by Alex Bratton
Despite her anger, Mina often wondered about Doyle. She had met more people in the past two weeks than she had in the two months she had spent with him, but she missed his quiet companionship. He didn’t fear her, didn’t shrink away as the other refugees did. Her mistakes had frustrated him, but he’d also accepted her frustration in return.
Doyle respected her, it seemed, or he would not have helped her. During many sleepless nights, Mina reevaluated her decision to leave, but she always reached the same two conclusions—she didn’t want to be associated with a murderer, and Doyle didn’t want her company, or he would have stopped her from walking away.
After days of wandering, Mina stumbled upon a family hiding in a shallow cave—a man and his wife with a boy and a girl of three and four and a baby of less than a year. Pale and skinny, the older children hunkered in the cave while their parents roasted a deer haunch outside. When Mina offered to provide greens for their meal, the family agreed to share their meat. Mina accepted the invitation. Joking cheerfully with one another over their food, they seemed like the sort of people she could have been friends with in her past life. But before long, the lighthearted conversation took a darker turn.
“I just wish we knew why the Glyphs keep flying over,” Mina said as they sat eating near the mountain stream.
The woman, Catherine, who had long dark hair and warm hazel eyes, shared a log with Mina. Her husband Howard and the children sat on a ragged blanket on the ground. The stream burbled happily in the sunlight.
“Maybe the invaders are on the move,” Howard suggested.
“To where and why? We still have no idea why they’re here.”
“I doubt we'll ever find out,” Catherine said. “I’m just thankful they’re leaving us alone.”
At one time, Mina had been grateful for the same thing. Now, she yearned to know more. Most of all, she wanted to see the aliens defeated. Her mind raced with memories of all she had seen since early spring, yet she could hardly believe any of it had happened.
She wiped her fingers on her jeans. “Have you met anyone else lately?”
“We’ve seen a few people,” Catherine answered, “but we keep out of sight, mostly. I’m surprised you found us. This spot is pretty sheltered.”
“I’ve been looking for someone. My brother. About six-foot-six, wavy auburn hair?” Mina looked from Catherine to Howard.
Howard frowned and shook his head. “Doesn’t sound familiar. What about you?”
“No. I’m sorry.” Catherine turned to Mina. “Where was he?”
“Atlanta.”
“Oh.” Catherine turned toward her children, who had shoved down all their food and were now brandishing sticks in a mock sword fight. The sharp raps of the branches echoed through the little cove. “Put those down. They’re noisy.”
Howard cleared his throat, redirecting Mina’s attention. “What part of Atlanta?”
“The airport.”
“I’m sorry. Atlanta is mostly in ruins. The invaders burned the airport first, I think. We passed the rubble on our way here.”
Mina had heard this news before, but somehow, Howard saying it made it seem real. Yet, the realization did not fill her with dread. If anything, she felt better hearing the news from someone who had seen it firsthand. No more conjecture. No more what-ifs.
“You’re from Atlanta?” Mina asked.
Catherine turned back to Mina and attempted a smile. “Yes. We found a small town in the mountains to hide, but the invaders attacked that, too. We barely made it out alive. No matter where we go, they seem to follow.” Catherine cradled the baby, brushing the girl’s soft cheek with her own. “Most of the townspeople were wiped out in an attack. I found this baby crying on the side of the road, surrounded by dead bodies.”
“I’m sorry.” Horrified, Mina didn’t know what else to say. The scene Catherine described reminded her of the bodies she had found on the roads to the mountains.
Catherine sniffed and said, “I’ll pray that you find your brother.”
“Thank you.”
To repay them for the meal, Mina shared some of her knowledge of roots and berries. Catherine asked her to stay, but Mina insisted on heading out alone. Still, Catherine walked with Mina awhile as she left, promising to show her something. She had left the baby in the cave with Howard.
“It’s beautiful here,” Catherine remarked. “We’re going to stay as long as possible. Plus, it’s difficult to move around much with the children.”
“What about the Glyphs?”
“If there’s one thing we’ve learned how to do, it’s hide.”
