by Kody Boye
“Did you not to expect me to return?” I asked, trembling as I considered the fact that I could’ve easily died aboard that ship and she wouldn’t have cared less.
“I… no, it…” She paused, then, and stared at me with her cold eyes, as if contemplating my every move and every aspect of my person. “Come. Now.”
I did, and followed her through the winding halls, up the infamous flight of stairs and then toward the office she had deemed as her own. Once inside, we settled down at seats opposite one another and stared, like two gunmen who’d drawn and was awaiting the other to pull the trigger.
It was she who spoke first. “Tell me,” she said, “everything.”
“They wish to begin phase two of Their assimilation onto the planet Earth,” I said, my voice weak as I recounted staring into its eyes, as I’d felt its presence along my conscience and its mind meld with my own.
“You mean to say that all of this—” she spread her arms “—was just phase one?”
“They wished to gather information about the human population,” I said. “I think, from what I gathered, that They learned our history, our cultures, our every weakness and every strength, from the people They abducted. They were just waiting for a messenger. Me.”
“Did They say what They were going to do?” Dubois asked.
“Assimilate,” I repeated. “And that we need to comply or else be destroyed.”
“So it begins,” the commander said, her voice weak in light of the new information. “War.”
It was a word I could’ve never imagined hearing from a person in comparison to the extraterrestrial entities that inhabited the upper atmosphere of our planet. War. It seemed so fickle, so simple a word to use when we were so heavily outnumbered, so vastly overpowered and so technologically inferior. Why, from everything I’d seen, we couldn’t take a Harvester ship down, such was Their superior power. We were like ants when compared to Them, simply meandering the Earth and trying to make our way in the great and utter cosmos that was life. But They… They were like Gods who had come to life: who, with a touch of Their hand, could destroy any and everything They wished to without a second thought.
In sitting there, facing Commander Dubois and knowing that was what the world had come to, I realized I had just become a pawn in what could potentially be the third World War.
“Can I,” I started, then stopped—strangled, suddenly, by the inexplicable notion of it all. “Leave?”
“You mean return to your room?” she asked. “Yes. You may.”
“I want to see Asha.”
“Your friend is fine.”
“I said—”
“I heard what you said, Berrios. I said, Return to your room.”
“But—”
She silenced me with a single stare.
Standing, I pushed the chair aside and started for the door, but stopped when I heard her clear her throat.
“Berrios,” she said, not even bothering to wait for me to turn before continuing. “Don’t even think about leaving. You are the closest connection we have to these creatures—and, undoubtedly, the most important person in this entire war.”
“I understand,” I said, then made my way out of the office and into the hallway.
War.
How I could not get that word out of my mind.
I remained awake that night listening to the sound of Coyotes, Their laughter, and the Harvester ships as They buzzed overhead. It was likely They were scouting the area to see if They could determine the key positions we held in Burgundy Hospital, though whether or not They were able to locate me specifically I couldn’t be sure. I knew nothing about Their understanding of my situation—whether They knew I was just as much humanity’s prisoner as I was Theirs. I could still feel Their presences reaching out to me—grasping, fumbling for some sort of understanding of my consciousness. Always I batted Them away, trying desperately to erect walls around my mind so They would not discover my innermost thoughts, but I knew it wouldn’t matter. If They truly wished to break me, They would.
To Them, I was nothing—an insect that could be squashed at the exact moment I wasn’t needed.
So how, I wondered, were we to ever win a war against Them?
If this truly was only the first phase—and if They, after all this time, had only been seeking reconnaissance about the human species—what would happen when They truly fought to take control of the planet? Did we even have a chance at that point?
“Maybe,” I whispered, sinking into the array of blankets that covered the stretcher I lay upon.
There was no telling what would happen in the coming days, weeks, months, maybe even years. Maybe the Harvesters weren’t even Their war ships. Maybe…
I swallowed.
I dreaded to think this—hated, with all my heart, to even believe it was true—but I knew I couldn’t push the thought away once it had entered my mind. It was like a scarlet letter burned upon my consciousness with an iron brand—one that could not be pushed away, hidden, or healed even with the greatest technology in the world.
Maybe, I dreaded to think, these were just the simplest of Their peoples.
Maybe, I then thought, there were greater threats I’d yet to see.
And maybe, I thought with terror beyond what I could even begin to imagine, this truly was the end of the world.
As I closed my eyes, I felt an impression of something else’s consciousness attempt to break entry into my mind.
It was then that I realized I would likely not sleep that night.
Chaos—
Nightmares—
Fire.
These were the things I dreamed about as I drifted off to sleep in the indeterminable hours of the morning. Of homes falling, of cities burning, of people dying and of entire countries being torn apart—it was without hesitation that ships drifted in from the highest parts of the atmosphere to lay waste upon the humanity that lay directly below Them. Among Them was a rectangular structure—which, at first, did not resemble a ship, as it had no visible thrusters or even wings that could have been used to guide it. This one was the size of a small island, and as it descended from the sky, the being commanding said ship directed those around it to destroy the people of the planet Earth. They were not those who were non-compliant, as I so desperately wished to think they were, nor were they people who raised arms against those laying siege upon their planet. Rather, they were people just like me—like Mama and Xiomara who wanted nothing more than to live our lives in peace without the constant burden of the alien overlords taking rule of our world.
