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Captive by the Fog

Laura Hardgrave

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An imprint of

Musa Publishing

Copyright Information

Captive by the Fog, Copyright © Laura Hardgrave, 2012

All Rights Reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the publisher.

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This e-Book is a work of fiction. While references may be made to actual places or events, the names, characters, incidents, and locations within are from the author’s imagination and are not a resemblance to actual living or dead persons, businesses, or events. Any similarity is coincidental.

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Musa Publishing

633 Edgewood Ave

Lancaster, OH 43130

www.musapublishing.com

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Published by Musa Publishing, October 2012

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This e-Book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines and/or imprisonment. No part of this ebook can be reproduced or sold by any person or business without the express permission of the publisher.

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ISBN: 978-1-61937-410-2

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Editor: Megan Embry

Cover Design: Kelly Shorten

Interior Book Design: Coreen Montagna

Content Warning

This book contains adult language and scenes. This story is meant only for adults as defined by the laws of the country where you made your purchase. Store your books carefully where they cannot be accessed by younger readers.

Dedication

Dedicated to Lizette Hardgrave (1952 – 2007)

Dear Mom,

Thank you for the library of picture books, colored pencils, love, and endless support. And for showing me that beauty does not always need to be seen with eyesight.

Love always,

Jellybean

Chapter 1

The chickens twirled around and around on their metal skewers, and I scowled at them from across the restaurant kitchen. My shift was supposed to be over, yet here I was in my pink “Crazy Cluckers” polo shirt and apron, waiting for the night shift to show up. My apron was silly, and my hat was even sillier. It was of course, a chicken-shaped hat, bright yellow plastic beak and all. I wanted to cram the beak into my co-worker’s face. Matt was probably busy sucking his girlfriend’s face instead of getting his ass to work.

The bell on the front door jangled, and I turned to yell at Matt, but it wasn’t him. I frowned intensely at the elderly couple who entered and shuffled up to the counter. They gave me a strange look in return and gazed back at the door, perhaps wondering if they were better off leaving.

I tossed them a tired smile. “How can I help you?”

Just then Matt stormed inside, causing the stupid bell on the door to really jangle. The couple looked back and forth between him and me, probably wondering if he was going to rob the place. Matt swaggered toward me, obviously drunk, and laughed. “Sorry!” he said, his face bright red. “I…uh, got stuck in traffic.” He hiccuped.

“Right,” I said in a flat voice, crossing my arms in front of my chest. “And I’m the queen of Scotland.”

He waved his arms out wide. “And my, what a lovely one! You sure you’re not a king though? You’re kinda gruff ’n’ stuff.”

“Honey,” the woman said, tugging her husband’s sleeve, “we’re in the presence of royalty!” Her eyes shone bright through the glaze of Alzheimer’s.

Matt broke out in a series of guffaws that made him appear as though he wasn’t quite right in the head either. “C’mon Sam, you know you love me, even though you’re a dyke!” he said, holding his stomach in laughter. He hiccuped again and leaned over the counter. The distinct scent of his girlfriend’s awful perfume hit my nostrils.

As I glared at Matt, the elderly woman turned to me and grabbed my hand over the countertop. I almost jumped back in surprise as her glimmering eyes met mine. “The fog has come,” she said, her voice low. A large frown cloaked her face, the wrinkles around her mouth burrowing deeper into her skin.

Her husband pulled her away from the countertop. “I’m sorry. She’s not well.”

“She’s fucking brilliant!” Matt said with another hiccup. “It is foggy out there!” His voice dissolved into obnoxious laughter.

The old woman stepped forward again, attempting to fight off her husband’s grasp. “No,” she insisted. “The fog. It comes.” Her gaze looked through me rather than at me.

I groaned at all three of them. I’d heard enough crazy talk for one evening. I took off my chicken hat and threw it onto the counter. “Buy a chicken meal deal for your fog friend, have a free hat! I’m outta here.” The gate slammed behind me as I stomped past the counter. I took off my apron and tossed it on a nearby table then stormed out the door without looking back.

The Frisco night air welcomed me with open arms, and I gulped in it, thankful for its chilliness. I wiped my brow after I marched around the corner, ducking out of sight from my workplace. Crazy fucking Matt, I thought, shaking my head in disbelief. Who does he think he is?

I continued storming down the street toward the bus stop. I’d already missed my usual bus. It would be another twenty minutes for the next one, but that didn’t matter. I was happy to be out of that grease joint and away from Matt and that creepy lady. When I reached the bus stop, I plopped down on the bench, brought my legs up, and sat cross-legged. I always sat like this, and I wasn’t sure why. It had to make me look about twelve years old.

The fog rippled through the night air as it headed toward San Francisco Bay. I sat near the top of a hill, with the bay area and its fog bank looming below me. It was hard to see much besides the fog and the random lights trying to shine through it desperately, calling for attention. The fog brushed against my skin, sending goose bumps up my arm.

I ran a hand through my short, messy brown hair and sighed, willing the fog to wash off the chicken grease that coated me. Matt was an idiot, but I wasn’t sure why his drunken commentary bothered me so much. I was definitely gay and pretty soft butch at that, but it didn’t give Matt the right to treat me like a goddamn freak show. Not everyone knew I was gay. I didn’t enjoy flaunting it, but at the same time, it didn’t deserve to be hidden.

I’d hidden it from my father, Bruce, until I was twenty-four, even though all of my other family and friends knew before I was eighteen. When I finally told him four years ago, he’d taken it about as well as I had expected.

“I didn’t raise you like that!” he screamed. I was driving us to one of his doctor’s appointments. We were always at the doctor’s back then. Chemo sucked.

“What?” I shot back. “It wasn’t part of my raising or development! It’s just who I am!” I didn’t raise my voice to him often, except when he deserved it. He deserved it this time.

He gave me a stern look. His jaw shook. Ever since his stroke, back when I was in high school, his left side had had a slight tremor to it, best visible in his jaw and neck. Whenever I was pissed off at him, the tremors stuck out to me and pissed me off even more.

He didn’t say anything more to me for the rest of the day. Every now and then he’d give me this distraught look, his blue eyes and wrinkly cheeks drooping, like he was profoundly disappointed in me.

“Did your mother know?” he asked me finally, on the way home. The sun was setting behind his pickup truck as we traveled along the I-5. Crimson and peach-colored hues blazed from the rearview mirror.

“Yes,” I said, “I told her a couple of years before she passed away. She was surprised, but in the end she just wanted me to be happy.” I cringed, wondering if he’d be disappointed in me for not telling him after her death, which was more than a year ago.

My dad nodded but refused to face me. I didn’t know why he’d assume I hadn’t told her. My mom was like my best friend—she knew everything about me.

“I was looking forward to walking you down the aisle like I did with your sisters,” he said, still not facing me. “I don’t even see them anymore. You’re all I have left.” I struggled to hear him. The sun set deeper behind us.

“Well, you still can walk me down the aisle…I just have to meet someone first.” I gave him a fragile smile.

“If you do, please do me a favor and don’t tell me. What you wish to do is your own business, but I won’t be a part of it.” He stared out the truck’s window toward the graffiti-covered walls separating the freeway from the rows of Los Angeles houses.

My insides burned. Flames flickered in front of my eyes as my hands gripped the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turned white. “Dad, I…” My voice had a shaky edge I couldn’t control, yet I tried my best anyway. “You live with me. I take care of you. I drive you to your freaking appointments! How can you not be a part of my life? Am I supposed to lie to you, come home late at night, and get grounded? I’m not fourteen.”

I used that age specifically because that was when I had my first boyfriend in high school. My mom and I had hidden it from him wonderfully. It was a shame I messed around with trying to date boys at that age, but I figured that’s what I was supposed to do. The truth finally dawned on me when I was sixteen and found myself attracted to that same ex-boyfriend’s sister, Jamie. She was one of those playful types who flirted with anything that moved. It was probably good I had dated him; otherwise I might’ve never met Jamie. It had also been fun to watch my ex’s jaw drop the first time he saw Jamie and I together.

My dad never knew about any of that. So it wasn’t a matter of me not being able to hide relationships from him. I just didn’t want to—I wanted my father to be accepting.

But he refused. “Whatever it takes,” he said, refusing to let me see his eyes. I turned back to the road, trying to hold back tears.

The nighttime fog followed me onto the bus. I supposed it had nowhere better to go. I didn’t enjoy carrying it around, its heavy gray tendrils wrapping around my neck like a dust-covered chain. I lugged it around like Bruce lugged around his cancer. Any sane person would have grabbed the nearest jackhammer, but nope, not me. I flung around chicken grease and slogged home to take care of my homophobic father. The second time around.

After the initial diagnosis, Bruce fought his illness head-on. He moved in with me, and we drove hours to visit every throat cancer specialist in the area, eating up miles of graffiti sunsets and most of his retirement. I asked my two sisters, who were actually half-sisters from my father’s side, to come back to California and help, but they wouldn’t. They refused to even visit, telling me he didn’t deserve a dime when—for years—his wages went toward whiskey. I told them Bruce didn’t drink anymore, but they didn’t have a reply. I couldn’t fault them. Bruce didn’t recall much about his years spent sloshing liquor, but his three daughters would never forget.

The specialized chemo worked—for a while. His cancer went into remission, and I left my shabby apartment and moved to San Francisco. I needed my own space and a chance to actually find a girlfriend. Four months after the move, Bruce showed up on my doorstep, telling me his cancer had returned and that he’d spent all of his savings. I didn’t know what else to do. I took him in again.

It wasn’t a long ride home. I got off the bus and walked toward my duplex, winding my way through the narrow stretches of grass the city liked to call parks. The fog crept around me, following along like a chilly puppy. The sidewalks were damp from its drool, and I wished I had remembered to bring a jacket. The long, drawn-out cry of a foghorn filtered through the drool-filled tendrils.

I shivered, and a sudden image of the old, wrinkly lady from Crazy Cluckers swept through my mind. The fog is heavy tonight. It’s like a cloud of mist has enveloped the city. But why was she so paranoid about it? I shook my head, forcing the thoughts out of my brain.

Thankfully, I had reached my front doorstep. My dad hadn’t turned on the porch light for me, so I fumbled in the fog for my keys. I was stubborn and refused to carry a purse, somehow managing to stuff everything in the pockets of my jeans. I finally found them, dropping my wallet and phone on the wet grass in the process.

“God dammit,” I cursed in a low mumble, quickly grabbing my things and wiping them against my shirt—not that it helped. Everything was wet. Sighing, I unlocked the door and opened it.

It was almost too warm inside. My dad screamed about using the AC in the summer and ran the heat like it was the Antarctic in the winter. I found him on the couch as usual, watching some John Wayne marathon on TV. He lived in the past when it came to TV—and in a lot of other aspects of life.

“Doing okay?” I asked him, standing in front of the heater long enough to dry off some of the fog-drool.

“I guess.” He didn’t turn to look at me.

“Anyone call?” I took a fast sniff of my shirt then grimaced. Chicken. That would have to go the hamper before I did anything else.

“Nope.”

“Ready to eat?” I started to head toward my bedroom, already knowing the answer.

“After this.” He gestured toward the TV. “And after we eat, you should join me for a movie.” He gave me a weak smile, and I did my best to return it. Ever since I was a teenager, he knew he could easily talk me into a movie. I wasn’t a huge fan of old westerns, but every now and then I found one I enjoyed. Film history had been one of my favorite courses in college.

“Sure,” I said, “I’ll be back.” I worked my way into my room, and an orange furry butt greeted me along the way as a fluffy tail wrapped around my ankles. I grabbed the furry butt and the big cat it belonged to. “Hi, Simon. Hungry?” I held him close to my chest then set him down on the bed. He watched me as I changed out of my chicken-scented shirt. “That probably smells good to you,” I told him. “Too bad. No more chicken, at least not for tonight.”

My room was a mess. I tried to keep the rest of the house in semi-good shape, but my room looked like a disaster in comparison. I had four bookshelves overflowing with books and my computer desk in the midst of a sea of clothes and random junk on the floor. My dad used to jokingly say that I’d have a hard time keeping a husband with my inability to clean and cook. How right he was.

I fed my dad via his tube feeding, made some dinner for myself and Simon, and then the three of us settled down to watch a black and white western. Bruce fell asleep halfway through it, which was pretty normal. I clicked off the TV and left him on the couch with a blanket. He often slept in the living room. Even though he would never admit it, I think he was afraid that I wouldn’t be able to hear him if he called for help from his bedroom. I was sure I could have, but there was no telling him that.

Simon and I went into my room. I had just plopped down on the bed and flipped open a fantasy novel when a mechanical sound that reminded me of a tractor or huge truck starting up roared outside my window. I jumped up out of bed, my book falling to the floor. “What the hell is that?”

The harrowing, revving noise continued and then stopped abruptly. I glanced down at Simon and saw him balancing himself on my headboard. His face was glued to the window, his body stiff as a block of ice, and his tail was puffed up and huge. I tried to look through the window but couldn’t see anything beyond the darkness and fog.

I needed a better look. I headed into the living room and to the front door. To my surprise, the door was wide open and the couch empty. I sprinted out the door and found my father sprawled out on the ground, half of his body on the sidewalk, the other half on the stairs.

“Dad!” I yelled, “What the hell are you doing? What’d you do, fall off the stairs?” I bent down to help him up and then realized he wasn’t looking in my direction. He was frozen in place, staring directly at the sky. I followed his gaze, and I too froze. My heart leapt inside my chest, scrambling to escape.

A huge, metallic, disc-shaped object hovered in the foggy darkness above the grass of a nearby park. Round portholes on the sides emitted silver beams of light that screamed soundlessly into the fog. Three large metal beams extended from the base and onto the ground. Landing pads. I didn’t see a door. Yet.

My breath caught in my throat. My vision almost glazed over, and I had an overwhelming desire to run and escape my body and what I was witnessing.

“I—it…c-can’t b-be…It’s…It’s a…UFO…” The words tumbled out of my mouth, rolling over themselves like a rock slide.

I averted my eyes from the object and saw my neighbors all out on their front doorsteps. Their eyes and bodies were rigid as they stared up at the spacecraft. Some were in their robes and pajamas. One woman two doors down lay in the grass after having fainted, her hair in curlers.

Bruce still hadn’t moved or uttered a word. He swallowed hard and gave me a quick, terrified glance. His mouth gaped open as he attempted to find words. There were none to be found, and his jaw shook with tremors. His frail frame shuddered beneath my hands, and my insides felt just as shaky.

My gaze drifted back toward the spacecraft, almost in slow motion. My mind tried to force my body to look away as if I were watching a horror movie, and the zombie was about to jump out of the shadows. A garage door-sized hull opened on one side of the UFO, and a large, metallic cube floated out. It was about the size of an RV but had no windows or wheels. Instead, it had discs on the bottom that emitted blue beams of light down toward the ground. It hovered in the air through the power of that light. A single huge, mechanical arm extended from the front, and next to the arm were two mechanical jaws clenched shut. It reminded me of a trash truck—only sterile, alien, glistening, and unquestionably life-threatening.

The door on the UFO snapped shut, and the smaller craft rotated toward us. It began to whirr, creating the revving noise I had heard. I could see what looked like a spotlight on the very front of the mechanical jaws. It twisted around and sent forward a bright beam of yellow light that cut through the fog like a knife slicing butter. The fog had little choice but to disappear in its path.

“Sam!” my dad exclaimed hoarsely. “Help me up. We need to get out of here.” He struggled to move his torso off the stairs, so he could stand up.

The hovering metallic beast started toward us. I forced my gaze away and helped my dad up off the ground. He helped me more than he was usually able to, thanks to the adrenaline running through his veins. I searched his eyes once I got him in a standing position, wondering if he had any clue what we should do.

Bruce’s truck was parked across the street in the parking garage, which was situated behind the hovering craft’s location. Running was out of the question in his condition. We didn’t even own a wheelchair. He had refused to have one delivered, even when the doctors insisted.

The whirring grew louder. The bushes and small trees near us twisted in the wind as the machine drew near. Neighbors screamed, and within their screams, the horrific sound of metal grinding was audible. I was afraid to look, but couldn’t help myself. The jaws of the beast swung open as the arm grabbed what looked to be a man and thrust him inside its metallic belly.

The jaws then snapped shut, and the machine advanced toward its next victim, a woman clutching a small child. She ran with all her strength and then dove behind a parked car as the arm grabbed for her. The machine moved faster than she could run. It crushed the car like an insect and seized the terrified pair. Their screams echoed out into the fog as the metal jaws snapped shut on them. I couldn’t tell whether the machine captured them alive or instantly killed them.

“We gotta try to get to the truck!” I yelled to Bruce, urging him forward and away from the monstrosity. “Wait!” I stopped, and then steadied him again. “Stay here a sec! Simon!” I charged back into the warm house and almost tripped over the coffee table as I ran into my bedroom to find the cat where I had left him. He was hissing now and growling, yet remained frozen in fear. I grabbed him and dashed back out the door.

My father was leaning on our mailbox, breathing heavily. He had tried to move on his own, stubborn as he was, but had only made it about five steps. I tucked Simon under an arm and grabbed my dad with the other. I wrapped an arm around his waist and he leaned against my shoulder. Together we walked. I urged him to take longer strides, but it felt futile. Simon squirmed and yowled under my arm.

