Girl Vs (Sinister Skies Book 1)

Home > Other > Girl Vs (Sinister Skies Book 1) > Page 3
Girl Vs (Sinister Skies Book 1) Page 3

by Xela Culletto


  “Don’t make the same mistake your friend did,” he said, pointing the gun. “I will shoot you.”

  My vision swam with anger, and I was about to do something really stupid when one of the invaders pushed me backward.

  “Go,” she whispered as I tried to regain my bearings. “He won’t hurt you if you stay out of his way.”

  An inner conflict erupted within. They can’t get away with this! He’d shoot me before I could get within ten feet. After a split-second deliberation, I turned and ran, hating myself.

  Had I been thinking straight, I would’ve tried to track their footprints back to wherever it was they’d come from. I wasn’t a super tracker, but I had gotten better recently. Then all I’d have to do was wait for them.

  But I wasn’t thinking. I burst from the cave, squinting at the brightness as I ran. Instinctively I took one of the lesser known paths, trying to conceal my route.

  Poor Meg. Poor, poor Meg. She’d been one of the only civil things left in the world. A ray of light in a world turned dark.

  I hated those people. I hated them so much at that moment I would’ve sought their deaths, had I been able. This is John’s fault, I thought, and my hatred grew to envelop him as well. He was the one that should be lying dead in the cave, not Meg. Eventually I got far enough away that I knew I was safe, at least for the moment. I stumbled my way off the trail and sat on a log, trying to catch my breath.

  What was I thinking? That I wanted to kill those people? A surge of anger rushed through me once more and I knew my answer. How far I had fallen—how different from the girl who used to sit in the back of algebra, doodling stars onto her notes. The girl who used to cry when she saw dead deer on the side of the road.

  My breathing eased and I assessed my situation: I had my two best knives on me, so that was good, but no darts. No companions. Also no food, no water, and no shelter. It was the worst situation I’d been in since the invasion began.

  I could go back to the cave later, but if the boulder was in place I wouldn’t be able to move it alone. And there was the possibility that the invaders would just decide to settle in—I doubted there were many hideouts as good as the cave. Especially with all the water stores that had been hauled in by my sweat.

  Another rush of anger swept through me. The urge to charge back to the cave and attack was overwhelming. Taking a deep breath, I stood and took a deliberate step back toward the path. I steered myself farther down the trail, away from the cave. Attacking would be stupid. I had to keep reminding myself.

  Luckily, my hunting escapades had given me detailed familiarity with the layout of the forest. I knew where an abandoned out-of-the-way bear den was hidden. Pursing my lips, I began the short trip.

  Heading in the opposite direction of the cave almost felt like suicide. Everything you need is there, my brain persisted. Food, drink, warmth, light! The worst part was, I wasn’t sure how to fix my predicament.

  I could stake out the cave and see if the intruders had left it open and unguarded. That seemed like too much to hope for but it would be plan A tomorrow, I decided. The only other choice, given my desperate need for supplies, was to head to the city. Which also felt like suicide. The Vela seemed to only grow in numbers daily. Tristen and Tanya had developed the skills needed to skulk around unnoticed, but I wasn’t as seasoned as they’d been.

  The familiar sense of bleakness settled over me. If the choice had to be made, given the options of starving, being shot, or being mauled by an alien, I would take the bullet. The fact that this choice had already been decided many times in the past made me feel even more grim.

  The bear den came into view, looking even more dreary than I remembered. A dead fern shrouded the entrance almost entirely from view, but I could just make out the hard, rock-infested ground. No wonder the bear had abandoned it.

  Hunching down on all fours, I crept inside. The smell of earth was so pungent I could almost taste the dirt. It was expansive enough I could sit without bumping my head. I settled onto the least rocky spot I could find and stared outward.

  The sun was beginning to settle, and animals were beginning to stir. A skunk meandered by slowly, but didn’t take any interest in me. Something else—a rat maybe—unsettled the brush outside. I hoped it wouldn’t come inside.

  The sky darkened. An owl hooted. Thirst came.

