The Alien Surrogate (The Klaskians Series Book 1)

by Amelia Wilson

  Still, the grip of his hands on the gun was steady, and he did not waver at pointing the barrel down at the small of the back. He fired the shot, and she was back in the present moment.

  “You did not tell me that your girlfriend was a beautiful young lady, Avice!” his father boomed, clapping him on the shoulder.

  Yarra stood in the middle of the room with all of them, hoping that her face did not belie her actual emotions. This was the first time that a vision had repeated itself. Was her precognition trying to warn her of Avice? She did not know.

  His mother congratulated the both of them, though Yarra did not know what there was to be congratulated for.

  They seemed happy, no…, they seemed relieved that Avice had found himself a lady friend in Yarra.

  His mother went on to confirm Yarra’s thoughts, saying that Avice was too busy with his work and study to care about anything else.

  “Work?” Yarra asked, between buttering her bread. “You didn’t tell me you worked.”

  It was just a pleasantly curious exchange, but she saw his father’s face darkened. Avice looked at his meatloaf and shrugged. His mother looked as though she had said something she should not have said.

  “No…, no dear. What I meant was work in general. Coursework, assignments and all that,” her mother tried to avert the situation.

  Yarra nodded to make them feel relieved. But in her heart, she knew that something was increasingly bizarre about the Selleck family.

  Her suspicions grew when she saw that Mrs. Selleck too had a similar tattoo to Avice and his father. A tip of the blade snaking from the fold of her shirt just below her left collarbone!

  She resolved to ask Avice about the tattoo on their way back to the college.

  In the car, Avice was unusually quiet. After the mention of his ‘work,’ he withdrew into a shell of silence.

  “Is everything okay?” Yarra asked.

  “Yeah,” Avice said glumly. “I hope my parents weren’t too overbearing, baby. They’re just too happy to see me come home with a girl like you. Mom almost gave up on me finding a girlfriend altogether!”

  “Nahhh, they were awesome. Your mother’s a lovely cook,” Yarra said, keeping the conversation light at first.

  “It has been months since I have had an awesome home cooked meal. You saved my life!”

  Avice laughed at this. He seemed more at ease. Yarra took this as an opportunity to pursue the topic of the tattoo. Then the oddest thing happened. In her mind, she had formed the question – “Why do you and your parents have the same tattoos?” But try as she might, she could not verbalize the words.

  There was an anchor underneath her tongue which prevented her from uttering those words, as though she had lost the capabilities to do so.

  Her mind became frazzled. She tried another alternative; to ask him about tattoos in general.

  “Do you like tattoos?” she asked, the words slipping out quicker than she had expected.

  Avice looked at her in perplexity. “Well, I guess they are cool. Why? Do you plan on getting one?” he asked.

  “No,” Yarra asked. She asked him whether he had any tattoos on his body. The question came out effortlessly, not blocked by any mysterious forces.

  Avice’s answer surprised her. “Nope. No tattoos. My parents don’t like people having them.”

  Yarra stared at him in disbelief. She could easily see the gray scale shaded tip of the blade snaking out of his shirt. She tried to ask him about the marking on his body, but again, she could not form the question.

  Try as she might, she could neither speak of this mysterious marking on his body nor point it out with her fingers. There was a barrier between them that prevented this from happening. What the hell was happening?’

  “Are you okay?” Avice asked with an amused look on his face. “You look constipated!”

  Try as she might, she could not form verbalize, or act out that she could see the tattoo on his body. She tried to speak slowly. “I. Can. See. Your…” but the final word, ‘tattoo’ refused to leave her tongue. Her tongue was laden with the inability to speak of it, much like a mental taboo.

  “See my what?” he frowned.

  “Nothing,” Yarra said quietly.

  That night, they had sex for the first time. She was still reeling over the repetition of the vision of her death. Compounded with this was the fact that there was a block from speaking of his tattoo.

  A germ of an idea formed in her mind. She would pretend to caress his body, and carve out the shape of his tattoo with her finger. At least that would allow her vision be acknowledged by Avice.

  If only it was that easy. When Avice undressed before her, he revealed a surprisingly supple, lean body. He often dressed in clothes bigger than his body size.

  Never had she seen the way that he had developed a beautiful upper body, which snaked down to narrow hips. His chest and abdomen were toned, not ostentatiously like those beefcakes in the gym.

  These were muscles he continuously used – the sculpted arms showed defined muscles often seen in fighters, those who practiced a particular martial art. His body was not for show. It was the body of a combatant.

  But for what purpose?

  The hypnotizing allure of his body was effaced at the presence of his tattoo. True to Yarra’s prediction, it was indeed a blade. The greyness of the blade seemed to shine from the moonlight that flooded through the windows of his room.

