Alien Stolen

by Rena Marks

  “I wonder if they’d let one of us go?”

  I grinned. “That’s why I love your brain. Always thinking.”

  She harrumphed, and we bent to pick up the crate between us. We’d rigged it to hang on a wooden post we carried over our shoulders, so I’d walk behind her. It meant we couldn’t talk without shouting, but it was a good thing to stay quiet anyway.

  This was the new life we lived.

  Chapter Two

  When we approached the river, the person standing as a lookout waved us on. We’d been coming here for years, and he knew us by sight. But I hoped that we’d never get too lax, that people wouldn’t forget how many we’ve lost to the aliens called Praydians. That new people would never get suckered into trusting them and join the throes of the disappeared.

  More fishermen and women stood on the rocks or waded down into the water. Carrying the crate between us, we walked along, looking for one or both of our dads.

  I inhaled the familiar, well-loved scent of the outdoors. I brushed away the flyaway strands of blond hair annoying me, and tucked them behind my ears.

  An older man with gray hair stood barefoot, with a fishing pole in his hand.

  “Hello, Mr. Reyes,” I called. “Have you seen my dad?”

  He waved to me before gesturing further down the lake.

  “Thanks,” I replied and shifted the weight of the crate.

  “Ungh,” Ria responded. “Let’s switch shoulders.”

  Between us, we lifted the pole and ducked our heads to switch the crate from our right shoulders to our left. It was a maneuver we’d practiced many times. Onward we marched. I kept my eyes on the pathway to avoid the potholes and broken junk upheaved over the years by the weather, the alien crash, and plain ole foot traffic. I kept one hand on the pole holding the crate between us while the other swung free.

  Around us, birds chirped in the trees, as if they were no longer afraid of man now that new threats had emerged.

  They weren’t much farther up the stream. Coordinating the crate between us, we set it down on the ground and began to whistle, making a game out of who could call louder. Both of our fathers looked up, waved and gathered up the net before wading through the water to get to shore.

  “How did you do today?” my dad asked.

  “Not bad. We have a new fishing net for you. Would you like it?”

  “Are you kidding? Yes. We have another hole in this one.” I could hear the frustration in my dad’s voice. Sewing supplies were precious.

  Everything was precious.

  “We need to join in the raid.”

  My dad didn’t sound surprised by my words, so I’d have to assume word of the nitrate raid had gotten to the fishing hole.

  “We can get double the booty if you both volunteered,” Ria said.

  Her dad responded. “You know why we don’t. We can’t afford to lose both of us should something happen.”

  “Nothing will happen. Besides, we always give away some of what we collect to people who can’t get to their own stuff. Like to Mrs. Blay. I say I go instead of just one of you.”

  “No.”

  “Look.” I leaned in. “Ria and I can go together for double the booty. Or, one of you experienced members can take one of us inexperienced gals. My dad and Ria. Or me and Mr. Abeyta.”

  “So our choices are take one of them, or they go together?” Mr. Abeyta spoke to my dad.

  “Apparently we didn’t raise them right.”

  “Apparently we are our fathers’ daughters,” Ria said. We smiled at each other.

  “Let’s do rock, paper, scissors,” I said, and Ria and I quickly whipped our fists out.

  I won.

  “Okay,” she agreed. “Looks like it’s me and your dad. You can take over the fishing tomorrow with mine.”

  “Awesome.” I smiled at Mr. Abeyta. He didn’t look too thrilled, so I turned back to Ria.

  “Can I borrow your little cotton skirt? The one in camouflage grays? Just in case you die tomorrow.”

  “No!” She snapped. “Wait ‘til I’m dead. You’re in my will.”

  “We could do rock, paper, scissors to see who gets to tell the wives,” my dad said to Mr. Abeyta. “Or we could send the girls home with the news.”

  “That’s my idea,” Ria’s dad said. “Girls, go home.”

  * * * * *

  Our mothers weren’t as perturbed with the idea of Ria going with Dad on the raid. To the women of the family, it made sense to bring home double the booty when we were actually two families. So the four of us woke up at the butt-crack of dawn. Ria caved and loaned me her camo miniskirt since I’d be wading through the water. Mr. Abeyta and I headed to the lake, and Ria and my dad went on to Reddix’s for the raid.

