The Traveler

by Melissa Delport

  “No!” I yell, realizing what he is about to do as the storm clouds roll in over our heads darkening the sky. Ignoring the pain in my left hand I grab both of his arms trying to pin them down. “Don’t shoot!” I shriek, praying that they can hear me over the sudden howling wind, “we’re human!” I move to stand in front of Dex, forcing him to make eye contact with me, and I place my hand on his chest. I can see the red imprint of my hand on his cheek. “Please don’t do this,” I plead, “please, they’re just protecting themselves.” Slowly, the green glow fades from his eyes and the wind dies down until there is absolute silence in the garden.

  “What the hell?” Jason collides heavily with the screen door as he erupts into the yard, his eyes wild with panic. “What’s going on?” He screeches to a halt beside us, scanning the area until his eyes fall on the trapdoor which is now sporting a large hole, thanks to the recent shot fired. “Are there people down there?” he asks and I nod, maintaining eye contact with Dex.

  “Hey!” Jason hollers, banging on the trapdoor, “Come on out, we’re not going to hurt you!”

  I hear the metallic slide of the deadbolt and then slowly the door rises and a wary face peers out of the crack. Seemingly satisfied that we are indeed human, the man hoists the door open so that it falls with a soft thud onto the grass beside it and he clambers out of the shelter, followed by a red-headed woman and two red-headed teenage children – a boy and a girl, the obvious occupants of the bedrooms upstairs. I can feel Dex bristling beside me.

  “Jason, get them inside,” I urge and understanding dawns on his face. “Don’t tell them,” I add in a low murmur and he nods his head in understanding before quickly shepherding the family indoors. Dex follows their progress, an angry snarl on his face.

  “Dex,” I wait until I once again have his undivided attention. “Please, please don’t hurt them.”

  “You just don’t get it Rachel. They’re going to die anyway.”

  “Maybe,” I nod, swallowing back the lump in my throat, “but I am asking you not to hurt them.”

  “Don’t for one second think that you will deter me from my mission,” he warns menacingly and I shiver involuntarily. He is such an enigma. It’s obvious that he doesn’t want any harm to come to me, but he feels nothing for mankind.

  “Why are you so intent on keeping me alive?” I ask.

  “You know why.”

  “No, I don’t. I really don’t. Explain it to me.”

  “We have a history,” he replies, “it would weigh too heavily on my conscience if anything bad were to happen to you.” It’s not quite the answer I was expecting, but if guilt is the reason I’m still alive, I’ll take it. I walk across to a quaint garden bench and sit down and after a moment he joins me.

  “I could have died,” I point out. “I found you – you weren’t looking for me. I could have died before I found you. So why now is it so important to you that I’m safe? It obviously wasn’t before.” He doesn’t reply for a while and a look of confusion passes across his face. Almost as if he doesn’t understand it himself.

  “I... I didn’t remember. Not really. But when I saw you in the park...” he seems to visibly shake himself and then he stands, drawing himself up to his full height and glaring down at me. “Look, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that you did find me. And now I will make sure no harm comes to you.”

  “You killed your own people to keep me safe,” I begin tentatively and his eyes narrow. “What makes you think you can protect me from all of them? You said yourself there are thousands.”

  “I will keep you safe,” he replies.

  “Even if you have to kill your own kind?”

  “Yes. Although I don’t relish the thought.”

  “Won’t they figure out what you’re doing? Surely they’ll hunt you down?”

  “They won’t harm me if they can help it.”

  “Why not?” I can see that he doesn’t like my questioning, he doesn’t want to divulge any more than he has to. His loyalty is still with his own people and his guilt will only get me so far. “Why won’t they hurt you, Dex? Because you’re their General? Don’t you think they will kind of ignore that fact if they realize your allegiance has changed?” I coax gently.

  “My allegiance hasn’t changed,” he says sharply. I keep quiet, not knowing what to say to that. “They won’t hurt me because I’m royalty,” he explains eventually.

  “What, like their king?” I almost laugh.

