I headed to Hannah’s bedroom and found that there wasn’t any light spilling out from under her door. She was in bed and hopefully fast asleep.
I cracked open the door, and when there was no reaction, I knew she was asleep. So I opened the door farther, enough to let light from the hallway illuminate parts of her room. I scanned her room until I spotted what I was looking for—her purse.
I crept into her room, opened her purse, and pulled out her mace. I’d use it to disable the alien. I’d blind his all-knowing and all-seeing eye.
Of course, there was the chance that his eye wouldn’t respond to the mace in the same way human eyes did, but I believed it would. I’d stared at that eye many times, and I had the unshakable conviction that it was a terribly fragile piece of biology. Far more fragile than our own eyes. It was the alien’s way of interacting with the outside world, of understanding it, and of analyzing it. I had no doubt that his eye went beyond the capabilities of all our five senses put together. The rest of his body looked impermeable, but not his eye.
Still, the mace would only stun him; it wouldn’t kill him. That would come next. While the alien was dazed, I’d go for the fire poker to finish the job.
Back in the den, I shut off my cell phone and stuck it in the desk drawer. Then I pulled the gold card from my pocket and tucked it under a couch cushion—under the exact spot where I was usually stationed while in the house. If Abel checked on my location using the gold card, he’d find me in my normal spot.
Then I headed back out to my car and pulled out of the garage. But before driving away, I stared at my house. Would I get to see Jake and Hannah grow up? A wave of sadness coursed through my body. If Jenny didn’t recover from the cancer, would Jake and Hannah be left without either of us?
Before the enormity of my failings as a father and husband could crush me, I drove away.
ABEL
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Tracking down the sample hadn’t taken much time. It turned out there were only a few national databanks that gathered information on DNA samples.
I found the test result in a databank in Seattle and wiped clean all evidence of its existence. Then I traced the sample back to a lab in Northridge and wiped out any evidence that the lab had ever had it or tested it. Of course, the Northridge lab still had the physical sample, but with that I had a choice about how to proceed. I could hire an employee to dispose of it and the technician who’d tested it—the same employee I’d hire to dispose of Eddie. Or I could do nothing. After a sample was tested, the lab’s procedure was to trash it. I had learned that all the lab’s samples went undifferentiated into biohazard waste containers, which meant it would be nearly impossible to isolate and resurrect one sample. In addition, the trash would be picked up in two days and carted away to a dump, where it would be mixed in with thousands of pounds of other biohazard waste. This wouldn’t take care of the technician, but without the sample, the technician would be just another nutjob claiming aliens were here on Earth.
After wiping clean the test results, I hunted through Eddie’s list of friends, relatives, neighbors, and former employers at warp speed, fueled by Kalera, looking for someone he’d entrust with blackmail evidence—for as I said, I was sure he had a backup plan. I also searched through all his movements, Internet searches, and cell phone calls, as well as those of his friends and family.
In the end, although there were a few candidates he might have trusted with the evidence, one stood out: a former employee of the LA Times who currently owned a rather popular news website. The clincher was that Eddie had visited this man just prior to heading over here. I could tell, because though he’d been careful to dump the gold card before he’d gone to Northridge, he’d picked it up again before going to his former colleague’s house.
I called Eddie’s colleague and told him that if he didn’t immediately burn whatever Eddie had given him, he’d lose his website and his entire business.
The man’s voice quavered at the threat, but he stood firm for a couple of minutes, asking questions, and getting no answers. He didn’t cave in until I told him to check his website and his bank accounts.
His website—his business and livelihood—was gone, as was any trace of it, and his bank balances were all at zero.
I monitored the man’s frantic Internet searches. He checked servers, backup servers, and all his failsafe systems to find out what had happened to his business. He also checked his bank accounts, confirming that every one of them had a zero balance.
When he came back on the phone, his voice cracked with distress and anguish.
I told him he’d never get his business back up or see his money again until he complied with my request.
He didn’t need any more convincing.
I set up a direct video stream from his smartphone and watched him burn the evidence.
When that was done, and with his voice still cracking, he asked me about Eddie. He wanted to know if I’d killed his friend. The man was compassionate. Again, this was the species’ empathy coming through loud and clear. Maybe this characteristic really would be enough to overcome the species’ weaknesses. And if I got a chance to come back to this planet to harvest the new drug, I’d get a chance to find out.
But I didn’t answer the man. The curvature drive was waiting.
Ten minutes later, I had completed another systems check and had determined that the drive would function perfectly.
There were only three more things I needed to do before I left. The first one I did quickly. Thanks to the Kalera, whose effects unfortunately were rapidly beginning to wear off, I’d finally come up with a way to spin the Rose David investigation in a completely different direction. Once that was done, I went on to the second task.
I covered up the new digital trails that I’d left in my wake over the last couple of hours. I’d have to do this one more time, after I accomplished my third task, which was to dispose of the human. This was going to be more complicated than I’d wanted.
