by Kody Boye
“It’s fine,” she said.
“Are you going to be okay where you are? I mean, on the outside of the tent?”
“I need something to keep me awake so I can hear what’s going on,” the young woman replied. “I can deal with a little chill.”
“If you’re sure,” I said, closing my eyes.
I wanted so desperately to reach out to touch her—to draw her closer so she wouldn’t suffer—but knew that it wouldn’t be worth it. Asha, stubborn as she was, was determined to remain awake for the duration of her watch. Whether she’d wake me up was debatable, but regardless, I couldn’t dwell on it.
Sighing, I closed my eyes and huddled in for the long night.
With a second person’s warmth, I fell asleep almost instantly.
I rose the following morning to shivers.
“Asha?” I asked, reaching out to shake my companion. “Are you awake?”
“I,” she started, then jolted into a sitting position, nearly slamming her head against the bench above our heads. “Sheesh, Ana. You scared the daylight out of me.”
“More like the nighttime,” I offered with a short laugh.
“Crap.” She lifted her head. The interior of the center was dappled with sunlight and resembled little more than an illuminated white room. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “We’re both fine.”
“I guess we’re getting up then?”
With a nod, I waited for her to scoot out from under the bench. I took note of the snow that had accumulated along the windows, creating banks that would shield us from outside view. I’d never seen snow get so high in this part of Texas. Then again, I’d grown up in San Antonio—where it rarely, if ever, snowed. At least on the outskirts of Stonewall, we were safely secluded from anyone or anything that might be wandering around outside.
But still—there was no sign of Jason.
Frowning, I crossed my arms under my breasts and shivered as Asha pulled peaches out from her backpack. When she offered one, I took it and bit into the juicy morsel with thanks.
“We’re not going to be able to survive off peaches for long,” I offered, glancing back at the backpack that lay propped against the wall.
“I know.” Asha sighed, taking a bite out of her own peach.
“Did you hear anything during the night?”
“Other than the snowstorm? No. Did you?”
“No,” I replied. “Which worries me. Jason should’ve been here by now.”
“Maybe he had to lay low for the night. I mean… it did start storming not long after we got here. Maybe he’ll show up this afternoon.”
I hoped so, because I wasn’t sure how long we could wait for the third member of our party. Our food was diminishing, and as much as I liked eating wild Texas peaches, I knew they wouldn’t sustain us. We’d start getting sick without protein before the day was up. And running off sugar for days? That wasn’t good for someone who was sedentary, much less two girls who still had to make a several-day trip.
I finished my peach, palmed the core, and stepped toward the doorway.
“Where are you going?”
“I need to pee,” I said, turning to face her. “Besides—we should probably consider what we’re going to do about food.”
“You mean hunting?”
“Yeah. Do you know how to skin a rabbit?”
“My dad taught me growing up,” Asha said. “He figured it’d come in handy someday. But Ana—we can’t shoot a rabbit with these rifles. It’ll blow them to pieces.”
I swore—atypical of my usual response—and turned to look at the outside world.
I guessed we would be living off peaches.
Jason didn’t arrive that afternoon, nor as the sun fell and another storm descended upon Central Texas. Huddled in the corner of the room, wrapped in the quilt together as the snow continued to fall, I stared at the door and dreaded the decision that lay before us.
“Asha,” I said, hesitant.
“Yeah?”
“I think we have to start considering the possibility that Jason might not be coming.”
“You mean—”
I nodded.
Neither of us wanted to say the word, but it lingered in the air. It was on the tips of our tongues, in the back of our minds, in the forefront of our consciences. I could taste it on my lips like a candy that’d gone sour long ago—and realized, there was literally nothing we could do to change our situation.
Asha and I couldn’t wait forever.
Even if he was still alive—even if, by some twisted circumstance, he had managed to survive Stonewall—we couldn’t afford to wait. We were growing weaker by the day. We needed all the strength we had to move on.
“I say we wait ‘til morning,” I said, “and if he isn’t here by then… we go.”
Asha didn’t respond. She merely leaned her head against mine and started to cry.
It was a hard reality to face, an even harder one to acknowledge.
I reached down, took her hand, and squeezed.
She squeezed back.
When Jason didn’t arrive the following morning—when, as dawn crested the horizon, we packed our bags, loaded the gun, and headed out into the brutal cold.
“Well,” Asha said, with a hint of tears and a scarlet color upon her nose. “I guess this is it then.”
“He’d understand,” I said.
With a nod, she adjusted her weapon and led us down the road, toward the highway that would eventually take us to Austin. We’d have to walk for hours to make up for the day we lost, but we could do it. It was only a matter of moving one foot in front of the other and making sure we continued at a steady pace.
A dull ache flared at the back of my head and spread along the curves of my skull—a miasma of nutrient deficiency caused by only eating the natural sugars within the peaches. I’d’ve killed for one of the venison steaks—even if it was cold and hard to chew—but without Jason or his pack, I’d have to suffer in silence.
“You have a headache too?” Asha asked as I reached up to rub my head.