  “No, more like their prince,” he replies, completely serious.

  “Their prince? Okay...” I trail off unsure of what to say. Unbelievable, I think hysterically. Not only did I have a relationship with an alien, but he just happens to be a member of the royal family. I really was a screwed-up kid. “So, should I call you Prince Dexon?” I grin, and again that small smile plays about his lips.

  “Dex is just fine, Rachel.”

  “So you’re their prince and their General? You’re the one in charge?”

  “No,” he shakes his head. “It’s not that simple. There are other...” he stops abruptly. “It’s nothing to do with you. The point is that they won’t harm me unless they absolutely have to. And I won’t stop until I know you’re safe.”

  “And the others?” I probe. He runs his hand through his hair, exhaling a deep breath.

  “All right, fine. I’ll help the others too.”

  “And the family?” I know I am pushing it but I need to know they will be safe too. He almost rolls his eyes at that, as though he knows exactly what I’m thinking.

  “I won’t harm them,” he concedes, “but I won’t protect them either.” I feel a surge of disappointment but I am grateful at least for the small victory.

  “Let’s go inside.” We walk toward the screen door. “And can you do me a favor?” he raises his eyebrows. “Can you just pretend to be human? Just for a while,” I add hastily as his lip curls, “just to avoid any complications with the family in there.” He shrugs, non-committal, and with that I have to be satisfied.

  Byron Graham and his sister Megan are eighteen and sixteen, respectively. They are surprisingly calm beside the obvious hysteria of their mother, Sally, and even their father Dennis, whose hands shake as he takes a seat at the dining-room table. Dennis’s hair must once have been black like Dex’s, but now it is liberally peppered with grey.

  “Dude, you’re wearing my shirt,” are the first words out of Byron’s mouth and he narrows his eyes at Dex.

  “I’m sorry, we helped ourselves to some of your stuff. We thought you were long gone,” I answer, secretly relieved that we had. If Dex was still wearing his black tunic there would be no hiding his true identity. Byron looks about to argue but his sister silences him with a roll of her eyes and then gives Dex an appreciative once-over. She reminds me of Kimberley at that age, sexy, sassy and confident. Thinking of Kim dredges up the old unpleasant memories, memories I try to keep buried.

  “So you’re just giving up track?” Kim demanded, a dark scowl marring her pretty face as she glared at me in the mirror. She sat at her vanity table brushing her hair and her brown eyes were narrowed, even more so than usual.

  “Well, basically, yes.” I stopped rifling through her cupboards and met her gaze.

  “Are you insane?” She flicked her dark hair over her shoulder and set the brush down, turning to face me. “This is your dream, Rachel! It’s what you’ve been working for all these years. You can’t just give it up!”

  “Actually, I can.” That got her good and mad. Getting furiously to her feet she strode across the room coming to stand only a few inches from me. She reached out a perfectly manicured hand and slammed the closet, her chest rising and falling dramatically.

  “It’s because of him, isn’t it? Because of that asshole, Dax?”

  “It’s Dex,” I corrected automatically. Not that it mattered. Dex had been gone for weeks and I had finally accepted that he really wasn’t coming back. Ever.

  “Whatever,” she bit out,
shaking her head, “I don’t give a damn what his name was. He was the worst thing that ever happened to you. Why can’t you see that?”

  I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to explain myself, not even to her. Not even to my best friend in the whole world. It didn’t matter if she was mad, it wasn’t her decision to make. She just didn’t understand – running didn’t matter anymore. Schoolwork, sports, even socializing – none of it mattered anymore. It didn’t change the fact that he was gone it couldn’t bring him back.

  “Are you even listening to me?” Kim was standing before me, an expression of dismayed disbelief on her face. I gazed up at her, realizing I hadn’t heard a word that she had been saying.

  “No,” I shrugged and her mouth dropped open in surprise. She took a step backward, her eyes welling with tears. I knew she was hurt but I couldn’t bring myself to feel guilty. I couldn’t really feel anything anymore.

