They stared at each other for a beat, and with a roar, Martin charged him, throwing out his own punches. Paul put up his hands instinctively and stumbled backwards when Martin’s first shot hit him on the jaw.
He tumbled to the ground and could feel gritty powder on his tongue from where his teeth clacked together. He tasted blood. Martin was on him, dropping his knee onto Paul’s chest, and then punches were coming from every direction. A jarring knock on his ear, something slapped his neck, a solid shot on his forearm.
In the background, Krista’s screams reached him, but it was nothing he could concentrate on. He tried to fight back, but his arms couldn’t seem to do anything, and every time he took them away from his head, Martin was there to punch him in the face.
This is what getting beaten up feels like.
Then it was over. Through his swollen eyes, he saw John pull Martin off. He rolled to his side and blood poured from his mouth onto the clean, white linoleum of the kitchen floor. His teeth moved when he pushed at them with his tongue.
He heard John and Martin yelling at each other, but he couldn’t make himself focus enough to listen. From his vantage on the floor, he saw feet leave the kitchen, presumably Martin and John, and then Krista was beside him, crying, pushing back his hair.
“Are you okay?” Her hands flitted from his face to his body to his hands. “Why did you do that?”
He didn’t trust himself enough to talk yet. He pushed up to a sitting position, and his stomach roiled while the room swam in and out of focus. Copper blood filled his mouth, and he spat.
“Get away from me.” He didn’t look up.
After a moment, her hands left his body, and he heard her get up and leave the kitchen.
Perfect. Not only was he such a pussy he couldn’t keep his own wife satisfied, he couldn’t even beat a guy up properly. His head ached, and his teeth rattled in his gums. Leaning on the cabinets, he pulled himself up to the sink and leaned over and opened his mouth, letting thick cables of bloody drool pour out. With no concern for the water, he turned on the tap and soaked his head underneath.
When he raised his head, he could hear Martin and John still arguing in the living room.
“He fucking attacked me, John, what was I supposed to do?” Martin’s big voice boomed through the house, but he couldn’t make out John’s quiet response. The conversation came to him one-sided, with only Martin’s point of view.
“You tell him that. I’m not the one who started anything.”
Pause.
“Fine by me. Just keep him away from me.”
Pause.
“Ah, I don’t know. We’re all on edge. He was pissed about something.”
I fucked your wife.
Something. He was pissed about something. That’s how Martin described it. He didn’t seem remotely embarrassed or apologetic, it’s like this was all business. Sometimes a guy just fucks another guy’s wife, no reason to get upset about it. These things happen.
Paul wet a dish towel and used it to clean up his face, being careful not to press on a spot that hurt. Which was everywhere. His eye would be swollen shut by the end of the day.
His thoughts were interrupted by a crash from the front door and his breath caught. What now? He didn’t have enough mental energy to deal with another crisis. Were the aliens coming into the house? He looked around for anything he could use as a weapon.
“Daddy!” That wasn’t the voice of an alien, it was a girl. He left the kitchen and went into the front hallway. The front door was open and Martin’s daughter, Heather, was in the house. She had her arms wrapped around Martin’s broad frame and buried her head in his chest. Something black and boxy was in her hands. Martin looked confused for a moment and then hugged back. John and Krista were there, and like him, their mouths hung open.
“Heather. How are you here?”
She untangled herself and wiped her nose with the back of her hand.
“This.” She showed them the black box. “It lets you walk.”
None of the adults said anything, and she looked at each of them.
“We can go outside now.”
Matt
Of course, it was Heather who saved them all. Technically, Liz killed the alien, but Heather was the one who got the transmitter and used it to move outside.
His dad summarized all of this in a note and included the alien device in the box they’d been pulling back and forth between the houses, with instructions to hold it in their hands and walk to the house.
Pete and Abby stared at him as he finished reading the letter. He grinned and showed them the tiny device.
“We’re leaving.” He explained the plan and how the transistor worked while Abby clapped and danced around the treehouse.
