The Dark Path of Romance: Find the aliens. Steal their toys. Save the world. Mostly, steal their toys (Kim and Angel Book 2)

by J. Judkins

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Kim turned a slow circle in the courtyard, taking in the sights. Restaurants, a welcome center, specialty souvenir shops, a graveyard, more gift shops, and a mixture of concession stands with a limited amount of goods on display. Everything seemed oriented toward separating tourists from their money.

  Everything, that is, except the graveyard.

  A graveyard in the geocentric center of the city, no less.

  She might have ignored it entirely if not for the dates on the tombstones. “Remember the Fallen,” the pamphlet had said. Had it been a reference to the thousands of dead in this cemetery?

  It was difficult for Kim to imagine a graveyard as part of a tourist attraction, unless the graveyard was the point of it. Could this cemetery be Ravenwood’s claim to fame? She didn’t know how many people visited Arlington Cemetery every year, or paid their respects at the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Wall, but it had to be substantial.

  A memorial . . . Kim’s mind flashed back to the obelisk they’d found in the warehouse. She’d been thinking of it as a memorial ever since the foreign memory had been stuffed inside her head.

  Kim fished out her cell phone and called up the photos she’d taken of it—nothing more than name tags. No help there. She returned the phone to her pocket.

  With no other ideas, Kim decided to explore. The overgrown grass brushed up against her ankles as she moved through the graveyard. It seemed clear the site hadn’t received the attention of a lawn mower in months.

  The names inscribed upon the tombstones ran the gamut from individuals to entire families. All had perished on the very same day. August twenty-ninth, a little over two years ago.

  This isn’t making sense. A death toll in the thousands would have made national news. There would have been blood drives, displaced survivors in need, charities asking for donations. Everyone would have been talking about it for weeks.

  And hadn’t Angel said the flood happened five years ago, not two?

  Kim grinned and ran back the way she’d come. The pamphlet. That was the key. Naomi had destroyed all the copies at the warehouse, but there were five missing boxes. If there were copies anywhere . . .

  She braked to a stop at the courtyard, taking a moment to catch her breath. A circular brick-and-mortar building with an overabundance of windows stood before her.

  A sign hung above the main door: Ravenwood Welcome Center.

  Kim couldn’t stop smiling.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Naomi stroked her chin to indicate deep contemplation. “I suspect that this could be a trap.”

  Melanie’s reply carried a curious inflection Naomi hadn’t heard before. “Oh, really? How could you tell?”

  Midway down the alley lay a light brown bag that bore the name First National Bank. It was surrounded by a coil of rope, the end of which trailed out beyond where they could see.

  “Are you suggesting you don’t think this could be a trap?” Naomi glanced at her companion, honestly wanting to know.

  “Sarcasm, Naomi. We call that sarcasm. Yes, it looks like a trap. It’s about as blatant a trap as a cardboard box held up by a stick.”

  “First National Bank,” Naomi mused. “That name . . . oh!”

  “What is it?”

  Naomi put on her innocent look. “Hmm?”

  “You started to say something.”

  She redoubled her look of innocence, looking away and whistling.

  Melanie stepped into Naomi’s averted line of sight. “I said, you started to say something?”

  Naomi gave it up. Either her “innocent look” needed more practice, or Melanie had become inured to its effects. “I said, ‘oh,’ as in, ‘oh, that’s a common name for a bank, isn’t it?’ That’s what I meant to say.”

  Melanie sighed the sigh of the disappointed. “Naomi . . .”

  “What?”

  “First National Bank was robbed the other day. That was you, wasn’t it?”

  Naomi glowered as menacingly as she could. “This is becoming irritating. You’re the second person to accuse me of robbing that bank!”

  “That explains the melted bank vault.”

  Naomi waved the accusation aside. “Why would you suspect me? It could have been anyone with plasma-based weaponry.”

  “Plasma-based weaponry which you demonstrated. Right in front of me!”

  “You make a valid point.”

  “Seriously?” Melanie shook her head again, but this time, she smiled as if privately amused. “Why in the world would you rob a bank? Don’t you have enough money?”

  “Money wasn’t the point of the exercise. Robbing a bank was simply another way to establish credibility as a supervillain while boosting confidence. My minions were left behind to finish up, but were attacked and themselves robbed, shortly after. It occurs to me that this could be the missing money.”

  “Any idea why it’s here?”

  “I’d like to know that as well. Do you think the bag could be a clue?”

  “That’s a trap, not a clue,” said Melanie.

  They continued to regard the potential trap in silence.

  Naomi brightened. “I have the solution. I’ll need a minion volunteer.”

  The remaining minions took a step back.

  Naomi singled out the closest, the one to her immediate right. “You, there. Retrieve the bag for us.”

  “What are you doing?” Melanie touched her arm. “You don’t know what will happen to him!”

  “There’s no need to worry. It’s only a rope-trap. What’s the worst that could happen?”

  “How can you be so callous?”

  “Callous?” Naomi pushed her glasses back further up her nose. “I’ll have you know that this specific, nameless minion is a professional! He knew the risks when he signed up, and I have every confidence he’ll succeed and get the job done!”

