by Kelly Goode
‘This year I’d prefer brandy.’
‘I’ll keep that in mind.’
‘So are you really alright?’ he asked, and the concern on his face was genuine enough for her to tell the truth.
‘No.
He smiled in response. ‘I thought not. Got too close to those grenades again, didn’t you?’
‘Yeah, I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.’
‘I know you are, but you can’t keep taking on these renegade missions. You went to that warehouse without Blake and that is a big no-no. Why do you think I gave you such a senior partner in the first place? I told him to guide you and assess your decisions, but in order for him to do that, he has to know where you are. You put your life in danger last night.’
‘I didn’t think.’
‘No, you didn’t. There are people in this organisation that care for you, Carson. Deeply. You’re a good agent, some say the best agent, but you have to stop taking this job so personally.’
Carson stared at the man sitting across the desk from her and her earlier feelings of guilt gave way to anger.
‘It is personal,’ she said, which only made the chief sigh louder.
‘It’s a job, honey.’
‘How can you say that? And don’t call me honey - I’m not ten anymore.’
‘Being an agent is your occupation. It doesn’t define who you are, nor should it dictate how you live your life.’
Carson laughed bitterly as a fresh onslaught of pain lanced her shoulder blade when she struggled to her feet.
‘Being an agent is my life. I’m not here for the pension or the holiday pay. Do you think I enjoy being blown up and having all these scars? I kill aliens. That’s what you pay me to do and I’m damn good at it, but no matter what you say, it’ll never just be a job to me.’
‘However many you kill, it won’t change the past.’
‘I know that.’
‘Do you?’
Carson blinked against a sudden rush of tears. She would not let him see her cry. He hadn’t seen her cry since her mother’s funeral.
‘Is there anything else?’ she asked, feeling her bottom lip tremble. ‘Because if not, then I have work to do.’
He shook his head.
‘No… wait, yes there is.’
He reached into his drawer and retrieved a small red tub, which he rolled across the desk for her to catch.
‘Apply it twice a day to the burns and it’ll stop any scabs from itching.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘And Carson.’
‘Yes, sir?’
‘It’s only because I care.’
She thought about that statement for a moment.
‘If you really cared about me Uncle, you’d never have brought me into this damn organisation in the first place.’
16
Chief Melman was not really Carson’s uncle, and she knew it hurt him when she called him that because he was so much more. He’d been her mother’s best friend before her murder and then afterwards, the only person willing to take on a ten-year-old girl whose father chose drink instead of responsibility.
Chief Melman, or Tom as she was allowed to call him off-duty, stepped up when no one else wanted her. It was a lengthy process before he was able to attain full guardianship and for a few years after her mum’s death, Carson bounced around foster homes. She had no siblings and found it to be a lonely and frustrating time, trying to convince complete strangers to love her for the sake of a roof over her head.
Things would always start out well, but even the most patient of people found dealing with a scared and damaged child beyond their capability. Carson was angry and difficult, eventually branded a troublemaker and sent back like a catalogue return. Only Tom stuck with her. He endured the tantrums and gave her the security she craved. As she grew older, they built an affectionate, if not haphazard relationship. He became the father figure she never had, someone to rely on, and for that she would always be grateful.
That didn’t mean he wasn’t somewhat to blame for the direction her life took.
Carson killed her first alien when she was sixteen. It almost felt like a rite of passage or something. Normal kids left school with dreams of university or starting a prosperous career. She, on the other hand, inadvertently became an Invasive Species Control Agent. The alien had been her biology teacher. She’d always wanted to be a surgeon. The human body fascinated her and she excelled in class much to the annoyance of her peers.
Mr Walker took her under his wing and she found him attractive in a schoolgirl-crush kind of way. With long, dark hair that he wore tied back in a braid and intense brown eyes, he showered her with praise and attention. He spoke to her like an adult, and eventually, like the hormone-crazed teenager she was, she found herself dreaming about what it would be like to be more than just his student. To be his equal and his lover.
Unfortunately, Mr Walker was thinking the same thing. He was a scout. One of the first waves of aliens sent to infiltrate and observe Earth. His role had been to report back on human weaknesses, but he decided he liked the planet too much to leave and wanted to claim a mate. A sixteen year old with no family seemed to fit his requirements and Carson’s fate was sealed.
In the darkest depths of sleep, she still heard her classmates’ screams as Mr Walker shed his artificial human skin and rampaged through the science lab. She’d hid below one of the benches, trying to block out the sound of his teeth and claws systematically pulling the other students apart, knowing it was only a matter of time before he reached her. Even at such a young age, she had an insane urge to fight. Her survival instincts kicked in, and she knew that becoming like him, would be worse than death.
When she stood up and faced the man she’d professed to love, she saw something she never believed possible. Gone was his smooth skin and charming smile. Instead, some frantic lizard-creature slavered and hissed at her. Half his face was missing, or at least contorted in such a way that it looked sunken inside his skull. One eye was red and his nose rested against his lip in an upturned snout. Scales sprouted from one cheek and his mouth curved cruelly down on one side.
