When They Saw (When They Came Book 2)

by Kody Boye

  Her daughter?

  That could only mean—

  I paled.

  The blood drained from my face.

  Sensation left my fingertips.

  How could I have been so stupid? How could I have not realized that Mary-Anne was Commander Dubois’ daughter?

  I didn’t have time to consider the consequences to my actions, as soon after, Dubois was on me. First she slapped me—hard—across the face, then she pushed me back before attempting to slap me again. I pushed my hand up to block the blow and was rewarded with a punch to the jaw that hit me so hard my teeth sunk into my tongue and drew blood.

  “HOW COULD YOU?” Dubois screamed. “HOW COULD YOU?”

  “I didn’t know!” I cried. “I didn’t—”

  Dubois raised her hand to strike me again.

  I grimaced, expecting the worst.

  Then Mary-Anne stepped in front of me to stare at her mother head-on. “That’s enough,” she said. “It wasn’t Ana Mia’s fault that we got attacked by a Coyote.”

  “But it is her fault you were out in the first place,” Dubois answered. “And for that reason, she should be punished.”

  “But she—”

  “But nothing.” The commander turned her eyes on me. “Under no circumstance are you to leave the fortifications with our equipment unless you are specifically instructed. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “I said: do you understand?”

  “Yes ma’am!” I cried, resisting the urge to reach up and rub the blood from my face.

  Dubois gave me a stone-cold glare before she took hold of Mary-Anne’s hand and began to drag her down the hallway.

  Left alone in the middle of the lobby—bleeding, humiliated, and unsure what, if anything, I could do in response—I lifted my eyes to meet the stares of those around me.

  Almost everyone’s eyes shied away instantaneously.

  It wasn’t long afterward that I began to make my way toward my and Asha’s room.

  “She really punched you a good one,” Asha said as she patted at my injuries with a soft towelette.

  “Yeah,” I replied, grimacing. “I noticed.”

  “And this was all because you took her daughter out to pick fruit for Halloween?” Asha waited for a nod before frowning. “Sheesh.”

  “Well, that, and because we were attacked by a Feral.”

  “You were? Oh God, Ana Mia, is that why you’re all beat up? Please tell me you weren’t—”

  “I wasn’t bitten,” I replied. “Thank God for that.”

  Asha mumbled a silent prayer to herself—complete with a cross-over-the-chest motion—before she went back to tending my wounds. Her features were determined, her face soured by a frown. I wanted nothing more at that moment to reach out and touch her, but kept my hands to myself as she did her work.

  When finally she was finished, Asha pulled back, wadded up the paper towel, and said, “Well, that’s as good as it’s going to get.”

  I lifted my head to look at my reflection in the bathroom mirror.

  Split lip, bruised jaw, and bitten tongue—all because of an accident that had happened out in the field.

  “She hurt me worse than the Coyote did,” I said, then laughed.

  “She’d’ve probably killed you if Mary-Anne hadn’t stepped in the way,” Asha replied. “Just… wow, Ana Mia. You really got yourself into a mess there, didn’t you?”

  “I did.”

  “Banned from leaving the perimeter unless you’re given absolute permission? What kind of punishment does she think that is?”

  “Limiting of freedoms,” I replied, sighing. I reached up to touch my face and gingerly prodded the bruise on my jaw with a finger, grimacing as the pain revolved through the skin and then down to the bone. “It’s not like I really want to go out there again anyway. Not with the Ferals.”

  “I thought the Grays were supposed to harvest Them back to the Mothership?” Asha frowned.

  “They are. The thing is: the Ferals aren’t going to the Harvester ships. They’re… crazed, or something. The one that attacked me had mange.”

  “Mange?”

  “Yeah. You know—fur loss, sores all over—”

  “I know what mange is, Mia. It’s just… why would the Coyotes be getting sick on our planet? Is it because our atmosphere’s different? Because They’ve been eating things They’re not used to?”