  “You’ve changed.” It was an accusation. My silence spoke volumes. “I... I think we need to just take time out, Rachel,” she stammered eventually.

  “Sure, okay,” I nodded. It was less effort than contradicting her or convincing her otherwise. It wasn’t really what I wanted, but she couldn’t understand and I was tired of trying to explain it to her. I left then without another word. And although she lived right next door for a few more years we never spoke again.

  “Rachel?” I hear Jason’s voice echoing as if down a long hollow tunnel as I wrench myself away from the memories and into the present. It is obviously not the first time he’s tried to get my attention. I shake my head, blinking away the memories and turn to face him. The family, who are standing around the room, are eyeing me quizzically.

  “Is she all there?” the young girl, Megan, asks tactlessly, giving me a dubious frown. I ignore her implied criticism.

  “Are you all okay?” I ask the four of them generally, changing the subject and getting them to focus on me while giving Jason a stern look before glancing up at the ceiling. My intentions are clear; he needs to warn the others upstairs not to give away Dex’s secret. My concern is for the family. If they discover what he is their reactions could cause him to lose his temper or to simply kill them for the convenience of it.

  “We’re okay.” It’s the boy, Byron, who answers, but he keeps casting concerned glances at his mother who is wringing her hands obsessively.

  “We should go back down into the storm shelter,” she murmurs.

  “That wouldn’t be wise,” I say gently, taking the seat beside her. She turns her wide eyes to me and I see the terror shining in their depths. Fear for her children’s safety.

  “Why not?” Byron asks, leaning forward.

  “They will be here by tomorrow,” I say simply.

  “We’re going to die,” Megan intones hollowly, and her brother’s head jerks up.

  “That is not going to happen,” he reprimands loudly, making his mother jump. “I won’t let it.”

  “What do we do?” Dennis is looking to Dex for answers, deferring automatically to the male figure. Setting aside the irony of the situation, I hold my breath, wondering if Dex will deign to answer. To my surprise, he does.

  “We need to get to one of your islands,” I wince as he uses the word ‘your’ but the family don’t seem to notice, probably assuming he’s from out of town, “somewhere small and remote. I don’t think they,” he chooses his words more carefully and gives me a placating look, “will look for us there.”

  “Where’s the nearest island?” Byron asks, turning to his father.

  “There are islands all along the coast,” Dennis answers, looking again to Dex.

  “No,” Dex shakes his head, “the island you choose will need to be self-sufficient. You’re going to have to live there and be able to sustain yourselves.”

  “No,” Sally shakes her head vehemently, “no way! That’s not going to happen. The United States military will fight. We’ll be fine here we just need to wait it out.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” I soothe, “but let’s get to a safer place, just in case. We can always return as soon as everything has settled down.” We all turn as the others come down the stairs, Darren and Kate nod discreetly at me, assuring me that they understand Dex’s secret needs to remain a secret.

  “For how long?” Megan asks. “How long would we have to stay on this island?” Dex doesn’t answer; he doesn’t need to. We all know the answer. As long as we want to live.

  “I’m not staying on any island,” Darren’s voice cuts across the table. He leans against the far wall and crosses his arms over his chest. “It’s a bad idea. Think about it; if we even manage to get to an island which, by the way, would require a boat as well as land travel, we’d be marooned. Oh and we’d probably be dead in three months. None of the islands along the coast have much in the way of agriculture,” he explains as we all frown in confusion. “How long do you think it would take for us to run out of food?”

  “We can fish?” I suggest, but he shakes his head.

  “What about fresh water? Fruit? Fresh vegetables? We won’t last under those conditions, not for long.”

  “So what exactly do you suggest?” Jason sounds tired and more than a little agitated – we’re all exhausted. “And please don’t mention the subway again. I think we’ve pretty much established that that’s not an option.”

  “I think we should head for the mountains. We’d be isolated enough that maybe, just maybe, they won’t find us any time soon, and we’d have natural resources; water, wild animals. Also, staying on the mainland we could potentially secure supplies by venturing back into the towns, obviously avoiding these invaders.” I notice that he is careful not to use the term ‘Venite’ in front of the family.

