by Alex Hayes
Idris sighs as he leads us down the forest trail. “And he thinks he’ll learn where the others are.”
A cold shudder brings a quake to my voice. “So we must protect you.”
“I’ll be fine,” Idris says, upping his pace. “But the crystal tree won’t if he gets there first.”
“Then let’s go,” Rowan charges forward without waiting. She rounds the next bend in the trail and disappears behind a thicket of trees.
A startled cry followed by a scream sends the rest of us thundering down the path. We take the turn and stop.
The Evatenon has Rowan in a death grip with a webbed hand cupping her forehead. Her hands pound ineffectually against the creature’s chest as she writhes.
I grab Idris’s arm. “He’s assimilating her!”
Idris stiffens. I sense the sound waves that pulse off him, aimed at the alien. The waves bounce off the creature and back at Idris.
His body wavers as he reabsorbs the energy. “He’s got some kind of forcefield.”
The blue beast lets out a howl.
Rowan twists her head from the creature’s grasp, breaking his mind-sucking connection. The Evatenon shoves at her, but she moves along with him, keeping her hands pressed to his bare chest.
Around her fingers, the creature’s turquoise skin begins to bubble and burn, and the revolting smell of scorched flesh fills the air.
With a panicked convulsion, the Evatenon thrusts Rowan away from him. She flies through the air, headed straight for a massive white pine.
40
Dean
Cadi lifts her hands, and the lizard girl stops in midair, narrowly avoiding being hurled into a tree.
As the blue monster stumbles off down the trail, the girl floats safely to the ground and drops to her knees, gasping.
Idris takes off in pursuit of the creature.
All I want to do is turn around and tear off in the opposite direction, find Ty and Shri, and get the hell out of here.
But I don’t, and I’m not sure I can explain why.
Some residual attachment to Cadi, maybe. Even if she is an alien lizard-person, I guess I still care enough to stick by her.
They run at superhuman speed. What did Cadi say her people were called? Livran? The name has a lizardy, slithery sound that fits their reptilian bodies and their smooth locomotion.
I haul ass after them, but they leave me in the dust.
By the time I reach the cliffside with the cave, where I first ran into Cadi in lizard form, a tug of war is in play.
The blue monster is muscling the elephant-sized rock from the cave entrance with an egotistical arrogance that reminds me, weirdly, of my dad.
Cadi’s standing on the trail below with her hands out in front of her, intent on wrestling the boulder back into place with her mind.
Growling, the monster overturns the rock. Cadi catches the massive boulder, stopping it toppling down the cliffside, but the creature dives through the gap before she can reseal the opening.
Idris takes off for the cliff with Rowan close behind, then stops suddenly and lets out a strange grumbling sound.
What’s that all about?
From the hollow darkness of the cave comes a yip, followed by a screech so loud it might’ve pierced my eardrums.
I slam my hands over my ears.
Before Idris reaches the opening, the alien guy explodes out of the cave like the devil’s on his ass, his face and chest covered with blood. The creature shoves Idris hard in the chest, sending him flying off the cliffside path and down the slope I tumbled over the day before.
The fall hardly fazes him, and Idris is back on his feet, chasing the blue beast, who is currently charging toward Cadi and me.
Cadi shoves me off the path as the monster barrels past us. “Are you okay?” she asks, pulling me back to my feet.
“What the hell just happened?” I shout, trying to shake the pain and ringing from my ears.
Idris catches up with Rowan close behind. “I told the mother black bear that guy was after her cubs. Guess she didn’t mess around.”
Cadi’s eyes fly toward the cave entrance. “Is the crystal tree okay?”
“I’m pretty sure,” Idris answers, brushing grit and dust off his forearms. “That guy didn’t have time enough to do anything but beat a hasty retreat.” He looks up the trail. “Question is, what’s he planning to do next?”
The image of that blue monster reaching the cabin and taking his frustrations out on the Jacobsens, or my brother and Shri fills my heart with dread.
