by Alechia Dow
“I have been to...” He stops to think. “Many planets, and about seven Ilori colonies. Each was different and more beautiful than the last. But if I could go anywhere in the universe, I would go to 50-B-18-RT or PR2-57-lu-96. They are free colonies. You make your own future, and you live the way you choose. I find this fascinating.”
“Why don’t you go there?”
“I don’t want to leave my mother behind.”
Unlike me. I left my mother behind.
He seems to read my mind. “Not like that, Ellie. Your mother is—” He cuts off as we reach a main road and what seems to be a standoff between our species. The other side of the street is packed with vehicles, and there are figures on either side, weapons pointed at each other. The headlights on the trucks shine bright and threatening behind the humans, cutting through the dimness of twilight. The brilliant glow of the Ilori panels illuminate their group. There’s an Ilori on the ground, not moving, stuck in the middle. Dead? I know they can die, but how?
Morris cuts the music off, and stops on the shoulder. “Ferk.”
“Do you mean fuck?”
“Yes, that is exactly what I mean.”
“It’s quiet... It looks like no one knows what to do.” I narrow my eyes. “They haven’t seen us. Do we have to go in there? Can we get around them?” I touch the tips of my fingers to my neck, as if the rope is still tied around it, waiting for me to fall again as I regard them.
The humans look aggressive while the Ilori seem out of place, as if the humans stumbled upon them taking a leisurely walk or something. They have their hands up, and yet the humans don’t withdraw their weapons.
Morris hesitates. “I prefer to stay out of conflicts.”
“Me, too.” I nod. “We don’t know them, and it’s none of our business.”
“We will get around it.” The Ilori stop and turn to stare at us. And then the humans do the same. “Well, we could have.”
“Shit, what do we do?” I sink lower into the seat.
“I’m going to try to defuse the situation. It would be safest for you to stay here.”
He gets out and crosses through the cars and over the road, which riles up the humans even more, as their shouts become frantic and one swings a weapon Morris’s way.
The air leaves my lungs in one big exhale. My fists tighten by my sides. They’re going to shoot, I know it. And right now, Morris is all I have. He says he can save my family. And I don’t know them, my fellow humans...but I know they could just as well shoot me. I should let it be. If they die, it’s not my problem. They mean nothing to me.
But there’s a voice in the back of my head, loud and clear, asking me if I can truly sit back and watch the humans die. I can’t forgive Morris for doing that. Why should I do the same?
Traitor. A cowardly traitor stands aside and lets people die at the hands of the other.
I’m not a traitor.
I heave a sigh before I get out of the car and maneuver through the cars along the street until I stand in front of the line of humans. They’re all dressed in plaid winter gear, shotguns balanced in their arms. None of them shake. Morris stands in front of the two Ilori, their bright blue panels lighting the concern and maybe fear in their features, as he puts his fist over his heart and bows. They return the gesture. My eyes flick to the Ilori on the ground before I peer back at the humans.
There’s a tremor in my voice, but I try to stay cool. “What’s this about?”
“You a human or one of them?” A large, bearded white man eyes me for a moment, then stares back at the Ilori. He seems like the leader of the group. The bright lights from the trucks behind him make it difficult for me to see every detail of his face, but I do notice that his lips are curled back in anger. He doesn’t lower his gun.
“Human. My name’s Janelle.” Why did I do this again? There are so many characters from books that do this very thing and end up dead. Throwaway characters. I don’t need to be a tragic hero.
“Janelle, you better run. We won’t get taken by these fuckers. Already got one.”
“What if you could just walk away? Just walk away, don’t kill them. Killing them...they don’t like that. And the one behind me, he’s the strongest.” I plead with them, waving my arms around as if that will help me make my point.
“Don’t give a shit. Nothing’ll survive a gunshot to the head.”
From what I know of the Ilori, guns are useless scraps of metal that humans try to use against them before the humans die. But the unmoving Ilori behind me is proof enough that whatever these humans have for ammunition works. I turn toward Morris, but he is communicating in weird sounds with the others.