  “Or maybe not eating at all?” I offered, then shook my head. “I don’t know. All I know is that I’m lucky to be alive. If Mary-Anne hadn’t’ve been so ballsy and hit the thing with a bucket, I’d probably be dead.”

  “It’s probably just as well you don’t go out anyway,” Asha said. “At least not alone.”

  “Yeah. Probably.”

  Still—I couldn’t shake the idea that I had been punished for something I hadn’t been able to control. Mary-Anne hadn’t even been touched. I was the one who’d been attacked, not her. And to hit me on top of it? That was simply outrageous. I mean, to have the gall to do something like that, to someone half your age…

  I shook my head.

  Frowning, Asha settled down beside me and wrapped an arm around me. “Hey,” she said. “At least all you got was a smack on the… uh… face for it. Right? Could’ve been worse.”

  “Yeah,” I mumbled. “It could’ve been worse.”

  And, truly, it could’ve, but I was still mad all the same.

  With a sigh, I lay back on the bed, closed my eyes, and tried not to think about what would happen when nighttime came rolling around.

  Would I be allowed to take watch with the other members of the militia, or would I be forbidden from even picking up a weapon?

  Only time would tell.

  A knock came at the door later that afternoon.

  “Who is that?” Asha asked as she rolled over and clawed at the blankets, the tone in her voice one of annoyance and complete disregard to whomever might be trying to visit at this hour of the afternoon.

  “I don’t know,” I said, pushing myself upright. “I—”

  “Ana Mia?” Mary-Anne’s familiar voice asked. “Are you awake?”

  “Her,” Asha growled, rolling over to face the door.

  “Don’t,” I warned, throwing my legs over the side of the bed. “It isn’t worth it, Asha.”

  “But it’s her fault that you’re all beat up.”

  “No it isn’t. It was just a misunderstanding.”

  “Yes it—”

  I shook my head, then, and gave Asha the coolest glare I could muster in light of the situation.

  When I felt as though Asha wouldn’t speak further—or, at the very least, wouldn’t cause trouble come time I opened the door—I set my feet on the floor, then made my way forward.

  Mary-Anne’s face came into view a moment later, though her eyes fell immediately after looking into mine. “Hi,” she said.

  “Hi,” I replied.

  I waited for her to say something further for several long moments, during which time I watched her expression shift from unease to downright discomfort. When finally she lifted her gaze to look at me, it was with guilt from the ages that she cleared her throat and asked, “Can I come in?”

  I stepped aside to offer her entry.

  She stopped almost immediately upon stepping into the room. “Oh,” she said, her gaze set toward the bed. “I didn’t know the two of you were—”

  Asha didn’t say anything. She merely rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling to ignore Mary-Anne completely.

  “What did you need, Mary-Anne?” I asked, hoping my voice didn’t sound too strained for comfort.

  “I wanted to come and apologize,” the girl replied, “for what my mother did to you.”

  “It isn’t your fault,” I said.

  Asha snorted and rolled onto her side so she wouldn’t have to look at either of us.

  Mary-Anne considered Asha for a short moment before sighing and saying, “Yes. It is my fault.”


  “No it—” I started.

  “I was the one who wanted to go out to the garden in the first place. If I hadn’t’ve asked you, you wouldn’t have gotten in trouble. And if you hadn’t gotten in trouble, you wouldn’t have been—”

  “Hit,” I finished. Mary-Anne nodded and slid her hands behind her back. “Don’t worry about it, Mary-Anne. It’s nothing a few days of rest won’t heal.”

  “But you look… bad.”

  “I know.”

  “My mother shouldn’t have done that,” she said, shaking her head as she began to pace about the front of the room. “Yelling at you I could understand. Disciplining you I can see. But hitting you? A seventeen-year-old girl? My mother’s better than that.”

  “Your mother’s under a lot of stress,” I replied, which prompted another snort from Asha and did nothing to ease my burden over the matter. “It’s only natural that she would react adversely to you almost getting killed.”

  “But that’s the thing. I wasn’t.”

