The Sound of Stars

by Alechia Dow

  “How do we know you aren’t one of them half-solutions weirdos?” the man in charge demands.

  “I—I don’t know. I’m—” Panic rises in my throat. It’s striking now of all times? Can’t my brain give me a break? Breathe in, breathe out. Relax. They aren’t going to free me. They think I’m working for the Ilori. They’re right to be suspicious. I could be. But there’d be something off about me? Like my dad. He looks like us but acts like them. I mean, is there any way to act more human? Should I cry? Should I sing or dance?

  “Where’d you come from?”

  I jump on the change of subject. Counting things around the room in my head while I answer. “New York. New York City.”

  He looks me up and down. “That’d explain the accent. Where are your parents?”

  “Gone.” They might very well be vaccinated at this point. Which causes another round of numbers to rattle in my mind.

  He considers my words before blowing smoke through the bars. “You can come out. We’ve got a doctor here. Can look at your head, and check to see if you’re one of them.” He spits it out, looking at Morris. “But it stays here.”

  “He won’t hurt anyone. He’s different...and the Ilori are coming for him.”

  “We’ll see about that.” He nods to the soldiers. “Let her out. Escort her to Doc.”

  He eyes Morris. “Move and we’ll kill you. Maybe even her, if she means so much to you.”

  Morris opens his eyes and stares at the man. For the first time, I see hatred in them. “Hurt her, and your death will follow.”

  The timbre of his voice sends goose bumps down my arms. The man’s eyes flash briefly.

  The gate swings open. Two soldiers pull me out and press my arms behind my back. Morris still doesn’t move. I stare at him in the darkness, although the light is brighter in the hallway, blinding me a bit. “I’ll come back for you, Morris. I won’t leave you here.”

  Morris looks at me, and my breath catches. There are rings around his eyes, and his black hair clings to the sides of his face. His skin is sallow, and even his movements are slow. They’ve drained him. He can’t save us now.

  But he’s still beautiful. The kind of beauty that almost doesn’t feel real and therefore can’t be anything but alien to this world. That’s how they’ll look at him. An alien. An outsider. A monster. What he really is, though... My heart thumps in my chest as the realization sinks in. He’s my friend. He’s my... We have this...thing, this bond between us. I didn’t feel it till now. But there it is. I know him. I feel comfortable with him. I care about him.

  “Ellie, I trust you.” His gaze holds mine.

  The other humans push me forward, breaking our eye contact and I stumble on the tiled floor. I’m led down a windowed hall and up a flight of stone stairs. We were—Morris is—on the bottom floor in the middle of a desert. I store that thought away. Every time I try to take in my surroundings, I’m shoved onward. At first it seems like we’re in a strip mall, but then I realize we’re in an actual mall. We walk by a Victoria’s Secret that’s in shambles, a Gymboree and an Orange Julius. The surroundings remind me of a dystopian novel, and I imagine the characters who live within these walls. Who are fighting a system. The idea entertains me on the long walk to wherever I’m going.

  I end up in a nurse’s office of some sort, like at school. It’s a small white room with an examination table and medical-looking things on a tray. There’s a bored looking woman with brown hair in a ponytail and cutoff jeans, wielding a stethoscope around her neck. She looks at me briefly before returning to her patient. She’s got to be in her late twenties tops, but she’s hardened and weary, covered in dirt, as she assesses a little girl’s leg.

  “Stay off it, feels like a fracture. And tell Jilly to stop playing so rough, okay?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” The little girl’s accent is strong Texan, and it’s adorable.

  The doc tilts her head, and a soldier sets the little girl in a wheelchair. They push her away, leaving me and the others standing there waiting.

  “You’re the girl who travels with an Ilori?” Her eyebrows rise, but she’s unimpressed.

  “He’s my friend. He’s saved my—”

  “Don’t care. Sit up on the table.” She turns her back to me and I do as she says. There’s no paper lining, and she doesn’t wear a lab coat. It’s an odd experience.

