by Ann Gimpel
She let her body sag against his. There had to be a simple explanation for what had happened. Pulling back, she asked, “What time is it, anyway? I don’t understand. How'd we get separated? Why couldn’t you find me?”
“Past four. I’ve spent the last three hours hunting for you.”
It felt like an iron band was tightening round her throat. Her stomach clenched. “But that’s not possible—” she choked out. Then she remembered the westering sun.
“Christ, no!” Josh grabbed her shoulders, shaking her. The pressure from his fingers hurt and she yelped. “There’s something wrong with your eyes.”
Her dark glasses had gotten pushed to the side during their hug. She patted frantically at her face, but it felt the same to her.
“What? What do you see?” She stretched a hand toward him, but he drew back. That, more than what he’d said, made her heart race. Moving briskly, she repositioned one of the truck’s side view mirrors so she could look at herself.
Impossible! Gasping, she half fell against their battered, white GMC pickup. Instead of their usual hazel-green, her eyes were an unnaturally bright blue. She grabbed hold of the mirror strut so she wouldn’t fall over. Somehow she ratcheted the passenger door open and crawled in. Disoriented, heart trying to pound its way out of her chest, she shut her eyes. Aw shit, they can’t be blue! They just can’t!
A long time passed before the other door opened.
The truck settled on worn springs as Josh got in. When she didn’t hear the snick of the key in the ignition, she opened her eyes to find her longtime boyfriend staring apprehensively at her. “You're thinking of leaving me here?” she asked.
He didn't nod yes or no. He scooted closer to his side of the cab. “You could be turning into one of them,” he said softly. “I don't know. Don’t know if I can chance bringing you back.”
She held out a hand, fingers stretched wide, as she searched for telltale signs that would verify if the Loki had poisoned her with their mutant genes. Back before everyone had taken to living in compounds, Loki abductions had been common. People would disappear for a while. When they returned, they weren’t the same. Contagious, the alien's mere touch transmitted a twisted genetic code that conscripted humans into the Loki ranks.
“Cori.” Josh’s voice was sharp, startling her.
She met his gaze and waited. If he kicked her out of the truck, she’d be dead before morning. Humans weren’t the only ones affected by the Loki. Even the resident deer herds had become predatory—with a ravenous taste for flesh.
“My hands aren’t any different. See.” She held both toward him, turning them front to back so he could also see there weren’t any of the telltale brown splotches that would mean she’d been assimilated. She struggled on, throat clogged with fear. “No one’s ever said changes in eye color have anything to do with them. Please. Please don’t leave me here.”
She thought of the huge compounds constructed by groups of survivors after the Loki “invasion.” They kept the Loki out but they also kept the rest of them in. She and Josh had been desperate to see the sky, to feel something other than carefully filtered air on their skin, so they’d agreed to take sweep duty, leaving before dawn. The plan had been to time their return to mesh with a goods exchange from another compound slated for five that day. In retrospect, she couldn’t believe they’d been that reckless. The every-other-day sweep, where volunteers looked for signs of the Loki, often turned into suicide missions.
Josh drew a hand down his face, distorting his rather ordinary features. Long, black hair hung untidily past his shoulders; deep-set brown eyes reflected grief and uncertainty. His corduroy shirt and faded tan cargo pants had long rips in them. A week’s growth of dark stubble dotted gaunt cheeks. “Shit, Cor. I don’t know. The Rules are pretty clear—“
She knew the Rules. They were crystal clear. If in doubt, do not bring anyone inside who could contaminate the compound. Anyone. “I’d wear my dark glasses and go to our room and just stay there till ... till I was sure I wouldn’t be a threat,” she pleaded, hating the fear in her voice.
“How do you know when that is?” His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. “One of the markers of becoming them is that you take others down with you,” he lectured almost verbatim from the Book of Rules.