“It’s because we haven’t been eating properly,” I replied, massaging my temple and lifting my head to view the frozen landscape.
I tried my hardest not to imagine how the weather might progress. As snow parted and gravel crunched beneath our feet, I began to entertain the nightmare that we would get caught out in the open—that a storm, the greatest of the century, would descend upon us, leaving two simple girls from Texas in the worst predicament possible. We had little more than jackets upon our backs, jeans on our legs, shirts on our chests—and though our boots were thick and insulated, they’d do nothing to protect us if the weather truly worsened.
Fact of the matter was: we’d die out in the cold if we didn’t find a place to take shelter by the time night fell.
“Hey,” Asha said, reaching to take hold of my arm. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” I lied. “Don’t worry about me.”
My tone—as callous as it happened to be—was enough to make her draw her hand away, and though initially guilty over the feelings I might have caused, I didn’t dwell on them.
With a sigh, she turned her head and continued to lead us onward.
We arrived at Johnson City that following night. After breaking into a gas station and finding most of the interior in decent shape, we scrounged through what remained of the supplies until we found and ate years-stale peanut-butter candy bars. Then we retired in the employee’s lounge.
“That candy tasted so bad,” Asha said, gagging as she removed the peanut-and-almond mixture from her teeth with a disposable toothbrush.
“I know,” I replied, not in the least bit thrilled myself. “But at least our headaches are going away. Right?”
“I guess. Yay for artificial preservatives, right?”
“We can load up on the stuff here and continue,” I said. “You still have that map you pulled from the front door?”
Ash
a unfolded the sprawling map of Texas and set it down, gesturing to where we were in Johnson city and then to where Austin lay. It seemed like an unfathomable amount of miles away. “We still have a ways to go,” she said. “I say we push ourselves tomorrow so we can get there the following day.”
“By push, you mean—”
“Walking during the night. If possible.”
“Sheesh,” I said, running a hand through my short hair. I returned my attention to the map in front of us.
We decided that we would leave the small towns and cities behind and divert onto a county road—which, undoubtedly, would provide its own sets of challenges. Though I imagined it would be paved like the rest of the roads, I couldn’t see how we would find shelter. We could walk for hours without finding any sign of habitation. If the weather continued to deteriorate like it had been…
“Asha,” I said after a moment’s consideration.
“Yeah?”
“We need to find coats and maybe a few extra blankets before we leave Johnson City.”
“You’re scared about the county road shortcut, aren’t you?”
“We need to get to Austin as soon as possible,” I said. “The longer we’re on the road, the greater the chance of dying of hypothermia or starvation. I know you’re hesitant about it and would rather take the longer path, but—”
“We both agreed we need to move quickly,” Asha said.
When I nodded, and when she sighed and pressed a hand against her temple, I felt an immense surge of guilt.
I knew we were taking a risk in braving the county road and whatever happened to be—or, better yet, might not be—on it, but I also knew we couldn’t afford to waste time. We’d lost an entire day waiting for Jason to appear, and when that hadn’t happened…
I closed my eyes, then opened them to look outside.
“So we’ll raid a few houses,” Asha said. “Not like we haven’t done it before.”
“Yeah,” I replied. “Easy peasy, right?”
Asha didn’t say anything. She simply leaned back against the front counter and closed her eyes.
After resting for a few short hours, we spent the rest of the early evening scoping out houses on the far side of the city—breaking into them and snagging anything we could use. We searched specifically for clothes: winter coats, sweatshirts, overcoats, and winter boots. The former we found quite easily, as the initial invasion had taken place in the latter part of that first year. The latter was more difficult, but we eventually found thick, insulated designer boots to wear on the last leg of our trip.
Once we finished, we huddled in the master bedroom of the last house we’d searched, eating peaches and nut-filled candy bars—all the while dreading what the last night in civilization would bring.
“Do you feel guilty?” Asha asked after we finished eating.
“About Jason?” I sighed as I glanced toward the nearby window—which, with the blinds lowered, offered little in terms of light. “I do, yes, but there’s nothing we could’ve done.”
“I hope it was quick,” my friend said. “That whatever happened happened quickly, and he didn’t suffer.”
“So do I.” I lowered myself onto the queen-sized bed. “So do I.”
Sitting there, I looked down at my arm, testing the flex of my fingers and the overall level of pain just above my wrist. Though it hadn’t been hurting as much over the previous few days, I hadn’t unwrapped it. I dreaded unfurling it and looking upon the wound that hadn’t been tended since we’d left what remained of Fort Hope.
“Want me to help you with that?” Asha asked.
I nodded, extended my arm. The girl unwrapped the bandage, careful to undo the last of it at a slower pace. When it was revealed to the world, the bite appeared all but healed—scabbed over and grisly-looking, but not as horrific as I feared it would be.
“It looks good,” Asha said, testing and then lightly prodding at the surface of the wound. “I mean… it still hurts, right?”
“A little bit.”
“And it doesn’t look like it’s infected,” she said, looking up. “Although…”
The way she paused concerned me. I reached with my free hand to touch my face, but stopped as she sighed. “What?”