  There was a stream nearby that I hoped had mostly pure water. In the cave, we had never risked drinking anything that hadn’t been strained through the purifiers first, but it seemed those days had passed.

  My throat itched with dryness, but I didn’t dare go out in the dark. Not when aliens might be out there, hidden from sight. With a sigh, I laid down facing the opening, my arm acting as a boney pillow. This was going to be a long night.

  Chapter 5

  It was dark, but there was noise.

  Was someone banging pots and pans around?

  Zach shifted restlessly in the cramped space, hands clenched around a baseball bat. An especially loud bang made him jump. It had to be pots and pans. But who would be in the kitchen?

  His breath came quick and heavy; his muscles were taut.

  Suddenly, a loud shout.

  Zach burst from the bedroom closet to find Dad—he needed help!

  But he never made it out of his room.

  I woke with a lurch, heart pounding. Darkness surrounded me. I gasped for breaths and tried to orient myself.

  I was in a bear den. I was alone. I wasn’t in the cave because.… They killed Meg!

  After that nightmare, I wouldn’t have thought there would be room for any more anguish, but somehow another morsel wormed its way in. I didn’t even try to fight it. Misery was my life.

  My throat felt like it had been scraped down with sandpaper. Aliens or no, I needed water.

  I got up, noting that my muscles weren’t even stiff. I must’ve only been asleep for a moment. Edging out of the den, I underestimated the height of the entrance and dirt clods fell into my hair.

  Once free, I filled my lungs deeply, enjoying the clean air, then tried to shake the dirt off. Knife at the ready, I prowled through the night.

  The creek was closer than I’d remembered. The sound of rushing water deepened my thirst, and unconsciously I began jogging. When it came into view I threw myself onto the bank and slurped without even an attempt at civility.

  It took a good while, but finally my body was satisfied. I sat back, covered from shirt to boots in mud, and looked around. Nothing was out of the ordinary. The stars were sparkling and the forest was keeping its secrets hidden.

  I didn’t want to go back to the den. There was no way I would be able to sleep now and even if I could have, the nightmares would be back.

  And then I would be reliving it all. Again.

  Remembering how I had come home, carrying in stolen milk.

  Seeing Dad on the kitchen floor.

  Finding Zach in the bedroom.

  Imagining how it must have happened.

  I couldn’t bear it.

  Our city had been one of the first invaded. We’d had no warning. Most people had no warning. Finding Dad and Zach had put me on my guard pretty quick. That’s when I began keeping knives—the first, our kitchen butcher knife. It had saved me more than once.

  Of course, there’d been the uninterrupted news coverage when the scientists had first discovered the approaching ships. The constant attempts at communication. The echo of silence.

  Then, the world had gone mad.

  Religions declared the end of the world; atheists began praying; people walked around openly armed—as young as gradeschool kids; then came the looting, the pillaging, the eye-for-an-eye ideology; world leaders pleaded for order, then disappeared; the police lasted longer, but not by much; schools closed; stores closed; gas stations closed; the only thing open was the churches, which became flooded with people; some went into hiding, many committed suicide; most hunkered down with their families.

  Which was what we’d don
e. There were still times—lots of times, truthfully—that I wished I hadn’t left for milk that day. That I’d shared in their fate.

  But when I’d seen that first alien—face to face, only hours later that same day—reflex kicked in and I’d attacked without even considering otherwise. The butcher knife proved itself.

  I outlasted so many.

  Outlasted only to end up here, sitting on a mudbank, too afraid to sleep.

  Suddenly an owl swooped silently by. The moon was bright and my eyes were adjusted so I had no problem following its movements. It might have been hunting, but it never dove. More likely it was fleeing the area.

  I stood, not really sure where I was going or what I was going to do.

  Follow the owl, I guess.

  It was headed somewhat in the direction of the cave, which I guess was fortuitous. I’d planned to wait until daylight to return, but what did it matter, really. The route was mostly downhill, and I knew the area well enough I could go “as the bird flies”, rather than follow the twisty path. I arrived at the cave in no time.

