The Intrusion: Baltin Prequel

by Melissa Riddell

  “Yes.” He pulls me so close I’m almost sitting in his lap. “Trust me, thirty minutes of your snoring is about all I can take, anyway.”

  “Jerk.” I giggle, feeling my eyelids drop farther. “Just a little nap, though,” I mumble.

  “Of course.” His warms lips brush my temple and I relax into nothingness.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  The twinkles of starlight shine around me. When I glance around, I feel myself floating inside a black nebula rimmed with a red glow. Dust and clouds coalesce over and under my body. Hands reach from the swirling mass and grab my wrists.

  I try to scream, but nothing comes out. Everything’s so cold. Panic beats inside my head, knocking around like a careening bat. Fighting, I twist and push upward, as if I can swim my way through the misty swirls.

  Fingers tighten around my flesh and rotate my body to a tall, dark figure. To my frustration, the man’s face is obscured in shadow. He steps toward me, as if being weightless doesn’t affect him at all, and I realize his hands are anchoring me in place, keeping me from floating into the black void.

  “What is this place? Who are you?” I ask, squinting my eyes to get a better view. My heart stutters in my chest like a wild animal. I’d believe he’s just a silhouette if I didn’t feel his warm, strong fingers encircling mine.

  “Who are you?” Tilting his head, he seems to study me, as if he’s as confused as I am.

  A force shakes my shoulder, breaking my concentration. I turn my head, letting the curiosity overcome my fear of whoever this is in front of me, because I understand this is a dream.

  “Wait.” The grip around my hands tightens. “Don’t leave. Please.”

  “My tummy hurts.” Kat’s little voice pierces my sleep-fogged brain, and I shoot upward, grabbing the seat of the chair I’m slumped in. Panic pulls at me.

  Who was that? Why did he feel familiar?

  Max jumps to his feet and rushes to his sister. “I’m sorry. Does your tummy need breakfast?”

  “No, Max.” She rubs her slim belly and shakes her head. Dark circles ring her eyes, and her hair is a rat’s nest. One-piece blue pajamas, decorated with SpongeBob SquarePants, seem to sag from her little body. “I threw up in the bathroom and then pooped. Do you got any medicine to make me feel better?”

  He puts the back of his hand against her forehead. “You’re burning up.” Swooping her into his arms, he twists to me, a guarded look coming into his gaze. “I think she has a fever.”

  “Let’s go take her to Mamma. She’ll know what to do.” Did Kat catch the stomach bug Daddy mentioned? An even worse thought worms its way into my head. Could this have something to do with Mamma’s comment about the alien spheres releasing a virus? I shut that thought away. No, it’s a normal ailment—kids get them all the time. Hell, it was probably something she ate.

  I lead Max into the kitchen, where my mom’s placing several cereal bars on the counter.

  “Mamma? I think Kat’s sick.”

  “Oh, no.” She rushes to where Max stands with the little girl in his arms. “What’s the matter, honey?”

  “My tummy doesn’t feel so good.” Kat’s normally bubbly voice is quiet and strained. “I had an accident in the bathroom, too, but I cleaned it up.”

  Mamma’s eyes land on mine, then Max’s. Worry flashes in their depths, and she smooths Kat’s messy bangs from her forehead. “Well, I bet I can fix you up. I’ve got some pink stuff that should help.”

  Kat reaches toward her, and Mamma hefts the little girl into her arms.

  “Max, go grab the bismuth from the bathroom medicine cabinet and bring it to me. I think Kat should lie down for a while.” She places a hand on his upper arm. “There should be some Gatorade in the cellar, too.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Max’s stress ball appears, and he squishes it out of sight with his hand.

  “Don’t worry. It’s probably nothing.” Mamma tries to smile at him, but it looks more like a grimace to me.

  He nods, yanks the cellar key from its hook in the pantry, and heads out the back door.

  It doesn’t feel like nothing. Black fingers of doom rise from the bottom of my stomach like the tentacles of an octopus and twine through my guts. Please let Kat be alright, God, if you’re listening.

  I follow Mamma into Sissy’s old room. “What can I do to help?”

