When They Came

by Kody Boye

  I started first with the dream, then the incident in the infirmary, then detailed what had happened down to the brief vision I’d experienced while sitting no more than ten feet from the nearest Coyote.

  By the time I finished, Captain Henshaw’s eyes had narrowed and his teeth were bared in a violent snarl. “You should have said something.”

  “I know,” I replied. “I just… I didn’t think—”

  “Go home, Berrios.”

  “But sir—”

  “I said go home.”

  With nothing else to say or do, I headed for the apartment, all the while wondering what I’d gotten both myself—and the rest of the Guard—into.

  I unlocked the door and stole into the apartment as silently as possible—knowing that my mother would likely greet me as soon as I opened the bedroom door. Quietly, I closed the door behind me and settled down on the couch to consider what had transpired.

  What happened out on the walls? And why, of all people, had it happened to me?

  It’s because of the bite, I wanted to say as I looked down at my arm, but refused to give words to my thoughts, lest they hold some truth.

  I spread out along the threadbare leather couch. The tension in my chest began to unravel, like a kitten tugging a line of string from a ball of yarn. I breathed, allowing the sensation to encompass me, and closed my eyes, trying my hardest not to think of the event and everything that had occurred within it.

  All that sound—

  We might as well have set a bomb off. That’s how visible we’d made ourselves.

  I reached down to brace my hand across my abdomen and grimaced as a wave of nausea overwhelmed me.

  I’d never been good with nerves—had never dealt well with the idea that something I might do could cause so much harm.

  What did this mean for me? And most importantly: what did this mean for my involvement in the Guard? I didn’t know—couldn’t until I dwelled upon it further and had something more substantial to compare it to. For that reason alone, I settled down and prepared for a long night.

  I dreamed of darkness that night, of a place unimaginable, of a world where the dark gray sun rarely shone upon the land. When it did, it blazed with an intensity that would have scarred the skin upon any human man’s back. Throughout most of the dream I saw nothing except the barren gray landscape, and only occasionally the black monoliths with the circular portholes up top. Then I saw the ships—hovering about the sky. They rotated with an endless efficiency I found utterly hypnotic in a land with no trees or animals to be seen. I heard the laughter—the bay of beasts—and turned to find an army of Coyotes standing behind me, helmed by one of the gray-skin entities that had attempted to touch me the night before.

  Starchild, it said, its voice like water cascading through my mind. Daughter of the human flesh. We come bearing a message.

  What message? I wondered in this dream.

  That we are watching, the creature said.

  The dream shifted, the landscape faded, darkness reigned supreme.

  When it came time for me to wake the following morning, it was to the sound of Xiomara unlocking, then opening the front door.

  “Sis?” Xiomara asked as she entered. “Are you all right?”

  “Shh,” our mother said. “She’s sleeping.”

  “It’s fine,” I replied, opening my eyes. “I’m already awake.”

  “I was worried about you when you left the walls,” Xiomara said.

  “Did something happen?” Our mother turned to face us from her work in the kitchen.

  “Coyotes tried to breach our perimeter,” she responded. “That’s why you heard all the shooting.”

  “I was wondering what all that racket was.”

  “Captain Henshaw sent Ana home because he didn’t want an unarmed person on the walls with so much activity going on.”

  Thank God for my sister and her brilliant logic.

  “Good,” our mother said. “She shouldn’t be on the wall in the state she’s in anyway.”

  “It’s not like I can just lie around all day, Mom.”

  “Then come to work with me today,” she said, meeting my eyes. “We could always use some extra hands in the kitchen.”

  “I can’t cook, Mama.”

  “You don’t have to. You could just hand me eggs and whatever else I need.”

  “I think I’ll pass,” I said. “I need to go to the infirmary to get this bandage changed anyway.”

  “Did you take your pill yet?”

  “No.”

  “Then do it before you leave.”