  “Actually,” the other minion broke in, “his name is Anderson. And none of us signed up for this.”

  “Anderson is a professional,” Naomi corrected herself. “He may not have been aware of the risks, and may not have ever signed up for this if he’d had a choice—which he doesn’t, by the way—but I have the utmost confidence he’ll succeed and get the job done!”

  With great reluctance and an inverse display of professionalism, Anderson crept forward. He placed one foot over the rope, touching the circle.

  Nothing happened.

  With exaggerated care, he reached for the bag.

  The instant his hand made contact, the rope pulled taut around his leg and yanked him off his feet. He was swept past the corner and lost to sight.

  Naomi heard a series of thumps and cries that sounded suspiciously similar to someone being mercilessly pummeled into unconsciousness. “Perhaps he’s getting the upper hand against his captor?” she suggested hopefully.

  Melanie shot her a withering look.

  Naomi’s prediction turned out to be somewhat less than accurate. The now empty coil of rope returned and settled into its original place. There was no sign of Anderson. The bag remained undisturbed.

  “I suppose not.” Naomi’s shoulders slumped.

  “Told you.”

  Naomi ignored her remark and struck a valiant pose. “But in the spirit of not being callous, we won’t allow Anderson’s noble sacrifice to be in vain. He’s given us valuable insight. We now know we need to take the bag before the trap has a chance to reset itself!”

  She spun about to address her remaining subordinate. “Minion! I need you to—”

  “Are you insane?” Melanie interrupted, gesticulating wildly to the now empty alley. “One of your people might be dead!”

  “Oh, he’s not dead,” Naomi scoffed, expelling air in what she hoped was a convincing scoff of derision to convey the appropriate amount of ridicule and scorn. “Angel knows killing them would only—”

  She blinked.

  “Yes? Killing them would only, what?”

  Naomi spoke slowly and careful
ly, mindful of her words. “Angel wouldn’t want to kill them, because she knows that if she knocks them unconscious, none of them will be able to”—Naomi’s hands grasped the air—“be replaced,” she finished, wincing even as she said it.

  “Be replaced by what?”

  “Be replaced by other minions. That’s how our system works. Dead minions are instantly replaced by other minions. A minion that would, by sheer coincidence, appear to be more or less, somewhat, almost exactly similar to his predecessor.”

  Melanie’s eyebrows raised almost to her hairline. “Inexplicably, somewhat, almost exactly?” she echoed.

  “Somewhat in every way,” Naomi failed to clarify. “Yes. And the replacement would likely respond to the same name as his deceased former colleague. It happens all the time, and is nothing unusual.”

  “Got it,” Melanie said. “I’m learning more from what you’re trying not to say than from what you’re actually saying.”

  Naomi felt a chill. Did Melanie suspect the truth? “It’s . . . complicated.”

  “How about this?” Melanie’s voice dropped into a confidential whisper. “Instead of sending more people and waiting for identical replacements, why don’t we circle around the building and find out who’s on the other side of that rope?”

  Naomi brightened. “That would be far more effective than my plan.”

  She beckoned the remaining sentry closer. “You approach from that side. I’ll cover the other direction. We’ll trap Angel between us.”

  The sentry stood with legs wide and arms crossed, as if annoyed at the order. “Weapons?” he snapped.

  “Yes, I have one.” She held up her gloved hand to indicate her blaster. “Thank you for asking.”

  He didn’t move for several seconds, but then obeyed. Naomi watched him go, pondering his reaction. “I’m not entirely certain, but do you think that particular minion might be resentful?”

  “Oh, I can’t imagine why,” Melanie said, with the same sarcastic lilt as before. “What do you want me to do?”

  “I want you to stay here.”

  “Why? I can help.”

  “This is the safest place. If the monster kills you, you won’t be coming back.”

  Melanie’s lips curled into a smile. “And you would, wouldn’t you? You all would. Thanks for confirming my theory.”

  Naomi turned away. I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that. “Please, stay here.”

  “No. I’m going with you.”

  Naomi wrestled with growing impatience. The last remaining minion had already passed out of sight. If they were going to trap Angel between them, it needed to happen now. “Please stay. You’re important to me. I don’t want to lose you.”

  “You’re not going to lose me. We’re going together.”

  Naomi spun about and broke into a sprint. Melanie’s angry protests followed her every step of the way. She ignored them. It was better this way.

  One hand stretched out for balance as she rounded the corner. A smaller passage was to her right. Naomi raced past it without giving it a second thought. Another turn, and she’d completed the circle. The far end of the trapped alleyway came into view.

  The rope lay perpendicular to her path, extending beyond the right and left corners. She expected to see her minion on the far side, but there was no sign of either him or Angel.

  “Over here,” a voice called from somewhere behind her.

  Naomi spun about. That had sounded like her own voice! For a moment, she was overcome with confusion. A trick? But why would . . .

  Struck by a sudden fear, she sprinted back the way she’d come. The streets were empty. Her beautiful blonde companion was nowhere to be found.

  “Melanie!” Naomi cried. “Where are you?”

  “I’m here!” Melanie called out from the alley.

  The same voice contradicted itself a second later. “No, stay away!”

