Trapped

by Ella James

  “Umm...I need a lot of food,” I said, and she laughed, probably because I didn't look like I'd eat a lot. “I'm here with friends,” I explained, slipping into chatty mode. “A girls' trip. We're all really hungry.”

  She got off her stool and stood to scoop and bag the almonds. “How many bags?”

  “Um, maybe six or seven,” I said.

  “Anything else?”

  “Mac and cheese and some of the potato soup.” I pretended to count on my fingers, revising my order. “Five bowls of soup and five of the mac and cheese.” She nodded, and I turned away to grab a basket and raid the canned food shelves. “Are you here for the park?” she asked, and I turned around with my mouth hanging open. “Yes— no. I mean, we're not sure yet.” I laughed away the awkwardness. “My friends can't decide on anything. We're really on a road trip.”

  I turned back to the shelves and grabbed a small shopping basket before I could sound any more suspicious. I tossed in several cans of miniature hot dogs, about a dozen peanut butter cracker packs, two jugs of water, two water purifying water bottles, a jumbo bag of peanut M&Ms, and some tuna.

  Then the door chimed, and I looked up and nearly died. It was a cop. A female cop. And as my gaze hit hers, her eyebrows shot up into her bangs.

  She looked over at the gray-haired woman, and my fingers trembled around the handle of the basket.

  “Is this her?” she asked casually.

  I glanced at the back of the store, already prepared to run; the brunette had stopped packaging my food and was leaning into the TV now, peering at something. The cop had stepped closer, and was waiting for the gray-haired woman to answer.

  I sat the basket on the floor and took two steps toward the end of the aisle, seconds from lunging into a sprint. But then the gray-haired lady's gentle laughter warmed the room.

  “I’m afraid not. Just passing through with some friends.”

  I had a moment’s relief—the cop thought I was that niece. Whatever her name was. The next moment, I almost jumped out of my skin when the brunette at the TV gasped. “Mama. Sara!” Her tone was that of someone just discovering something. I stopped, noticing for the first time the officer’s resemblance to both women. “Doesn’t Deb Crenshaw live in Golden, Colorado?”

  The officer nodded, and so did her mother.

  THANK YOU GOD. This was just a benign family drop-by! I laughed, high pitched and slightly maniacal. I turned around to get my basket, then I remembered that the brunette had been talking about Golden!

  “I think so.”

  Her daughter pointed to the TV. “They’ve got some kind of outbreak.”

  “Outbreak?” the other daughter, the police officer, asked.

  “It’s a virus.”

  Heart pounding, I stepped to the counter as the first daughter turned up the volume on the TV.

  I heard a female voice saying, “...new strain of zoonotic swine flu, which originated here, and so far has infected all four hog farms in this foothills town directly west of Denver. Can you tell us what's going on right now, Dr. Barnett?”

  I strained to get a better look at the TV, which was slanted toward the brunette, as she bagged my stuff and asked me how I wanted to pay.

  I handed her the card, and she pointed to my basket. “Do you want all this stuff, too?”

  I nodded, hoisting it onto the counter. “Sorry.”

  “You're fine,” she said, glancing again at the TV, which had clearly captured all our attention. “I hope that doesn’t make it anywhere up here,” she mused.

  “...at least four people in quarantine. We'll do everything we can to keep the residents of Golden safe and to keep the virus from spreading while we continue to develop a response.”

  There was footage of three people in hazmat suits entering a building I didn’t recognize, followed by an aerial shot of my hometown. Streets crisscrossed the humpy foothills, flattening out at little on the east side of the town, where the interstate connected it to downtown Denver.

  “Your total is forty-one oh-eight,” the brunette said, and I felt her mom and sister closing in behind me.

  She turned the TV toward her mom, and I recognized the image on the screen as our wind turbines.

  Standing out in front of Mitchell property, wearing a red jacket and a grim, down-to-business look as he spoke into a microphone, was Diego.

