by Sean Platt
“OK, you can stop blowing smoke up my dirthole, because I wasn’t doing anyone no favors by killin’ folks. That was all about me. No need to shine shit and tell me it’s gold.”
“Perhaps, but still you know what I say is true. We can change humanity, once and for all, evolve it into what it was meant to be.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Boricio asked, eager to bitch slap the foreplay and get back to killing this fucking thing.
“All species evolve. Humans evolved. We, our species, are evolving. We can evolve together, create something new from the best of our species.”
“I saw what your species did on ole Bizarro Earth, so forgive me if that don’t exactly sound like a roomful of titties.”
“We have changed. Though I should warn you that there is another force out there, trying to do what we did to that other world.”
“What do you mean ‘another force?’”
“Our species is a collective, operating as one. But we’ve since split, parts of us wanting to seize power for itself, disagreeing with our notions of how to evolve your species. They want to enslave most of you, use you as nothing more than fuel.”
“Let me get this straight, E.T. — you’re claiming to be this great, advanced alien species working as a collective and wanting to evolve us. Yet your own fucking species is subject to the same whims as ours, wanting to gobble more than its share of the pie?”
“I never said we were perfect. But together we can be as close as possible. We can offer you power, Boricio. We can cure your kind’s diseases. We can allow you to live forever. Just say yes.”
He looked at the shotgun, again trained on him.
“So join the Dark Side or die, right, Darth?”
He met Its eyes, but Not Rose refused to flinch.
It nodded.
Boricio clenched his fists, glared It in the eyes, and said, “I got an idea. How ‘bout we play of game of rock, paper, you’re dead. You first!”
Sixty-Nine
Thomas Acevedo
“You’re really going to do this?” Marina asked, pestering him as if he had chosen his path, or worse, was deluded.
“The vessel has to die. There is no other way.” Acevedo continued loading up on weapons from the agents’ van. He had an assault rifle, a pistol, and four of the weird-looking grenades, which he hoped were explosive. Once Acevedo ended the vessel, he’d have to burn the alien before it could leave the host and infect another. There were two more in there with the vessel, Acevedo had seen in his vision. One, a woman named Rose, who was strong and maybe the smartest of the aliens. Then there was an old man, Art, who was still new to infection and had not yet worked out his abilities. He would be the easiest to kill, and Rose the toughest. Luca was probably the most powerful, even if he didn’t yet know it. But if Acevedo only had a single shot, he’d have to take out the boy. He was the one in the dreams, after all.
It all revolved around Luca.
Without Luca, the prophecy failed, and the world would be safe. At least, that’s what his visions kept swearing.
Yeah, but what if the visions aren’t real? What if he is just a boy?
Acevedo shook his head to silence the doubt he couldn’t afford. That was why Marina couldn’t come with him. Sure, he could use the backup, but couldn’t afford to have her doubts as infection.
He had to stay strong and keep his mind clear of the alien influence.
Marina, still cuffed to the back seat, begged, “At least set me free before you go. If something happens to you, I’m screwed.”
“I don’t have anything to set you free.”
“Use that mind thing you did on yours.”
“Sorry, Marina. I don’t have time. But don’t worry, I will return.”
“But what if you don’t come back? I’ll be stuck here with no way to get help. If one of our enemies doesn’t kill me, the sun will bake me once it gets hotter.”
Acevedo crawled into the back, close enough to assure her, but not so close that she might be able to strike out in anger. “Listen, Marina. I promise I’ll be back. And if not, well, you’ll have bigger things to worry about than a hot van.”
“Please,” she cried out as Acevedo slid open the side panel door and hopped out into dawn.
He looked back at Marina and shushed her with a finger to his lips. “I’ll be back in twenty minutes or less.”
The priest softly closed the door, despite her begging.
He looked down the street where Luca and the others were staying, assuming his visions were true.
A low fog clung to the ground, obscuring all but the closest two houses, giving him an advantage upon entry. Of course, if they sensed him and were dreaming of him as he had been of them, the advantage was theirs. Marina would die in the van.
But Acevedo couldn’t worry about her now.
He had to find and kill Luca Harding.
Seventy
Luca Harding
Luca stared at himself in the mirror, mouth agape, barely able to believe the changes.
It looked like he’d aged nearly a decade.
And yet Luca felt only partly surprised. because some of the other Luca’s memories, as well as memories of the people the other Luca had saved, were swirling through his head more frequently. They weren’t solid enough that he could make sense of them and assemble a narrative of everything that happened to each of the survivors, but he saw the other Luca age in the memories, both from the boy’s viewpoint as well as others’. He also saw the other Luca die, shot by his friend, Will, and then return. The other version of himself had continued to age until he seemed ancient.
Is this what’s going to happen to me? Will I get older each time I do this?
Possibly, The Darkness said inside him, not exactly a comfort. “But perhaps we can change that. I am working on a way to halt the aging within your body’s chemistry. Perhaps I can return your youth.”
No. I don’t want to be young any more. I need to be older, bigger, stronger. I need to be ready for what’s coming.