  I walked to the kitchen counter, retrieved the single pill with the laborious effort it took to unscrew the safety cap, then downed it with a sip of water. Our mother—still watching me like a hawk—finished tying her hair back with a rubber band and turned to walk toward the door. “You girls stay safe today,” she said, but I already knew the words were aimed toward me. “I love you.”

  “I love you too,” Xiomara said, to which I responded with a nod before she closed and locked the door. My sister waited for several long minutes—watching the door for any sign of movement or reentry—before rotating to face me. “You owe me. Bigtime.”

  “I know.” I sighed. “Thank you.”

  “What the hell happened on the wall last night?”

  “Xio,” I said.

  “Well? Tell me.”

  So I did, despite the fact that I didn’t want to tell her about the dreams, the visions, or the fact that I felt the Coyotes had specifically targeted me. When I finished, her eyes were alight with horror, her mouth curled into a frown of monstrous proportions.

  “Mia.”

  “I know,” I replied, looking toward but not truly wanting to walk to the door. “I already plan on going to the doctor and asking her about this.”

  “About what?” she asked. “The visions? The attack?”

  “I want to see what she knows about this. Please don’t patronize me, Xio. I already feel bad enough about what happened on the wall.”

  “I’m scared for you, Sis. I’m not patronizing you, as you put it.”

  “I know.” I reached out to take hold of her hand and found her grip was much weaker than usual. “Are you okay?”

  “I was scared to death after what happened last night. Still am, if you want to know the truth.”

  “I take it that’s never happened before, has it?”

  My sister shook her head. “No. Never. Which is why this is so concerning.”

  “What did Captain Henshaw say after I left?”

  “To shut up, stand up, and do our job,” Xio said. “He was more concerned about the noise drawing more attention than anything.”

  “And did it?”

  “If you’re asking if we saw any Harvester ships,” my sister replied, “then no, we didn’t. More Coyotes did show up, though. To pull the corpses away and all.”

  “That sucks,” I said, then sighed.

  “They’ll always come back, Mia. They’re like rats—once you have them, you have them for life.”

  “I know.” Frowning at the door, I strode toward it. “I’m going to the infirmary. See if I can get this straightened out.”

  “Do you want me to come with you?” Xiomara asked.

  “No. You stay here, get some sleep. I have a feeling I won’t be going back to the walls anytime soon anyway.”

  “Be straight with me,” I said to Doctor Helen Parish. “Tell me everything you know about what happens to a person after they’re bitten by a Coyote.”

  “This is about what happened on the walls last night,” she said. “Isn’t it?”

  “You know?” I asked, frowning.

  “Captain Henshaw informed me of what happened. It was… most peculiar to say the least.”

  “That’s an understatement,” I said, reaching up to part my hair from my face. “So… what can you tell me about those who have been bitten in the past?”

  “That they succumbed to fits of hysteria
, attempted to hurt themselves or others—and claimed they saw alternate worlds that resemble nothing like our own. Tell me, Ana—since you haven’t experienced the former symptoms, have you dealt with the latter?”

  “I had… a vision,” I said. “Of a group of Coyotes dancing beneath a… monolith, I guess you could call it?”

  “All right.”

  “And then a Harvester came and took Them away. To… well… Earth.”

  “And this is all you’ve seen?”

  “No.” I grimaced as the memory of the gray-skinned, black-eyed being came to my mind. “I saw… well… one of Them.”

  “Them?”

  “The… the ones who pilot the ships.”

  “What did it say?”

  Say?

  She knew that They spoke to people who communicated with Them?

  “It… called me Starchild,” I said. “Then told me it had a message.”

  “Which was?”

  “That They were watching.”

  Doctor Helen Parish didn’t respond.

  “I guess what I really want to know,” I said after a moment’s hesitation, “is if I’m a danger to the people in the Guard when I’m on the wall.”

  “There’s no way to tell for sure—but if your mere presence is detectable by the Coyotes, you might want to reconsider your occupation of choice.”