  MAYBE I SHOULDN'T have been so shocked. I had been waiting for it. For something dramatic, like helicopters. For something sneaky, like a sting operation in the general store, or the DoD's version of storm troopers coming over the hills in Yellowstone. I had been prepared for those things—every one of them.

  I hadn’t thought they’d go after Mom.

  As I shouldered through the glass door and stepped into the cold, I felt like I was going to throw up. The walkway tilted slightly and the sky twirled; I made it to the passenger's side door without dropping anything, but my hands were shaking too badly to work the door handle.

  Nick pushed the door open, and I climbed in on numb legs, settling the water bottles at my feet and the hot food in my lap. I looked at him, and I knew I looked freaked out, but I couldn't seem to find my voice.

  Turns out, I didn’t need to tell him. “I know,” he said. “I was surfing frequencies.” He pointed to a satellite dish attached to the side of the building.

  Tears filled my eyes, and my throat got very tight, but I didn't let myself cry as he backed out and shot off toward the park.

  “They have my mom. In Golden. Diego was on my family's land, posing as someone from the CDC,” I said hoarsely. I inhaled deeply, glancing at Nick's sharp eyes. “They're saying there's this virus there. Swine flu that spread to humans, and they're putting people under quarantine...” I shrugged, feeling my lips tremble. I wish I had stayed and watched more of the report. I should have kept my head.

  The alien hunters have mom!

  Heat lapped my throat, my stomach churned, and in a heartbeat I was dry-heaving into the grocery bags. I was able to get it under control before anything came up. I squeezed my eyes shut as tears ran down my cheeks.

  “I'm sorry,” I gasped, feeling embarrassed.

  Nick's hand found my nape, his fingers spreading gently in my hair. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

  “I- I can't believe they did that. I thought they would...chase us.”

  Nick brushed my hair back off my face, his hand gentle although his voice was hard. “This is smarter,” he said. “They know we’ll come get her.”

  I felt a glimmer of hope. “We will?”

  “Not you.”

  “What?”

  “Just Vera and I.”

  “Of course I’m going!” I thought of Mom, out of her mind with worry for me, and Diego coming to our door and— “Nick, I didn't tell her anything.” My voice cracked on a sob.

  Nick squeezed my shoulder before moving his hand back to the wheel. He was driving slightly fast, looking at the road that led into the park with eagle eyes, like a soldier at war. “What exactly did you see inside the store? I need every detail.”

  I shook my head. “They said the CDC is in Golden...” I inhaled deeply, trying to keep my emotions under control. “That’s the Centers—you know what it is.” He nodded. “They're there because of this supposed 'virus'.” My voice dropped a notch. “Diego was practically in my yard. He was talking to a reporter, pretending that he worked for the CDC.”

  He looked angry, but his hand dipped down to clasp mine.

  “What should we do?” I asked. I wiped my eyes. I felt steadier now. Still surreal, but a little more with it.

  Nick raised his eyebrows. “Get more data.”

  A few dozen yards past the archway, Nick hit the brakes, parking the car a few feet off road, beside a lone pine. He turned the car off and rested his forehead on the wheel, still holding my hand. The hairs on the back of my neck pricked up, like there was a static charge.

  He stayed that way for more than a minute, and I felt sort of like I d
id during our middle school séance. When he finally sat up, he said, “That was easy.”

  “What!” I snapped.

  “I was able to access the CDC’s main server.”

  “And?” I said, trying not to balk at the notion that he'd gotten online using only his head.

  “They’re claiming virus started on Suxley's farms,” Nick said darkly. “They didn’t name the six people 'infected.' Just patient numbers.”

  My heart slowed, like it was trying to beat through glue. “My mom is one.”

  “She probably is, but Milo, we have to do this carefully. I know you said you wanted to go, but it would be better if I go alone. Vera isn't nice, but she'd be—”

  “No! No way!” I took a deep breath, but kept him pinned with my eyes. “I need to see my mom.”

  He sighed and pulled back onto the road. “I know.”

  Tears filled my eyes again as I imagined him back on that stretcher. “But I don't want you to get caught.”

  His eyes moved over my face. “No way they can catch me. Or you.”