Up ahead were the waterfalls that fed their stream. The first large fall dropped straight into a deep natural pool, which then spilled over smooth, bare rocks into a more shallow pool at the bottom.
“The second waterfall would be perfect for sliding down into the lower pool,” Mina commented.
“Yes. The kids do it sometimes. We bathe here, too.”
Catherine stayed by the lower pool while Mina climbed over large slippery boulders and followed a half-hidden path to the top of the falls. The shallow stream moved slowly here, different from the turbulent rapids she had expected. The roar of the falls disappeared, and the sunlight played through the trees. Sunbeams reached the forest floor and glinted off small white flowers blooming next to the water. Clumps of tiny purple butterflies gathered on the rocks, fluttering away when Mina moved close.
She sat by the stream for several minutes, sleepy in the warm sun. Finally, she stood and looked around. The path she had followed up disappeared but seemed to reappear beyond the stream. She knew it was not a real trail, but she walked along it anyway, exploring.
As Mina turned to head back to where Catherine was sitting, something glistened far off through the trees. Mina crept closer for a better look. The sun shimmered, as if illuminating another waterfall. As Mina approached, she saw not water but stone.
She stopped cold.
A golden-gray giant stood with its back to her—an invader. A shudder ran down the length of Mina’s spine, raising goosebumps on her arms despite the heat of the day. A familiar knot of anxiety rose in her throat. She backed away slowly, hoping the Glyph had not heard her stomping through the woods. When it remained stationary, Mina turned and hurried as quickly as she dared back down the path to the bottom of the falls.
Catherine sat by the pool with her feet in the water, wringing her wet hair. After a moment of oblivion, she noticed Mina’s frantic motioning and scrambled to her feet. She grabbed her shoes and met Mina.
Mina glanced back at the top of the waterfall and mouthed, “Glyphs.”
Catherine’s tanned face turned white, and she hurried with Mina into the trees.
“Where to?” Mina whispered when they had moved a little farther away from the Glyph.
“Away from camp,” Catherine answered, keeping her voice low and pointing in the opposite direction from the cave.
They ran, Mina’s boots thumping loudly in the dirt, her heart beating in her throat. They hadn’t gone far before a great crashing noise made both women jump. The ground shook, and they ran faster. The terrain rose swiftly. They had to climb.
Before they began the ascent, Mina heard a sharp intake of breath and turned. Catherine gaped through the trees. In a small clearing, a Glyph stood calmly on two legs, towering over them. Was it a second one? Or the first?
Its skin shone like yellow sun on hard, gray stone. Strange and terrible symbols covered its entire body, etched like circular hieroglyphs except the symbols shifted and moved, seemingly on their own. The creature’s eyes gleamed pitch black. As Mina stared into them, fire flickered and swirled where the pupils should have been then disappeared.
As the Glyph watched them, the bright day darkened.
The Glyph lunged. Mina couldn’t think. It was seconds away. Run. Where? No time. Without any other options, she drew her gun and pointed it straight at the Glyph. Her finger shook as it found the safety.
&n
bsp; She fired once, twice, hitting its body, but the bullets bounced off with no effect. The creature roared with a low, throaty voice. Mina braced herself for the onslaught as Catherine turned and ran.
“Catherine! No!” Mina shouted. Catherine was heading straight for the other Glyph.
Mina’s warning went unheeded. The Glyph swerved toward its prey. Catherine turned just as the creature swung its gigantic arm. She ducked, stumbling over rocks. To distract the Glyph, Mina raised her gun and fired again. Once again, the bullets bounced off its thick, stone-like hide, but she had got its attention. Mina shot it again, backing away up the slope as it turned toward her. Catherine was off, running the other way.
“Mina, run!” a familiar male voice called from somewhere behind her.
She pulled her eyes away from the Glyph, half expecting to see Howard, but she saw no one.
The creature clambered up the slope toward her impossibly fast. How did it move so quickly?
“Run!” the voice called again.
This time, she recognized him. Doyle.
