by Sean Shake
“Then blackness, as the pain overwhelmed me.
“And then I remember someone stitching me up, I guess that was your friend, and then noise, loud noise, and them. The invaders. The demons.”
“I’m sorry,” was all I said.
She shook her head. “What’s done is done. We’re here now. Although, I don’t know that I’ll ever see my family again. I don’t know if they’re…” But she couldn’t go on.
I hugged her to me, and held her like that for several minutes, feeling her tears soak into my robe.
She may have looked like a monster, but she was just a damaged girl who’d lost her parents and friends, and now was all alone in the world.
33
“Come on,” I said, flipping on the light to the cabin below.
Then I froze when I saw Abigail laying naked on top of the covers.
She stretched, in a way that made me think she knew exactly what she was doing, and then opened her eyes, looking at me. “Oh, hey there. We in Canada?”
“We’ve been in Canada for a while now. Since before you went to sleep. But we’re almost at shore now. I’ve stopped us so you can do the docking.”
She sat up, making no effort to cover herself.
I was acutely aware that I wasn’t wearing anything under my robe, and how easily I could take it off, how easily our bodies could be tangled together in just a few short seconds.
But we had work to do.
Besides, I didn’t know how Emma would take it. And though I wasn’t the relationship kind of guy, I felt different about Emma. I wouldn’t want to hurt her.
That was thinking with my heart, or maybe my head, but that wasn’t always the thing men used to think with, and it was getting hard to continue thinking that way and not be taken over by lust as I gazed at Abigail’s nude form.
She crawled off the bed, and stood in front of me, looking up, a faint smile on her lips.
“Are you just gonna stand there admiring my body all day?” she asked.
“Unfortunately, we don’t have the time.”
She smiled fully, then pointed past me. “Then hand me my clothes so I can get dressed.”
I did, then left her to wake Emma.
Thankfully, she was dressed, as I wasn’t sure I could resist her if she hadn’t been.
“We’re there?” she asked groggily.
I nodded. “Just about.”
“Good,” she said, stretching, much like her roommate had done. Just with clothes.
As she was scooting off the bed, a scream came from the saloon up top.
Emma jolted off the bed so fast that I was once again startled.
“Crap,” I said. I’d forgotten to tell Abigail that Hunter was awake.
We ran up to the saloon and found Abigail staring at Hunter.
Abigail looked at me. “You could have warned me.”
“Sorry, I forgot. You distracted me.”
Abigail grunted.
“How are you?” Emma asked. “I’m Emma by the way. This is Abigail.”
Hunter nodded. “Gage told me. Thank you for saving me.”
Emma smiled.
“We have some clothes for you,” Abigail said, pointing to the settee where the clothes we’d covered her with were, the ones she’d pushed off herself earlier.
Hunter glanced at them, then shook her head. “I’m fine. I’m really warm already. Actually have been going out on deck to cool off.”
Abigail looked at the girl, in just bra and panties. “Like that? You’re not even wearing shoes.” Then her eyes widened. “Your legs!”
“Yeah,” Hunter said. “They’re fine. I remember them breaking, but they’re fine now.”
Abigail shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
“Get us docked,” I said to Abigail. “We’re sitting ducks out here. Some of those things can fly, remember.”
She nodded slowly, moving like a sloth, tearing her gaze away from Hunter, and then going to the helm to dock the ship.
34
“Are you sure?” Abigail asked uncertainly.
Hunter nodded.
We were standing on the dock of some house which was not Abigail’s grandparents’, but which was close to theirs.
Emma and I had changed from our robes back into our clothes—me into my ninja suit, and Emma into her nurse’s uniform.
Hunter was still in her underwear, barefoot in the cold weather.
This state of dress—undress—was what Abigail was referring to with her question. “There’s clothes back in the boat you could put on. Or a robe.”
Hunter shook her head. “I feel like I can breathe again. It was so warm and stuffy in there. I almost want to take these off.” She pulled on her bra strap with one hand, and the waistband of her underwear with the other, letting them snap back against her.
“Let’s just keep those on,” Abigail said. “I’m sure they’re not retaining much heat.”
I scanned the area, looking for signs of life or trouble. Everything was dark though.
It was unsettling because the power wasn’t out—there were streetlights on.
Had everyone simply evacuated like they were told to and then turned all their lights off?
I didn’t know, but that wouldn’t make sense. Even for Canadians, who I thought of as generally much more orderly than Americans.
Besides, it was like this back over the border in America as well. “You said they’re just a few blocks from here?” I asked Abigail.
She nodded. She was wearing a backpack, which she had stuffed full of snacks from the boat. Though, I was still full from the meal she’d made us.
The backpack had come from the boat as well. It was one of those CamelBaks, and she had dumped two water bottles into the pouch, filling it.
I clapped my hands together. “Right then, let’s move out. We don’t want to waste time. Abigail, you lead the way.”
