"Alien," she said, shaking her head. "A damn alien."
She tried to stand up, fighting the aches and pains. Brady stood and held out his hand, which she slapped away. The anger wouldn't go away.
"Ah. Still mad."
"Yeah, Brady, I'm still mad. Even if you weren't a liar, people still tried to kill us tonight. So, forgive me if my mood is sour."
"You thought someone named Mattie sent them. What's that all about?"
"None of your business."
Lily walked away from him, not looking back. The body pain was finally starting to dull somewhat. She could sense him behind her, keeping a few steps back.
"Where are you going?" he asked.
"Home."
"I don't think—"
"I don't care what you think."
She approached the lone door on the roof, the way inside the building. Looking over her shoulder, she glared at Brady when the door wouldn't open.
"Unlock this."
He stepped forward and tugged on the door.
"It's locked from the inside."
"Somehow I don't think that's a big deal to you."
Brady frowned, and for the first time since he pulled her onto the roof, her heart softened a touch. He was hurt, and part of her wanted to reach for him and apologize. But she wasn't ready for that. She needed distance.
He placed his palm near the door. His entire hand from the wrist down changed, flattening and turning into a thin layer of the gelatin she'd seen before. The ooze slid between the crack in the door, and she heard a click from the inside. He opened the door as his hand returned to normal.
She took one step down the darkened stairs.
"Lily—"
"Don't. Don't talk to me. Leave me alone."
Brady didn't follow her. When she reached the bottom of the stairs she turned back to look at him.
He was already gone.
CHAPTER 16
Brady's hands trembled as he unlocked the door to his apartment. He turned on the living room light and immediately looked to the furniture, every corner. He searched for anyone, anything at all. A shadowy agent ready to pounce on him, an appliance or gadget out of place. His apartment seemed to be in order, but he was thorough. He went through every room.
He was calm earlier, during the ordeal. Every decision he made was designed to get Lily and himself out of danger. He didn't have time to think. But now his mind raced. So many thoughts battled with each other. He'd exposed himself to Lily, shown her his greatest secrets. Now she hated him. Of course, she did. He wasn't human. Did he ultimately expect any other result?
But she was alive. She was safe.
But safe from what, exactly? Who was after him? What did they want? What country were they from?
He wedged a chair under the knob to the front door, to stop anyone from easily getting inside. Entering each room once again, he shut the curtains. He turned off every light except in the living room, and paced.
What was he going to do?
He leaned over the computer. He needed to research. Men In Black. Aliens on Earth. Government involvement. There was information out there. He basically bathed in it every night. But he needed more. There were websites he went to often, online users he'd befriended.
His fingers stopped over the keyboard.
What if they were monitoring him? Did they know who he was? What if every keystroke he ever typed was being recorded, dissected, analyzed?
If he typed Foreign Men In Black into a search engine, would armed men burst down his door?
Slowly, as if monsters were on the other side, he peeled back the patio curtain. Given the hour, there was no life in the parking lot below. No people, no one driving. The other apartment buildings were dark. Still, Brady didn't feel safe. Would he ever feel safe again?
He needed to run, get far away. Change his name. Get another job. Build a new life. Go so far underground that no one would ever be able to find him. There was only one problem.
He didn't know how to do any of that.
Thirst gnawed at him. He'd changed shape often during the night, more than he was used to. Quick, sudden shifts. He could push himself further. He knew what he was capable of, but changing shape still had an energy cost, no different than an athlete. He needed something to drink.
His hand was on a cold bottle of water in the fridge when the knock came at the door.
Brady froze. The knock came again. Panic and paranoia settled in. His mind looped through the apartment and the possible escape routes. The air vents, shower and sinks, even the toilet if need be. It would be gross, but better to be gross than dead.
Cautiously, he approached the door. He willed his shoes to vanish, choosing to walk on the tips of his toes. Pressing against the wall, six feet away from the door, his form changed. His essence spread from his back, stretching along the wall. He covered the peephole to the door and focused his senses, peering through the lens.
He was surprised at the visitor.
"Who is it?" he asked, just to hear her voice.
"Lily."
He opened the door and regarded her. In the glow from the living room, he could see for the first time what the night had done to her.
Her dress was ripped at the side, speckled with drops of blood. Her knee was swollen, her shoes gone. There were small cuts on her forehead and cheek. Blood was streaked across her skin, her neck and shoulders. She hadn't even cleaned up.
Cleaning up wasn't a problem for Brady. He looked exactly the same as he always did. Guilt joined in the dance along with panic and paranoia.
She carried a six pack of beer at her side.
"Ah," he said, smiling at the beer. "It's too bad I don't drink."
"They're not for you."
Lily marched past him without an invitation. He closed the door and watched as she grabbed a can and popped the top. She tilted her head back and took a long drink, so long that he thought beer would spill on her chest.
"Lily, you shouldn't be here," he said, slipping the chair back in place under the knob. "It might not be safe."
"Oh, so you know what's going on? Who those people were? Where will I be safe? Home?"
He said nothing. She was right. He had no idea what was going on.