But I wondered: Was it really so complicated? Or was it the waning effect of the Kalera, and the commensurate loss of intelligence, that led me to believe it was too complicated? I didn’t know.
And I also suddenly found myself doubting that I’d taken care of every loose end.
So I took a third Kalera tablet.
I wasn’t addicted.
But I had to be sure all was in order before I left for Tracea.
Which reminded me. I packed the rest of this batch of Kalera, in case I ran into trouble during the trip and needed heightened intelligence to solve it.
Then I waited for the Kalera to kick in before reviewing my plan for disposing of the human.
EDDIE
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
When I got up to Mulholland, I was still feeling a deep, heart-wrenching sadness about leaving my kids without a father. My body felt cold and empty, and my limbs were numb. Except for the sadness coursing through me, I felt as though I was already dead. This did nothing to help with my confidence. My plan was already amateurish enough; without the confidence that I could pull it off, it seemed doomed to failure.
But I had to move forward.
It was kill or be killed.
I made my way down the hillside along winding, narrow roads until I arrived at my destination: a street that had direct access to a forested area above Abel’s neighborhood. The patch of land abutted the back of Abel’s property down below. I had discovered this way to access the property way back when I was researching the house’s history—in the innocent days before I blackmailed Ben into giving me a shot at the “investment” job.
I parked, then hiked down through the woods. Fifteen minutes later, I caught sight of Abel’s house. As I moved closer, I wondered if the alien was still engrossed in whatever he’d been doing when I’d interrupted him.
The pale moonlight lit my way to the edge of the woods, which gave way to Abel’s back yard and the odd stone fountain. The patio doors were open. As usual
.
I looked over the house and didn’t see anything to stop me from going forward. A few lights were on, as they always were when I arrived. Still, I hesitated before moving forward. I clutched the mace in one hand, as if it was truly a life-saving weapon. I wished that it was.
After taking a deep breath and trying to convince myself that I had a shot at surviving—and maybe I did, if Abel was still distracted by whatever he’d been fixated on—I ran through the yard, past the fountain. Up close, the fountain looked like it had been buffed and spruced up since I’d last stared at it. But strangely enough, it looked more metallic, not less.
I hurried across the patio and into the living room, where my eyes fell on the hallway that led to Abel’s office and the harvesting room. If it hadn’t been for the one time I’d seen Abel enter and exit the living room using the staircase, I would’ve immediately headed down the hallway, looking to ambush Abel in either his office or the harvesting room. But now I had to consider the possibility that he was upstairs.
I didn’t consider it for more than a couple of seconds though. I decided to go with the hallway because I’d last seen the alien in his office. I grabbed the poker from the fireplace and crept toward the hallway.
Just before I got there, I heard a high-pitched hum. I whipped around, looking for the source, and as I did, the hum became unbearably loud.
Was it a burglar alarm? Was I trapped?
The hum suddenly grew impossibly loud and was now reverberating through my body. The penetrating vibrations made my insides feel like they were turning into jello.
I panicked—I was being liquefied.
But there was no red cone, and I wasn’t encased in red light.
And when I looked down at my body, I saw that I was fine. Intact. My insides were vibrating from the deafening hum, but I was otherwise okay. The only pain I felt was coming from the sheer strength of the sound pushing at my body and through it.
I glanced down the hallway. Nothing had changed.
I looked out the patio door—and my breath caught in my throat.
The metallic fountain was now glowing—a deeply luminescent blue. The hum was emanating from it, and as the hum got louder, the blue glowed even more deeply.
A second later, the fountain was gone.
And so was Abel—I had never been more sure of anything in my life. And, as if to confirm this revelation, I was suddenly filled to the brim with sweet and utter relief. I let out a deep breath, and took in another.
The alien was gone, and I was still alive.
The odd fountain had been Abel’s interstellar transport—and he had just used it to get the hell out of Dodge. But why? Why had he left? Could he have felt threatened by the DNA sample? Had word of its discovery already leaked out?
I didn’t believe that for a second. The blackmail was a way of protecting myself, but it was never a winning strategy. The best it could ever do was buy me time. As I stared at the empty space where the fountain had stood, I had no doubt that the alien had chosen to leave. He hadn’t been forced.
I was one lucky man. I’d survived my employment in the alien abduction business.
ABEL
CHAPTER FORTY
As soon as the Kalera took over, I realized I didn’t need to dispose of the human at all. I could head home—because once I was gone, he wasn’t going to reveal my existence. Why would he if I was no longer a threat to him? How would it benefit him? It wouldn’t. His reaction to my departure would be relief and joy. Relief that he was no longer working a job for which he was unsuited. And joy that I hadn’t disposed of him. He’d be as happy to start his new life as I was to start mine.
The curvature drive was working nicely. I relaxed and glanced over at my stash of Kalera tablets. I wondered how long they would last me.
EDDIE
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
When I walked into my house, I was met with silence again. But the silence no longer felt ominous. It felt inviting. My family was safe and secure, sleeping in peace, and I was home.
