Here

by Zolendz, Christine

  The man who brought me the water is a deep dark shadow by the door. He’s outlined by a glow from an outside room. I can’t make out any of his features, just that he’s chuckling and closing the door, dousing my world in complete blackness once again. A lock clicks and I know I’m caged inside.

  “Go to hell,” my voice cracks through the quietness of the room.

  * * *

  My legs and arms are ice cold and numb the next time the door creaks open. I’m sitting in the farthest corner, my knees pulled up to my chin, waiting. My hands are bloody from tearing at the plastic bottle trying to make a sharp weapon to use. I’ve done enough damage to the container to feel confident I might be able to cause a little bit of pain. The edges are jagged and almost razor-sharp.

  The door shuts quickly behind this newest shadow, and again complete blackness engulfs me.

  I rise up to my feet like a shot, ignoring the sharp stab of cramps. There’s no way I’m going to sit and let any of these men touch me. I’d rather be dead, so I’ll put up one hell of a fight.

  The shadow moves closer to me, slowly. I keep my hands wrapped around the knife-edged plastic behind my back in case they flash a light on me. The last thing I need these shitheads to know is that I’m kind of armed. I don’t want them to see it coming.

  “Kate?” a voice softly whispers.

  My mouth falls open but I’m too speechless at the moment to make a sound.

  “Kate?” the voice whispers again.

  “Asshole?” I ask, feeling a spiral of tingly giddiness deep in my chest.

  His boots shuffle quickly over the gravelly floor and warm hands slip over my skin to my face. “Are you hurt?” His voice is brittle, shaky.

  “What? How?” My words stumble out as I press the palms of my hands over his. “I…don’t understand.”

  He drags his thumb gently over my jaw. Through the darkness I can just about make out his features, yet I know how close he stands from the warm fan of his breath on my cheeks.

  “Those men…” I mumble, my stomach clenching painfully.

  “Are no longer a problem,” he says darkly.

  I stare at his shadowy figure, a twinge of bitterness bubbling in my chest. He and his alien friends did this; they caused all this crap to happen. Now he’s the one to come and save me. I raise my chin from his grip.

  “But you. You’re still my problem.” I’m shaking, getting myself sick to my stomach again thinking about what’s outside the door.

  “I was never the problem,” he whispers, inching closer.

  I bare my teeth, wanting to lash out. “You and your kind destroying my world was never a problem?”

  His hands, large and hot, press down against my shoulders, flattening my back into the wall. “I’m the one who came to save this world.”

  “What?” I ask, pushing back against his weight. “I don’t understand. You said that...” but I stop, because I’m wrong. He never said anything. He never even told me his name.

  “Rune,” he says into the darkness consuming us, sliding his hands off me.

  “Ruin what?” I ask, mind racing.

  “My name. It’s Rune,” he says, pronouncing it slowly.

  “Are you human?” I ask.

  “Yes. No,” he hesitates for a brief moment then continues. “Well, it all depends on what your definition of human is,” he exhales.

  14

  Kate

  He’s dragging me out of the building, I can hardly walk let alone run because the pain in my legs and sides is intense. We stumble down steps and into a labyrinth of snow and corpses. The snow is stained red under bodies beaten so brutally you’d assume a great war was once waged right here, yet Rune has not one scratch on him. My head throbs with a splitting pressure, my pulse roaring in my ears. Who is the real enemy here? What’s really going on? How do I get to Claire?

  I stare down at the bodies, holding back my screams.

  He pushes my chin in the opposite direction, guiding me around the dead. “Don’t look.”

  Yeah, thanks. A little too late for that.

  I wipe my trembling hands over my eyes, trying to brush away the clinging snowflakes from my eyelashes. I lean into him for support, I’m not sure how far I can get like this. “You did that? By yourself?”

  His head snaps up and he rubs at the back of his neck for a moment before meeting my stare. His mouth curls down at each end.

  A shiver skitters down my spine.