I grab Idris by his lizardy bicep, which is rock solid. “Then we’d better get after that thing, because he’s headed toward the people we care about.”
Without another word, we run.
Trying to keep up with the others is impossible. I take comfort knowing Cadi, Idris and their lizard friend will get there faster and be better equipped to deal with that creature than I could ever be.
But despite the stabbing pain in my chest and my inability to suck in enough oxygen to feed my limbs, I struggle on, because Ty and Shri are in that monster’s path.
By the time I break from the trees, the blue beast’s up on the back porch, messing with a device on his belt.
His abandoned weapon chirps like it did right after Cadi hurled it into the weeds. He must have set some kind of booby trap that Idris triggered when he tried to fire it.
The alien picks up his gun and turns toward the three lizardy Livran running up the hill. The weapon whirls.
Idris grabs Cadi’s arms and hauls her behind the storage shed. The gun sends out this web of blue lightning that strikes the building and blows it to pieces. Idris and Cadi throw themselves to the ground before the force hits them, but the lizard girl, Rowan, goes flying backward and lands in a sprawl on the grass.
The blue monster is moving again, with the over-confident swagger of a first-class asshole, heading closer and closer to the barn where Ty and Shri are hiding.
I book up the hillside. No idea what I’ll do when I get to the top, but I’ve got to do something.
Cadi and Idris are on their feet, trailing the creature. I cut across the lawn at full speed, up the steps to the back porch and into the house. The Jacobsens are posted at the side door, weapons in hand, watching the monster’s approach.
I run down the hall. “Give me one of those!”
Mrs. Jacobsen pushes the black pistol into my hands. I grip it and charge out the door.
The alien is waving his super weapon at Cadi and Idris. He blasts at them, but the gun’s staticky electric web of blue light hits some kind of barrier and doesn’t reach them.
The creature growls, turns and directs his weapon at me.
Holy crap! I take aim and fire the handgun. The deafening crack and kickback from the gun startle me, but I tighten my grip and fire again, and again.
The first shot missed. The second hits the monster’s broad chest. The creature jolts under the impact, but I see minimal evidence of damage.
The blue monster aims his silvery weapon at me, and I know I’m dead.
I fire, again, this time at his weapon. The bullet ricochets off its glossy surface and hits a log beam on the barn roof. My eyes dart toward the building, fear for Ty and Shri escalating my already racing heart.
My attention jumps back to the creature who stares at my face. His strange four-eyed glare seems to assess me, looking for weakness, like he’s trying to read my mind. Read my fear.
I swallow.
A low rumble emits from his chest, then he turns and directs his weapon at the barn.
Horror chokes me, and for a moment, I see my dad turning on Ty, fists clenched, ready to smash my little brother like he smashed Ty’s guitar.
My eyes zero in on my target. A small dip in the creature’s neck, visible now his back is turned to me. I’d have to be a trained marksman to hit that spot with a bullet.
The whirl of his weapon kicks off. I toss aside the handgun and pull the baseball from my swe
atshirt pocket. Shifting position, I take aim.
Energy discharges from the weapon before I get the ball airborne. Lightning bolts of blue slam into the face of the barn, obliterating it, the force of the explosion sending me staggering.
Ty and Shri are inside there.
Fear slams a crushing weight into my chest. A cold sweat breaks out across my forehead. I swipe my brow and swallow.
My focus sharpens on the back of that blue bastard. I recover my balance and reset my stance.
Jaw locked, I narrow my eyes on my target.
My father’s balding head fills my mind, and I want to smack him so hard his skull cracks in two. I adjust the baseball, grip loose, settle my weight, pull back my throwing arm, and snap a fastball.
The baseball splits the air and slams into its target, smashing the knob at the top of the creature’s spinal column. He stiffens, then his knees buckle, and like a massive pine cut through the base, the muscly blue alien topples forward and faceplants into the asphalt.
Idris dashes across the driveway, grabs the alien’s fallen weapon and activates it. He pauses, watching the monster, prepared to shoot at the slightest movement, then notices a small device lying on the tarmac nearby. He squats and picks the object up.