“Simon, c’mon, be good just this once!” I yelled. I could barely hear my own words as the roar of metal got louder and louder behind us.

Bruce tripped over his own feet and fell onto the pavement again. Our neighbors rushed past us with bags and screaming kids in their arms. My dad gave me a desperate look, sweat forming on his furrowed brow.

“Leave me!” he said. “You can get away faster without me!”

I stopped and hesitated above him then grabbed his arm, yanking it upward. “It doesn’t matter! I’m not leaving you!”

“Go!” He shoved my arm away, and his terrified eyes met mine.

I hesitated again. “I—I can’t!”

I didn’t have time to run if I had wanted to. The machine roared behind us, and its arm grabbed Bruce by the shoulders. He screamed, and the spotlight glared into my face, blinding me. All I could see in front of me was a yellow light in the shape of an eyeball. It was bright as the sun. I was lifted off the ground as pain jolted through my shoulders and neck. I lunged forward, trying to twist and fight against the appendage, but the metal claw dug deeper into my back. Simon kicked against me with all his strength in an attempt to break free, but I grabbed him with both arms and clutched him tightly to my chest. I didn’t know our fate, but I knew I couldn’t bear the thought of never feeling Simon’s soft fur against my face again. I huddled my head against his shaking body and screamed as the pain overtook me.

The arm released me onto a pile of warm, frantic bodies. I still couldn’t see anything. My back was on fire, as if the mechanical arm was still attached, ripping out my spine. I smelled the sickly-sweet smell of blood all around me, felt it dripping down my back. Simon was still wailing under my arm, his claws digging into my flesh.

“Dad, are you okay?” I yelled. I couldn’t hear myself. Everyone around me was screaming and crying, and each scream sounded exactly alike. Children, parents, grandparents, and teenagers—it didn’t matter—our terror was the same. The blinding eyeball and its metallic iris blocking my vision eventually faded to absolute black as I passed out from the piercing pain in my shoulder blades.

Chapter 2

When I awoke, I opened my eyes and found the gleaming robotic iris gone. I could make out hazy shapes floating in the subdued darkness around me. Fleeting specks of light bounced off the metallic walls every now and then. I could barely make out my father’s shape next to me. He was sprawled against a sloped wall, eyes closed. His T-shirt was covered in the glint of fresh blood, as were the few gray wisps of hair left on his head. My entire body felt sticky with sweat and blood.

Soft whimpers and cries sounded around me. The voices were suppressed, as though everyone had decided to reserve their energy by resting instead of shouting. I could still hear the whirring and clanking of the machine we were in, but it was quieter. The mechanical beast must have taken a break from capturing new victims, but I could tell we were still moving.

My shoulder and back ached though the pain was somewhat tolerable. I moved my head slightly to get a better view of the people around us. It looked like Bruce dragged me away from the pile of people we were thrown on top of and into a corner. Simon was lying rigidly on Bruce’s lap, eyes wide. He saw that I was awake and cautiously joined me. His tail flicked in annoyance, and he gave me his best pitiful “momma, take me home” look.

“I wish I could, baby,” I told him, giving him a hug. My father stirred in his sleep.

A piece of flannel was wrapped around my shoulders and across my chest and back. Another piece was wrapped around my father. I smiled weakly. Bruce must have made makeshift bandages with the thin flannel jacket he always wore. He was such a pain in the ass most of the time, but he did care.

A short distance across from us, there was a small girl and her father. The father looked to be about my age and had dark hair and a mustache. He held his tear-stained daughter in his lap.

The father noticed me watching them. “She’s finally asleep,” he murmured, careful to keep his voice down.

“How long have we been in here?” I asked him quietly.

He looked down at his watch with a grimace. “About two hours.”

“I wonder if they’re taking us back to the…” my voice trailed off.

“Mother ship?” The man finished my sentence. He sat up and then scooted his sleeping daughter off his lap.

I nodded.

His eyes met mine. They glittered in the dim, reflected lighting. “That was my initial thought, yes. But we’re not headed in the right direction. We’re going way off course. They’re taking us…elsewhere. Perhaps they have a base already established here.” He gazed toward the front of machine, as if trying to distinguish its course.

“I guess that’s possible,” I admitted, raising an eyebrow at him. He sounded excited about being here. Leave it to me to find the crazy people.

“One thing does surprise me, however,” he continued. “If these beings are executing a full-blown attack, why have they stopped tossing people in here like raw meat? There’s room for at least twice as many people in here. It’s almost like they’re being considerate.” He ran one hand over his mouth and mustache.

“I…I think I’m grateful for that.” A shiver ran down my spine.

My dad stirred again, opening his eyes. “You all right?” I asked him, thankful for someone somewhat sane to talk to.

“I think so,” Bruce said. “How about you? You gave me a scare.” He cleared his throat softly.

“I guess. It’s not bleeding anymore at least.” I pointed to my shoulder. “And it doesn’t hurt as much now. Thanks.” I gave him an exhausted smile.

“Your gash was deeper than mine. You must have struggled more.”

“I couldn’t see anything. That headlight thing blinded me temporarily.” I forced myself to sit up taller and test out my shoulder. At least I was able to move it somewhat.

“Careful,” my dad cautioned. “You might want to keep it stationary.”

I nodded at him and patted my legs for Simon. The cat climbed up on my lap and lay down, his posture a bit more relaxed.

The man across from me turned to us. “My wife and our other daughter are still somewhere out there.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “Were they nearby? Maybe they’re safe.”

He shook his head. “Julie was with me at my office. I had some paperwork to grab, and I had just picked her up from a dance recital. Right before we were snatched up, I saw another machine leaving in the direction of Third Street, where our apartment is.”

I couldn’t think of what to say. A few moments of silence passed. My dad fussed with his makeshift bandage. “Maybe they were able to hide from it,” I said finally.

“Hopefully. I just wish we were all together.” The man sighed, then searched his pockets, and pulled out an expensive smartphone. “Does your phone work? Mine isn’t powering on, and it was fully charged when I left the office.”

I dragged mine out and checked it, shaking my head. “It’s dead completely. I can’t even access any of the menu screens.”

“I wonder if this is their doing. It’s possible that they have the technology to block all of our satellites. If I could just find a way to talk to my wife, find out if they made it.”

“They’re safe,” I said, trying my best to be comforting. “They’ve got to be.”

“My name’s David by the way. Not the best circumstances to meet, but we may as well get to know each other while we’re stuck here.”

“I’m Sam. This is my father, Bruce.”

My dad nodded to David. I guessed it was supposed to be one of those friendly nods. I had a hard time telling. A part of me missed the old Bruce, who would hungrily strike up conversations with strangers just because he got lonely. That was before his diagnosis. He’d talk to me for hours about all sorts of random stuff. I used to think he just liked to hear his voice prattle on. I wasn’t sure whether the cancer or his life surrounding the cancer made him change. I knew it hurt him to talk too much. He used to try and explain that to people, but he had stopped doing that, even. Explaining got tiring.

We were quiet for another minute as the whining and clanking noises of the machine settled around us, reminding us how helpless we were.

It was an uncomfortable surrender. David blinked a few times nervously, as if chasing away any hint of it. He looked at me with the same gleam in his eyes he had previously. “Maybe I shouldn’t ask this, but I’m curious.”

“Go ahead,” I said.

“Did you happen to see…them?”

I shook my head. “Just this stupid machine and the larger one it came out of.”

David let out a strange chuckle, shaking his head with me. “I don’t think the larger ship we saw was their mother ship,” he said. “What if there are more than one? What if their metal hulls are covering every known surface of the planet?” His glittering gaze disappeared somewhere I couldn’t see.

“Anything’s possible,” my dad said.

David slumped back against the wall, careful not to wake Julie. “It’s hard to believe this is actually happening. Our science fiction isn’t so fictitious after tonight.”

“I used to write about this stuff like this,” I said in a quiet voice.

“Yeah? I love science fiction. Movies, books, cheesy comic books. My wife thinks I’m crazy.” His mustache curved upward in a smile through the dim light.

“I can tell,” I admitted. A timid smile crept onto my face as well. I liked David more now that I could sympathize with his bit of craziness. “Never had anything published, but yeah, I love sci-fi too.”

“Fantastic, a fellow geek! Pretty ironic that both of us got caught up in this metal belly to chitchat about it all, isn’t it?” He paused. “You said you used to write? Why’d you stop?”

I shrugged, the smile disappearing from my face. “Life happened, I guess. I graduated from college with a Bachelor’s in Creative Writing and then never did much with it. I hope to get back into writing, but it’s hard.”

My dad grumbled under his breath. I wasn’t sure whether the grumbles were the result of our geek talk or my writer talk. He wasn’t particularly fond of either subject.

“Life seems to steal the fuel from our jets at times,” David said. “I hope you get back into writing, Sam. The world needs more dreamers.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I really do miss it.”

“So which stereotype do you think our aliens belong to? We’ve got our old-fashioned green, slimy dudes with antennae and bug eyes, the gigantic bugs that spew slime, and even the helpless little goo balls living inside impenetrable suits of armor.”

I had to admit I was thankful for the conversation. My dad and I by ourselves may have let the cacophony of the machine lull us to a state of fearful sleepiness. “Who the hell knows,” I said, “but from the size of their spacecraft, I’d say they’re fairly similar to our size.” I shook my head. “I feel like I’m dreaming, caught in some massive patch of fog.” My eyes opened widely as the last word escaped from my mouth. I thought back to the old woman at Crazy Cluckers. “She was right,” I murmured.

“Hm?” David asked.

Before I could answer him, the whirring and groaning of our machine transporter stopped. The three of us exchanged nervous glances as the memory of the crazy lady vanished from my mind. Julie stirred, and David tried to hush her, but the silence startled the traces of sleep away from the little girl. Her bright green eyes darted around our enclosure. Everyone else around us sat up and held their breaths. Simon’s eyes went huge like saucers, his tail fluffing up in apprehension. The silence was deafening as we sat and wondered what was going to happen to us next.

An echoing, ancient, creaking sound shuddered through the walls around us, like an old door was being forced open. The creak turned into a splintering thud. The device we were in began to whir again as it jolted upwards at an incline. My dad and I were at the very top, and we had no choice but to scoot forward, away from our wall. Simon dug his claws into my thighs and started hissing. I wrapped my arms around him and spun him around, forcing him to sink his claws into the flannel shirt covering my chest. The incline steepened, and we slid down the smooth metal floor toward the front of the machine and its ominous jaws. I winced as waves of pain shot up my back and into my shoulders as we were tossed forward.

Bruce grunted as he landed on an old lady. The woman barely noticed. Her eyes shone with fear. Simon yowled in my ears. David held Julie close to his chest. She started screaming again as we all fell forward and ended up in a giant pile, directly above the closed jaws of the beast.

The whir that surrounded us shifted into a roar, and the jaws opened wide, spilling us out of the mechanical beast. We landed with a sickening thud and blare of screams and yowls on a surface that was sturdy, but not as cold as the metal we had just been encased in. A musty darkness closed in on us.

I glanced up from my position near the top of the pile, hoping for some kind of inkling of where we were or a glimpse of what our captors looked like. The spotlight above the device’s jaw was turned off, as were the blue hover-lights. All I could see was a glint of metal in the gloom. My gaze trailed after the glint, and I saw a narrow tendril of fog streaming in from outside, where the moonlight shone dimly. We were inside another type of enclosure. That single strand of fog called out to me, and I leaned forward, reaching toward it.

“Show yourselves!” David screamed.

Someone below me shoved me off them forcefully, and I flailed off course, shouting out as my shoulder hit the floor. Simon flew off my chest, yowling miserably, and sank his claws back into my thighs. I ground my teeth together to stop myself from screaming out.

“Watch it! Some of us are hurt!” my dad exclaimed. He leaned against me protectively, and I laid a hand on his, letting him know I was all right. I then reached out and stroked Simon until he lessened his hold to my legs enough for me to pry him off my jeans and back into my arms and the flannel shirt. His yowls shifted back into growls and hisses.

“Where are we now?” an elderly woman cried, bursting into tears. The same woman Bruce had landed on.

Julie cried from somewhere nearby. I forced myself to ignore the pain in my shoulder and sat up, trying to discern whether we were inside the larger spacecraft or someplace new entirely.

It wasn’t much relief, but at least we were still on Earth. The ever-so-slight glow of moonlight was proof of that. I once again felt the need to reach out and brush my hand through the moonlight, gather up the tendrils of fog, and never let either out of my sight again.

As I shuffled forward, grasping for the evasive wisps of fog, they were taken away from me. The jaws on the machine snapped shut, satisfied that we were all in a desperate pile. It began to roar again, drowning out the cries, screams, and growls around me. The blue lights below it lit up as it hovered into the air, rotated around, and began to exit our new enclosure.

The eerie glow flashed from the hover panels long enough for me to realize that the moonlight came from a straight-edged doorway. The creaking we heard was a set of metal double doors being forced open.

I hastily shoved Simon away and lunged toward the doors as the machine backed out of the building. The metallic beast slammed the doors shut with its arm just as it inched away from the opening, leaving me to smash my body against the closed doors. I cried out as pain arched through my body, and the blue light disappeared, along with any trace of the moonlight or the familiar fog.

“Sam!” David called out, climbing to his feet and shuffling toward me.

“Get her away from there in case that thing comes back!” Bruce told him.

Pain continued to spiral down through my body, and blood seeped down my back again. I opened my eyes and found my vision blurry.

“Moonlight…I saw it!” I cried out. David dragged me away from the doors, even though my arms were still outreached, yearning to touch what was no longer there. “The fog! We can’t let it escape!” My voice wavered and my vision continued to blur.

“Ssh,” my dad murmured, “try and rest now. We need to stop this bleeding.” I faintly heard Simon growling near me and Bruce grumbling about needing to have him declawed.

David leaned me up against a wall. The wall was cold, but not metallic. We couldn’t be in the mother ship. We were in some building near our home, where there were double doors. The thought encouraged me to try and sit up and find a way out of this new prison, but my body refused to listen to my brain. My eyes shut, and my consciousness drifted away again. The last thoughts in my mind focused on how damned beautiful the moonlit fog had looked as it whispered its way through that crack in the door.

Chapter 3

When I awoke, I sat up quickly, grimacing at the pain in my shoulder, and glared at my father and David, who we were both sitting next to me. Julie and Simon were sleeping next to David, and everyone else around us appeared wide awake, yet exhausted. A few small votive candles burned nearby. The tiny flames reflected in the eyes of everyone around us.

“So…We’re just going to sit here?” I asked.

“Just what are we supposed to do, Sam?” My father returned the glare but looked ready to collapse from exhaustion at any moment.

“We tried everything we could,” David said, his voice hushed. “The doors are sealed, and there’s no other way out.”

I glanced around the room. There was one small window out of reach, and it looked to be made of a thick, clear material that was clouded with age. No way would we get through that, even if we could somehow reach it. It looked to be boarded up from the outside, but a section of the boarding had fallen off, displaying a two-inch stretch of darkened sky. The ceiling above our heads was high, the floor smooth yet dust-covered, and there was no furniture. A small black box was mounted high up toward the ceiling on one wall. It reminded me of an old fashioned speaker.

“Where the hell are we?” I asked, narrowing my eyes as I attempted to discern more details of the dimly-lit room. “We’ve gotta be in Frisco still.” I did a quick head count. There were fifteen of us, including two small children. Everyone had split off into smaller groups, choosing corners of the room to settle down in. There didn’t seem to be any noise coming from outside.

“Yeah, I agree,” David said. “It looks to be an older building. Might be part of the old town of Frisco. My initial guess is that our captors landed here before tonight and prepared this old warehouse, or whatever this is, for tonight’s purpose.” His eyebrows furrowed. “That means tonight wasn’t their first contact.”

I shook my head. “I’m not so sure. This place seems…familiar somehow to me. It reminds me…” My voice trailed off. There were looming piles of dust in each of the room’s corners. Close to one of the piles I could make out red lines on the ground, about three inches wide. “Wait.” I scooted over to the lines, wincing again at the pain in my shoulder.

The whole area was covered in dust, and the lines were barely visible under the layers. I wiped away a small patch of dust and dirt. It had a familiar smell somehow, mixed in with the smell of mustiness, but I couldn’t quite place it. It wasn’t a terrible smell, nor a nice one. Just kind of familiar.

“You find something?” David asked, eyes shining curiously. He joined me, bringing one of the votives over. I eyed the candle suddenly. “A nice lady gave us these,” he said, “and some gauze and tape for your shoulder. She thought to grab an earthquake kit as she ran out of her house.”

“Smart,” I said. The dust rose from the floor around us, and I coughed. Another wave of pain jutted through my body. My hand closed on something. It felt like paper. I brought it over to the candlelight. “It’s a candy wrapper.”

“Look, there’s more,” David said, rustling in the dust and finding more of them. “Blow Pops. Now and Laters. Starbursts. Sunflower seed shells. What a peculiar diet for aliens to have.”

I scooted away from the pile for a second to stare at the red lines and follow them across the floor, now that I could see them better. The lines formed a half circle that ended at a wall. A smaller circle was in the middle. They were painted on the floor with precision, like they were supposed to be there.

“These lines, maybe they’re used in some type of alien military exercise?” David offered.

