by Miles, Amy
I watch as Drakon tilts his head to the side and contemplates the walkway. His gaze darts across the wide, silent expanse. It has been nearly a minute since Bastien launched anything over the side. “He’s out of ammo. Attack!”
Drakon turns on his heel and marches toward the front of the factory as his men rush forward, clumping in two small groups as they hurl some sort of rope and metal claw up over the ledge. I know I should do something to help Bastien but I can’t think past the agony winding its way up toward my shoulders.
As the first two men begin to climb, I lurch to my feet. I have to do something. Anything. Commander Drakon turns to watch when he reaches the overturned reception desk as his men scramble up black ropes. More Squaddies arrive at the door, but he holds up his hand and they fall back.
A tall alien with a wide mustache calls back over his shoulder from the base of the rope, “Shoot to kill?”
I lean around the machine, desperate to see his commander’s response but I don’t need to. Judging by maniacal grin that stretches across the soldier’s face, he got the answer he was hoping for.
Anger tears through me, rippling through muscle and bone. I can physically feel it, boiling and visceral in my belly. As the first two aliens slip over the ledge, disappearing from sight, I hear a guttural scream from above.
I lose control.
When I step out into the light, I’m shaking from head to foot. The scalding energy bubbling within me is excruciating. Sweat streams down my brow, stinging my eyes but I barely notice it. “Get away from him!”
An alien plummets head first from the backside of the second floor. I hear his neck snap and he slumps over, unmoving. The sound of fighting on the second floor escalates.
The cluster of aliens at the bottom of the ropes turns and centers their targets on my heart. “There’s another one!”
Drakon comes at me in a sprint, but I perceive everything in slow motion. The staircase overhead rattles. Nuts and bolts spring in all directions as it peels away from the second floor. The aliens cast terrified glances over my head but I don’t focus on them. All I can feel is the pain mingling with my rage, seeping from my very pores. I have to save Bastien.
Another alien falls from the second floor but I hardly take notice this time; I’m blinded by six laser guns as they hum to life, charged and lethal. The screeching of metal muffles my scream as the staircase rips away from the wall. My fingers curl inward like claws as I raise my arms over my head. I feel the weight of the stairs hovering overhead but I don’t stop to consider how this is even possible. I just react.
My vision darkens as I thrust my arms out toward the aliens. The metal staircase slams into the first group, while the second barely has time to turn before they’re broadsided. Sparks fly as the stairs hurtle across the floor, pinning Squaddies as it goes until it slams into the far wall in a twisted heap and a sickening crunch.
The heat vanishes from my fingers, suddenly and completely. I slump to the floor, gasping for breath as pain carves into my chest. Sweat clings to my body like a second skin, sticky and oppressive. My anger fades with each labored pant. Weakened, I rise slowly to my feet to face off with Drakon.
“Who are you?” he asks, eyes wide.
I can feel the weighted stares of the soldiers as they appear at his back, resigned to follow their commander’s barked order to remain back. I wipe my brow, feeling the sting of sweat in my eyes.
“Who are you?” he demands again, taking a step closer.
I raise my hand and he pauses. I know the pain is gone and the anger has fled but he doesn’t. “Stay back.”
He moves backward three steps, eyeing me with a mixture of awe and something else. Something shrewd and calculating. “I won’t hurt you.”
“Like I’m going to believe you.” I struggle to keep my voice strong.
“You have my word.”
I shift my stance slightly and dart a glance over my shoulder. I find Bastien peering down at me from over the ledge. A wide bloody gash has opened over his right eye and the other looks like it’s going to be swollen shut by morning.
I glance back at Drakon, noting that he has inched closer. I glare at him. “Will you let my friend and me leave?”
It’s easy to read the bloodlust in the eyes of the aliens behind him, but the commander has a far more potent expression. The color of his eyes shifts, taking on the appearance of dark molasses. I know I have to be careful. “I’m afraid I can’t allow that. There are…rules against letting humans run free.”
