by Sean Platt
A tickling sensation ran through her entire body.
Her eyes flicked open to darkness save for a blue sphere, roughly the size of a basketball, hovering just inches over her body.
What the hell is this?!
She squirmed.
Mary moved, and the ball of light loosened, like pieces of a tire coming off in every direction. They glowed blue, and after a momentary separation, pulled themselves back into the ball.
“I’d suggest you keep still,” a voice said behind her. “We are repairing your wounds.”
The voice was instantly recognizable, and boiled her blood.
Desmond!
She struggled to turn her head around, but it was impossible, strapped down as she was, to get a look directly behind her.
“Let me go, you fucker!”
“Now, now,” Desmond said, his voice calm like a lover’s, “save the sexy talk for later. You need to relax, Mary.”
Suddenly, his hands cupped either side of her head, as if he were going to give her a scalp massage, though Mary was certain he held nothing loving in his intentions.
“Don’t touch me!” she said, surprised as her voice cracked at the end.
She squirmed again and felt the ball of light buzz louder, disassemble, then reassert its form.
His hands went from a gentle caress to a vice-like grip, so tight she was certain he was about to squeeze her skull just to see it pop like a melon. Or at least let her know he could.
Desmond leaned in close, though she still couldn’t see him, and whispered, “I said, keep still.”
Panic seized her entire body.
She’d been waiting for this moment so long, a chance to be in a room with him, to make him pay for Paola’s death. She’d dreamed of the many ways she could end him, from a simple bullet in his skull to the more … creative methods. Tie him up and peel his skin bit by bit. Set him afire. Chop off his limbs one by one. She’d imagined so many details, like an athlete practicing for her biggest game.
But she’d never imagined this: him having her on a table, at his will, naked no less, unable to do anything. She’d never felt more helpless, save for the moment she cradled her dead daughter, watching the life leave her body.
Mary wanted to explode and take them both out in a fiery, violent death. Take out the whole fucking spaceship, too.
“Let me — ”
He squeezed her head tighter. Mary cried out.
“Silent,” he said smoothly, “and remain still until you’re fixed.”
She did as instructed. Desmond relaxed his grip enough that he was no longer hurting her, but it was still tight enough to keep her in line.
After what felt like forever, the ball of light zipped away, out of the room through a sliding door to her right.
“There, there, all better,” Desmond said, letting go of her head but still standing out of sight.
“I’m going to kill you.” Though Mary was about as far from being able to execute her threat as one could possibly be, she meant it with her every molecule. And she believed it. She’d find a way to break free and deliver on her promise — even if it was the last thing she’d do.
Desmond laughed.
“Kill me? But why? I thought you loved me.”
“You’re not Desmond.”
More laughter.
She heard his footsteps recede behind her, echoing off the walls.
“Oh, but Desmond is still in here with us.”
“No, he’s dead. Just like Paola.”
“Yeah, that was a bit unfortunate, Mary. And for that, I’m truly sorry. If you remember, though, I gave you all a choice. I gave you a chance to live with us, to be part of something new, something big, something bold! But you and your little group of roaches thought you knew better.”
“You are a fucking cancer! We will defeat you!”
“Mary, why are you so determined to avoid your destiny? This is the way forward. We don’t have to be enemies. We can coexist.”
“Liar! You do no coexist. You are nothing but parasites, killing everything you touch.”
“No, that is the lie, dear Mary. That is the lie you people tell yourselves as you hold onto a crumbling past. As you run from a future you don’t understand.”
“Don’t understand? We watched you wipe out most of a planet’s population. Not once, but twice!”
“You are correct when it came to what happened on the other world, but we’ve since learned of our errors. We’ve learned of our true destiny.”
“You’ve killed almost everyone on this planet, too!”
“No, we reduced the number to an ideal sum for all concerned. Going forward, our kinds will be intermingled in a way that will benefit both. An end to sickness, an end to war, an end to death, Mary. Don’t you want to live in a world where we never die? Where Paola would never have died?”
