Naomi sighed and looked at David and me. She kept her voice low. “Think we can trust what they’re telling us?”
“Difficult question,” David mused. “Their machines caused injury to some of us when they brought us here. If they were intent on merely studying us, why did they see the need to capture us like animals? Why not study us in our natural habitat, watch us on the streets, interacting, living normal lives? Surely they have some type of cloaking device.”
“I think you’ve seen too many sci-fi films,” Naomi said.
“No, I actually agree with him,” I said. “It just doesn’t add up. Why would they go through all this effort to watch us squabble and socialize? Why blow up buildings when a simple scanner could tell them about our building materials? At the same time…” I paused, chewing my lip thoughtfully. “I don’t think I would have gotten nearly as hurt if I hadn’t struggled.”
David grimaced. “Well, that’s lesson one for our intrepid intruders. Humans fight for survival.” He looked up suddenly, a glimmer appearing in his eyes.
“Maybe this doesn’t take any effort for them. Maybe this is like a weekend romp to their species. Vacation in the Hamptons.” He started pacing the length of the gym.
An image of a Roswell alien in a straw hat waltzed through my mind. “So, do we trust them or not?”
“The real issue is, I don’t think we can afford not to trust them right now,” Naomi said, frowning. “Not while our families are still out there.”
“I think we should just do as they say,” my dad added. “Some of us aren’t in any position to fight even if we wanted to.”
“You guys do realize they’re watching us at this very moment, right?” David said between strides. “Somehow. They’ve gotta have tiny cameras and microphones all over this room; otherwise, what’s the point in observing?”
Naomi shook her head. “And tell me how that matters, David. I’m not asking for your latest theories and relativities. I’m asking if we should trust them.”
He stopped pacing and faced her directly. “Yes. I think we should. We need to learn whatever we can.” He pivoted on his feet and resumed pacing.
Naomi turned to me, sighing. I wasn’t sure what to say. As David paced back and forth, I concentrated on the silkiness of Simon’s fur beneath my fingers. From behind us, Julie and a little Chinese boy were playing with a rubber ball the boy had stowed away in his pocket. We listened to the ka-thump, ka-thump, ka-thump of the bouncing ball.
On David’s next pass, he stopped in front of us again. “If only I could get a hold of some of that alien metal…”
“What do you mean?” Naomi asked.
“I work in a metal processing plant. Well, in the office building of one at least. I might be able to discern something about the material, at least tell if it’s made from a familiar element.”
She groaned. “And how will that help?”
Naomi seemed like such a patient woman. I was surprised to see how quickly she was losing her patience with David. Bruce sensed it too and scooted next to me to hear us better.
“I’m not sure,” David admitted. “I’m just curious. I feel like I can’t just stand around and do nothing.” He continued pacing.
“I know exactly what you mean,” Bruce said.
I turned to him. “What are you talking about, Dad? You can barely stand up, let alone do something.”
“Come on, Sam,” he muttered. “I’m still a man.”
Somehow, I knew a response like that would sneak out of his mouth. “And by that you mean what exactly?” My eyes narrowed in his direction.
“We feel trapped here. Like rodents. Our freedom was taken away. David’s a young man; this doesn’t sit well with him.” Bruce said it matter-of-factly. Like that explained everything. “It affects us men differently.”
“Yeah, because you know, us girls, we don’t care,” I said in a loud, sarcastic voice. “We like being cooped up. It’s totally awesome. We’re just supposed to sit around the house anyway.” I glared at him.
“Sam, please,” my dad muttered, hanging his head in his hands. “It’s just that, you know, you womenfolk are more passive…”
I stood up, ignoring the pain in my shoulder and the fact that the entire room could hear me. Simon tensed within my arms. “Really, Dad? You’re going to go into this now? It’s no different for any of us. We all fucking hate being here, hate being cooped up, and hate being away from people who actually care about us! Gender doesn’t have a goddamn thing to do with it!”
“I-I didn’t mean you liked it here,” Bruce stammered.