Several times I awakened in feverish sweats, only to fall asleep again and to dream more horrible things.
I saw my mother cut down before me.
I saw my sister slaughtered in cold blood.
I saw Jason as he was shot in the abdomen by men who wished for nothing more than to survive and as he crawled into an alleyway to die.
I cried, in my sleep, and woke the following morning with dried tears on my face, and witnessed the rise of the sun—glorious in that it finally dispelled the terrors of night and brought with it the second chance of a new morning.
By the time my feet hit the floor in the early hours of dawn, my consciousness was a wreck.
I had to talk to someone—anyone—before I completely lost my mind.
After changing my clothes and taking note of my sour expression in the bathroom mirror, I made my way to the doorway, expecting resistance when I turned the door handle.
There was none.
Instead, I was offered simple passage into the hallway without so much as a guard standing at my door.
Now that I was free of what I’d thought had been my permanent prison, I wasn’t sure what to do. I had no idea where they’d be keeping Asha or even where I’d begin to look; and even if I did find her, how I would break her out of what would obviously be a locked room. They were using her as leverage for my obedience. For all I knew, she could be anywhere in this sprawling buildi
ng, and I’d never have the chance to find her. She could even be locked in a broom closet and I’d be none the wiser.
I couldn’t yell to try and find her.
I couldn’t go door to door.
I couldn’t ask Captain Sin, the sniper named Josh, or even the fellow female soldier named Cindy if they knew where she was.
I was, without a doubt, completely and utterly screwed.
Rather than simply stand there and look like a complete idiot to anyone who might be wandering the halls, I turned and made my way toward the medical bay, where I knew I would find either Taylor McKinney or Doctor Kelly. Maybe they would have some advice on what I could do about the ever-present sensation of something attempting to break into my thoughts.
Though building walls seemed to work, I knew it wouldn’t keep Them out forever, especially if They decided to use force.
Once downstairs, and once in the near proximity of the medical bay, I raised my voice and asked, “Hello? Is anyone there?”
A curtain pared and out appeared none other than Doctor Kelly, closely flanked by his nurse, Taylor McKinney. “Ana Mia,” he said. “You’re up at an awfully early hour.”
“I had another vision,” I said. “After I felt as though something was attempting to breach entry into my mind.”
“Tell us more.”
So I did—detailing the previous day’s encounter, then the night’s confusions, followed by the dream which had left me trembling upon awakening. I then explained, in chilling detail, the feelings I continued to have—most particularly, of what felt like probing tendrils making their way along my skull.
By the time I finished, both Doctor Kelly and Taylor McKinney had perplexed looks on their faces, which immediately made me suspect the worst.
“You don’t,” I started.
“Know how to help you,” Doctor Kelly replied. “We don’t.”
“This isn’t some tinfoil-over-the-head-type shenanigans,” McKinney offered with a laugh, which did little to ease any of my concerns. Upon taking note of this, he frowned and, with a sigh, gestured for me to settle down on a nearby chair. He then pulled a penlight from his breast pocket and shined it into my eye. “Your iris is changing color at an alarming rate.”
“Which means?” I asked.
“It could mean any number of things,” Doctor Kelly said. “That your bond with Them is strengthening. That your understanding of your gift is increasing. That the infection—or whatever it is that’s occurring within your body—is accelerating. Why, I’d even suspect that this is in part due to the fact that you’ve established First Contact with Them. Why… what a wonder that must have been.”
More like terrifying, I wanted to say, but kept my mouth shut instead.
“Are you able to consciously keep Them out?” McKinney asked.
“I think so,” I replied. “I mean… I haven’t felt like I did when I was on the ship since I got back.”
“Which was?”
“Open. Exposed. Naked. Vulnerable.”
“You must be doing something to establish some sort of barrier then, otherwise They’d’ve been able to do what They wanted by now.”
“I suppose so,” I sighed, then reached up to cup my face in my hands.
Neither of the men said a word—likely due to the fact that neither of them had anything to say. Here I was, a seventeen-year-old girl, going through life with the knowledge that I was the world’s greatest messiah—their ‘missing link’ to contact with extraterrestrial life—and I had no idea what to do about it. I’d lost my family, my only friends, my sense of independence, and freedom. The fact that I hadn’t been guarded was somewhat of a miracle, but with Asha incarcerated, they knew I wouldn’t leave. I was as bound to her as I was myself—as if connected by a silver thread which, if cut, would kill us both.
As I sighed, expelling the breath from my mouth slowly and with enough effort to satiate my lungs of their rampant desire for release, I opened my eyes to look at the two men and found that they were doing little more than staring. Their eyes—normal as they were—bothered me, to the point where I felt as though I wanted to hide and simply retreat into myself.