  “That’s something I’d have to talk to the captain about.”

  “Either way, I’m not sure what say, Ana. This… transformation you’re undergoing, it… it’s unlike anything I or my associates have ever seen.”

  “And you’ve studied my blood?” I asked. “To see if there were any abnormalities?”

  “None that we can see. But I must stress this again: we don’t have the proper equipment to conduct the proper studies we need on your blood.”

  “Which means what, exactly?”

  “Which means…” She sighed. “You might want to consider leaving Fort Hope to go to another institution.”

  Another institution?

  I frowned.

  Up until that moment, I had been under the impression Fort Hope was the only facility in which civilians were operating.

  Unless—

  I paused.

  Unless this wasn’t a civilian base at all.

  “Look,” the doctor said, leaning forward to take my one good hand. “I’m not going to tell you what you should or should not do. I will say, however, that if your presence is enough to draw the Coyotes, then that means—”

  “I’m a risk to everybody,” I said.

  The doctor winced, but nodded.

  Drawing back, I set my hand on my lap and turned to face the window—where, outside, the afternoon light began to wane in favor of sunset.

  “Thank you for speaking with me,” I said, rising and starting for the infirmary door.

  “Ana,” Doctor Parish said.

  “Yeah?”

  “Don’t go on the wall tonight.”

  “Trust me,” I said as I opened the door. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

  Chapter 8

  I didn’t bother to go to the walls that night. Knowing my presence could be enough to endanger my fellow survivors and dreading the idea of facing the enemy, I returned home and collapsed into bed. Upon my sister’s awakening, I told her the residing physician advised me to stay in bed. No more questions were asked.

  When my sister left for the walls that night, it was just me, my mother, and the solitude that existed within four walls.

  Nestled on the mattress, wrapped in my comforter, I tried my hardest not to cry. I dwelled on how I would tell my mother about leaving Fort Hope—possibly for good.

  I couldn’t stay—not if I was going to jeopardize the only two people I loved in the entire world. And who knew? Maybe someone at another facility could help me—expunge the virus, bacteria, or infection that was causing the Coyotes to gravitate toward me like a tidal wave wiping out a distant coastal city. I mean, it was possible, right? Especially if there were people with more advanced technology involved?

  Through the crack in the open door, I listened to my mother meander about the apartment—sweeping the floors, wiping the counters, disinfecting countertop surfaces with a mixture of lemon juice and water. I desperately wanted to go to her, if only so she could help ease my worries, but I was so terrified of seeing her reaction that I didn’t dare leave bed.

  “Ana Mia?” my mother called. “Are you awake?”

  She knows, my consciousness said.

  A mother’s intuition was never wrong.

  With a sigh, I pushed myself upright, adjusted my sling, then rose and made my way out of the room.

  My mother—busy as ever—raised her eyes almost immediately. “Ah,” she said, then offered a smile that should’ve made the world and everything within it better. “You’re awake.”

  “Sorry I didn’t get up to help,” I said, admiring the sparkling floors, countertops and cupboards. “Do you need me to help with anything?”

  “A lot of good you’ll be.” She laughed as she crouched to sweep dirt into a dustpan. “Don’t worry about it, Ana Mia. Why don’t you sit down and relax?”

  “I’d rather just crawl back into bed,” I mumbled.

  Pausing her work, she glanced up at me. “Something’s wrong,” she said. “I knew something was going on.”

  “Yeah.” I sighed. “There is.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  With a nod, I settled onto one of the dining room chairs and waited until she sat across from me before I opened my mouth. “Mama,” I said, looking her straight in the eyes and fighting not to falter under their unwavering stare. “I might have to leave Fort Hope.”

  She paled. “What?”

  “When I was on the walls the other night,” I continued, “and all the gunshots went off, it was because the Coyotes were being pulled to the walls by something. I’m… fairly sure that something was me.”