I stopped him before he could continue. “Just because my mom let you get away with this shit doesn’t mean I will.”
Naomi put a comforting hand on my shoulder. “We’re all stressed right now. Let’s just take it easy.”
“Oh, sorry for embarrassing everyone!” I shouted, challenging everyone to dare agree with my father. “Golly gee, I better go find a kitchen to sit around in. I know! Let’s ask the aliens for one! We womenfolk can cook for everyone, even the aliens!” I shot one last glowering look at him and stormed off, still clutching Simon tightly to my chest. The cat meowed woefully, probably wondering what the heck was wrong with me.
Bruce didn’t try and say anything else. His jaw shook at me, his face pale with crimson blotches of embarrassment.
Naomi tried to coax me back. “Sam! Come back here!”
I brushed her away, and stormed around the room for a few minutes, unable to really get far from them. They both watched me still. I sighed, loosening my grasp on Simon somewhat. Where’s the fucking fog and night air when I need it? I gave up and slouched down to the ground against a wall, sitting cross-legged among the dust piles.
Simon stared up at me with eyes wide open and twitching ears. “Sorry, baby,” I mumbled, smoothing out the unevenness in his fur caused from my outburst. He remained in my lap and began grooming himself, unsatisfied with my technique.
Nearby, Kisana was reading with her family. They had a couple of photographs in frames near them along with a small pile of books. I was surprised I hadn’t disturbed their reading with my tantrum.
I also realized I was jealous. Why the hell didn’t I grab any books or pictures? I barely had time to worry about Bruce and my cat. Didn’t have time to grab his goddamn medication, let alone books, blankets, or photographs.
I slumped farther down the wall. I wasn’t married, didn’t have a kid, didn’t even want a kid, yet I’d spent the last fifteen years of my life worrying about everyone else.
My mother had gone blind when I was twelve. That was during the years when our living room permanently smelled like sour whiskey and the salt from sunflower seeds—my father’s favorite drinking snack. On the weekends, I used to wake to the TV flashing scrambled lines down the hallway and my father snoring in a puddle of spilled booze. His pants off, the TV muted. He had been too cheap to pay extra for Playboy, but that didn’t stop him from catching glimpses of bare breasts between grey lines.
My mother’s deteriorating vision had done nothing to slow his alcoholism, and during a time when she needed his support the most, he’d pushed her away with the shake of a drinking glass. He had still expected her to cook, clean, do the laundry, and hang it outside along the rickety clothesline. All while learning how to live without sight. He’d seized control of the bank accounts and told her we couldn’t afford a dryer.
Sara had done the best she could, through the tears and whiskey. She’d fought clouds of depression, and I think the only reason she had found her way through the smog was because I had stepped up and told her I’d become her eyes. Together, we had managed our finances, and finally bought a dryer. We’d muddled through life, me in my early teens, and Bruce had continued being, well, Bruce. Eventually my mom couldn’t take it anymore and had divorced him. After the divorce, he’d stopped drinking. Go figure.
As her health worsened through the years, she and I had continued muddling, making do. I had cooke
d and cleaned even though I wasn’t very good at either. I’d gone off to college, where she would send me these care packages full of candies and treats she knew I liked, plus little stuffed animals. We’d talk every Friday on the phone for hours. She had started calling me Jellybean.
After I had graduated, I came home to find her in terrible health. Her diabetes was out of control. She’d been diagnosed with a myeloproliferative disorder that required frequent blood transfusions and was showing signs of emphysema. Her overall mobility had plummeted due to the snowball of medical conditions quickly forming an avalanche within her body. The help she had gotten while I was gone was piss-poor, and I had to evict them from her house. It had been too late to stop the avalanche by that time.
As much as I wanted to forget about all the crap Bruce put my mother through, I couldn’t. I was reminded of it every time I looked at my father. It didn’t make it better that he quit drinking after the damage was done. It didn’t make it better that my mother was able to forgive him years later, and they actually had become friends again. I didn’t know what would make it better, but him saying ancient, sexist crap always brought it back like a train roaring through a darkened tunnel.
