The Krinar Captive

by Anna Zaires

  As Emily had sensed during her time with Zaron, the Ks had a terrifying penchant for violence.

  The video had made her sick when she’d first seen it, and she wasn’t the only one. The exodus out of the major cities—the reverse migration that had begun on K-Day—had picked up speed in the last two weeks, with traffic jams again threatening to choke all travel. For some reason, people thought they’d be safer in small towns and rural areas, and they fled the cities despite the UN announcing the Coexistence Treaty last month.

  “Oh, please,” Amber had snorted when Emily had spoken to her on Skype after the announcement. She’d left the city the day after Emily’s return and was staying with her parents in Connecticut. “Everyone knows that treaty is a sham. The UN just tucked their tails between their legs and rolled over, throat bared. You heard what they’re saying about the nukes, right?”

  “Yes, of course,” Emily had said. The Internet was rife with rumors that China had tried to launch a rocket carrying a nuclear weapon at one of the Krinar ships, and the aliens had retaliated by vaporizing all of Earth’s nuclear arsenal. Nobody knew if that was actually true—the government officials were denying everything—but every couple of days, some anonymous source would pop up with new details, and the story would get new legs.

  Conspiracy theorists were having a field day.

  “So yeah, they don’t have any weapons left now, so they just gave in,” Amber had continued in disgust. “Cowards.”

  “Well, what else are they supposed to do? Go to war with the Ks?” Emily had asked, but Amber hadn’t wanted to listen to reason. It was easier to think of the government leaders as cowards than to accept the scary truth that the Krinar were so technologically superior that any military resistance was futile.

  Not that people didn’t try to resist on an individual level. The vicious fight with the Saudis was one of many such skirmishes that were occurring all over the world as people came into contact with the invaders. Nobody was happy that the aliens were planning to build their colonies on Earth for some unknown purpose, and many groups were downright hostile. Fights with the invaders kept breaking out in various parts of the globe, and with each one, the humans learned just how dangerous and violent the Krinar truly were. Though the visitors’ intentions were supposedly peaceful, the death toll attributed to the Krinar was in the hundreds, and there was no sign that the violence would abate any time soon.

  The situation was further exacerbated by the doomsday-like panic that kept sweeping through the population as different stories, some true, some false, circulated on the net. The most recent rumor—which Emily suspected might actually be true—was that the Krinar were planning to shut down major industrial farms and force meat and dairy producers to switch to growing fruits and vegetables. As a result of that rumor, many had begun hoarding animal products, and the prices for chicken, beef, and milk were skyrocketing, leading to more hoarding and an even greater incidence of looting.

  And that was the biggest problem of all: the governments’ inability to control and police their panicked citizens. Emily’s mugging on K-Day had been just the start of an unprecedented crime wave that had swept cities and towns all over the globe. New York, which had lost over half of its population, was now dangerous enough that Emily no longer ventured out of her apartment after dark. However, it was nothing compared to places like Moscow, Beijing, and Johannesburg. It was still possible to buy a few groceries in Manhattan, and most local businesses, including banks and media companies, continued to function, but those other cities had descended into chaos. Some pundit had dubbed the weeks following the Ks’ arrival “the Great Panic,” and the name had stuck.

  It wasn’t the end of the world like some had predicted, but in some places, it was close.

  While the vast majority of the population obsessed about the invaders, Emily watched the news with a disinterest that bordered on depression. She knew she should care, and sometimes she considered going to the authorities with the little extra knowledge she had, but most days, she felt too listless to do more than get out of bed, take care of George, and fill out a couple of job applications. Not that anyone was actually hiring in this climate. Stocks, bonds, and other securities had crashed immediately after K-Day, and every new story about the invaders caused the markets to oscillate wildly, resulting in a volatility that far exceeded the worst months of the Great Recession. Trillions of dollars in invested funds had been lost in fear-driven selling, and Emily personally knew at least ten hedge funds that had collapsed in recent weeks, unable to sustain the heavy losses. There was no refuge anywhere, not even in AAA-rated government bonds—typically the safest of all investments. When one didn’t know whether the United States would exist next month, it didn’t matter that something was backed by the full faith and credit of the US government.

  Emily’s own investment portfolio, already decimated by the recession, was now pitifully tiny, and her savings were shrinking at an alarming rate. Or at least it was a rate that would’ve alarmed the old Emily, the one who didn’t feel so empty inside. The Emily who had returned from Costa Rica couldn’t work up the energy to care about any of it—simply existing took everything she had.

  Her longing for Zaron was like a wound that refused to heal. No matter what she did, she was cognizant of missing him—his smile, his laugh, his touch… even the predatory intensity that had scared her at times. The horrifying stories on the news should’ve made her hate him—hate all Krinar—but all she could think of was the way he’d held her at night and how she’d felt closer to him than to any man she’d known.

  She’d tried to go out once. Two of her girlfriends from work had stayed in the city, and the three of them had gone bar-hopping the weekend before the crime wave had gotten really bad. Emily had laughed and flirted with the men who’d hit on her, but all of them had left her cold, and she’d returned home alone, feeling even emptier than before.

