The Grey Ones

by Candra Baguley

Chapter 2

  The magazine releases and falls into the center of my palm, empty. My fingertips pinch the end of the cold barrel and I realize there’s no way the wounding bullets came from my gun. As my hands tremble, I toss the empty weapon aside; there’s no use for it anymore. When I rise to my feet, I stand over the creature that has fallen into a puddle of its own black blood. I watch it use its long nails to dig at the bullet that pierced into the center of its forehead. The shot narrowly missed the armored skin protecting its body.

  My eyes scan half of the room in search for the shooter. Stopping at the window, I notice a light bouncing around in the distance. The mysterious figure leaps out from the swaying trees. Racing towards us, I can see his face. It’s Travis. He’s carrying a sniper rifle in his hands, the flashlight attached to the end of the barrel beams sporadically with each step he takes.

  There’s a sound of metal clinking, followed by claws scraping against the hardwood floor behind me. I flip around to an empty room. A bullet lies in the pool of black blood that’s begun rippling over like a puddle of drying paint. My eyes follow the trail of blood drops that lead out the doorway, down the dark narrow hall.

  When glass shatters in the living room I remember the window that never got boarded up. The monster must have jumped out of it to escape. Hopefully, this scared it away and it won’t return with more friends to finish this battle.

  Without the noise of scraping claws and high-pitched screams, the cabin is silent once again. The only sound that remains is the wind, howling through the trees. Which means, the creature really is gone.

  “Isabelle, Ty, are you both okay?” Travis’s deep voice shouts loudly over the wind.

  I don’t realize I’m holding my breath until I hear him climb through the bedroom window. Exhaling, I whip around on my heel to face him. The brown hair on his face has bits of mud stuck to it, and there is blood stained on his green shirt. He stands tall in front of me as his light blue eyes search my body for wounds. When he sees the blood dripping from my wrists he wraps his hands over the wounds and applies pressure.

  “I think it’s gone.” I say. My eyes shift from his hands to his face.

  He looks past me at the blood on the floor. His hands tremble, but not because he’s scared. No. By the way he clenches his jaw tightly, I can tell he’s shaking in anger.

  “You didn’t check?” He asks calmly. His eyes shift to the open door behind me. He squints, creating fine crow’s feet as he attempts to see through the darkness.

  “No.” I reply.

  Still focused on the hallway, he presses his lips together. He doesn’t say a word as he listens to the night. After a few seconds of silence, he says quietly, “Clean and wrap your wounds. I’ll be right back.”

  The dry mud on his beard scrapes against my cheek as he kisses it softly. Pulling away from me, he pats Ty on his shaggy light brown hair before stomping towards the bed. His body bends over the weapons bag as he exchanges his long range sniper rifle for a short range rifle. With his gun drawn, he marches away. He doesn’t make it out the doorway before stopping. Waiting for him to say something, I focus on the red blood that has soaked the shoulders of his shirt.

  “Isabelle, this is a Code White.”

  “A Code White? It just got dark Travis, we can’t go out there right now.” I talk so quickly my words almost run together. I know that we aren’t safe here anymore, but going out there at night is suicide.

  He glances back over his shoulder at me; the deep scar on his left cheek is visible even under the mud. Keeping his tone calm, he says, “Belle, we have no choice. Get ready.”

  It takes me a few seconds after he walks away to begin pulling out the bags from underneath the bed. We never travel at night, and for good reason. The night belongs to the Grey Ones now.

  I reach under the bed to search for my backpack. My hand pats around the floorboards until I find Ty’s shoes lying beside my bag. My fingers hook through the crisscrossed laces and slide them out. While Ty focuses on the hallway I toss the light brown boots on the bed next to him. They bounce off the mattress and smack into his side, which causes him to jolt in surprise. His terrified eyes search for what that could’ve been, stopping when he finds the shoes. Once he’s realized it’s not another attack, he calms down a little.

  “Ty, put on your boots. We need to get out of here.” I say.

  “Ok.” He replies, glancing back at the empty doorway.

  As he begins to throw them on over his thick socks, I pop open the first aid kit that was stuffed deep inside of my backpack. Gently, I dab at the wounds on one of my wrists with alcohol wipes before grabbing a set of gauze from the kit. The cotton pad sticks to the puncture wounds while blood continues to trickle out. After wrapping my wrist tightly with bandage I begin the same process on the other one.

  By the time I finish, Ty is sitting on the bed with his boots tied tight. His blue eyes stare down the hallway, probably searching for Travis. Even after I sit on the bed beside him, he stays sitting in the same place, still searching through the darkness. My arm wraps around his shoulder and pulls him.

  “He’s okay.” My tone is soft in an attempt to soothe him.

  “I know.” He replies as he continues to stare down the hall. I follow his line of vision to see what he’s staring off at. Without any electricity, the hall has been swallowed by the night.

  A few hours after the invasion, we lost all power. Even our cell phones stopped working. It’s like something was preventing us from reaching out to one another for help. We don’t know what caused it, but my guess is that it was the intruders. That’s the only reasonable explanation.

  At the end of the hall, a faint light dances around the front of the cabin - what used to be our family room. It’s been so long since we’ve had moonlight peeking inside that I almost forgot how relaxing it can be.

  My eyes shift back to Ty, who’s still zoned out. I need to give him something to do. I scan the room in search of anything to distract him. When I spot his empty hydration pack lying on the bed next to him I come up with an idea.

  “Hey Ty. Will you fill up your water bag?” I ask.

  “Yeah.” He replies, without looking away from the hall.

  I don’t push him to do it. Instead, I slide off the bed knowing he’ll get it done. I have my own assignments to take care of.