As in home free.
I stood there, letting the feeling of liberation wash over me. I felt as if I’d been released from prison. I didn’t feel on guard, like the other shoe was about to drop. I felt calm, my body no longer shot through with adrenaline, which had kept every inch of me jumpy and apprehensive.
I was no longer chained to a vile job.
But although I felt physically secure, I didn’t feel that same sense of liberation in my heart and soul—and I wondered if I ever would. I had committed terrible sins. And though I told myself I’d committed them out of desperation, they were sins nonetheless. I’d have to push them away and learn to enjoy the outer peace I now felt. I would rededicate myself to my family and focus on them, rather than on a road I wished I’d never taken.
I headed to the bedroom, and when I entered, I saw Jenny sleeping. She was far braver than I was. She’d made it through the first rounds of chemotherapy with no complaints, and she’d worked the demanding production job even though she was far from healed. She’d never been desperate about her situation, and she hadn’t made any stupid decisions. And she’d put up with my lies, even when it was clear that I’d been up to no good.
As I changed out of my clothes and into my pajamas, I wondered when I should tell her about my return to the ranks of the unemployed. She’d be happy to know that I was no longer living a lie. Of course, I’d have to explain why money wasn’t a problem when I had no job. And money wouldn’t be a problem for quite a while. I supposed it was possible that I’d land a new job with a high enough salary that it wouldn’t seem like we had more money than we should.
No, that wasn’t possible.
No job would give me the kind of salary that would explain how I could pay our medical bills and Jake and Hannah’s college expenses in full every semester. But this was a high-class problem to have. It was a blessing that I’d be able to pay for these things. Couldn’t I take the good that had come out of the job? I’d helped my family, and though it hadn’t been pretty, it had worked. And another good thing had come out of it, too: I had finally learned to adapt.
I slid into bed, careful not to disturb Jenny, and wondered if I’d have to hide the real source of our money forever. I would, wouldn’t I? For who in their right mind would ever believe that aliens were abducting humans?
*
When I woke up, Jenny was already out of bed. I checked the clock. It was eight, which meant the kids were at school and she’d probably already left for her doctor’s appointment.
In the kitchen, as soon as I saw the note to call Dr. Eisner, nausea welled up in my stomach. Abel was gone, but it was still possible that his handiwork wasn’t. My guilt over Hannah was another thing I’d have to store in the back of my mind. For what else could I do except hope that whatever Abel had harvested from her wouldn’t leave her damaged for life?
I called Dr. Eisner and made an appointment. Of course, I knew the doctor wouldn’t find anything. That was how the harvesting worked. But I wondered if I should say something to Eisner. Tell him to do a more thorough examination. I didn’t have a reason to ask for that—I couldn’t tell him I suspected that Hannah had been abducted by aliens—but I could lie. Once again, I could lie.
I could pull Eisner aside and tell him I’d observed some things about Hannah’s behavior that worried me. But what could those things be, and what if Eisner asked Hannah about them? She’d tell him I was lying. And in the end, would a more thorough examination—a blood panel, an EKG, an MRI—reveal anything?
I was sure it wouldn’t. Abel had never worried about a target going to a doctor.
But just because an examination wouldn’t reveal any evidence of the harvest, it didn’t mean the harvest didn’t do any damage. This damage might manifest itself later in Hannah’s life—years later. And I’d have to live my life with this time bomb waiting to go off.
More importantly, Hannah would have to live with it.
After making the ap
pointment, I went into the den to check on the gold card, the one piece of evidence I hadn’t given to Larry. I reached under the couch cushion, but it wasn’t there. I panicked, then realized I must’ve shoved it farther back.
I lifted the cushion. The gold card was gone—and my panic was back. Had Jenny found the device? But if she did, what difference did that make? The alien was gone. Sure, I’d have to lie as to what the gold card was, but that would be the end of it. There wouldn’t be the need for an ongoing cover story.
My panic subsided, and when it did, I noticed that there was something under the cushion. A small fleck of gold dust no bigger than a dime. Had Abel remotely disposed of the device? Of course he had.
I reached for the gold dust, then stopped myself, thinking I should preserve it, for this was the only trace of the gold card left. Just in case, I thought. But just in case of what?
There was no reason to preserve it.
I reached for the gold dust, and as soon as I touched it, it dissipated and disappeared.
So, Abel had gotten rid of this evidence completely. And right then I wondered if he’d gotten rid of the other evidence, too.
I went over to the desk drawer, fished out my cell phone, and turned it on. I had five messages from Larry. I didn’t listen to them, but called him straight away, understanding that something was up, and that it was urgent.
Larry picked up on the first ring. “Why didn’t you call me?” he said. “I thought you were dead.”
“Why? What happened?”
“Someone with a hell of a lot of power called and threatened me. They must be connected to the Rose David investigation—I don’t know—but they’re fucking serious as hell, Eddie.”
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