  I didn’t mind fishing. What I did mind was having to work in silence so as to not scare the fish. And the smell. I imagined you’d grow used to it after a while. The dads never seemed to mind it. I didn’t mind it…on them. But on me?

  Wow.

  “If you’re ever in a pinch and hungry,” Mr. Abeyta said. “Another good time to fish is early evening. Just as the sun goes down, the fish come out. Keep your hands clean, the fish will smell you on the bait otherwise.”

  We always used live bait. Crickets, prawns.

  These were the same instructions Ria and I had heard since we were teenage girls. Now I realized our dads prepared us in case we were on our own or if something happened to them. And suddenly I didn’t mind hearing the lessons over and over.

  “Think outside the box. No net? Look through debris that may be washed up on the shore. Is there a plastic bag? A bucket? No rod? Try a thorny, sharp twig. Lots of times there are used syringes in the trash. Use some twine to tie it to a long branch and make a spear. Sometimes there are unopened glow sticks in the trash.”

  They made sure we always had twine wrapped around our necks, like survivor’s jewelry. Mine was a flint necklace.

  “Bobby pins, paper clips. Shoelaces. All make hooks and line. If there’s no trash anywhere? Unravel thread from your own clothing. Twist pieces of your hair. Long grass, flax…even seaweed.”

  I remember Ria and I once came across a few old bobby pins in the trash. Nothing went to waste. We all took one each, and stuck it in our hair “in case we needed it.” We had emergency survival bags that we grabbed to run with, if ever the military or aliens descended upon our mine shaft. They contained just a few odds and ends. A paperclip. Ria had an unused glowstick in hers.

  My attention went back to Mr. Abeyta. It was like having two fathers, definitely. We weren’t two families living together. We were one large family.

  I repressed a giggle. A father I called Mr. Abeyta. Ria and I had long passed the age of adulthood, but we’d never lost the titles we had for each other’s dads. The moms were different. I called hers Marie, and she called mine Shelly.

  Our net had a healthy load, so we hauled it up between us. It was heavy work, more so than one would expect.

  “I swear you were meant for fishing,” Mr. Abeyta said. “Your dad’s not going to believe this one. It must be double our normal catch.”

  I refrained from pointing out many of the fishermen were off on the raid. “Good,” I said instead. “Everyone will be able to eat today. And when Dad and Ria get back with that nitrate, we’ll have ice to store some fish for the others.”

  We hauled our net to the shallow end. Today was a dangerous day to fish. Our lookout was out on the raid, so we had to keep our senses sharp, and all the humans had to work together to notify each other of hazards.

  “Johnny,” Mr. Abeyta called.

  Johnny Warfare hauled his crate over to us. He had a makeshift trolley on wheels, using old rusty nails he pounded into a wood frame. And somewhere, he’d managed to scavenge four old wheels.

  Wheels were a prize that equaled gold. Ria and I swore to find wheels someday, and we searched every trash pile that washed ashore. Every dumpsite, every rock we turned over. So far, nothing.

&n
bsp; “Are you heading to town?” Mr. Abeyta asked him. It was funny that we called it town, even though it was nothing of the sort. But old habits die hard, and it used to be.

  Johnny nodded. There were elderly people we always managed to get a fish or two to, and of course there was Mrs. Blay. She collected trade items for all of us.

  “Will you take these and dole them out among everyone?”

  Johnny’s eyes grew wide. “Of course.” He was twenty now and had eyes for Ria. His older brother, who had been our age, was killed after volunteering to join the alien faction. I always wondered if Johnny would be brave enough to make a move on her one day. But Ria didn’t seem interested. And of course, with the Change, it wasn’t like anyone really dated anymore. You just kind of hooked up if you needed to. If your family passed and you lived alone. Our family was strong and merged, and I didn’t think Ria would ever choose to leave us.

  Perhaps that was why Johnny never did anything but stammer around her.