“Figured you’d say that,” I mutter and take a step back. A Squaddie breaks out of rank behind Drakon and aims his laser directly at my chest. I stare into the core of his gun, at the core that swirls beautiful green instead of crimson. It is mesmerizingly beautiful.
“Duck!” Bastien screams from overhead.
Brilliant emerald light slices through the air toward me. I drop to the ground, landing with enough force to bruise my ribs. I clutch my side as I roll and notice the burn mark on the wall where my head had been only seconds before.
I throw out my hands and shove the nearest machine right at the squadron of soldiers. Drakon grunts and dives to the side just before it hits. The sound of screams and breaking bones fills the room as I scramble to my feet. “Run, Bastien!”
I spin and sprint for the back of the warehouse, straight for the gaping hole in the back of the factory. I can hear Bastien’s feet pounding on the second floor and catch a brief glimpse of him as he rounds the far stairwell and thunders up to the third floor.
I pause to search for Drakon. Blood drips down from his temple and his nose is bent at a crooked angle. His hands clench into fists at his side. I’ve never seen such evil before, such unrepentant fury.
I turn and run for my life.
Chapter 5
I clutch my arms around my knees as a trembling reverberates through me. I begin to rock, thinking of how close I came to enslavement…or worse.
What happened back there?
I hold up my hands before my eyes but they remain unseen in the dark. Traces of heat linger in my fingertips, as if the fires might spark to life again. I clasp my chest as pain continues to radiate around my heart.
Something is wrong. I can feel this truth buried deep within my core. I’ve never lost my cool before. Never come so close to unbridled rage. I shake my hands and clench them into fists. What is happening to me?
What about Bastien? Did he make it out ok?
I can hear the aliens in the distance, coordinating a search for us. I don’t have long to linger, but I can’t seem to make my legs work properly. My mind refuses to think on anything but the way I tore a staircase off its hinges and hurled it across the room, or the way I shoved that machine with my mind.
I killed those aliens.
I can’t find it in me to regret my actions. I only wish I could understand them.
The pounding of my heart is nearly loud enough to drown out the sound of the aliens approaching. I push back on the wall to rise, stomping the blood back into my legs before I sprint through the alley and burst through the other side.
Shouts rise behind me and I know they’re on my trail. I don’t know how many are coming after me, but all that matters is that I get out of there quickly.
Block after block blurs past. I scour the streets, searching for an entrance to the subway. If I can get down there I might stand a chance, but luck is obviously not on my side. I don’t see any way of getting underground.
I glance back over my shoulder and see emerald light glowing a couple blocks back, dancing onto the walls as the aliens run. They are faster than I am. Whatever power it was that I tapped into back at that factory has left me weak and vulnerable. I have to hide.
I grab a metal street sign and sling myself around the corner of a building. It’s hard to maintain a full out sprint with a cramp forming in my side. My pace slows to a lurching run and then a fast walk. I clutch my chest as my lungs constrict, making it nearly impossible to
draw a full breath.
Spying an alley halfway down the street, I hook right and race to the end.
“This can’t be happening!” I slam my open palms against a chain link fence that blocks the exit. It rises high overhead, and a spiral of spiked wire runs the length of the top. I turn and press back against the rusted fence, curling my fingers around the wire as I peer behind a large green container with a large, faded sigh that says GARBAGE on its side. No signs of rats or any other foul vermin so far.
The scent of trash has long since faded. A large hole gapes open on the lower right side of the container and a fine dirt mixture pours out from within. I grasp a handful of soil and breathe in deep. It is compost, something I’m very familiar with from growing up in the forest.
I peer around the edge of the container and listen. Boots slap the sidewalk as they approach. There’s no time to run.
Glancing back at the rusted hole, I decide to take my chances with the dirt. I wiggle inside headfirst, scratching my hip as I pass. I tuck my lower lip behind my teeth as I grip the floor and pull myself through. The edges of the metal hole scrape layers of skin from my sides and I bite down hard on my lip to still my cry.