  If she could’ve gotten into a time machine and gone back to the moment when Zaron had asked her to stay, Emily would’ve made a different decision. Maybe her feelings for Zaron were a result of her captivity, but that didn’t make them any less real. Her leaving hadn’t been a rational move; Emily realized that now. All her rationalizations had been an attempt to justify something irrational, to suppress and ignore the fear she’d carried with her since her parents’ deaths.

  She’d been so afraid that Zaron would leave her that she’d pushed him away—just as she’d done with Jason.

  Groaning, Emily turned off the TV and got up to pace around her tiny studio. Though she’d gone out to buy groceries just a few hours ago, she was beginning to feel cooped up and claustrophobic. She wanted to go for a run, to do something to force away the depression that sucked all life out of her, but it was too dangerous to go out at this time of night. To make matters worse, thinking of going outside reminded her of how much she’d enjoyed the lush nature of Costa Rica during her walks with Zaron through the jungle.

  How much they’d enjoyed it together.

  A sharper ache pierced her chest at the memories, and scorching tears stung her eyes. To combat the urge to cry, Emily pulled out her yoga mat and began doing sit-ups. It wasn’t the same as a run outside, but it was better than nothing—and it was certainly better than another crying fit in the shower. She could get through this; she would get through this.

  She was a survivor, and she was determined.

  It was on her twenty-seventh sit-up that an idea came to Emily. She didn’t have any way of reaching Zaron—he hadn’t left her an email or a phone number or whatever the Krinar used—but she did know the approximate location of his house. Could she do it? Could she swallow her pride and beg him to take her back? Yes, there was a risk that he wouldn’t want her, that he’d found someone else during this time, and yes, they’d have only a few years together before Emily started to age, but weren’t a few years better than nothing?

  Wasn’t it better to know happiness, even if just for a short while, th
an to go through life experiencing only this draining loneliness?

  Suddenly energized, Emily jumped up from the mat and ran to her computer. Civilian air travel was allowed again, and though plane tickets had skyrocketed in price due to overwhelming demand, there was nothing preventing Emily from using her remaining savings to buy a one-way ticket to Costa Rica.

  To hell with her fear and pride. She was going to hop in that time machine and try to undo her mistake.

  She was entering her payment information on the United Airlines’ website when her doorbell rang. Puzzled, Emily walked over to the door to look through the peephole, and her heart flew into her throat.

  Two men dressed in suits were standing on the other side of her door. One was of average height and lean, while the other one was nearly as wide as he was tall.

  “Yes?” Emily called out without reaching for the lock. Her palms were sweating, her stomach tight with a sickening premonition. “How may I help you?”

  “Miss Ross, I’m Agent Wolfe, and this is Agent Janson,” the lean man said, holding up an official-looking badge. “We’re from the Department of Homeland Security. If you don’t mind, we’d like to talk to you about a call you made to the United States Embassy in Costa Rica several days prior to K-Day.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  The shari plants were adapting well to the Costa Rican soil. The roots were thick and healthy, and the scan showed that within a few months, they would flower and bear fruit. In general, it appeared that Zaron had chosen this Center’s location well. The climate was pleasant, and the soil welcoming. As Zaron had hoped, upon arrival, the Council had decided to use this Center as their primary base of operations. They named it Lenkarda, meaning “a triumphant start.” They also praised Zaron and his team for the other Centers’ locations. This should’ve pleased Zaron, but all he felt was a kind of bleak indifference—the same dull numbness that had gripped him since Emily’s departure.

  Leaving the farming area of the developing Center, he went back to his house. Even moving at his natural speed, it took him over an hour to get home on foot, but Zaron didn’t mind. He could’ve relocated closer to Lenkarda, but he liked the isolation. Being around other Krinar was uncomfortable, almost painful these days. On the rare occasions when the numbness gripping him receded, he felt raw inside, like a tree stripped of its protective bark, and interacting with people seemed to make it worse.

  Losing Emily was as devastating as he’d feared it would be.

  Entering the house, Zaron took a shower and went into Emily’s room. Her scent still lingered there, in the sheets that he’d forbidden his house to change. He lay down and breathed it in, closing his eyes to pretend that she was still with him, that if he reached out, he could touch her… hold her.

  But of course he couldn’t. Not because she was far away—a couple of thousand miles meant nothing to the Krinar—but because he’d made her a promise.

  “You can get her back, you know,” Ellet had said last week, dangling the temptation in front of him again. “Just go to New York and bring her back. Who knows? Maybe she’d be glad to see you. You know what the situation in those human cities is like. Do you really want her living there?”

  Zaron had snapped at his colleague, telling her to mind her own business, but a similar thought had occurred to him more than once—on a nightly basis, in fact. He missed Emily so acutely that he sometimes thought he’d go mad from the intense longing. In some ways, it was even worse than when Larita had died. Then, he’d had no choice but to accept that his mate was gone, that he’d lost her forever, but with Emily, the knowledge that he could have her back taunted him, made him want to forget all about his principles and the promises he’d made.

