Zoey scrunched her nose at the stink. “What’s done is done. We’re already plastered all over the internet, and they already talked to the police by the sound of it. We better go.”
“I should have cloaked. I shouldn’t have taken the chance.”
“No, Ren. This one’s on me. I should’ve guessed people would know about it, after that scene back in Vail.” She released her hold on him and rubbed her hand over her face. “God, my life is officially over. They recognized me the moment I stepped into that restroom.”
“We aren’t dead yet, Zoey.” Ren crouched briefly to gather the fallen goods and walked toward the car in long, easy strides; she had to jog to keep up with him.
They climbed into the SUV and deposited Ren’s bounty into the plastic bag in the central console. Ren placed his hand on the dash and started the engine. Zoey felt like a child; her feet could barely reach the pedals, and she had to extend her arms fully to touch the wheel. After hurriedly adjusting the seat, steering wheel, and mirrors, she shifted into reverse, looking down at the instrument panel before backing out.
“How are we at three quarters of a tank?” she asked.
“I stopped for fuel while you were sleeping.”
She frowned as she guided the car toward the interstate. “Was that one of those disturbances?”
“No. That was rather quiet.”
The next sign declared they were approaching Kansas City. Zoey glanced at the rearview mirror every few seconds, expecting to see flashing lights behind them, or a helicopter hovering just over the road with a glaring searchlight. Her heart pounded the entire way. Despite sleeping for eight hours, she’d likely be well on her way to exhaustion before the sun came up.
They weren’t dead yet, but there certainly was no future for her after this.
Zoey stopped in Kansas City. Though it was still mostly dark, the first hints of dawn had touched the eastern sky with a gentle glow. Ren slunk off, using the lingering shadows to procure another vehicle, leaving Zoey to wait alone. She constantly checked her surroundings, scared out of her wits. If the cops found her while Ren was gone…
At the first opportunity, she’d have to do something to ensure she wasn’t so easily recognizable.
“Most people get to enjoy their fifteen minutes of fame,” she muttered, holding her hands up to the heater.
She nearly pissed herself when a big, white SUV pulled up beside her, fully expecting to see POLICE printed on the side in large, bold letters. When Ren walked around the front and waved at her, she collapsed back in her seat and let out the biggest sigh of relief in her life.
Ren killed the engine in the black SUV and grabbed the bag of drinks and snacks as Zoey climbed into the driver’s seat of her new stolen vehicle. He joined her a few moments later, sliding the passenger seat back while she moved the driver’s seat forward.
“While I was looking for a suitable vehicle, I saw someone use a machine,” Ren said after they were back on the road. She glanced at him as he reached into an inside pocket of his coat and withdrew a wad of cash. “Apparently, it gives money.”
Zoey’s eyes widened. “Did you just rob an ATM?”
“Isn’t that money free to take?”
“No, not even a little bit. It belongs to other people, and to the bank… Didn’t I explain how money was earned?” She let out a long sigh that became a chuckle. “What does it matter? We’ve broken so many laws already. This is our third stolen car.”
“We are surviving,” he said.
“I know, Ren.” She looked at the money again. There was a lot. “Did you…happen to notice a camera?”
“I was cloaked. If there was surveillance, it likely couldn’t detect me.”
“Okay, good. We do need to be more careful going forward.”
They found a baseball hat and a pair of big sunglasses inside the SUV, and Zoey put them on when the sun came up, tucking her hair under the cap. Ren placed a hand on her thigh, absently brushing his thumb over the fabric of her pants. That simple touch kept her grounded.
They left Kansas City, continuing east. Ren kept her posted on the relative direction of his ship as the miles rolled by. Though it was probably more dangerous, she kept to the major roadways. It would be too difficult to navigate the smaller highways crisscrossing the country without a map.
As they passed through Missouri, Zoey noted at least three groups of black SUVs driving in the opposite direction. She told herself it was nothing more than a coincidence, or her imagination playing tricks on her, but she knew better by now, didn’t she? She was in a stolen car with an alien, and the government was hunting him. This wasn’t a conspiracy theory or paranoia. It was fact.
She held her calm. Their progress slowed as they passed through St. Louis, but her inner tourist was allowed to thrive for a few minutes — as they crossed the Mississippi River, she happened to glance out the passenger window and caught a glimpse of the St. Louis Arch.
It was a silly thing to get excited over, but it was normal, and a little bit of normal went a long way these days.
They continued through Illinois, Indiana, and into Ohio, stopping only for food, gas, and restroom breaks — bundling all three together as often as possible.
The sun had long since set by the time they passed through Columbus, and Zoey decided it was time for them to stop for the night. Ren insisted he could take over, but she refused, countering his insistence with her own — he needed to sleep, also.
She made a quick stop at a department store for a few necessities, leaving a grumpy Ren in the SUV to wait. If anyone recognized her, they made no indication; hopefully the cap and sunglasses had made enough difference, though she felt like a jerk wearing sunglasses after dark inside a store.
Finding a place to stay was a little more difficult. Without ID or credit cards, they were stuck with only the seediest motels. Lacking a phone to search for those places didn’t help. They drove around for another hour before she finally spotted a place with a sign that looked like it hadn’t been updated or repaired since the 60’s.
