by TJ Klune
He blinked slowly as Alex broke the kiss, pulling away with a wary look on his face. Waiting for Nate tell him off, to demand to know what the hell that had been. Nate couldn’t bear to see that look on his face, so he leaned forward and kissed him again. Alex made a grunt of surprise. It was short and sweet. They were both panting by the time their foreheads pressed together, breathing each other in.
“I’ve kind of wanted you to do that for a while,” Nate admitted quietly.
“Yeah?” Alex asked, and the smile was there again. “I kind of figured.”
“Asshole.”
“I’ve kind of wanted to do that to you for a while,” Alex said.
“Yeah? I kind of figured.”
Alex laughed and kissed his forehead before he pulled Nate close again. Nate wrapped an arm around his waist, turning his head until his nose pressed against Alex’s neck. They stood there, in a barn under an approaching comet called Markham-Tripp, wrapped up in each other. Nate thought about pushing for more, asking what this meant, where it could lead, what would happen to them… after. But for the life of him, he couldn’t make himself speak the words aloud. Instead, he pressed himself further against Alex and just breathed.
It was enough.
chapter sixteen
Nate made his way into the farmhouse the next morning. Alex and Art were out in the fields with some of Peter’s people, Art having demanded she see horses immediately once she’d found out about them. It was a good distraction, because she’d woken up between them the next morning and immediately stared at them suspiciously.
“Why is your chin all red?” she had asked Nate, narrowing her eyes at him.
Stubble burn, but he hadn’t known if he’d wanted to explain that to a nosy alien. “Must have slept on it funny.” He glared at Alex, who was doing a terrible job of covering his laughter.
“You slept on your chin wrong,” Art said dubiously.
Nate only shrugged. “Must have.”
“Hmm,” Art said.
So yes, he was thankful when Peter mentioned horses over breakfast, knowing that it was only a temporary distraction. Art would figure it out sooner or later. She couldn’t read their minds, not really, but they were… bonded, somehow. And she was perceptive. He had an idea of what her reaction would be, and he didn’t know if he was ready for it.
Alex hadn’t looked very pleased at the idea of Nate staying behind, but Nate had waved him away. “It’s fine. I’m going to see if they’ll let me do laundry. We need it. We’re all running out of clothes.”
Alex nodded slowly. Checking over his shoulder to make sure they weren’t being overheard, he dropped his voice. “Gun’s under my bedroll.”
Nate rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to shoot Dolores.”
“Nate.”
“Alex.”
“Don’t be difficult.”
“I—”
Alex had pulled him inside the barn, just out of sight, and kissed him furiously. Nate was still a little shell-shocked that this was a thing they could do now, and barely had time to reciprocate before Alex stepped back. “It’s just in case.”
“Yeah,” Nate said, slightly dazed. “Just in case.”
When they’d stepped back out of the barn, Art had looked up from where she’d been watching the people in the garden. “Huh,” she’d said. “You must have slept on your chin again in the last three minutes. Funny how that happens.”
Thank god for those damn horses. They made for a perfect distraction.
He’d gone back up to the hayloft where their duffel bags sat and dug through them, finding everything that needed to be washed. He’d transferred it to one bag and slung it over his shoulder, making his way out of the barn and toward the house.
There were people in the garden, pulling weeds and aerating the soil. They stopped as he passed them by, each of them greeting him warmly with broad smiles on their faces. It seemed as if they were… happier than they’d been the day before. Maybe it was the fact that Art was here. Maybe it was something else. But they were all smiles and kind words. It made Nate uneasy, but he responded cheerfully.
Dolores was in the kitchen, cleaning up the remnants of the breakfast she’d put out. There’d been large bowls of oatmeal with fruit and sugar. Art had not been a fan of the lack of meat.
And of course, the radio played in the background.
Their old friend Steven Cooper was on again. Nate wondered if he ever went off the air. “Tomorrow, friends,” Steven was saying. “Tomorrow is the day. Why, even now, even during daylight, you can see the Markham-Tripp. And oh, you know we’ve got them scared. Did you see that statement they released? Nothing to worry about, they said. It’s all a bunch of baloney, they said. It should be a fun event for the whole family, they said. As if they don’t know. As if they haven’t been preparing for this exact moment for years. You’re telling me, you’re really going to sit there and tell me that this comet was only discovered last year? One of the biggest and brightest astrological events of our lifetimes was only spotted a year ago. Hogwash, friends. Pure and utter hogwash. They’ve known about this. For years. Why, sources even tell me that they’ve known for a decade about this thing. The comet is just a front. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. It is just a front. You’ll see. By this time tomorrow, we will all bear witness to the greatest event in human history or I’ll eat my hat. Caller, you’re on the air. What are your thoughts on what tomorrow will bring?”
The caller was a shrill man speaking in biblical verses, and Nate cleared his throat even as Dolores was nodding along with the radio.
She startled a little, turning around, bringing the wet cloth to her bosom.
“Sorry,” Nate said, wincing slightly. “Didn’t mean to frighten you.”
