by Kody Boye
We drove through the remnants of downtown Austin as at our sides and above our heads Grays and ships alike worked to clear the wreckage from the area. Armed with apparatuses that resembled guns but instead seemed to distort gravity to allow objects to be lifted, the creatures—seemingly out-of-place within broad daylight—worked diligently to prepare passages for us as the humanitarian relief to come through. As we did so, I considered those Graykind working outside of the vehicles—and how, soon, we would be assisting in the largest refugee effort ever known to mankind.
“It’s quite a sight,” Captain Sin said as he navigated around debris and toward an open area near where a protective barrier separated solid ground from the river below. “I’d’ve never imagined They’d do something like this.”
“There has to be hundreds of ships,” Tasha Stooges said, “and nearly twice as many Grays.”
“Are you scared?” Dylan Johnson, one of the men who’d assisted in searching for and then locating the dearly-departed Jason, asked.
“I’m not scared,” the woman replied. “More… unnerved than anything.”
I nodded, agreeing fully with the principle even though it didn’t reflect my feelings on the matter. Though I was still angry with how the events had unfolded—and how, through twists of fate, my entire family had been wiped out by either the Grays or Coyotes—I was more relieved that it was finally drawing to a close, or at least as much of a close as possible. In the end, I just wanted everything to be over—for the violence to stop and the refugees to land safely and without complication.
Captain Sin drew the Humvee to a stop and opened his driver’s-side door. “Now,” he said, turning to face Asha, myself, Tasha and Dylan. “We’re under direct orders from the president of the United States and Commander Dubois to assist these people in Their recovery efforts. Though They will not be descending tonight, we need to ensure that They will be as comfortable as possible. Which means work. Hard, long work. Are all of you ready for this?”
I nodded. Asha nodded. Tasha and Dylan nodded.
“Good,” Sin said, then stepped out of the vehicle. “Then let’s get to work.”
I piled out after Tasha and Asha and made my way to the back of the Humvee, whereupon my arrival Captain Sin popped the trunk and began to distribute boxes amongst the four of us. In my and Asha’s boxes were poles of various lengths, meant to serve as the foundations and framework for the tents we would soon be erecting. Sin directed us toward the edge of the nearby railing and instructed us to begin assembling the tents there.
While kneeling there, connecting pieces of plastic tubing to one another, I thought of what Commander Dubois had done to the poor Latino soldier and wondered just why she had reacted so adversely.
Asha was the one who spoke my thoughts clearly. “So,” she said. “Commander Dubois.”
“Overreacted?” I asked, to which Asha responded with a nod.
“Yeah,” my friend replied. “It just seemed… odd, was all, that she’d pull a gun on a fellow soldier like that.”
I didn’t think it was odd at all. In all actuality, it only confirmed my suspicions about the events that would unfold: that Dubois, so filled with anger, would only continue to deteriorate emotionally the sooner the Grays’ habitation on the planet came to be a reality. How Mary-Anne was dealing with it I couldn’t necessarily be sure, but regardless, I couldn’t exactly dwell on the matter either, not with so much work to be done.
It took about a half hour to arrange the first tent and then string along its surfaces the tarp that would protect the Grays within from the elements. Dylan and Tasha then produced a portable generator—which, after a moment of tinkering, was set up to power portable space heaters that were placed at the far edges inside the tent.
The bedding was simpler to manage. Mattresses that had been pressed and rolled were unfurled from their prisons and made to lay flatly on the ground, without the aid of any framework to lift them. Blankets and pillows were then supplied for comfort.
As we and the two-dozen other soldiers worked to provide adequate shelters for the aliens that would soon be descending, the Grays Themselves continued to clear away rubble and debris. I watched, briefly, as some of it was lifted into a Harvester ship, then carried back into the upper atmosphere—though what, or where, They planned on depositing it I couldn’t be sure. Maybe They would dump it into space, or maybe They would manufacture new materials from them on the Mothership. The options were endless for people like Them.
Rather than think on the what ifs, ands or buts, however, I went to the Humvee, lifted another box, and walked back to prepare yet another tent.