Art stood beside him in the bathroom, unable to stop staring either. He seemed caught somewhere between awe at the change and disappointment in what he’d done.
Luca wondered if Art was onto him — if he knew of his betrayal. And if so, would he try to kill him?
“Why did you heal him, kid?”
Luca didn’t shrink from the old man’s stare.
“Because it wasn’t right.”
“What wasn’t right?”
“To lie to him like that. To use his love for Rose to trick him into joining us. I know you wanted to either infect him or kill him.”
Art’s fuzzy eyebrows rose. “And how do you know that?”
“Because I’m not as dumb as people think. I pay attention.”
“Hey, kid, I never said you were dumb. Far from it. And I’ll agree that yes, I didn’t want to give Boricio a vial, but that’s because I’m concerned for our safety.”
Luca was about to call Art on all of his lies. To let the old man know he wasn’t fooling him.
But Luca’s Darkness said to keep his mouth shut. “Sometimes it’s better to play a bit dumber than you are if you want people to make mistakes.”
Luca decided to play along with Art, even if playing nice to a liar made him sick to his stomach. “I understand, Mr. Art. You were looking out for us. And I’m sorry to go behind your back like I did. But Boricio is like a brother to me. Or at least the other version of him was. He is capable of goodness. I’ve seen it.”
Art looked at Luca as if gears were turning in his head, trying to decide how to best deal with the boy. Luca considered using The Darkness to spy on Art’s thoughts, then reconsidered. Though he couldn’t be certain, Luca was pretty sure if he tried to read Art’s mind while looking at the man, he would figure Luca out. Art would know he’d been made, and at that point would have nothing to lose by killing the boy, or all of them.
Art smiled and put a hand on Luca’s should
er. “Why don’t we see if we can find you some clothes that’ll fit, eh?”
“Thank you,” Luca said.
Art led him down the hall to one of the guest rooms he’d not yet been in. The room was smaller than the others, filled with racks like you’d see in a store, with clothes hanging in neat rows.
“What’s all this?”
“Rose asked me to gather clothes. Different sizes and sexes to fit our growing group, since some of the people, like myself, may not have had time to pack their bags before leaving their old lives.”
“Wow, she really thought ahead.” Luca looked at the variety and sizes.
Art pulled out a black hoodie and some dark-blue jeans. Both looked like they belonged to a college kid.
“Wanna try these on?” Art asked holding them up.
They looked too large and baggy, but it was better than a shirt that made him look like the Incredible Hulk without the big green muscles.
“OK.”
Art handed him the clothes and a belt. “You might need this.”
“What about shoes? Did you get shoes?”
Art sighed. “That’s one thing I didn’t have time to pick up yet. Plus, we figured the people would probably have shoes. We do have underwear, though. Check the dresser, and you’ll probably find a pack. I’d say you look like a men’s small, maybe medium? There are some socks in there, too, that should fit you.”
“Thanks,” Luca repeated.
He looked down at his feet, still bare from when he was sleeping. They were larger and had a few tufts of dark hair, mostly on the toes.
Art left the room so that Luca could change.
He stripped from his shredded apparel and couldn’t help but notice that among the areas to grow — both size and hair — was downstairs. Luca felt a flush of embarrassment, like he was looking at someone else naked, and quickly put on a pair of well-fitting red boxers.
He slid on the jeans, which were too baggy and longer than his size, then slid on a belt. He slipped the notch through the last hole, which pulled the belt as tight as it would go. It wasn’t a perfect fit, but would do for the moment. Luca rolled up his pant legs, making light-blue cuffs that reminded him of how his dad had dressed for a Halloween party when he said he was going as some guy from the '50s that Luca had never heard of.
Luca wondered which father that was, his or the other Luca’s. He couldn’t place the memory in time, so he couldn’t be certain if it was before or after the car accident that took his family from him.
He slid on the black hoodie, also baggy, just like most older kids seemed to wear them. Luca didn’t feel too stupid as he stared in the mirror at the late-teen, early-twenties version of himself.
Luca lifted the jacket to see his abs, admiring his physique. He wasn’t built, but there was definitely more muscle than he remembered having in his younger self. He wondered how strong he could get if he started lifting weights, and how long it would take to get into good fighting shape.
The past few weeks had shown him that he no longer had time for a childhood. He had to prepare for what was coming by getting as smart and strong as possible. While Luca supposed some might lament the loss of a decade, those people weren’t children, and didn’t know how badly most kids wanted to be adults. And those people didn’t know that a war unlike any other was already on its way.
It was time to put his childhood in the closet where it belonged, and Luca was fine with that.
Suddenly, a gunshot thundered downstairs.
Seventy-One
Edward Keenan
Ed followed the tracker to his van parked on a suburban street in Highland Park.
He killed the stolen motorcycle’s engine and pulled the Mossberg from his back, where he’d slid the shotgun between his shirt and jacket like a makeshift scabbard.
Fog was hanging too low and thick to spot the van. But Ed could see it blipping on his Guardsman watch’s interface as he approached, gun drawn.