Knowing that I couldn’t, however, and that it would do little to aid me in the grand scheme of things, I stood and started to leave.
“Ana Mia,” Doctor Kelly said.
“Yes?” I asked.
“Commander Dubois will want to know about this dream—most particularly: the ships you saw.”
“I understand,” I said, and resigned myself to what would come.
I turned and walked back toward the stairwell.
I had no choice.
I had to visit Dubois.
She instructed me to draw, in as crude and elementary detail as possible, the unusual ship that I had witnessed in what the commander was convinced was a ‘vision.’ Given that I’d at least a rudimentary understanding of art, shading, and enjoyed the process, I sketched the rectangular-shaped object with its irregularities where I imagined guns and other weaponry must have been and did so with finesse I found surprising considering my hand was shaking. By the time I was finished, I passed the sketch over to Dubois and said, point-blank, “This is what I saw.”
“To what scale?” she asked.
“I can’t say,” I replied.
“If you had to guess.”
“One of the smaller Hawaiian Islands.”
She dropped the sketch and lifted her head. “What?” she asked.
“It hovered over several islands as it made its way through the atmosphere,” I said. “The centrifugal force—or whatever you’d call it—was enough to part the waters like Moses did the Red Sea.”
“So this ship—or series of ships—is of awesome power,” she said, then lifted the sketch again, nodding as she continued to observe it. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Ana Mia. This will be useful when I forward this intelligence to the local dispatch of the United States Military.”
“You mean you’re not the main dispatch?” I frowned.
“We are but one squad tasked to guard the scientists who wish to engineer safeguards against these creatures. Though if you ask me, I’ve likely already said too much.” She lowered the sketch and stared at me with her stone-cold eyes. “I want you to understand something, Ana Mia—and when I say this, I’m not trying to be rude, or cold, or insensitive, or even barbaric. You are, without a doubt, the greatest military asset that currently exists—the sole conduit between us and the peoples that dwell within our skies. Though I may have treated you poorly—”
“Which you did,” I said.
“—I want you to know how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for us, the United States Military, and the world.” Dubois leaned forward, her decorated breast shining in the light streaming from the nearby window. She gazed at me with eyes that no longer appeared to be completely hateful. “To answer the question you asked before: yes. I did lose people. And that’s why I am so ruthless in wanting to eradicate these cretins from the face of the Earth.”
“What if we can’t do it?” I asked. “What if we have to barter? Or what if They simply decide to take everything with force, like I saw in my dream?”
“Any military power does not wish to expend unnecessary resources on combat,” the commander said. “As you are already aware, the Grays are more advanced than we can ever hope to be, but that does not mean we do not have our advantages. We are weak. Small. Bound to land except for the planes very few people can truly operate. They could outmaneuver us in any aerial combat situation. But what can They say for Their abilities on land?”
“They employ the Coyotes,” I said.
“As foot soldiers,” she agreed, “But They bleed just like everything else. They are mindless drones meant only to gather reconnaissance and to face resistance whenever it is met. They are flesh and blood, bone and matter, just as we are. They can be killed by bullets and knives.”
“So this safeguard you’re proposing,” I sta
rted.
“I can’t in any good conscience speak of what our scientists are working on, especially not to you.”
“But—”
She reached out and pressed a finger to my lips. “I’ve said enough,” Dubois said. “All I’ll say is that it isn’t anything you have to worry about.”
“So what do I do now?” I asked.
“You wait,” she said. “That’s all there is to it.”
I sat there, thinking over what she’d said and trying my hardest not to question further. I knew she had her reasons in refusing me information. Were it to get into the wrong hands, it could potentially be deadly—not only to us, but for the rest of humanity. For that reason, I could excuse whatever rampant disregard she possessed toward me.
“I want to see Asha,” I said, standing. “Now.”
“Now?” Dubois chuckled. “You really are a demanding creature, aren’t you?”
“I’ve done what you asked. Now give me what I want.”
“And if I don’t?”
I couldn’t reply.
“I figured as much,” Dubois said, then gestured toward the doorway, which opened soon after to reveal two armed guards with semi-automatic weapons strapped along their chests. “Take Miss Berrios to prisoner Dawson’s room. Let her inside if she wishes, but be sure to lock the door behind her. I don’t want these girls getting any funny ideas.”
“Ana!” Asha said through the door as we approached the single, lonely room at the end of the corridor opposite the wing I slept in. Tears fell from her eyes as I drew closer. “Oh God, Ana Mia. I thought you’d never come.”
“I can’t stay long,” I said, casting a glance at the guard out my peripheral as he reached down and began to fumble through a series of keys at his belt.
“Why?” she asked.
The guard opened the door.
Asha—unaware of the current arrangement—attempted to step out, but immediately froze once the guns went up and aimed directly at her. “What’re you,” she started.
“Remain inside, prisoner,” a man’s voice, distorted by an electronic device, replied. “Ana Mia Sofia Berrios may speak with you inside your room, and only inside your room.”
