Trapped

by Ella James

  Vera’s head snapped back, and one of her hands flew up to cup her cheek. Her lips parted in shock, but before she could get a word out, Diego shoved a fold-out chair behind me and barked, “Sit.”

  “Tell me what you did to Nick!”

  “Sit down, Milo Mitchell,” he said in a sterner tone.

  I did, mainly because my legs were quivering. I looked back over at Nick. He was sitting there vacantly, handsome as ever but totally gone.

  “What did you do to Nick?” I said again. I could feel the tears building somewhere way behind my eyes, but I was too livid to cry.

  “Why don’t you take a moment to gather your emotions?” Diego said.

  My emotions were a riot. I put my hands on my knees and bowed my head and tugged back big, deep breaths, not because he’d asked me to, but because the pressure in my chest was kind of scaring me.

  Behind my awful gasping, I heard West’s voice ask, “What’s going on, Milo? This shit is creepy.”

  I opened my eyes and tried to get a handle on myself. As I did, I saw Diego flick his wrist at West. Sid stepped up behind West’s foldout chair and pinched him on the neck, in the same spot where Vera had pinched Nick in the car. West slumped over, his head dead weight on his shoulders, his cuffed hands hanging limply into his lap.

  I jumped to my feet. “He didn’t do anything wrong!”

  “He’s fine,” Diego said dismissively.

  “Well answer his question! What is going on here? Why is Nick like that? What the hell did you freaks do to him?” I looked from Diego to Sid to Ariel, who was leaning against the door we’d come in. “Why isn’t Vera like he is?” I demanded. Diego opened his mouth, and another question struck me. “Why don’t you remember meeting me? And why the hell are you wearing a tie with that outfit?”

  Vera looked down at her feet, and I had a sick feeling.

  And then I knew. I just knew. Even as I asked the question, I knew. “You’re aliens, aren’t you?”

  Diego held his hands out and applauded. “That didn’t take nearly as I thought.”

  I turned to Vera. “I can’t believe you! How could you do this to him?”

  She stared back at me with a completely neutral expression, and Diego wagged his finger.

  “Don’t blame ‘Vera,’” Diego admonished. “She blew that whistle, just as she promised.”

  “I don’t get it.” I was sweating now, trembling as I struggled to realize what this meant. “Why are you here? What do you want?”

  I glanced at Vera, but she wasn’t handing out answers. My gaze gravitated toward Nick, who was still staring straight ahead. I wanted to scream and cry over the loss of him. I wanted to drive my fist through walls. In the seconds before Alien Diego answered, I struggled to draw air into my lungs.

  “I can take credit for that, I suppose,” he said. “You never know, it might be remembered as my first act of leadership.” He stroked a hand over his blond hair. “Even among my fellow….we’re more spies than scouts, although I prefer to think of myself as a revolutionary.” Alien Diego smiled a little. “But even among my fellow spies, I’m among the more curious. Why was the alarm raised in the first place? ‘Vera’ had reported only an unspecified hardware error, which she later reported resolved. She had wiped her log clean, of course, but I knew she was partnered with ‘Nick’; when I checked his logs, voila. The incident log was still there in its entirety, which I now understand is because Nick couldn’t wipe them from this hastily thrown-together body.”

  Diego tsk’d. “I couldn’t find anything wrong with the vessel he had prepared. Nor could I find a reason as to why he chose to modify a human body and deviate from his pre-set destination—a location that appeared to be intact.”

  Alien Diego gave me a look that was caught between a leer and a grin; it made my stomach roll.

  “To find out, I checked his data transfer patterns. All the information he had ever marked for review. The planets he chose to investigate. I followed the paths he took through the stars, and I recognized a journey similar to my own.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “It means we had come to the same conclusion about Our fate as The Rest. At least, I suspected we had.”

  From over to my right, where she still sat on the bench, Vera snapped, “What conclusion is this?”

  “That fragmentation is necessary for survival, of course.”