There was work to be done.
Soon, They would descend, and They would need homes to combat Texas’ fierce winter.
Chapter 18
We worked through the afternoon and well into the evening, during which time floodlights were positioned along the edges of the humanitarian aid camp and made to point at the tents that spanned what was once the club district. So far, we’d erected at least thirty-five of them, and had just begun to haul in spare medical equipment that would be used to help treat those malnourished when Captain Sin made the call to return to the hospital.
“It’s been a long day,” the man said. “Let’s go.”
We rode back to the hospital in silence, tired and dogeared from a day’s worth of hard work. Asha—having fallen asleep against my shoulder—jerked awake suddenly and without cause, then shook her head before returning it against me.
“Bad dream,” the girl said upon noticing my expression. “Just got startled was all.”
She nestled into my side as we made the fifteen-minute trip back to Burgundy Hospital, during which time the temperature began to plummet and snow once again began to fall. At around half-past-midnight we arrived back at our home headquarters, and disembarked from the Humvees with pride we couldn’t have gained from doing anything else.
Once inside the hospital, Asha and I deposited the military’s belongings at the armory, then ascended the stairs and began to make our way to our room.
The first thing we noticed when we arrived was that the door was open—and that someone, or something, was inside.
“Hello?” I asked, cautiously pushing a hand behind me to keep Asha at bay. “Is anyone there?”
“What is it?” Asha hissed in the darkness.
“I don’t know,” I replied. “I—”
The figure appeared.
It startled, then whimpered.
“Mary-Anne?” I asked as the shadow appeared in the doorway. “Is that you?”
“Yuh-Yes,” she managed, obviously crying.
“What’re you doing here?” Asha asked.
“I… I… I don’t… I didn’t mean—”
The girl fell into sobs, then, bowing her head and cupping her face into her hands. While Asha passed into the room to ensure that none of our belongings had been tampered with, I stepped forward and took hold of the girl—trying, without success, to calm her desperate sobs.
“Mary-Anne,” I said, taking her face in my hands and lifting it so I could look her straight in the eyes. “What happened?”
The girl looked from me, then back into the room to Asha before saying, “Inside.”
I entered, and closed the door behind me. About this time, the girl collapsed into one of the chairs and looked at me and Asha before saying, “I was trying to ask my mother about the Grays.”
“What happened?” Asha asked. “Why are you here?”
“I was trying to ask my mother about the Grays,” Mary-Anne continued, “when she flew into a blind rage. She started ranting—raving—about how They shouldn’t be here, about how it shouldn’t be her responsibility to attend to peoples that had done so much harm to us. Then she started sobbing, saying that my father, he… he wouldn’t have wanted this either. She just kept going and going and going, and when I tried to get her to stop, she… she…” Mary-Anne paused. “She yelled at me. Screamed at me. Told me
to get the F out. That was when I left—because I was scared. I only came here because I didn’t know where else to come.”
“So your mother went ballistic?” Asha asked, then waited for Mary-Anne to nod before swearing and shaking her head. “I should’ve known she’d start causing trouble.”
“I don’t think she’s entirely in her right mind,” I replied.
“Which makes her dangerous,” Asha replied. She turned, set her eyes on Mary-Anne, and said, rather simply, “Honey. Do you want to stay here tonight?”
“Oh, could I?” the girl asked. “I won’t cause any trouble. I swear. I’ll sleep on the floor. All I need is a pillow and a blanket. That’s it. I swear.”
“You can stay here tonight,” I said.
Besides, I thought but didn’t want to say: I was concerned that her mother would draw a gun on her if she went back and tried to reason with her.
As Asha gathered what Mary-Anne would need for a comfortable night in our room, I settled down next to the girl and accepted her into my arms. She started sobbing then, the emotional wreck that she was, and buried her face in my shoulder, much to unease. I didn’t want Dubois to walk in and see her daughter like this—snuggled close, clinging to me like an infant child. It’d do no good, and only cause further harm.
