“It’s a fucking waste of money,” she had said and then watched his face crumple. The boyish grin slid from his face and he hung his head, turning the unopened box over in his hands. He didn’t say much after that. He stored it in the basement without bringing it up again. Matty eventually found it, and they did take it out once, but the magic Paul had hoped for wasn’t there.
A cross between a hiccup and a sob popped from her mouth and she covered it up with her hand. Had she always been this much of a bitch? How much of the distance between her and Paul was because of her? He wanted to have fun with his kids, for fuck’s sake, and she ruined it. And now his stupid impulse purchase was going to save them.
“Paul can’t drone for shit.” Martin interrupted her thoughts, and irritatingly, he was correct. Paul, it seemed, could not drone for shit. The tiny ship swayed and lurched in the air, struggling to find purchase, and if there was a pattern to the flight, Krista couldn’t figure it out. Obviously, the goal was to get the drone to the tree house, but Paul seemed to be struggling to get it there.
The rope dangled behind it, perhaps making it more difficult to steer. Krista couldn’t manage to take a breath and she gripped the couch cushions so hard her hands cramped.
“He’s not going to make it,” Martin said, leaning forward to open the window further. He flicked a latch and popped the screen out, giving him space to poke the rifle barrel out the window.
“Martin, stop,” she said, but he didn’t listen.
“They’ve noticed.” He wasn’t looking at the small drone anymore. His attention was upwards, looking at the aliens. Krista had no idea what he was talking about. As far as she could tell, nothing had moved.
Across the street, the small ship was steadying as Paul, presumably, got used to the controls. It stopped its drunken weaving and headed toward the treehouse.
“He’s going to do it,” Krista said.
“No, look. One of the black things noticed, that one, see?” Martin pointed, but she couldn’t see what he was looking at.
The drone was nearly at the treehouse. She didn’t have a direct view of the entrance, but through the small window on the side, she thought she saw Matty make a move to open the front door. The drone was no more than ten feet away and appeared to be at height with the entrance. Paul had done it. This was going to work.
“It’s moving! They’re going after the kids!” Martin took one hand off the rifle and pushed her off the couch to the ground. Before she could do anything, he leaned forward, the barrel of the rifle pushed far out the window.
“No,” was all she had time to say before he fired.
Heather
Heather watched the garage door open halfway. The view to the interior was partially obstructed by the cars in the driveway, but she was still able to make out Matt’s dad and Mr. Gardner crouched at the back.
All the houses surrounding the tree house were elevated with downwards-sloping driveways that led to the street. Although the front door to the tree house angled toward the top of the street, it was almost a direct, straight line from the garage into the fort. All Mr. Cutler needed to do was fly the drone right at them. They were watching from the window, prepared to open the door as soon as the little craft got close.
“Where’s my mom?” Heather said the question out loud, more to herself than out of an expectation of an answer. She could see the two men, but that was it.
“I can’t see her,” Matt replied. “Maybe she stayed in the house?”
Stayed in the house. Her mom, who came to every school event, every recital, who stayed by her side in the hospital for two solid days when she was little and had her tonsils removed. Her mom who threw herself body and soul into her only daughter, who cheered her every success and gave her comfort at every setback. That was the mom who stayed in the house.
“Something’s not right,” she said to Matt and she wasn’t able to keep a note of panic out of her voice. “Mom wouldn’t miss this. She’d want to see me. She’d be there with your dad. Where is she?”
If it had been her dad missing, she wouldn’t have thought anything about it. He was generous with her, but distant, never quite understanding how to treat her. He obviously enjoyed the concept of a daughter and would endlessly brag about ‘his little girl’, but he didn’t show any real interest in understanding her life. If he was missing, that would make sense. He always had more important things to do.
Matt didn’t answer her. His attention was totally focused on the drone and what his dad was doing. Heather turned away from the door and took out her phone.
-Where are you? She wrote the text with shaking fingers, auto-correct doing most of the work for her. -Why aren’t you in the garage?
Three dots appeared on the screen right away, but no response came up. Almost like her mom was thinking of an answer.
-Too scared to watch, her mom finally wrote.
Something was off. Her mom was lying. The intuition resounded in her brain and somehow, she knew she was right.
In her mind, she replayed the scene when the aliens attacked. There had been so much going on at that point, it was difficult to remember clearly. But one image stuck out, something she hadn’t spent much time considering until now, but with her mother’s absence, it took on new meaning.
Her mom, down on one knee in front of the house. Mr. Gardner, pulling her in.
Why would her mom have dropped to a knee? Why didn’t she run inside the house with everyone else?
Before she could wonder further, the drone wobbled out from across the street, scooting under the half open garage door and struggling to find purchase in the air. Mr. Cutler was clearly not an accomplished drone pilot, as the tiny craft lurched and wobbled.
“Come on, Dad,” Matt murmured.
“What’s happening?” Abby stood on tiptoes behind them, trying to see over their shoulders.