Carson remembered thinking she only had one chance to escape. One precious minute to act before her life would be forever changed. She switched on the gas-flow to the Bunsen burner that was connected to one of the science room desks.
‘You’re mine, Carson. We’ll form a new species. Start a new blood line for this dying planet,’ Mr Walker hissed. ‘I can’t maintain this fake human form anymore. My people have called me back to my planet, but I won’t leave. I’ll prove to the others that our species can successfully cross-breed with the humans rather than killing them.’
Carson looked down at her feet, frantically searching for something to ignite a flame. The smell of gas filled her nostrils and made her giddy, but she managed to push through the acute sensation to vomit and grab the lighter that had fallen from one of her dead classmate’s bags.
As Mr Walker advanced, Carson sparked the flame.
‘Stay back,’ she warned.
‘Silly little girl, you love me as much as I love you. I’m still Mr Walker. You’re not going to hurt me. We belong together.’
Carson fumbled with shaking hands for the small tin of deodorant she kept in her blazer pocket. She clicked the lighter and pressed against the aerosol, which sent a jet of fire into the mutated creature’s face. He fell back screaming and cursing. His scaly skin smouldered as he weaved and staggered into a display case full of chemicals. Most of them were flammable and Carson managed to duck beneath a desk before a fireball ignited the alien like a firework and then took out most of the science lab.
Some years later, Carson discovered that the scouts were the weaker species of alien invader, which was how she’d managed to defeat Mr Walker. Unlike a desquamater, the scouters lived inside an artificial human skin disguise as they struggled to adjust to the Earth’s atmosphere, which is what prompted the second wave of aliens to adapt and us
e real human skin. Had that not been the case, she would have certainly been turned into a hybrid that day.
Instead, she found herself bound to a secret agency that covered up the incident, blaming a freak chemical explosion for the death of Mr Walker and her classmates. The fire covered up all traces of the alien and Carson was too shocked to disagree with any of the lies that Tom told her head teacher.
Standing at the school’s memorial service was harder than facing Mr Walker, twisted snout and all. Carson felt one hundred pairs of eyes fixated on her as the deceased student’s grieving parents all wondered why she survived and not their precious son or daughter. The guilt was so severe; it felt like a garrotte around her throat. One that never loosened, no matter how much time passed.
Two things changed that day.
The first was that she abandoned her dreams of going to medical school. She realised the closest she was going to get to a surgical theatre was on the operating table and not in charge of it. The second was that Tom became her boss and she had to call him Chief Melman whenever anyone else was around. She was exposed to things she could barely comprehend, but she was a good agent. She was naturally agile and hunting down murderous aliens gave her a purpose and an opportunity for vengeance.
Carson retreated out of her reverie as she hobbled back to her desk. Blake was sitting at his and he raised an eyebrow, his silent way of asking if everything went ok with the chief. Carson nodded. She would have a chance to redeem herself for letting the jaktten escape and Tom would simmer down eventually.
Carson forced her dark memories back inside the locked part of her brain. She’d learned the hard way that although most physical injuries healed, it was the psychological ones that hurt most, and they were best left buried deep.
17
Blake watched Carson and Chief Melman conversing inside the office with interest. He wished he’d left the door ajar slightly, as then he would’ve heard their conversation. Something in their body language told him that after he’d left the room, the atmosphere had changed. Carson seemed to have a knack of bringing out fatherly instincts in men. Even a hard-arse like Melman wasn’t immune to her charm and Blake doubted she received the harsh reprimand that she deserved. Maybe the chief’s feelings for Carson were a closer match to his own. Could the old man be interested in her romantically? He was a decent, unattached guy, and he obviously cared about Carson, but how deeply and to what extent? The walls of the office were solid and even with his enhanced hearing, Blake only picked up muffled voices through the glass door. There was no way he’d be able to search for that damn list today.
Carson gave him a small smile when she eventually hobbled out of the office. He wondered if she really was as ok as she kept insisting. She had to be in a tremendous amount of pain, as those grenades were heavy-duty weaponry and she shouldn’t have been anywhere close to an exploding one. Blake studied her face. The skin around her nose still looked sore and blistered. Some of her short, dark hair stuck out from behind her ears where it had been scorched and her mouth was downturned in a pout. If they had been anywhere but the office, he would have reached for her. She looked as if she was seconds away from breaking down. Her blue eyes were clear and watery, but he knew touching her would be a mistake. Especially after last night.
As if sensing his continued scrutiny, she lifted her chin and met his gaze.
‘What?’ she asked.
‘Did the chief give you a hard time?’
‘A little,’ she said with a small shrug. ‘What needs doing?’
‘There’s a shit load of CCTV footage that needs reviewing.’
‘I’ll do it.’
‘Really?’
Carson hated being confined to a desk and the fact she was readily volunteering to stay where she was confirmed Blake’s suspicions of how much discomfort she was in.
‘Is there a problem with me reviewing the tapes?’ she snapped. ‘You always said I had a good eye for detail.’