When Asha had finally arranged the bedding along the floor, I broke away from Mary-Anne and said, “It’s been a long night.”
“We could all use the rest,” Asha added, then crawled into bed.
I rose to make sure the door was firmly secured behind me, then turned and crawled into bed alongside Asha. I watched Mary-Anne for but a moment before closing my eyes.
Though the girl sobbed, it soon died down. Then she fell asleep.
I, on the other hand, found sleep elusive, and a beast that I could not hunt and capture even though I desperately wanted to. Too many thoughts ran through my head, too many possibilities and too many opportunities.
Was it threats from within we had to worry about, rather than from outside? Was Dubois the one we had to be concerned over?
Without the ability to know, I closed my eyes and tried my hardest to sleep.
It wasn’t easy, but eventually, I passed out.
Mary-Anne was gone when I woke up the following morning.
“Where do you think she went?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” Asha replied, “and that’s what worries me.”
Knowing that Mary-Anne could possibly be in danger was enough to spur me out of bed. I dressed into jeans and a proper sweatshirt as fast as I could and was about to head toward the door when a knock came at it.
“Hello?” a small voice asked. “Can I come in?”
I opened the door to find none other than Mary-Anne, dressed casually and in clothes different from the ones she had worn last night.
“Mary-Anne,” I breathed. “Where were you?”
“I went to see if my mother would let me in,” the girl replied. “But she’s… gone.”
“Gone?” Asha frowned, crawling out of bed.
“Yeah. Gone.”
The way she said the words didn’t sit well with me. “Where do you think she might be?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” Mary-Anne said, “but wherever she is, it isn’t here. I’ve looked around the entire complex and haven’t been able to find her.”
Asha swore, then began to shimmy a pair of jeans up her legs. She turned to stare out the window and stopped as she began to loop a belt through her pants. “Uh… guys,” she said. “You might want to come and look at this.”
I turned, then approached, Mary-Anne close behind.
Outside was the greatest sight I could’ve ever beheld.
Within the lower atmosphere and above the city of Austin, Texas floated none other than the Mothership.
“Woah,” Mary-Anne said, pressing her hands to the glass.
“Is that it?” Asha asked. “The Mothership?”
I swallowed, then nodded. “Yeah,” I replied. “It is.”
“My mother!” the girl shrieked, then turned and ran out of the room.
“Mary-Anne!” I cried, giving chase.
Asha swore once more and bounded after us in the same shirt she’d worn to bed, pumping her legs as fast as she could to keep pace with Mary-Anne and me as we made our way down the stairs and out of the lobby.
Outside, a multitude of people from the hospital had drawn forth to view the Mothership’s progress as it began to descend toward the grounds just outside the hospital. As we ran, and as we neared the community garden where Mary-Anne and I had recently been attacked, the shrubberies and trees shifted beneath the colossal force of the coming winds and sent leaves and rotting fruits everywhere. I gagged as dirt filled my lungs and raised my hand to shield my eyes moments before the vessel cut before the sun and blocked out all light in the sky.
This brief moment of time—which seemed enormous considering the implications of what was about to happen—allowed me just enough of an opportunity to look toward down the street.
There, Dubois stood sentinel, a trio of soldiers and men in uniform nearby. What appeared to be a large mortar rested beside them.
“Oh God,” Asha said. “They’re going to shoot Them down.”
“No!” I screamed, starting forward. “You can’t! You—”
“FIRE!” Dubois roared.
A massive explosion filled the air.
I could only watch, devastated, as the projectile traveled toward the spacecraft.
It struck.
It exploded.
The ship groaned.
Then, slowly, it began to descend.
The story continues in book 3
When They Fell
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About the Author
Born and raised in Southeastern Idaho, Kody Boye began his writing career with the publication of his story [A] Prom Queen’s Revenge at the age of fourteen. Published nearly three-dozen times before going independent at eighteen, Boye has authored numerous works—including the short story collection Amorous Things, the novella The Diary of Dakota Hammell, the zombie novel Sunrise and the epic fantasy series The Brotherhood Saga.