“Of course, have the redhead out in front. So I can get killed. I’m not the youngest anymore, she should be the one out front. She even looks like a girl from a horror movie, running around in her underwear, horns sticking out of her head, her ridiculously large boobs bouncing about.”
“Abigail,” Emma scolded.
“Sorry,” Abigail said, looking at Hunter.
“It’s fine. My parents joked with me all the time. Not about my boobs, mind you. That would be weird. Well my mom sometimes made subtle jokes about them, like, ‘Oh, Hunter won’t fit in there.’ My dad and brother never said anything about them. My brother’s friends, on the other hand, made nonstop jokes. Then they got a little older, and they stopped making jokes at my expense, and started making them to try to get my attention. It felt good to ignore them.”
“I bet,” Abigail agreed.
“Come on girls,” I said. “We really need to get moving. It’s not a good idea to stay in one place. Especially after we’ve made a bunch of noise docking this massive yacht.”
“It’s only seventy-two feet,” Abigail said. “That’s not really that large.”
I pointed ahead of us. “Go.”
She flipped me off, but led the way.
We walked off the dock and into the house’s backyard, then through the yard to the street.
The area was silent, though I kept listening for that slapping sound from the reptilian foot of the eyeless guard.
It didn’t make any sense that he’d be all the way over here, that he could have beaten us here, gone through Ohio and into Michigan and then crossed the border into Canada and made it down to where we were.
But neither did getting invaded by aliens.
Besides, maybe he’d driven a car. Why not? He’d managed to track me down to that Walmart. And boats didn’t go as fast as cars—though that yacht had gone at a steady clip, averaging around twenty-one knots. Which was quite fast for a boat, about twenty-four miles an hour, but still slower than a car would go.
Especially with the roads empty like they were.
It was o
dd that all the roads I’d been on so far since this started were nearly deserted. I’d expected them to be clogged with cars that people had gotten out of in a panicked rush.
Then again, nothing else was as I might’ve expected it to be.
Houses were empty, streets were empty—including the one we walked on now, though this was a neighborhood street, in what looked like a sleepy suburb of Canada.
Still, I listened, waiting, expecting the eyeless guard to come walking out of every house we passed, make his implacable way toward me, solid in the certainty that he would catch me, and that he would end me.
I made a fist and felt the blade form, felt comforted by it, but also felt inferior, insecure, incompetent.
I felt that I needed to get stronger, but I didn’t know how.
My thoughts were interrupted as Abigail whispered, “We’re here.”
I looked around, and only now realized we’d been walking for over ten minutes.
The house we were stopped in front of was dark, just like all the others.
But that didn’t mean anything. If they didn’t want to draw attention, they would make it look like all the others.
“There’s something wrong,” Hunter said quietly.
We all looked at her.
“What is it?” I asked. I wouldn’t normally put much weight in a teenage girl’s premonition, however she did have horns growing out of her head, and she was walking on legs that should be, by all rights, completely shattered right now.
She shook her head vaguely. “I don’t know. There’s just something off. I’m not sure if it’s here exactly, or just near here. Or will be here soon.” She looked around nervously. “We should hurry. Before it’s too late.”
35
We went around back and peered in the sliding glass door of the house.
There were no curtains covering it, and there was just enough light from the street lights one street over to see into the dark house, see that it was empty.
“Maybe they’re somewhere else in the house,” I said.
“Maybe,” Abigail said, but she didn’t sound hopeful.
“Is there a basement?” Hunter asked.
Abigail brightened. “Of course. Come on.” She led us to two doors in the ground, and tried to pull them open.
They were locked.
She let out a little squeal of excitement. “It’s locked from the inside,” she whispered.
Then she got down on her knees and knocked on one of the doors, put her mouth to the crack between them. “Grandpa? Grandma? It’s me, Abigail. You in there?”
There was a slight noise from inside, quiet, but enough to be certain it was there.
Abigail was buzzing with excitement. “They’re here!” she said in a high-pitched whisper.
“Abby?” an old man’s voice said.
“It’s me Gramps. I’m with Emma.”
I looked to the bushes nearby, lining the backyard, feeling uncomfortable, as though something was lurking there, waiting behind them, ready to strike, ready to pull any unfortunate soul who got close enough into some dark, lost place, and never let them go.
The leaves were like tendrils, reaching out to grab, and—
The cellar door opened, drawing my attention, and a man holding a shotgun materialized. When he saw me, he trained the gun on me, his eyes flicking over to Hunter, then to Emma, then Abigail.
“He’s okay,” Abigail told him. “He saved us from those things. He’s a prison guard. He works with Emma.”
The old man looked at me, the shotgun lowering slightly. “Is that right?”
I nodded. “Yes sir.” I didn’t know why Abigail was lying, but I went along with it.
Actually, I could guess why. She didn’t want to tell him I was a felon. It might make him a bit itchy with that shotgun.
“Well come on in then, get out of the cold.” He looked at Hunter. “Don’t you have anything to cover yourself with, hun?”
