched it like it was a teddy bear.
He looked so little, so alone, that Norah felt tears press to the back of her eyelids. She sank onto the bed. She knew she would never be able to turn him in. They’d kill him. But she couldn’t hide him forever.
Once again, she wished she had been able to track down Leander. If anyone would be an ally for the little guy, it was her. But Leander was being hidden very well.
Norah ran a hand through her hair as she watched Iggy sleep, knowing she’d made a decision. All right, little guy. I’ll get you somewhere safe.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
OUTSIDE THE ARCHES, UTAH
The house was small. Floral wallpaper lined the small foyer and up the staircase. There was a small living room to the right with a faded blue couch and two threadbare, pink chenille armchairs. The dining room was to the left, although instead of a dining set it held a queen-sized bed with a white quilt.
Tilda nodded to the bed. “I thought you might want to sleep down here. There’s a bathroom just down the hall.”
Maeve met her gaze, still not sure what to make of the woman.
Tilda must have read the questions on Maeve face. “Once you get them settled, I’ll be in the kitchen. We can talk.” Tilda glanced at Pop asleep in Maeve’s arms. “They are amazing,” she whispered, awe in her voice. She reached out a hand as if to stroke Pop but then thought better of it and pulled her hand back, heading down the hall with a perfectly straight back and energy in her step.
Maeve watched her go, feeling like she could sleep for a week. But she needed to know more about Tilda. When she’d looked at the triplets, it had been with wonder. She turned to Greg to ask him what he knew about her and how he’d ended up with her. But she was distracted when Alvie pulled the quilt back and Greg laid Crack and Snapple down. Maeve’s heart clenched as she realized how close she had come to losing them all today. She hugged Pop tighter, her breathing becoming unsteady.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Greg moved to her side. “They’re all right. All of them. And you guys are safe.”
But not Chris, she thought but couldn’t get the words past her lips.
“Look, you’ve been through a lot. You’re exhausted, scared. A decent night’s sleep and the world will look better. Trust me.”
She knew he was right. But she wasn’t quite ready for sleep yet.
Maeve lay Pop next to Crackle and Snap, and then tucked the quilt around all of them. She ran a hand over each of their heads. Today had been rough for them. Emotional upheaval seemed to have double the impact on them. She thought it might be due in part to their age. But Alvie struggled with emotional upheavals as well. She looked at him now and his large eyes looked even larger. She opened up her arms and he rushed into them, burying his head in her chest.
Hope tried to join the embrace, but Greg snatched her up. Hope licked him repeatedly in response. Greg smiled but held the squirming puppy a little farther away. “I’ll see if I can find some food for this one. We’ll be in the kitchen when you’re ready.”
Maeve nodded over Alvie’s head. She started to rock gently with him in her arms. And then she started to shake. Alvie hugged her tighter.
“It’s okay. We’re all safe. It’s okay.”
An image of Chris wafted through her mind and her heart clenched again.
“I know. But Chris is smart, capable. He will have seen them coming. And without us to worry about, he’d be able to take care of himself. He’s fine. He’ll find us.”
But she could still feel Alvie’s fear. And even though she believed her words, she felt the same fear. All it took was one distracted moment, and they could lose each other. What if Chris had been sleeping or drugged or—
She squeezed her eyes tight, cutting off that train of thought. The world of ‘what if’ was a dangerous and damaging place. She needed to deal with the here and now. She would face the ache of something happening to Chris when she knew for certain that something had. She would not put herself through that, or any of them, until she had to.
She stayed with Alvie wrapped in her arms for another ten minutes, until his tremors had subsided. She rubbed his back in lazy circles and spoke softly into his ear. “You did great tonight. You helped save us. Thank you, Alvie.”
He looked up at her and smiled.
She smiled back. “You are an incredible person, Alvie. We are all very lucky to have you.” He leaned forward so his forehead leaned against hers, and a feeling of love washed over her.
I love you, too. When he leaned back, his eyelids were drooping. She pulled back the blankets and scooted him toward the pillow. “Get some sleep.”
He gripped her hand.
“I won’t let anything happen to you.” She nodded to the triplets, their breathing now a little wheeze that squeezed her heart. “Or to them. Sleep.”
He closed his eyes and Maeve stayed by their side until she was sure Alvie was asleep. But even then she couldn’t quite bring herself to leave them. Hope trotted back inside, placing her two paws on Maeve’s lap and licking her.
Maeve rubbed the dog’s side as Greg stepped into the doorway. After a lingering glance at the sleeping aliens, he whispered, “There’s something you need to see.”
Maeve patted the bed. “Up, Hope.”