“This will cover all of us?” Pete’s face remained grim, even with the news, and Matt realized he hadn’t seen Pete smile once since his escape from the junction box.
“That’s what my dad says.” He held up the note. “I’m not sure though. I think we should go one at a time.”
“Why?”
Matt struggled to explain his concern. “We don’t know the effective range of the transmitter. It can shield at least one person, but it must have an upper limit. What if it works by weight? Or mass? Is it by proximity? We have no idea. If I had to guess, I’d assume it’s a combination, and this thing can shield two people, tops. Let’s be cautious and go one at a time.”
“Whatever you say.” Pete shrugged, and Matt wanted to shake him by the shoulders; do anything to get him to wake up. The Pete he knew was full of smiles and dumb jokes and bombastic stories. He didn’t understand what to do with this broken version. With Heather gone, it was difficult to be strong by himself.
“Who wants to go first? Also, we should take the box and then put the transmitter back in it so the next of us can go.” Neither Pete nor Abby raised their hands. “Abby? If you go first, we can watch and make sure.”
“No way.” She took a step backwards.
“I’ll go,” said Pete, and grabbed the transmitter from Matt’s hand. “If it doesn’t work, then at least it will only be me who dies.”
Before Matt could respond, Pete squared his shoulders, picked up the box, and stepped outside the tree fort. He squinted up at the sky, nodded to himself, and walked down the steps. Matt rushed to the door and looked at the aliens, trying to gauge if they were reacting, but he couldn’t detect movement in any of them. Pete went across the street, not running, but putting a hustle in his step. And miraculously, nothing happened. The aliens didn’t move or respond in the slightest. Heather had done it.
Pete crossed the front lawn to his house, where his dad and Mr. Gardner were waiting for him, all smiles, handshakes, and pats on the back. Matt saw Pete drop the device back into the box and he hauled at the belay line to pull it back.
“You’re next, Abby.”
“I’m not going by myself.” She shook her head and hugged fuzzy bear tight to her chest. She hadn’t been without the bear for days now.
“I can’t let you go last, Abby, mom would kill me. It has to be you next.”
“No.” Her lower lip stuck out and tears pooled in her eyes. “Don’t make me go by myself, Matty.”
“You don’t need to be scared, Abs. You saw Pete, you hold the device and you’re safe.”
She shook her head again. “No.”
This was a pickle. He couldn’t leave Abby behind. But if she refused to go, they'd be stuck. He finished pulling the box into the tree house and picked up the device. The weight seemed inconsistent with its size, almost as if ultra-dense metal was used in its creation. No visible seams or openings interrupted the dark exterior. The flashing green light was the only marking. No way to tell how it worked by holding it.
“Okay, I have an idea. Hop on my back.”
“Like a piggy back ride?”
“Yeah. Hopefully, we’ll be close enough so we’ll seem like a single person. Then we cross our fingers that these things work
by proximity and not weight.”
“Fuzzy bear is light, so that will help.”
“Good point. Hop on.”
He knelt, allowing Abby to climb on his back. She hugged his neck, holding Fuzzy Bear against his chest. He hooked his arms around her legs and kept the transmitter in his hand. His knees shook when he stood up and it wasn’t the weight.
“Here we go.” If he spent any time thinking about what he needed to do, he wouldn’t do it, so he forced his foot forward. One step, two, three, and they stepped outside.
“Matty, I’m so scared.” Abby tucked her face into his neck and the hot moisture from her tears reminded him to hurry. Her breathing was crumpled paper.
“It’s fine. It’s fine. We’re fine.” His breath came in short gasps. He wanted to run but was afraid that would draw attention. The aliens floated above, acting like they weren't paying any attention. Or was it a ruse? Were they watching? Over there, did that one move, even a little? He whimpered, a near-silent sob, and kept his eyes focused on the ground in front of him. Abby sobbed into his back. Step, step, step. Don’t think. Don’t think. Move. Underneath him, the ground transitioned from street to asphalt. His driveway. Less than fifteen feet. Step, step, step.