Shouts rise from the end of the alley, and I rush to bury myself in the garbage remains. The soil is cold and the metal floor frigid against the narrow swatch of skin at my waist where my shirt has risen up. Goosebumps rise along my body as I wiggle down as low as I can go.
I manage to get my lower half completely covered but my top half will be difficult. There isn’t enough soil left to completely hide in.
“Any sign of her?” My head whips up as I struggle to hear through the thick metal box. The voice is loud but muffled by the walls.
“I could have sworn she came this way.” The alien’s tone is raspy, hardened with age. If he were human, I would’ve said that he’d smoked one too many dogwood bark cigarettes.
“Maybe she doubled back? I heard Commander Drakon was close to getting his hands on the boy. Maybe she went back for him?”
The second voice is higher in pitch, not all that unlike a girl’s voice. I’ve always wondered how young the Caldonians start out their soldiers. By the sounds of it, the boy can’t be a day over fifteen.
Suddenly, a tickle begins in my nose as the dirt shifts. My pulse shoots up as I plug my nostrils and pray that I can hold off my sneeze until the aliens leave.
“Think we should head back?”
I can hear their boots shifting on a mixture of glass and rubble out on the street. I close my eyes and hope that they’ll just leave.
“The Commander will have our heads if we’re wrong.” The older soldier’s gruff response sends my hopes plummeting into cold oblivion. I suck in a deep breath and wait.
The sneeze escapes before I can stifle it. I cup my mouth and clamp my eyes closed, straining to hear.
“What was that?” Footsteps shift on the street and I’m sure that they know exactly where I am. “Came from down there. Let’s check it out.”
I rip my shirt over my head and rub dirt into the material, tearing at the frayed ends of the shirt to create long, wide ravels. I scrub the dark compost all over my face, chest and abdomen to hide my pale skin. I rub my head along the floor, matting my sweaty hair with refuse.
Their approach is slow and cautious. I can see the bouncing light of their lasers as they draw near. Draping my torn shirt over my chest and head, I sprinkle compost over it. I bury my arms into the soil and focus on taking tiny breaths. I wish I could see myself from above to know if any part of me is visible.
The scrape of a boot beside the dumpster and the rattle of the chain steal away my breath. Terror roots me to the metal floor as I suck in my stomach and pray that my concealment looks natural.
“I don’t see anything.” The man’s voice is loud enough to sift through the hole at my feet.
My lungs burn but I continue to suck in only partial breaths. I can’t risk another sneeze now that I’m buried in this shallow grave.
I clamp my eyes tightly closed as a bright light pierces through the hole. “See anything?”
Shifting just enough to get my arm behind my back, I pull out my gun. My finger hovers over the trigger, ready to take out these aliens the instant I’m discovered.
Seconds seem to drag by with agonizing indifference to my predicament. “Nah. Just some dirt and crap. She’s not here.”
I allow a tiny breath of relief as the light vanishes. The chain link fence rattles as someone kicks it. “Darn cats are a nuisance.”
“Now what, Tuz?”
The older alien, Tuz I presume, spits. The glob splatters against the dumpster and I scrunch up my nose with disgust. “We keep looking. She can’t have gone too far.”
I wait to take my first deep breath until the sounds of their retreat have completely vanished. My fingers uncurl from my palms, leaving stinging half-moon cuts. I tear my shirt away from my face and sit up, gasping for breath as my lungs expand to full capacity.
Compost shifts down my body as I rise to a crouch. My pants are filthy, my hair is clumped with compost, and my skin itches in more places than I care to count. I pull my shirt down over my head and take in the damage.
The jagged hem of my black shirt is now about two inches shorter in places. Large rips lead up my sides and one up the center of my stomach, stopping scant inches from my chest. “Good thing no one’s going to see me like this,” I mutter as I wiggle back through the hole.