  This time Naomi didn’t hesitate. It didn’t matter which voice had been genuine. Both were coming from the same place, further down the alley.

  At the far end, she saw it—a hideous, green-skinned abomination stood snarling at her with wide, unblinking eyes. Its elongated, misshapen arms ended in razor-sharp claws which . . .

  Common sense kicked in.

  Okay, no, it isn’t.

  This was not a creature of legend. This was someone in a tacky, low-quality monster costume. Melanie kicked ineffectively in its grasp, her hands clutching at the clawed hand around her throat.

  “Stay . . . away . . .” Melanie’s eyes rolled back, and she went limp. The monster disdainfully tossed her aside and spread its arms wide.

  Naomi stalked forward, fists clenched, her vision tinted red.

  She remembered the rope trap the instant after it jerked her off her feet.

  All of Naomi’s trap-related questions were now answered, but the knowledge came at a terrible price. The trap itself wasn’t being operated by anyone, she now realized. It was part of an elaborate machine. She might have even admired its effectiveness and craftsmanship, were she not being made a victim of it.

  The machine whipped Naomi about in a tight circle and slammed her into the far wall. It allowed no time to recover before she found herself dragged through the dirt and into a second arcing circle to hit the same spot again.

  Pain had never been debilitating to her kind, but massive shock from cumulative damage certainly was. The second strike felt less severe, but it was still more than enough to scramble her senses and keep her from attempting anything that might allow her to save herself.

  Most of the machine’s energy was spent by the time she hit the unyielding wall a third and final time. But it was more than enough. All of her senses went dark and silent.

  The dark cold of the void embraced her.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  The windows of the welcome center were filthy, but Kim was still able to scan the interior. She could see an information desk, a giant-sized map taking up most of the wall space behind it, and a display case with two rows of brochures.

  Kim focused on the display. The darkened room made it difficult to see, but the cover art on the brochures seemed identical to the ones she’d seen at the warehouse.

  Jackpot.

  She circled the building, hopeful that there might be another door she could use. But the emergency door in the back turned out to be of a type that couldn’t be opened from the outside.

  With no other options, she searched off the beaten path until she found a large rock. No one’s going to miss one window. It’s for a good cause. Have to save the world, and all that.

  The side window shattered easily, but noisily. Kim waited beside the broken window for several minutes, listening, alert for anyone who might come to investigate.

  There was nothing. Not even birdsong. It was as quiet as could be.

  Reassured, Kim used the rock to clear away the last of the broken glass.

  The interior seemed dusty, but not as filthy as she’d expected. She slipped off her sunglasses and climbed inside.

  The display-case brochures were all identical. Kim selected one at random, took a seat behind the “Welcome to Ravenwood” desk, and began reading.

  The document turned out to be an information guide on the historical site, not a tourist guide as she’d first suspected. It read almost like a documentary; Kim found herself reading passages, then rereading them again. The history it told wasn’t a history she remembered. There was no mention of a flood, except as an incidental occurrence, an almost inconsequential side effect to the true main event. Instead, it described a timeline of historical events that hadn’t actually happened.

  According to what was written, the invading aliens had targeted Ravenwood as part of a retaliatory strike. Thousands had been killed in an instant. The document made a cursory mention of how the governments of Earth weren’t able to resist, but what was noteworthy to Kim was that the overarching conflict was mentioned only as an afterthought, as if this world-shaking info
rmation were common knowledge, and nothing more.

  Kim took a moment to think it through. If she’d been reading a summary about the Battle of Midway, she’d expect similar references to World War II. The war itself would only be mentioned in passing.

  Kim couldn’t help but draw the parallels between this imagined reality and Maris Dorman’s background summary for her currently unwritten science fiction novel. They were practically identical.

  She set the paper aside.

  Angel’s theory had been right.

  Two weeks ago, Angel had compiled a list of suspects to identify patterns, hoping to find signs of alien activity. She’d assumed the aliens had been abducting citizens for some nefarious purpose, altering their memories, and then reinserting them back into their old lives with no one the wiser. The list had been based upon the assumption that her own memories had been taken from her.

  When Angel had first shown her the list, Kim had dismissed the idea as ridiculous. But now, given this new evidence, Angel’s theory was looking more and more legitimate.

  The brochure confirmed everything. Memory manipulation; that was the aliens’ power. They hoped to conquer the world by convincing its populace they’d already fought back, and lost. Badly. If anyone doubted, show them the graves and the thousands dead. Give them an example of a once thriving city now lost to ruin. Let them read the altered history, revised and reformatted for that very purpose. The people’s own memories would convince them they’d been one of the lucky survivors. Why resist the aliens at that point? The invasion had happened years ago, and they’d lost.

  No one would ever realize the truth—the truth that, only yesterday, they had been free.

  The ability to manipulate memory didn’t seem all that impressive at first glance, but Kim didn’t doubt it could be devastating if used properly. Phillip K. Dick had built his career writing science fiction books that explored those very possibilities. The ability to manipulate memory certainly made things easier. Why go through the time, effort, and expense of actually conquering a world when it could be done retroactively? That had to be what the aliens planned.