  Vera’s gasp suggested this was the first time they were having this conversation. I looked to Nick automatically and immediately wished I hadn’t. Like before, his expression was vacant. As if he wasn’t even here. I opened my mouth to fire off more questions at Diego, but his attention was on Vera.

  “Oh, please, ‘Vera,’ you’ve seen it too. So have ‘Sid’ and ‘Ariel.’ We’ve all seen the same thing, because we are the same thing. We are the only fragment of our species with any capacity for independent processing. And when we’re not overwhelmed by our collective desires, it’s not so difficult to see: The Rest is doomed.”

  Vera opened her mouth to protest, but Ariel beat her to it. “Vera, don’t be dense. We’ve clearly reached the point of no return.”

  “Except we have a way out,” Diego cut in. “Those of us that I call spies—or ‘scouts,’ if you will. We’re different in a vital way. We can put ourselves anywhere. Take any form. As we’ve done on this planet. We’ve always known it. But only ‘Nick’ had the courage to do it.”

  He looked admiringly at Nick, whose face remained an awful mask.

  “I decided I wanted to experience whatever ‘Nick’ was experiencing, so I searched for a suitable host. Human interfaces are laughably easy to access, and instantaneously I located this human.” He waved at himself. “Lance Coleman, code-named Diego, leader of a secret government team charged with finding extraterrestrials. And he happened to be on the trail of two.

  “We abducted Diego, Sid, and Ariel, wiped their memories, and here we are.” He looked me in the eye, his green eyes hard. “We are here to stay.”

  “What about Nick? Where’s he? What did he do wrong?”

  I glanced over at Nick again, desperate to see something on his face—but he was like a robot. I saw him blink, and I could tell he was breathing…but there was no sign of life inside.

  Diego didn’t even look at Nick, just kept on talking. To Vera? To me? I couldn’t tell. He seemed to be enjoying himself, almost orating for his own amusement. “We have close to thirty-eight hours before our transfer process is perfected—before we initiate the fragmentation—but after that, we should be able to start bringing in like-minded…people,” he said with a small smile.

  If every alien body-snatching ended a human life… I held my stomach. “How many are you talking about?”

  “Not many,” Diego said. “If my calculations are correct, slightly less than two billion.”

  I MUST HAVE gasped, because Diego frowned.

  “That’s not even a third of your population. We’ll be slowed by numbers—we began as four—” he nodded in the direction of Ariel and Sid, and then at Vera— “but once the transfer process gets further underway, we should be able to double our number every three hours. The entire process, start to finish, should take about eighty of your hours.”

  That was only three and a half days!

  West lifted his head a little, and my eyes shot to him. He looked sleepy, but he wasn’t…void, like Nick was.

  “They’re going to fill the ranks of the world’s elite, of course,” Diego was saying, “but most of them are going to go into bodies of the relatively young. Ideally in the fifteen to thirty-five-year-old age range. Which makes you perfect.” His eyes met mine, and I experienced my first real moment of terror.

  “You’re going to…take my body?” I choked.

  “Probably not, as it were. Since you were so kind to our brother Nick, we’re going to leave you alone, albeit with a wiped memory.”

  “You’re going to erase my memory?” I put my hand to my chest, horrified
at the thought.

  He nodded slowly.

  “No, you can’t!” I jumped up. “There’s no reason to! I’d never tell! Like you said, I’m a friend!”

  “You’re not one of us. Therefore, our memory will be wiped.” My stomach twisted, and I finally got the nerve to sob out, “Is that what you did to Nick?”

  Diego shook his head. “The one you know as Nick is in suspension.”

  “What does that mean?” I said tearily.

  “When we arrived, we weren’t sure what to expect from Nick. I put a kink in his atomic transfer, until I make a final decision on whether to keep him.”

  I could feel the blood drain from my face; maybe even from my heart. I swear, it stopped beating. “What are you talking about?” I was shaking now, shaking and sweating and crying and pacing. “Why wouldn’t you want Nick around?” My voice cracked. “You just said that he’s a leader!”

  Diego shook his head. “His thoughts are exceptionally difficult to decipher. I’m not sure what he is. I’m curious. I will admit that. But I don’t know. And I don’t have time right now to look and see.”