  We loaded the fish into his crate, keeping eight aside for us. We’d boil and smoke half of those here, in case Ria and Dad were hungry when they returned from the raid. We’d have to grill the other four because my mom and Maria were coming up here when they woke. They’d scavenge for any fruits or vegetables, like Ria and I usually did, to supplement our morning meal.

  Johnny headed off to town, and I started the fire. We’d brought a heavy old pot with us today and would boil the fish we planned to smoke.

  By the time they’d boiled, we set it aside to cool. The wooden planks we’d soaked were laid across the fire, and the fresh fish was filleted by Mr. Abeyta. I washed his knife for him while he spread the fish out across the planks.

  “Yoohoo,” my mom called out from a distance. Her worn, straw hat covered her fair hair and kept her scalp from sunburn. Ria’s mom was dark-haired and had no such problems.

  I imagined one day I’d inherit the hat.

  For now, my lightened blond hair was beautiful, or so Ria said. Especially against the tan of my skin. But I was in my twenties, and mom was in her fifties.

  Ria liked to twist mine into tiny braids so the sun would highlight it unevenly. She thought the various colors were cool. Me? I just twirled it into a messy knot to keep it from my nape. By the end of summer it gets so light, it’s nearly white.

  I teased Ria that she was just getting herself familiar with my hair in case we were ever stranded and she wanted to use it for fishing, laughing about the survival advice. We never, ever, let our dads hear our banter, of course.

  Marie dumped her basket out on a plank.

  I squealed. “You found more asparagus? Where did you find it?”

  “It was growing wild in that area that used to be a trailer park. By the old school.”

  Of course. Several elder people had lived in that park. The asparagus was growing from someone’s abandoned garden.

  There were six strawberries, too.

  “Looks like a bunny or squirrel ate the rest.” My mom’s voice was apologetic.

  “Ria and I will get up there and put some netting or something up,” I assured her. “We’ll keep an eye on the old garden so it’ll produce more next year.”

  It was important to leave the gardens all scattered. If we were ever accosted, we needed to know where all the food foraging sites were while we found a new hiding place.

  We sat down while Mr. Abeyta served us with flourish, like a butler would. He had the ladies giggling. If truth be told, and I was my dad’s most loyal fan, Mr. Abeyta was a wee bit better in the grilling department.

  We had just finished eating, and Marie had tossed our bones into the lake and scrubbed the planks. We left the planks where we found them, in case the next person needed to use them. The leftover fish was still slowly smoking on the dying fire. We’d soon pack it up and go home for the hottest part of the day.

  But then there was a commotion from down the shore.

  Johnny came running, without his wheeled crate. “It was a set-up,” he yelled. “Everybody scattered except for Gerry and Ria! They’ve been captured by the military.”

  Chapter Three

  “What? What’s happened?” The crowd gathered around Johnny instantly but had to wait for him to gulp great gasps of air before he could tell the story. He collapsed on the dirt, his chest heaving with the effort to breathe.

  “It was a set-up. Jeremy Miller has a cousin with connections in the military, and he gave him warning that we were being framed, but he didn’t get word until the raid was already in motion. One by one, we spread word to cease and run, but Ria and Gerry were in the front of the line. We couldn’t get to them or Angelo, Hiro, and Jessie. But those three got away, and told us Ria and Gerry sacrificed themselves to let them escape.”

  Marie sobbed, and my mother whimpered. Mr. Abeyta looked grim. None of us were surprised they saved the others.

  But how would we save them?

  “Any ideas where they took them?” I asked.

  “To the army base.”

  Mr. Abeyta’s voice was sharp. “The one that’s closing?”

  “Yeah, but for now, it’s still there.”

  My stomach sunk. If the base was closing, chances are they’d be shipped off as food along with the rest of the packing of materials.

  “How long?”

  Johnny shrugged. “By the end of the week.”

  They could be dead by this time next week.

  Stunned, I wandered away from the group. I couldn’t imagine life without my dad and my best friend. I needed quiet time to think.