“You could watch me ...” she began. Then she shook her head. She knew how big a risk it would be for her to return. She wasn’t sure just how the Loki got their claws into people. Nobody knew. The secrecy shrouding the internal workings of Loki society had worked to their benefit. People hadn’t been able to reverse or sabotage what they didn’t understand. The Rules were clear.
She pushed her door open so hard it banged against the stops. “Give me the rest of the water and the food in your pack, then.” She walked to his side of the pickup. “At least I won’t be hungry when the animals finish me off.”
Josh blew out a sad-sounding breath. When she looked at him, she saw tears glistening. They’d been together for over six years. She knew he loved her, even though he didn’t say it often. Desperation shone from his eyes. In that moment she understood how hard this was for him. Almost as tough as it was for her. Except he would live. And she— Well, she probably wouldn’t.
He shoved a two-liter plastic bottle at her along with his backpack. Then he got out of the truck. It was her turn to back away. “You shouldn’t touch me.”
“Wasn’t going to.” He turned and began rooting under his seat.
She was pulling at the pack straps, adjusting them to fit her instead of Josh’s broad torso and shoulders, when she heard the tromp of his boots in the dirt. Looking up, she saw he was holding out a gun and her mouth fell open. “Where did you get that?” she asked. Firearms were in short supply, supposedly because they were useless against the Loki. She wondered if that was just one more lie, engineered to control everybody.
“Never mind,” he growled. “Just take it. And these.” His other hand was full of shells. “It’s loaded, so keep the safety on.” He untied a ratty, black jacket from around his waist. “Take this, too. Gets cold at night. There are matches in the pack, but not many. And a flashlight—” His voice broke. He turned away.
“I love you,” she said softly. “I’ll come back if I can.” She knew that last was a lie. So did he. Once someone left a compound on other than approved business, they were never allowed back in.
“Love you too, Cori,” he said in muffled tones. She could tell he was struggling not to break down completely.
No percentage in dragging this out. She took off the pack and found a place for the gun and ammunition, wrapping them securely in Josh’s jacket. Her heart ached. She tried not to look at him, afraid if she did she’d race into his arms, maybe give him whatever she’d been infected with, and then they’d both be goners.
Nope. If Josh was going to make it, she had to leave. Pack back in place, she felt tears welling. Spinning resolutely on her heel, she half-ran back the way she’d come. She remembered a thick grove of evergreens about a mile away. If nothing else, she could spend the night under their shelter. The gun might buy her another day or two. Maybe.
She heard the roar of the truck’s engine. Tears fell in earnest as she walked up the abandoned Jeep road. It had been stupid of them to leave that morning, but life after the Loki Observatory accidentally opened an entry portal for the aliens had become so structured, so militaristic it grated on them both. Many people had simply left the compounds, preferring death or assimilation to the never-ending straightjacket of Rules. The ones who stayed behind, albeit safe, were mostly rigid, self-righteous assholes, anyway, leading the lemming charge right off the cliff. She’d learned early on to keep her mouth shut. Rabble-rousers often met with unfortunate accidents.
* * *
Corina had to stop walking. She was sobbing so hard she couldn’t breathe. A stitch in her side burned. Sinking into the dirt, she dropped her head into her hands and cried until she felt sick and wrung out. When she final
ly looked around her, dusk was falling. She scrambled to her feet. Gun or no gun, she had to do a better job of finding somewhere to settle for the night. No point in throwing her life away. It would be gone soon enough.
As she walked, she thought about the gun. In all the years she’d been with Josh, she’d had no idea he had it. Cori realized she’d almost forgotten their other lives. The ones where she’d been an emergency room doctor and he a policeman. Though they hadn’t known one another then, they’d told each other what their lives had been like before the Loki came. That was one of their favorite games, curled together in bed at night. They’d played Let’s Remember until they were so sad they had to quit. Even being sad was an improvement over life in the compounds, though. At least you felt something.