  She comes over with an instrument and the tool-laden tray. One is a black dot, a circular device that could fit into the palm of my hand. First, she shines the light in my eyes and then she checks my ears, my mouth and nose. She attends to the cut on the back of my head, then tests my reflexes.

  “Hypo and anxiety, yeah?”

  I gape at her. “How did you know?”

  “Your hands are shaking and your body language is tense. Your heart is racing and you’ve been counting under your breath throughout the examination. There could be a lot of reasons, but I’ve seen this before. Used to be a psych student,” she answers, matter-of-fact. “Did you take meds before they came?”

  “Yes, and after.”

  “What did you take?”

  “Synthetic hormone treatment for the hypothyroidism, around thirty micrograms, and a small dosage antianxiety med, ten milligrams. Can’t remember which one now.”

  “Well, good news? You’re not an Ilori or one of those mood-enhanced humans.” She snorts. “Bad news? We ran outta antianxiety meds maybe two months ago, and I don’t have any thyroid meds here with me. They’re upstairs. But I think if I give you twenty mil packages of the synthetic, and load a bag with it, you’ll be set for a long time. As long as any of us have anyway.”

  “Really, you have meds?” Through my surprise, I’m hopeful. I knew I wouldn’t find something for the anxiety. People needed those pills the most when the Ilori came, and if I had hypo pills and got my vitamins in, the anxiety was manageable using coping mechanisms. But it’s plagued me for so long, I forgot what it’s like to have help dealing with it. The way my mind reels while I’m sleeping, the way books and my hat are the only comfort that takes away the jitters and worries. Help. I could have help. And then I remember the end of our world is nigh. “What’s the point when who knows how much time we have?”

  “The people here, they think they’re gonna survive here forever. They take their meds, water their gardens and continue believing in this fantasy world they’ve made for themselves. We don’t wanna tell them the truth—the Ilori will come for us any day now. There’s nowhere safe anymore to just exist.” She hands me a slip of paper. “And I do have the meds.”

  “There’s permanent housing. It’s not bad.” I accept her offer and close it in my fist. “Too bad about the antianxiety meds.”

  She pats my shoulder. “I know what it’s like. I do. You need the hypo medicine, even if you get captured, it’ll help your energy. I can see that in your fingernails, and you look tired. But anxiety? We’ve lost a war with aliens, kid. No amount of meds will make you feel all right with that. What matters is that you’ve found a way to cope. A lot of ’em upstairs haven’t.”

  I take a long, deep breath and let it out slowly before nodding.

  “Look, normally, they wouldn’t even let me give out the synthetic hormone to an outsider but...give this to the guy upstairs.” She sighs before leaning closer. “What’s up with you and the Ilori?” Her voice is low, and she glances at the guards by the door. They can’t hear us, at least I don’t think so.

  “He saved my life and I think...he doesn’t want me to tell you the rest.”

  “You don’t have to trust me. But...they’re not going to let you go with him. They’ll kill him or ask me to dissect him. He’s not leaving here alive. As for you? I don’t know what they’ll do. Maybe they’ll keep you for a while as long as you’re useful. You need to know what you’re getting into here. This is one of the last shelters in this state. It’s big. L
eaders rise, leaders fall. None of them will be sympathetic.”

  “Why can’t I just take Morris and leave? We don’t want anything. We aren’t going to tell anybody—”

  “There’s a strong sentiment here—if you aren’t with us, you’re with them. I mean, we know the vaccine is happening, right?”

  “It happened,” I admit.

  “How soon will it be before there are humans walking among us, coming here, acting like us but aren’t us?”

  I shake my head. “If you let them take you to housing, you’ll be the safest.”

  “If they take us, we’ll be vaccinated. And if taking the vaccine makes you safe, why haven’t you taken it?”