I finally raised my gaze from Kisana and her family. Across the room, David and Naomi hovered near the newly-coined drink station and the metal hatch in the wall. Naomi lay down the list. The two stepped away from the area, and then waited for the plate to open. David still had that weird, intense expression on his face. The metal plate scraped open, but I didn’t make a move to join them. They can handle it.
The silver arm creeping out from the hatch sent a shudder running through me. I was reminded of the similar, larger arm that had ripped into my back and pulled me away from my world. It was hard to believe that we still hadn’t seen the creatures that controlled these devices. The arm that my eyes were glued to looked more like a creature than an inanimate object as it snaked out and carefully plucked up the piece of paper. Four finger-like appendages gleamed in the lighting above us.
I was watching the mechanical arm so intently, I didn’t notice that David held a walking cane in his hands. Naomi was tending to the elderly woman nearby, her back turned. David was frozen in place as his eyes shone with the same intense glint as the metal he aimed to strike down upon. He held the cane above the arm, raising it upward. Ready to strike.
I gasped and leaped up, dumping Simon to the floor. At that exact moment the cane struck downward onto the arm’s metal tubing.
Chapter 6
“David, no!” My voice rang across the gym uselessly as a sickening thwack sounded. The mechanical arm let loose a whirr, as if something might have broken, and then it recovered in a split second. A large metal-barbed cone opened up around its tubing, and the barbs cut into David’s wrist and arm. Blood splattered. David screamed. Julie screamed. The metal creature quickly recoiled and retreated back into the hole, the metal plate snapping into place.
David collapsed to the floor and Naomi ran to him, screaming. “What the hell did you think that would accomplish? You heard what they said about us respecting them!” She ran to get what few remaining gauze pads she had, and then tried to wrap up his arm.
Julie was sobbing into the arms of the elderly woman, who was keeping her busy on the opposite end of the room.
Simon growled and darted to the other side of the gym. I mouthed the poor cat a silent apology while clenching my jaw and made my way to David and Naomi.
Blood was still gushing out of David. “Dammit, we gotta stop this bleeding,” Naomi muttered. David lay in a pitiful heap, teeth clenched, and eyes avoiding ours. I couldn’t tell if he was angrier with himself for being so stupid or the aliens for counteracting his violence as though he was a mere fly buzzing around annoyingly.
“Seriously, why the hell did you do that?” I asked him, kneeling down to meet his pained expression. “You just told us we should trust them.”
“We should,” he muttered through gritted teeth, “but that doesn’t mean we don’t take chances. Life’s too short to stop taking chances.”
Naomi glared at him as she held the gauze in place, attempting to staunch the bleeding. “Take chances?” she said. “How on Earth does pissing them off equate to taking chances?”
“I needed to see how resilient their devices are,” he said, gripping Naomi’s arm with his free hand. “If there’s any chance we could—”
“We could, what?” Naomi said, cutting him off. “We could smash the aliens into bits using our mighty sticks, blankets, and water jugs? We trusted you, David.”
“Pull yourself together,” I said, my voice almost a whisper. I didn’t want his daughter to hear our conversation. She needed his strength.
David finally looked up and met Naomi’s disappointed gaze. The gleam in his eyes flickered out as reality set in. “I’m sorry. I had to know what we’re up against.” He grabbed a paper towel and tried to wipe the blood from his face. “Now, I know.”
David inhaled deeply, attempting to gather his senses. “If this changes anything about the way we’re being treated, I hold myself fully responsible.” He looked around the room, meeting the stares from various onlookers. “Julie, come here, pumpkin.”
The elderly woman with gray, bushy hair who was holding Julie gave him a wary glance. “It’s okay, Marge, the bleeding is under control,” David said to her. She let Julie go, and the little girl ran into David’s arms.
I stood up, and sat on the bench near my father. I had almost forgot how pissed off I was at Bruce. He tossed me a pitiful look, reminding me. What I’d give for a second room in this joint. An outside balcony, something.