“You’re nearly here, Matty, a few more steps.” His dad cheered him on and then his feet hit the front porch. He looked up to see only five feet remained to the house. Beneath a broad smile, his mom cried tears of joy.
The sight of them broke his nerve, and he ran the rest of the way, barreling through the front door, falling into the entrance of the house. Arms enveloped him in a giant hug, his dad crushing him with enough strength to push the air from him. His mom’s hands stroked his shoulders, his hair, his arms, all the while holding Abby to her chest.
Eighteen was too old to carry on like this, but he supposed alien invasions were an exception. He closed his eyes and let the hugging go on for a moment. When he opened them, he saw Heather, off to the side, standing beside Pete. She wore a new outfit, complete with a t-shirt at least one size too small that clung to her body. Her arm was in a sling. He self-consciously patted his hair down, wishing he had time to change before seeing her again.
“Hi,” he said, moving to stand in front of her, while the adults caught up with everyone else. “What happened to your arm? Are you okay?”
Heather tried to shrug but winced instead. “Hi. It’s fine. I tackled an alien.”
“You did what?”
“It seemed like the right thing to do. It was on Liz.” She smiled, a real one, and it highlighted everything about her he found beautiful. All he wanted was to do hug her but wasn't sure if that would be appropriate, or if it would be bad for her injury.
“I’m glad you-” was as far as he got before she grabbed and pulled him close. Their bodies pressed together, and he returned the embrace, wrapping his hands around her waist.
“I missed you.” She spoke into his ear, secret words that belonged to only them.
“I missed you too.” He didn’t even hesitate before saying it.
The moment could last forever, and he’d be fine, but Pete stood by himself off to the side, shuffling his feet on the ground, so Matt extended the hug and pulled him into the circle.
Pete resisted for a moment, but then let himself be consumed by the laughter. It filled the front hallway and Matt had a thought, so pure and perfect he knew it was true.
The aliens would never win.
Pete
Pete watched Heather tangle her hands in Matt’s sleeves, tracing lines on his forearms, and how she flushed with warmth from seeing him. Matt mentioned he and Heather had gotten close, but he didn’t realize it was like this. He was glad for his friend and happy to have something positive to come out of this nightmare. They were all together now, even stupid Fuzzy Bear made it out of the tree house. Matt, Mr. Gardner, everyone. Except...
“Someone needs to get Liz,” he said.
Heather broke away from Matt and the adults stopped their celebrating to stare.
“Heather said she’s alone and catatonic,” Mr. Keene said. “Let the grownups worry about that, okay son?”
“Just give me the transmitter back and I’ll go get her right now.”
“We can’t,” Matt said, “I don’t think it will work for two people.”
“Why not?” Heather asked. Beside her, Matt’s mom touched her kids, her hands drifting between Abby and Matt, back and forth, never settling on one for long. He blinked, trying not to think about his own mom. No one would worry for him and drift butterfly hands over his body, checking for marks or hurts. They hadn’t even commented on the tiny cut above his eye, the one he got when he dove out of the junction box.
“It must have an effective range,” Matt said, “but I can't tell if its weight or proximity or what. We don’t know how much this thing will shield.”
“At least alien-sized and alien weight. So, five or six feet and around two hundred pounds?” Heather rubbed her chin and looked upwards, thinking.
“There must be a ratio component.” Matt said and then he and his dad lost themselves in a technical and complicated discussion of sensor arrays and field transmission vectors.
“No one is going outside to get anyone,” Heather’s dad said, cutting off the discussion. “We’ve gotten lucky so far, but this transmitter is our only way out of here. It's too valuable to risk.”
“We can’t leave the girl alone, Martin.” Old Mr. Gardner leaned against the wall and his eyes flicked to Matt’s dad. “Isn’t right.”
“I’m not saying we leave her alone, John, but we just got everyone together.”
“She’s there by herself, Dad. I’m not leaving her.” Heather crossed her arms and planted her feet.