Josh had gotten kicked off the compound police force because he’d refused to punish—savage—civilians who’d broken minor regulations. Breaking major regulations often meant execution, coldly, swiftly. And those in control had completely demeaned her skill as a physician. Cori slammed a fist into her thigh. People had turned into such ignorant sheep she could hardly stand to be part of them.
She spotted the evergreen grove. It was the only group of trees where half of them weren’t dead. Ducking under a fragrant bough, she entered the rough circle of living wood. It smelled wonderful. Corina wiped a layer of dust and grit off her face and sat on a thick bed of pine needles.
Slipping the pack off her shoulders, she pulled out the water bottle and took stock of what food she had. As she munched on a withered apple, she thought about the Observatory and The Accident. “Pah!,” she spat, realizing she’d capitalized the event in her mind just like it was in the Book of Rules. The aliens had been named after the Observatory that had provided just the right frequency to allow them to open a wormhole and land their ships. Apparently, the Loki had been observing this quadrant of the universe for generations, looking for a way through. Cori wasn't sure. But it didn't matter now.
All that was hearsay. Urban legend. No one who’d talked to the aliens had ever returned to tell anything but lies. Once people understood what was happening, they’d pulled out all the stops—including atomic weapons—to keep the Loki at bay. None of it had helped. People had died in droves from radiation sickness, but it hadn’t seemed to affect their enemy at all.
The aliens were incredibly well organized. They infected themselves into human bodies like pathogens—turning people into mindless slaves—ensuring their toehold on the planet would morph into a permanent occupation. And it had. They took most of the water and virtually all the decent land for growing crops and raising animals. Food in the isolated compounds that were all that remained of human civilization was genetically modified.
Corina examined her hands again; they looked normal enough. For a moment, she wondered if her eyes had changed back, then she realized how unlikely that was. Chewing on dried out bread and processed cheese that tasted like plastic, she took a swallow of water to help the unpalatable mass on its way. It was definitely getting darker, but the grove felt protective somehow. She thrust her pathetically short supplies back into the pack, leaned it on a tree and settled against it. When she looked up through the branches, she saw a blaze of red-orange where the sun—oblivious to the Loki—beat a path toward the far side of the world.
She buttoned her sweater all the way up, then pulled Josh’s jacket on as a further hedge against the cold. It smelled like him and her eyes flooded. “Well,” she said out loud, because she did not want to cry again, “at least I made sure he was safe.” She wondered what he was doing and pictured him in their ten by twenty foot room heating soup on the one burner stove. She hoped he’d be okay. Men were fragile like that. Even more dependent on relationships than women, though they’d rather die than admit it. She laughed wryly through her tears.
“That’s just great,” she sputtered. “I’m turning into a philosopher on what’s probably going to be my last night on Earth.”
Even with the sweater and jacket, she was still cold. Gathering her hair, she moved it out of the way so she could pull the jacket’s hood over her head. She was just tugging at the cinch strap to try to keep her head warm when a rustle somewhere outside the trees made her heart beat crazily. Mouth suddenly dry, she smelled her own fear, sour and acrid.
Better to die on my feet. She grabbed the gun and flipped off the safety, scrabbling for balance as she lurched upright. Her eyes darted from side to side. Where had the noise come from? It was a swooshing sound like an angry wind might make, with the occasional snap as if someone had stepped on a branch. The air had an electric feel to it, making the small hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. A sudden brightness blinded her.
“So, that’s what happened to you,” a voice boomed from behind her. Corina twisted round, gun at the ready. It felt odd in her hands. Try as she might, she couldn’t bring herself to simply shoot point blank at whoever had spoken. Even if she’d had the guts to fire, she couldn’t see anything to aim at. One hand flew up to shield her eyes.
“Who are you?” she demanded, squinting against the unnatural brilliance.
“More to the point,” the voice went on, ignoring her question, “how did you manage to escape from me? I gave you enough dope to drop an ox.”
“What?” Fury began to displace fear.