“Don’t you speak her name.”
“Let me ask you something, Mary. You see us as parasites, bent on destroying your world, killing your people. But tell me, why aren’t you this afraid of Luca?”
Mary said nothing.
“He is the same species as us.”
“No, he’s not. Where you kill, he sacrifices, gives of himself to save others.”
“No, your precious so-called Light sacrifices Luca’s body, but it isn’t doing so out of the goodness of its heart. It is doing what we are doing. It is attempting to survive by any means necessary.”
“No, you’re wrong.”
“No, Mary. It’s you who are wrong. You accuse us of being parasites, yet we are no different than the alien in Luca. You see that Luca still has free will, yes? He is still acting of his own accord, right? Well, so are the others, Mary. We have hundreds of people coexisting with aliens just fine. And they get along fine with our free humans. Yes, Mary, we even let some people live free on The Island. Does that sound so horrible to you? Like we’re the bad guys?”
“You lie.” Mary continued the conversation not to argue but to buy time, to try and figure out Desmond’s endgame, to see what he wanted from her. If she could find his lever, she could use it to get free. And if she could get free, she could finally take him out.
“Desmond is still here inside this body, Mary. It’s true, ask him yourself.”
Mary heard the sound of footsteps approaching.
Her heart raced. She wasn’t sure how she’d respond when she finally saw Desmond face to face. Finally looked in the eyes of the man who was responsible for Paola’s death.
His footsteps drew nearer.
It took every bit of her self-control to stay calm, to not pull at the binds holding her down.
He came around, into view.
She swallowed a painful knot in her throat.
“Hi, Mary,” he said, his voice different. He’d gone from smooth and in control to apprehensive, unsure. “It’s true. I’m still in here. The aliens saved me, gave me another chance.”
She shook her head. “No. You’re dead.”
Desmond’s eyes began to well up with tears. His shaky voice went on, “No, Mary, I’m here. And I’m so sorry for what he did to your daughter. He didn’t mean for her to be shot. And I couldn’t stop it.”
Could he be telling the truth? Could a part of Desmond still be alive in there? This had to be a ruse. A performance to work on her sympathies. He was playing on her love for Desmond to find her lever. Mary refused to believe.
“Shut up!” she said, tears stinging her eyes. “You’re dead.”
“No,” Desmond said. “We’re not dead. We can live again. We can live forever.”
We’re?
She heard footsteps behind her.
Heard someone breathing.
“Yes,” Desmond said. “Death isn’t the end for us. We can all live together, forever.”
The footsteps came closer.
Mary struggled to turn, to see who it was, but couldn’t.
Then the other person spoke.
“We can live forever, Mom.�
��
::EPISODE 34::
(FOURTH EPISODE OF SEASON SIX)
“The Reaping”
Thirty-Four
Boricio Wolfe
Boricio was pretty sure his arms would fall the fuck off if he carried Luca much farther.
Keenan looked over and asked, “You ready to switch yet?”
“I got it,” Boricio said, pretending his arms and back weren’t burning. “Ain’t no thing but a chicken wing.”
“You sure? You look like you’re about to pass out.”
“I said I got it,” Boricio snapped.
Keenan grinned. “Okay, you got it.”
Boricio might not be Mr. Action Hero with hulking biceps like Ed Keenan, but he wasn’t about to hand Luca over fifteen minutes into their trip and look like a pussy. A two-mile walk should take around forty minutes at their pace, carrying Luca. But fuck if fifteen didn’t feel like fifty when you were carrying dead weight.
Lisa, walking with Barrow, Emily, and Jevonne behind them, laughed.
“My hero,” she said sarcastically.
“Go fuck yourself, Lisa,” Boricio said with a wink back at her.
“I could carry him for a bit,” Barrow offered.
“It’s cool,” Boricio said.