  “You?” A frown appeared. “Ana, what are you talking about?”

  “Something happened when I got bit, Mama. I’m… changing. You’ve seen my eye. You’ve looked at my arm. You know something is happening inside me that I’m unable to control.”

  “The doctors will find out,” she said. “Don’t you worry, baby. Doctor Parish is going to get to the bottom of this before you even—”

  “She doesn’t know what to do, Mama.”

  My mother simply stared.

  I cleared my throat and scooted forward in my chair. “Nothing’s set in stone yet, but if I’m a danger to everyone in the fort, let alone my family, I can’t just sit by and let innocent people become targets.”

  “You can’t go. You can’t.”

  “Mama,” I started.

  “I won’t allow it.” She shoved the chair back as she stood. “No. I won’t. I’ve made up my mind. You’re to stay here and work in the kitchens with me, whether you like it or not.”

  “Mama—”

  “Ana Mia Sofia—”

  “Stop!” I cried. “Just stop! Okay? Just… let me talk for a second.”

  My mother wasn’t used to being talked back to, let alone interrupted by someone other than Xiomara. I was supposed to be the good child—the one who listened, the one who always obeyed. Except there I was: the one defying her.

  While waiting for her to respond—to scream, to yell, to punish me for disorderly behavior—I stared at her face and tried to discern the emotion there. Anger was most prevalent, but it wasn’t directed toward me. No. There wasn’t malice in her eyes—the sheer, unadulterated need to discipline a child who, in her mind, had done wrong. Instead, there lay only fear—an unbridled sense of terror that could only be spawned from the knowledge that someone dear was in danger.

  When I knew she would speak no more, I settled back in my seat and closed my eyes. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I can’t let anything happen to you or Xiomara.”

  She started sobbing then—an ugly sound that reminded me of a
whimpering dog who’d been beaten after stealing a bone. Collapsing into the chair with a resounding thud, she bowed her face into her hands. “I knew something bad was going to happen,” she cried, starting to lift her head, but stopping before she could do so. “I thought I was just being paranoid—that I was overreacting over losing another child to the Guard. Now I know I was right.”

  “Mama—”

  “I won’t let you leave, Ana Mia. Not after what happened that first time.”

  “Something bad will happen if I don’t. I know it.”

  My mother didn’t say anything. Instead, she stood, rounded the table, and wrapped her arms around me.

  Then she began to cry.

  Unsure how to react, I reached up and took hold of her hand.

  I had to make a decision—and soon.

  My mother and sister’s lives depended on it.

  I realized I could do nothing without first knowing where I would go if I were to leave Fort Hope. For that reason, I hauled myself out of the house, locked the door, and headed to the armory in the hopes that I would run into Captain Henshaw before he retired for the day.

  When I reached the structure that housed the weapons, armor, and those belongings that had been acquisitioned by the military, I stopped. I steeled myself for a conversation that would likely leave me shell-shocked and lonely, then reached out to open the door.

  “Captain Henshaw?” I asked as I stepped into the armory. “Are you here?”

  The man lifted his head from where he stood arranging body armor along a shelf. “Ana,” he said. “You weren’t on the walls last night.”

  “I know,” I replied. “And I’m sorry. I talked to Doctor Parish and she said—”

  “That it would be best for you to remain off the walls?” the man asked before I could finish. I waited, sensing an ulterior motive regardless of his stone-cold expression. “You are aware that she knows absolutely nothing about your condition. Correct?”

  “I,” I started, then stopped—knowing, without a shroud of doubt, I could not argue his point. Sighing, I reached up to part my hair from my eyes, not wanting him to sense weakness—or, in the worst case: fear. “I’m starting to understand that.”

  “Just because the Coyotes were gravitating toward the wall doesn’t mean it was you who was pulling Them,” the captain continued, crossing the brief distance between him and the mesh that sectioned the armory off from the rest of the apartment. “For all we know, this could have been planned.”