  “Promise?”

  He nodded. “Promise.”

  We flew around the first curve en route to the springs, and another wave of freak-out steamrolled me. “What about Vera? You still have to convince her to consider that we pass the test!” Tears filled my eyes. “I have to help my mom, but what are we going to do about Vera?”

  “Not we,” Nick interjected. “Me. You don't have to do anything. Leave Vera to me.”

  “I can't!” I cried. “You have no plan!” I was freaking out now, seconds away from needing a brown paper bag. “How in the hell are you gonna get her to blow that stupid whistle?”

  He opened his mouth, but I waved an arm at him. “How can you be sure? I need to know for sure you’re not getting beamed up later today, along with someone who would argue that the only reason you think we pass the test is because you ended up in a ‘defective vessel!’”

  His hand was on my knee. “You need to know what for sure?” he said, firm but gentle.

  “All of it,” I said through tears. “I know you can't tell me for sure, but—”

  “You're right, I can't,” he said, “but remember this: On our planet, Vera and I are like identical twins. Scratch that: We’re much closer to clones. All scouts are, as are all messengers ‘genetically’ identical to all messengers, as manufacturers are to manufacturers, and so on. This is helpful because Vera and I think the same way. I know what to say to change her mind. I gave her last night to sleep on things, and I’m about to go another ‘round with her. On the drive back south, if there’s no other time.”

  This did not make me feel better, but I encountered the one benefit of having too much to worry about—I couldn’t worry about anything anymore. We parked the truck in the same place as before and I spied Vera lying on a rock beside the springs, her long legs dangled in such a human-looking pose.

  Before we started over, Nick pulled me into his arms and tucked his chin atop my head.

  “Thank you,” I whispered.

  “I'm sorry,” he said tightly. He pulled away, looking down at my face with a pensive twist to his mouth. “Regret is interesting.”

  “What do you regret?”

  “That I came back to your house—”

  “We wouldn't be here together.”

  “Yeah, and you'd be safe.”

  “I haven't gotten hurt yet.”

  “I’ll make sure we don’t.” He took my hand, and together we walked over to Vera.

  “That was a long trip. I saw the data you accessed 'online,'” she said with a quick eye roll. She was looking at Nick, as if I wasn’t there. “I guess your friends at the Department of Defense are having another party.”

  Nick nodded. “Milo's mother is involved. We need to check on her.”

  Vera snorted. “I'll make Milo into someone else, and she can go to Golden. I’m sure she can handle it.” She smiled, showing light dimples, and for a second I could imagine her in my high school yearbook.

  “Absolutely not,” Nick said. “I'm not leaving her. Regardless, that’s too risky.”

  “You don't make our choices,” Vera snapped. “Disguising her would not be too risky. Something happening to you in that piece of junk body is what's too risky!”

  Nick stared at her, unblinking. “Blow the whistle again. Call off the summons. We can talk here. Maybe you can change my mind.”

  “I have no reason to, or have you forgotten? Dissent doesn’t exist when We are with The Rest, so it doesn’t matter if you want to fragment or engage in coitus or stand on your head or take up skateboarding.” She shook her head. “I'm not blowing the whistle.”

  His eyes flashed. “I won’t, either. You do know that? I’m not returning—not until I know your recommendation would be ‘not.’”

  “You’ll be made to,” she said, but she sounded uncertain.

  “You don’t know what would happen,” he said.

  “Because it’s never happened before.”

  “I won’t agree with you. There will be no necessary consensus.”

  “You're an idiot, then,” Vera snapped. “Go to the girl’s mother. I won’t go with you.”

  “We need to pack,” Nick said, turning away from Vera as he spoke. He glanced back at her with a harsh look on his face, then strode to my tent. I followed, feeling like yesterday's trend. When I got within a foot or two of him, he took my hand, his eyes burning.

  “I don’t want you to come into Golden,” he said, looking down on me with a war of emotion on his face. “We can go close, but you're not going into the so-called quarantine area.”

  “I’m not promising anything.”