Boricio wished Barrow had stepped up and offered in the first place. Dude was a fucking house, and dumb as the dirt it was built on. If anyone should be carrying Luca, it should’ve been the ox. Hell, the fucker could probably carry Luca the whole way without breaking a sweat. Except that the dude constantly sweated, like a politician on trial. Despite his sweatiness, he was good for lifting and brawling. But Barrow had failed to step up, so Boricio had taken the lead. Now Boricio wasn’t about to let everyone think he wasn’t leader of his fucking pack by being a bitch.
Despite his internal whining and groaning muscles, Boricio didn’t mind carrying Luca. He’d never had a family worth a fuck, but in a lot of ways, Luca felt like the kid brother he never had. Opie Cunningham looked like Cocoon, but still, Boricio would do anything for the little man — even carry his scrawny bones through The Catacombs.
As they continued onward, Boricio noticed that Emily wasn’t saying much at all. She’d gone from being an annoying, overly apologetic kid, to giving everyone the silent treatment, walking with a permanent scowl. That made Boricio think that Keenan was right when he said they needed to get her on their side. That meant an apology.
At exactly twenty minutes, which Boricio knew without needing a watch to tell him, he set Luca down and looked up at Keenan. “Okay, Agent Double O’ Keenan, he’s all yours.”
“No, I got it,” Barrow said, scooping Luca into his arms without a hint of effort.
Boricio scowled.
Keenan glanced over at Boricio and winked.
Boricio grinned and nodded. “Motherfucker.”
Keenan laughed.
Boricio slowed to walk beside Emily then asked if he could talk to her.
Lisa looked back and exchanged a glance with Boricio as if she wanted to say “Don’t be mean.” Boricio rolled his eyes. Lisa and Jevonne picked up their pace, walking closer to Keenan, Barrow, and Luca.
Boricio licked his lips, ready for crow.
“You all right?”
“Yeah,” Emily said.
Boricio looked at the bandage covering the neck wound Lisa had created and stitched — nothing compared to the gash Mary had put in the girl’s throat, but Luca had healed that. This one Luca wouldn’t be able to heal given his current condition of being passed the fuck out.
“That hurt?”
“It’ll be okay.”
Her short responses and inability to meet his gaze wouldn’t make this easy. But Boricio was nowhere near surrender. There wasn’t a woman alive who didn’t eventually succumb to the charms of his gentlemanly side, and this moody little tween wasn’t about to be first. He’d find a way to make peace whether she wanted to or not.
“Listen, I wanna apologize for how I acted back there.”
“It’s okay,” Emily said, still looking down. Boricio didn’t think her avoidance of his gaze was a guilt trip so much as her not wanting to invest any more into a relationship that had already been abandoned in her head. Best not to get friendly with the people you plan to fuck over first chance you get.
“No, I was a major dick.”
She laughed. Emily was probably still young enough that she wasn’t used to an adult using such language in front of her. Her laugh reminded him of how Paola responded when he’d say things in her company that made Mary wince, while Paola and Boricio giggled like naughty kids.
“That lady, Mary, the one who did the — ” Boricio stopped talking to make Emily look at him, another way to force a connection, then ran a finger across his throat and stuck out his tongue. Emily smiled. “Anyway, Mary wasn’t always so … ”
He paused, trying to think of the right word.
“Bitchy?” she offered.
Emily’s smile turned uncertain, as if she wasn’t sure if she’d offended Boricio by trashing his friend, or if everything was cool between the naughty kids.
“Yeah, that’s one word.” Boricio laughed.
Emily laughed, too. He could feel her warming up. Could see it in her body language, her smile, and how she was now looking at him again.