  The blade ran down his left pectoral, ending with the hilt below the nipple. The handle of the blade was painted blood red, and a disembodied hand gripped at it.

  On the blade were etched words – almost like the ancient hieroglyphs she had seen in her Egyptian studies. Or was it Mesopotamian? They were random – some symbols, and some words from languages she did not know.

  “Why are you staring at me like that?” Avice whispered, coming closer to her.

  He smiled his awkward smile and wrapped his hands around her waist.

  Yarra could not bring herself to refer to her tattoo. Each time her hand snaked along the boundaries of his tattoo, it slipped and refused to follow her intended trajectory. The tattoo on Avice’s body refused to be acknowledged by any other, yet it existed.

  “N…nothing,” Yarra lied.

  “You have been distant since the lunch at my parents’. Are you having second thoughts about dating me after meeting them?” he asked with a laugh.

  She shook her head and kissed him. Only then did nothing else matter. All thoughts about the tattoo, the worry of him killing her, was completely effaced. When they had sex, she felt like a completely different person. He took her patiently, and passionately. And she wanted nothing else.

  Chapter-3

  8 Months Ago

  The visions of her death became too frequent to ignore. They came in her dreams, and even in states of wakefulness. With each repetition, the vision became acutely sharper.

  The image had been vaguely obscure during its first occurrence. Now, she knew that exact date, the clothes that she would be wearing that night, and she even knew the type of silver choker he wore around his neck during the night of the murder.

  Aside from sight and sound, she could also smell his cologne and the faintest hint of the sharp smell of gunpowder after the shot. All she could not see was the bullet hitting her, or anything after the initial explosion.

  Avice was not smiling, nor was he crying in the vision. His face was devoid of any expression. All he had was apathy at the prospect of killing her. Personally, Yarra would have felt better if he had shown any emotions.

  At least then, she would know why.

  They were sitting in a restaurant when the latest vision happened. It was four months into their relationship. Not much had changed except for their love for each other growing.

  Putting aside her vision, she was beginning to trust him more. She began to see a life together with him in that grey area of irony.

  Celebrating his birthday, she pushed a small, emerald
green box wrapped in gold ribbons towards him as he ate.

  “Whatsiss?” his voice came out in a muffle, mouth still full with lasagna.

  She laughed at his silliness. Avice had never been one to be taught proper etiquette. It was what made him dear to her.

  “Just a simple birthday present,” she said. He had not requested for a gift, but Yarra knew what he needed.

  Avice gulped and tore at the ribbons. A hushed silence between them, he opened the box slowly, for the benefit of surprise. Nestled in the middle of the black foam in the box was a silver chain with a simple blade hanging from its edge.

  He pinched the looped chain and fished it out. The orange light from above made the silver glimmer. Yarra watched him with dogged determination to see the nuances in his eyes.

  She had been finding a way, almost to the point of obsession to communicate to him her awareness of his tattoo. Try as she might, when she took a picture of him shirtless, her friends did not see what she saw, or they too, were also rendered unable to say anything about the tattoo.

  The blade on the choker had a straight edge instead of a serrated one tattooed on Avice’s body. She saw him gulp a little, and then force a smile upon his face.

  “It’s beautiful,” he complimented her. She noted the hardness of his voice. “But why does it have a blade at the end?”

  She could not say that it was to mimic the tattoo on his body. To say that was to acknowledge the symbol, was impossible. Instead, she shrugged and said, “Just because.”

  Awkwardly, Avice donned on the choker. It was beautiful how the tip of the blade on the choker touched the tip of his tattoo, like a form of communication transcending the need for words.

  Yarra knew then, that she was not avoiding the road to her inevitable demise. She was leading Avice towards the reality of her vision.

  Chapter-4

  6 Months Ago

  It was the half year point of their relationship. The visions of her demise were occurring every day now. As they had become more frequent, there were now no significant disparities between the latest visions.

  More like a broken record, it replayed in her mind in short bursts of flashes, always occurring when Avice was in close proximity with her.

  Their relationship was a beautiful one. Never had Yarra receive such attention from Avice. He was sensitive as he was caring; and she was his number one priority.

  Aside from the fact that her lips went numb when she wanted to refer to his tattoo, nothing else seemed out of the ordinary.

  All that was about to change the day they walked home from the bar late one night.

  Avice seemed to have drunk a little too much beer, and he was swaying a little. He had one over Yarra’s shoulder as they walked down a deserted pavement.

  It was a twenty minute walk towards their campus grounds, often littered with late night joggers or people taking midnight strolls. But tonight it was quiet and damp, following an earlier heavy rain.