She made herself at home on his couch, like she'd done so many times before.
"We need to talk," she said.
Brady sighed. He wasn't sure if he was up for a talk, but felt he owed that much to her. Then she could move on with her life.
"Okay."
He retrieved a damp towel from the kitchen for her, which she accepted. She wiped her face and kept working on her beer. He sat on the opposite end of the couch, as much as space would allow.
"Shit, where do I even start?" She held her face in her hands in frustration. "Okay, so, an alien."
"Yeah. An alien."
"What planet are you from?"
"I…don't know."
"How did you get here?"
"Don't know."
"How many more are here on the planet with you? Do you guys have a name for yourselves?"
"I don't know. I haven't met any others. And no name that I know of."
"Do you have a spaceship?"
"No."
Her brow wrinkled in frustration and confusion.
"Why the hell do you think you're an alien?"
Brady was equally confused.
"Well, what else would I be?"
"Do you eat? Do you shit, use the bathroom at all? When you have sex, do you have an orgasm?"
He tilted his head at the unusual questions.
"Uh, yeah. Yes to all."
She laughed. Whether she was laughing sarcastically or not, it was a pleasant sound he thought he'd never hear again.
"You're not a fucking alien."
"So you don't think aliens use the bathroom or have sex?"
"I have no idea. But you're not an alien. Aliens aren't real."
He pointed to the TV.
"After all
the videos we watched—"
"They're bullshit, Brady!" She became animated. "Area 51. Roswell. Betty and Barney Hill. Those Phoenix lights. It's all bullshit. You think aliens are behind all that?"
Despite her temper, Brady smiled.
"You really were watching."
Lily's eyes changed as something struck her, a realization.
"It's not just a fun hobby. For you, it's what? History? You think all that garbage you see on the Internet is real?"
"Not all of it. But some. Some of it has to be real."
She nodded slowly.
"You're trying to find out more about yourself. Looking for a video on you."
He nodded. Emotion started to needle him. He was a raw nerve, exposed for the first time. He'd never shared anything about himself, and now Lily knew more than anyone.
"And I've never found out anything yet."
"Tell me about you. Tell me everything."
"Shit, Lily. You know everything now. I really was raised in foster homes. I have no idea who I really am, or where the fuck I came from. I don't know anything about myself." He pointed to the TV. "And I figure the answer is in one of those videos."
She shook her head.
"You're not an alien," she said again.
"I'm not? Tell me then, what else could do this?"
Brady stood up and changed. He assumed the form of Emma, right down to the slinky outfit she wore earlier in the evening. He went through a myriad of forms, pausing on each one so Lily could absorb.
"Or how about this one?"
Steve. Then Emma's boyfriend. Even Lily herself, which drew a startled gasp as Lily stared at her mirror. He mimicked her all the way down to her black dress and tattoo.
He saved the most jarring form for last.
"Or this?"
He turned into a typical Grey alien. The kind that had invaded the social consciousness of the world over the decades. Even people that didn't believe in aliens recognized what an alien looked like. Short, long arms, bulbous head. Large, solid black eyes, a small mouth, slits for a nose.
"What if this is what I really look like?" he said. "And the other me, that form, is like a subconscious thing, so I'll fit in with everyone else?"
She stood up. At his shorter height, he only came up to her chin. He shifted back to his normal form, the one he woke up with every morning.
"You're not from another planet. Okay? So, get that out of your head."
"What am I then?"
"A government experiment. They took you as a baby and did all kinds of lab stuff on you. Gene splicing, DNA crap, who knows."
He frowned.
"That doesn't make me feel any better."
"Why not?"
"Because then I really am just a freak. If I'm an alien, then maybe I have a family out there somewhere. If the government just cooked me up in a lab, then I really am alone."
"Hey." She reached out and grabbed his hands, startling him. Her anger disappeared, replaced with compassion. "You're not alone. I'm here. I'm always going to be here."
Lily didn't realize it, but her words were powerful. No one had ever told him that before. Foster families were only more than happy to get rid of him.
"Uh, thanks," he said, his voice breaking a little. "That means a lot to me—"
The hug came out of nowhere. She pulled him close and embraced him, not letting go. Brady returned the gesture. At least for a few seconds, he forgot everything else. The kidnapping, the chase through the streets. There was only the two of them.
She leaned back and looked up at him. Their arms were still around each other.
"I'm sorry," she said. "About how I acted earlier. I was scared, freaked out. And I said some things I shouldn't have. Forgive me?"
Another hug.
"Yeah. You don't have to be sorry. It's not every day you find out your friend is an alien."
She put a finger to his lips.
"Shush, you. A government experiment. Or maybe you're just another species we haven't discovered yet. Did you know there are animals in the Amazon we still haven't found? Or maybe you're the next stage of evolution. Maybe it's all natural."
She met his smile with her own, her eyes lighting up.
"We'll just agree to disagree," he said.
Lily laughed and stepped back, but didn't let go of his hand. She looked down at herself, and Brady did the same.
"I've looked better."
"Eh, you're still pretty damn hot."
She actually blushed.