“Back off. Please. I don’t want to see any more death. I can’t.” My voice cracks, surprising me, and I swat at sudden tears. How many bodies have I seen hung from our building? How many people stabbed in the halls, bleeding out on the floors while fights broke out? Moms missing, parents joining the Kill Squads... At the beginning of the invasion, the cities fell first. And we stayed in our building, looking out windows as people fought and died around us. But we didn’t leave. We were safe, locked inside. When the Ilori came for us... Maybe I am a traitor, or at least a coward.
“Get out of here.” He doesn’t even hear me, doesn’t care. But he huffs when I stand in front of his gun like a wannabe protagonist hero who hasn’t yet realized that she’s made a fatal error.
“Please.”
“You think I won’t kill you, too?” He looks me in the eyes. My anxiety should be peaking right now, but part of me doesn’t believe that a fellow human, even at the end of his rope, will shoot me. He can’t hate me; he doesn’t know me.
A little voice in my head reminds me that this isn’t true. This world has a history of hate. The names and events rise to the surface of my mind with my numbers.
Five, Tamir Rice, Heather Heyer, Emmett Till, Oscar Grant, Nia Wilson. Four, little church girls, Addie Mae Collins, Carol Denise McNair, Carole Robertson and Cynthia Wesley. Three, Tree of Life. Christchurch. Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church. Two, people out shopping, Maurice Stallard and Vicki Lee Jones. One, so many—too many—black transgender women to name.
And so many, many more, I’d have to count again and again. That’s not my situation, but I’m staring down the barrel of a gun, held by a stranger who might take this opportunity to express his deep-seated hate.
To my relief, he lowers his weapon. I did it. We are in this together. I made a change. I helped, maybe I even saved a few lives tonight. A hand touches my shoulder, and I freeze.
“Lower your weapons.” Morris stands against my back, his voice reverberating through our shared contact. Goose bumps creep up my spine. Suddenly, I’m aware that Morris is an intimidating alien to everyone but me... “The other Ilori are leaving. We want no fight.”
I tilt my head to see the Ilori disappear into the trees beside the road, one carrying the fallen one. I glance back to the men.
“Fuck you, alien. You came here to fight. You took everything. We’ll take our world back.” The guy raises the gun with me still in the crosshairs. Morris stiffens behind me, and then the gun warps in front of my face, melting before my eyes. The guy screams and jumps back. The others do the same, dropping their guns.
“Go. Travel west, you may find refuge in the middle of your country. You may battle for freedom there, but not now. I have saved you, but you have threatened the life of my friend, and this I cannot tolerate.”
The men stare at me, differently this time. I’m an alien’s friend; and I can’t tell if they’re disgusted or enraged or confused or all three. At the moment, I don’t care. Morris is my friend. He saved my life, he kept his promise. He said that he saved my family and Alice, and he’s told me the truth since the beginning. That’s more than even my parents could do for me.
The humans jump into their SUVs and truck
s. Tires screech as they speed off, sending up pebbles that hit my legs in their wake. I cover my eyes, hoping no dust or dirt gets in. When they’re gone, we’re enveloped in blackness. I can’t even see their trucks anymore, just the lights from our own truck.
I turn around to Morris. The Ilori he communicated with are long gone, even the fallen one. I can’t see that well, but I know I’m looking up at him, because his breath tickles my face and his body warmth radiates onto me.
“How did you do it? With the Ilori? Aren’t you like the Iloris’-Most-Wanted? Did one of them die?”
“She was fatally injured. The humans had electric ammo, and the Ilori scouts were on low charges.” He ignored my question about being wanted by his masters. I guess he doesn’t want to answer.
I exhale slowly, letting the fear go until my muscles lose their tension. “But how did you get them to spare the humans? Why was there a standoff to begin with? The Ilori are powerful, they could have killed them.”