  His face softened a little, and without looking over his shoulder, toward Vera, who was sulking by the car, he dropped a butterfly-soft kiss on my cheek. The bliss coursing through my veins was so potent, so incredible, that I thought all the ‘E’ in the world couldn't possibly top it.

  And thinking of E made me think of my cousin West.

  THE THING ABOUT my cousins is, they aren’t actually my cousins. No family trees with branches pointing back to Milo. No sticky blood ties to put them on a watch list. Nothing but a friendship between our dads, our moms, and us. Summers at Yellowstone and Grand Teton. Winters at Veil. Tacky Christmas sweater exchanged. The occasional trip to Evergreen Lake.

  West was 19, Aerie was 15, and their parents, William and Skylar, were the only people I could think of outside Golden who would know for sure if my mom was okay.

  My idea would've been a lot safer if West had actually cracked a book his freshman year at UC Boulder. We’d be able to get off I-25, southbound toward Denver, around Longmont and veer west toward Boulder, never even passing by Golden. Unfortunately, West toked his way out of school, which brought down the wrath of his dad, resulting in West being banished to UC Denver for the rest of his college career.

  Denver right by Golden, and I felt sure the DoD would be there, too, but going to downtown Denver would be better than walking right to them. An added bonus: I didn't think West would ever rat me out, regardless of what the DoD might say about me. If anything, he was the kind of guy who might actually believe my story.

  It didn’t take long to convince Nick, probably because my plan sounded safer than storming Mitchell Windfarms. After we packed the tents and the bags, we found Vera leaning against the side of the SUV-uck, looking out at the springs.

  “We’re leaving, Vera,” Nick said. “You coming?”

  She glued her lips in a nasty, pinched expression, and said, “You're pathetic. I hope you know that.”

  Nick had to duck his head to hide his grin.

  The vibe was pretty nasty until we were about two hours out of Gardiner, driving east on I-90, which had taken us north for a bit before dipping into Wyoming.

  I was driving, Nick was riding shotgun, and Vera was sitting in the back. She'd changed into a gray, suede-looking dress with fringe along the bottom and some kind of brown, fur vest thin
g over it, along with knee-length boots that looked like they were made of deerskin.

  I was still wearing my trusty sparkly leggings, white dress, and black and red plaid jacket, plus another pair of fluffy socks, but it didn’t even bother me that I was looking so ugh. All I could think about was Mom.

  “Vera?” Nick sounded confused.

  I glanced behind me and did a double-take. Vera was sitting there, with her legs crossed and a small smile on her lips, holding something in between her fingers. At first I thought it was a whistle—Nick had passed me his, for safekeeping, back when we were disassembling Vera's tent—but a second later when I inhaled the smoke, I realized it was a cigarette.

  Nick whirled in the passenger's seat. “Vera!” He looked at her like she'd just grown another head.

  “What?” She blew a puff of smoke our way, and I cracked my window. “You wanted me to experience being human, right?”

  “Put it out,” Nick said.

  “Is this what you like about them, Nick? The hedonism? Everything that pleases them hurts them.”

  “At least we don’t advocate mass genocide!” I snapped.

  She raised an eyebrow, and I amended: “Not intelligent life. We don’t invade other planets.”

  “Yet,” she said, smug as she blew a huge cloud of smoke in my face. “You only murder your own kind.”

  I coughed, and Nick said, “Put it out, Vera, or I'm coming back there.”

  She inhaled again, then rolled the window down and threw it out, still burning.

  “You could start a forest fire.”

  “In a few days there won’t be any forests anyway,” she muttered, blowing the last of her smoke at me. I coughed, and Vera rolled her eyes. “Isn't this what life as a singular being is all about? My choices?”

  I glanced behind me, arching my brows. “We're not hedonists, at least not all of us.” My life, at least for the past few years, had felt more about pain than pleasure. Thinking of that got me feeling kind of dark, so when she shot her signature sour look at me, I was pissed. “I didn't pick this situation either, you know. For someone who exists as part of a large group, you have a surprising lack of empathy.”