  “Get me a bowl of water and a washcloth.” She lays Kat on the bed.

  I do as she asks.

  Max returns with the pink medicine and several bottles of fluid.

  Mamma spoon feeds the thick liquid into Kat’s mouth. “I’m going to run to the clinic and see what else we have to make you feel better, okay sweetie?” She turns to me. “I need some children’s Tylenol and anti-emetics to keep her from throwing up. Try to keep her calm and encourage her to take small drinks. I’ll grab Mr. Miller so I don’t have to go alone and then be back soon.” She steps out of the room and shuts the door.

  Max and I crowd around the bed, taking turns re-soaking the cloth and holding up Kat’s head to slip her tiny sips.

  After fifteen minutes, she retches, and I whip a trash can under her mouth. She pukes everything back up and cries for a few seconds, clear mucus hanging from her nose. “I’m so sorry, Tilly.”

  “It’s okay, Squirt.” I grab a tissue and wipe her face.

  “Shh.” Max lays on the bed and stretches out beside her, smoothing her hair. “Don’t worry about it. I’m here for you.”

  “You’re going to take care of me, right?” she whispers, moisture plastering hair to her temples.

  “Of course I am.” He nods and gives me a quick, unreadable glance. “That’s what big brothers do.”

  “I have to go to the bathroom.” Her fingers knead her lower abdomen. “But it hurts so bad.”

  “Come on.” I lift her into my arms. “I’ll take ya.”

  “Tilly,” Max jumps off the bed and races ahead to open the bathroom door in the hallway, “Thank you.”

  After I help her inside, I unsnap the buttons of her pajamas and set her on the toilet.

  She shakes but does her business, moaning a bit. When she’s finished, I help her re-dress, lift her up and bring her back to the bed.

  Daddy pops his head through the bedroom door, and I relay what’s going on with Kat. “Mamma went with Mr. Miller for more supplies.”

  Concern flashes in his eyes, but he nods, as if realizing the magnitude or potential of the stomach bug.

  I look over my shoulder to check on my little friend.

  She curls in Max’s lap and he rocks her gently, humming a low tune.

  “Daddy, how’s the city?”

  A line forms between his eyebrows. “Downtown isn’t too bad. We only lost a couple of stores, and there wasn’t much inside them to begin with.” He dips his chin toward Kat. “She’s not the only one sick. I ran into several people with the same stories. As a matter of fact, I think it’s why things didn’t get too crazy last night.”

  “I’m glad it didn’t get bad, but I’m not happy to hear about…” I raise my eyebrows and let my unfinished sentence hang in the air.

  “I know.” A scowl forms and he tips his chin in Max’s direction. “Son, we’re here for both of you. I’m sure Sarah will find something that’ll help your sister feel better soon.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’m going to go keep an eye out front. If you need anything, come get me.” Daddy squeezes my shoulder and pads down the hall.

  Max stretches Kat out on the bed and lays beside her, rubbing small circles against her stomach.

  I walk to the mattress and sit on the edge, crooking my knee so I can lean over Max to check on Kat.

  Her eyelids are closed and flutter, as if dreaming. Her face is wan except for two high spots of color on her cheekbones. The fever must be high.

  Trailing Max’s back with my fingers, I try to lend him invisible strength. I want to assure him it’s going to be all right, but I can’t because I have no idea
. And honestly, it doesn’t seem all right. Nothing does.

  It feels doomed, like a bright sunny day tainted by a murderous thunderstorm on the horizon, complete with multiple swirling tornados touching the ground, jagged purple lightning strikes, and roiling, dark clouds.

  I slide next to his spine and clutch him to my chest.

  His hand trails across his denim-covered thigh, reaching backward for mine.

  Running my fingertips along his arm, I clasp it tightly.

  “Thank you for helping.” His words are barely above a whisper. “I hope your mom has something to help. I can’t stand to see her so sick.”

  “I know.” With a slight shift, I push my head against his and press my chin toward his neck, my lips next to his ear. “Get some sleep if you can. I’ll look out for both of you.”

  Tension in his muscles seems to drain, and he swipes a thumb across the back of my hand. His breathing deepens and his eyes close. His other arm, under Kat’s body and holding her to him, loosens.