  I glance across at Dex while Darren is speaking but his face gives nothing away. I deliberate and I can see the others doing the same.

  “I agree with Darren,” I interject, “I think we should head for the Black Mountains.” The Blacks, situated in North Carolina, are the highest mountains in the Eastern United States. They form part of the Southern Appalachian Mountains. “All those in favor?” I ask. Everyone but Sally and Dex raise their hands - Sally, because she is too terrified to participate, and Dex because he doesn’t really care. All he is concerned about is my safety and he has a better chance of keeping me safe without the others anyway. His face is expressionless as he meets my gaze. Forcefully I push the thought of the kiss we shared earlier out of my mind.

  “We need to leave at first light tomorrow morning; let’s pack up the vehicles with as much as we can take,” Jason quips. We all set about immediately stripping the house of anything valuable.

  “Now wait just a second,” Dennis interrupts our activities a moment later, “those are our things! You can’t just help yourself.”

  “Dennis,” I take his elbow and get his undivided attention, “we need to stick together, to pool our resources. Your belongings don’t matter right now, what matters is the safety of your family. We want to help you, but if you refuse our help, then we will leave without you and you can find your own way. I personally think we should stay together. Fighting amongst ourselves is pointless when we have a far more dangerous enemy.” The others haven’t even slowed their search for useful items and Jason is already ferrying stuff outside to the van. Surprisingly, Byron and Megan are loading their things in the Toyota and, as Dennis watches them, I see his face fall.

  “How are we going to get to the mountains?” he sounds defeated already, “from what we’ve seen on the television they’re controlling everything. And killing everyone. They’re invincible.”

  “No, they’re not. They can be killed,” I correct, avoiding Dex’s gaze. Unlike him, I know which side I’m on. I smile grimly at Dennis cocking my head to one side, “How many guns do you have?”

  Chapter 12

  Dex had stalked off after that, a muscle twitching in his jaw. I can only imagine my blasé attitude toward killing his people must infuriate him; the hypocrite.
Apparently it's fine for the Venites to murder billions of my kind, but the reverse is not something he seems willing to accept. Dennis has two handguns as well as the shotgun and he grudgingly hands one over to me, insisting that Byron keep the other. I cast a dubious look at the youngster as he shoves the gun down the back waistband of his sweatpants, praying he doesn’t shoot himself in the ass.

  “I’ll take that, if you like,” Darren murmurs a while later, having witnessed the exchange.

  “Are you a good shot?”

  “I’m South African,” he shrugs, as if that settles it and I hand it over. “Also,” he adds in an undertone, “it’s probably better that you don’t have it, just in case we need to address the problem closer to home.” I stiffen as it hits home that he is talking about killing Dex if he turns on us, and I fight the irrational urge to snatch the handgun back. He’s right. If it comes down to it and he poses a threat to one of our own, Dex will need to be taken out of the equation.

  “He’s our best chance of getting to the mountains,” I point out.

  “Then let’s just hope this isn’t an elaborate trap.” He hasn’t taken two steps when he turns back, lowering his voice, “Look, I know you have some kind of a history with him. I just hope it doesn’t...”

  “It won’t,” I insist, my voice stronger than I thought it would be. “Trust me, Darren, he’s a means to an end, that’s all. Whatever history we may have, it doesn’t matter now.” He holds my gaze for a long moment and I’m sure he is going to press the issue, but instead, a look of compassion softens his features and he reaches past me wordlessly and picks up the backpack I left on the table.

  Emotionally and physically exhausted we finish packing and plot a basic route before settling down for the evening. It is imperative that we avoid all major highways which will take us longer but will decrease the chance of us running into any Venite soldiers. We all agree that our best bet would be to hide out in the Black Mountains near the Mount Mitchell State Park which is surrounded by the Pisgah National Forest. The closest town, Yancey County, is small enough to go unnoticed by the Venites for some time, and there is enough wildlife and water sources in the area to sustain us.