I glanced upward, shaking my head. His idea just didn’t make sense. Above my head was a mounted panel with connecting chains that hung from a rusted metal hoop. Realization hit. “We’re in a school gymnasium,” I said. “That’s a basketball hoop, and this is the court.”

David’s mouth gaped open as he quickly nodded. “Of course! That also explains the solid double doors, the lack of windows, and the high ceilings.”

“Must be an elementary school or middle school, since there are no bleachers. Hasn’t been used in some years.” I laughed suddenly. “Now and Laters were hot at my high school. Wrappers all over the goddamn place.” The smell I’d noticed must have been the familiar scent of a school gym, a subtle mix of sweat, dust, plaster, and rubber sports equipment.

David stood and held the candle before him as he explored the wall to our side. He stopped when he found a metal bar sticking out. He wrestled with it for a few seconds and then yanked it downward. A metallic creak echoed through the gym, and in a flurry of dust, part of the wall came loose. David dragged the loose part down to the floor and extended the metal bar. It locked with a snap, forming a bench.

“I remember those,” I said. “My elementary school had those in the auditorium. We used them for rainy days.”

A few people near us looked around the room for similar bars, and brought down the benches near them. This way we didn’t have to sit on the floor at least. I stayed on the floor and scooted back to the bench where my dad sat, leaning against it.

My shoulder did need rest. My dad poked at the bandage from behind me.

“Ow,” I winced, turning to face him. “You know, I forgot how much of a worrywart you can be.”

“Sara must have given me that small part of her.”

A smile crept over his pale skin in the candlelight. Sara was my mother. He loved and missed her as much as I did, but it was hard to tell with him sometimes. Sara and Bruce were a strange couple. They got along terribly at the end of their marriage, but years after their divorce, wounds healed, and they became friends again. I was always grateful for that.

David walked by us, pacing.

“How’s Julie?” I asked him.

“Sleeping still, thank God. The less she remembers of all this, the better.” He paced up to the double doors and grabbed them, pulling back with all his strength. They didn’t budge. “Come here, if you feel up to it. I want to show you this.”

I stood up, wincing, and made my way over to him. “What time is it anyway?”

“Almost four in the morning.” He pointed to where there was generally a crack between the two double doors. “They usually make these things fairly easy to force open. But someone wants to keep us in here.”

I followed his finger. There was a white substance sealing the distance between the two doors. I touched it. It was hard and reminded me of cement. I tried to see if any of it would brush off onto my finger. It appeared to be perfectly solid. I held my nose close to the doors and realized the material didn’t even have a noticeable scent. I sighed. “The real question is why they’re keeping us in here. What use could they possibly have for us?”

He shook his head. “I wish I knew. I have some ideas, mostly revolving around our DNA being used as a food source and other such notions, but thinking about them too much makes me wish I didn’t know.”

“I wish I was in my own bed,” my dad added from behind us. I couldn’t help but agree on both accounts.

David sighed again and resumed pacing. He stopped next to Julie and sat down on the bench. “Maybe we should try and get some sleep. We need to be prepared for whatever they toss our way.”

“You’re probably right,” I said, “but I don’t think I can.”

“Me neither.”

We heard a series of clicks from somewhere above our heads, and one by one we gazed up to try and find the source. We were answered by being blanketed in light. The gym’s overhead lights buzzed to full power, and we frantically blinked and surveyed every corner.

“Who did that?” a voice shouted.

“Who’s there?” came another.

“Show yourselves! We deserve to know who’s holding us captive!” David yelled.

The black box that was attached to one wall crackled. I inspected the box in the light and realized it was one of those old fashioned intercom boxes they used to broadcast campus-wide announcements and period bells with.

“Do you re-quire sus-ten-ance?” The voice coming through the speaker sounded mechanical, forced, as if it were coming from one of those voice recordings on a telephone—the calls you usually hung up on. There was no accent of any sort. The English was understandable, barely. Each syllable was painfully sounded out.

“Yes!” an African-American lady near us shouted. “Water, please!” She was the one who gave us the candles. I noticed her bag of supplies and pile of blankets. She was munching on crackers as she spoke. How the hell did she think to grab all that? Too bad I wasn’t that smart.

“Some juice for my son, please!” another voice shouted.

“A cold, stiff drink, please!” someone else added. A few people laughed hesitantly.

“Show us who’s speaking!” David added. “Tell us what you want!”

The intercom box crackled with static, and then clicked off.

The lady with the crackers turned to face us. “Don’t you dare start anything yet,” she warned. “I can’t die in here, my grandson needs me. We gotta live.” Her eyes were fierce, yet a hue of warmth shone through them.

David held his head down, as though embarrassed. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t my intent. I have family out there still too. It’s just…the not knowing…It’s like being purposely held in the dark.”

“The not knowing will drive you crazy,” I finished. “The more we find out, the more we can plan our escape.”

“Who you kidding, honey?” The woman laughed. “Have you seen those machines they’re carting around? They’re way above us. And what do we have to protect ourselves with?”

“That doesn’t mean we give up already!” I shouted. “We haven’t even seen them!”

“I didn’t say to give up! We just gotta sit tight until the right time. For now we gotta make sure we get what we need to keep on living.”

I couldn’t really argue with that. She had a point. We didn’t have any water, and those crackers were probably the only food we had between all fifteen of us. There wasn’t even a bathroom in the gym for tap water. I sighed. “You’re right. We do need to make sure we stay alive first.”

She nodded. “This shouting won’t get us anywhere, either. My name’s Naomi. I already know David here.” She smiled warmly at him.

“My name’s Sam. This is my father, Bruce. Thank you for the candles, by the way.”

“You’re welcome. I have a few more in here.” She gestured toward her bag. “Speaking of which…” She blew out the two candles near us. “Best be saving these for when it goes dark again.” She paused, and then turned back toward me. “Sam like short for Samantha?”

“Yeah.”

“Samantha’s much prettier, don’t you think?”

“Maybe. But I’m a simple person. I like the simplicity of Sam.” I suddenly wished there was somewhere to hide.

“I’m not so sure about that, honey. You seem pretty brave to me. Brave ain’t exactly simple. But then again, you’re young. You young folks have guts.” She smiled at me.

A blush snuck onto my face. I didn’t feel brave very often, and I wasn’t given compliments very often, either.

Bruce shuffled off our bench and onto the floor noisily. I turned to him. “I think I need to try and get some sleep,” he said. He didn’t look well. Paler than usual. His neck started jerking with tremors. How much blood has he lost from the gashes on his shoulders?

Naomi grabbed one of the blankets next to her and handed it to me. “Here, Bruce, take this. I have a couple to spare.”

I took the blanket eagerly and wrapped it around him as he lay down parallel to our bench. I took off his glasses and placed them on the bench. “Thank you very much, Naomi. Try and get some rest, Dad.” Just then, Simon left Julie’s side and rubbed up against me, eyes wide. “Oh, and have a cat.” I hugged Simon and led him to Bruce’s side, where he curled up into a ball on the blanket.

Naomi gave another blanket to David. “For your daughter.”

He thanked her and wrapped Julie up in it, careful not to wake her. I suddenly envied the little girl’s ability to sleep through the commotion.

Naomi stood and walked to an empty bench on the opposite side of the room, motioning for us to follow. David extended an arm to help me up, and together we joined her. Most of the people around us were laying on the floor, attempting to fall asleep. I was careful not to make too much noise as I hobbled along.

“Boy, that thing really ripped through you,” Naomi noted in a low voice.

“Yeah, and it keeps tearing open,” I grumbled, taking a seat next to her.

“It just you and your father?”

“Yep, and my cat, Simon.”

“No other family? Boyfriend?”

I shook my head. “The rest of my family’s either gone or moved far away. I’m not close with them anymore. And I’m sadly single, though it wouldn’t be a boy I’d go for anyway.”

“I see. That explains the nickname.” Naomi smiled.

“Eh, I guess,” I said, shrugging. “I’m just me.” My thoughts randomly went back to Matt and how angry I was with him earlier. That whole thing seemed so stupid now.

“And that’s how it should be. I have a gay nephew. He’s strong and sweet like you are. I admire him.”

I fumbled for words. I was unaccustomed to people being so nice to me. I didn’t have to fumble for long. A loud scraping sound rumbled from behind the wall in front of us. I swallowed hard. Now what are they doing? A tendril of fear began to swim up my spine, and I clenched my teeth together as the three of us stood, readying ourselves. Except there was nowhere to go, and very little we could do.

A metal plate about the size of a moving box opened up in the wall. A metallic arm similar to the one on the transportation device crept out slowly, snake-like. It carried a large jug. David moved in front of us in an attempt to protect us.

The arm was smaller than those on the hovercrafts, and had four jointed fingers instead of two sharp claws. It shone with the same silver glint that the rest of their metal shone with. The material, whatever it was, was almost too bright. It must be treated differently than our metal or was made from different elements than we were used to.

The arm dropped the jug near David’s feet, and then quickly receded into the wall again, the metal plate closing almost instantaneously with a scrape and a bang. The three of us glanced down at the jug, afraid to touch it.

Another scrape rang out, and the plate opened again. The arm crept out faster this time, carrying a large cardboard box. It plopped it down next to the jug, and disappeared into the wall again. Another scrape, another bang, and the plate was secured in place once more. Silence returned to us, and we stared at one another.

Naomi sat down again slowly, placing a hand over her heart. “Now what?” she asked us. “I volunteer you two to check that stuff out. Find out if it’ll explode.”

Footsteps shuffled behind us as people walked up to peer over our shoulders. I took a step forward gingerly and inspected the jug. It was made out of clear plastic and had a lid. It looked just like one of those Arrowhead water jugs, except larger. It even had a mini plastic faucet on the side. I slid it toward us, and the contents inside sloshed around.

“I think it’s just water,” I said. “Do you happen to have any cups in that bag of yours, Naomi?”

She let out a relieved breath and rummaged around in her bag. She pulled out a stack of paper cups and handed them to me. I tested out the faucet on the side. Clear, perfectly normal-looking water came out. I filled a cup and held it to my nose.

“It smells fine,” I said, loud enough for everyone around us to hear. I glanced back toward Bruce and Julie and found them both sitting up, awake. The commotion must have awoken them. I debated if I really wanted to be the first to test out this alien-delivered water, then figured what the hell, and took a swig.

It was the best water I’d ever tasted. I hadn’t even realized my throat had been parched until the liquid washed away some of the fragments of dust, debris, and fear that had settled inside my body. I drank the entire cup, filled it up again, and then held it up. “It’s fine. Help yourselves!”

I started handing out cups. Everyone formed a line and began to talk excitedly among themselves. “Conserve the cups. They’re all we’ve got!” I announced above the voices. I gave the rest of the cups to Naomi, keeping three for myself, and walked away from the group.

I found David kneeling next to the plate in the wall, pushing against the cracks where it had opened. “How’s that sealed?” I asked him, handing him two cups.

He frowned. “The same way the door is. With this white, hard stuff. I don’t understand how they seal it so quick. It was just open a minute ago!” He rammed a shoulder into the plate. It didn’t budge.

“Must be some super goop.”

“I guess so.” He sighed. “On the bright side, it looks like they actually listened to us, although why that is, I can’t exactly fathom.” He pointed toward the cardboard box. Inside were three gallons of warm orange juice, a large bucket, a stack of what looked to be industrial paper towels, and a plastic bottle filled with a white substance.

“The water and orange juice we asked for,” I said. “Do you think they studied up on us enough to know that we need to dispose of our waste? That would explain the bucket.”

“Either that or they’ve seen the toilets in the school.” David grabbed the bucket and paper towels and brought them to the corner farthest away from the rows of benches. “Hey, guys!” he called out. “Here’s our shitter for tonight!” A few people gasped and then quieted as they realized there were no other alternatives.

I picked up the plastic bottle. Condensation formed on the outside, and it dripped on me. I peered into it. David appeared at my side again. “Do you think it’s just ice?” I asked him.

“Why would they give us a tiny bottle of ice? It’s not enough to use for anything.” His brow furrowed in confusion. “Maybe it’s for our hurt shoulders?” he offered. “Maybe it’s some sort of frozen medication to alter our brain waves.” He then shrugged, as if his last suggestion paired with the first quite conceivably.

I grimaced, and then thought about it as I poured my dad a cup of orange juice and brought it to him. He drank as I showed him the bottle. He couldn’t make anything from it either. It just didn’t make sense. Why would these creatures, these aliens, these…things, show us any compassion after doing what they’d done to us so far?

David brought Julie a cup of juice, and I sat down on the floor next to Simon to let him drink from my cup of water. The four of us sat in silence for a moment, drinking, thinking about the bottle.

Naomi joined us once the water line slowed down. “Think we can use the cardboard box to make a stall of sorts over there?” she asked David, pointing toward our makeshift toilet.

David nodded, and then walked over to grab the box and rip off one side of it. We watched him drag it over to the bucket in the corner.

I showed Naomi the bottle, and she stared at it as I had. I shook it into the now-empty cup I held, catching a few melted droplets. I tasted them. It was just ice.

“Well…” Naomi said, scratching her head. “Didn’t someone ask for a cold, stiff drink?”

David returned to us and heard the comment Naomi made. He sat down and started chuckling, his mustache twisting upward. His chuckles eventually turned into a full-fledged, hearty laugh. It was one of those great, contagious laughs that made a person forget what they were even thinking about. We all joined him in laughter, and for a brief moment, we forgot about the fear that enclosed and surrounded us like the walls of our makeshift prison.

Chapter 4

“It’s nearing dawn,” Naomi whispered. We sat on the bench next to the water jug, surveying our dim, pitiful new home. The bright overheard lights had been shut off two hours ago, and darkness once again encompassed us. Everyone took it as a sign to finally get some shut-eye. Except Naomi and I. We sat in the dark with a single candle lit between us.

I nodded. My shoulder was bothering me again, but every time I tried to lay down, the pain worsened. I was more exhausted than I’d ever remembered being, but relaxation seemed a state of mind as distant as a sunny beach at the moment. Maybe I needed a stiff drink. “I don’t suppose you got any real booze in that bag of yours?” I asked.

“If I did, I can assure you I’d be drinking it about now,” she said, laughing. “In the future, I’ll have to add a bottle of whiskey to my earthquake kit. Never leave home without it.”

“Not whiskey. Make it tequila.” I smiled at her weakly. Whiskey had been my father’s drink of choice when he was an alcoholic. The mere stench of the stuff was enough to make me sick.

“Sounds good. Bit of lime perhaps? Salt shaker?”

I grinned. “That’s my kinda earthquake kit.”

We were quiet for a few moments, watching the shadows of people stirring in their sleep. Bruce’s low snores traveled across the gym.

Naomi must have seen my eyes settle on his sleeping form as he lay bundled up with Simon and her blanket. “Is he well?” she asked.

“Not really. He has cancer in his throat and mouth. It went into remission about a year ago, but it’s come back with a vengeance. His body’s too weak to handle a second round of chemo and radiation. The doctors are afraid it’ll spread before he regains any strength.”

“You care a lot about him.”

“I dunno about that. He’s so stubborn. He refuses to go in for regular checkups this time around. I think he’s afraid to go through it all again. He’d never admit it, of course.”

“Can’t say I blame him. Cancer treatment is one of the worst things a person can go through. The thought of going through it twice…”

“I know. At the same time, he’s always been such a fighter. He’s survived two terms in the army, a stroke, heart attack, triple-bypass heart surgery, almost losing part of his foot due to an infection, diabetes, alcoholism, and two divorces. My mother passed away right as he was diagnosed with cancer…” I wasn’t sure how to continue speaking without letting my voice break apart. I didn’t know why I had just told Naomi my father’s entire life story consolidated into a single sentence, but there it was. His entire life, and my own life intertwined with his, hovered in the air. I took a deep breath and waited for it to collapse at my feet.

Naomi laid a warm hand on top of mine and squeezed it, negating any chance of a collapse. “Sometimes even the strongest of souls gotta sit down and take a breather. My late husband fought cancer for two years before he finally took it easy. He just stopped taking his medication one day, didn’t tell me until it was too late. He said he’d reached the finish line and didn’t want to die in a hospital bed, too weak to say my name. I called hospice, and a week later he was running the race again, this time among the clouds.”

“I dunno.” I sighed. “It’s really up to him. I’m not sure he’ll survive all this.”

“Is he on much medication? Did you bring it with you?”

“No. He pretty much fought every pill they tried to put him on. He’s on a few, but I didn’t think to grab them.”

“I don’t have much in my bags. Vitamins, some aspirin. But you’re welcome to either if you need them.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it. Could I steal a couple aspirin right now, if you don’t mind? My shoulder’s still killing me.”

Naomi nodded and rummaged around until she found them, then handed me two.

In the dim candlelight, a shadow crossed the room and came toward us. I swallowed my aspirin as the silhouette approached. It was a feminine silhouette I didn’t recognize. Finally she neared our candlelight, and stopped.

“Can I…have some water, please?” she asked in a soft voice.

“Well of course, honey, don’t be shy,” Naomi told her, handing her a paper cup.

“For my family too?” The newcomer was young, around my age or perhaps younger. Her accent was of Hispanic origin.

“Of course. Didn’t y’all come up and get some earlier?”