  Only their footsteps scrunched on the sodden twigs and leaves on the sidewalk.

  As they walked, Yarra’s mind began flooding with information.

  In her vision, she saw them walking towards the end of the pavement. When they turned the corner, they were attacked by two thugs bigger in size than they were.

  She saw how they tackled him to the ground and punched her in the face before running off with her the purse in her hand.

  When the vision was over, she gripped his hands tightly. They were due to reach the end of the pathway in twenty or so steps.

  “Let’s… let’s go the other way,” Yarra said, stopping in the middle. She was shivering not because of the cold, but the impending danger that awaited them at the turn of the corner.

  “Why?” Avice slurred slightly. He had a goofy smile on his face.

  “We will take the longer way back. It is more romantic,” Yarra lied horribly.

  Avice looked at her strangely.

  “Baby, I want you in bed with me as soon as possible,” he pouted.

  If it wasn’t for the severity of the situation, Yarra would have found it cute. They were ten steps away from the corner.

  She tried to pull him away from the walkway, but his walk became stronger, purposeful and impatient. Again, the same vision repeated itself in her mind confirming the impending dander.

  “Yarra, what’s gotten into you?” Avice raised his voice suddenly.

  She was too flustered to speak. She could not tell him what she saw in her vision. It was an innate fear that he might label her a freak when her prediction proved to be accurate.

  Stopping and pulling at his arm, they were five steps away from the corner of the building. The light from the pavement ended here, and the rest of the way till their campus grounds would be only illuminated by the stars and the crescent moon tonight.

  “Yarra, let’s go!” he said.

  “No!” she shouted, realizing that they had just revealed their presence to the ambushers.

  That did it. Yarra watched her vision come true, albeit slightly differently. Instead of them being attacked when they made a turn at the corner, two big sized men jumped out from the darkness and tried to tackle them.

  Avice’s back was turned against the attackers, but he reacted with speedy precision. He pushed Yarra backward and turned to face the two men.

  In her vision, she saw one of the men wrestling Avice to the ground. That did not happen. Instead, Avice delivered a deft punch on the man’s jaw.

  There was a subtle sound of a crack which echoed through the night. The first attacker, easily almost twice the size of her boyfriend, fell to the floor in a sickening crunch.

  The second man was shocked at the force of Avice’s punch. He tried to run away, but he pounced on him like a predator zeroing in on prey. She saw him tackled the man to the ground and deliver repeated punches on the man’s face.

  The second attacker was so distraught and in pain, he begged for mercy. Still, Avice continued with his barrages, unrelenting.

  “Avice, stop!” Yarra screamed. She rushed towards him, jumping over the first guy. He was cradling his broken jaw.

  He did not seem to hear her. His right hand was raised to rain down on the guy’s face when Avice caught it.

  The momentum of his blow made her whole body move forward, and Yarra topped on the pavements, rolling a few times. She yelled out in pain.

  Seeing her fall forward snapped Avice back into reality.

  “Oh, shit! Baby!” Avice exclaimed.

  He got up off the man beaten to a pulp, and moved towards Yarra who was groaning on the floor in pain.

  “I’m fine,” she said when he came closer. “I’m fine, Avice.”

  It was then when she realized the color of his eyes. They were no longer the friendly brown assurance he always had. Instead, his pupils had a rusty maroon discoloration, as though possessed by a strange force. She watched in awe and fright as the maroon faded off and reverted back to its original light tinged brown hue.

  “You sure?” he asked again. Only, it wasn’t the voice she was used to, it that honey-tinged sweetness. It was now hoarse, as though the owner of the voice was a completely different person.

  All she could do was a nod and let him pull her up. They left the two men on the ground to fend for themselves.

  She realized then that there was more to Avice than met the eye.

  They did not speak until Avice had showered the spatters of the blood off his face. There was nothing to be done with the red streaks on his shirt.

  It lay on the ground in front of her, an inhuman talisman symbolizing Avice’s earlier brute strength. Tantamount to her fears, it had become creepier the way his personality reverted back to the awkward shyness of a young adult who would never hurt a fly.

  “Isn’t it weird?” Avice said as he came out of the shower. His tone was innocent, tinged in amazement. “You insisted on taking a different path back home. It was as if the universe was warning you about those two dudes there!” />
  Yarra passed off a weak laugh and looked away. “Yeah, but it is a good thing you could protect us. I… I didn’t know you could fight like that.”

  It was Avice’s turn to be quiet. Out of the corner of her eyes, Yarra saw his left hand trail along his tattoo. His hand settled below the nipple where the red handle was engraved onto his skin, before sliding upwards along the visceral, grey serrated knife. His fingers then pinched at the choker as an anchor.