“You heard me.” The light dimmed enough for her to see a human-like form shimmering behind it. Corina clutched the gun tighter in a sweat-slick hand.
“Don’t even think about it,” the voice said, but sounding grudgingly interested. “Wherever did you come by that?”
Just shoot the damned thing and be done with it, her inner voice screamed. Corina’s index finger tightened against the trigger, then spasmed as bitter cold shot through it. When she attempted to move her other hand, it was frozen against the metal of the gun’s barrel. She cried, trying to pry her hand away. The pain was so intense her vision wavered. Clamping her jaws together, she clung desperately to consciousness.
“Uh-uh. Not smart.” It looked as if the thing was waggling a finger at her from behind the pulsating light. A wicked-sounding laugh punctuated its words. “Not that you really have much choice. Your friends won’t let you back into the compound. Not now.”
“What do you want?” Corina growled, voice low. “If you’re going to kill me, get it over with, dammit. Otherwise, let me go. I'm good as dead.”
The light swirled into patterns, forming a multi-hued vortex that was beautiful in a macabre sort of way. When it cleared, a robed and hooded figure stood before her. It shook back its cowl, revealing long, gray hair and a pair of the same weirdly blue eyes she’d seen in her truck’s rearview mirror. A strong jawline, smooth skin, a gravelly voice, and large-knuckled fingers made it tough to tell whether the humanoid was male or female. The shapeless, beige robe didn’t yield any clues, either.
Hands on hips, the humanoid arched a brow and sighed, “Temper. Temper. I suppose it goes with that red hair of yours, though. I do need you to hurry. We should get out of the open before the night’s much further gone. You do know about the predatory changes in the local fauna?”
“What if I told you I’d rather stay right where I am?” Defiance lent an edge to Corina’s tone. Is it one of the Loki? Is this how they subdue us? With rational arguments?
“I’d just drug you again.”
Corina’s fingers had returned to her to control at some point during the brief conversation. They still ached, but she forced one to tighten around the trigger of the gun.
“Stop that!” The voice cracked like a whip. “You’ve already seen what I can do. I need you whole for my purposes. But I will hurt you if I have to.”
“What purposes?” Fear made her voice harsh and raspy. Cori started to tremble from far more than the drop in temperature.
“All in due time. Gather your things. Follow me.” When Corina hesitated, the robed figure added. “The end result will be the same. You will come with me—willing or no. I guarantee it
will be much more pleasant for both of us if you accompany me under your own steam.”
“Own steam?” That was an idiom. English. An anachronism left over from when people used steam power. Cori felt dumbfounded. “Y-you’re human?”
“What the hell else did you think I was?” the figure growled. “Loki don’t look anything at all like us.”
“You’ve seen one?” Fascinated, Corina leaned forward in spite of herself.
“Your things.” A gnarled finger pointed at Corina’s pack.
A rustling sound broke the uneasy silence between them. From the way her captor’s head whipped about, it was easy to guess the noise meant problems. “Do you know what’s out there?” Corina asked nervously.
“Deer.” Her captor—human?—peered intently into the encroaching gloom.
It did not matter. Desperate, confused, knowing she might not get another chance, Corina swallowed her distaste for violence, raised the large bore handgun and fired. The cowled figure grunted, swaying from side to side. Blue mist sprayed from the other's unnervingly blue eyes. The mist burned Cori where it touched her. Cori stepped out of its path, batting out flames on her jacket sleeve. Minutes ticked by. Breath whistled in and out of lungs that surely had to be filling with blood, but the other did not fall over.
Adopting a shooter’s stance from lessons taken so long ago she barely remembered them, Cori girded herself to fire again. Arms straight out ahead of her and elbows locked, she squeezed the trigger. The gun kicked in her hands. Cori stared at her nemesis not ten feet away. She felt sick, head whirling dizzily. Even swatting at spiders had once been beyond her, and now she’d shot a living creature—twice. So much for the Hippocratic Oath.