  As I suspected, the boulder was in place—the friendly neighborhood terrorists had taken over, at least for the night. Probably sleeping in my sleeping bag. Maybe even using the clean pajamas Meg had just washed for me. All the while I shivered alone in the dark, unable to sleep, covered in mud.

  That’s when I noticed the raccoons. Half a dozen or so were gathered in a circular fashion, all attention on their feast. Before my eyes could decipher it, the smell clued me in. I’d smelled human corpse far more than any person should.

  Those monsters hadn’t even attempted to bury Meg—just tossed her out for the animals like leftover chicken bones. Fury bubbled up inside me.

  “Go! Get!” I yelled, knives brandished, as I rushed at the raccoons. They scampered away.

  I took a good look at Meg’s remains as I sheathed the knives. There wasn’t much to see—she was completely unrecognizable. I hated to leave her body lying there for the rodents to return to, but there was no way I could relocate her in one piece. After a moment’s hesitation, I settled for taking a silver ring from her right hand. I could at least bury that.

  I turned to leave—I didn’t want to be around when the cozy inhabitants of the cave awoke—and gasped.

  A Vela—the biggest one I’d seen—was right in front of me.

  It attacked—slicing claws through the air and then through my forearm. I screamed and instinctively grabbed the injury with my good hand. The creature took advantage of my vulnerability and hurled itself at me, trying to knock me down. I swiftly spun out of the way, reaching for a knife as I did, and managed to nick the creature’s back a little as it fell.

  It was quick though, especially for its size, and a breath later it had twisted back around and was attacking again. Those claws had to be at least two inches long. They came flying at me, but I ducked underneath them, blindly swiping my blade as I whirled to the side, barely out of reach. I’d forgotten how quick they could be when they weren’t drugged.

  I got lucky, though—my wild slash must have hit some vital organ because the alien suddenly hunched over and then began making some weird clicking noises. I didn’t stick around to try and interpret.

  Clutching my damaged arm as I sprinted through the forest, I was careful not to fall on twisted twigs or tree roots. As luck would have it, it was the same arm Vanessa had just stitched up. These cuts were deeper though, I could tell. The pain was severe, as was the bleeding. I couldn’t see how much flowed, but I knew I had to be leaving a clear red-splatter trail for anyone—or anything—that might want to find me.

  Not knowing where else to go, I grudgingly headed back to the bear den, stopping by the creek to wash the blood from the wound. The cuts were worse than I’d feared—wider than usual. Definitely needed stiches.

  I took off the plaid button-up shirt I was wearing—I had a t-shirt underneath—and began cutting the bottom of it into strips. At least, that’s what I tried to do. The moment I flexed the torn muscles, they screamed, and I crouched over in pain for a solid minute before I could try again. I ended up having to use my mouth to hold the shirt and my good hand to cut.

  I managed to get several very uneven strips, and used them to bind the cuts. I tried not to think about how much germs, dirt and who-knows-what must have been all over them. Bleeding out would kill me faster than an infection.

  Whimpering a little, I scuffled back into the den, much worse off than when I’d left it less than an hour before. It was still dark, but animals were beginning to stir so I knew morning would be on its way soon.

  After I’d found Zach and Dad, I wept openly for days. I cried as I ate, cried as I slept, and cried as I hid. My tear ducts ran dry, and still I wept.

  When the crying finally came to an end, eons later, I promised myself I would never cry again. Nothing would ever be as bad as losing them, so nothing else would ever be deserving of my tears.

  It was hard, though, to keep from crying that morning.

  Chapter 6

  I needed to go into the city. There was no weighing the alternatives or making pro/con lists; it was a matter of life and death. Or perhaps death and death. Staying in the forest and going into the city both offered equal chance of dying. But I had to try, and that meant heading into the hornet’s nest in search of food.

  The sun was up and I’d taken a long drink from the stream, so I was as prepared as I was ever going to be. The city pushed right up to the base of the mountains, so it wasn’t like I’d have to walk for miles. With any luck, there’d be some posh mansion at the top of the foothills whose occupants had been avid outdoorsmen. Or even better, survivalists with a bunker I could hide in for the next seventy years. Preferably with morphine. Ooh, and a Blu-ray player.

