by S E Anderson
“I think you're insane.”
I was shocked. I had thought the words, but I wasn't the one to speak them. Matt stood next to Grisham, his face scrunched with incredulity as he stared at the alien.
“Aw, Matt, come on.” Grisham grinned. “You like working here. Why should the fact I am extraterrestrial change our relationship?”
“Maybe because you're exploiting others?” Matt's put his fingers to his own temples. “I mean, what the fuck? You are a fucking psycho. There are aliens? Here? Powering a fucking city, and you murdered Zander? Fucking murdered him? And you think I'm going to help you? Well, tough luck, you mofo.”
“Matt,” I hissed.
But to my surprise, Matt was the first to act, not Grisham. He grabbed the fire extinguisher from the wall and swung it in a wide arc, slamming it into Grisham's head. Grisham and his scooter crashed to the floor.
His skull had a dent the size and shape of the butt end of the extinguisher. Blood ran from his nose onto the floor, staining the gray carpet.
I gagged. Even after everything I had seen today, the sight of yet another gruesome death turned my stomach. Maybe that was a good thing. I didn't feel the relief I thought I would.
Matt stood, frozen, staring at what he had done. He released the fire extinguisher, it clanging to the floor, and he cupped his face. His body trembled as he gazed upon the awkwardly arched body of his former boss, taking in the crushed skull and blood.
“I … I quit, Mr. Grisham,” he stammered.
He snapped out of his daze and walked over to me, his fingers deftly tugging at the knots as he untied the cords. As he worked the cord around my legs, I leaned on his shoulder, feeling as if someone had ripped my guts to shreds.
“Matt …?”
“Yes?” His voice was slow and uncertain. He placed a gentle hand on my knee and glanced up, a vacant expression on his face.
“Zander's dead,” I whispered, my vision blurring as the words sunk in.
Matt grabbed my hand, squeezing tightly. The shock hung over us like a thick cloud.
“Where … where did he put them?”
“I don't know,” Matt replied, his breaths heavy. “None of this makes sense. I got called up here, and I saw you tied to a chair and Zander is dead. I … none of this makes sense.”
“We were on a recon. We were only supposed to figure out what Grisham was up to. We didn't expect—”
“You were working with them?”
“You … could say that.”
Matt stood up, taking a step back. “What do you mean?”
“We knew something was wrong with Grisham,” I replied. I stood, testing my trembling legs, and leaned on the chair for support. “We had to do something.”
Matt backed further away. He bumped into the desk, his hand knocking a haggard leather journal and the stunner to the floor. The latter hit the ground, bounced, and with a scream, Matt clutched his foot, which had probably gone to sleep.
“What the hell is going on?” he squawked, picking the gun up with an index finger and thumb. He placed it delicately on the table, still shaking. I would have been, too, if I had just bashed a man's head in. But I was numb, just numb. I felt like the world had been paused. I couldn’t believe Zander was dead, and I begged the universe to free me from this hell.
I reached for the journal, my heart sinking when I realized what it was. It looked smaller, more fragile than the first time I had seen it, Blayde showing her brother a memory caught between the yellowing paper. The first of the worn pages was full of text, written in a neat script with a slow progression to lesser, more simplified entries.
It started with some variation of Dear Diary but changed to dear impartial friend, and then to no introduction at all, just some nonsense title. Probably a planet name that I couldn't even imagine knowing or even try to pronounce.
There were illustrations, too: maps and charts, glued into the pages haphazardly or sketched alongside the notes. Creatures I had never seen before, shapes that defied geometry, planets and people and faces in crowds that sent shivers down my spine.
Bodies. Corpses. Death. Life. Everything was caught on the pages. A universe in a book.
I slammed the journal shut, feeling as if I had walked in on someone getting changed. I had seen Blayde nude, but this felt more intrusive than that. I felt the heat in my cheeks, ashamed of having looked, while my mind raced at the wonders captured in my hands. It was Blayde's and she was gone now, but reading the journal felt like a trespass, disturbing a grave that hadn't been made yet.
And then a voice broke the silence that chilled me to the core.
“Get your filthy paws off that, you dirty Earthling.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
We Finish This Thing Once and for All
Matt’s scream was inhuman as the book was ripped from my hands.
Wide-eyed, I saw the face—the living, breathing face of Blayde, skin covered with a mixture of sweat and blood—snarling as she reclaimed what was rightfully hers.
And then she laughed.
She folded in half as she pointed a finger at my face, roaring with laughter. Zander came up behind her, shoving her out of the way, scowling. “You're being insensitive again,” he scoffed, grabbing the stun gun off the table.
“You seriously didn't tell her?” Blayde managed to say between guffaws. “With everything you said? All these months? Not a single hint?”
He said nothing, and she continued laughing. Blayde slapped her leg, and his face flushed bright red. “You stayed out of trouble for two whole months?”
“Yes, I stayed out of mortal danger for two whole months,” he snapped. “Why is that so hard to understand? It just … it never came up.”
“Because you're you, Zander,” she said, wiping tears from her eyes.
“Not every minute of my life is about running around and blowing up things. I can live a day or two without accidentally dying.”