  The fish was done smoking. I shredded it into pieces, wrapped it in large leaves, and packed it in my bag. I washed the last plank off in the water and scattered the ashes and rocks.

  I was still in a bemused state of shock, but then the anger hit. Those idiot military imbeciles, serving the Praydians like mindless fools. Capturing your own kind to deliver on a platter. What the hell was wrong with our planet that we were always enslaving our own people?

  I was packing up the fish for a reason I wasn’t aware of. I didn’t throw it out, I didn’t give it away. I packed it and suddenly realized why.

  I was going after them.

  Aware of someone watching, I looked up to see Mr. Abeyta’s dark eyes brooding as he studied my form.

  “Careful,” I whispered, motioning around the ground. “The rocks might be hot still.”

  I’d buried the hotter ones, and of course, doused them with lake water.

  “You know why they sacrificed themselves, don’t you?” he asked.

  I knew. But I shrugged.

  “Hiro has a son, Miko. He’s only twelve. Angelo takes care of his mother and grandmother. And Jessie? Well, Jessie’s a girl.”

  “Ria’s a girl.”

  “You and Ria are both girls who can take care of yourselves. Jessie didn’t have fathers to teach her survival.”

  I nodded. “And my dad and Ria figured if they were going to die, at least they’ll die together.”

  “Exactly,” he whispered.

  We both stayed quiet for a second. I had the image of Ria and dad making a suicide pact.

  I knew what I had to do. “I’m not going to let them. My mom will be safe with you two if something happens to me. I’d rather trade my life for two. If not, we all win, and I bring back my dad and your daughter.”

  “Your dad will kill me,” Mr. Abeyta said. “We have our own pact. We take care of our daughters first.”

  “That’s why I’m not giving you a choice.”

  He tossed me the knife he used to fillet the fish. It had just been sharpened that morning. He and I had laughed and told jokes while he honed it.

  He gave me a short nod and looked the other way as I strapped it to my thigh. Then I picked up my old, worn backpack and disappeared.

  I came up with a plan as I traveled. Not the best way to prepare, I know. My dad would be appalled at my lack of preparation. On the other hand, my dad would be appalled at my actual plan.
>
  There were two currencies in the world since the Change. Food…and sex. It wouldn’t be hard to be sexy. A dab of berries to stain my lips. I took the knife strapped to my thigh and made a strategically ripped slit that would show my tanned leg as I moved. I could even expose my midriff. And I was bra-less, though nowadays, most women were.

  The camp wasn’t far, just about twelve miles. It would take a few hours to walk, and I didn’t need breaks. I had my smoked meat, a water bottle, and an excellent breakfast. I’d be there in no time.

  I thought out my plan as I walked, weighing the pros and cons in my head. Then, my mind wandered to our life since the Change.

  All we knew of the Praydians who’d landed was the leader’s name—Piehelock. It was pronounced with a hocking sound at the middle syllable. Humans slaughtered it, of course. But those of us considered Resistance had no radios or televisions, so there wasn’t communication to hear it pronounced. One day, hopefully, a lot of us would be able to band together and make plans. But for now, it would have to do just to hide from them.

  Sometimes, we hid others who drifted through towns. We never talked about who or when, of course.

  Two years earlier, Ria found a soldier who’d defected. They were trying to catch him, alarms going off in the distance and military jeeps combing the grounds. Everyone we knew was hiding. But sometimes we had to sneak out for food, and when we did, we grabbed as much as possible to hide inside the mine with us. We went deeper than usual, which was seriously dangerous. There was an old, abandoned entrance underneath a ridge of railroad tracks that was boarded because of instability. That was where we hid.

  The soldier was bleeding, propped against a tree. Ria took one look at him, doused his wound with her water bottle, bandaged up him up, and dragged him to the mine shaft. He passed out during the dragging. We hid for nearly a week with him underground. Thankfully, it was a rare time frame when we had some ice in the cooler from an earlier raid for nitrate, though there was an argument as to whether to keep it to make ice or keep it to make a bomb. No one wanted to be taken alive. We decided to use the nitrate for survival and come up with another way to kill ourselves if we were all taken.