The man at the desk didn’t ask any questions. He took her cash — twenty-five bucks for the night — and handed her a key.
Zoey hesitated after pulling into a parking spot close to their room, afraid of what she’d find inside. Her fears were realized when they entered — there were stains on the ceiling, the carpet, and the peeling wallpaper. There was one bed, covered with a scratchy-looking brown blanket pocked with cigarette burns. The smell — mildew and stale puke — was thankfully faint.
She reluctantly placed the shopping bags on the bed as Ren closed the door.
Ren walked to the bed and picked up the bags. “I think we should sleep in our vehicle.”
“We’ll be fine,” Zoey replied. She checked through the bags, found the one she wanted, and slipped it out of his hold. “I’ve slept in worse places.”
Not that I liked it.
“So have I,” he said, “but I’d rather you not sleep here.”
Zoey smiled, rose on her tip-toes, and pulled him down into a kiss. When she broke the contact between their lips, she rested her forehead against his. “We’ll be fine. We both need some sleep.”
He frowned but offered no further argument.
“Just try to relax for a little bit. I’ve got something to do, and it might take a little while,” Zoey said.
“What do you have to do? I can’t let you go out on your own.”
She walked toward the bathroom, glancing at him over her shoulder. “I’ll be right in here. Eat. I grabbed some more sandwiches while I was in the store. And a Twix.”
“Why won’t you tell me what you’re going to do in there, Zoey?”
“You’ll see when I’m done.”
Zoey closed and locked the door before he could say anything else. The bathroom lived up to the promise made by the rest of the room, with exposed, rusted pipes, chipped porcelain, and broken tiles, but it was surprisingly clean.
She set the bag
on the edge of the sink and removed the small boxes and pair of scissors from within. Watching herself in the mirror, she removed the baseball cap and set it aside, letting her hair fall around her shoulders. She picked up the scissors in one hand and lifted a thick hank of hair in the other.
Tears blurred her eyes. She’d always loved her hair — it was one of the only things she’d been happy with when it came to her appearance. But it was just hair. It would grow back in time.
So why am I crying over it?
Because this is me.
No, that wasn’t it. There was a deeper truth, and all she needed to do was admit it to herself.
It’s because when Ren is gone I’ll have nothing and no one.
“I can do this,” Zoey whispered. She took a deep breath and made her first snip. The flow of tears began as the lock of hair fell to the floor.
Ren sighed and turned away from the bathroom door. He trusted her, but her refusal to answer him was troubling.
He swept his gaze over the rest of the room. He’d endured objectively worse accommodations many times during his life, but he wanted better for Zoey. She deserved better. That their circumstances — circumstances caused by Ren — had brought them to this was regrettable. But they were together, and they were safe. That meant something.
That meant everything.
He switched on the TV to pass the time. He’d learned that all remote controls had similar functions for their buttons, even though their layouts varied; unfortunately, all but three channels displayed only a snowy picture.
He left it on the news. Though much of what the man and woman on the screen spoke about was meaningless to him, one thing carried through — violence. Most of their stories seemed to touch upon it in some way. If not a violent event, it was the threat of one. Even having been raised in the Khorzar, bred and conditioned for war, Ren was surprised at the prevalence of such savagery among the humans.
Warriors were supposed to battle to protect civilians from acts like this. To provide their people peace.
Though their society was not free of crime, the aligarii and the other species who lived with them enjoyed safe, happy lives, without the fear of being harmed by one another.
Did the humans need guidance? Their technology, though primitive, had the potential to grow and eventually bring their species beyond the bounds of their home planet. Would they join the intergalactic community as friends and allies, or as would-be conquerors? Should they be considered a future threat or an opportunity to enrich intergalactic society?
Was Zoey an exception to their seemingly cruel, violent nature, or was she the truth of who the humans were as a people? The truth of who they could be?
His thoughts were broken when the TV displayed an oddly familiar scene in a still image — a snowy parking lot, a red truck, and an enforcer aiming his weapon at a large individual in a long coat and a hood.
“New information on the viral video that’s taken the world by storm over the last twenty-four hours,” the woman’s voice said.
Ren watched as the enforcer fired his weapon, watched the shield flash as it absorbed the projectiles, watched the camera shake as the figure on the screen charged the enforcer. Ren hadn’t hidden his arms or his eyes. He’d been too angry to care.
“Though many are calling the footage an expertly executed hoax, it seems the woman in the footage, who has been identified as Zoey Weston of Santa Barbara, California, is currently on the FBI’s Most Wanted List.”
The moving image froze and zoomed in, offering a grainy view of Zoey’s face, and then split to display a clear image of her beside it. Most of her body was blocked by the enforcer and Rendash due to the angle of the recording. Despite the poor quality of the image, Ren recognized the fear on her face.
“We go now to an excerpt of the press conference held this evening in Vail, Colorado.”