With that, a thump resonated through the office. Matt lay unconscious where he had dropped.
And me? I was rooted to the spot. Shocked didn't even begin to cover it.
As if my day couldn't get any weirder, my friends were back from the dead.
Or maybe I was dead?
“Sally?” Zander asked, his voice calm and composed.
He wasn't dead. My eyes took in the figure of my friend, my roommate, my partner in crime, who, despite being shot in the head, was living and breathing and, despite everything, smiling.
Well, it was an awkward smile, but I was used to those.
“Surprise?” he said.
He held up his hands to show he had come in peace. I could have slapped him or kissed him. Or both. Instead, I let out a sound that was something between surprise, confusion, and anger. It sounded a little like someone had stepped on a cat, sending Blayde into further peals of laughter.
“I’m not dead.”
Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.
I did the only thing I could possibly do—I hugged him. I held Zander tight, taking in the fact that he was here, that he was alive while ignoring the blood on his shirt. It stained my blouse, but I didn’t care. I cried, and he hugged me back, waiting for me to make sense and come to terms with his return to life.
“My cells regenerate fast,” he explained, answering the question I couldn't get past my lips. “Very fast.”
“Even after you … die?” I sputtered. “How is that even possible?”
“I never stay dead for long,” Zander replied. “A by-product of having to reassemble my cells every time I want to travel. And no, it doesn't hurt.”
I leaned back and slapped his face, silencing Blayde’s laughter. The room rang with the force like a storm that had passed. Zander's eyes widened. “What was that for?” he squawked, holding a hand to his cheek, even though he had just told me it would not hurt him.
“It never came up?” I said. “It never came up that you were immortal? Not once, huh?”
“No, it really—”
“I have spent the last two months worrying about keeping you alive, and now you're telling me you can't die?”
“Well, I can, but not for long. I mean—”
“Don't play coy with me, Zander.” I spun on my heels, marching to Matt, who was only now stirring. “There were plenty of opportunities for you to let me know you were effing immortal.”
“There really weren't, Sally,” Zander muttered, his face reddening.
“How about when you got yourself doped up on caffeine?” I snapped. “I thought the coffee was going to kill you.”
“Coffee …?” Matt muttered, dazed, as I helped him into a seated position. “So, you two aren't related, are you?”
“Long story,” I replied, turning my glare back on Zander. “I just watched you getting shot through the head. You've got blood down your face. I saw your brain! And here you are, hunky-dory and alive. I must be going mad.”
“It takes a minute or two for the body to reboot,” Blayde interjected. “Gee, this is fun. The look on your face, though. On all your faces. Absolutely hilarious. It's on days like these that I wish I owned a camera or something.”
No one said a word, ignoring the chirpy revenant with cold silence. I managed to help Matt to his feet. The color returned to his cheeks, a good sign if I had ever seen one.
“Fine, if no one's going to say it, I am,” said Blayde. “We've got more important things to do than sit around waiting for the idiot boss man to wake up.”
She turned around, the laser pointer held high as she marched out of the room. Zander gave me an apologetic look, the kind a puppy gives when he knows he's chewed the wrong chair leg, and turned to follow her, stepping over the still unconscious body of Mr. Grisham.
“You don't have to come along,” he said, turning to face Matt and me before reaching the door. “We can handle this ourselves, but we won't stop you if you'd like to help.”
“What are you going to do?” I asked for the both of us.
“Blow this place to smithereens,” he replied, grinning. He pulled the fire alarm with one swift motion and marched out of the room as the sirens blared.
I looked at Matt, who stared at Grisham's body, then at Zander. His eyes rested on me. He shrugged his shoulders. “I'm sure as hell not going to sit this one out.”
“You sure you're okay to walk?”
“I could be missing a leg and would still make sure I could walk if it meant being able to stop whatever the fuck is going on. So, are we going or what?”
True to his word, Zander held open the elevator doors for us. Blayde clutched a handful of wires in her right hand, the guts of the elevator exposed to the world. Once the team was complete once more, she jammed them together.
“Better grab onto something.” She snickered as the doors slid shut.
The floor dropped from beneath us, and the elevator just kind of gave up and fell. My stomach somersaulted, and I grabbed onto the railing. in terror. And Blayde, well, she laughed, cheered, and floated in the free fall. Shouting like this was reserved for roller coasters, not an elevator plummeting into the abyss.
“She's a psycho!” Matt shouted.
“Oy, watch who you're calling psycho,” Blayde replied, her cheers cut short. “Someone took an awfully long time to recognize his own boss was one.”
Matt said nothing.
The elevator jolted to a stop, and the four of us hit the floor. The tiny ping filled the air like an afterthought. I caught my breath as the doors slid open, relieved to have stopped, but my heart sank when I saw what was waiting for us.
They were most likely all the security personnel Grisham had hired to protect the plant and its secrets, and they were armed to the teeth. With robotic synchronicity, they turned toward the elevator, ready for us. I shuddered when I realized we were more than outmatched.
Blayde grinned. The smile crawled up her face as she shared a look with Zander.