“Nothing,” she replied. “It’s just… your eye.”
“What’s wrong with my eye?”
“It’s turning gold.”
“What?”
Asha gestured to the attached bathroom, then toward the expansive mirror that sat above the sink. As she’d said, my eye was turning gold. No longer did it just appear dusted with flecks. My brown eye had taken on a lighter, almost caramel shade, and was quickly overcome by the hue that would ultimately make me heterochromic in but a few days’ times.
“How long has this been going on?”
“It’s been getting worse over the past few days.” She crossed her arms as she looked at our reflections. “I mean… if it isn’t bothering you, I don’t see why it’s such a bad thing. It actually looks kinda pretty.”
“It makes me look like a freak.”
“Ana Mia.” Asha sighed as I stormed out of the bathroom. “Please don’t act like that.”
“Don’t act like what? This?” I laughed. “My eye’s changing color and I’m not supposed to freak out? Is that what you’re saying?”
“All I’m saying is that you’re healthy,” she replied, raising her hands as if to surrender. “I swear, Ana. I meant nothing when I mentioned your eye.”
After collapsing onto the bed and kicking off my shoes, I rolled onto my side. I stared at the wall, not wanting to look at the friend who had reminded me my world was changing. I hadn’t had any visions—at least, none that I could remember—and as far as I was aware, nothing had been following us. So why was I mad? Was it because I was scared of what might happen, or was it because I didn’t like the new me? I was still the same person—at least mostly—and though my eye was changing color, it wasn’t like I was hideously grotesque.
“I guess it could be worse,” I offered. “I could have become a hunchback or something.”
“Or have lumps growing out of your face. Or zits. Or moles. Or lesions.”
“Hey!” I laughed, rolling to face her. “Let’s not make this a contest or anything.”
“I’m just saying. It could be worse.”
“I know.”
Outside, a bright light cut through the darkness and illuminated the homes beyond the one we were in.
Asha swore.
I rolled off the bed and burrowed beneath the frame as deeply as I could before facing Asha, who scrambled to follow my lead.
“You okay?” I whispered.
“I’m fine.” Asha peered out beyond the mattress—where light could be seen streaming in through the cracks in the blinds. “How many do you think there are?”
“You mean aliens?” I asked, looking out to find that the light was fading, and the Harvester departing with it. “I don’t know. I mean… I imagine there’s probably just as many of Them as there used to be us, if not more.”
“So you’re talking ten, maybe twenty-billion?”
“Something like that.”
“I guess it’d make sense, then, that there’d be more of Them patrolling these lonely parts of the country. You’d think most people who’ve gotten used to Them just hide out during the night. I mean, that’s the time They usually come out.”
“That we can see,” I pointed out.
“Yeah.” Asha bowed her head. “You think we should just stay under the bed tonight?”
“That might be safer.”
“Under the bed it is then,” she said, then laughed when she added, “We’ll pretend we’re having a slumber party and this is our fort.”
“Yeah,” I smiled, then sighed. “Our fort.”
It was the only thing keeping us out of sight.
With that in mind, I propped my head on my arm and closed my eyes.
We would be safe for the night. I had no
doubts of that.
Chapter 13
The county road we journeyed on was long and arduous, flanked on both sides by pine trees that stretched to the heavens. They looked as though they could hide any and everything that wished to kill us. As we walked, taking extra care to remain vigilant of our surroundings, I considered the fact that we still had one, if not two days’ worth of travel and wondered if we would find a home to hide in come nightfall.
My thought—as warranted as it was—didn’t need an immediate answer. At sunrise, the world was beginning to brighten, and with it our hopes for making it to the city.
“You feeling okay this morning?” Asha asked, as if sensing my discomfort.
“Yeah,” I said, swallowing a lump in my throat. “This road just makes me nervous is all.”
“I know, right? It’s like… like we’re on the road to Hell or something.”
Hell wasn’t the word I would’ve used, but it was fitting, considering its deathly presence at this early hour of the morning. There was no birdsong, no snowfall, no wind rustling the pine needles, nor was there any sign of wildlife to indicate we were in a place inhabited by anything but the norm. If anything, it reminded me of a cemetery—of a place where death reigned and nothing in its right mind would ever set foot unless it was absolutely necessary.
With a sigh, I reached down and fingered the knife attached to my waist. I practiced drawing it from its sheath several times before leaving it be. Though it was nothing compared to the semi-automatic in Asha’s arms, it would at least provide some level of protection if we were to get attacked by anything.
If being the key word.
I dreaded being out there at night—of being forced to stay in the woods; of being made to be amongst the potential Coyotes; of having to remain beneath the copse of trees as Harvesters took flight above us. We wouldn’t hear them at all—would only see them as their lights came beaming down from above. And once we were caught in Their cross-hairs, surely that could only mean—
I stopped.
Asha turned. “Ana Mia?”
“I’m all right,” I said, waving her off as I began to walk again. “Just scared is all.”