The girl shook her head shyly, her dark brown ponytail bobbing in the candlelight. My eyes surveyed the rest of her body. She was shorter than I was, barely, and wore jeans and a snug red hoodie. Her face was soft, with striking cheekbones and dark skin.

“How many?” Naomi continued.

“Three. Myself, my father, and mother.” Her gaze wandered toward me.

“Hi there. I’m Sam,” I said, smiling.

“Hello. My name is Kisana. My parents are Pablo and Marie.” She returned the smile, her green eyes meeting my blue eyes for a second. “I have a brother too, who was not…with us.”

Naomi gave Kisana two more cups and introduced herself. “I’m sorry, honey. Many of us have been separated from loved ones. All we can do is pray they’re safe. Here you go. Now, no need to be shy. We’re all a family here until we figure out what’s going on.”

Kisana nodded. “Thank you very much. Good night.” She turned around and slowly left, shifting back into a shadowy silhouette. The silhouette floated back to the opposite side of the room. It had some pretty nice looking curves from my angle.

“You done drooling?” Naomi asked me quietly, eyebrows raised.

“I, uh…” I stammered, feeling my face redden. I guess I had been staring.

She chuckled at me and yawned. “She’s a cutie. Keep an eye on her?”

“Eh, she’s probably straight. I have a bad habit of falling for straight girls.” I scowled at the candle in front of us.

“So find out if she swings your way first, silly.”

I chuckled. “You make it sound so easy.”

“Psh. It is easy. If you want it to be. But something tells me you like to do things the hard way.”

“I think I’m kinda stupid that way. I’ve made a lot of shortcuts in my life, but when it comes to the important things, I like to make them stupidly hard on myself.”

“That’s okay. You’re still young.” Naomi smiled at me and yawned again. “Well, I think I’m gonna try and get some shut-eye. You should too; that aspirin should be kicking in shortly.” She got up and stretched. She was very tall. No wonder people did as she asked.

“Thanks, and good night.” Her silhouette disappeared into a dark corner where the others slept. I picked up the tiny candle and carried it over to the wannabe toilet, thinking about Naomi’s wise words. I felt honored to have met the woman, even if the circumstances were the among the worst imaginable in the entire planet’s history.

While behind the temporary bathroom stall, I took the time to make a makeshift litter box for Simon out of ripped cardboard and bits of paper towels. He wouldn’t like the facilities on hand, but he sure wasn’t alone with that sentiment.

On my way back, another pair of candles glowed in the dim light of pre-dawn. I edged closer to them curiously. Three people hunched over them, two women and a man. The man clutched a beaded rosary in his hands. The three huddled over it with closed eyes, deep in prayer. They didn’t notice me. I recognized Kisana and realized that she was with her parents.

I quietly tiptoed away, smiling. I wasn’t religious whatsoever, neither was Bruce, but in cases like this, I could appreciate the role religion played for families. Religion held them together. That rosary was like a sort of glue. I was glad Kisana had such a good family and found myself just a bit envious.

I found my way back to Bruce and Simon and poked Simon awake so I could lead him to his new litter box. He swished his tail at me in confusion but eventually followed me and used it, making a complete mess out of the cardboard in the process. I sighed and left cleaning up the mess for the morning.

We went back to Bruce and joined him on the floor. I blew out my candle, stole part of Bruce’s blanket, and tried to will my eyelids to grow heavy. I was exhausted, but my mind was working in overdrive. What if the aliens try to eat us in our sleep? I forced my mind away from the thought, figuring that David was probably thinking enough similar thoughts for the both of us.

I sighed, wishing I had brought my book with me. I turned and cuddled up to Simon then thought about how beautiful Kisana’s face looked in the candlelight. That did the trick, and I was soon asleep.

Chapter 5

I slept uneasily, with wild dreams that reminded me of fever dreams and made no more sense to me than our situation. Every little sneeze, cough, or shuffle woke me and caused my heart to thud noisily in my chest. The one time I fell into a decent sleep, loud voices drifted into my feverish brain, and I awoke grumbling. The voices came from Bruce and David, who weren’t even trying to talk quietly. I could have sworn Naomi and I kept our voices down when they were sleeping last night.

“Sam likes to sleep all damn day when she can get away with it,” my dad mumbled.

I opened my eyes a sliver and saw the bright light of the overhead lights. “Forget it, I’m up,” I announced, groaning loudly. I sat up too fast and immediately cried out in pain. “Dammit,” I mumbled. “This thing needs to heal.”

“Whoa, easy there,” David said. “You need to give it time.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered. “Why are the huge lights on?”

“They turned them on a few hours ago. Sorry we woke you. This place kind of echoes.”

My dad rolled his eyes at David. I fumed silently. “Can we ask the aliens for coffee?”

“Coffee? It’s after noon,” David noted, peering at his watch.

“And?” I grumbled. “Doesn’t look like we got anywhere to go.”

“Can we ask the aliens for a shower? How about a change of clothes?” Naomi said.

“Cable TV, please,” my dad mumbled. It was my turn to roll my eyes.

Naomi handed me a sheet of paper with a list of food and supplies on it. “Add Bruce’s supplies and medication. While you were sleeping, we figured we’d attempt to make a list of demands.”

I did as I was told, making sure to add food and supplies for Simon, too. A few minutes later, as we sat in a circle and yawned, an explosive bang echoed, coming from outside. A crashing sound followed. An image of boulders colliding with the shriek of metal support beams traveled through my mind. The walls and ground surrounding us shook, and we exchanged wide-eyed glances. Simon jumped up, hissing and arching his back. I wrapped an arm around him. The lights above our heads flickered off with a resounding, electrical fizzle.

“Earthquake?” Naomi asked.

David stood up, shaking his head. “Something exploded and then collapsed. Made us lose power.” He walked to the opposite end of the gym, squinting as he tried to peer up and out of the tiny window perched near the ceiling above my head.

“See anything?” I asked. Kisana, her family, and the other inhabits of our prison joined us. We all stared upward as the rumbling continued. I pulled Simon close, rubbing the bridge of his soft nose as his hisses quieted to distrusting grunts. It felt like we were trapped within a collapsed mine shaft, rocks cascading around us, daring us to escape yet mocking us because they knew we were unable to.

“No.” His voice was strained. “What are their plans for us? Why are they blowing up buildings and electrical poles? Where’s the rest of the city’s population? Where’s my family?”

No one had any answers for him. As the final collisions of the demolition sounded, we listened as silence replaced the ominous rumbling. Naomi sighed and lit her two tiny candles. The single boarded window wasn’t enough to let us see much of anything, even during the day.

David kept his gaze focused anxiously at the distant window, but it didn’t offer any answers either. Julie ran to him and hugged his knees.

“Daddy,” she said, “you have me!”

His gaze softened as he knelt and wrapped his arms around his daughter. “That I do, pumpkin. That I do.”

Naomi cleared her throat and stood up, facing everyone. “We need to be strong,” she said. “Let’s think on the here and now, not what’s going on outside that window.”

I stared straight ahead, focusing my vision on a single discolored tile halfway up the wall. I could almost smell the scent of decimated concrete and wood, even though it was unlikely the dust had penetrated our building. I sank my fingers into Simon’s fur, letting his familiar warmth seep into my skin.

Bruce stood up and shuffled toward me. “Sam,” he said, “I don’t feel so good.” He leaned heavily on a nearby bench.

“Dad!” I exclaimed, turning away from my tile. “Why are you up? Sit down!”

He obliged, and I reluctantly let go of Simon to get my father some juice. I also took the time to relieve myself and fix Simon’s papier-mâché litter box disaster. As I was returning, the overhead lights flickered and buzzed on again.

The intercom box crackled. People whispered amongst themselves. I brought Bruce his juice and took a seat between Naomi and my dad, grabbing a hold of Simon, who by now was calm except for his swiveling tail.

“Do you re-quire sus-ten-ance?” the intercom asked. The voice sounded the same as it had the night before.

“We do!” Naomi said loudly. “We have a list of demands, if you can read English! We have a member among us that needs very specific medical drugs and equipment! Before that, however, we have a few questions. We have a right to know what’s happening to us, and the world around us!” She quickly blew out the candles near us.

The intercom crackled in response. “You are tem-po-rary res-i-dents here. Soon, you will be re-un-ited with your fam-i-lies.” I had to concentrate to understand the words that each languid syllable formed.

Naomi took a deep breath. “Yes, but why are we here? What are you doing to the rest of our planet? You’re toppling buildings? What is it you want?”

“We sim-ply wish to stu-dy your civ-il-iz-a-tion. You will be safe if you res-pect that.” The intercom crackled some more. “You have a list? We have re-searched your writ-ten lan-guage ad-e-quat-el-y.”

“Yes. What about the medications and supplies?”

“What-e-ver you need, we will do our best.”

“What about our phones?” David asked. “I need to get in contact with my wife!”

“Elec-tron-ic sig-nals and sat-ell-ites have been dis-ab-led for now. We know who your fam-i-lies are, due to gen-et-ic mark-ings. They will be brought here soon.”

“And what building did you just destroy?” David asked the question through clenched teeth.

“Noth-ing of your con-cern. We are on-ly test-ing your arch-i-tect-ure.”

“Are there more of you in other states, other countries?” Naomi asked.

“Yes. We have stat-ions all o-ver.”

“Are the people safe there?”

“Yes. Please, place the list by the sup-ply hatch. That is all.” The intercom crackled again then shut off.

Naomi sighed and looked at David and me. She kept her voice low. “Think we can trust what they’re telling us?”

“Difficult question,” David mused. “Their machines caused injury to some of us when they brought us here. If they were intent on merely studying us, why did they see the need to capture us like animals? Why not study us in our natural habitat, watch us on the streets, interacting, living normal lives? Surely they have some type of cloaking device.”

“I think you’ve seen too many sci-fi films,” Naomi said.

“No, I actually agree with him,” I said. “It just doesn’t add up. Why would they go through all this effort to watch us squabble and socialize? Why blow up buildings when a simple scanner could tell them about our building materials? At the same time…” I paused, chewing my lip thoughtfully. “I don’t think I would have gotten nearly as hurt if I hadn’t struggled.”

David grimaced. “Well, that’s lesson one for our intrepid intruders. Humans fight for survival.” He looked up suddenly, a glimmer appearing in his eyes.

“Maybe this doesn’t take any effort for them. Maybe this is like a weekend romp to their species. Vacation in the Hamptons.” He started pacing the length of the gym.

An image of a Roswell alien in a straw hat waltzed through my mind. “So, do we trust them or not?”

“The real issue is, I don’t think we can afford not to trust them right now,” Naomi said, frowning. “Not while our families are still out there.”

“I think we should just do as they say,” my dad added. “Some of us aren’t in any position to fight even if we wanted to.”

“You guys do realize they’re watching us at this very moment, right?” David said between strides. “Somehow. They’ve gotta have tiny cameras and microphones all over this room; otherwise, what’s the point in observing?”

Naomi shook her head. “And tell me how that matters, David. I’m not asking for your latest theories and relativities. I’m asking if we should trust them.”

He stopped pacing and faced her directly. “Yes. I think we should. We need to learn whatever we can.” He pivoted on his feet and resumed pacing.

Naomi turned to me, sighing. I wasn’t sure what to say. As David paced back and forth, I concentrated on the silkiness of Simon’s fur beneath my fingers. From behind us, Julie and a little Chinese boy were playing with a rubber ball the boy had stowed away in his pocket. We listened to the ka-thump, ka-thump, ka-thump of the bouncing ball.

On David’s next pass, he stopped in front of us again. “If only I could get a hold of some of that alien metal…”

“What do you mean?” Naomi asked.

“I work in a metal processing plant. Well, in the office building of one at least. I might be able to discern something about the material, at least tell if it’s made from a familiar element.”

She groaned. “And how will that help?”

Naomi seemed like such a patient woman. I was surprised to see how quickly she was losing her patience with David. Bruce sensed it too and scooted next to me to hear us better.

“I’m not sure,” David admitted. “I’m just curious. I feel like I can’t just stand around and do nothing.” He continued pacing.

“I know exactly what you mean,” Bruce said.

I turned to him. “What are you talking about, Dad? You can barely stand up, let alone do something.”

“Come on, Sam,” he muttered. “I’m still a man.”

Somehow, I knew a response like that would sneak out of his mouth. “And by that you mean what exactly?” My eyes narrowed in his direction.

“We feel trapped here. Like rodents. Our freedom was taken away. David’s a young man; this doesn’t sit well with him.” Bruce said it matter-of-factly. Like that explained everything. “It affects us men differently.”

“Yeah, because you know, us girls, we don’t care,” I said in a loud, sarcastic voice. “We like being cooped up. It’s totally awesome. We’re just supposed to sit around the house anyway.” I glared at him.

“Sam, please,” my dad muttered, hanging his head in his hands. “It’s just that, you know, you womenfolk are more passive…”

I stood up, ignoring the pain in my shoulder and the fact that the entire room could hear me. Simon tensed within my arms. “Really, Dad? You’re going to go into this now? It’s no different for any of us. We all fucking hate being here, hate being cooped up, and hate being away from people who actually care about us! Gender doesn’t have a goddamn thing to do with it!”

“I-I didn’t mean you liked it here,” Bruce stammered.

I stopped him before he could continue. “Just because my mom let you get away with this shit doesn’t mean I will.”

Naomi put a comforting hand on my shoulder. “We’re all stressed right now. Let’s just take it easy.”

“Oh, sorry for embarrassing everyone!” I shouted, challenging everyone to dare agree with my father. “Golly gee, I better go find a kitchen to sit around in. I know! Let’s ask the aliens for one! We womenfolk can cook for everyone, even the aliens!” I shot one last glowering look at him and stormed off, still clutching Simon tightly to my chest. The cat meowed woefully, probably wondering what the heck was wrong with me.

Bruce didn’t try and say anything else. His jaw shook at me, his face pale with crimson blotches of embarrassment.

Naomi tried to coax me back. “Sam! Come back here!”

I brushed her away, and stormed around the room for a few minutes, unable to really get far from them. They both watched me still. I sighed, loosening my grasp on Simon somewhat. Where’s the fucking fog and night air when I need it? I gave up and slouched down to the ground against a wall, sitting cross-legged among the dust piles.

Simon stared up at me with eyes wide open and twitching ears. “Sorry, baby,” I mumbled, smoothing out the unevenness in his fur caused from my outburst. He remained in my lap and began grooming himself, unsatisfied with my technique.

Nearby, Kisana was reading with her family. They had a couple of photographs in frames near them along with a small pile of books. I was surprised I hadn’t disturbed their reading with my tantrum.

I also realized I was jealous. Why the hell didn’t I grab any books or pictures? I barely had time to worry about Bruce and my cat. Didn’t have time to grab his goddamn medication, let alone books, blankets, or photographs.

I slumped farther down the wall. I wasn’t married, didn’t have a kid, didn’t even want a kid, yet I’d spent the last fifteen years of my life worrying about everyone else.

My mother had gone blind when I was twelve. That was during the years when our living room permanently smelled like sour whiskey and the salt from sunflower seeds—my father’s favorite drinking snack. On the weekends, I used to wake to the TV flashing scrambled lines down the hallway and my father snoring in a puddle of spilled booze. His pants off, the TV muted. He had been too cheap to pay extra for Playboy, but that didn’t stop him from catching glimpses of bare breasts between grey lines.

My mother’s deteriorating vision had done nothing to slow his alcoholism, and during a time when she needed his support the most, he’d pushed her away with the shake of a drinking glass. He had still expected her to cook, clean, do the laundry, and hang it outside along the rickety clothesline. All while learning how to live without sight. He’d seized control of the bank accounts and told her we couldn’t afford a dryer.

Sara had done the best she could, through the tears and whiskey. She’d fought clouds of depression, and I think the only reason she had found her way through the smog was because I had stepped up and told her I’d become her eyes. Together, we had managed our finances, and finally bought a dryer. We’d muddled through life, me in my early teens, and Bruce had continued being, well, Bruce. Eventually my mom couldn’t take it anymore and had divorced him. After the divorce, he’d stopped drinking. Go figure.

As her health worsened through the years, she and I had continued muddling, making do. I had cooked and cleaned even though I wasn’t very good at either. I’d gone off to college, where she would send me these care packages full of candies and treats she knew I liked, plus little stuffed animals. We’d talk every Friday on the phone for hours. She had started calling me Jellybean.

After I had graduated, I came home to find her in terrible health. Her diabetes was out of control. She’d been diagnosed with a myeloproliferative disorder that required frequent blood transfusions and was showing signs of emphysema. Her overall mobility had plummeted due to the snowball of medical conditions quickly forming an avalanche within her body. The help she had gotten while I was gone was piss-poor, and I had to evict them from her house. It had been too late to stop the avalanche by that time.

As much as I wanted to forget about all the crap Bruce put my mother through, I couldn’t. I was reminded of it every time I looked at my father. It didn’t make it better that he quit drinking after the damage was done. It didn’t make it better that my mother was able to forgive him years later, and they actually had become friends again. I didn’t know what would make it better, but him saying ancient, sexist crap always brought it back like a train roaring through a darkened tunnel.

I finally raised my gaze from Kisana and her family. Across the room, David and Naomi hovered near the newly-coined drink station and the metal hatch in the wall. Naomi lay down the list. The two stepped away from the area, and then waited for the plate to open. David still had that weird, intense expression on his face. The metal plate scraped open, but I didn’t make a move to join them. They can handle it.