One of the behemoth’s right arms twitches. Idris triggers the weapon, no hesitation. The wiggles of light strike the creature’s body and reduce it to a pile of dust.
I blink, mouth hung open, hardly able to register our victory because my eyes have moved to the collapsed barn and then to Cadi as she runs toward us. “You said Ty and Shri were in there!”
She gulps. The building lays shattered in a thousand pieces. God, just like Ty’s guitar.
Her eyes widen. “I-I can lift the debris, so you can look for them.”
My voice pinches in my throat. “Carefully.”
Cadi nods and casts out her hands. Before us, the pieces of broken barn lift into the air.
As soon as the splintered wood is high enough to stoop under, I head in.
Idris follows.
We scan the barn floor. Nothing.
I search around an old wood chipper, check under the workbench. “They must not be in here.” Hope against hope.
Idris turns. “What was that?”
“What?” I demand, eyes narrowing and heart clenching.
Then I hear it too. A muffled bark.
“Pepper?” I swing around, trying to identify his location. “Pepper!”
“The root cellar!” Cadi shouts from the driveway as she strains to keep the barn pieces suspended above us. “Hurry up. I’m not sure how long I can keep this afloat.”
A pale gray bulkhead door lies near the back of the barn, dented in. I pull one of the handles, but the frame is bent and the doors twisted. “We’ll never get this open!”
Idris leans in, grabs a handle and pulls. The handhold squeals, bends in his grasp and snaps off.
I roll my eyes, fists shaking with frustration. “Jesus! Pepper? Ty… Shri… are you guys in there?” I yell.
More barking.
“Idris! Hurry!” Cadi shouts.
Back on the job, Idris curls his fingers around a warped edge of the door and pulls, peeling the sheet metal away from the door frame.
Impressive.
A hinge snaps, then another, and he lifts one side of the door away.
I’m down the steps in a heartbeat. “Ty? Shri!”
The passage beyond the doorway is dark. Pepper appears and jumps up at me. I rub his neck, then push him aside.
“Dean?” Ty’s voice drifts out of the dark, strained. The barn collapse must have terrified him.
“Ty! Where are you?”
“In the root cellar. Hurry! Shri’s hurt. I can’t wake her.”
A frozen lump forms in my chest as I dart toward his voice. Through the half open door, I see a glow from his phone light. Ty kneels on the floor with Shri’s head cradled in his lap.
I slide onto the ground beside them. “What happened?”
“When the monster guy came back, Shri said to get in the root cellar, but we couldn’t get the door open. She had to work the catch. We got inside, but before she closed the door, there was an explosion.” Ty’s voice cracks. He swallows. “The door slammed shut and hit her. I-I tried to get her to wake up… th-then I dragged her in here ‘cause it seemed safer.”
Idris appears at the door. “We need to get out of here.”
“Shri’s hurt.” I snag her wrist and locate a pulse. Thank god for that much.
Idris squats beside me. “Clear the way. I’ll carry her.”
Anger explodes in my chest. “No! I’ve got this!”
He steps back. “Fine, just get on with it, man. We gotta get outta here.”
“Help Ty,” I say as I lift Shri.
Ty and Idris lead the way, followed by Pepper. We clear the floating debris, and I head for the cabin. “Someone get the door.”
Ty runs ahead to open it.
Behind us, Cadi lets out a relieved sigh as she lowers the crushed barn to the ground.
Mrs. Jacobsen steps aside as I carry Shri down the passage toward the living room. “What happened?” she asks, following us.
“She got hit on the head,” Ty answers.
I lay Shri on the couch and pick up her hand. Her pulse seems strong.
Mrs. Jacobsen comes to my side. “Try this.” She holds out a bottle.
“What is it?”
“Smelling salts. Just a little wave under her nose.”
The salts don’t work. No reaction from Shri at all.
God, she has to be okay.