  Staring at their faces, similar yet different, my heart squeezes with the thought of something happening to these friends who’ve become part of my small world—my family.

  Chapter Forty

  “You fail as a lookout,” Max murmurs into my ear, his eyes sparkling. I jerk awake, but he holds a finger to my lips. “Shh.” Pointing to Kat, who lies curled in the bed asleep, he straightens.

  Somehow, he slid from between Kat and me and slipped out of the bed while I sawed logs. He’s right. I’m a horrible lookout.

  I brush a lock of Kat’s hair from her face. Her cheeks seem less ruddy, her brow is smooth, and her hair is dry. Trying to be stealthy, I slowly rise on an elbow, careful to not shift the mattress and wake her.

  Max’s hand drops, and he pulls me to my feet and leads me out of the room, closing the door enough to leave an open crack between the bedroom and hallway.

  “Your mom’s back.” He doesn’t let go of my hand.

  “Good. Did she get the medicine?” I rise on my tiptoes to stare into his eyes. Afternoon light from a window at the end of the hallway kisses his face, highlighting several flecks of dark blue interspersed in his stormy irises.

  His chest expands with a breath. “No.” He lowers his chin and closes his eyes. “It’s worse than we thought. She said there were over a hundred people lined up waiting to be seen by the doctor. They’d already ran out of supplies when she got there, and Doc Kemperling told them there wasn’t anything else he could do, they should return home, stay hydrated, and use any over-the-counter meds they have on hand.”

  “A hundred people?” I ask, trying to imagine what it must’ve looked like. People waiting in line all the way outside, spilling out into the parking lot. The clinic’s too small to hold more than twenty people on any given day.

  “And to make it even worse, most of them were kids.” He pulls me next to his body, as if seeking my comfort.

  “I’m scared.” I mold into his form, giving and seeking the same comfort.

  “Me, too.” He turns and presses his back against the wall and slides to the floor, dragging me with him and pulling me into his lap.

  A silent sob shakes his chest, and a wet tear drops from his cheek onto mine.

  I wrap my arms around his strong neck and let him bury his head in my hair to unleash his sorrow, my own mixing with his. We stay like this for a few minutes, encircled in our own bubble of grief, not letting anyone or anything else inside.

  After a little while, he draws a shaky breath. “I’m sorry.” His hot breath slides around my throat. He lifts his head and stares at me, pain twisting his mouth downward.

  “You have nothing to be sorry about.” I wipe his cheeks and stare into his gaze.

  “Men aren’t supposed to cry.” Heat radiates off him in waves and his eyes shift to the floor.

  “How dumb. Everyone cries at some point.” I place a small kiss on his cheek, then lift myself upward and work a kink from my neck. “I’d be more concerned if you didn’t cry, you know.”

  “Thanks.” A small flash of teeth greets me, and his face lightens. Placing his palms against the floor, he stands. “I’m going to run to the bathroom then check on Kat.”

  “Okay.” I head to the kitchen to find food for the both of us.

  Mamma and Daddy sit hunched over the table. Her face is haggard with purple circles under her eyes.

  Daddy chews on a toothpick. “Half-pint. Come here and give your old man a hug.” He waves me over.

  I lay my cheek against his shoulder.

  “How are you holding up?” He asks while absently ruffling my hair with a hand.

  “Okay, I guess.” Straightening, I release him and move to Mamma, wrapping her smaller frame next to mine. “How are you two doing?”

  “We’re okay, honey.” She places a kiss on my cheek. “Did Max tell you about the clinic?”

  “Yeah.” I pull away and sit in the empty chair at her side. “He said there was a shitload of sick people.”

  Both of her delicate eyebrows rise. “Language, Matilda Morgan. Just because the world is upside down doesn’t mean you have to stoop to such filth.” She gives Daddy a mock glare, which he pretends to ignore. “You and your father are two peas in a pod.”

  Unable to help myself, a huge smile lifts my mouth. “Sorry, Mamma.”

  She shakes her head and her lips quiver. “And you’re both impossible.”