  I blinked, thankful that the girl wasn’t as delusional as her mother but at the same time unsure how to reply to her given that she, at least two years my junior, was being more adult about this than even I was.

  With another sigh, the girl turned to face me, but this time didn’t lower her eyes. Rather, she faced my gaze head-on and, without faltering, said, matter-of-factly, “I got you in trouble. That should be on my head, not yours.”

  “Really, Mary-Anne. It’s ok. I’m fine, you’re fine, the Coyote’s dead—”

  “Have you gone to see Doctor Kelly?”

  “What?” I frowned.

  “About your face. Maybe he can give you something for the pain.”

  “It doesn’t really even hurt that bad,” I lied, hoping that Mary-Anne would drop it altogether and leave me to my own devices. I was nervous enough about the situation as a whole. But her being around? That set me on edge far worse than any Coyote could’ve. “Mary-Anne… I hate to be rude, but… I think you should probably go.”

  “I know,” the girl said. “I just wanted to come and let you know that I was sorry, and that it’ll never happen again.”

  “What’re you—”

  The girl turned and left the room without another word in response.

  “Good,” Asha said as I closed the door behind her. “We don’t need any more trouble following us around anyway.”

  “She’s a good person, Asha.”

  “She may be a good person, but good people can come with heavy baggage.”

  “I know,” I sighed. “It’s just… I was starting to feel a little bit normal again. I’d made another friend, was starting to get to know the hospital, was finally feeling like this was the place for us and we were finally at home.”

  “And the Duboises blew all that out of the water, didn’t they?”

  I tried to keep from nodding, but ended up doing so anyway.

  Asha patted the space on the bed beside her in an effort to draw me back onto the mattress. “We need to rest,” the girl said, tempting me with the promise of sleep and the solitude of a darkened room. “We still don’t know if we’re going to be called out for guard duty tonight.”

  “I’m pretty sure I won’t,” I replied, sliding beneath the covers and settling back down on the pillow. “Not after everything that’s happened.”

  “Hey, you never know,” Asha said. “Dubois might surprise you.”

  I sure hoped she wouldn’t.

  Dubois turned out to be full of surprises.

  I wasn’t just expected to participate in guard duty tonight. I was also to do it unarmed.

  “Unarmed?” I asked, staring at Captain Jason Sin with eyes I imagined were wide and filled with confusion. “You’ve got be joking.”

  “I’m not,” the captain sighed, once again extending an arm to bar me entry from the armory. “The commander’s placed you on what she refers to as ‘the disciplined list.’”

  “The disciplined list?” I asked. “But I didn’t even do anything.”

  “As far as she’s concerned, you endangered her daughter after sneaking her out of the facility, though whether or not that was your intention I can’t be sure. All I know is that I’m not allowed to give you a weapon tonight. Just armor.”

  “But—”

  The captain shook his head.

  Resigned to my fate, I nodded and allowed the man to enter the armory in my stead. I begrudgingly let him help me into the armor as well, though by the time I was finished, I felt more humiliated than I ever had in my life.

  A Guardsman without a rifle. How ridiculous did that sound?

  “What am I supposed to do if we’re attacked?” I asked. “It’s not like I’ll be any use on the front lines.”

  “Which is why you won’t be on the front lines,” an unfamiliar voice said. “You’ll be with me.”

  I turned just in time to see a tall, deeply-tanned woman with short blonde hair step forward, a sniper rifle in hand.

  “Who are you?” I asked.

  “You honestly don’t remember?” the woman laughed. “You’d think that almost getting your head shot off by someone would leave a lasting impression.”

  I thought back to Asha and I’s initial approach to the hospital all those days ago and realized, after a moment’s contemplation, that this had to be none other than Tasha Stooges.

  “You,” I started.

  “Shot at you and Asha Dawson,” the woman nodded. “Yeah. Sorry about that. I didn’t know if you were friend or foe and didn’t want to take my chances.”

