by T. M. Catron
“And what will the rogues do when they find out I can speak to them and yet am not a hybrid?”
“You’ll have to keep it secret until we decide.”
Mina snorted. “We.” As if now he were giving her some kind of say in the matter.
“If you tell your brother, he’ll want to expose the hybrids for what they are. People will panic, attack, try to defend themselves. The rogues might not run away. They’ll feel cornered, and a cornered hybrid is a force to be reckoned with.”
“You said humans could overpower the hybrids.”
“With planning, knowledge, and numbers, yes, but surprising everyone with the information and then stepping back to see what happens is suicide.”
“Do you really think I’m that stupid?”
“No, but once you tell people, you can’t take it back. It’ll be out of your control.”
“Then help me get the rogues out. The lodgers can’t afford to look for someplace else. The hotel is all they have! People will die if they leave. They’ll die if the rogues stay. And they will die if they try to confront the rogues. So help get them out.”
“You can’t just get them out. They’ll have to die.”
Mina didn’t say anything else for a long time. The adarre irritated her skin, and she rubbed them. She’d be an outcast now. Unless she told those closest to her, she'd have to be extra careful about her body. She watched Doyle closely as they descended a steep slope. Had he hoped for this? Did he seek to ostracize her from those she loved?
But she’d already become an outcast, simply by choosing to associate with Doyle. By choosing to keep his secret, she had separated herself from other people.
“Now that I look like a hybrid,” she said, “I’m in danger at the lodge. I’ll look like you but lack the strength to defend myself.”
“That’s why you can’t stay. Get your friends and your brother, and convince them to get out.”
“And just leave everyone else to the mercy of the rogues?”
“Have they harmed anyone?”
“Not yet.”
“And they probably won’t. Humans provide cover.”
“Until they don’t, and then they’re expendable.”
Doyle nodded.
“Am I expendable?” They stopped beneath an overhanging boulder.
“No.”
Mina took a sip of water and wiped her mouth with her sleeve. “I need to know if I can trust you.”
“We’ve been here before too.”
“Yes, but after today, I need to know.”
“After all this?” he hissed, stepping close. “I’ve lied for you, killed for you, given you my confidence, access to the oldest technology in the universe, and you still don’t know if you can trust me?”
His body was close to hers. Too close. Somewhere in the back of Mina’s mind, a warning sounded. It’s more than just blind loyalty, isn’t it? You won’t leave him—you can’t.
“I need you to say it,” she said.
Day 110 Panic
“DON’T TELL ANYONE,” WHISPERED SOLOMON. Lincoln, Alvarez, Nelson, and Carter had returned to his tent where he had been begging Evan to come out. “We can’t know there aren’t more of them around.” He nodded at Nelson. “I agree that we should move very carefully here.”
“As far as I’m concerned,” Carter said, “that settles it for now. I need a nap.” His face had turned red on the way down the mountain. Now it had lost all color. He nodded to them before picking his way through the tents.
Lincoln thought he could use a nap, too. His entire body ached although he hadn’t dug a grave into the side of a mountain like Nelson and Alvarez. They looked like Lincoln felt—shoulders drooping in exhaustion, blisters on their hands, hair sticking to their faces in the humid air. Defeated.
All their questions and observations and ordeals had led them here to a dead end. They had finally hit a wall Lincoln didn’t feel like climbing. So what if the Glyphs had spies? What would Lincoln do if he found more? Nothing, he thought, except satisfy my own curiosity. He nodded his agreement and walked to the guardrail.
And he had Mina to think about now. Knowing she lived made him feel less reckless. They could start a new life together. The world had changed, yes, but neither of them was prepared to give up living. The lodgers would accept them if they could prove they were willing to live by the rules, to be members of society. Their current mistrust of Lincoln and his family was based on events beyond his control. Solomon understood. Eventually others would too.
Lincoln prayed Iverson’s crew had left for good. After leaving Iverson’s body for everyone to find, Lincoln couldn't imagine them returning for any reason. Now if he could just be certain no more lived at the lodge, he would feel better about staying. He eased down over the guardrail onto a well-worn path.