Cadi arrives and exchanges glances with Idris, who stands at the back of the couch. Both are human again.
Idris leans over to examine Shri’s face. “I wonder if I could reach her.”
“What do you mean?” Cadi asks.
He frowns, thoughtfully. “Reach into her memories and wake her up.”
Cadi’s fingers curl over a couch cushion. “You can pick up memories, but that doesn’t mean you can stroll into her mind and talk her into waking up. How would you reach her?”
“Through her last memory, maybe.” He looks uncertain.
Cadi stiffens. “Do you know how close you came to getting dragged under with Mr. Scrim?”
Idris crosses his arms. “Yes, actually.”
She bites her lip. “Then you know the risk.”
Idris sighs and his eyes drop back to Shri’s still features. “She isn’t dying like Mr. Scrim was.”
Christ. She better not be.
Cadi leans closer. “As far as we know.”
I stiffen, all patience as far gone as a bolted colt. Shri needs help, and if they won’t act, then she needs a doctor. “Would you two stop arguing and do something.”
Cadi tenses. “Okay, fine.” Her eyes meet Idris’s. “Go ahead and try.”
Suddenly, he smiles. “You’ll pull me out. I have complete faith in you.”
Her eyes grow teary as she nods. “I’ll come after you if I have to.”
Idris sweeps a palm across her cheek, kisses her forehead and circles the couch. Then he snags Shri’s hands and closes his eyes.
Ty shifts to my side. The worry on his face makes my chest heave. I wrap an arm around his narrow shoulders and hug him tight.
41
Idris
I know Cadi’s concerned about me, but I also know how worried she is for Shri. So I take a deep breath and dive in.
What I find is not what I expect. Not even close.
I’m standing in the doorway of a sunlit kitchen. The black appliances and dark cabinets look new, but the style seems outdated by a decade or two, like this memory’s from a while back.
A straight-haired dark-skinned woman leans over a cutting board at the counter. Her tan shirt’s sleeves are rolled high over thin arms, and a dark-colored skirt drops to mid-calf over bright-white nurse-style shoes.
Wielding a heavy chef’s knife, the woman chops onions into tiny
squares like a pro. She turns from her task to a cooktop and stirs whatever’s in a waiting pan. The smell of oil and toasted spices permeate the air. She adds the onions, which sizzle and spit.
My eyes scan the room and come to rest on a kid sitting at a butcher block table, legs swinging. She’s young. Five or six. Black hair pulled into two twisted braids. She’s dressed in a school uniform. A white blouse and blue skirt over thick stockings.
The girl hums as she draws with a thick marker. After a couple of color switches, she casts her last pen aside and slides off the chair. She reaches for the picture she’s been working on and runs to the woman’s side, arms flapping, excited to show off her masterpiece.
I cringe, because I see the accident about to happen.
A small arm swings through the air and catches the frying pan handle. The pan flips and smacks the tile floor. The woman and the girl cry out at the same time, and for a split second, they both freeze.
The moment passes. The woman drops to her knees and starts scooping the hot food with her bare hands back into the pan.
“Mommy! Mommy!” The girl’s eyes are wide. She starts to cry as the woman frantically cleans up the spilled food.
The mother seems oblivious to the bawling kid. Instead, she’s focused on her hands, now red and glossed over with the sheen of hot oil.
A flash of white light and the memory resets. We’re back at the beginning with the woman standing by the counter, chopping onions.
As the scene plays out, I notice Shri, her back pressed to the kitchen wall, watching the action unfold, from chopping knife to waving arms, through the flip of the pan and frantic clean-up.
Part way into the next loop, I step into the kitchen, closer to the action. I feel like a movie director walking on set while the camera rolls. The mother starts scooping, and I squat low, to get a better look at her face.
She’s not angry or shocked, like I expect. Her expression is intent, focused, almost relieved. Then I notice her bare arms, shifting from the floor to the pan and back. Thin white scars web her forearms.
Interesting.
A flash. The memory resets and I’m back at the kitchen door.