Morris’s tone is soft. “Death defeats our purpose, Ellie. The labmades on the road weren’t being commanded by the true Ilori, they were observing nature, geology, farm patterns for Habitation. They don’t feel the urge—they weren’t created to kill, and although we aren’t supposed to feel, we do. We feel fear and loss and worry. We are like humans.”
“Only less violent. Well, the labmades, I mean.” My gaze lands on a dark puddle of blood in the middle of the street, lit by the moonlight. “I’m sorry. Is she...?”
“She was shot in her panel with electric ammunition. Instant death.” His breath shakes. “There have been too many losses. Many of my race and yours have died...” He looks at the ground and then back at me, sorrow marring his beautiful features. “The other Ilori will give our fallen comrade a proper burial, for which I am grateful. To leave her body in the street, as if it did not matter, would have been dishonorable. It may not seem it, for there has been so much death by our hands, yet we labmades treasure life. Respect life.”
I shake my head, remembering the news of dead black children shot in the streets, immigrant children locked in cages, murders, politics, white supremacy... The Ilori have more honor and respect for their people, even in death, than some humans. I glance up at him, and for a moment, I see an expression that’s been etched into my own face, my dad’s, my mom’s. It’s the look of a person who knows that, to someone else, their life doesn’t matter. It’s a side of Morris I haven’t seen before. Vulnerable, scared, hopeless.
Morris steps closer into the beams from the headlights of our car. His brilliant eyes brighten and soften on me. He seems to struggle with something but says nothing as his hand swings by his side. He brushes a finger against the corner of my cheek. “They were going to kill you.”
“Who?”
“The humans. They didn’t care. They were burdened with such hatred that they do not care if they hurt others like them.” His voice is small, raspy. “I know we deserve their hatred, but you don’t.”
My eyebrows lift. “I thought you said you couldn’t read minds.”
“I can’t, but I could see it on their faces.”
“So... I’ve escaped death twice now. I’m becoming The Boy Who Lived.” I try to joke, but my heart’s hammering, not only because my own species was about to kill me, but because Morris is running his fingers along my jawline.
“I’ve never... I’ve never touched a human like this,” he whispers. “Do you mind?”
“No,” I gulp. “Is it much different than touching an Ilori?”
“Yes. You are warmer, and I can feel the beat of your heart.” He closes his eyes and sighs. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“You aren’t.” I surprise myself by the truth of it. I like Morris. Even though there are millions of reasons that I shouldn’t. This friendship has no future. It’s hard to hold hatred in your heart for long, so I close my eyes and let it go. I feel sadness for what my world was, and what it could have been if the Ilori hadn’t come to claim it. I can’t forgive them for all this, but I can let myself be free of the anger for a moment, if only because it’s healthy.
“We should go.” His fingers lace through mine.
“West?”
“To either doom or salvation.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s very dramatic, Morris.”
We cross the road back to our car. The sound he makes is something between laughter and choking. “I’m working on it.”
“You don’t have to be human for me. Just be yourself.” I slide into my seat and Morris closes the door.
Morris slides behind the steering wheel. “Be myself? I hardly know what that is. But I know whoever I am is very happy to have met you, Ellie.”
“So am I, Morris.” And I mean it. “Let’s see what other songs are on here.”
“Music would be great, but another story, perhaps, as well? I like your stories.”
I chew my lower lip. “Once upon a time in England, during the Second World War, three siblings were transported to another world called the Woodlands. Evelyn, Jamie and Philippa—who my mom said I’m very much like, because she’s strong, although I don’t always see it that way—return home but still struggle to find where they belong...”
* * *
I tap on Morris’s shoulder as I awake to the first rays of sun on the horizon. I remember finishing the story and drifting off to sleep. “Let me drive. You look tired.”
Morris wearily scrubs at his forehead. His blue panel light is dim. He looks exhausted, if that’s even possible. “Do you know how to drive?”
I hesitate. “Well, no, not really. But, I mean, there’s no one out here, and there isn’t a whole lot I can get wrong, right?”
He gives a reluctant sigh but pulls over. “Ilori don’t normally need sleep. But a few hours will restore 1 or 2 percent of my energy.”