The rushing of the creek drew him down to its bank. A dip in cold water would relieve the pain in his body. He pushed through the dense foliage, eager for the rest from climbing. He had just scrambled through a magnolia patch when heard voices. He stopped.
A man and woman stood on the near side of the creek. The man he recognized—Doyle. What was he doing here? The woman standing next to him spoke quickly, a hand gripping his arm. She didn’t seem distressed, yet she didn’t seem happy, with a frown marring her face. Doyle said something to her and moved closer, leaning in as if he were about to kiss her.
She’s probably a spy too, Lincoln thought as he stepped aside, changing his mind about a dip in the creek. He glanced back to make sure he hadn’t been noticed and saw them break apart. The woman wiped her cheek, then moved a hand up to her hair to tug at her ponytail. Mina used to do that.
No longer caring about his accidental voyeurism, Lincoln peered closer. Same height, same hair color, but thinner and stronger . . . Mina.
Doyle reached for her again, catching her arm and pulling her close. She tried to pull away.
Forgetting his aches and pains, Lincoln launched himself through the foliage and at Doyle. He caught the shorter man off guard, knocking him over, but Doyle was on his feet again before Lincoln realized his surprise attack had worked.
Mina yelled something. Lincoln stood and swung at Doyle who grabbed his arm and had him locked in a standing half-Nelson before Lincoln could congratulate himself.
“I suggest you don’t start another fight anytime soon, Surrey,” Doyle said. “You’re not up to it.”
Lincoln’s anger boiled over, and he tried to flip Doyle over him. But despite Lincoln’s height, Doyle’s feet seemed glued to the ground. He kicked Lincoln behind the knees, sending him face first into the muddy soil.
“Doyle, stop!” yelled Mina, but Doyle shoved Lincoln’s face into the dirt. “Stop!” she screamed again and grabbed Doyle’s arm. Doyle, however, only released Lincoln when he stopped struggling.
Mina helped Lincoln to his feet. He panted heavily, spitting mossy earth out of his mouth. “What were you thinking?” she asked. Lincoln felt smug, thinking Mina was talking to Doyle, but she was glaring at him.
“Me? You took off on your own . . . I was worried . . . with him?” Lincoln’s face ached, but the only thing really injured was his pride. Mina wrapped her arms around him anyway, and he hugged her tightly, his chin grazing the top of her head. He glared at Doyle who watched the reunion with a blank expression.
“I thought I’d lost you forever,” she muttered into his shirt.
“Me too.”
When she gazed up at Lincoln, he tore his eyes away from Doyle. Tears glistened on her cheeks. Lincoln blinked away his own and stepped back. She needed to know. She was already entangled with Doyle, but she needed to know what kind of man he was. “Mina, he’s dangerous.”
Mina turned to look at Doyle and wiped her tears for the second time. She half-laughed. “Aren’t we all?”
“No, I mean . . .” Lincoln watched Doyle. What would the man do if Lincoln exposed him?
“He means,” Do
yle said, “he saw me kill Baker in the woods. There was a reason.” Doyle looked at Mina. They made eye contact before Mina looked up at Lincoln.
Lincoln glared at Doyle. “So you have no problem admitting to murder.”
“It’s all about perspective. She did have a gun in my face.”
“I guess kidnapping me is all about perspective as well?”
“What?” Mina asked. Her gaze fixed on Doyle again.
He shook his head.
Lincoln straightened to his full height. “Liar!”
But Doyle ignored him—he had eyes only for Mina. “Halston was going to kill him.”
“And you somehow forgot to mention it?”
Lincoln looked from Doyle to Mina. “Of course he wouldn’t tell you he had me kidnapped and tortured!”
Doyle glared back at Lincoln. “I saved your life, if you remember. Halston and Baker would have killed you right on the road! And if you’d cooperated earlier, I’d have got you out without having to kill Baker.”
