by Kody Boye
I would be going into the mothership? And with the president of the United States, no less?
I wasn’t sure what to say. So, in lieu of saying anything, I simply remained silent, and allowed my body to tremble in the face of what was undoubtedly the greatest adversity I had ever faced.
“So,” the president said, her response coming in just as calmly as Grayson’s had. “She will not touch down on the ground.”
“Not until it is proven safe for her to do so,” Grayson replied. “As has already been stated: we would be willing to bring you aboard our ships and then transfer you into the outer orbit where our queen is currently residing.”
I noted how Grayson hadn’t used the term harvested and nodded at the alien as it turned to consider the holographic display panel, whose surface trembled with the breaths that were being registered from the other side of the line.
“I see,” the president continued. “Well then. So long as my guards will be allowed arms, I see no reason that we cannot engage in this treaty on your grounds. It seems only fair, given what is at stake.”
“Madame president,” a voice in the background said.
“Silence!” the woman roared. “My authority supersedes yours!”
I shivered as the dying effects of the woman’s rage consumed my body, my mind, my soul. She truly was as ruthless as they said she was.
“Send Ana Mia Sofia Berrios down to the ground so we can arrange for transport,” the president of the United States said. “We will then, with her assistance, determine when it would be best for us to come aboard your ship.”
“She is injured,” Grayson said. “An… accident in South Africa left her with broken ribs. You are forewarned. Once outside our care, we are entrusting you to keep her safe.”
“Understood.”
Grayson turned and gestured toward a sliding panel that I instinctively knew led to the ground. “Please, Miss Ana Mia: step on the panel and prepare for your descent.”
“You’re not going to leave me,” I said as I hobbled toward the panel in the floor, “are you?”
“We would never dream of it,” Grayson replied. “Now—stand on the panel, please.”
With one last nod, I stepped onto the slideaway panel in the floor and waited for my descent into West Virginia begin.
The panel opened.
Light spilled forth.
I began to fall.
Guided by gravity, I barely acknowledged I was falling.
When I touched down on the ground—when I looked up and saw that the ship had been fully revealed for the first time since we’d entered the territory of West Virginia—I lifted my head to the woods just in time to see a number of military men in full body armor, complete with masks, swarm toward me.
I was grabbed by many hands.
I was dragged into the woods.
I was then made to walk toward a depression in the earth wherein there lay the concrete opening of a bunker.
The door was opened.
I was ushered forward.
Someone grabbed me and slid something over my mouth.
I screamed.
Then I blacked out.
Chapter 9
I woke to a darkened room.
Confused, disoriented, and unsure where I was, I pushed myself upright only to be knocked back by the swimming sensation of vertigo. I tried to keep from throwing up, but was unable to do so. My only saving grace was that I did it over the side of the bed—in long, dry heaves that left my throat feeling raw and my insides churning like they’d just been laced with lava.
By the time I finished, my mouth was parched, and I still had no idea where I was.
What had happened? Had I been drugged? The only things I could remember was descending from the Harvester ship and then being greeted by armed men. After that… nothing.
Unable to keep my head up long enough to view my surroundings, I lay back down and closed my eyes—fighting, without success, to keep the nausea at bay even though I wasn’t moving. Even the slightest tilt of my head was enough to throw my perspective, shadowed as it was by my eyes, into overdrive. I nearly threw up several times before I heard a door open and a click of what I assumed was a light switch being turned on.
“She made a mess,” a familiar female voice—that of which I identified as president Suzanne Gale’s—said.
“What did you do to me?” I asked.
“Chloroform. A necessary precaution in the event that you were carrying weapons.”
“Why would you think I was carrying weapons?”
“We were unaware if you were a willing participant or if you were being held hostage.”
Hostage? By the Grays?
I forced myself to sit upright in the moments following her declaration, during which time I opened my eyes and concentrated exclusively on the president’s face. Lean, white, with red hair pulled back into a ponytail, she was dressed exquisitely in a tailored red suit and appeared done up specifically for the occasion. She even wore red eyeshadow, which accented her brown eyes to the point where she almost looked like a hawk.
“Why would you think I was being held hostage?” I asked. “The Grays don’t take hostages.”
“We believed at first that you may have been forced to participate in Their ambassadorship to the human peoples. It isn’t unexpected, considering the lengths They are going to in order to land on our soils.” The president frowned as a man carrying a mop and a bucket came in to clean up the slight mess I’d made beside the bed. “So, tell me: were you being held by Them, or were you a willing participant?”
“I was a willing participant.”
“Then allow me to apologize for drugging you,” the president said, stepping forward. “I had to ensure my own, and my people’s, safety.”
She came to study me then, leaning forward to view my face. When her eyes settled on mine, she blinked, likely stunned by what she saw, before she pulled back and said, “You have been bitten?”
“I was,” I said.
“And this is why They sought you out? Because They could communicate with you?”
