The Bones Beneath My Skin

by TJ Klune

  He stepped back.

  Nate wished he could say that made him feel better.

  It didn’t.

  Oren—Peter—leaned his head to the side like he was trying to peer around the great wall of Alex. “Hello there,” he said, voice quiet.

  Nate thought Alex wouldn’t let her go. That he’d keep her right where she was, and that’d be a damn good thing.

  Except she pulled away from his grasp and stepped around him. She stopped when she stood in front of them. Nate had to keep himself from putting his hand on her shoulder.

  She stared up at Peter. Nate wondered what was going through her head. Eventually she said, “Hello.”

  Peter bowed his head again. “It’s nice to see you as you are now. It was… brief. The last time.”

  She took another step toward him. “It was. Did you understand what was happening to you? When they separated us?”

  “Not at the time,” Peter said, voice barely a whisper. “I remember thinking how much it hurt and how quiet it was after. How alone I felt. And then I saw you. Her. As you are now, and I felt you pulling me. But I couldn’t go. No matter how hard I tried, I could not follow.”

  Nate was startled when he looked around the farmyard to see that Peter’s people had their heads bowed. Their eyes closed, lips moving silently.

  “I didn’t know what they were doing,” Artemis said. “What would happen. Do you believe me?”

  “Yes,” Peter said. “I believe you.” He held up his hands, wiggling his smooth fingertips. “Maybe not at first. When you were torn from me, you took part of me with you. I was… bare. Wiped clean. I was Oren, but at the same time I wasn’t. I had his memories. I could remember things that had happened… before. But taking you from me took everything from myself, and I had to figure out who I was. In that respect, I was reborn. I could become something more than I’d been before. Something greater. It was necessary, I think. In the end.”

  She cocked her head at him. “Are you happy?”

  A flicker of something stuttered across his face, but it was gone before Nate could figure out what it was. What was left was a trembling smile and wet eyes. “I believe I am.” He took in a deep breath and let it out through his nose. “I’ve been waiting for this day.”

  “I know,” Art said. “It was time for me to see you again.”

  He sank to his knees in front of her.

  She reached up and took his face in her small hands. His eyes fluttered shut as he leaned into it, moaning quietly.

  “I never meant to take you from your life,” she said, voice low. “I was scared. I wasn’t supposed to be where I was. I froze you in time. You lost years because of me.”

  He shook his head as she held him. “And you gave me something more. This is who I’m supposed to be. This is what I was made for. Here. Now. This moment. And it’s because of you I can say that. These are auspicious days. And now that you’re here, I believe it can only get better.”

  She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

  He sighed.

  Art dropped her hands and stepped back until she bumped into Alex. He put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently.

  Peter Williams stood slowly. His eyes were dry. The smile had returned.

  His people followed suit.

  It was creepy as all hell.

  “What do you call yourself now?” he asked.

  Art grinned. “Artemis Darth Vader.”

  There was laughter from the people of the farm.

  Even Peter chuckled. “You are safe here,” he said again. “They will not find you. You may rest your tired bodies without worry. Come. See what I have made in the wake of the earthquake you brought out in me.”

  The woman who’d fetched Peter was named Dolores. She was in her sixties, with a kindly smile and dark eyes. She was short and trim with graying black hair. Nate noticed her fingernails seemed to be bitten to the quick. She led them toward the kitchen, fretting over them all, but especially Artemis. The others had resumed their work, gazes lingering as they followed Peter and Dolores inside the house. Nate brought up the rear, and he glanced back through the screen door before it shut in time to see them all look away.

  The house itself was wide and spacious, old wooden floors creaking with every step they took. There was a great room off to the left of the door with two large sofas piled high with decorative pillows. There were floor-to-ceiling bookshelves filled with books completely covering a far wall. Artemis let out a squeal of joy at the sight of them and was ready to rush over, but Alex stopped her. She glared up at him, and Nate almost choked at how much she looked like Alex in that exact moment. He tried not to think about the future.

  There were stairs directly ahead that led to the second floor, and a hallway next to them. To the right of the main doorway was a dining room with a long table that looked as if it would fit everyone on the farm that had been there to greet them. The table was old and looked like heavy oak.

  Dolores made sure they followed her to the kitchen. Peter had disappeared somewhere farther into the house, telling them they were in good hands and that he had matters to attend to. Nate hadn’t seen where he’d gone.

  In the kitchen, a battery-powered radio played quietly with a voice that Nate recognized.

  “…and it’s getting closer, friends,” Steven Cooper was saying. “Can’t you see that? Can’t you feel it down to your very bones? It’s getting closer, and there will be contact. We will finally behold the wonders of the universe, our minds expanding in ways that you couldn’t even begin to comprehend. They are coming for us, friends. You mark my words. Soon, all will be revealed. All will be shown. And the picture that has been long kept hidden from us will be startlingly clear. We will see things that we have only imagined. They may try to hide it from us, they may try and tell us that it isn’t real. But we have the photographic evidence. We have the proof. And don’t even get me started on what our government is capable of. They work with the Russians. With the Saudis. They release AIDS upon the population to try and cull the herd. They want to control us by telling us we need vaccinations. That we need to drink the water. But we know. In two days, that comet will be as close as it will ever be, and we know. Caller, you’re on the air. What are your thoughts on—”

  Dolores turned the radio off. “I could listen to him all day,” she said, almost sounding apologetic. “I know he’s… a little out there, but…” She glanced down at Art before looking back at Alex. “How far off can he be?”