The screen changed to a man standing in front of a crowd, leaning over a podium and speaking. Several uniformed enforcers stood behind and around him. “Though we cannot currently share the details,” the man said, “Zoey Weston is wanted for the murder of Matthew Johnson in Utah last week. We consider Weston and her unidentified companion armed and extremely dangerous. Any information on their whereabouts should be reported directly to your local law enforcement. We have reason to believe they are moving eastbound through the Midwestern states.”
The crowd began speaking all at once, their voices too jumbled to make out, until the man at the podium acknowledged one of the audience members.
“Can you comment on the alien that was clearly displayed in the footage?” came the muted question.
“We have no comment on the authenticity of that footage at this time. The events surrounding this traffic stop are currently under investigation, and the police officer involved is recovering from his injuries. What is important is that Zoey Weston and her companion are dangerous, and they need to be caught so they can face justice for their crimes — before they do any more damage.”
The screen returned to the male and female who were presenting the news, both sitting at a wide desk. In the corner, a small image depicted Ren in the moment of his attack on the enforcer.
“The FBI says that they have information stating Weston and her companion may have been spotted outside of Kansas City early this morning,” the male said. A picture of Zoey with Ren behind her, arms full of vending machine food and drink, appeared on screen. The restrooms they’d stopped at that morning were in the background.
“If you see Zoey Weston or her companion, authorities say you should not approach them under any circumstances,” the female said. “Here are some local numbers for us around the Columbus area to call, if they happen to come through this way.”
A series of symbols and numbers appeared on the screen, many of which were meaningless to Ren, but he understood the implication: Zoey’s people were now against her.
The picture returned to the two humans at their desk. “What a wild story,” the male said.
“Absolutely,” the female replied. “And that video is amazing. Very well done. Always interesting when something on the internet turns out to have such significance. This may be the key in bringing a murderer to justice.”
“Well, I don’t—”
Ren turned off the TV. He stared at the black screen for a while before pulling himself out of his daze; it wouldn’t do them any good to dwell on what had happened or to wish things had gone differently. This was their situation, and they would face it head-on.
He took one of the sandwiches out of the bag, paired it with a drink in a red can, and ate in silence. The sandwich was good. The drink, on the other hand, was overly sweet, and he cringed involuntarily after the first sip. He set it aside for Zoey and drank from one of the water bottles instead. It was a strange meal for him; eating had always been a matter of filling his body with as much fuel as possible in a short time to counteract the additional energy burned through use of his nyros.
This time, he made his food last, taking his time to enjoy the flavors and textures.
When the sandwich was gone, he took out the Twix she’d obtained at their last stop and placed it, unopened, on the bed. He found he enjoyed it more when he shared; Zoey’s pleasure, no matter how small, immensely enhanced his own. He’d wait until she was ready and eat it with her.
The shower came on in the bathroom shortly after, preceded by a brief bout of squeaking — likely from Zoey turning the control knobs. Ren listened to the running water and forced his mind away from gloomy thoughts of how everything could all go wrong.
Eventually, the shower turned off, and Zoey emerged a little later, clad only in a towel. The cloth wasn’t large enough to cover her completely, and the sides spread from where she held them together at her breasts, revealing her middle and the entirety of one pale, curvy leg.
Despite that enticing display, it wasn’t her body that caught his attention.
Ren pushed himself to his feet, eyes wide. “What happened
to your hair?”
She raised a hand and touch the short, damp, reddish-gold locks. Before she’d entered the bathroom, her dark hair had cascaded to a point midway down her back. He’d loved to see it draped over her shoulders and chest, to run his fingers through it.
Now her hair was many shades lighter, with that reddish tint, and barely hung past her jaw. Some of it was swept over her forehead, shorter than the rest, to brush her eyelashes.
“Does it look bad?” she asked with a timidity in her voice he’d never heard before.
He closed the distance between them. The scent of unknown chemicals wafted from the bathroom, and he picked up some of it from her. He reached forward and took a lock of her hair between his fingers. Even its texture had changed; the difference was subtle, but he noticed it.
“What did you do?” he asked softly.
“I changed it so people won’t recognize me.” She looked up to meet his gaze. The evidence of already shed tears was apparent in her reddened eyes and the lightly swollen flesh around them.
His chest felt suddenly hollow, and then seemed to collapse in on itself like a star imploding to leave a black hole behind. This was his fault. She’d had to change because of him, because of his interference in her life. Because he hadn’t exercised more caution.
But it was more than just her hair; it had been so much more since the beginning. This was simply a visual, physical representation of all she’d given up for him so far. Zoey hadn’t considered her life good, but it had been hers. She would’ve figured it out, would’ve found her way. He’d taken everything from her.
And even if it weren’t too late to change course, Ren couldn’t bring himself to let her go.
She’d worked her way into him, into his life, into his mind, into his deepest desires. She was as much a part of him as his arms and legs, his eyes, his heart, his nyros. She was his. Losing her…
He should’ve been prepared for it. Should’ve accepted the possibility days ago. Losing the people he was close to had been a constant threat throughout his life, and he’d always taken that risk as an unavoidable truth. There’d never been reason to rail against it, never been a reason to reject it, but even the slightest thought of losing Zoey was heavy enough to crush him.
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