  I bite my lip. How do I tell her I don’t want to? That I’m going with Morris on possibly a suicide mission to upload a frequency-code-song-thing that will restore the humans if the ship we go to isn’t completely wrecked. Then, if we don’t get captured or die, I’ll see my parents and Alice again. I’ll fight for Earth. And if we somehow, miraculously, win that, we’ll settle in here before we fly off into the universe exploring new worlds. That sounds unrealistic...she’d never believe me. I don’t believe me. “I can’t tell you,” is all I end up saying.

  “You keep your secrets, but don’t be surprised if you die with them.”

  “What is that?” I point to the black dot on the tray.

  She sighs. “Tech. We call ’em buzzkillers. When the invasion happened, the remaining army, you know the ones not killed during the strikes, found out that these things were built to run on electricity. The buzzkillers stick to electrical products and drain them. Got a million boxes of them around here. The manufacturer’s a few miles away. Well, they were, anyway.”

  I slide off the table, about to walk toward the guards as if I’ve been dismissed. The doctor stops me with a hand on my arm.

  “They’ll take you upstairs. I don’t know how long they’ll keep him alive.”

  I raise my head. “Then I’d better find a way out before they kill him. He’s the only chance humanity has.”

  “If that’s the truth, then you need my help.”

  “Are you going to give it to me?”

  “Maybe.” This time she walks away, and I really have been dismissed.

  The guards escort me upstairs, up a broken escalator, no less. I’m brought into an old Macy’s that’s been gutted but still has the sign hanging above the awning. There are children playing with blocks and toys, people sitting at makeshift tables, some crying, some mixing food or cutting vegetables. My eyes can only take in so much. This is humanity with freedom, or something closer to freedom.

  I’m led through it all. I earn a few glances, but not one word. I expected curiosity, but all I see are tired, worn-down people trying to survive despite the odds. The last thing they want or need is another mouth to feed, or body to take up space. This great mall is theirs, and suddenly, I realize I might be in one of the biggest human sanctuaries on Earth. How long can this place last?

  An office door opens and I’m shoved inside, reality slamming back to me.

  “Sit.”

  It’s an order from a man who stands with his back to me while rummaging through a pile of... I can’t make it out. I sit in a cushioned red chair that’s been slashed down the center. Still comfortable, though. A yawn escapes through my teeth, and he turns back to me.

  “Why are you traveling with an Ilori?” His Texan accent is thick. His salt-and-pepper hair’s cropped close to his scalp, and he looks like he used to fight in the army before—maybe even during—the invasion.

  “He saved my life and helped me escape two centers.” Also, I sorta like him. Like, a lot.

  “Is he carrying the vaccine?”

  I shake my head. But he created it.

  He huffs. “What are his plans?”

  “To change Earth.” And save it. I hold my head high.

  He rubs his chin. “How old are you?”

  “Seventeen.” But I feel so much older.

  “Why are your hands shaking?”

  I look down and realize the paper the medic handed me is crumpled in my shaking hands. I place it on the desk in front of me. He scans it. “All right.”

  He turns once more and sorts through a file cabinet until he produces a small box.

  “Thyroid meds?” He holds out the box. I reach for it, but he pulls back. “Tell me why you’re traveling with an Ilori. Tell me everything you know, tell me everything about it. And you get the meds. I bet they’d make you feel a lot better, right?”

  I lean back in my seat. “Do you know that it’d take about one month, maybe two for those meds to kick in?”

  He sneers. “Do you want them?”

  I could lie. “I do.”

  “Tell me everything.”

  “No.”

  “Fine, you can go back into a cell.” I shrug. I’d rather be with Morris anyway. “I’m not putting you next to your alien friend either. You can go sit with the wolves. We’ll see how you feel then.”

  “Wolves?”

  “Part of that half-solutions vaccine mess. Escaped from whatever centers they lived in after the vaccine addled their mind. Made them weird. They call themselves the wolves. Enjoy.”

  I’m lifted from my seat by a guard behind me and nearly dragged out of the office. They don’t take me back through the people. Five, the long white hallway with flickering fluorescents above. Four, a set of double doors. I squint as we move from the brightness of the hallway into the darkness of this new area. But I catch sight of, three, an oversize dog crate in the center of the room as the minimal light beams off the metal bars. The rest of the room is cast in impenetrable darkness. They lead me in, stopping in front of the cage. Two...