  I stop walking; the tips of my boots are covered in snow and blood. I’m looking down at them, trying to figure out all the questions I have for him, everything I need answered.

  “I want you to tell me everything,” I say.

  “What makes you think I know anything?” he snaps.

  “Where are you from? Why is the world like this? Is it all over, in every country? What’s going on?” I brace myself for the answers, trying to overlook the horrifying sensation biting at my thoughts. I know what he’ll say is ridiculous, something made for blockbuster films and not for real life, but looking around I know now—anything is possible. I take a deep, steady breath, waiting for his answers.

  Rune quickly pulls me by the elbow, ignoring my questions.

  I stand my ground and the soles of my boots skid wetly over the slush-covered ground as he continues to drag me along.

  He doesn’t stop until I yank my arm away. “I want answers!”

  Immediately, his face is an inch away from mine, voice hissing so low I can barely understand what he’s saying. “We’re not alone here. Move.”

  My hands clench into fists, my nails carving crescents into my flesh. By the time I realize he might be telling me the truth, it’s too late. Shadows are shifting in the thick air around us, rushing toward us.

  We both stagger back. My heart races, almost exploding in my chest. I grip Rune’s hand. It’s a thoughtless act, one that I’m going to have to revisit at some point when I’m not about to run for my life.

  Rune jerks me to the left and we tear out of there faster than I could ever imagine possible. My eyes lock on what’s straight ahead, but from their corners I can see the darkening shadows of the things at our heels. Large dark figures—I can almost feel breath against my back.

  Squinting through the swirling snow, up ahead I see the shadowy forms of the men. Were they with the ones I just escaped from? We’re running back in the direction we came from. I want to stop and go back, but there’s no turning around. I hesitate when we reach the pile of bodies. My legs are dark red up to the shins of my pant legs, my skin underneath so frozen it’s numb. I squeeze his hand so his head snaps back at me. “Let’s hide under the—”

  I feel my feet tangle, slipping over the icy mess in the street. A razor-sharp pain stabs through my knees and hands as they collide and scrape over the grit covering the asphalt. Bits of rock and cement slice into my skin and I cry out in pain. I end up eye level with a pile of dead bodies.

  This, of course, makes me scream even louder.

  Whatever’s behind us picks up speed; a freight train headed right for us. From the ground, all I have time to do is raise my eyes to Rune. My chest sinks knowing he’ll leave me and try to save himself. I drop his hand and brace myself. His eyes widen then look over my shoulder.

  Cold fingers jab into my armpits. I can feel their iciness through my vest and the ground sliding out from underneath me. Ice and slush soak the bottom of my pants as he hauls me up the steps into a building—a brownstone. The door is open, dangling sideways from broken hinges.

  Once inside, I’m scooped up tightly in his arms as he runs up a flight of stairs. The building is dark and the hallways are narrow, covered with crumbling bricks and long hanging strips of wallpaper. You can tell it was once beautiful, full of rich people’s antiques and decorative snobbery.

  He runs into the first room and tosses me on some soft piece of furniture. It’s a bedroom. “Don’t move too much, you’re hurt.”

  Light from the windows throws a hazy g
low across the room. There’s not much inside except for the bed, a small armoire, and the window. An enormous fireplace takes up one wall. It’s big enough for both of us to lie down in. Crystal frames hold pictures of a happy family in all different poses across its mantle.

  I don’t think that family is happy where they are now.

  The window is where Rune goes immediately. Hands splayed against the glass, he looks down, eyes absorbing everything.

  Pain stabs at my knees but I hobble next to him anyway.

  “You shouldn’t be moving around. You need to rest—”

  “I’m fine,” I lie, watching him. That’s twice he’s saved me now. Twice he didn’t let me die. I want to say thank you but my vocal cords refuse to show him gratitude, so I remain silent. But my heart skips a small beat in my chest.

  On the other side of the dirty glass, one floor down, out on the street, enormous shapes hover over the bodies below.