The silver arm creeping out from the hatch sent a shudder running through me. I was reminded of the similar, larger arm that had ripped into my back and pulled me away from my world. It was hard to believe that we still hadn’t seen the creatures that controlled these devices. The arm that my eyes were glued to looked more like a creature than an inanimate object as it snaked out and carefully plucked up the piece of paper. Four finger-like appendages gleamed in the lighting above us.

I was watching the mechanical arm so intently, I didn’t notice that David held a walking cane in his hands. Naomi was tending to the elderly woman nearby, her back turned. David was frozen in place as his eyes shone with the same intense glint as the metal he aimed to strike down upon. He held the cane above the arm, raising it upward. Ready to strike.

I gasped and leaped up, dumping Simon to the floor. At that exact moment the cane struck downward onto the arm’s metal tubing.

Chapter 6

“David, no!” My voice rang across the gym uselessly as a sickening thwack sounded. The mechanical arm let loose a whirr, as if something might have broken, and then it recovered in a split second. A large metal-barbed cone opened up around its tubing, and the barbs cut into David’s wrist and arm. Blood splattered. David screamed. Julie screamed. The metal creature quickly recoiled and retreated back into the hole, the metal plate snapping into place.

David collapsed to the floor and Naomi ran to him, screaming. “What the hell did you think that would accomplish? You heard what they said about us respecting them!” She ran to get what few remaining gauze pads she had, and then tried to wrap up his arm.

Julie was sobbing into the arms of the elderly woman, who was keeping her busy on the opposite end of the room.

Simon growled and darted to the other side of the gym. I mouthed the poor cat a silent apology while clenching my jaw and made my way to David and Naomi.

Blood was still gushing out of David. “Dammit, we gotta stop this bleeding,” Naomi muttered. David lay in a pitiful heap, teeth clenched, and eyes avoiding ours. I couldn’t tell if he was angrier with himself for being so stupid or the aliens for counteracting his violence as though he was a mere fly buzzing around annoyingly.

“Seriously, why the hell did you do that?” I asked him, kneeling down to meet his pained expression. “You just told us we should trust them.”

“We should,” he muttered through gritted teeth, “but that doesn’t mean we don’t take chances. Life’s too short to stop taking chances.”

Naomi glared at him as she held the gauze in place, attempting to staunch the bleeding. “Take chances?” she said. “How on Earth does pissing them off equate to taking chances?”

“I needed to see how resilient their devices are,” he said, gripping Naomi’s arm with his free hand. “If there’s any chance we could—”

“We could, what?” Naomi said, cutting him off. “We could smash the aliens into bits using our mighty sticks, blankets, and water jugs? We trusted you, David.”

“Pull yourself together,” I said, my voice almost a whisper. I didn’t want his daughter to hear our conversation. She needed his strength.

David finally looked up and met Naomi’s disappointed gaze. The gleam in his eyes flickered out as reality set in. “I’m sorry. I had to know what we’re up against.” He grabbed a paper towel and tried to wipe the blood from his face. “Now, I know.”

David inhaled deeply, attempting to gather his senses. “If this changes anything about the way we’re being treated, I hold myself fully responsible.” He looked around the room, meeting the stares from various onlookers. “Julie, come here, pumpkin.”

The elderly woman with gray, bushy hair who was holding Julie gave him a wary glance. “It’s okay, Marge, the bleeding is under control,” David said to her. She let Julie go, and the little girl ran into David’s arms.

I stood up, and sat on the bench near my father. I had almost forgot how pissed off I was at Bruce. He tossed me a pitiful look, reminding me. What I’d give for a second room in this joint. An outside balcony, something.

As Naomi tossed me an unsure look, the intercom crackled to life again. We collectively held our breaths.

“You have dis-ap-poin-ted us,” it rang out. The voice had a very superior tone to it. It thinks itself better than us. Rather, they think themselves better than us. “But as you can see, we have tak-en pre-caut-ions for such be-hav-ior.”

“Can you really blame us for fighting back?” I said, surprising myself by the strong tone of my voice. I was disappointed with David, sure, but I still understand where he was coming from. We did need to know the extent of their abilities.

“Surely you’ve studied our emotions,” I continued. “We enjoy an independent lifestyle. You’re treating us like livestock.”

“Per-haps.” There was a pause in the voice. The intercom rustled with static. Are they quietly discussing what I said or planning to do away with us?

“We will give you your sup-plies,” the voice finally answered. “This way you will have no reas-on to fight us. We have prom-ised your free-dom. Please stay here un-til then.”

“Not that we have a choice,” Bruce muttered.

The voice ignored him. “Are the male’s wounds min-or?”

I assumed it meant David’s. David shook his head and showed me where the blood was seeping through the gauze. “He needs…a couple stitches, I think,” I guessed. “None of us are doctors here.”

“One sec-ond. Please place his arm by the plate when we op-en it.”

“What?” David’s eyes widened. “What are you going to do to it?”

“We will fuse the skin to-geth-er. It will heal fast-er than thread stitch-es.”

David shot me a nervous glance.

“Trust us,” the voice said. The intercom crackled and shut off. A moment later, the plate scraped open. The mechanical arm poked out of its hole. One of its appendages resembling a finger unsheathed itself, revealing a blue laser-like device.

“I…” David mumbled.

“Come on,” I said. “This’ll show us if we can really trust them. Besides, think of the bragging rights you’ll have years from now when you tell this story to your sci-fi book club.”

He stood up slowly, ushering Julie over to Marge again. He nodded to me, and I gave him a weak smile. The curious gleam was starting to creep back into his eyes again.

David approached the device and slowly sank to his knees in front of it, folding away the gauze. The blue line intensified, and encased his entire arm inside a blue sheen. David winced and made a fist like he was in pain but didn’t shout out. When the mechanical arm finished, it sheathed the light tool and then instantly retreated back into the wall. David stood up, flexing his arm. I joined him, peering at the wound.

It was gone. Completely. All that was left was a minor scar, about the size of a paper cut. David waggled his fingers and stared at it in amazement. “That’s some…stuff,” he muttered.

The intercom crackled on again. “See?”

“Th-Thank you,” David mumbled, still poking his arm in disbelief.

“We will get you these sup-plies.” The voice clicked off again.

We breathed a collective sigh of relief. Julie ran into David’s arms, and Simon appeared at my feet, hesitantly rubbing against me. I was apparently forgiven for dumping him off my lap.

The group dispersed as David and Julie talked amongst themselves in low voices. How is he going to explain this to his little girl? He’d figure something out. I imagined that he must be feeling an odd mixture of anger, embarrassment, fear, and unexpected gratitude.

My dad stood up and shuffled to his blanket, where he sat down on the ground, breathing heavily. His pale face shone with the sheen of sweat. His weakened system needed more than juice.

Naomi ushered me over to the drink station bench. I joined her and had a seat. “Do you think David will do something like that again?” she asked.

“I don’t. I think he got all of his…battle tactics out of his system.”

“Let’s hope so. I can’t believe he did such a stupid thing, having a daughter here with him.”

I shrugged. “He’s kind of eccentric. But a good man at his core.”

She sighed and then raised an eyebrow at me. “You know, I’d almost say the same thing about your father, but I know there’s more to it. Did you two talk things out after your storming off?”

I frowned and shook my head. “Nah, if I’m lucky he’ll give me a two-word apology later, but I kinda doubt it. He doesn’t know what he said that upset me.”

“He’s just old-fashioned.”

I peered at her curiously, surprised at her reception. “You picked up on that?” Simon wandered over, rubbing up against me. I frowned down at the cat. “I know. You’re hungry. Soon we’ll have food…I hope.” I grabbed him and set him on my lap. He settled down and began purring.

“His age gives it away, and how he treats you. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was racist.” Naomi’s gaze sought the solace of the dusty floor suddenly.

“No,” I said. “He’s not. Just homophobic.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It could be worse,” I admitted, shrugging. “He still loves me, just not my potential significant others. I can live with that.”

“But you shouldn’t have to.”

“I agree with that completely.” I tried to focus on running my hands through Simon’s soft fur rather than the ache seeping into my heart. The ache had strings attached that toted along pieces of loneliness and the desire for acceptance like little tugboats. “There’s just not a lot I can do about it. He needs me.”

“Don’t take offense to this, but have you ever thought about placing him in a home?”

“More than once. As long as he still has his senses about him, he wouldn’t stand for it.”

“Sometimes we don’t have that choice.”

“I guess the problem is that I have a choice. And he has no one else.”

“You’re strong, Sam.”

I shrugged again. “I don’t feel it.”

She put an arm around me. With her other, she fished around in her bag and pulled out two miniature chocolate bars. Smiling, she handed me one.

I returned the smile, taking the chocolate and unwrapping it. They were the tiny bars people gave out on Halloween. “Why on Earth did you think to grab these?”

“I didn’t,” she laughed. “They were just in there from my dieting days. I kept chocolate stashes around the house. You know, for emergencies.” She grinned.

She wasn’t what I’d call overweight, just a little soft around the edges. I was glad she wasn’t dieting anymore. Women who dieted weren’t nearly as fun as those who just tried to be happy for who they were. I wasn’t exactly pencil-thin either, more broad-shouldered and thick-limbed than anything. Sturdy. My lack of height made me look heavier than I really was, I supposed. I returned the grin and munched. “What else you got in there I don’t know about?”

“Well, there’s this.” She finished her chocolate and pulled out a small metal garden trowel with a green handle.

I raised an eyebrow at her.

“This wasn’t in my earthquake kit either. I carried it outside when I first heard the UFO land.” She chuckled. “I had been pruning my indoor herb garden, repotting one of my thyme plants. And I just ran out, hanging onto this damn thing for dear life, scared shitless. When I went back to grab my bag, I kept hauling it around. And look, it made it all the way here!”

I laughed. “That’s great. That reminds me of the earthquake we had in…What year was it…ninety-four?”

“Oh, down south? Northridge?”

“Yeah, we were living in the valley back then. I was in middle school, and my parents were still together. It was at like, four in the morning. My dad had gotten up for work. So he was in the shower, and my mom was making his lunch and wiping down the kitchen counters.”

“See!” she said. “That’s why he’s old-fashioned, with a fantastic wife like your momma! He never let that part of the marriage go.”

“So true.” I frowned, and then decided the story was about my mother, not Bruce. “The earthquake starts. My dad runs out of the shower, somehow manages to throw a robe on, and comes to get me. My bed was in between two bookshelves, and I’m freaking out as books and puzzles are falling on top of my head.”

I paused, taking a breath. “My dad insisted that we run outside, so we made our way to the living room. Our hallway had shelves all along it loaded with vases and breakable stuff, and all that crap was falling on the floor, shattering.”

Naomi grinned. “Hallway of doom.”

I returned the grin and continued. “My mom freaked out because I cut my foot, yet somehow we made it outside. When the shaking had finally stopped, my mom held up a sponge. We asked her why she had been clutching a sponge, and she told us that was what she had happened to be holding, and had just held it the entire time. She was all, ‘I wish I had my cigarettes and not this stupid sponge!’”

Naomi burst into laughter, and I joined her. “Damn, that sounds just like me,” she said.

“Exactly! Just think, years down the road you’ll be telling your grandkids about how the aliens held you captive in a goddamn school gymnasium, and all you had was your stupid gardening trowel!”

“Oh man.” Naomi was laughing so hard she had to hold her stomach. “Thank you, Sam. I needed that!”

I smiled. “I think you would have liked my mom.”

“I’m sure I would have. But I see a pretty good view of her anyway, through you.” She beamed down at me, and I suddenly felt bashful. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think since we have some quiet time, I’m going to take a nap.” She stood up, stretched, and went to her blanket, tossing me one last smile.

“That sounds like a really good idea.” I dragged Simon with me to my dad’s blanket and fell into an exhausted sleep.

I awoke this time to my dad hovering directly above me. “Sam, wake up!”

“God dammit!” I yelled, startled. “Can’t you find another way to get me up?”

“I tried. You couldn’t hear me.”

“That’s because I was finally sound asleep!”

“But you need to feed me.”

I sighed. Of course. “And just how am I supposed to manage…oh.” My gaze fell on the huge cardboard box of supplies in the center of our room before I could finish the thought. “Wow, I must have been out of it. I didn’t even hear them deliver that.” I stood up, wincing. “What time is it?” I asked in a mumble. “And was there any trouble with them giving us this stuff, considering…Well, you know.”

“After six p.m. And no, no issues.”

“No wonder you’re hungry. So am I. Wonder what the hell they got us.” I journeyed over to the giant box, peeking inside. Must have been a refrigerator box or something. It was barely short enough for me to climb into. David was already inside it, grabbing cans of fruit and loaves of bread, handing them to the people standing outside.

Naomi was checking her list with the contents David was pulling out. “Canned fruit, bread, peanut butter, tuna fish, cereal, oatmeal, crackers, cookies, cat food, evaporated milk, coffee, juice, water, beef jerky…”

“Coffee?” My ears perked up. “How are we supposed to heat water?”

“Camp stove!” David pointed to where he had placed it on our drink station bench.

“Nice. Now all we need is a campfire and some weenies to roast. And tents, for some sort of privacy.” I glared at my father, who refused to meet my gaze.

“We thought of that already,” David said. He pointed to a stack of pup tents near the box. There were about five cots too. “Those are for the elderly,” he added, noticing I had been eyeing them. “We also got blankets. One per person. And two commode chairs and a litter pan. They’ve agreed to dispose of our waste.”

“Cool, cool,” I said, stifling a yawn. “Didn’t ask for a baby fridge? A shower-in-a-bag?”

“No, our list was huge enough,” Naomi said with a smile. “Next time I figure.” She joined me on the other side of the box. “We got paper plates, napkins, more cups, silverware, toilet paper, cat litter, and even some battery-operated lanterns for nighttime. A couple board games for the kids. Looks like they got everything.” She looked relieved.

Simon rubbed up against me, meowing. I grabbed a can of cat food from David’s pile and fed him on a paper plate. He dived in hungrily, purring his thanks.

David pointed to a small pile of boxes. “For your dad.”

“Oh, good.” I pawed through the boxes. All four of his medications were there, as well as a blood glucose monitor and test strips. I wasn’t entirely sure the milligrams were correct, but Bruce would know, and I could cut the pills if need be. There was a box of his formula and the plastic syringes I needed. I gathered up everything, a cup of water, a knife and spoon to grind up the pills, and took my dad to our bench. “Wonder where they got all this,” I said.

Bruce shrugged. “Must be smart shoppers.”

He sat down and gave me a set of almost-apologetic looks as I configured the glucose monitor, tested his sugar, and started measuring out pills. I ignored his droopy gazes, and asked him about the medication. He had it all memorized. I ground up his pills without saying anything to him. He could tell I was angry but wasn’t sure how to respond.

I hated grinding up pills. I hated feeding him. I’d done it for months now, ever since his arms became too shaky to hold the syringe in place, but I still hated how long the entire process took and how many times a day I had to do it. At home I usually watched TV while feeding him. It took about half an hour each time, four times a day, more if his current medication list was complicated.

I sighed and set up his feeding. The formula had to drain down the syringe, down the tube, and into his stomach.

“How long do you think we’ll be in here?” he asked me. He was tired of the silence, I supposed.

“You know just as well as I do, Dad. They haven’t told us.”

His head jerked in tremors as he struggled to find more conversation for us. He came up empty-handed.

“I told Naomi about how Mom carried around that sponge after the Northridge quake,” I told him, realizing that if I didn’t think of something to talk about, I risked falling asleep standing. “Naomi ended up carrying a garden trowel here in the same fashion.”

A weak smile appeared on his pale, dry features. His dentures hadn’t been in when we were captured, and his smile showed some of his gums. “I remember that,” he said. “We told that story for years.”

“It’s a good one.”

Bruce suddenly pointed to a small stack of books on the bench. I pawed through them with my free hand, giving him a confused look.

He cleared his throat. “I uh, knew you’d want something to do around here,” he said quietly. “I wasn’t sure about titles, and you were sleeping, so I told David to suggest a few.”

I smiled at Bruce as I reviewed the books. Yeah, sci-fi would do. I’d read two of them before, but they were worth rereading. Three of them were new to me. “Thanks, Dad, these will do just fine.”

“I asked for some myself. Figured I may as well try and read again, if my eyes can handle it.” He pointed to a small stack of non-fiction books near his blanket. He refused to read fiction. Before he became sick, he loved to read, but the sicker he got, the harder it was for his eyes and brain to focus on the pages. Eventually, he gave up reading. I was glad he had decided to try it again. Not that he had a choice here, without a TV.

“Nice. What did you get, Spanish?” He had tried for years to teach himself how to speak and write Spanish after the divorce. He got about halfway through, and then gave up. I used to tease him about finding a cute senorita to woo in her own language.

After Spanish, he tried philosophy and psychology. He had liked to take my old college textbooks. Too cheap to buy his own books, really. But I was always happy to fuel any type of reading adventure. In those days, he and I were always in bookstores. He’d always been cheap with his money, and spent a ridiculous amount on his booze collection, but somehow every time we entered a bookstore, he’d buy us each a book.

“One. And two psychology books.”

“Sounds good. I’ll have to borrow those if I run out.”