Mina looked around wildly. He came up behind her, grabbing and pulling her to the side. As he did, Mina grasped his shirt, her eyes wide with terror.
The world shifted. She saw Doyle, standing between her and the Glyph. She saw the Glyph charge with its great arms raised, ready to crush them both. Then, she saw them both dead on the ground.
But Doyle was still standing somehow, she felt him next to her, and the Glyph had halted. It studied Doyle like it was sizing him up for some hideous duel. The creature’s mouth opened, and it made sounds like Mina had never heard, almost identical to the waterfall not far away but with distinctive patterns and variety.
It’s speaking.
Doyle’s body tensed, and then he staggered as if a wave had crashed over him. He recovered quickly, shaking. His face turned a terrible shade of dark red. Then, he lunged for the Glyph, forcing Mina to let go of his shirt, and the world shifted back to normal again.
“No! Doyle!”
As the creature charged for the second time, the image of herself and Doyle lying dead on the ground consumed Mina. She aimed her gun at the creature’s head and fired again and again, this time into its cold black eyes. Her aim was everywhere, but she continued shooting.
One of the monster’s eyes exploded with a sickening squelch, and the invader lurched forward. Its claws tore at Doyle, hooking into his shirt. Mina stopped breathing.
Doyle somehow got free to roll out of the way.
With a loud crash, the Glyph landed in a young tree, causing it to sway dangerously. The creature swiftly rose to its feet again, silver liquid flowing out of its damaged eye socket. It still possessed one intact eye, and with a howl, it reached for Doyle with its massive claws. Doyle dodged it just in time.
The Glyph swept around for its prey again. This time, Doyle did not step aside. He charged the creature with his knife in hand, ducking the outstretched claws. Doyle landed his blow. The blade pierced his opponent’s hide, sliding through to flesh and bone. The Glyph screeched and reeled back. Doyle pulled out the knife and stabbed again. Thick, silvery blood spurted from its wounds.
Doyle didn’t stop. He punched through the Glyph’s body in every place he could reach. In its desperation to get away, the creature made straight for Mina, but it was slower now, clumsy. It grasped at Doyle again, attempting to crush him as it fell.
Doyle avoided it easily, but the creature’s outstretched arm tagged Mina and sent her sprawling. She landed at the base of a tree a few feet away. Pain shot through her side as she tumbled to a stop. Dazed and laying at an awkward angle, Mina craned her neck to watch what was happening.
Doyle walked up to the creature’s head, staring down at it with a look of revulsion on his face. Its one eye followed him. Doyle’s lips moved, but Mina couldn’t hear what he said. Then, Doyle plunged his knife straight through the good eye. The Glyph twitched with its mouth open in what looked like a silent scream. He drove it further, bearing down on the blade with all his weight.
The creature writhed one final time and then went still. Its hot lifeblood flowed out of its wounds, soaking the rocky ground.
Relieved, Mina moved her arm to rise. A stabbing pain in her chest stopped her. She crumpled back to the ground, unable to breathe without excruciating pain. The agony spread through her chest, up her spine. Her vision blurred.
Doyle knelt beside her, checking her body for injury. He seemed unhurt, except for his torn shirt. His face swam in front of her.
“I was too slow,” she said.
“You weren’t too slow.”
“Where’s Catherine?”
“She ran off. We need to go, too. More of them will come.” He sounded far away.
Doyle picked her up, and the pain in Mina’s chest intensified as she wrapped her arms around his neck. As he held her close, she felt that strange shift again. She saw the creature’s body, but she also saw more Glyphs running to this spot and a great black ship hovering over the valley. A tall, fierce woman watched over all of them, a woman dressed in dark clothing and armed with the same kind of knife Doyle carried.
Despite the warm afternoon sun, Mina shivered. She nestled her head in the crook of his neck, letting her body sag against him. Doyle gripped her more tightly. Mina wanted to protest, to tell him she could walk, but all she could do was brush her lips against his neck.
“You’ll be okay,” he said. It was the first time he had ever tried to comfort her.
“Lost… my bag… by the waterfall,” she said haltingly, unable to find her breath.