“He’s not going to make it.” Matt sounded desperate, almost broken, but Heather couldn’t make herself give comfort. It was too much. She’d spent two solid days being strong for Liz, being strong for Matt and Abby. When was someone going to be strong for her?
Where was her mom?
The tiny drone struggled to find a straight line to the tree house, the rope dragging behind causing it to fly funny. Mr. Cutler nearly grounded it a few times.
“None of the aliens are moving,” Matt said. “Look.”
Up in the sky, the black aliens continued their placid hovering, seemingly content to let this small craft make its way to the tree house.
“I knew it.” Matt slapped his fist into his hand. “They won’t go after small objects. It’s only humans they’re after.”
Heather had no idea why Matt made that assumption. This was the first time she’d heard this theory, but she stayed silent. As the drone got closer, more of her attention was pulled to it and the near-literal lifeline it dragged. The trajectory stabilized as Matt’s dad seemed to gain confidence with the piloting.
When it was ten feet away, and looking close to making it in, Matt said, “I’m going to open the front door. Both of you get back.”
“I’ll do it,” Heather said, and pushed him back with one arm. She didn’t want to be left alone with Abby, having to comfort her if something happened to Matt.
Matt looked like he was going to protest, but he stepped back with his sister and she opened the front door a crack, grinding her teeth in anticipation.
She waited for the laser fire and… nothing. She held her breath and pushed the door open even further. The aliens didn’t react at all.
“Watch out for the drone, it’s nearly here.” He pointed, and she saw the drone was no more than four feet away. It was almost close enough to grab, only a few more inches.
An explosive bang came from her right and she heard a sharp whiz of something inches from her face. It sounded like a gun shot. It was a loud crack that echoed through the neighborhood, completely different than the chainsaw-rip of the lasers. The drone dropped, landing
on the stairs of the tree house, directly outside the entrance.
“Get down!” Matt jumped up and pulled her back. They both covered their heads, waiting for more shots, but there was only silence.
After a moment, Matt said, “Did something shoot it?”
“I don’t know.” Heather got to her feet and looked around. “Is everyone okay?”
“What was that?” Matt crept to the front door, keeping low. “Was it the aliens?”
“I don’t think so. It came from the side. I think it came from my house.”
No one said anything for a moment, and then Matt stood up as well. “Both of you get to the back. I’m going to see if we can still get the drone. It dropped close to the entrance. We should be able to still pick it up.”
“Be careful.” She watched Matt creep towards the open door, hunching his shoulders as if bracing for a blow. The closer he got, the more he straightened.
“They really won’t shoot inside.” Wonder colored his voice.
She didn’t share his happiness though. The drone sat outside the door, about halfway down the stairs. At least a full two paces in the open air, two steps at least. As she was considering what to do next, there was as rustling behind her.
“I’ll get it!” Abby jumped to her feet.
The next moments unraveled in crystal-clear slow motion. Almost like looking outside her body, Heather saw her arm reach out and try to grab Abby, but her fingertips only brushed against the cloth of her shirt. Matty’s mouth opened in a wide O, yelling at her to stop, but she was too quick. She ducked under his arms and stepped out into the open air, onto the steps of the tree house. Easily three feet outside. Jackrabbit quick, she grabbed the drone and leapt backwards as the alien pods struck.
She was fast. They were faster.
A laser blasted out of the sky and Heather swore the only reason it didn’t cut Abby’s legs in half was because she had jumped with her legs spread apart. The chainsaw-rip cut the air between her legs, and a perfect hole appeared in front of the door, the size of a dinner plate. She could see smoke rising from the edges. Abby skidded across the floor, clutching the drone to her chest.
She had been outside for two seconds, tops.
Abby’s face was a perfect shade of white. Even her lips had lost their color. Matt couldn’t say anything, he opened his mouth a few times, but nothing came out. Heather was first to break the spell. She grabbed Abby by the shoulders and shook her, hard.
“Don’t ever do that again,” she screamed into Abby’s face. Hot, sickening anger tore through her and it took an effort of will to stop.
“I’m sorry.” Abby burst into tears and threw herself into Matt’s arms. She said it repeatedly, her face buried in his shirt. Matt was also pale white and stroked her hair while murmuring in her ear.
“It’s okay, Abs,” he said, but Heather could tell he was lying. It wasn’t okay. Nothing would ever be okay again.
More than anything, this frozen tableau of Matt hugging his terrified and sobbing sister to his chest brought reality into stark focus for Heather. The speed of the attack. How absurdly fucking lucky that little girl was not to be dead.
Two seconds.
Jesus Christ, they really were trapped.
Krista
As the sun dropped below the horizon, Krista could let herself relax, if only a little. The kids at least had food and water, now that the rope-transport was working. In Martin’s kitchen, she sat at the table, drinking a glass of juice and wishing Paul was with her.
The plan with the drone worked, despite Martin almost ruining it. In her mind, the scene of Abby darting out and narrowly avoiding the deadly beam played on a loop. But sometimes, the memory would sicken and distort, and in those versions, Abby was hit. She could see it perfectly, the mist of blood that blossomed into the air as Abby’s lower half cut apart, intestines spilling onto the wood floor.