As Naomi tossed me an unsure look, the intercom crackled to life again. We collectively held our breaths.
“You have dis-ap-poin-ted us,” it rang out. The voice had a very superior tone to it. It thinks itself better than us. Rather, they think themselves better than us. “But as you can see, we have tak-en pre-caut-ions for such be-hav-ior.”
“Can you really blame us for fighting back?” I said, surprising myself by the strong tone of my voice. I was disappointed with David, sure, but I still understand where he was coming from. We did need to know the extent of their abilities.
“Surely you’ve studied our emotions,” I continued. “We enjoy an independent lifestyle. You’re treating us like livestock.”
“Per-haps.” There was a pause in the voice. The intercom rustled with static. Are they quietly discussing what I said or planning to do away with us?
“We will give you your sup-plies,” the voice finally answered. “This way you will have no reas-on to fight us. We have prom-ised your free-dom. Please stay here un-til then.”
“Not that we have a choice,” Bruce muttered.
The voice ignored him. “Are the male’s wounds min-or?”
I assumed it meant David’s. David shook his head and showed me where the blood was seeping through the gauze. “He needs…a couple stitches, I think,” I guessed. “None of us are doctors here.”
“One sec-ond. Please place his arm by the plate when we op-en it.”
“What?” David’s eyes widened. “What are you going to do to it?”
“We will fuse the skin to-geth-er. It will heal fast-er than thread stitch-es.”
David shot me a nervous glance.
“Trust us,” the voice said. The intercom crackled and shut off. A moment later, the plate scraped open. The mechanical arm poked out of its hole. One of its appendages resembling a finger unsheathed itself, revealing a blue laser-like device.
“I…” David mumbled.
“Come on,” I said. “This’ll show us if we can really trust them. Besides, think of the bragging rights you’ll have years from now when you tell this story to your sci-fi book club.”
He stood up slowly, ushering Julie over to Marge again. He nodded to me, and I gave him a weak smile. The curious gleam was starting to creep back into his eyes again.
David approached the device an
d slowly sank to his knees in front of it, folding away the gauze. The blue line intensified, and encased his entire arm inside a blue sheen. David winced and made a fist like he was in pain but didn’t shout out. When the mechanical arm finished, it sheathed the light tool and then instantly retreated back into the wall. David stood up, flexing his arm. I joined him, peering at the wound.
It was gone. Completely. All that was left was a minor scar, about the size of a paper cut. David waggled his fingers and stared at it in amazement. “That’s some…stuff,” he muttered.
The intercom crackled on again. “See?”
“Th-Thank you,” David mumbled, still poking his arm in disbelief.
“We will get you these sup-plies.” The voice clicked off again.
We breathed a collective sigh of relief. Julie ran into David’s arms, and Simon appeared at my feet, hesitantly rubbing against me. I was apparently forgiven for dumping him off my lap.
The group dispersed as David and Julie talked amongst themselves in low voices. How is he going to explain this to his little girl? He’d figure something out. I imagined that he must be feeling an odd mixture of anger, embarrassment, fear, and unexpected gratitude.
My dad stood up and shuffled to his blanket, where he sat down on the ground, breathing heavily. His pale face shone with the sheen of sweat. His weakened system needed more than juice.
Naomi ushered me over to the drink station bench. I joined her and had a seat. “Do you think David will do something like that again?” she asked.
“I don’t. I think he got all of his…battle tactics out of his system.”
“Let’s hope so. I can’t believe he did such a stupid thing, having a daughter here with him.”
I shrugged. “He’s kind of eccentric. But a good man at his core.”
She sighed and then raised an eyebrow at me. “You know, I’d almost say the same thing about your father, but I know there’s more to it. Did you two talk things out after your storming off?”
I frowned and shook my head. “Nah, if I’m lucky he’ll give me a two-word apology later, but I kinda doubt it. He doesn’t know what he said that upset me.”
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