  Nate didn’t know what to say to that. He wouldn’t have pinned Dolores as the type to listen to such bullshit. Granted, he didn’t know the first thing about her, but still. She looked like someone’s grandmother.

  “I don’t know,” Nate said, for lack of anything else.

  She barely gave him a glance. Her focus was on Artemis, who was looking wide-eyed around the sunlit kitchen. A window above the sink was open, with pots of flowers on the sill. Nate could hear people out in the yard, talking and laughing. “I bet you’re hungry,” she said. “You must have come a very long way.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Art said. “I could eat an entire pig right about now.”

  Dolores chuckled. “I’m afraid we don’t have any pigs here. Or any meat at all, really. Peter believes consuming flesh makes the mind weaker. We have all converted to veganism. Nothing that comes from an animal is allowed in the house.”

  “Huh,” Art said, cocking her head. “That sounds terrible.”

  “Artemis,” Alex warned.

  She winced. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I merely meant to say that while we are staying with you, we will honor the traditions of your home. And then, after we leave, I will find a waitress to give me all the bacon I require.”

  Alex sighed.

  Dolores didn’t look fazed in the slightest. “I’m sure. We’ll all sit for dinner at seven. There will be winter squash and lentil stew. But for now, I do ha
ve some freshly made chickpea fritters that I’m sure you’ll love.”

  Art looked dubious. “Oh yes. That sounds… delicious.”

  Nate adored her.

  Dolores smiled. “They are. I should know. I made them myself. Please, sit.” She looked up at Alex and Nate, smile fading slightly. “You as well, gentlemen. Peter will return shortly to show you where you will be staying.”

  There was a small circular table in a breakfast nook in the kitchen. There were four chairs set around it. Art pulled out one of the chairs, climbed up and sat on her knees, hands on the table. A vase of wildflowers sat in the middle. She reached out and traced a finger along the velvety petals. “I like flowers,” she said. “They’re so colorful. We don’t have ones like these where I come from.”

  Dolores dropped a plate on the counter. It didn’t break, but it clattered loudly. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly, face slightly red. “Clumsy of me. Just slipped right out of my hand.” She turned toward the oven, switching on the light and leaning over to peer inside.

  Nate stared at her back.

  “It’s fine,” Alex said in a low voice.

  Nate wasn’t sure that it was.

  And maybe Alex wasn’t either, because he pulled his chair close to Art. He grabbed a third and set it next to his before sitting down. He nodded toward the chair. Nate sat. They were far too close. Their elbows bumped. Their legs brushed together. There was enough room for them to spread out, but this was… better somehow. More comfortable.

  Dolores was still a little flushed when she came back, a tray filled high with fritters in her hands. She set it down carefully on the table, nudging the vase off to the side. The fritters were brown and crisp, oblong and flat, but Nate couldn’t even be sure what a chickpea was. There was a dish with a white paste sitting in the middle of the fritters.

  The presentation was immaculate.

  “It’s a garlic dill sauce,” Dolores said. “Made from scratch.”

  “It looks wonderful,” Nate said, trying to put her at ease. She looked more nervous than she had when they first arrived. He wondered if she was still stuck on Art’s comment about the flowers. Nate didn’t know if that was a good thing or not.

  But Dolores acted as if she barely heard him. Her focus was again on Art. “Yeah,” Art said. “It looks good. I can’t wait to try it. Might I have something to drink? Do you have juice?”

  “Oh, yes,” Dolores said. “I have apple.” She hurried back toward the fridge.

  Art leaned closer to Alex. “What’s garlic dill sauce, and why does it sound gross? Also, those hash brown cake things smell weird.”

  Nate snorted but covered it up with a cough when Dolores looked back at them over her shoulder.

  Alex took one of the fritters and broke it in half. He dipped it into the sauce and took a bite. Art watched his every move. Alex chewed slowly. Nate could see the exact moment when Alex decided he hated everything going on in his mouth but was going to put on a brave face for Art. “It’s good,” he grunted.

  “I don’t believe you,” Art said.

  “Neither do I,” Nate said.

  Alex scowled. “Just eat it. We don’t want to offend her.”

  Art squinted at him. “Why would she be offended? Don’t you think it would be more polite to tell her that what she made is inedible so she doesn’t make it for anyone else?”

  Alex looked to Nate for help.

  It wasn’t fair.

  Nate took the discarded half of the fritter Alex had left behind. He gave serious thought to skipping out on the sauce but decided to go for the full in-the-middle-of-nowhere-Pennsylvania-with-an-alien experience.

  It was… terrible, frankly. Nate wasn’t a vegan for a reason. The garlic was overwhelming, and he was pretty sure chickpeas were something he never wanted to eat again.

  “Mmm,” he said as he chewed. “So good.”