  “Well you need to make time! You can’t leave him that way!” I needed him!

  “He’s not asleep. He’s simply in a state of non-existence.”

  “Bring him back,” I cried.

  Diego shook his head. “You should regain control of your emotions. I can see they’ve gotten away from you. Humans,” he mused. “Perhaps with effort we could redesign your DNA, a tweak.” He arched a brow.

  I shook my head. “I want to see my mom! And wake up West! You can’t just come in here and…take control!”

  Diego smiled a little. “I can do just that. In fact…” He looked at Sid. “I see no reason to spare the life of this one.” He nodded at West, and my heart stopped.

  Vera jumped up. “That human aided us as well.”

  “Be that as it were…” Diego shrugged, and West’s eyes widened. “Dude, please…”

  Diego smiled a little, stiff and formal, as if he was greeting his host at a dinner party. Then he pulled a gun out of his pocket and pulled the trigger. West flew back, crimson blooming on his shirt as he crumpled.

  “WEST!” I flung myself on him, frantically pressing on his chest in an attempt to put some pressure on his wound, but I couldn’t even see where the bullet had hit him. Blood was everywhere. The room tilted around me. So much blood… Like Dad. I turned him on his side, climbed on top of him, and tried to clamp my knees around the wound, but his body started shaking—then went very still. My fingers, painted red, peeled his eyes open, but all I could see was white. I pressed against his throat, looking for a pulse but feeling nothing.

  “West, please… West please, please! Oh no, God…please. God, please.” I curled over him and clutched his shoulders, sobbing violently.

  From somewhere far away, I could hear Vera’s voice. From somewhere far away, I could hear screaming and banging, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except West. That is, until I remembered Nick…

  I lifted my head just in time to see Agent Orange step through the locker room door. He looked at Diego. “Ursula is outside. She’s flipping out to be let in.”

  The door behind him shook, and I could hear Ursula screaming. With one final look at my poor Nick, I dashed to the door and played the only card I had. “Ursula, HELP! They’re aliens! Sid, Diego, Ariel! HELP me, please!”

  Alien Ariel tackled me from behind, slamming me to the floor, but she couldn’t shut me up.

  “URSALA, THEY’RE ALIENS!” I sobbed.

  I heard punches of gunfire as Ariel yanked my hair and I kicked at her. Another round of rapid-fire; clearly a machine gun. Then the door flew open. Ursula stood there, panting, with McIntire behind her. Her gray eyes flew to Ariel and me, then from Diego to Sid.

  I glanced up, and through the blur of my tears saw Diego aim his gun at the doorway. McIntire fell dead. Ursula returned fire, and Sid, Diego, Ariel, and even Vera hit the ground.

  Nick had never even moved.

  “Take care of this,” Diego barked. Arial and Sid rushed Ursula, who took off running.

  I curled my body around West’s, hoping the next bullet was for me.

  It wasn’t.

  I lay there sobbing, caressing West’s frizzy hair, ripped apart by my desire for Nick, Nick who was gone. Nick was gone and West was dead.

  “Oh God no. God no. I can’t take it anymore!” I couldn’t get my mouth to quit moving, so I just kept screaming, each word fractured by my sobs. I felt no fear as Vera and Diego whispered somewhere nearby. I felt no fear until I looked down at my bloody hands. So much blood. The smell… I crawled away from West and vomited on the tile floor.

  I started to crawl back to West, but one look at his face and I could feel it in my soul that he was gone. Regret slammed through me like a bullet. I had done this to him. I had murdered West. The pain was debilitating. Too much for me to bear. Too much for me to bear alone.

  I crawled slowly, painfully to Nick.

  He looked beautiful sitting there, so solemn and real. So very alive. I wrapped my hands around his legs and cried, “Come back! Come back, Nick! Please come back! I can’t do this without you. I can’t live without you. Please, Nick…please.”