  He could have her—all he had to do was go against her wishes and deprive her of her freedom.

  Pushing the thought away, Zaron closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep. To his annoyance, the sleep wouldn’t come. He tossed and turned for a solid hour before giving up. Getting up, he touched his wrist computer and said, “Show her to me.”

  A three-dimensional image of Emily’s apartment appeared in front of him. The day after she left, Zaron had accessed the camera on her laptop, telling himself that, given the humans’ panicked reaction to the Krinar arrival, he needed to make sure Emily got home safely. It was his responsibility to her; after all, he’d been the reason she couldn’t return to New York earlier.

  To his relief, she’d been in her apartment that evening, watching TV with a gray feline curled up on her lap. It was her cat George, Zaron had realized, hungrily taking in the image. After a few minutes, he’d forced himself to turn off the recording, telling himself that he had to leave her alone, but the next day, he’d accessed the camera again and watched Emily eat a sandwich while reading a book. The day after that, she’d been out, and he’d been frantic, worrying that something had happened to her, but she’d come home after an hour, and he’d relaxed again. Enough, he’d told himself then, but the computer kept luring him back, and every few days, he’d slip up and watch her as she slept, ate, played with her cat, or searched for jobs on the human Internet. It was a terrible invasion of her privacy, he knew, but he couldn’t stop himself.

  Seeing her on those recordings was the only thing that brought Zaron joy these days.

  So now he greedily studied the image in front of him, searching for signs that Emily was home. Sometimes she was in the bathroom, and he wouldn’t see her right away, but she always came back into the main room after a few minutes. Emily’s entire apartment was that room, so if she was home, Zaron would see her soon enough.

  But he didn’t see her. Only her cat was there, sitting on the floor and licking its paw, then swiping it over its furry face. Zaron had to admit the animal’s antics were fascinating, and on a different day, he would’ve enjoyed the show, but Emily’s absence was making him uneasy. It was already late, and she’d stopped going out in the evening in recent weeks—likely because of the growing crime rate in her city. So where could she be? What could she be doing?

  He waited for an hour and a half, his unease growing with every second, but she still didn’t come home.

  Zaron checked the time. It was well after midnight in New York. There was no reason for Emily to leave her apartment so late. She had to know it was dangerous for a young woman to wander around the city on her own these days.

  Unless… unless she wasn’t on her own.

  Everything inside Zaron jolted at the thought, the fury like a blast of fire through his veins. He’d known Emily would find a mate eventually—she was far too smart and beautiful not to—but there was a world of difference between knowing something and confronting it. Emily, his Emily, might be with another man at this very moment, and Zaron couldn’t bear it. He pictured her sleeping in some human male’s embrace, and his fists clenched with the urge to kill the man, to rip him into pieces with his bare hands. It didn’t matter that Zaron had let Emily go; the ancient territorial instinct within him insisted that she was his—that she would always be his.

  His rage was so strong he was barely cognizant of issuing the order to his computer. It was only when Emily’s texts and emails appeared on the three-dimensional image in front of him that Zaron realized how insane he was acting. Still, he couldn’t make himself stop. He read through all of her recent communications, searching for any clue as to where she might be and with whom, but to his disappointment, there was nothing there—no agreed-upon assignations, not even a hint of flirtation.

  Zaron’s jealousy gave way to worry.

  “Track her cell phone,” he said sharply, and his computer obeyed, pinging off the human satellites to triangulate the GPS signal.

  But there was no signal—at least none that his computer could detect.

  Frowning, Zaron tried again. And again.

  Nothing.

  It was as if Emily’s phone had vanished.

  “Access her laptop,” Zaron ordered his computer. “Search her browser history.”
<
br />   And it was there, in Emily’s browser, that Zaron saw it: a partially finished order for a one-way plane ticket to Costa Rica.

  His pulse stopped for a second, then roared back to life, his heart slamming into his ribcage.

  Emily was returning.

  She was coming back to him.

  For a second, the elation was almost blinding, but then Zaron realized that Emily hadn’t completed the order.

  She’d left before buying the ticket, and he was no closer to figuring out where she was and what had happened to her.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  “I’ve already told you everything I know,” Emily said, unable to contain her frustration. They’d been interrogating her in this small, stuffy room for hours, and she could feel the walls starting to close in on her. She tried to manage her claustrophobia by taking deep breaths, but nothing was helping. To make matters worse, she was so tired it took all her energy just to remain upright in her hard metal chair. What time was it now? Two in the morning? Three? There was no clock on the wall, and they’d taken away her cell phone. She’d always thought government employees worked nine to five, but that clearly wasn’t the case with Homeland Security—or at least with this particular branch.

  Emily strongly suspected the agents who came to her house weren’t run-of-the-mill border patrol.

  “You’ve hardly told us anything, Miss Ross,” Agent Wolfe said, his narrow face expressionless. “You fell, you were saved by a Krinar who then detained you for two and a half weeks, and you returned home on K-Day. Do you honestly expect us to believe that this is the whole story?”