  Art stared at him suspiciously. “You’re a better liar than Alex. I can’t tell if you mean it or not.”

  But she took one of the fritters anyway. She brought it up to her nose and sniffed it. She grimaced but covered it up quickly when Dolores returned with a single glass of juice. Nate wished she was a more courteous host and had brought something for the rest of them, but he managed to keep his mouth shut.

  “The sauce is good,” Dolores told her as Art was about to take a sauceless bite.

  Her shoulders slumped a little. “Yeah, that’s what Alex and Nate said.”

  Dolores waited.

  Art sighed and dipped the fritter into the sauce. She narrowed her eyes before taking a small bite. She chewed. She swallowed. She set the fritter on the plate. She picked up the juice and drank the entire glass in one go. She set the glass back down. “Wow,” she said. “So good. And now I’m full.”

  Dolores frowned. “But—”

  “We had a big breakfast,” Nate said. “You know how it is.”

  “And we have to save room for winter squash and lentil stew,” Art said morosely.

  “Thank you, though,” Alex said. “It was very kind.”

  “Of course,” Dolores said, picking up the plate of fritters. “My apologies. I should have asked. Peter is always saying I try and feed everyone too much. When I had my grandchildren, I—” She paled and took a step back. Her smile was tremulous. “Well. I just like to cook.”

  Nate didn’t like the look on her face. “It’s okay. Maybe you could save those for later. I’m sure we’ll be hungry again soon enough. And you have grandkids? Do they—”

  “Dolores.”

  Peter stood in the entrance to the kitchen.

  Dolores’s eyes widened.

  “Thank you, Dolores,” Peter said. “You always make our guests feel welcome. I appreciate that more than I could ever say. That will be all for now.”

  Dolores nodded and scurried back into the kitchen. A moment later, the radio came back on and Steven Cooper began to rant and rave. She didn’t look back at them.

  “You’ll have to forgive her,” Peter said quietly. “She’s… had a hard life.”

  “Why?” Art asked, staring after her.

  Peter shook his head. “Things aren’t always like they are on the Mountain. Yes, we were in a box. Yes, they poked and prodded. But we were fed and clothed. We were warm and safe. But it was… illusory. Like being in a snow globe. The outside world can be harsh and unforgiving. People can lose sight of their paths so easily. Sometimes they just need to see the light in the dark to lead them home.”

  “You’ve changed,” Art said.

  Peter smiled. “You’re life-changing. Come. Let me show you where you will be staying.”

  He tried it. He really did. Nate had to give Peter credit for that. To have the balls to try and separate them given how much bigger Alex was in comparison was something Nate didn’t expect.

  Peter led them back outside. People were working in the garden and yard. Out in the fields. From what Nate could tell, none of them seemed even remotely alike. A few looked younger than him. A couple were as old as Dolores. Everyone else was somewhere in between. They were white and black. One appeared Middle Eastern. There was a beautiful Asian woman who waved at them from the rows of tomatoes.

  They followed Peter toward the barn. They were greeted by a large man with a sloping gut and a bald head. “The area is ready,” he told Peter.

  “Thank you, Adam,” Peter said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You have done well today.”

  Adam seemed to glow under the praise. He glanced curiously at Artemis, ignoring Alex and Nate, before he nodded and walked out toward the fields.

  The barn was larger than it appeared. It was two levels. The first housed a small combine harvester off to one side. On the other side was a long workbench with hooks embedded into the wall above it. Farm tools hung from some of these hooks. There were many empty spaces. Nate figured it was because they were in the hands of the people working around the farm. Bales of hay wer
e stacked around the interior of the barn.

  There was a steep wooden staircase near the back of the barn that led to the second floor. The wood creaked beneath their feet as they followed Peter up the stairs. The handrail wobbled slightly. Alex was behind Peter, and Nate brought up the rear. Art was between them. Nate thought Alex had planned it that way. Nate was relieved he was being cautious. There was something just… off about this whole place. Maybe it was just his overactive imagination colliding with everything he’d gone through in the last month. Maybe Peter was weird because he’d spent over two decades with an alien having taken over his body. That probably changed a person.

  The second floor of the barn had more hay, both loose and baled. Off to the right, the hay had been cleared. On the wooden floor sat a couple of air mattresses next to a stack of clean wool blankets and a battery-powered lantern. There was a window just above them, the swinging slats opening outward toward a long stretch of lonely fields.

  “It isn’t much,” Peter said. “But the rooms in the house are filled. Regardless, you will be comfortable out here. I myself have spent many a night in the barn, looking out the window up at the stars. It will be cool, but the blankets should keep you warm. Obviously, Artemis will have her own room in the house to—”

  So, yeah. Nate had to give it to Peter for at least trying that in the face of Alex Weir.

  “Art will be staying with us,” Alex growled.

  Peter didn’t seem to realize the dangerous ground upon which he was treading. “Surely not. There is a bed for her inside. She of all people doesn’t need to be staying in a barn.”

  “I thought you said it was comfortable,” Nate replied mildly. “You’ve stayed out here.”

  Peter smiled. It was so serene that Nate wanted to punch it down his throat. “Of course. But I am not her. She is different.”