Doyle carried her through the trees, his chin supporting her head against him. His short beard tickled her forehead when he spoke. “We can’t go back for it. I still have mine.”
“It was all I had.” What a ridiculous thing to worry about.
“I know.”
He kept walking, carrying her deeper into the trees. Mina closed her eyes.
Chapter Ten
WHAT HAD STARTED OUT AS pretense ended with another earnest look at the hieroglyphs. On the evening the team had discussed how to get away from Captain Baker, Lincoln had off-handedly mentioned looking for larger patterns as a way to cover up the group’s real conversation. Once Lincoln and the team realized what he was suggesting, they all felt a bit foolish. Lincoln’s father would have called it “missing the forest for the trees.”
The next day, they began drawing the alien symbols, filling up a sheet of paper for each doorway inside the mountain. Then, they filled in the middle of each door, painstakingly drawing every detail by hand. When they finished the doors, they moved into the tunnel, which turned out to be a bigger task than they were equipped for. The sheer area of the tunnel made it the most difficult, especially since the symbols wrapped around instead of presenting themselves on a flat wall.
The team argued about the form their sketches should take. Should they be stretched out and laid flat like a map? Or were the copies only meaningful if the symbols curved like they did in reality?
After several arguments, they proceeded to draw their copies both ways. The only part they hadn’t drawn was a section of symbols near the bottom of the tunnel. They examined the new drawings from every possible angle. Alvarez looked for hidden equations. Carter and Nelson tried to interpret the writing as a code. Lincoln attempted to read it as a schematic or blueprint.
So far, the drawings had led them nowhere. After four more weeks of studying the alien hieroglyphs in different ways, the symbols still baffled Lincoln and his team.
Today, Lincoln, Alvarez, Nelson, and Carter had worked in the tunnel until Schmidt called down the stairs. Suspicious and overbearing, Baker still refused to let them go anywhere on their own.
Sore from drawing with the paper laid on the wall, Lincoln dropped his arms. He called to the others who were sitting just inside the silo, taking a break.
They walked back to camp in the fading light. Alvarez nodded to Nelson, who moved to walk beside Schmidt.
“Corporal, do you think we could find another toothbrush somewhere? I lost mine.”
Schmidt sneezed violently and sniffled.
“Bless you.”
“Thanks.” Schmidt wiped his nose on his sleeve. “Think I’m getting this cold that’s going around camp.”
“Sorry, man. That’s rough.”
Schmidt sniffled again. “I don’t know about the toothbrush. You might have to ask around, but I doubt anyone’s going to be willing to give one up.”
“Maybe I could offer a trade?”
“Like what?”
Lincoln dropped back into step with Alvarez and Carter. “What do you think?” he asked quietly. “Two or three more trips?”
They had been stowing supplies—blankets, bandages, empty hydration packs, whatever they could snag—in a brown canvas duffel bag near the entrance on the top of the mountain. They always carried packs when they went up there, and each day, one of them made sure something valuable went in the bag. Stealing off to put it in there had been easy. Between the four of them, it wasn’t a stretch for one of them to need to “use the facilities” on every trip.
Carter watched the back of Schmidt’s head carefully. “Yes. The bag’s almost full. Now we just need to worry about getting out of camp with a tent or two. We’ll really need them.”
“I don’t see how that’s possible,” Alvarez said. “Baker and Schmidt will notice if we take ours down, and I have no idea where they'd keep an extra if they have it.” She nodded toward Schmidt. “Do you think he’d tell us?”
“Maybe,” Carter said. “But he’d figure out pretty quick what we were doing. I’m not ready to blow our plan.”
“I think he’ll want to come with us.”
Lincoln leaned in closer. “Really?” Lincoln had noticed Alvarez and Schmidt talking more often but had purposely avoided overhearing another private conversation.
“Of course.” Alvarez ticked off the reasons on her fingers. “He rarely leaves our side. He’s always willing to help, even with ridiculous things like toothbrushes. He’s not overbearing like Baker. Schmidt’s a good guy. He’ll want to help.”