His heart raced as he moved closer, hoping that whoever was inside, whoever had taken the van, wasn’t also lying in wait to attack him. He needed to take care of whoever took the van, secure the vials, and make sure that Acevedo and Marina were safe.
But the closer he got to the van and saw its dark shape taking form in the fog, he grew ever more certain that he was about to discover a bloodbath. He’d find Acevedo and Marina slaughtered, and the perpetrator gone. Ed hoped that whoever took the van didn’t know about the vials, and they were still safely hidden in the glove compartment. If not, then he’d need to figure out another way to find the vials. Maybe call back to Black Island and see if Paola could help.
Ed was about ten feet from the van when he saw through the broken windshield that no one was in the front seats.
OK, let’s check the back.
He stepped softly in front of the van, shotgun drawn, and peered through to the rear.
He could see a figure in the back seat, cloaked in shadows.
He tapped the gun on the van’s hood and said, “Come out with your hands up!”
Silence.
His heart beat faster as he circled to try and get a better look.
“This is Homeland Security. Step out of the van with your hands up!”
A woman’s voice: “Agent Keenan?”
“Marina?” he asked, surprised.
“Yeah, I’m still cuffed to the back seat! Can you let me out?”
Ed couldn’t believe she was still alive.
He tried the driver’s side door and found it locked, then used his shotgun’s butt to break the driver’s side window, then reached in and unlocked the door.
He slid into the van, flicked on the rear light, and was further surprised to find Marina alone.
“Where’s the preacher?”
“He took off when the shit hit the fan. I’m so sorry. I asked him not to leave you and Luther, but he wouldn’t listen. He’s obsessed with getting the other four vials.”
“Other four?”
“He said he had a vision, and that some woman had the other four and was using them to build an army led by some kid. He’s down the street now, intending to kill the kid so he can prevent whatever it is he dreamed about.”
“A kid? Did he tell you a name?”
“Luca,” she said. “Do you know him?”
Ed sighed. This was getting deeper than he wanted. “I need you to show me which house.”
“I don’t know.” Marina shook her head. “He didn’t tell me.”
Ed checked the ignition, hoping that Acevedo had left the keys in it so he could turn on the van and check the GPS. No such luck.
Ed grabbed the phone from his pocket and dialed the local Homeland Security headquarters, hoping that someone would be able to pull the GPS’s most recent coordinates.
As Ed waited for his routing to the special agent in charge, he reached into his pocket, grabbed the handcuff keys, and released Marina.
“I’m going to set you free. I want you to wait behind this house here until I return. If I don’t come back, get the hell out of here and don’t look back.”
Ed grabbed an AR-15 from a hidden compartment in the van floor, along with a couple of incendiary grenades. He loaded up on ammo, shoved his shotgun into the storage space, and hopped out of the van.
Agent Harrison finally answered.
“I need your help,” Ed said. “I need you to get a lockdown team here ASAP. And paramedics.”
Seventy-Two
Boricio Wolfe
Boricio leaped at the alien, betting It wouldn’t fire the shotgun.
His risky gamble paid off. Boricio dropped, feet sliding forward, hands grabbing the gun as his feet met Rose’s and knocked her forward.
She toppled on top of him, and the shotgun.
Their faces were inches apart. Something stopped Boricio cold. He wasn’t sure if it was the look in her eyes, her familiar scent, or her lips (which he felt suddenly desperate to kiss), but something stripped his urge to kill quicker tha
n a bucket of water dousing a fire.
“Boricio,” she said, “please. It doesn’t have to be this way.”
Maybe she was right. Maybe it didn’t.
Boricio suddenly wondered if he could kill her. Even though he’d nearly choked her to death just moments ago, he couldn’t help but feel sickened by such a sour thought. Perhaps he could figure something else out. He wasn’t sure what, but something to buy time until he could get the alien out of her body and into someone else’s.
Then it hit him, a new thought that should’ve been old by now. Boricio looked into her eyes. “Leave her alone. Jump into my body.”
It stared at him.
Rose’s voice cracked, “No, Boricio … don’t.”
“Leave her alone, and my body’s yours. We can talk about this whole evolution thing then. It’s either that or I kill you both right here and now.”
“Are you sure?” It asked.
Tears welled in Rose’s eyes, as if the human still inside her was devastated that Boricio would sacrifice his body for hers. In that moment, he realized that the alien was telling the truth. And if Rose was still in there, that meant he would still be in his own body, too. No alien stood a Pluto-as-a-planet’s chance of evicting Boricio from his own body for good. He would find a way to kick that fucker out. But for now, this was his only chance to save Rose.
“Yes!” Boricio opened his mouth wide, “take me.”
Dark swirling tendrils began to peek out of Rose’s parted mouth.
One, two, then many, like tiny snakes slithering out past her tongue, checking to see if the coast was clear.
Every fiber of his being screamed inside.
Are you fucking crazy?!
What the fuck are you doing, Boricio?!
He ignored them all, keeping his eyes locked onto Rose’s. “I love you,” he said.