‘You do, and I’m not going to turn down the help.’
‘Good.’
Blake looked down at the papers on his desk, unable to pick up his trail of thought now that Carson sat beside him. His mind was consumed with last night instead and he needed to clear the air before he lost his nerve. He cleared his throat and rubbed his stubbly chin.
‘Hey Carson…about last night…you know, before I left.’
‘What about it?’
He recognised the clear warning in her tone, but chose to ignore it.
‘Do you want to talk about it?’
‘Nope.’
‘You sure?’
‘There’s nothing to say. Is there?’
‘I guess not.’
‘It was just a momentary lapse on both our parts. It will never happen again.’
Blake struggled to hide his disappointment, as he refused to believe their kiss meant nothing to her.
‘It wasn’t a lapse,’ he started to say, but she cut him off.
‘Don’t romanticise a chemical reaction. After a mission, I normally feel horny and I bet you do too. It’s the adrenaline rush or something like that. Usually, I find a willing stranger to scratch that particular itch. You just happened to be there instead.’
‘Scratch an itch?’
Blake couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
‘It’s not only guys that enjoy having sex,’ Carson replied coolly.
‘So you’re telling me you have sex with strangers?’
She lifted her chin and there was the glint of defiance in her blue eyes.
‘Yes, don’t you?’
‘That’s not the point.’
‘Yes, that’s the point. There’s no Prince Charming to sweep me off my feet, and I can’t live like a nun. I have needs you know, and the guys I meet in bars understand there’s nothing more to it than sex.’
Blake couldn’t even begin to entertain the notion of her sleeping with strangers as it made his inner-beast howl, but he understood what she was saying. He couldn’t remember the name of the last woman he’d slept with or even if he’d bothered to ask for it.
‘We all have needs,’ he said gruffly.
Carson lowered her eyes and stared at the computer screen, signalling the end of the conversation. Blake hated that he couldn’t be the man she needed or deserved, but what he hated more was that every time they finished a mission, he would be picturing her in some faceless man’s arms instead of his.
18
Carson sat back from her computer screen and stretched her arms above her head. She winced as the blistered scabs split and quickly lowered her arms again. She’d been reviewing the CCTV tapes for over an hour and her eyes were tingling from staring at grainy images. The warehouse used for Malcolm’s disposal was in a derelict industrial park and there was a first-class surveillance system on site. However, an alien had never escaped, so there were a good few miles surrounding the building where the team were blind. Their CCTV didn’t cover the surrounding forests and she hoped that wherever the jaktten had gone, he’d avoided the town centre.
Carson finally caught a break while trawling through the local council street camera footage. She watched as a big, black wolf crossed the road near Brentwood station and headed further out of town. Her stomach twisted as the animal on the tape made its way to freedom. There was a definite limp to his hind leg and it was a shame the bullet she’d hit him with was a regular one and not an exploding cartridge. That would have taken his entire leg off. Carson consoled herself that a bullet wound could prove fatal if not treated. Maybe the alien-wolf had died in the forest somewhere.
‘I see your perseverance has finally paid off,’ Blake said, settling into the chair next to hers. ‘You found him.’
Carson’s heart fluttered at his interruption. They hadn’t spoken since she’d basically told him she was a slut that slept with random strangers, which couldn’t be further from the truth. The words had tasted bitter on her tongue when she’d tried to justify those infrequent sexual e
ncounters. Kissing Blake was nothing like those other men.
‘Will you STOP creeping up on me?’ she snapped.
‘I didn’t.’
‘You did.’
‘Didn’t. Do you know your arm is bleeding?’
Carson looked down at her right elbow where a thin trickle of blood seeped out of a broken scab and was working its way down her arm.
‘Oh, crap. Can you get the first aid kit, please?’
Blake didn’t reply. He seemed frozen in place as his clear green eyes remained riveted on the blood that slid towards her wrist.
‘Blake?’
She tried snapping her fingers in front of his eyes.
‘Earth to Blake. Anyone there?’
His tongue flicked out as he wet his lips. For a split second, Carson thought he was going to grab her arm and lick the blood away. He hadn’t blinked in a really long time and it was starting to freak her out.
‘Blake,’ she said, and this time she kicked his chair leg, which seemed to bring him out of his trance. ‘Snap out of it.’
‘What happened?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know. You zoned out.’
His green eyes appeared glazed and his face was flushed.
‘I think the sight of your blood made me queasy,’ he said.
Carson raised her eyebrows, but that hurt so she just pushed the scab closer to his face
‘What this tiny bit of blood? You’ve seen worse than this,’ she said.
‘I know. I’m sorry. I think I’m just hungry or something. I’ll get you a bandage.’
Blake rubbed his forehead before getting up from the chair. Carson watched him walk away and the sight of his broad shoulders and lean hips was enough to bring on a flush of her own. He returned with a glass of water, a small bandage, and some tape. He carefully cleaned the blood away and efficiently wrapped a dressing around the wound, although she noted that he did not meet her eyes as he worked.
‘There you go, all done. Now show me where the jaktten went.’