Fresh blood and dirt mingle in the wounds as I rise. I cup my hand over my right side, knowing I pulled a bit too far to the right. The wound is deeper than before.
I take the alley at a run, keeping to the deeper shadows until I reach the end of the street. I poke my head out and survey both ways. No signs of my pursuers, but I’m sure they’re not too far away.
I sweep the roofline in search of which direction to head. The moonlight breaks through small openings in the cloud cover, lending just enough light so I won’t face plant into a wall. I can see the glow of the City above, gaining brightness behind me. A rumbling rises from the ground, intermittent but increasing in intensity. I peer down the street and see a towering shadow gaining purchase on the buildings several blocks away. I don’t know what it is but I’m not sticking around to find out. I sprint straight across the street and flee to the darkness.
***
Wooden boards creak underfoot as I climb a set of rickety stairs. The banister rocks under my grasp, threatening to collapse onto the floor below. I cling to it, unsure if it is holding me upright or vice versa.
The wallpaper on the stairway wall is faded, concealing its original design. It peels away from the weathered molding near the ceiling. The plaster behind is cracked from evidence of water damage. Everything feels dingy and almost sticky to the touch.
My steps are labored, echoing through the abandoned housing building. Exhaustion shrouds me as I round the second floor and struggle up the next flight of stairs. The landing is blanketed with tile shards that poke up into my shoes as I pass. A large, glassless window at the end of the hall allows in shifting beams of moonlight. What was probably once a white cushioned window seat just below has deteriorated to a moldy lump. I scrunch up my nose at the obvious evidence of rodent habitation.
I have no idea where I am, or how far I’ve run; all I know is I can’t go any further.
It has been an hour since I heard the aliens. Not long after I darted out of the alley, I heard a laser fight a couple blocks over and I can’t help wondering if Bastien made it out alive.
I should have gone back for him and fought beside him. I try to reason that I shouldn’t care, that we’re only two strangers whose paths crossed at the wrong time, but it doesn’t feel right. He is human and, by default, my kin.
Shuffling my feet along the threadbare carpet, I head toward a door at the end of the hall. As I get closer, I realize the off-white door has a smattering of holes marring the surface. I run my finger along the splintered wood.
“A shotgun did this.” I push the door and stumble inside. A black metal number 15 rattles and drops to the floor outside as I close the door behind me. I feed the lock through the slot but it slips through the tarnished metal plate and rolls out the end. I sigh and move on. It’s not like the Squaddies can’t get through if the lock did work.
A shattered doll greets me with vacant, staring eyes, half its porcelain face ground into the carpet. I wince as my weight crunches what remains as I survey the room in front of me.
Black scorch marks and splattered blood intensifies the eerie feeling that hangs over the room. I spy eight more bullet holes throughout the room, as if the shooter was aiming at a jumping jackrabbit instead of an alien.
Dust blankets everything, layering the room in dismal shades of gray. A tan fabric couch fills the center of the room, pointed toward a wooden wall unit, its shelves stocked full of books. I stumble forward despite my exhaustion and run my fingers along their cracked bindingsa forgotten library at my fingertips.
I dip quietly down a hallway, peeking into each of the rooms to make sure they are vacant. I have to squint to see in the dim moonlight. It wouldn’t be good to assume the coast is clear and later find a group of raiders nestled in the back bedroom.
Each of the rooms are exactly how I assume they were left...in a hurry.
A blue bedroom at the end of the hall still has books opened on the bed. The quilt is crumpled and a shattered glass adorns the bedside table. The window frame is half open, as if someone tried to climb out onto the stairs that cling to the side of the building.
A faded yellow room next door has stuffed animals strewn across the floor and a rainbow of pastel colored dresses slung about. The final room sports evidence of laser fire and a large rust colored bloodstain in the corner. The closet is stripped of all its contents. It’s hard to tell if this was done by raiders or aliens, but the fact remains, there is nothing here to replace my torn shirt or shield me from the bitter cold.