“She wasn’t always like that, though. When I met Miss Mary, she was Wonder Woman. A single momma raising a girl about your age. Mary was smart and funny. Creative, too. She used to draw greeting cards, if you can believe it. An’ they didn’t even drop F bombs or have dead people on ‘em. They also made a shit-ton of money without her forced to draw Garfield. You could see how much she loved her daughter. Mary wasn’t one of these parents fucking their kid over because they’re so busy chasing bullshit career goals. She always made time. She was the girl’s momma, and her best friend. Now, I never had that kinda family, so seeing Lorelei and Rory was touching.”
“Lorelei and Rory?”
“Gilmore Girls?”
No recognition in Emily’s eyes.
“Shit, didn’t you watch any TV? Anyway, then that fuck, Desmond, came after us. One of his men shot Mary’s little girl, killed her right there on the spot. And I’m afraid that also killed Mary. She’s not been the same since.”
Emily stared ahead, processing Boricio’s story.
“What was her name?” she finally said.
“Her daughter?”
“Yeah.”
“Paola. She was a great kid. A lot like her mother but different in a lot of ways, too. You two would’ve been peas and carrots. I mean, I think you would’ve; I can’t say for sure since I don’t really know you all that well. But I’m trying to say I hope you don’t hate Mary for what she did.”
“I don’t.”
“I think part of the reason she did it was because you reminded Mary of Paola — well, the fact that Desmond had taken her — so she wanted to take something from the enemy.”
“I understand.”
“As for me, well, I love Mary, and I hate to see her in pain. So you being here, and seeing how it messed with her head even more, well, I got stupid. And, well, I’m sorry.”
“What about the others? Do they hate me?”
“I don’t think so. If they did, believe me, you wouldn’t be with us now. That Keenan guy, and Lisa too, they’re Terminators. If they didn’t want you here, they’d tell you to get lost.”
“So, do you think Mary’s okay? I heard you say you wanted to go look for her.”
“Mary’s a big girl. We’ll get her back, then I’ll sit with both of you, and we’ll have a heart to heart to heart. Trust me, everything will be fine.”
Boricio thought about asking the girl if she missed her father. Maybe ask about her mom, but figured if he made her think too much about her family, she might miss them more and want to get back on The Island.
They walked in silence.
But the quiet was different. Boricio felt that Emily had come around, a
nd was back on their side.
He hoped his intuition was right because once they reached the house, Boricio was heading out to look for Mary, no matter what.
Thirty-Five
Emily Roberts
As the group marched toward their destination, Emily tried to telepathically find her father. While she no longer felt in danger, at least from the group, she couldn’t stop thinking about her dad. She’d been trying to reach him for what felt like hundreds of times. At first, frantically for help, then to explain that she’d been rescued and was safe.
He had to be losing it by now, maybe even thinking her dead. Though the memories were fading, Emily could still remember a time when he thought he was going to lose her to the plague. He’d sit next to her bed, crying, praying to God. Losing his wife — her mother — had nearly killed him. If the plague had taken her, too, he would’ve been lost. He’d told her so many times.
She had to let him know that she was safe.
But at the same time, she knew there was no way he’d understand that she wasn’t in a rush to come home. A part of her wanted to stay here, in The Wastelands.
Though there had been a point where Emily was scheming an exit from her captors, it wasn’t a very practical plan. For one, she knew nothing of The Wastelands, or its many threats. As they toured the area in the shuttle before it crashed, their instructor — God rest his soul — had warned them of both the Ferals roaming The Wastelands and the deadly bandits. He’d not spoken of rebels like Boricio and his group specifically, but rather barbaric men and women who were reduced to animals in their savagery. If they catch you, you’ll wish you were dead.
At the time, she’d wondered if the threat had been propaganda, something her father had taught her about in discussions of the Old Days. Propaganda designed to make the teens untrusting of others, to stay within the safe confines of The Island’s community and never yearn to know what lay beyond — to never search for freedom, as freedom was too scary.
However, she’d seen enough in Luca’s memories to know there were horrible people — and aliens — preying on the weak. So, yeah, Emily could probably escape the group, but she’d have nowhere to go.