  I walked furtively, praying I wouldn’t run into anymore monsters. The bleeding had slowed, but my “bandages” needed changing, and the pain hadn’t subsided at all. I didn’t think I could manage another run-in.

  Fortune was with me and I made it to the topmost house without incident. It was a stately gray manor, with three stories and large windows for enjoying the view of the green valley below. The location was remote and I thought it unlikely many aliens would have migrated up this far.

  I reached out, tentatively twisting the brass handle until it clicked. I pulled, but it was locked, so I threw a rock through one of the windows. Actually, I threw a few. It was therapeutic.

  After knocking the remaining shards off the window pane, I climbed in, being careful not to bump my arm. Inside was a large white-tiled foyer with an impressive chandelier. Everything, from the cream-colored sofas to the expansive staircase, was still.

  Not wasting a moment, I headed straight for the kitchen. It too was spacious, with black appliances, dark wood, and a wide island. I passed right by the fridge—I’d learned the hard way not to open a refrigerator that hadn’t seen the light of day for over a year—and opened the pantry.

  Jackpot.

  Though it had obviously been rifled through, there was still canned goods, crackers, and ramen. I hadn’t had hot food in a while and I really wanted to cook up the ramen. But there hadn’t been electricity in forever, so that was out. I settled for cheese crackers and a can of cold chili. The only can opener I could find was electric, but fortunately I was pretty handy with a knife.

  I ate on the floor, where I was comfortable. The formal dining table was still pristine, with fresh candles adorning the spotless white tablecloth. I wondered why Tristen and Tanya hadn’t completely depleted the food supply here, the nearest source.

  After my feast, I went in search of medical supplies. It took a few minutes, but I found my way to the master bathroom. Rummaging around rewarded me with a travel-sized bottle of Tylenol and a box of band-aids. There had to be more elsewhere.

  In one of the bedrooms I found a backpack, which I shoved full with some clothes I thought would fit, as well as a sturdy thermos. The home office actually had one of those water cooler
s you see at businesses sometimes, so I filled the thermos to the brim.

  Eventually, after what seemed like the twenty-eighth closet, I found the stock of medical supplies. Like the pantry, someone had clearly gone through it, but there were still some strong painkillers, some anti-infection cream, as well as some bandage and tape.

  I lathered on a thick layer of cream, rebandaged my arm, and swallowed some pills. The abundance of supplies made me wonder again why Tristen and Tanya—or anyone else, for that matter—hadn’t already looted the place clean.

  Medical needs taken care of, all I wanted was to collapse on one of the thousand-dollar mattresses. I made my way to the bedroom and began undressing.

  A loud shot blasted through the peaceful silence.

  Jumping about a mile, I looked around frantically. The shot had been very close—maybe hit the dresser.

  “It’s time for you to leave,” a voice said.

  I couldn’t see anybody.

  “Who—where are you?”

  A woman, probably in her thirties, stepped out from the closet, gun pointed straight at my chest.

  “Leave. Now. Or I’ll shoot you.”

  “But… You’ve known I was here this whole time?”

  “You haven’t exactly been quiet. I let you fix yourself up, but you won’t be sleeping here.”

  I paused, looking longingly at the bed.

  “Couldn’t we could come to some sort of arrangement?”

  “An arrangement?” she scoffed. “Neither of us would sleep, knowing the other was here. Who knows what you might do? Consider yourself lucky. I usually shoot as soon as anyone gets in range.”

  “Why didn’t you shoot me?”

  “You’re nothing but a half-starved kid--and injured to boot. I haven’t lost all my humanity.”

  That’s rich, coming from the person aiming a gun at my heart.

  My thoughts flickered to my knives. But of course there was nothing I could do. Not with her at point blank range. I could tell from the look in her eye she wasn’t bluffing when she said she’d shoot me.

 

‹ Prev