Hope hopped up, turning in circles a few times before curling up at Alvie’s feet. “Watch over them, girl.” Maeve stood up and followed Greg, hoping that whatever Greg was about to show her was something that would not rip all of their worlds apart.
Again.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Maeve paused just outside the doorway of the kitchen, steeling herself before she stepped in. The kitchen looked like it hadn’t been renovated in years. The wooden cabinets were missing a few handles and the yellow linoleum counters had seen better days, as had the wallpaper with yellow and brown flowers. Tilda and Greg looked up from their spots at the old kitchen table.
Greg stood up. “Sit here, Maeve. You need to see this.”
Maeve held up a hand. “Okay, before I loo
k at anything, I want some answers. Who are you? Greg, how are you alive? We mourned you!”
Greg blanched. “I know, I know, you have a ton of questions. But I have the answer to the most important one right now—Chris.”
Maeve went still and then hurried forward. She peered at the laptop screen. Chris stood, his gun trained on the back of a man’s head. Then he knocked the man out and rifled through his pockets before disappearing from the frame. He was picked up again in a parking lot with dozens of people milling around. She watched him get into a car and drive out of the lot and the frame. She sank into the chair feeling lightheaded. She wanted to cry, scream, and curl up in a ball all at once. But being she had an audience, she did none of that. She simply let out a shaky breath. “He’s all right.”
Tilda nodded. “He was attacked at his hotel. But he survived and then took off in that car. So as of two hours ago, he was fine.”
Relief weakened Maeve’s limbs. Thank God.
Tilda stood up and went to the stove, pouring a cup of tea from the teapot and placing it in front of Maeve. “Here. Something hot always helps me when I’ve had a shock.”
Maeve took a sip and was thankful no one commented on how much her cup shook. She let the warmth fill her up and then placed the cup back down. “Okay. That’s one answer. Now let’s hear another.” She turned to Greg. “How are you alive?”
He grinned. “Well, that’s kind of a cool story.”
Las Vegas, Nevada
Greg stared at the two blobs heading toward him. I remember you. He was pretty sure they were the same as that thing he’d seen race across the ceiling at Area 51. As if to confirm it, a third blob appeared from the hallway and climbed up the ceiling the same way the one at 51 had …
Oh, good. I was right, Greg thought, his mind spinning as he backed up, frantically trying to figure out a way out of this mess.
Guess jumping from a two-story window it is. He ran for the window, trying not to imagine how much it was going to hurt when he hit the ground below. Or how difficult it was going to be to run away from these things when he no doubt broke both his legs. One problem at a time. He raised the blinds on the window and then dove for the side as a shape crashed through it. Greg rolled, his back slamming painfully into the legs of a weight bench.
The shape landed on the ground in a crouch and then straightened. The shape was of a man with dark glasses, dark clothes, and strikingly blonde hair.
The man pulled a long gun from his back and then pulled the trigger. Blue flame shot from the gun and engulfed the thing on the ceiling. It squealed, dropping to the ground. The other two backed up for a moment and then rushed forward. The man turned the nozzle on both of them. They burst into flame, making the same horrific squealing noise. Dark smoke began to spread through the room.
Greg lay on the ground, stunned. He turned to look up at the man, but the man didn’t even glance at him. He pulled a round object from his belt and Greg stumbled to his feet. “No!”
The man threw the grenade toward the stairs, where more squeals sounded. Then the whole building shuddered and debris flew up the stairs as the grenade exploded.
Holy shit. How many are there? Greg turned to the man. “You’re here to help me, right?”
The man nodded.
“Great. Um, but I think you just blew up our only way out.” The creatures he’d torched had stopped making noises or moving, but the fire that had taken them out had started to spread. The thing on the ceiling crashed to the ground, taking part of the ceiling with it. Greg stumbled back, but his new buddy stood there unmoving.
Great. He’s one of those ‘I don’t run from explosions’ guys.
The man moved to the window and gestured for Greg to approach. Okay, guy’s not a talker, Greg thought as he hustled to the window. “Uh, dude, not to rush you, but it’s getting a little toasty. Uh, are you with the government? Some sort of protection detail? Because I’d like to register a complaint about my level of protection.”
The man said nothing, just looped a rope under Greg’s arms. And Greg noticed the man was still attached to the rope he’d used to swing through the room.
Greg coughed. The smoke was getting really thick. The man tugged him to the windowsill. Greg frowned down at the rope. “What’s this—”
The man stepped onto the windowsill and pulled Greg out with him.
Greg let out a yell as he swung out into open air. He grabbed the rope, holding on as the man pulled out a remote. The rope started to pull them to the roof.