“Let the adults worry about this, okay honey?” Her dad patted her on the head before turning back to the other adults. Pete could have screamed. Liz was the only person left in his life and leaving her wasn't an option. Heather appeared frustrated but there was nothing they could do. The parents had taken control of the inside as effectively as the aliens dominated the outside. Matt and Heather drifted off to a corner by themselves and then he was alone. Again.
He went to the kitchen, leaving the group and talk and laughter behind. No one remarked when he left. He took a bottle of water from the fridge and slumped down at the table, the same seat he’d always take when Matt would have him over for dinner. This house was as familiar to him as his own, but he struggled to take comfort in it. He wanted his family back. Frustrated, he wiped his hand across his eyes and swallowed and blinked until he had control of himself. He shouldn’t have run. He should have stayed with Deidre.
“Hi Pete.” Mr. Gardner ambled into the kitchen, hands in his pockets, like a man out for a stroll. He sat down across the table. Pete muttered a greeting but kept his head down. Neither of them said anything else for several moments and Pete considered getting up to leave. Mr. Gardner wasn’t there to chat. He probably wanted to lecture him for bailing on his family. Everyone else stayed with the people they loved.
“I might need your help with something.”
Pete looked up and Mr. Gardner was picking at his fingernails, staring out the window. Not what he expected. “What?”
“We’re running out of lights. Candles, flashlights, whatever. It’s fine in the day, enough is coming through the windows, but it gets downright depressing come nighttime.”
“So?”
“I figured you know this house pretty well, what with you and Matt being friends all those years, maybe you could be my right hand for this one. Paul’s got the rest of the place running smooth, but I need a bit of support for some work I’m doing.”
“Why don’t you ask Matt or Abby?”
“Sure, that's one idea. But I’m out here by myself and I don’t know everyone that well. I’ve been a little on my own since this whole thing started and I'd sure love it if I had partner.”
“A partner?”
“Someone to watch my back wi
th some steel in him. I figure you had a rough time out there.”
Pete swallowed again and looked at the floor. “I did.”
“It’s hard, Peter. All of this. None of this is fair, what happened and what those things put you through. But you did the right thing by getting to protection. That took a lot of courage. Do you believe that?”
He shook his head, not trusting himself to speak.
“Well, I’m here to tell you it did. Look at me, okay?”
Pete lifted his head and jut out his jaw, ready for a fight.
“What happened to your eye? You okay?”
“It’s nothing. I scratched it in the box.”
“Let me help. It looks dirty.”
Mr. Gardner took a cloth from under the sink and dabbed it in water from a container beside the fridge. Gently, he brushed at the dried cut above Pete’s eye.
“I don’t have anyone,” he said while he worked. “Wife died a few years back, and we never had kids. I’ve been alone for a couple years now, so I’m not great around people. Like I said, a stout lad like yourself to show me around would be good. Help me figure things out. Yeah?”
Pete swallowed with a loud gulp and his vision went blurry. He looked away, so Mr. Gardner wouldn’t see.
“That...” He swallowed again. “I could do that.”
“Good lad.” Mr. Gardner clapped Pete on the shoulder. His hand lingered a moment and Pete suddenly sobbed and hugged Mr. Gardner’s arm, burying his face in his sleeve. Deep, barking coughs racked his body, and he shuddered through the motion.
“That’s fine, Peter. That’s just fine.” Mr. Gardner stroked his hair and let him go on.
Heather
Heather noticed when Pete drifted off to the kitchen, but stayed beside Matt. Her frustration with the adults reached a peak, but they weren’t budging. No one was getting Liz, at least not today.
“Let’s give it a day. Nothing will happen to Liz overnight, and once we’ve all rested, we’ll be able to look at this with fresh eyes.” Matt’s dad used a let’s be reasonable tone, like how Matt would talk in the treehouse. Measured, rational, and irritating. He looked worse for wear, with his swollen eye and his puffy and red cheeks. It seemed he had gone through his own problems while she had been in the treehouse with Matt. She picked up on some underlying tension between him and her dad, but she didn’t have the energy to figure it out.
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