And just like that, it was over. Blink and you would have missed it. Actually, I had.
The second the doors opened we saw the security guards. Blayde shot out of the elevator like a bullet. Without hesitation, Zander spread his arms to the sides, shoving Matt and me into opposite corners. We were shielded. We were safe.
By the time I had gathered the courage to peek out, nobody was standing in the small atrium other than Zander and Blayde. They had already collected the security guards’ weapons, taking out the ammunition before tossing the empty guns into a corner. The men on the ground were unconscious, not dead; although I couldn't tell for sure. I probably shouldn't have made assumptions about their current state, considering how little I knew about my friends.
To my surprise, this didn't scare me.
Matt, however, turned to the potted plant in the atrium and emptied the contents of his stomach. It wasn't the best look for him. His eyes were wide when he turned to face the others, his face gaunt. As he gazed upon the unconscious bodies, he looked as if he were in a dream; a nightmare, maybe.
Blayde grinned at her handiwork. The look on her angular face was that of an artist having finished a piece she was proud of.
“I thought they would have put up more of a fight,” Zander grumbled.
“Somebody's gone soft, hasn't he? That would have been over in half the time if you had practiced your forms. Look at you, I'm out of your life for two months and your reaction time doubles.”
“It hasn't,” he snapped.
“Maybe you were distracted, how's that?”
“Shut up.”
Zander rolled his eyes, pocketing the small shiny gun. Finally, he turned back to us with a solemn look.
But I could see right through it. I had seen the look in his eyes when he had died, and I could see the brightness behind those stern eyes now, even if he was attempting to hide it. Zander was more alive at this moment than he had been during his entire stay on the planet.
I shuddered. I guess I was finally meeting the real Zander.
“Are you coming?” he asked, as if he was about to throw out a hand. For a second, I thought he was going to take mine and pull me along, but he turned and headed for the door instead.
“Remind me why the dynamic duo is down here again?” Blayde asked, following her brother into the fake systems room, ignoring both Matt and me as she stormed past.
Zander let out a heavy sigh. “They deserve to be here,” he answered coolly, not making eye contact with any party involved. “Matt bashed our boss's head in with a fire extinguisher. I think we owe it to him to see the lives he saved.”
“Former boss,” Matt squawked.
Zander chuckled. “That goes without saying.”
“You don't expect us to take them down to the Killians, do you?” Blayde snorted. “I mean, come on. Sentimentalism? From you—of all people? Zander, we're on a mission. We can't have people like them coming along. They would get in the way. Worse, they could get injured. Killed, even. What were you thinking? We go down, rig the self-destruct, grab the Killians, jump them home, and … what? Let these two Earthlings find their own way out of an exploding ravine?”
“I was going to take them with us.”
Blayde froze mid-stride, her foot dangling awkwardly in the air. Her eyes widened to the as fear rippled through her perfect exterior.
“Take them … with us?” she sputtered. “Off-planet? During a rescue mission?”
“Yes,” said Zander as he flung open the door to the pit. “The return won't be instantaneous. It'll be better if we take them now.”
“Take us where?”
Matt was frozen in place too, but for other reasons. He no longer seemed able to move his legs.
“You never even asked him,” Blayde scoffed. “Look, you can't take people off their planet willy-nilly. It's called alien abduction, and is frowned upon in respectable circles.”
“Sally wants to come,” he said, bordering on whining without breaking his calm demeanor. “And she likes Matt, so I thought—”
“Most im
portantly, Zander, you didn't ask me.” Blayde scowled. “And I'm not into the idea of having Earthlings holding us back. We’ve only just found each other, Zander; we only need each other.”
Zander turned his back to her. My eyes met his, and in that second, they said much more than words ever could.
“I owe her, Blayde,” he muttered, his lips the only thing to move. His eyes were locked on mine, and the conversation there was still going: I don't want it to end like this. I'm doing everything I can.
“You don't owe it to her to put her in harm's way.”
“She's coming with us,” he snapped.
My heart thumped in my chest, though not out of fear or nervousness but anticipation. At that moment, in those eyes, I saw it all. I realized there was nothing I wanted more than to leave this planet and see the wonders beyond.
With him.
It was as if my life had been nothing but a movie until that moment, that it had gone by without me actively participating, only watching. In less than a second, I felt pelted into their story, awake and alive.
And living is what I wanted to do.
Holy crap, I really want this.
“Please, Blayde,” I said.
Matt slipped his hand into mine. I could feel his pulse against my skin—fast, hasty. And he was sweaty, still trembling, still reeling from what he had done, but the words that came out of his mouth were those of agreement, of determination.
“I want to come too,” he said. “If the offer still stands.”
“The offer was never on the table,” Blayde snapped, glaring down at the pit. “Sally's clever and all, but she's a deadweight. She could end up being a literal deadweight.”
“But—”
“Let's get those Killians out of harm's way. We'll come back and work out your issues, okay?”
Zander sighed. “So, what about them?”
“When we set off the self-destruct, it's going to blow this plant sky high. I'm glad they got to see your little fight scene, but they need to evacuate with everyone else. They can't come any further.”