Greg was almost at the roof level when the windows on the first floor blew out. Oh, man, Frank, I am so sorry.
His silent hero grabbed onto the edge of the roof and pulled them over the side. Greg crashed to the ground and lay panting on the rooftop. “Holy crap. That was cool.” He got to his knees. “And not to question your rescuing abilities, but there’s no way down from here. And well, you know, the building is actually on fire.”
The man walked over to a black duffel bag. Part of the roof collapsed near the stairwell door. Greg yelped. “Dude, we really need to—”
The man stood up, a long harpoon gun in his arm.
“Whoa! Whoa! Um, look you’ve got a plan. I got that. I’m just going to—” The man pointed the weapon at Greg and he dove for the ground, his hands covering his head. “No!”
The harpoon shot through the air over Greg’s head, a rope attached to it. Greg looked up as the man cut the other half of the rope and then tied it off on a telephone pole.
Greg stood up and looked at where the harpoon was embedded in the wall of the office building across the street, only about eight feet from the ground. Greg grinned. “Wow, that’s like serious Batman stuff.”
The man grabbed the rope still attached under Greg’s arms and pulled him to the ledge.
“Hey, hey, no pulling. Just use your words. You have words, right?”
The man attached a carabiner to Greg’s rope and to the rope leading to the street. He attached a zip line handle as well and placed Greg’s hands on it.
“Hold on,” the man said.
“How do I—”
The man pushed Greg off the roof. Greg let out a yell, holding on in terror as images of his life whipped before his eyes. I need to spend less time playing video games, he realized even as he let out a scream.
The building came up fast, and Greg knew he was going to splat right into it. Great. People will ask, how did Greg die? As a human pancake.
He closed his eyes, preparing for the inevitable crash. Then his shoulders were jarred as his descent came to an abrupt halt. He opened one eye. He was two feet shy of the wall. “Huh.”
The rope shook and he saw the man had started his own descent.
“Oh crap.” Greg released his hold on the handle and then had to practically do a pull-up to release the carabiner. He dropped to the ground and hustled out of the way seconds before the man stopped in the same spot. Greg leaned back against the wall, breathing hard. “Holy crap. That was awesome.” He grinned at the guy. “You really don’t talk much, do you?”
The man shouldered the duffel bag he’d brought with him after yanking the harpoon out of the wall. “Run.”
Greg stood up with a frown. “What? I thought you were the good guy.”
The man turned Greg around. Two giant blobs were heading straight for them.
“Run,” the guy said again, taking off, and Greg sprinted down the street after him.
“Adam had a car stashed two blocks away. We made it there and took off before the things could catch us.” Greg grinned.
Tilda raised an eyebrow at his statement.
Greg rolled his eyes. “Okay, well maybe Adam blowtorched both of them as well. But I think we can all agree that the important point is we both got away. And now here we are.”
“It was creatures from 51 that went after you?” Maeve asked.
“Yeah, that big, horrible blob thing that chased you and Chris across the foyer, remember?”
Ma
eve pictured the mad dash she, Chris, and Alvie had run, leading a group of lethal aliens toward a group of military personnel who had orders to kill everything on the base, including the humans.
Maeve frowned. “But how did it find you? I mean, that seems like an awfully big coincidence.” Maeve paused. “Just like that creature at the ranch coincidentally found us.”
Greg looked at Tilda before speaking. “Yeah, we don’t think it’s a coincidence, either.”
“And it’s not the first time that the aliens have gone after people from 51,” Tilda said.
“From 51 specifically?”
Tilda nodded. “There were about two dozen people who survived. Most of them have died under unusual circumstances.”
“What does that mean?” Maeve asked.
“You remember Regina West from 51? Well, she was found with these raised suction marks on her body. The coroner said she died from anaphylactic shock, but her family said she was not allergic to anything, and the coroner can’t identify the bite.”
Maeve’s mind whirled. There was no chance those creatures just lucked upon the people from 51. “How’s that possible? That they could track people? They shouldn’t have those abilities.”
Greg looked at Maeve. “Maeve, today wasn’t the first time aliens came for you.”
“What?” Shock made her voice harsher than she’d meant.
“Your protection detail has kept you safe,” Tilda said.
Maeve’s mouth dropped open. “The false alarms.”
“They weren’t false alarms. They were breaches. Your security just didn’t tell you,” Tilda said.
The sense of betrayal cut deep. She’d known Wilson had his own agenda. But how did leaving them unaware of a very real threat help that agenda? “Why? I mean, they were there—”
Tilda cut in. “To keep tabs on you. Yes. Part of that was keeping you safe. But the overall priority was to make sure you stayed where you were put until President Wilson figured out how you could be useful to him.”