  Daddy grins back at me for a second, then his face turns solemn. “I’m worried about Kat.”

  “Me, too.” I drum my fingers on the table and stare at the scratched surface. “At least she’s not puking or having so much diarrhea, though, so that’s a good thing, right?”

  Mamma shifts in her seat. Her gaze darts from the salt and pepper shakers, to my dad, then land on me. “Not necessarily.” She sighs. “I didn’t tell Max, but the doc said ten people have already died, most of them kids.”

  “No.” I clench my fist. “How is this even feasible? Didn’t they just start getting sick? Is it possible to die in twenty-four hours from a simple stomach virus?”

  “It’s not common—” She props her chin in a palm. “—but yes, it can happen. And without any type of hospital equipped with proper medical supplies, there’s not a lot to be done.”

  Daddy pulls out the toothpick and inspects the frayed end, which looks like the tip of an exploded firework. “God, I wish I had more goddamn cigarettes.” He flips it around and chews the other end. “But that isn’t even the worst part.” He grips Mamma’s shoulder. “Go on, tell her the other.”

  “Dr. Kemperling obtained slides from several sick patients and examined them under a microscope.”

  I freeze. I’m not sure if I want to hear what she’s about to say next, because I know it can’t be good.

  “He said it’s a virus unlike anything he’s ever seen.”

  The breath whooshes out of me. Turning my head, I stare at a blank spot on the wall and inhale the scent of the wood flooring under my feet, the slight yeasty smell from the biscuits Mamma keeps in the breadbox, and her and Daddy’s familiar smell of smoke and flowers.

  Like nothing he’s ever seen. “So we know for sure those bastard aliens released it, then?”

  She and Daddy both give a firm nod.

  A steady fury rises in my blood thinking of the implications. If they hurt my family or friends…

  Chapter Forty-One

  Two hours later, and Kat still sleeps, her breathing shallow.

  Mamma sits in a chair next to the bed and uses a stethoscope to listen to her chest, then her stomach.

  Max and I cling to one another, and Daddy stands behind, both of his arms curving around our shoulders and pulling our bodies into his embrace.

  She shakes her head, then removes and places the stethoscope around her neck. Her stare flickers to Max. “I can’t do anything else without IVs and a hospital.” A tear snakes its way down her cheek, and she swipes it away. Standing, she motions toward the chair. “Go sit wi
th her. Your presence might help. It certainly can’t hurt.”

  Max swallows and draws a breath through his nose. “Okay.” The tone of his voice is low and filled with pain. He lets go of my hand and sits, stroking Kat’s cheek.

  Her eyelids flutter open. “Max?”

  “Yes.” He leans forward, his spine stiff. “I’m here.”

  “It doesn’t hurt so much anymore.” Breathy, her words float on the air. “Where’s Daddy?” She tries to rise, but only makes it a couple of inches before collapsing to the bed.

  “He’s…” Max squeezes his eyes shut, “he’s on the way, okay?”

  She nods and closes her eyes, her breathing still shallow but rapid.

  Mamma taps my shoulder, and she and Daddy motion for me to follow them out of the room.

  But I linger, not wanting to leave either Kat or Max alone.

  “I love you.” He pushes his nose against hers. “Please…” he whispers and holds her cheeks in his cupped hands, “don’t leave me alone.” His shoulders shake, and a long sob tears from his throat, all the grief in the world condensed in one terrible sound.

  I’m an intruder right now. Blinking through my own tears, I back out of the room and shut the door, giving them privacy.

  Daddy tries to talk to me, but I bat his hand away and run to my room. I throw myself onto my bed and shove my face into the pillows, muffling my own wails for what’s unfolding.

  How have things happened so quickly? A worse thought rises. Is Kat’s fate also our own? I beat my fists against the mattress and scream with frustration. Please don’t take them from me. I don’t know if there really is a God or not, at least after everything that’s happened, but I’m willing to make a deal. I’ll stay here forever. I was wrong, this little town has been a haven, and if you heal Kat and don’t let anyone else get sick, I promise I’ll do whatever you want.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  I don’t know how long I stay in my room and cry, but the outside light streaming through my window turns twilight purple.