Dolores laughed, an oddly braying sound. “Oh, Nate. That’s… okay. It’s… I wasn’t expecting anyone there.”
“Yeah.” He nodded toward the radio. “Must not have heard me coming.”
She nodded furiously as she reached over and turned down Steven Cooper. “It’s just… these are big days, you know? I wanted to hear what Mr. Cooper had to say.”
“Big days?”
She flushed. “The comet and all. It’s… a once-in-a-lifetime event.”
“So it sounds like. Cooper seems to think so.”
She wrung the dishcloth nervously. “I know you think he’s all poppycock and tomfoolery. That I’m probably foolish for listening to him like I do.”
Nate shrugged. “I don’t judge you for that at all. I mean, with everything I’ve seen lately, who am I to say that it’s not something?”
Her eyes widened. “Right?” She sounded breathless. “I can only imagine what…” Her gaze darted over Nate’s shoulder before she took a step toward him. “Can I… can I ask you a question?”
“Sure,” he said slowly. “Though I reserve the right not to answer if I can’t.”
“Yes. That’s… I understand. I… didn’t believe. Not like I should have. Not like he wanted me to. Not for a long time.”
“Not like who wanted you to? Peter?”
She nodded. “It was—you have to understand. The things he claimed. How fantastic they sounded. I mean, to hear it on the radio is one thing. But to hear it from someone in person. Someone who had experienced it… well. That was something else entirely.”
A warning bell went off in Nate’s head. “Is that how you met Peter?”
She brought her right thumb up to her mouth and started gnawing on the fingernail. “Yes. He said things. And I wanted to believe them, believe him. But it was hard. My daughter, she—she thought it was all a bunch of bull. She said I was acting crazy.” She laughed a little wildly. “I told her that we all had things we believed in.”
“You said something about grandkids yesterday. How you liked to cook for them.”
Her smile trembled. “Yes. Oh, yes. I did. And I was very good at it too. I made them pies. Apple and cherr
y. And meatloaf. The kind with ketchup in the middle. They liked that most of all. They always ate it up so fast.”
“You haven’t always been vegan, then, huh?”
“Oh goodness, no. That was only after we came here. To the farm. Peter says it’s better this way. That it makes the body healthier. Cleaner. We needed to be free from all the constraints of the lives we used to live.” She blanched. “Oh, listen to me prattle on. I must apologize. You don’t want to hear any of this. Peter always says I go on and on, and if no one is there to stop me, I might just talk myself to death.”
“It’s fine,” Nate said. “I’m probably the same way.”
She studied him rather frantically. “You are, aren’t you. The same. Peter says you are. That you believe.”
“Well, I mean. I’ve… seen things that wouldn’t let me not believe, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Miracles,” she whispered fervently. “You’ve seen the miracle that they are.”
Nate frowned. “I don’t know if I’d call them miracles, per se. But it’s—it’s been a very strange last few weeks.”
Her eyes were wet and wide. “Is she everything you thought she’d be?”
“I don’t—I never thought about her before I met her. I didn’t even know she existed until I saw her for the first time.” He huffed out a breath. “They told me at first that she’d been kidnapped and he was trying to take her back.”
Dolores nodded. “Yes. Yes. Back. Away. To let her return.” Her eyes darted to the bag slung over his shoulder. “Are you… Is everything all right?”
“What? It’s—oh, this? No, everything is fine. I just was hoping to use your laundry facilities. We’re running out of clean clothes, and I don’t know when we’ll get a chance to wash them again after we leave here.”
“I don’t understand,” she said. “After you leave?”
“When Art needs to move on,” Nate said. “We’ll need to take her where she needs to go.”
“Right,” Dolores said. “Of course. I guess I wasn’t… thinking.” She took another step toward him. “I can do the laundry for you. It’s one of my jobs here at the farm. I keep a tidy house.”
Nate forced a smile on his face. “No, that’s all right. You’ve done so much for us already. I can handle it. If you could just point me in the right direction, I’d appreciate it. Besides, it’s mostly Alex’s dirty clothes, and he really sweats through his boxers.”
“Oh my,” Dolores said. “He is awfully big. I can see that.”
“Yes, ma’am. So, the laundry?”
“Down the hall. Last door on the right. Detergent is on the shelf.”
He gave her one last tight smile and made his way out of the kitchen. He heard Steven Cooper as she turned the radio back up, telling everyone who was listening that it was going to be a bright and glorious future, my friends.
He paused for a moment at the stairs, looking up and wondering just how many rooms were up there. The house was big, but it wasn’t big enough that each person on the farm could have their own room. He wondered if they doubled up. Or if Peter had his own room.
Ahead, past the stairs, were four doors.
The first was a door on the left. It was open. Inside was a half bathroom with an open window. He could hear birds in the trees. The tile inside was a clinical white. There was a bar of soap sitting on a dish on the edge of the sink. It was immaculately clean.
Three more doors.
Another on the left, toward the end of the hall.
One on the right.
And a door at the very end.