He hadn’t apologized exactly, but sometimes gestures like this were better than apologies.

“I’m sorry for being angry,” I told him.

He shrugged. “Tensions are high. It’s understandable. I’m sorry too, Sam. I wasn’t feeling good.” He gazed up at me, searching my face for a sign of forgiveness.

I gave him a tight-lipped smile in return, hoping that would satisfy him. It wasn’t easy to forgive him. He may not have meant for his words to come out as harshly as they had, but that didn’t change the way he felt.

Chapter 7

“I can’t believe they’re not allowing us the use of electricity,” David grumbled, shoving his coffee cup and science fiction novel away from him as he stretched out beneath our latest hideout. It wasn’t a hideout at all really, just a section of dust-free floor in front of the double doors. David and I had realized that it was the one place no one else would occupy in fear of the aliens’ return. We met there every day and talked about what books we were reading and his latest theories about what would be our eventual future.

“It doesn’t make sense,” I agreed. “The ventilation system still works, and we have these overhead lights. What gives?”

“They’ve got something planned,” he mused. “Maybe they’re storing energy to bring back to their home planet.”

I shrugged. “Possibly. I’m just glad it has been relatively quiet. Besides, of course, your recent outburst to them about electricity.” I tossed him a glare.

“Hey, if they give us back our cell phones, electricity, and running water, I’ll stop bitching. Bathing in a lukewarm tub isn’t my idea of a hot shower.”

He had a point. We had to ask for a metal tub to bathe in, along with an ice chest for cold food and some changes of clothes. The aliens didn’t have much of a fashion sense, and we received a pile of green and magenta sweats, jeans in various sizes, and football T-shirts. We made do. We still weren’t sure where they got everything. I think we all assumed they were just stealing shit from the grocery stores that had been abandoned.

I raised an eyebrow at David. “I heard you asking for firearms.”

He smiled. “I thought it was worth a shot. I tried all sorts of bladed weaponry too, and grenades. Nunchucks. The aliens know what all of it’s really used for.”

I laughed. “Too bad.”

It was hard to keep track of the time passing. It’d been at least two weeks now since our capture. We longed for fresh air. Naomi made a calendar out of cardboard and hung it on a wall, so we could mark the passing of the days. She had Julie and Han draw pictures on the appropriate square every night as our overheard lights were powered off. Yesterday, Julie drew a bright, shining sun, complete with a happy face and sunglasses.

“Think we’ll ever see that sun again?” David had asked.

Julie nodded fervently in response.

“All we can do is keep on hoping,” Naomi whispered.

We tried to keep the atmosphere positive, but it was difficult. So many of us were complete strangers to one another. Some people had begun to sleep in shifts to avoid others. Late at night, it really did look like we were camping out. Our little pup tents were spread as far apart as we could manage, each of them glowing with the dull shines from our lanterns.

“You and Bruce getting along better these days?” David asked.

I shook my head. “We avoid each other when we can get away with it. I hadn’t realized how dependent we’d become on the television and the walls of the house to separate us until we were stuck here.”

“I know what you mean,” he said, grimacing. “Julie and I are closer now than ever before. I don’t know how I managed to ignore her. It makes me feel like a terrible parent.”

“Nah. Nothing comes easily. Main thing is you’ve got it figured out now.” I touched his shoulder reassuringly.

In the distance, Marge started reading aloud to my father. “Bruce and Marge seem to be getting pretty chummy, though.” She was a sweet old lady, older than my dad, but in better health. She was a widow, didn’t have any children, and seemed as lonely as my father. It was a match made in heaven. Ironically, she was the same old lady my dad fell on the night we first arrived.

“Bet that makes you happy.”

“Oh, yeah. The only bad thing is that Marge and Naomi are on different time tables now.”

“Yeah. Naomi sleeps during the day now. What were they fighting about?”

I shook my head. “I don’t even know. Some stupid kitchen organization issue, I’m sure. You know old ladies and their kitchens. Not that Naomi’s old, of course.”

David grinned. “My grandma used to chase me out of hers with a wooden spatula. I was addicted to her chocolate chip cookies.”

“Oh man.” I sat up straight. “Freshly-baked cookies sound so good about now.”

“Don’t they?”

“I’m gonna have to see if we have any yucky, packaged cookies. I’ll be back.”

I wandered over to the food station. What started out as a single bench with a water jug had evolved into a pantry of sorts made out of cardboard boxes and two benches. Everything was neatly arranged, mostly thanks to Marge, who flittered around in her spare time, trying to clean whatever she could get her hands on. I puttered around in the food boxes and bags, unsatisfied. No cookies.

Giving up, I poured myself a bowl of cereal. As I set the box down, I accidentally bonked it, and it fell to the floor, spilling Froot Loops all over the place. I sighed. Maybe I could pretend like it was one of the young kids. I checked to make sure no one was watching, and then kicked the colorful rings under the bench, where they weren’t so easily noticeable. There. I stood back, satisfied with my work.

I’d just left the pantry and was munching on a few stray Froot Loops that had ended up on my magenta sweatshirt when the intercom clicked on. I blinked, confused. They generally talked to us in the morning or afternoon hours. Never after dark.

“We have an an-ounce-ment,” the intercom blared out. It was louder than usual, and Naomi and the others who had been sleeping stirred awake, shaking the walls of their tiny tents as they sat up. Simon popped out of my tent and ran to me, hiding behind my legs.

I sat down gingerly on the edge of a nearby bench, taking a deep breath. I scratched Simon’s ears, attempting to calm him. Naomi popped her head out of her tent, her hair wild and her eyes wide.

“As prom-ised, we have found some of your fam-i-ly. They will be del-i-vered here a-long with oth-er cit-i-zens.”

“Wait, what?” Naomi asked, confusion covering the sleepiness in her voice. “How many other citizens? It’s damn crowded here already!”

“On-ly three oth-ers and your fam-i-lies. We had no oth-er place for them. Please acc-omm-o-date eve-ry-one.”

“About time!” David whooped, racing past me to share the good news with Julie. A grin filled his entire face.

The voice clicked off again, and Naomi shared an annoyed glance with me. I sat down on the ground near her tent, munching on my cereal along the way. Simon followed me and made himself at home on a pile of towels Naomi kept next to her tent. “What the hell are they thinking?” she grumbled. “We get into enough squabbles as it is! This place is too damn small!”

“It is,” I agreed, “but at least you’ll have your grandson and daughter.”

She smiled despite herself. “Yeah, you’re right. Let’s get ready for them, guys!” She called the last part out to the entire room, and any remaining sliver of annoyance on her face vanished with the thought of seeing her grandson, Charles.

Marge started flittering about, straightening up. Bruce watched her every move. Julie bounced across the entire gym’s length, happy about being able to see her mother and sister again. The little Chinese boy, Han, bounced along with her.

We all froze in place when an ominous banging sound thundered outside the double doors. Simon dived into my lap, spraying towels and Froot Loops everywhere. We turned and watched as the doors were forced open from the outside. They sounded like they were breaking in half.

As soon as the two doors cracked open, the nose of one of the hovercrafts entered our room, its spotlight glaring yellow. The pale blue lights of the hover discs bounced off the silver beast and onto the smooth gym floor. I shivered at the memory of being trapped in its steel belly. The jaws opened, and a pile of screaming and moaning people tumbled out. The machine snapped its metal jaws together and retreated back out the door.

I tried to steal a glimpse of the world outside before the doors were resealed but couldn’t see anything except darkness. The fog must have not rolled onto the streets yet. The doors slammed shut with a resonating slam, and the sound of a whirring machine was audible from the other side. The noise was subtle, reminding me of a dull electronic sander. That must be what they use to seal everything.

I turned my attention to the newcomers. Marge, Naomi, David, Julie, and most everyone else except my father and I were crowded around them. I stayed on the ground by Naomi’s tent and held Simon against my chest with my free arm. There wasn’t much of a point in me getting up. I didn’t know anyone.

Naomi embraced her grandson, Charles, who looked to be around five. The boy sobbed into his grandmother’s arms. His mother, Donna, stood nearby, looking exhausted yet relieved. She looked to be in her mid-thirties, and shared many of Naomi’s strong features. Her hair was kept tight in an attractive bun. How the heck did she manage to keep that bun in place?

Two other families were caught in embraces. Kisana’s family embraced a young man. It was nice that some of our quieter residents now had their families with them. Two of the newcomers looked to be a middle-aged man and wife who both looked frightened, but glad to find fellow human beings greeting them instead of aliens.

“What the hell is this, a fucking Oprah marathon?” A young man stormed from the throng of people and into my direct line of sight. Matt. A very pissed off Matt. His shirt looked like it was torn, and dried blood caked it from every angle. It looked like I wasn’t the only one who had struggled against the machine.

Naomi flipped around at the sound of his voice, still clutching Charles. Her eyes narrowed. “Who the hell are you, boy? Don’t you see we’re visiting with family we haven’t seen in more than two weeks? Where the hell’s your family?”

Donna dropped her head in embarrassment. “Please, Mom, you’re sixty-four, do you really have to use such foul language around Charles?”

Matt stared at Naomi. She was taller than he was, and broader. He’d better watch what he says to her. I allowed myself a tiny grin.

“I uh, don’t know,” Matt said. “They’re all in Denver still. I came to California with friends but ended up moving out of their place. It’s just me.” He shuffled a foot nervously on the floor, then looked directly at me, blinking. “Wow, Sam,” he said. “Nice to see a friendly face…kinda. I was wondering if you got caught.”

“Yep, sadly,” I muttered.

Something was missing. Realization dawned when David stormed past me, fists clenched at his sides. “Where’s my wife and younger daughter?” he shouted. “You said they’d be here!” He stared up at the intercom box, challenging it.

Everyone around us quieted and averted their gazes toward David. Charles stopped sobbing and starting hiccupping instead. Naomi tried to shush him as David’s face grew redder every minute the box stared back stubbornly.

Finally, it clicked on. “Some of the group be-came sep-er-a-ted,” the voice announced. “We will bring them to you in due time.”

David’s mouth dropped open. “Due time? You promised them today, not in due time!”

The voice hesitated before answering. “Due time,” it repeated.

“Can I at least know they’re safe?” David dropped to his knees in desperation.

“Yes. They are safe.”

“Can you show me a monitor where they’re being held? Whatever you use to keep an eye on them? I need to see for my own eyes that they haven’t been harmed.”

“No. You must trust us.”

“I…” David’s voice broke apart as the intercom box clicked off again, and he hung his head low to the ground.

I softly nudged Simon from my lap and placed him back in the disheveled pile of towels. Julie and I approached David, the little girl reaching up to hug his slender, shuddering frame. A silence hung in the air that was only disturbed by the sound of David’s sobs and Charles’s hiccups.

“I need to see them,” David choked.

I laid a hand on his shoulder. “The voice said they’re safe. We have no reason to believe the aliens would lie to us. All we can do is trust them.”

“I hope so,” he whispered, holding Julie tight.

Naomi stepped into the center of the room with Charles still in her arms. “Everyone, listen,” she said. “I know this is an emotional experience for all of us, and I’m sure you new folks have questions. First off, some basics.” She walked to the pantry station. “This here’s our kitchen. Please help yourselves to whatever you want. Clean up after yourselves. If you want special foods write them down on that cardboard by the wall. Chances are we’ll be stuck here a while.”

“A while? What the hell does that mean?” Matt asked, grumbling.

Naomi sighed, and took a seat near the front of the gym. “I’m no good at explaining this stuff, but I’ll try. Take a seat, folks. David, join us, please.” She placed Charles on her lap.

David obliged, wiping his face and Julie’s with his sweater sleeve. He took a seat next to me, and I squeezed his shoulder. Everyone around us followed suit, shuffling forward and sighing as they seated themselves.

“The aliens are saying some sh—stuff about keeping us here. They’re observing us or something,” Naomi said.

“They haven’t told us much,” I added. “We were hoping you guys might know more.”

“We were trapped in that goddamn hunk of junk for a whole day,” Matt said. “Then they threw us in some goddamn storage shed somewhere. We couldn’t tell where we were. It had a bunch of gardening tools and shit in it. Some guy came to talk to us through the window, told us we just needed to hold out for a few more days and we’d see—”

“Wait,” I interrupted him. “Some guy? You mean you actually saw one of them?” David’s body shifted forward next to mine.

“Yeah. Well, sorta. He was an old guy in a dirty wife-beater shirt. He looked like a drunk or something, like he hadn’t shaved or bathed for a month. He was half-bald, and he spoke in a weird, automated voice. He sup-er prou-nounced eve-ry syll-a-ble like this.” He demonstrated. “It was really annoying. We asked if that was his real appearance, and he said it wasn’t.” Matt helped himself to a glass of water.

“Was his appearance generated from some sort of device or hologram?” David asked.

Matt shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t really understand that stuff. He would suddenly become kind of transparent and shine blue. Kinda like Star Trek.”

“Did they bring you food and stuff in that shed?” I asked.

“Yeah, somewhat. Water. Bread, dried meat, and canned shit. Blankets for the old people. A bucket to piss in. It was pretty miserable. Then they picked us up in the goddamn terror-tractor again and dumped us here. They ignored us when we asked what the hell they were doing with us.”

“Did they only bring us here as a request from you guys?” Donna asked.

“Seems like it,” Naomi said. “But why keep us so separated? Wouldn’t it be easier to watch over us if we were together?”

David thumbed his mustache, a gesture he often made when deep in thought. He was mostly back to his curious self. “They’re probably afraid of us retaliating,” he said. “If we had the numbers, it would be easier to fight back. Keep us separate, and we stay afraid.”

“Get enough idiots together, and they can get a lot of shit accomplished,” Matt grumbled as he gulped down his water and refilled the cup. “So why did they listen to your requests and not ours? Did you women pitch a fit or something?” He looked directly at me.

“No!” I raised my voice at him. “We just asked what the hell they were gonna do to us and gave them a list of crap we needed!”

“Well, it was actually a list of demands,” Naomi added. “I wonder if that’s why they thought they had to listen to us. We said we needed our families. So they said they’d bring them.”

“I sure as hell don’t know anybody here, except stupid ol’ Sam,” Matt said.

I glared at him. “What? What the hell did I do to deserve that?”

He chuckled. “I love it when you do that. You get all pissy for no reason. One of these days, you’re gonna start burning bras in front of me. And why the hell are you stuffing your face at a time like this anyway?”

I chose to ignore his commentary, and then realized I was still clutching my damn cereal bowl. The cereal left in it had long since gone soggy. I set it down on the ground for Simon to drink the milk. “Where the hell’s your girlfriend?” I muttered.

He shrugged. “We broke up right before I came in for my shift the night of the attack. That’s why I was drunk.”

“Oh.” My tone softened somewhat. “Wait, attack? How’d you get picked up, anyway? Did they attack anyone with force? For us it was more like…we were swept off our feet, like part of an assembly line.”

“Hell yeah, we were attacked. I was walking home from work when the machine came stomping after us. It went right through Main Street, slamming through cars, killing whoever was in them, to get to those of us who were unlucky enough to be out on the streets.”

I shared a surprised glance with David. “You’re…sure they killed people?” I asked.

“Yes. Why the hell would I lie about that?”

“We figured they were just holding everyone captive,” I said, my voice low. “They just said they wished to observe our civilization.”

“Well, they musta lied.” He crossed his arms in front of him. “Why the hell did you bring your cat?” he added, watching Simon cuddle up to me in appreciation for the fruity-flavored milk.

“Why wouldn’t I bring my cat?”

“You’re so gonna die a fucking lesbo spinster.”

“Guys!” Naomi interjected, growing tired of our bantering. “And watch your language. We got kids here!” She snuck a tiny bar of chocolate out of her bag and handed it to Charles, whose eyes lit up like a Christmas tree as he unwrapped it.

My eyes narrowed in Matt’s direction, and it was quiet for a minute as everyone around us waited for Matt and I to apologize to each other. Wasn’t going to happen.

“Well…” David said finally, “this kind of changes things. You see, we were hoping we could start trusting them. They healed my arm after I hurt it trying to…inspect their machine.” He hesitated as he said the last part. “They’ve been giving us practically everything we’ve wanted, even books, games, and medication. Everything except my loved ones who are still out there.”

Julie hugged him tightly. Feet shuffled around us.

“So what makes us special?” my dad asked. “Why let us live?” He’d been so quiet, I hadn’t realized he was sitting up close with us.

“Fuc—” Matt started, then stopped, sighing. “Fudgesticks? Fudgesticks if I know.” He ran a hand through his spiked blond hair and started pacing.

“I guess we have to ask them, see if we get any answers,” David said.

“In the meantime, let’s introduce ourselves.” Naomi put on a smile for everyone. I guessed it was mostly for Charles, though. He realized something was wrong, as did the other children. We couldn’t exactly hide much from them.

We went around the room, everyone saying a few things about themselves. Naomi introduced herself as the old mother hen figure of sorts. We laughed. Bruce talked about his cancer a little bit, which surprised me. He hadn’t opened up about it to strangers for a while.

David introduced Julie proudly and told us about what he did for a living. “Julie’s mommy,” he said, “is the most patient woman in the world. She puts up with my comic book collection, my G.I. Joe figures, and my movie props. She let me turn our den into my cave of sorts, where I can hide out, paint my props, and listen to bad garage bands.”