Why would her mind do that to her? Abby wasn’t hit, Abby was safe. She saw her make it back inside. Her stupid, fearless little girl, who always tried to one-up Matty and do everything her wonderful older brother did. Of course she’d dart out to get the drone.
But against all odds, it worked. A dumb series of events that never should been successful. Paul had texted her, remarking how lucky they were.
Ha. Lucky.
Long ago, a friend of hers was coming out of the ocean when on vacation in the Caribbean. Only feet from the shoreline, she took a funny step on a sea shell and ended up falling weird. The same sort of fall that would happen to you a couple hundred times over the course of your life, except in this one, she landed on the perfect angle and pinched a nerve in her neck. She was instantly paralyzed and ended up face down in the water, unable to move, unable to breathe. Everyone thought she was joking and didn’t do anything to help her. She nearly drowned in a foot of water, in plain sight of the beach, surrounded by hundreds of people.
Fortunately, they realized what was happening in time and turned her over. Paramedics came and after a few tough surgeries, she made a full recovery, although her neck still bothered her in the winter. When Krista visited her in the hospital and heard about the experience, her first reaction was, “Are you ever lucky!”
Her friend kind of shrugged and said, “Wouldn’t lucky be not breaking my neck in the first place?”
Krista felt the same way about her situation.
Lucky was living on a planet not currently under attack by child-murdering aliens. It wasn’t your ten-year-old daughter surviving getting shot. Lucky kids didn’t get fired on in the first place.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a tapping noise coming from outside. Startled, she pushed back from the table, knocking down the chair as she stood. Were the aliens attacking the house now? She heard the banging again and pinpointed the location. It was coming from the kitchen window, the one that looked onto her house.
She went to the window and pulled the curtains open. Across the strip of lawn that divided the two houses, no more than twelve feet away, was Paul. He was at their kitchen window, smiling and waving at her. Krista was abruptly giddy and giggling like an idiot and she pulled the window open.
“Hi, Kris.” He kept his voice low, but against the silence of the night, she could hear him perfectly. “Since we can open windows, we can talk like this. It’s not perfect, but it’s better than not seeing you at all.” He waved again.
There was so much she wanted to say in that moment, a lifetime of words she could use to fill the physical space between them. I’m sorry for cheating on you. I’m sorry I let us drift apart. I’m sorry I take you for granted. I’m sorry I never told you how much it bothers me that you take me for granted. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I wish, I want, I hope.
Instead, she simply said, “Hi.”
They looked at each other across the space, and she could see the tired exhaustion in the drooping corners of his mouth. He hadn’t shaved and the hair on his face grew in patchy and made him look like a crazy hobo. His simple brown hair was sticking up in odd places.
“I love you.” The words tumbled from his mouth, falling over each other in a hurry to come out.
“I love you too.” She was both surprised and delighted to realize she meant it.
“I don’t know what to do.” He laughed, a brittle and fake thing, before rubbing his hand through his hair.
“We’ll figure something out. We always do. At least the kids have food and water now.”
“The move with the rope will buy us some time. We can shuttle enough back and forth to keep them going, but it’s not permanent. I already sent the first batch of supplies over. I don’t know why the aliens don’t attack a storage container being pulled by a rope. I guess they can tell the difference between that and a human?”
“Did you put in a book for Matty? You know he likes to read. And he said Abby was asking for Fuzzy Bear.”
“Yup,” he nodded. “All that, plus containers of water, some sandwiches and whatever else I could think of t
o put in that would make them comfortable. Blankets, some pillows, toothpaste, ear plugs. I wasn’t sure what Heather wanted. I was hoping to get a similar line going for your house, but,” he shrugged, “the drone is ruined now.”
Martin chose that moment to walk in. Krista supposed he heard her talking. He hadn’t said much after the shooting; instead he retreated to the basement to recount their food supplies. She turned to say hello, when he roughly pulled her away from the window.
“Get away from there, what’s wrong with you?”
She shook her arm out of his grip. “It’s fine, Martin, the aliens won’t shoot through windows.”
“Aliens. Is that what we’re calling them now?”
“It’s what everyone is calling them,” Paul said from across the yard. He had to raise his voice to be heard. Martin seemed to notice he was there for the first time and tried to pull himself together.
“Nice trick with the drone, Cutler. Too bad one of those things came down at the last minute. If I wasn’t there to shoot it away, the kids would have been killed. You need to be more careful with your stunts.”
Krista’s jaw dropped. She was about to rip into Martin, but Paul spoke first.
“Is there anything Heather would want?” Typical Paul, she thought. Defuse the fight by pretending it wasn’t there. Don’t address the comment, move on to something else. “If you could toss it over, I could include it in the next load.”
Martin stared for a moment and shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t know what she likes. Teenage girls, you know?” He had the grace to look sheepish, at least. “Sharon would know, what does she say? Where is she, anyway?”
Paul licked his lips, and bit at the top one. Whatever he was about to say, he was lying. Krista knew the signs.
Aliens and Ice Cream Page 11