She shook her head. “Oh no, it’s okay. I run warm.”
His brows furrowed and he opened his mouth to say something, but then a woman’s voice called from below. “Gabriel, what’s going on? Is she okay?”
My heart skittered. Gabriel.
Just a coincidence, that was all.
Yeah, like aliens invading and my cellmate giving me a stone which I felt an irrational urge to swallow and which then allowed me to fight them, to hurt them.
We followed the man with the same name as my old cellmate down the stairs into the basement, where an older woman in jeans and a heavy jacket was waiting for us.
It was rather warm down here, so I thought the jacket seemed unnecessary.
“Grandma!” Abigail exclaimed, running to her grandmother and hugging her tightly as tears of joy ran down the older woman’s cheeks. “I’m so glad you’re okay! We were so worried about you.”
They broke apart and held each other at arm’s length.
Her grandmother reached up and wiped the tears from Abigail’s cheeks.
“Mom and Dad?” Abigail asked, looking around the basement.
It was a single large room, with shelves of canned goods and other supplies, as well as a few bunks. But unless her parents were for some reason hiding behind one of the shelves or under the bunks, they weren’t here.
Her grandmother shook her head sadly. “They left.”
“Went looking for you,” Gabriel added.
“Oh no,” Abigail said.
“Don’t you worry about your parents,” Gabriel said. “They can take care of themselves. They’ll be just fine.” But to me, it sounded as though he was trying to reassure himself, as much as his granddaughter.
Her grandmother spotted Hunter. “Oh no honey, are you okay? Let me get you some clothes.”
“I’m fine,” she said. “I run warm.” That was going to get old for her, having to explain to people she didn’t need more clothes.
Now that we were down in the basement and it was brighter, what Hunter was was more apparent, and Gabriel studied her. “You… you don’t look so good. What happened to your head?”
Hunter put a hand to one of her horns.
I noticed they were darkening, going from bone white to now something more grayish. I wondered if they would turn black completely.
Gabriel stepped closer to Hunter, examining her.
She held her ground, but looked increasingly uncomfortable.
“Are you…” Gabriel trailed off.
Now Abigail’s grandmother was beside him, studying Hunter as well.
“She’s fine, you don’t need to worry about her,” I said, before they could start worrying.
They both looked at me.
“Are you a doctor as well as a prison guard?” Gabriel asked.
“No,” Emma answered. “But I’m a nurse. And I agree, she’s fine.”
Abigail’s grandmother pointed to Hunter’s forehead. “She doesn’t look fine. Not with those things. They look like—”
“Don’t worry Grandma, you can trust her.” Abigail went to her grandparents and squeezed between them, putting an arm around her grandmother’s shoulder and one around her grandfather’s waist, leaning her head against his shoulder. “We’re safe now. Safe and together.”
36
But we weren’t safe, of course. We could never be safe, not anymore.
This world that had always been full of danger and intrigue, was now even more so. Now there were aliens in the sky, and monsters on the ground. And who knew what else.
And they were after us. Humans.
We talked about this and other things: Theories on why the aliens were doing what they were doing, where they’d come from, when they’d leave. If they’d leave.
As we talked, I found myself drawn to Hunter, and I kept looking over at her. She was barely-clothed, yes, but that wasn’t what drew my eyes to her.
I felt something for her. A growing connection that I couldn’t put into words.
The conversation moved to Abigail’
s parents—where they’d gone, what to do about finding them—and I again wondered where Emma’s family was.
Wondered if she had any at all.
After a while, Gabriel and Mary—Abigail’s grandmother—practically forced the girls to try to get some sleep.
The women retired to the bunk beds at the back of the basement while Gabriel and I moved to the stairs to stand guard.
“Sure you’re not tired?” Gabriel asked. “Probably had a long shift.”
“No, I’m fine. I’m not tired.”
“Suit yourself.”
We were seated at the bottom of the stairs, each of us in a folding chair, staring at the cellar door.
After a few minutes of this, Gabriel spoke again. “So how long have you known Emma and Abigail?”
“Despite being in the same prison for two years, Emma and I hadn’t run into each other until a few days ago. First time I’d been down to the infirmary where she works.” True enough. “I didn’t meet Abigail until tonight—last night, technically—when we rescued her from their apartment.”
Gabriel nodded at this, apparently satisfied.
I was glad I hadn’t slept with his granddaughter.
Yet.
“So you’ve seen those things? First hand?” Gabriel asked, still staring at the door.
I nodded silently.
“We haven’t seen em out here yet. Jack—that’s our son, Abigail’s dad—they hadn’t seen them either. Some people were saying they can’t be killed.”
“They can be killed.”
From the corner of my eye, I caught him looking over at me, and I got the impression he was looking down at my hands.
I’d seen him looking at them earlier, but he hadn’t said anything. I supposed if he could take a demon girl in underwear, horns growing out of her head, he could take a guy with black hands.
“You’ve seen it happen? Or just heard of it?”