I smiled as David finished his introduction. He was definitely back to his normal, geeky self.

When it came to Matt’s turn, he stuffed his hands in his jeans and shuffled around on both feet before speaking. “I guess you all know who I am. I’m Matt. Nineteen. I’m mainly just trying to get by in life. I work at a stupid chicken joint in the downtown area. I cuss a lot. Sorry. I say what I think, even if it’s pretty stupid. I guess you can kinda call me the village idiot.”

“That I can definitely agree with,” I said, grumbling. Of all people, why the hell am I stuck with him?

It was my turn. “I’m Sam,” I said, finding myself embarrassed, which was silly, given that I knew most everyone around me already. “I have a college degree in creative writing which I’ll probably never make use of. I work at the same stupid chicken joint as stupid Matt. I take care of Bruce, my father. I like to read.” David’s talk of movie props and action figures inspired me a bit, and I tacked on an extra detail. “In high school, I was a marching band geek. David’s in good company.”

He gave me a wide grin.

It was Kisana’s father’s turn. He looked around hesitantly. He was a proud man, I could already tell. “My name is Pablo. This is my wife, Marie, and our daughter, Kisana. Our son, Joel, joined us today as well. Thank you, Jesus. Marie and I are from Spain originally. We came here as teenagers. I work at the local community college as a professor.” He smiled at Marie, nodding for her to continue.

“I am Marie,” his wife said. She was soft-spoken, and had long black hair in braids. “I am a housewife. I enjoy making homemade crafts.” Her English was a bit rough around the edges, but still good.

Kisana looked around sheepishly, wearing the same red hoodie that had caught my eye in the candlelight weeks ago. I hadn’t seen much of her these past weeks, mostly due to the fact that I liked to sleep in until after noon and hide away from the rest of our residents. “My name is Kisana. I’m twenty-six. I’m studying to become a chef, even though I think my daddy would rather have me teach.” She glanced up at him warmly, a smile appearing on the edges of her face. “I love him regardless. I enjoy painting and swimming.” She gestured for the next person, Marge, to speak.

I found myself tossing Kisana a warm smile from across the room. Our eyes met for a split second, and she looked down, embarrassed. She must be really shy. Then again, I was embarrassed too. These kinds of introductions were always lame, no matter how young or old you were.

Marge told us about her late husband. She spoke of him fondly. I liked her a little more when she wasn’t flittering about, madly cleaning.

The overhead lights clicked off just as Marge began to tell us about her Friday night bridge parties. We all glanced around the room at the darkness.

“What time is it? Isn’t it still early?” Naomi asked.

“It’s after eight,” David answered, peering at his watch.

“Well, then…” Naomi stood up and started handing out lanterns. One by one we clicked them on. There weren’t enough for every family to have one now. She handed me a couple votive candles and a match, keeping some for herself. “We’ll have to ask for more lanterns tomorrow.” She shared a glance with me. The aliens kept very early hours. Once they turned off our lights, there was no way they’d talk to us. We would have to wait until morning to question them.

Marge started shuffling through boxes of dried food in the pantry. “Anyone hungry?” she asked. “Come help yourselves. Newcomers, families with young children first.”

I guessed our introduction pow-wow was over. Everyone drifted off to their corners or toward the food station, chatting amongst themselves. Bruce joined Marge, David realized he needed to spend some quality time with Julie, and Naomi had her family now. Matt disappeared into a tent after he ate, not that I wanted anything to do with him anyway. Our lanterns flickered around the dark gym like desperate fireflies. Eventually I started feeling sorry for myself and the situation we were in, got tired of that feeling, fed my dad while Marge scurried about, and curled up with Simon and a book.

Chapter 8

The next day, after we gave the aliens our updated supply list, we demanded that they respond to the information Matt had told us. We planned our questions beforehand so we wouldn’t make fools of ourselves, and even made a list if they wanted it in writing. Everyone decided that David, Naomi, and I should act as our council of sorts, and represent us as a group, since we usually did most of the talking. I wasn’t thrilled about that decision. I was a terrible public speaker, and any leading I had done in the past consisted of me saying, “Hi. Do stuff.” Somehow I always found myself in the middle of everything that went on here.

Now we sat on our benches, staring dumbly at the black box, awaiting the reply to a statement Naomi had made.

“We’ve heard reports of your kind killing Earth citizens while your machines were on the streets,” she had stated. Will the aliens be honest or deny the claims completely? I’d considered the possibility again that Matt was lying to us, but I couldn’t find a reason why he would lie about something like that.

Finally, the voice fizzled to life in a veil of static. “It was not some-thing we had antic-i-pat-ed,” the voice rang. It sounded extra loud to me again. Maybe the alien stuck its head closer to the microphone when nervous. If it even got nervous. “Some of our kind did not real-ize there were hum-ans in the veh-ic-les. We ass-umed the veh-ic-les were au-to-mat-ed.”

David looked at us with wide eyes. “How odd,” he muttered. We hadn’t expected an admittance like that.

“That only happ-ened in this ci-ty.”

“And you didn’t have some type of life form scanner to show you that human beings were inside?” David asked.

The intercom crackled loudly as the speaker seemed confused. “No, we do not. We have not had ma-ny en-count-ers with life forms such as yours. Hence the stu-dy.”

“What about the people inside buildings and houses? Did you go inside for them, or did you knock the buildings down?”

“It was ob-vi-ous that such dwell-ings held life forms. Our vehi-cles were ab-le to reach in-side.”

“So it’s quite possible that some people were able to hide?” I asked.

“Per-haps. But they could not have sur-vived the blast.”

“What?” The three of us yelled the word in unison. Everyone near us gasped.

“We re-leased gas-es that are poi-so-nous to your kind and caused an ex-plo-sion.”

“When? Why?” David cried out, his voice wavering.

“A day and night cy-cle af-ter your capt-ure. We could not risk an at-tempt to ret-al-i-ate if an-y-one had sur-vived. You must under-stand our pos-it-ion. We did what we could to en-ab-le most of you to sur-vive.”

“But killing others, just so you could watch us sit here like lab mice in a cage?”

“And how are we ever to go back out there?” I yelled. “Unless you plan to keep us here forever!”

“The gas-es will ev-ap-or-ate in due time. You will be safe to leave when our re-search has been con-duct-ed.”

“Not this due time bullshit again!” David spat the words out like they were yesterday’s chewed-up gum. “Answer my question! Justify these murders! I need to hear how you possibly think you’re justified in doing this!” He started pacing across the room, his strides fierce and his gaze glued to the relentless black box.

“Our just-if-i-cat-ions will not sat-is-fy you. We do not think man-y were killed in this fash-ion. Our veh-i-cles did well.” The speaker crackled, a sign that they wouldn’t speak more on the subject.

David drew his hands into fists. “You said they were safe,” he growled through gritted teeth.

“Your fam-i-ly is. They were not caught in the blast.”

He slammed a fist into the intercom’s wall. “That isn’t good enough! Show me!”

“I…can-not,” the voice said, pausing briefly. Is it actually considering the idea?

Julie ran forward to comfort her father, and I took a deep breath. We still had more questions. “Where else did these blasts occur?” I asked.

“All of the cit-ies with maj-or pop-u-lat-ions.”

“Where are you holding everyone else captive?” Naomi asked, glancing down at the list in front of her. Her hands shook as she gripped the paper. I clasped one of her hands within mine.

“In such struct-ures as this one.”

“All in groups about the size of ours?”

“Yes.”

“And every group has access to food and water?”

“Yes.”

“How? Where are you getting everything?”

“From your own fac-il-i-ties. By the time our re-search has been con-duct-ed, your supp-lies will not be term-in-a-ted.”

“Why can’t we have electricity for televisions and appliances?”

“The ex-plos-ions dest-royed most ci-ty pow-er trans-form-ers. We did not an-tic-i-pate that, but there is no way to fix it un-til our re-search has been con-duct-ed.”

“Then how—” David started. He still held his fist against the wall, but his daughter’s warmth kept his nerves calm enough to follow our conversation.

“We found some an-cient gen-er-a-tors a-round this dwell-ing,” the being finished. “They will power these lights and the air vent-i-lat-ion sys-tem, but that is all.”

Naomi and I shared a wary glance. “For how long…?” I asked.

“Long e-nough. We will not let you per-ish.” The voice paused. “You have asked e-nough quest-ions.”

“Wait,” I said. “How much longer are you keeping us here? Why can’t you tell us an approximation?”

“That de-pends. It will not be long-er than your supp-lies will last, and not be-fore the gas clears a-way. That is all I can tell you. No more quest-ions.” The intercom clicked off with one final burst of static.

David slowly released his fist from the wall and sent his foot flying back at it. It hit with a loud thud, leaving behind a dark smudge. “This is all such bull,” he mumbled, clenching his eyes together tightly as he tried to compose himself.

“I’ll say,” Naomi agreed. Her head hung low. She crumpled up the list and tossed it to the floor.

“This is that for the greater good junk that people like to spew, isn’t it? Save the majority of the populace but who cares about killing a few in the process?” David stormed over to our bench and joined us, sitting down so hard that our bench shook. Julie followed him, clutching one of his hands.

“Our wars are like that,” I reminded him. “They’re not the only ones guilty of it.”

He glared at me.

“I’m…not saying I agree with them.” Me and my big mouth. I folded my hands on my lap and wished I could shrink away somewhere. How the hell did I get involved in all this? I was a writer, not a politician.

Naomi looked up suddenly. Without a word, she glanced over at Charles, and the little boy toddled over to her. She picked him up and hugged him tight. “We should ask them to save the generators for an emergency, except for our air,” she finally said.

I nodded. We could deal without lights as long we had our lanterns, candles, and plenty of batteries. Hooray for the Wal-Marts currently being raided by aliens. The conversation with our alien representative had depressed me as much as it had the others, but somehow my mind came up with random shit like it always did.

“Such bull,” David muttered again.

“Such fucking bullshit!” Matt’s voice rang in my ears. He appeared in front of us, gazing down at our faces. His lips were pulled back into a snarl.

My eyes narrowed as I stared at him. “Don’t make this any harder than it already is.”

“Fuck that. I can’t believe you guys just go along with the crap they’re spewing!” He shoved his hands in his jeans and started pacing in front of us. “Oh, okay, mister scary-alien-that’s-not-even-scary, we’ll just sit here like idiots while you kill people and poison our air. By the way, thanks for the oatmeal and tuna, we’re doing super awesome. Thanks for asking!” His voice mimicked a little girl’s.

“Well, I sure as hell didn’t see you up here telling them anything different!” I yelled, standing to face him. He was a foot taller than me, and I had to angle my neck to look him in the eyes.

Naomi sighed and handed Charles back to his mother, ushering Donna to try and shield the boy from Matt’s cussing, somehow. Donna dragged Julie and Han along with her. Han’s parents thanked her silently.

“That’s because you guys told us to shut the hell up while you were talking to them!”

“No we didn’t! We said for you guys to refrain, unless you had something important to add!”

“It’s obvious you’re running the show. Why bother trying to add shit?”

My dad shuffled up behind me and took a seat. What the hell does he think he’s going to do? I resisted the urge to spin around and glare at him. Instead, I glared at Matt. “Okay, you think you know it all.” I attempted to calm my voice and sound logical rather than emotional. “So tell me, what would you have said? What would you do differently?”

“I sure as hell wouldn’t lay around like a helpless twit!” he screamed.

“Give me fucking examples!” The logical part of me vanished as red fury began to run through my bloodstream.

He stopped pacing and stared down at me. “I would have told them that unless they fucking told us everything we wanted to know, we’d retaliate. I’d get answers about how long we’d be here! I’d demand to be let into other areas of this goddamn school. I’d demand to be served hot food and given a fucking real toilet and shower!”

“So why didn’t you do this in your garden shed?”

“I tried! They wouldn’t fucking respond! Here, you at least somehow have their attention! They speak our language for Christ’s sake. How the hell are we so clueless?”

“Did you not hear us ask this crap? Do you think we like being clueless?” I shouted.

“Fuck if I know! You’re all acting like pansies, so maybe? It seems like it, yeah?” He glanced at David, hoping for some kind of assistance. David stared stubbornly at the ground, his legs spread with his elbows on his knees and head in his hands. “Fucking pussies,” Matt challenged again, staring directly into my face.

I hit him square in the jaw with a balled-up fist. He had to take a step backward from the force of my blow.

“Fuck!” he yelled, cradling his jaw.

I wasn’t through yet. “You’re the fucking pussy, Matt! Shouting all this crap after the fact, leaving the real work to us! Oh, sounds familiar. I know why! You do the exact same thing at work!”

I spun around and quickly shook out my clenched fist, which now stung something fierce. It instinctively balled back into a fist as I paced along the wall for a minute and turned back to face him. “I covered for you so many goddamn times, and you still treat me like absolute shit. You think we’re so stupid? How about you talk to them tomorrow? You run the show, and we won’t say a fucking word.” I waved my arms out frantically, not caring if I looked like an idiot. “See if you get anywhere! And don’t forget to run in, guns a-blazing, Rambo style. Maybe you can ask them for a gun supply store, and then we can do the Rambo thing! They wouldn’t give David weapons, but you’re just so macho, they’re sure to give you a whole fucking store!” My face and bloodstream felt as though both were on fire.

“Sam! Matt! Shut up!” Naomi screamed.

Matt looked like he wanted to return the hit, but stopped himself. He kept his jaw cradled in his hands, wincing as he spoke. “If you had such a fucking problem with me, Sam, why didn’t you tell the boss? You act like you’re so tough, but you really are chicken shit. You know that? You wanna know why I always late and shit? Because I knew you’d let me get away with it.”

I took a step away from him. A spiraling sensation began in the pit of my stomach. “You’re absolutely right,” I said, my voice a full octave lower. “I am chicken shit.” The hand that was curled into a fist went limp. My head drooped down.

“Sam, you’re not!” Naomi chimed in, her brown eyes searching to meet my gaze. “Don’t let him do this!”

“No, no, fuck it. All my life I’ve been taking the fucking easy route.” I turned away from Matt, afraid to meet his eyes or Naomi’s. The spiraling sensation within me continued. He’d found out my secret. I walked slowly to the opposite side of the room, arms still limp at my sides. I felt ashamed.

I grabbed my candles along the way. It was starting to get dark, and the aliens hadn’t turned on our lights yet, but that was okay. We’d all have to get used to the darkness.

My dad called out to me, but I ignored him. I stumbled over to the wall behind my tent and slumped down to the floor, thankful I was now partially hidden.

I saw David sit up straight and face Matt, who was frozen in place, head turned in my direction. “It’s not like we can fight them, Matt,” David said. “So best get that idea out of your head. I know—I’ve been there—but we have to just make the best of a really crappy situation, and be thankful we’re here, safe. Together.”

I couldn’t see Matt’s response. He turned away from me and muttered something that was too quiet to hear. Matt walked away from David, disappearing behind the cardboard surrounding the food station.

Naomi approached me. She sat down on the floor next to me. I wanted to meet her warm gaze, but couldn’t. I stared at the small paper rainbow I had taped on the peak of my tent. It was supposed to be a pride flag. Julie had made it for me from the box of crayons I had requested for her last week. It was lame that I taped it up there, really. I always hungered for some way to feel good about myself, even if it was in the most insignificant way possible. It was like blocking a harsh blow with a Q-tip.

The shadows deepened around the pathetic little flag. The light from our tiny window disappeared, opening the way for shadows. Naomi picked up one of my candles and lit it with a match, then placed it in front of me.

“Feel like talking?” she finally asked.

I shook my head, still refusing to look her in the eyes.

She placed a hand on my shoulder and stood back up slowly, using my shoulder for support. “Well, don’t sulk here too long, girl. I’m here if you need an ear.” She turned to walk away. “And for the record, you got him good. He sure as hell deserved that.” I glanced up at her face and saw a brief smile light up its edges.

I opened my mouth to say something, but she turned and walked away before I could fumble for words. I sighed and looked back at my flag. The candlelight flickered against it, making the colors shine bright. I hated it when I found myself fumbling for words then not discovering any at all. At times like this, my vocabulary found itself stuck in a rock tumbler, rolling around and around, never quite going anywhere.

My eyes focused on the flame in front of me. Why didn’t I tell our boss about Matt continuously being late? Had I been scared? That didn’t make sense. There was nothing to be scared of. I think I’d just been lazy, apathetic about a stupid job and a stupid guy I hated working with. I had never considered that Matt thought me a wuss and kept doing it to spite me.

Eventually, my dad poked his way over to me with a tuna sandwich in hand and Simon at his heels. “Thought you might be hungry,” he said, handing me the sandwich and some crackers. “I even put cheese on it.”

I took the food from him and nibbled on a cracker. “Thanks,” I mumbled, looking up at him. He was walking with a cane. “Whose cane is that?”

“Mine. I put in on the list earlier. They just delivered it after your…uh, outburst.”

“Oh.” I hadn’t even noticed the aliens make a delivery. “I thought you couldn’t handle using a cane?” Simon took an immediate interest in my meal and parked his nose between the slices of bread. I sectioned off a chunk so he could enjoy some tuna.

“Whatever helps,” he said, turning to leave. “Marge talked me into it. But it does help.”

“Well, thank you, Dad. For the food.”