“Do you know how much charge you have left?”
He grimaces, hitting a button on his panel. “Seven percent. Melting the gun, running in the woods...it took a lot out of me.”
I nod. “Don’t worry, if anything serious happens, I’ll wake you.” I’m about to open the door when Morris puts a hand on my arm.
“There’s snow on the ground, and it’s very cold outside. I really don’t like the cold. Please.”
I cover my mouth, trying not to laugh. “I had no idea, Morris. I thought you were invincible.”
“My home planet is warm. The cold makes me unhappy.”
“Okay, I’ll go up, you stay down and slide over. Got it?”
I scoot against the window while Morris slides over. For a brief second, I’m hovering over him and he’s beneath me when our eyes lock. He draws his face closer to mine, but I pull back and turn around before plopping onto my seat. I feel a bit breathless but I don’t know why.
“All right, so what do I do?” I look at Morris, but he’s fallen asleep or powered down or whatever Ilori do.
I sigh and hit the gas. We shoot forward, and Morris startles awake. “Not too hard. Just a little touch till you figure it out.”
“And where am I going?”
“Follow this road for the next three hours. I will wake before the path changes, if that is satisfactory to you?” He is already drifting to sleep, his breathing slow.
“Mmm-hmm.” My nerves are all over the place, but if we’re ever going to get anywhere, I need to learn to do this. I can’t rely on others to always save me. My foot gingerly pushes down on the pedal, and we move forward. Simple. I take a deep breath. I can do this.
I give myself another mental pep talk and, by the time I finish, Morris is asleep, his chest rising and falling softly. I relax and settle in, hoping I won’t have to brake or use that shift thing in the center again. But I hum along to the song—it’s either John Denver or James Taylor, I can never tell the difference. I take a deep breath and daydream abo
ut an alternate version of me that didn’t live through an invasion, where driving with a boy would be equally new, but in a very different way.
CHAPTER 12
“Why Don’t We Fall in Love”
—Amerie
M0Rr1S
Ellie is singing. Her voice is beautiful, and it fills him with warmth and this weird feeling in the bottom of his stomach. It’s the sort of feeling he gets when he hears a new song for the first time; an all-consuming desire to listen to it again and again and know every note—every lyric—until he can breathe the music. He pretends to be asleep while she continues to sing and counts in between verses to keep herself here and focused.
There are so many things he wants to tell her, things she won’t want to know but are worth discussing. But he can’t do that now. Not while she’s singing and rocking her shoulders back and forth. Dancing—that’s what the humans call it. Ilori don’t dance; it serves no purpose. Yet, M0Rr1S wants to dance, just like that, and with her.
He’d almost kissed her. He didn’t plan to. It was just...she was close, and since the beginning, he’s been drawn to her. So much so that, in that moment where they swapped seats, he felt compelled to lean in. To feel his lips against hers... He wonders what that might be like. Ilori kiss, but never on the lips, not like humans. M0Rr1S has kissed for pleasure, for fun, because he was expected to. But humans? What does kissing mean to them?
Ellie sings louder, interrupting his thoughts. M0Rr1S catches himself smiling. “Oh, you’re awake.” Ellie doesn’t take her eyes off the road. She’s focused, and M0Rr1S finds his smile widening.
“Yes, just awakened. How long have I rested?”
“A few hours,” she responds, skirting a car lying upside down on the side of the road. She grins. “Turns out, I’m a natural at driving.”
“Is there anything you’re not good at, Ellie?”
“I’m total crap at plenty of things.”
“Such as?”
She huffs. “Such as I suck at writing, I have way too many ideas to focus on one.” She pauses a moment before continuing. “I’m a horrible cook, have no clue about anything fashion. I’m also the worst at parties, socializing—I’m generally not good with people—and sports. All sports. It’s like my body just can’t do them. Oh, and paying attention is hard when I have a million daydreams and fantasies going on in my head. As one of my teachers said, I live in my own world...” She laughs a little. “And high heels. I can’t walk in them.”