  “What the f—,” I say, pressing heavily against the cold glass, my gaze wide as I watch through the falling snow. “What are they doing? Are they dressing those dead bodies in the metal suits?”

  Rune’s breath steams out across the window, his eyes narrowing at the sight below. “Yes,” he whispered, “I just don’t understand why.”

  15

  Kate

  I can’t keep my mouth shut.

  “You saved me. Again.” I swallow hard, blinking up at him, “Why?” Even inside it’s cold enough to see my breath as I talk.

  His gaze slowly shifts to mine and lingers; yet he says nothing. A fluttery wave ripples low in my belly. I want him to tell me. I want to know why he just helped me. It doesn’t make any sense. Why didn’t he leave me with those people? And the way he’s staring at me right now—it makes my skin heat up—making me hyper-aware of every inch of it.

  My hands drop to my sides, my fingertips tingle strangely, and my heart hammers in my chest, strong and quick.

  His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, blue eyes still fixed on mine. Strong, thick fingers ball into fists and I wonder why. I wonder if he wants to reach out and touch me. The thought is hot and fast. It thuds through my chest in a staggering rhythm. Quickly, I look away. My cheeks burn red hot when the thought of his fingertips trailing down my throat cloud my mind.

  The thoughts are obscene. Maybe there’s some sort of syndrome I have—something to do with someone saving you from a life or death situation—some sort of hero attraction or trauma bonding or something.

  “They’re leaving,” he whispers, his attention focused outside the window again. I can hear them out on the street, metal hinges squeaking and crunching over the fresh falling snow. The sounds lower slowly and an icy shiver spirals through my shoulders. Why did he ignore my question? Why did he look at me like that?

  “Let me see your legs,” he whispers.

  That’s highly inappropriate. Is that what they do where he comes from—show each other their knees? And if I thought my face was bright red before, it’s nothing like the blazing inferno I feel slap across my cheeks now. It ignites down my neck and scorches across my chest.

  “You’re hurt,” he says, tilting his head to the side. “Badly.”

  “Huh?” That’s all I can manage because I really don’t get the way he’s looking at me like I have three heads. He’s the stupid alien, not me.

  His eyebrows squish together and he scratches absently at his jaw. “You fell. You’re bleeding through your clothing. Roll up your pant legs and let me see them.”

  This time, even my ears burn red. Of course it wouldn’t be what I was thinking. That’s not embarrassing at all. Nope.

  “I’m fine,” I stammer, shuffling my feet. I look back out the window and try desperately to pretend that I’m not affected by any of the strange thoughts twirling around in my head. He doesn’t know I have them anyway, so it’s good. It’s all good.

  “We should stay here for a few hours. You need to rest, get warm. Regenerate.”

  “Regenerate?” I can’t make sense of his words. “No, I need to get my sister.” I start to move toward the door and double over in pain.

  “Please,” he says softly. “Surely you understand you need to heal or you’ll be no help to your sister at all.”

  I clench my jaw tight. I know he’s right, but I don’t want him to see how much pain I’m in. “Fine, just for the rest of the day and then tomorrow, no matter what, you’re taking me to get Claire.” I hope to God the people that once lived here have a fully stocked medicine cabinet.

  He nods his head, eyes still scanning the streets below us.

  I cross my arms over my chest and stand like an idiot. I bob my head, twisting my mouth as if I’m thinking of some really important things. “Maybe we should search this building. There might be other things we could—”

  “Go ahead, if you’re really feeling fine,” he says, eyes still focusing on what’s outside.

  “I’ll just go then,” I say quietly, walking toward the door. Pain shoots up my legs but I try my best to ignore it. My sides ache and my face feels bruised, but I told him I was fine, so it’s what I’m going to have to be. Hopefully, this will be the last day we spend together and soon I can find Claire and a safe place for us to ride out this…whatever this is.

  I hobble out into the hallway, my body stiff and trembling from the aftershocks of the adrenaline rush before. As I trudge through the darkened rooms, each step fuels my courage. I will find my sister and I will save her. And right now, I will find something to eat because I’m suddenly ravenous.