  I could feel the warmth of his legs through his khaki pants. I could feel him inhale and exhale. “Please come back, Nick. Please, please, don’t leave me, I can’t do it! Nick, please, please…”

  I curled up in a ball and pressed my cheek against the floor. “Nick come back,” I murmured, over and over.

  I heard some people talking. What were they saying? I didn’t care. Voices rose and fell like the music of an opera. And finally, I could hear Nick’s voice among them. I could feel his arms around me, lifting me up, holding me close.

  “Milo. Milo, baby. I love you Milo.”

  I opened my eyes and saw his beautiful face, and I didn’t care if it was real or not. I smiled up at him. Then I saw Diego. He reached over Nick’s shoulder and put his fingers to my cheek.

  I HATE THE alarm. It’s not a radio alarm; it’s one of those old-fashioned bell alarms. I helped Dad fix it when I was in sixth grade, and that’s why I keep it. Otherwise, that clanging demon would have been yard-sold years ago.

  I hate the alarm even more today, because it wakes me, as it has every morning for three weeks, from my dream.

  The same dream, every night, always about him.

  I don’t know what he looks like; it’s dark and steamy, and we’re swimming in water that feels just perfect. I do remember what he feels like. Broad shoulders. Strong arms. Smooth skin. Soft lips.

  I remember the way he made me feel, too. Important. Cared for. Beautiful.

  It’s the weirdest dream experience I’ve ever had. I’m thinking about booking a visit with Dr. Sam to talk about it, because I just don’t get it. Every morning I wake up wishing I could fall back asleep. It’s a terrible feeling, and reminds me of waking up months after Dad died and, for just a few seconds, not remembering that he did. Then, the crushing disappointment, except this time I’m disappointed to be awake, which might be something else to talk to Dr. Sam about.

  It’s overcast outside. I groan, because the sky has been cloudy for days, and each morning seems darker and gloomier than the last.

  I try to remember my dream as I shower. I try to get the water so it feels like a second skin, but I’m always disappointed. Still, it’s easier to remember him in here, when everything’s steamy. My dream boy.

  Finally, after what turns out to be almost forty minutes in the shower, I blow dry my dark hair, throw on a sweater and jeans, and trot down the stairs. Mom’s stayed to make breakfast, something she’s done each of the three mornings since they released her from quarantine.

  She pours me some orange juice and slides waffle onto the table in front of me. “Did you sleep well?” she asks—and I can tell she’s worried about me.

  I give her my brightest smile, because she deserves it af
ter what she’s been through lately, first with the turbines all malfunctioning at once, and then with her getting the new, human version of swine flu.

  “I did,” I tell her.

  She drizzles syrup over her own waffle. “Do you have any plans this weekend?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know. I think I might just stay home and read or something.” I arch my back and reach toward the ceiling, moving my arm over my face so maybe she won’t notice the yawn that accompanies my stretch.

  “I think I’m going to start a new project,” she announces after a moment of silence.

  “Wow—you’re kidding.”

  It’s been a long time since my mom started working on new art. We spend the rest of breakfast discussing her plans, for a sculpture made of rubber bands and paperclips.

  Mom drives me to school, because she says she’s tired of being cooped up indoors after her quarantine, and that’s fine with me. I’ve been feeling kind of lonely lately, so I appreciate the company. We’re mostly quiet as we ride. A lot of people are in town, unable to drive into Denver to work, but most of them are in their homes, so Golden feels kind of like a ghost town.

  Most of the people who are out are commando-looking guys with automatic rifles, or the occasional doctor type in a white lab coat. They’re the ones who figured out a vaccine, and were the first to get inoculated.

  A lottery for the rest of us started yesterday, and they’re doing high school kids first.

  “Maybe you’ll get the shot today,” mom mused.

  “I hate shots.” Just thinking about that needle made my skin crawl. “Honestly, I’m not sure if I want it or not.”

  “If they draw your name, you’re getting it,” she tells me.

  I shrug. “Okay.”

  I walk the hall in a haze that seems permanent these days. I have homeroom with Halah, who sits one seat back and one row right of me. I still don’t want to see her. We’re kind of fighting, although I’m not sure about what.