“How did you—”
“One of my own men was bitten by a Feral Coyote. He claimed to hear voices that asked him where he was, what he was doing, why he wasn’t hiding. Find the man, he claimed They’d said. We killed him to ensure our safety.”
I grimaced, thinking just how easily that could have been me had I been more honest with my condition back in Fort Hope.
The president blinked, likely expecting further response. When I offered none, however, she frowned and said, “If you are not being held captive by the Grays, then why do you wish to secure peace with Them?”
“Because I’m tired of living in fear that They’re going to come down and wipe us out,” I replied. “Because Their food reserves are running low—because if we don’t do something now, They’re going to come down and take what They believe is rightfully Theirs.”
“Which is everything,” the president agreed. She gestured all but the two armed men who flanked the doorway out of the room and turned her attention back to face me. “Tell me—can you hear Them now?”
“No,” I said. “Why?”
“I don’t want Them to know how many people we have in here, or what our defenses are like. You won’t tell Them, will you? I trust you won’t.”
“I’m not going to tell Them anything,” I said. “You can tell Them whatever you want yourself.”
“And there’s the matter of being Harvested into Their ship,” the president said. She sat herself on the edge of my bed and pressed a hand into the mattress, as if testing its rigidity, before lifting her brown eyes to face me, her hawkish gaze calculating my features like a predator sizing up its potential prey. “They claim that this will be for peace, but who’s to say that They don’t plan on assassinating me?”
“They haven’t hurt me yet.”
“Who’s to say They won’t, though?”
I couldn’t reply. Though it was tr
ue that They had not laid a hand on me other than to assist me with my injuries, I was, at this point, an expendable asset. They didn’t need me now that They could speak our language clearly, that I had recorded Their plea and became Their mouthpiece. They could kill me at any moment and it wouldn’t even matter to Them, yet They’d brought me all the way here, to speak to the president. Why bother with that unless They still needed me? Unless I still had some use?
“I,” I began, “don’t know how to answer your question.”
“Then you can see why I am apprehensive about this whole scenario.”
I nodded.
The president reached into a pocket and withdrew a cigarette and a lighter. She lit up, dragged, and then exhaled. “Cigarette?”
“No thank you,” I said.
She nodded and took another drag before standing and making her way toward the doorway. Halfway there, she paused, then turned to look at me again before saying, “I believe you are correct when you say that They want to end this senseless conflict, Ana Mia. They have been in our skies for seven years and yet have made no official attacks against humanity beyond the Harvestings. Their scouts are mindless, Their intellect sub-par. We cannot truly blame the Coyotes’ actions on the Grays if They are animals capable of reverting to Feral instincts. That does not mean, however, that I am comfortable with the idea of having myself and several of my men harvested to be taken aboard Their mothership.”
“If you lead, others will follow by example, ma’am.”
“I understand that.”
“Then you understand how much this impacts the safety of this planet.”
“You are very wise for a girl your age, Ana Mia. You do know that, right?”
I didn’t say anything.
The president smirked and took another drag off her cigarette. “Very well. Now that I know you were a willing participant in the events that were taking place, I will reconsider my stance on the matter and get back to you at a later time.”
“They’ll expect a response soon, Madame president. Otherwise They might come looking for me.”
“I understand that, which is why my response will come no later than tonight. Now, get some rest. Sleeping will help the effects of the drug wear off. And again: I apologize for what has transpired this morning. I do hope that you understand the precautions we’ve had to take in meeting with you.”
I did, but I wouldn’t tell her that.
After waiting for a response that would not come, the president turned and walked out the door.
Though the lights were left on, and though the concrete room was intimidating in that it was completely devoid of personality, I curled up along my side and closed my eyes.
I could rest here, for the time being.
Besides—it wasn’t as though I had anything better to do.
Hours passed in the small concrete cell, during which time I slept off the effects of the chloroform and recovered from what was undoubtedly a meeting of monumental importance. My dreams were scattered—filled with vengeful presidents and marauding aliens. The nightmares were enough to wake me a few times, but always I was able to get back to sleep, as the knowledge that this would soon be over was lingering oh so presently within my mind.
By the time I truly awoke that night, it was to a knock at the door, followed by the entrance of the most powerful woman in the once-United States. “Ana Mia,” she said.
“Madame president,” I replied, pushing myself upright.
She closed the door without allowing the guards to follow her inside and stepped forward, her steps calculated and even upon the solid tile floor. When she came to stand beside my bed, she didn’t sit down, but instead looked me straight in the eyes and said, “I will allow myself to be harvested and taken aboard Their ships, so long as you guarantee that you will do everything within your power to ensure me and my men’s safety.”
“I will,” I said, standing. “So… will we go now, or…”
“We are presently waiting for you to lead us out of the compound.”
“I’m ready.”
“Let us go then, before the daylight fades.”