  The inside of the building is awash in dark cerulean tones, disrupted only by pale gray shafts of light that slip in through shredded curtains.

  The kitchen holds a few treasures. Protein bars and a few boxes of cereals. Bottles of water and a cabinet full of canned vegetables. I’m even lucky enough to find one of those handheld can openers—one that doesn’t need electricity to work.

  In the bathroom I find a full medicine cabinet to get blindingly high off of. The first thing I grab is a bottle of over-the-counter pain relievers and pop a few in my mouth, swallowing them dry. All I need is a little edge off the pain, that’s all.

  I swipe the rest of the crap into my backpack and close the cabinet. My reflection on the mirror stares back at me. I don’t even recognize myself. Matted hair, blood and dirt caked all over my skin. There are cuts and gashes and bruises all over my face and jaw.

  My breath catches in my throat when my eyes fall on my neck and the hand-shaped bruises that darken my skin. Tears blur my vision and I back away from the mirror, from the sight of me battered and beaten.

  I tear through the drawers under the sink and find a few packages of baby wipes and tear them open. Starting with my hands I scrub my skin. I scour off layers of grime and blood until I see the color of flesh. Up my arms and across my shoulders and chest. I rub gently at my neck and face, but the busted capillaries remain and ache sharply with pain.

  I was hoping they’d wash off. I was hoping they weren’t real.

  I take off my clothes and wash every inch of my body. Every cut and scrape. There’s a first aid kit next to a stack of toilet paper that has a dozen or so Band-Aids inside; I use them all. The bathroom even had a bottle of dry shampoo that I spray on every strand of my hair.

  There’s a soft pink terrycloth robe hanging on the back of the door that I slip over my shoulders and cinch tight at my waist. From the look of the makeup bag, there had to be a woman who lived here, and I pray she wore the same size as me.

  I ease the bathroom door open and look out into the hallway. No aliens.

  A small bedroom down the end of the hall hosts a teenager’s room. The closet inside contains clothes for someone a little bigger in size than me, but beggars can’t be choosers and my clothes are stained in blood.

  I take a few extra shirts and pants and hit the rest of the rooms in the house.

  The entire home is as tidy and kept as a museum save for the eerie traces of some small
moments of life when the world just stopped. A half-eaten gourmet sandwich lies in the middle of a dish; green fuzzy mold spreads itself over the top of it. Clean clothes are freshly folded on a table in the laundry room, waiting to be put away, and a half-empty cup of tea sits on a lone table near a back window long ago forgotten about when our visitors arrived.

  Our visitors. I really don’t know anything about them. I don’t know where they came from or what they want—only that they’re here and mostly everyone else is gone.

  Quietly, I open the door to where I left one of those visitors. My pack full and belly aching for the food I found.

  A comforting warmth and bright glow from the fireplace hit me as soon as I slip inside.

  “Find food?” Rune rumbles, the undertone of hunger biting through his words.

  “Maybe,” I say, narrowing my eyes and slinging my bag off my shoulder. It hits the floor hard, sharing the secrets of my bounty inside.

  His eyes zone in on the bag then back to me.

  “You cleaned up,” he says, his lips pulling up into a smile. His gaze drops down to my neck and the bruises there sting more now that someone else is seeing them. I brush my hair over the front of my shoulders to hide them.

  “You made a fire,” I answer, crouching down and pulling open the pack. I grab a protein bar and toss it in his direction. His hand darts up, quicker than humanly possible, and rips open the wrapping. The speed of his reflexes startles me, bringing me back down to reality. This isn’t someone you trust. He’s not someone to let your guard down with. Stop being friendly to him.

  I move closer to the fire and warm my hands in its glow. I take a protein bar for myself and slowly savor the flavor when it fills my mouth. My stomach rumbles thunderously, screaming out how long it’s been empty.

  He chews noisily, tugging the blankets and sheets off the bed.