  My knees press into the old hardwood as I dig inside my bag. I need to make sure our backpacks have the essentials; flashlights, snacks, waters, extra batteries, matches, one set of clothes for each of us, along with a few other things.

  Our emergency bags only have what we need while travelling in between locations. We split the supplies up between us to make it a lighter load to move with; in case we’re ever being chased. The rest of our supplies are stored in other hideaways.

  “Mom, will you hand me a water bottle for my bag?” Ty asks with his camouflage hydration pack sitting in his lap. He hasn’t stopped searching yet. I hold back on replying with the hope that he’ll stop worrying about his dad.

  When I don’t respond, he finally averts his eyes. He glances over at me, only long enough to see me smile and nod at him. I throw a water bottle from my backpack on the bed and watch as it bounces once before stopping next to his leg. He grabs the full bottle before turning his attention back to the hall.

  Travis’s boots echo loudly through the cabin with every step he takes back towards the bedroom. Slipping into the room, he marches in front of me. I glance up at him as his hand reaches back over his shoulder and pulls his bloodstained camouflage shirt over his head. His dog tags fall in the center of his muscular chest, next to the globe-eagle-anchor tattoo over his heart. The phrase “Semper Fi” is in bold lettering below. He got that tattoo four years ago with a group of marine friends. One of the soldiers from their platoon died in battle and they wanted to do something in honor of him. That was long ago though. Now, we don’t know where any of the soldiers from his platoon are.

  Ever since t
he invasion, Travis hasn’t been able to get in touch with anyone from the Marines; or any other military service for that matter. The only reason he was home when they attacked was because his mother had died and he had bereavement for the funeral. He was scheduled to fly back the day after the invasion happened. I can’t imagine what would have happened if he hadn’t been here when they came.

  For the last six months, he has been training us to defend ourselves. I’ve become a pro with throwing daggers, while he is better with guns. Together we make one hell of a team.

  “The Grey One is gone as far as I can see,” He says buttoning his dark blue jeans, “But I still think we need to go, we’re not safe here anymore.”

  “Which bunker are we heading for?” I ask and pick at the bandaging that’s wrapped around my wrist. My light skin around it is becoming red. I wrapped them too tightly.

  He pulls the black shirt over his short dark brown hair, tugging it down to cover his chiseled abs. The dried mud on his face has begun to break apart uncovering small bits of his dark brown beard. I swear this man is even better looking when he’s dirty from a long day.

  “We’re going to head to Bunker 3. It’s a few miles away and across a creek, so the Grey Ones should have a harder time tracking us.”

  He walks over to me with his tattooed arms stretched out. Clenching my forearms, he lifts me to my feet. He grips my waist and pulls me in close for a hug. My body tingles when his dirty fingers skim through my long, dark blonde hair. While he plays with my hair, I shove my face in his hard chest and breathe him in. He smells like dirt, sweat, and a hint of deodorant. In his arms I feel safe and secure.

  After only seconds of holding each other he pulls me back and looks in my eyes. With a proud smile, he says, “You did great today. I’m proud of you.”

  A half smile is all I can manage. I don’t understand how he is proud of me for the way I was today. I couldn’t protect us. We’ve spent the last six months preparing for this and I couldn’t do it. He may be proud of me, but I’m not.

  “Alright! I’m ready to go!” Ty calls out happily.

  Standing on the bed, a wide grin is painted on his face. One of the pant legs of his faded blue jeans is tucked into the top of his brown boot. Like his dad, he’s wearing a black shirt underneath his camouflage coat. Water rushes through the clear tube attached to the brown mouthpiece that he’s slurping on. He stares across the room at me with his dad’s blue eyes - looking just like him.

  Lifting his backpack and the weapons bag off the ground, Travis smiles back at Ty and replies, “Yeah you are, little man. Let’s move out.”

  Ty jumps over the bedframe quickly. His boots thump loudly when he lands on the floor beside Travis. Hand in hand, they walk out the doorway together and disappear down the dark hallway.

  Before following them out, I scan the room once more. The black blood on the floor has already completely dried up. The dark stain left behind could be mistaken for a small oil spill.

  Stepping into the hall, I see the glimmer of something shiny on the floor. Moving closer, I realize it’s my dagger. This must be where it was finally about to rip it out. My hand grips the red handle that has blood crusted around it. I lift it off the stained floorboards and wipe the sharp blade against my jeans; rubbing off the hardened black blood. Once I’ve decided it’s clean enough, I tuck it back into one of the holders on my thigh holster.

  “Isabelle?”

  “Mom?”

  “Coming.” I call back.

  I walk towards the front of the cabin and listen for any screams in the night. At the end of the hall, I find the front door has been pried open. On the patio, Travis and Ty are looking out at the trees that enclose our land. Moonlight slips past them and peeks through the doorframe.

  As I move closer to them, my eyes glance at the tall mirror beside it. My reflection reveals that my once light skin looks crusted with the mixture of alien blood and my own. And even though my clothes are all black, I can still see stains of the creature’s blood dried up on my tight skinny jeans and shirt. My eyes move upward to scan my round face. My long bangs are now blackened and dried up on my cheeks. There are both types of blood smeared across my forehead. I’m a complete mess.

  I flip my head over and gather my long hair into a ponytail. After I throw my head back, I wrap a bun twice with my last black hair tie. Once I’ve finished, my light green eyes shift from the mirror to the open front door where they’re still waiting for me. I can feel the fast thumps of my heart beating against my chest. Hesitantly, I step out the doorway and into the dark night.

  Into the hunting grounds of the Grey Ones.