With a nod, and with more determination than I could have ever thought possible, I rolled off the bed, slid my feet into my boots, and tied the laces before standing and making my way toward the door.
The knob was cool beneath my clammy touch, the door heavy in that it initially resisted. Opening it was a task unto itself, but when I finally did—and when I stepped into the hallway to be bathed in frigid air—I realized that, soon, this would all be over.
The relief that coursed through my body was enormous—comparable, I felt, to seeing the light at the end of a very dark tunnel. Distantly, I heard men’s footsteps approaching, and when I lifted my head, saw a detachment of five in heavy military armor and masks stepping forward to greet the president.
“Ana Mia,” president Suzanne Gale said. “These are the men who will be escorting us onto the Mothership. I hope you aren’t too intimidated by them.”
Intimidated wasn’t a word I would use. Absolutely terrified was the phrase I was more apt to come up with. In pitch-black armor with silver highlights, the men—or women, I couldn’t tell beneath the gas masks they wore—all stood at least six feet tall, and carried heavy rifles which appeared capable of taking any foe down, man or alien. Their wheezy breaths reminded me of old dying men on ventilators and their countenances were like something out of a post-apocalyptic military nightmare. They seemed capable enough though, but whether or not they would be able to compare to any security the Grays had aboard Their Mothership I couldn’t be sure. I guessed not, but regardless, I didn’t care. So long as the president felt safe and secure, I could care less who came with us.
“After you,” the president said, gesturing toward the door at the far end of the hallway.
I started forward—pursued, closely, by the men in black as well as the president—and swallowed the ever-growing lump in my throat as we drew closer to the door. Though I could see the light streaming in from the outside world, it was the rustling leaves that passed over the glass inset that made me realize how soon we would be leaving the safety of the bunker and stepping into the wilds of the open world. My breaths became ragged and my heart flickered in anticipation, my thoughts racing in overdrive and my consciousness debating all that was likely to occur. I stopped, briefly, in the middle of the hallway, to think on these things, then felt a hand fall on my shoulder shortly thereafter.
“Ana Mia,” the president said. “Is everything all right?”
“Everything’s fine,” I lied, swallowing once more.
I started forward again.
When I reached the doorway—when, to my side, the guard removed the lock and then ushered me to take hold of the handle—I stepped outside and breathed in the cool autumn air.
Beyond the thicket loomed the Harvester ship, placidly awaiting my and the president’s return.
“Are you ready for this?” I asked, not bothering to turn and look at the president.
“I am ready,” she said.
I led them out of the copse of trees.
The ship’s beams activated, then trailed forward until they landed on me, the president, and her armed guards.
We were lifted into the air in mere moments, then taken aboard the ship in a blinding display a few short seconds later.
The men’s’ guns were raised almost immediately as soon as the light left our eyes.
“Stand down,” the president said.
Grayson—my captor, my confidant, and potential savior of the Gray species—stepped forward. “Welcome aboard, Madame president.”
The alien extended its bulbous, three-fingered hand.
The president considered it for a moment before reaching forward and taking hold of the alien’s palm. “Thank you,” she then said.
“We will prepare to ascend into the upper atmosphere, where the Mothership is currently awaiting us,” Grayson said, turning and stepping up
to the holographic panel. “You may experience some slight turbulence throughout.”
The ship trembled, then began to rise—first slowly, then more rapidly, then at a pace where I felt there wasn’t even a floor beneath us. I reached out to stabilize myself on something—anything—but when I found nothing, I simply spread my legs and allowed my weight to fall into my feet in an effort to keep me upright.
The sky brightened as we rose, darkened as we left the haze of the lower atmosphere, then brightened again as the sun was revealed in the distance beyond the upper atmosphere.
Then I looked upon it—the Mothership—and paled.
It was absolutely huge—comparable in size to one of the small Hawaiian Islands and shaped exactly how I dreamed it would be. Its rectangular facade and its irregular angles where I felt weapons and other propulsion systems had to be were almost impossible to comprehend, and as we drew closer, skirting along the edges of the atmosphere and maneuvering through the labyrinth of space debris, I looked on in complete and utter awe.
So—this was it. This was finally it. The primary vessel that had brought to Earth the Gray people all those years ago.
Seeing it, and in being beneath its presence, was unlike anything I could have ever expected.
After drawing a breath in, I looked over at the president and saw that she, too, was stunned into silence at the sight we beheld.
“It’s magnificent,” the woman finally said.
Her men remained silent, but I could sense the awe in their movements, in their actions, in the way their shoulders slumped and the way their arms slackened. This was, without a doubt, the greatest thing they had ever seen, and we were heading straight toward it.
A panel on the side of the ship opened.
Grayson twisted its hands and directed the ship forward.
Its size blocked out its sun, its shadow enough to plunge us into near darkness.
We slid into the compartment that had been opened for us only to be greeted by a multitude of aliens in white suits.
Grayson raised a hand to acknowledge the creatures.