Lincoln sniffed, and dirt flew into his nostrils. He scrubbed his face with his sleeve as he said, “Yes, so you could get the drawings yourself.”
“I don’t need them,” spat Doyle.
“What drawings?” Mina asked.
Doyle and Lincoln both tried to answer first, but Lincoln said, “Alien symbols we found under the mountain.”
“The adarria?” Mina asked Doyle.
Lincoln frowned at the strange name. A look passed between her and Doyle. Doyle’s held a warning in it.
“Yes,” Doyle said.
“What’s going on?” asked Lincoln, uncomfortable at being left out of the conversation.
Mina frowned. “You knew, and you never said anything . . .” She was calm—too calm.
“There was a reason,” Doyle repeated.
Lincoln said, “Because you’re a stinking son of—”
“No,” Mina interrupted, still glaring at Doyle. “He’s worse than that.” She lowered her voice, but her eyes flashed. “He’s a traitor.”
Doyle’s eyes grew dark; she had hit the mark. Lincoln tensed, remembering the man’s quick reflexes.
But Doyle composed himself before saying, “Remember what I told you earlier?”
Mina was quiet, listening.
“I will do anything for you, but I’ll never be able to explain everything I’ve done to your satisfaction. Your brother got tied up with the wrong people.”
“Yeah, you,” said Lincoln.
Doyle waved his hand at Lincoln. “Just . . . shut up, Surrey. Mina, I made sure he got back here safely.”
“Safely?” Lincoln choked out the word.
“Just . . . shut up, Lincoln!” snapped Mina. “I’m trying to think.” She squared her shoulders and looked at Doyle again. “You could have told me.”
“And then what?” he asked.
“You should have told me.”
Doyle reached for her arm, but Mina moved away. “I need a minute, or a day, or something,” she said. “Just . . . leave.”
Lincoln looked at Doyle, ready to insist on his exit, but Doyle nodded at Mina, ignored Lincoln, and walked away up the slope with his rifle slung over his shoulder.
“Let’s go, Lincoln.”
“What have you been doing with him? And what was all that about? What was that word you used? Is it Latin?”
Mina glanced sideways at Lincoln as she stomped up the slope, heading for the hotel. She shook her head but put her hand on his arm as if to see if he were really there.
Lincoln decided not to press her just now. She obviously was keeping something from him. But Doyle was keeping something from her. Then he remembered he needed to tell her about Iverson. Now that Doyle was out of earshot, he could tell her about his theories. “There’s something going on that I think you should know.”
“He saved my life,” she said.
“Doyle? Are you sure?”
“What do you mean, am I sure?” Mina scowled as she hurried up the slope, and Lincoln had a stitch in his side trying to keep up with her. His bum leg quivered beneath him.
“Wait! I only meant he claimed to save my life too, but that’s not exactly what happened.”
Mina stopped and looked at Lincoln. “No? Then what did happen, Lincoln?”
Doyle had stopped Halston from knifing him and Baker from torturing him. And then he’d appeared out of nowhere to tell him about Mina and the lodge.
Mina seemed to understand Lincoln's silence because she sighed and began hiking again. They were almost to the parkway.
“Just because he saved your life doesn’t mean he can control you,” Lincoln said.
Mina laughed, confirming Lincoln’s suspicions—her relationship with Doyle went beyond a chance meeting in the woods. She didn’t say anything else until they reached the guardrail. “I can’t believe I trust him,” she said bitterly.
“Trust or trusted?” he asked.
Mina gave him a forlorn look and hugged him again. Then she stepped back to check him out. “You look terrible,” she said.
“You look . . . different.”
“I probably shouldn’t make an appearance up there just yet.”
“Did you really shoot someone?”
She nodded. “I’ll have to explain later.”
“Does it have anything to do with Doyle?”
“Yes and no. Listen, I’ll come back in a little while when it’s dark. Will you tell Solomon and Carter I’m okay?”
“Let’s just wait and tell them together.”