It was this door that caught Nate’s eye. It wasn’t like the others.
The doors in the house, from what he’d seen, were wooden.
The door at the end of the hall was metal.
And there was a padlock on the front.
He heard a voice coming from the last door on the left. He couldn’t quite make out the words, but there were low dulcet tones. It could have been a TV. Or a radio.
He walked down the hall.
On either side of him, hanging on the walls, were framed photographs.
He didn’t understand what they were at first.
They were mostly black-and-white. Fuzzy and slightly out of focus. Some had numbers etched into the photo paper across the bottom, numbers too long to be dates. Almost like coordinates.
In each of them, buried in the blurry gray, were discolorations.
He could see clouds.
They were photographs of the sky.
And the objects that were in them.
Objects in the sky.
Lights. Shapes.
He’d seen things like them before. Of course he had. Everyone had. They were photographs published as proof of unidentified flying objects.
And there were at least a dozen of them on the walls.
That was… par for the course, now that he thought about it.
He wondered if Peter—Oren, that was—had wanted to be separated from Art when he had been. Or how aware he’d been during the two decades in the first place. Artemis had implied it had been a dreamlike state.
But Nate knew just how real dreams could feel.
The floorboards creaked under his feet.
The voice became clearer.
It was Peter.
Peter was speaking.
“…and there is the potential for it to be reborn. It happens. Time is a circle. We’ve been at this point before. Maybe not exactly as we are now. There could have been an entirely different civilization than we know to exist right now. It is a cleansing. And we find ourselves at the threshold.”
Nate took another step. The door was almost closed. He could barely see through a crack in the doorjamb. There were shelves of books. A telescope. The edges of a desk with a blue screen behind it. He thought he could make out the edges of an arm, as if Peter was sitting at the desk in front of the screen.
“Many may not believe my words,” Peter said. “I can’t force that belief. You and I are different people. I have… seen things. Things that seem to defy imagination. It’s not fair for me to think you could understand when you haven’t been enlightened as I have. There are times when even I seem to lose my patience, where I wish I could take you by the shoulders and shake you until you open your eyes to see what is right in front of you. It’s not… We are more than what the world has made us out to be. There is more beyond the stars. More than you could ever imagine. And when I speak of this wondrous change, I do so only because there are those that can save us from ourselves. Those that show us that there is more. That is the purpose of the Light of Eve and—”
Peter fell silent.
Nate took a step back.
He heard what sounded like a chair moving from a desk, as if someone was standing.
He whirled around, glancing one last time at the metal door before he reached for the doorknob leading toward the laundry room. He was inside the laundry room and fumbling with the switch when the door to the office swung open behind him.
“Nate?”
He glanced over his shoulder, feigning surprise. “Hey, Peter. How are you?”
Peter eyed him curiously. “I’m fine. What are you doing?”
He nodded toward the duffel bag. “Laundry, if that’s okay. I asked Dolores, and she pointed me in the right direction.”
Peter crossed his arms over his chest. “That’s… fine, of course. While you stay with us, anything I have is yours.”
“That’s very generous of you. We really appreciate it. I know Art does.”
“Yes,” Peter said, voice filled with disdain. “Art. Shortened, because a nickname is always necessary in this day and age.”
“It’s what she likes to be called.”
“So I gather. She’s… adapted. More than I expected her to. In ten years, she’s become more human than she ever was with me.”
“That—it was different, though, wasn’t it
?”
Peter cocked his head. “How so?”
“She was…” Nate fumbled for the right word. “Sharing. With you.”
“Sharing,” Peter repeated slowly.
“You were there. With her.”
“I was.”
“She’s alone now.”
“I don’t know if that’s true,” Peter said. “She has the Marine.” His gaze crawled down Nate before it went back up again. “She has you.”
“I meant inside. She’s… The girl was already gone. Before.”
“Her consciousness had left.”
“Yes.”
Peter nodded. “The body is not the be-all, end-all, Nate. Do you know that?”
“It seems pretty important to me.”
“It would, I’m sure. But it’s merely a husk. The soul is what makes us human. Your flesh doesn’t do that.”
“I don’t know if I believe in souls,” Nate said honestly, unsure where this conversation was headed. He didn’t like the way Peter was looking at him.
“What do you believe in?”
He shrugged. “I don’t… know?”
“A higher power? A belief in something more?”
“Seems like if there was, we get the shit end of that deal.”
Peter’s brow furrowed. “How so?”
“We suffer. We suffer all the time.”
“Through pain we’re taught the lessons the soul must learn to achieve the highest state of consciousness.”
“I’m just worried about surviving, if I’m being honest.”
“Surviving what?”
Nate snorted. “I’ve been shot at more in the last few weeks than I ever have before in my life. I mean, the guy that turned on my water turned out to be an agent with a part of the government I’m not supposed to know about.”
“Enforcers.”
“Yeah. That’s the one. He was nosy, but I mean I thought that was just small-town living. How the hell was I supposed to know he was already watching us?”
Peter was barely blinking. It was unnerving. “You’re very odd.”