  “Get on your knees.”

  I do as I’m told before there’s a soft pop of the door swinging off its hinges.

  “Get inside.” I crawl in, holding back the tears and anger and horror. The door closes, and then they leave me there, enveloped in the pitch-black. Am I alone?

  I blink repeatedly. My vision’s starting to adjust when someone calls out to me. Two, whoever’s in here with me.

  “Little girl, what have you done?” And then there is a collective howling, like wolves, but so distinctly human. The sound of metal chains clinking against the floor has my heart hammering. “Ever hear the story of the little girl eaten by a wolf?”

  One...

  “You mean Little Red Riding Hood?” I counter through shaky breaths. “She lives in the end.”

  “In this one, she won’t.”

  Fingers drag across the cage, rattling me. One, a breath that warms my cheek. I may be locked in this crate, but I am not safe, and I don’t know how many of them there are.

  I scream but that only makes them laugh harder.

  CHAPTER 19

  “Bohemian Rhapsody”

  —Queen

  M0Rr1S

  The stone walls feel like they’re caving in on him, and the dirt floor lacks comfort. It’s been hours since Ellie was taken away, and he doesn’t know if they hurt her, or if she’ll come back. She said she would, but who knows what forces will stand in her way?

  His charge is at 1 percent. Enough to sit here, to breathe, but even movement is tough now. Resting will help, but then what will he do? He could try to dislodge the bars of his prison. He could try to walk out of there, but they have Ellie. And they have those eerily effective weapons. Another hit with one of those will wipe him out. He will not leave without Ellie, not when he doesn’t trust the humans to take care of her. Even if death is certain should he remain, he would rather face it than a life without her. Besides, if he doesn’t get out of here soon, Brixton will find him. Maybe even 0rsa will come. They might kill the humans.

  They might pry into his mind.

  M0Rr1S finds himself thinking of his
mother, Glind. She showed him love when his father and his brother showed him only hatred. She would never kill innocent creatures simply because she could. Because they possessed something she wanted. Why couldn’t all true Ilori be like her?

  His mother commissioned his creation, and she loved him before he even existed. Glind is the head of a secret government within the empire, and has worked tirelessly to overthrow both the emperor and Father, the heir. To expose their plan now would mean exposing her, and he cannot do that either. She created him to enact this plan on Earth. She hopes it will be the first of many failures for the Ilori Empire, and although she may forgive M0Rr1S for his mistakes, he will not forgive himself if anything happens to her. Or Ellie.

  Or AvR0la.

  Or any of the millions of humans and labmades working within these structures to impact change.

  A song comes to his mind. He closes his eyes as he hums it, the highs and the lows fitting perfectly to this moment. It’s his fault that he and Ellie are here. He pulled over without checking the area, he let the humans capture them.

  He allows himself to indulge in a daydream, imagining a moment where everything is okay.

  Ellie is there behind his eyes, waiting for him in front of the car. The moon beams down on them as she sings, holding her hand out to him. “Bohemian Rhapsody” by Queen swirls around, the melody in and out of time. Her brown skin is luminous, as if she has painted herself with stardust, and his breath hitches. He pulls her close, his hands twitching with nerves. And then the instrument solo—he doesn’t know what makes that noise—is amazing and full of life. He and Ellie dance, close but never close enough. He misses her. He imagines her eyes on his, her mouth parted with small breaths escaping between her lips, as they lean toward each other. A kiss. Finally, yes, a kiss.

  “Didn’t know aliens liked music.” A small voice comes from the hallway, startling M0Rr1S out of his fantasy. It’s quiet once more, and he begins to wonder if the voice was real.

  But his question is answered when a child stops in front of his cell.

  “Is it true? You’re one of them?” They run their fingers down the sides of the bars, and squeak when a bit of grime sticks.