“Give me a few minutes.” Mina squeezed his arm before trudging off back down the mountain. Lincoln hoisted himself over the rail and rubbed at the dirt ground into his beard. Although he had only just dared to believe he would see Mina again, their reunion had been different than he’d expected. She had changed—she didn’t need him. Or maybe he had changed. The invasion’s changed everyone. Stupid, for thinking Mina would want to start a new life with her brother. We’re already living new lives. Different lives.
He hadn’t told her about Iverson. She needed to know. As Lincoln rounded the corner, a man ran by, bumping into him. Lincoln’s bum leg shook under the added weight, and he stumbled.
“Watch it!” Lincoln shouted after the man. Then he looked at the parking lot. A large crowd had gathered there. They were shouting something.
***
Mina hated leaving Lincoln as soon as she'd found him. But despite Doyle’s warning to keep her mouth shut, she was afraid of spilling everything to him.
And why not? Lincoln has a right to know. He’s in the middle of it too.
Mina stomped through the woods, seething one minute, wishing she could cry the next, but when tears would not come, she decided anger would serve her better. More angry with herself than with Doyle, Mina chided herself for not listening to her own instincts. She knew what Doyle was, what he was capable of, and just when she had decided to give in, he had personally betrayed her.
Twice in one day.
Mina was in the middle of counting her grievances against Doyle when he appeared in front of her. She was oddly satisfied at the chance to continue their argument.
“You can’t even give me space when I need it,” she said.
“Something’s not right.”
Mina was ready for blood. “Your words are not right. They mean nothing, Doyle, if an hour after you tell me to trust you I find out you were lying all along!”
Doyle walked over and reached for her. “Mina, not now. Listen.”
She shrugged his hand away, not willing to be deterred, but she listened all the same. Birds chirped noisily in the trees above. Doyle leaned in to put his arm around her waist, but she stopped him with a hand, ready to push him away. “What are you doing?”
“Shh.”
Shouting drifted through the trees. Mina froze, listening. Doyle reached beneath the hem of her shirt for the gun hidden there and drew it. “Something’s going on at the lodge,” he said. He checked the weapon before
putting it in her hand. “If you feel threatened, don’t wait to decide if they are hybrid or human.”
The shouting stopped. Lincoln was up there with Carter and Solomon. Mina’s old sense of panic rooted her to the spot. She had learned to control fear for her own life, but the thought of something happening to her family was more than she could comprehend. Her brain stuck. She looked at Doyle helplessly.
“Did you already tell someone about the hybrids?”
Mina shook her head and then stopped. Unable to look Doyle in the eye, she whispered, “I may have hinted to Solomon, and Lincoln’s friends . . .” She looked at Doyle now, paralyzed with guilt. And she had called Doyle a traitor.
Then a gun went off, the shot echoing down the valley. The familiar cracks spurred Mina from her state of fear. She moved away from Doyle, her gun ready, but he grabbed her arm. “Stay here,” he ordered. “I’ll check it out and come back for you.”
“Fat chance,” she replied.
Doyle looked as if he’d expected this. “Stay close.”
***
Mina struggled to understand what was happening when they reached the lodge. A large crowd had gathered in front of the lobby door. Solomon Mills stood outside the ring of people with a rifle in his hand. The crowd parted, and Evan ran out of it to his grandfather. Blood ran from a cut above his eye. Mina again hid her gun under her shirt. But Doyle kept his out.
“What’s going on?” Mina asked Solomon as they approached. The onlookers kept their distance from Solomon’s gun, but they didn’t disperse.
“These folks think Evan was somehow to blame for Iverson’s death.”
“He’s dead?” Mina glanced at Doyle. Solomon did too, looking the stranger up and down, quietly measuring him. Doyle remained silent.
Lincoln pushed his way out of the crowd. “Iverson was in some sort of gang. He had the alien symbols on his chest. Evan heard us talking about it and told everyone.”
“Yes,” said a man Mina only knew by sight. “And anyone who hung around with him could be a spy.” He glared at Evan.
“We don’t know that,” said Lincoln.