  “It’s fine,” I said, reaching out to shake the woman’s hand. “No bad feelings.”

  “You sure? I could’ve sworn I’d drawn blood.”

  “Not that I can remember,” I said, casting a glance out the front doors to look at Asha, who offered me a frown and an unsure look before turning her attention back to the setting sun. “So… Tasha.”

  “What’s up, lil mama?”

  “What am I supposed to be doing, since I’m not armed?”

  “Helping me spot Ferals,” the woman replied, slapping a magazine into her sniper rifle before gesturing me toward the flight of stairs behind us. “The commander seems to think that where there’s one there might be more.”

  “You think?” I asked.

  Tasha nodded. “There’s bound to be more,” she said as she led me down the hall and up several flights of stairs. “You don’t see ‘em that often, but They’re there—always watching, always waiting. They’re apex predators starving and looking for food. Probably half crazed too from whatever’s causing the mange.”

  I didn’t bother to reply as the woman opened the door at the top of the stairs and ushered me out onto the rooftop—which, at this hour of the evening, was still hot from the oppressive Texas sun.

  “This is it,” Tasha said, gesturing to the simple standing platform that had been erected from a series of concrete blocks. “My bird’s eye view of the world.”

  And it was, too: offering a glimpse of everything from east to downtown Austin. The lake that Asha and I had crossed all those fateful days ago gleamed gold in the light of the setting sun, and sent glittering beads of light across the horizon—which, when looked at directly, were blinding.

  Tasha, who had seen this view before and had likely become jaded as a result of it, made her way to the standing platform and settled down in one of two wooden chairs that had been placed upon it, a brief exhale crossing from her lips as she looked out at the setting sun. “It’s always the same,” she said after a moment.

  “What is?” I asked.

  “Night comes, They follow, we kill, They flee.” The woman reached up to brush a hand through her hair as I approached and only looked up when I settled down next to her. “You already know this though. Better than anyone, I’d imagine.”

  “I know,” I agreed.

  We fell into a lapse of silence then, during which time the sun descended its last little ways across the horizon before disappe
aring entirely beyond the scope of Lady Bird Johnson Lake. Here, stars appeared, twinkling in the absence of city light, and distantly I could make out Harvesters as They swiveled across the horizon, likely searching for the very Coyotes Tasha and I were meant to be hunting.

  “Let me ask you something,” the woman said as she stood and began to scan the streets with her scope. “There’s rumors that you can understand what They say, or at least hear what They’re thinking.”

  “I can. Sometimes.”

  “Can you hear anything right now?”

  I hadn’t considered that my consciousness had been so unguarded—that my walls had fallen, that my dams were not erected. The past few days had been so clear and solemn within my mind that I hadn’t even considered raising any barriers to keep anything from infiltrating my mind, but here I stood, considering that very notion as we waited for the Ferals to begin Their hunts. Distantly, I heard a dog bark, then yelp as it met whatever fate occurred, and in that moment I began to hear a faint strain of noise that reminded me of static on a dying TV. It was barely-audible, but clear all the same; and the more I listened to it, the more I realized it was likely the Ferals in the streets, pursuing Their endless hunts for human life.

  I nodded, then, and cleared my throat before saying, “I hear something. It’s like… like static from a television set. You know, after you’ve turned your receiver off and it’s just displaying gray pixels.”

  “I know what you’re talking about,” Tasha said.

  “It’s like that, but… barely there. It comes and goes in pitch and strength and now…” I paused, then looked down at the street below us. “It’s there again.”

  Tasha aimed her rifle at the street I was looking at.

  I frowned.

  I shivered.

  A presence attempted to touch my mind.

  The garbled noises that followed raised the hairs on the back of my neck and caused goosebumps to rise along my skin.

  A figure appeared distantly, just out of an alleyway and into the street I was gazing upon.

  “There,” I said.

  The Coyote—stricken with mange and resembling a caricature of its former self—turned its head to scan the streets with its fog beam eyes before raising its chin to look directly at me.