"Listen, I didn't go home. I got my car, my beer, and came straight here. Could I use your shower?"
"Go for it."
She walked halfway down the hall and turned with a smile.
"I'm guessing you don't have spare clothes for a lady, right?" It was her turn to stare at him. "Or for yourself."
"You'd be right." He pointed at her as inspiration struck. "But there is something. Sharon from downstairs owes me a favor. I'll be right back."
"I don't want you to have to wake anybody up."
"It's not like she hasn't pounded on my door late. I'll be right back."
*****
Ten minutes and one awkward conversation later, Brady returned with clothes and a pair of flip-flops. The shower was full-blast, with steam trying to escape into the hall. He cracked the door open just enough to see her black dress on the floor. The shower curtain was opaque enough to give her privacy. His imagination ran away, picturing her under the water, despite his best efforts to only think of unicorns.
"Lily. I have some clothes. I'm just putting them on the sink, so don't freak out. The towels under the sink are clean."
"Stay and keep me company."
"Uh, what?"
"Stay—" The wonderful slight sarcasm had returned to her voice. "And keep me company. Every cricket I hear, I jump. Did you put the chair back under the door?"
"Yeah."
"Good. Then stay here. I won't be long."
He didn't want to stutter, but did anyway.
"S-Sure."
He kept the door open to keep the steam moving and sat on the toilet. The light in the shower cast Lily's silhouette against the curtain, which was perfect. He focused straight ahead and stared at the wall. He tried to think of anything else. Unicorns were no longer working.
"Hey," Lily said. "You alive out there?"
He turned to see her poking her head out the side. Her face was clean, the blood gone, her pale skin radiant. Her wet hair clung to her shoulders. Part of her tattoo was visible as she held the curtain. He knew they were friends, but that didn't mean he couldn't find her beautiful. He wished she'd stay hidden. Seeing her silhouette was bad enough.
"Yeah, yeah. Alive and well."
She disappeared back under the water.
"I need some details," she said.
Brady scowled. He wasn't sure how much conversation he had left in him.
"Details? Seriously?"
"Yeah, seriously. The shit you do…I mean, how? The handcuffs, to start with. How did you do that?"
He held out his hand and watched as a blank key bubbled from his palm. Tapping the curtain, he offered the key. Lily reached out and accepted. He could see her turning it in her fingers, studying it.
"Keys and locks are easy. Just think of it like feeling with your finger. Handcuff keys aren't any different."
"So this right here, this is you? It's part of you?"
"Yeah. I can actually feel you right now. Your hand. The water in the shower."
"And see me, can't you? I saw what you did in the alley. Even without eyes, you somehow see."
"Well, yeah, if I wanted to. But I'm not. I'm not going to peek at you in the shower."
She rubbed the key with her thumb. Brady felt her touch, and tried to keep his head clear. She didn't realize how intimate the conversation was, as silly as the setting was.
"It feels so real."
"It is."
"So, you feel everything…."
Brady perked
up and stared at the curtain, curious as to where Lily was taking that thought. She held the key above her, toward the light. He hoped she wasn't going to put him in her mouth.
"So tonight, me sitting on the bike, and every time you slimed me up. You were stealing some touches."
He rolled his eyes and sighed.
"If it makes you feel better, my brain wasn't really in perv-land. Since, you know, people were chasing us with guns."
"Brady, relax. I'm joking." She laughed quietly as a thought struck her. "You don't own any clothes, do you?"
"No. Haven't worn a real shirt since high school."
"Shit. And you don't have a car because you don't need one." The water shut off, and a single hand reached out without a word. Brady handed over the towel and she whisked it inside. "I gave you ride after ride, every night. I feel like an idiot."
Lily threw the curtain open. The towel was wrapped around her, but he didn't remember it being so short. Brady saw much more than he was expecting. If the towel shifted an inch in either direction his apartment would suddenly seem like one of the movies he collected.
He stood up to leave, but she was already moving past him. Her stride was quick, agitated.
"I need a beer."
Gathering the borrowed clothes, he followed her out. It was a constant battle to keep his gaze locked in place. He focused on her tattoo, but found his eyes drifting.
"I tried to tell you," he said. "I told you I didn't need a ride."
"Yeah, well, you didn't tell me why."
She offered a beer and nodded toward the clothes he held, suggesting a trade.
"Ah, no—"
"I know. You don't drink. Well, guess what? You do now."
Brady reluctantly accepted the can and turned his back. He heard the towel drop to the carpet and clothes slide over skin. Opening the beer, he took a drink.
The taste nearly made him choke.
He ran to the sink and spit the liquid out. The vile taste stayed with him. He turned on the faucet and filled his mouth with water, gargling and swishing.
Behind him, Lily laughed hard.
He turned his head to see her leaning in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed. Sharon's clothes fit nicely, a pair of shorts and a tee shirt. She took the beer from him and claimed it as her own, enjoying her own long drink.
"Wow. You weren't kidding. You can turn into things, but not drink. What's it like? Turning into a bird. Or that slime you turn into. It's fucking amazing."
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