“Yep.” He stopped turning for a second, leaning heavily on the cane. “By the way, I was…impressed with how you handled yourself back there. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so angry. I don’t agree with what he said.”

“You don’t think I’ve always searched for the easy way out in life?” I asked him, genuinely curious. I picked at a bread crust on the sandwich in front of me. “Living with Mom after the divorce, going to a stupid community college for two years, changing my major from geology because I couldn’t handle calculus, and getting that chicken job?”

“No. I think you did what you had to. You knew your limitations about your schooling. You knew you had to take care of your mother. You know you have to take care of me…” He paused as though he was considering his words carefully. “You broke it off with Paul before you both got hurt. You chose the hard route when it came to deciding on an ideal…partner.”

I stopped picking at the bread and stared at him through narrowing eyes. “Chose?”

“I’m not having that argument again. You can be so goddamned stubborn, Sam. Chose, followed through with, dedicated yourself to…whatever you want to call it. Feed me after you’re done eating, please.” He started shuffling toward his cot, signaling the end to our conversation.

I sighed as his silhouette disappeared out of range from my puny light source. There my father went again, doing something considerate and then kicking me in the gut with a few careless words. Even when he attempted to choose them with care.

Chapter 9

The following morning, I was awoken earlier than usual to a conversation that sounded like it came from right above my tent. I groaned. Why the hell can’t people let others sleep? I hadn’t fallen asleep until just before dawn because my mind wouldn’t shut the hell up. I needed some fucking alcohol. And a hammer.

“Sam’s had it rough ever since her mother died,” I heard. “She was just out of college when my ex-wife passed away.” My wonderful father. Fantastic. Now I knew who to aim that hammer toward.

“Oh, yeah, that can be pretty rough on a girl.” The other voice was David’s.

“She used to be pretty shy, but she kind of outgrew it after that. It was really a drastic change for her.”

I narrowed my eyes, readying myself to yell at him. Why the fuck did he feel the need to tell people shit about me? I sat up in my tent, knocking over my pile of books in the process. The tent wasn’t quite tall enough for me to actually sit up in, so I ended up half-sitting up with a face full of bright yellow fabric. I tried to shove the material aside, but failed, almost knocking down the entire tent instead.

Unsurprisingly, my dad heard my wrestling match. “Oh, I think she’s up.”

“Can’t you people talk on the other side of the room?” I yelled through a mouth full of tent fabric. I threw on some jeans, which was a battle in itself inside the tent, and then wriggled my way out of it. Along the way, my foot caught one of the pole’s ends and snapped it into two. The entire thing collapsed on my head. Apparently, my tent had to get the last word in.

I shoved it off me, throwing it into a defeated pile. I readied a glare for my dad and David, but they had both disappeared. “Geez, how fast can a shuffling guy with a cane go?” I grumbled. I stood up and poured myself a cup of coffee. I could already tell this was going to be a crappy day.

An hour later, I sat next to the remains of my poor tent, still nursing my coffee. When I was younger I never even liked the stuff. Somehow as I grew older, and chicken fryers and tube feedings inserted themselves into my daily routine, I developed a need for a quick caffeine fix. The present situation requires lots of caffeine, I noted, watching as Charles, Julie, and Han ran circles around me.

My mind kept drifting back to the previous night and Matt’s and my shouting match. His last words chucked my self-confidence into a meat grinder. “Fuck that,” I finally mumbled to myself.

I stood and went to find Naomi. My fists were balled at my sides, my strides determined. Naomi and Donna were organizing the food supplies.

“Oh, hi, Sam,” Naomi said absentmindedly. “You’re up early. Want something to eat?” She then noticed the stony features etched on my face. “Are you…okay, honey?”

“Naomi, do we have a butcher knife or something in here?” I asked. “Ice pick maybe? A crowbar? How about a shovel or large spoon?”

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What?”

“Do we?”

“I…let me see.” She turned away from me and rummaged inside a box we used to store silverware and utensils. “Here’s a sharp knife. It’s really not that sharp, though.” She poked the edge of the blade lightly and tossed me a wary glance.

“That’s fine.”

She went back to the box. “Soup ladle. Why would there be a crowbar in here?”

“Forget it, I’ll look.” I took the ladle and knife from her, and then shoved her aside gently. I began rummaging through the box myself, pulling out a wooden spoon and an ice pick.

“What on Earth you up to, Sam?”

“Finding a hard way out.”

Her eyebrows furrowed together even tighter. She shared a confused glance with Donna, and her daughter shrugged in response.

I set the box down, satisfied with my findings. “Where’s that garden trowel of yours?” I asked.

“In my bag…”

“Get it for me?”

She searched my face for some sort of revelation as to what was going on in my head then sighed and fetched me the trowel. As she handed it to me she placed a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t do anything you might regret later,” she warned.

My eyes met her concerned gaze, and I reassured her with a quick smile. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna kill someone.”

She gave me a weak chuckle. “Okay then, hon.”

“May the Force of the trowel be with me!” I said, raising it up to the ceiling like it was a light saber.

She laughed for real this time.

I left the food pantry with my tools and grabbed my coffee cup. I searched the walls around the room, tools in one arm, cup in the other. I tried to find any loose spots in the stucco with my bare toe. Around the double doors and the metal plate, the walls were sealed shut and completely solid. But in a building as old as this, there had to be a corner where the stucco was deteriorating.

Finally I found it. It was perpendicular to the wall with the double doors. I kicked the corner, and a small white piece of stucco fell on my foot. I sat down on the ground with my tools and went to work.

About two hours later, Naomi appeared behind me. I was so focused on my project, I hadn’t noticed her approaching. She eyed my handiwork. “You know, I think everyone’s scared to come over and find out what the hell you’re up to.”

I stabbed the stucco repeatedly with an ice pick. It was stubborn shit. I’d only managed to get a chunk about the size of lemon out of the wall, and the hole didn’t go all the way through to the other side. Metal piping blocked my way. I was now trying to find a way around the piping. I was covered from head to foot in white powder, and more powder and chunks of stucco littered the floor like the remnants of a winter snowstorm.

“Isn’t it obvious?” I asked between stabs.

“Trying to break us out of here?”

“Something like that. If people are convinced I can’t do shit, and I can’t take action, and can’t do anything mildly difficu—”

I was cut short as Naomi clamped a hand down on my shoulder forcefully. I stopped stabbing and looked up at her, ice pick in hand.

“You stop right there. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. You’re way too young to be going through this shit.”

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better?” I raised an eyebrow at her. The hand that held the ice pick shook.

“No. But you’re taking this way outta proportion. Matt was just being an ass.”

“He’s always an ass. That’s nothing new.” I turned away from her and continued stabbing. At least my hand didn’t shake when it had something to do.

She moved her hand off my shoulder. “You sure you’re not a teenager still? Because you sure are acting like one.” She left my side, taking brisk strides. Her footsteps echoed as she made her way across the gym.

I turned my focus back to my project. It was a satisfying feeling, focusing on something so simple and physical. I didn’t have time to think about anything else, just the steady thwack, thwack, thwack of my ice pick. Every now and then I’d switch to the knife. I used the trowel and wooden spoon to dig out stubborn stucco chunks that got in my way.

Eventually, I found the edge of the pipe and continued my way through the wall where it ended. My hand and arm ached. I had tried switching hands, but I was fairly useless with my left hand. The stucco pieces covered me, and I kept sneezing from the dust and debris, but I didn’t stop.

David joined me at some point, asking if he could be of any help. I sent him away. He left easily, without much of a fuss.

Time passed as I stabbed. And scooped. And hacked at the wall. I wasn’t sure how much time. It didn’t really matter—I had no place to go, nothing better to do. My dad brought me a peanut butter sandwich and left it by my side without saying a word. He probably figured I was angry at him, and he was partially right. I was angry, but the portion of me that was angry at him was relatively small. I was angrier with myself.

I ignored the sandwich and kept going. Eventually, it became a peanut butter and stucco sandwich. Simon came and sauntered around me at some point, but I think I frightened him away with all the racket I was making, and he took off shortly after.

Matt appeared behind me some time after Simon left. His feet shuffled noisily. He hadn’t even talked to me since our fight. “I’m sorry for what I said yesterday,” he told me, his voice low. “I was pissed off at being stuck here, and I didn’t expect to see you here.”

I said nothing to him and kept piercing the stucco.

He tried again. “You aren’t chicken shit, Sam. Really.”

He shuffled his feet again, waiting for a response. I refused to offer him one. I guessed that my father had put him up to apologizing.

“Leave me alone,” I said, my voice displaying no emotion.

He begrudgingly did so. I heard him shuffle all the way to the other side of the room, wrestle with his tent to get it open, and zip it closed.

After more time passed, the shadows began to deepen around me, and I set down my tools, stretched my aching hand, and stared at my gaping hole. It was a fairly decent size now. I knew I was close to the other side. I had to be. They couldn’t make these walls that thick, could they?

I took a deep breath, rolled my stiff shoulders, and grabbed the trowel. I shoved it into the deepest part of the hole, pushing it with all my strength. I heard a satisfying creak which I assumed meant I had cracked the surface on the other side. What was on the other side? I hoped the hole led to the locker room or showers—somewhere that was safe from the poisonous gases swimming through Frisco’s air, yet a place we could make an escape to. Or start an attack from.

I removed another piece of stucco, and then peered into the hole. A solid white covering of some sort was on the other side of the hole. I banged it with the trowel. A dull thud echoed. The force vibrated through the handle. I took my knife to it, and found that I couldn’t carve into the material at all. It was as smooth as metal, and the knife blade just slid across it like it was an ice rink.

“What the hell is this shit?” I murmured, dropping the knife on the floor with a noisy clatter. I grabbed the ice pick and started jabbing the material with it. Nothing. It didn’t even make a dent. I peered into the hole again.

“What’d you find?” a voice asked. David’s. He tried to look into the hole from behind my shoulder.

I scooted out of the way for him. “It’s this white crap again,” I told him, realizing I was out of breath. I took a few deep breaths and wiped a thin layer of sweat off my brow.

He knelt down to take a closer look. “Yeah, it looks like the same sealant they used to seal the double doors and the metal hatch.”

“How the hell did they know I’d choose this one spot to dig out?” I exclaimed.

“Actually…” He put one slender arm in the hole and felt around. “It seems like there’s a whole sheet of it covering this entire wall. There’s no way we’ll get through this without some serious alien power tools. This stuff’s amazing. We could make a fortune marketing it here on Earth.”

“Fantastic,” I muttered. “Let’s advertise it on the home improvement channel. Do-it-yourself alien goop!” I picked up the trowel and flung it across the room. It hit the wall with a thwack, stucco powder flying behind it like smoke from an exhaust.

Naomi was near the wall the trowel flew into. “Sam!” she gasped. “Don’t take your anger out on us! And you are finished with my trowel!” She glared at me, her eyes glinting with fiery anger. She stormed over to the trowel, grabbed it, and stormed back to her bench, where she had been knitting with Donna and some of the other women. “Charles is acting more mature than you are right now!” She shot me one final glare before she went back to her scarf. “And I am not cleaning up that mess of white crap you made!”

I grumbled and then noticed David staring up at me from his kneeling position. “Thanks, David,” I murmured. “You can leave me be. I’ll clean up this…mess.”

He stood up slowly, thumbing his mustache as he searched for words. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his sweats. “You know,” he said, “it’s okay that you tried this. I’m glad, honestly. Now we further know what we’re up against.” He paused for a moment, eyes still on me. “I had my test of patience. This is yours. What isn’t okay is if you continue shutting everyone out afterward.” He walked away slowly, letting me absorb his words.

Chapter 10

I still hadn’t cleaned up my mess. My back was slumped against the wall in the same spot David had left me. I was surrounded by the pathetic hunks of stucco, and I knew they covered me like ash from a war zone. It was kind of itchy, but I didn’t bother sweeping myself off. It was like being inside a dust storm.

Night had fallen. Shining smudges of lantern light bobbed around the room as my fellow captives went about their business. I could barely see the stucco hunks now, but I still stared at them. I think I expected them to melt.

A lit-up lantern bobbed its way to me in the midst of the shadows and my stucco-storm. I couldn’t tell who it belonged to; all I could see was a silhouette heading toward me. It wasn’t a tall silhouette, and it seemed distinctly feminine somehow. I blinked at it. Maybe I was seeing things.

The silhouette slowly grew features. It held a cardboard box as well as the bobbing lantern. I saw a red sweatshirt with feminine curves flowing underneath. Dark hair and green eyes. I blinked. Kisana.

She stopped in front of me, placing the lantern on the floor between us. “Would you like some soup, Sam?” she asked. A smile played on her lips through the lantern light. It was a warm smile, unafraid.

“Sure,” I said, gazing up at her. Her smile mesmerized me. I blinked again. Why haven’t I noticed it before? “Have a seat?”

She began pushing aside stucco clumps with the toe of one sneaker. “I wish it was something homemade, but it’s just canned minestrone,” she said apologetically.

“I…uh…let me help,” I stammered, shoving away piles of stucco in an attempt to make her a clean spot to sit down in. The stucco clumps that were on my arms and shirt fell onto the clean spot. “Dang, sorry.” I shoved them aside, and then gazed back up at her sheepishly. “Minestrone’s great. Please, join me. Maybe my mess won’t attack you now.”

She laughed softly as she joined me on the ground. Cross-legged, like me. She handed me a steaming bowl from the box she carried then a spoon and a couple small packages of crackers.

I took the soup bowl gratefully and crumbled a few crackers into it. “Thank you so much,” I said. “It may only be from a can, but it sure smells heavenly.”

“Well, you’ve only been over here by yourself all day—I’d imagine anything would.” She rummaged in the box and brought out a couple of candles. She moved the lantern to her side and lit the candles between us. They flickered, lighting up the soft features of her face, including a pair of faint dimples I hadn’t noticed before.

I lowered my eyes in embarrassment. “I guess I had a bad day,” I said, taking a spoonful of soup and blowing on it.

“I can tell,” she said, smiling. “Yesterday didn’t seem the best for you, either. But that’s all right. Bad days are…expected under these circumstances.”

I couldn’t help but return the smile. She had this way of speaking that soothed me, made me forget why I was so pissed off. I deemed the soup cool enough and began eating. I’d been so focused on my stupid anger, I’d neglected to notice how hungry I was. “Mmm, this is great.”

Kisana laughed, her eyes shining in the candlelight. “I had some earlier. It wasn’t that great, but I am pretty picky.” She looked at me shyly all of the sudden, probably wondering if I remembered what she’d said about herself the other day.

“You’re certainly allowed to be; you’re studying to be a chef.” The smile returned to her face as she nodded, the shyness edging away again. She was a shy girl, I could tell, but not as shy as I had originally thought. I’d been yearning to talk with her for weeks now, but I felt uncomfortable approaching with her family nearby. I think I was worried that she thought David, Naomi, Matt, Bruce, and me to be a bunch of crazies. Which we were. At least I was, according to the mess around me.

“So, I have to admit,” I said, “it feels like everyone’s been avoiding me all day. I guess I seemed pretty retarded. But yet, here you are.”

She laughed again. “Not retarded. Just dealing with issues. And why I came over here? It looked like you needed a friend. Most everyone’s either much older or younger than us, so why not get to know one another? You and I haven’t talked much, but I figured now might be a good time. You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to, though.”

“Thanks, Kisana. I appreciate it.” I smiled. She was receptive. “I really could use a friend. And I’m sure you’ve heard all of my troubles already, between my loud-mouthed father, David, and super loud-mouthed Matt.”

“I did hear some parts. Hard not to here. But it seems like your father does care about you, even though his means are…unique.” She reached into her box and pulled out two cans of Coke. She handed me one.

“Where’d those come from?” I exclaimed. “All the mothers and grandmothers were up in arms that we couldn’t have soda because we have so many kids now!”

“I snuck it on the list at the last second and grabbed the six-pack before anyone saw me.” She smiled at me, popping open her can. She raised it to me in a toast. I did the same, and we clinked cans. “To one day finding freedom,” she said.

“To one day finding freedom!” I took a thirsty gulp and then remembered where we were in our conversation. “But yeah, he does care about me, I know. I just lose my patience with him so damn easily. Matt’s just as bad. It pisses me off that he’s even here.”

“Naomi was right about him; he is an ass. But he’s also young. You shouldn’t have let what he said get to you, if you don’t mind me saying. You clearly were in the lead up to that point. But I do sense there’s more to the story.”

I nodded as I finished up my soup. “I don’t know what happened to me, really. It’s like something just shut down inside me. Well, no…” I set my bowl down and frowned. My eyes met hers slowly. “I do know; it’s just a stupid, long story.”

“I’d be interested to hear it if you feel like telling me,” Kisana said. Her voice was almost a whisper. “We have time.”

I took a deep breath. “Well, my father was always kind of stupid when it came to raising daughters. I knew he wished I’d been born a boy. He was an alcoholic, used to talk shit about my mother when he was drunk. He treated her like shit after she went blind, but she didn’t divorce him until I was in high school. I grew up pretty pissed off at him. In high school, I used to tell him how I was planning to go to college and become something great—at the time I wanted to major in geology. He told me that geology was a good specialty for me, and it was good I didn’t choose something like medicine or law because I was of just average intelligence. He always thought he was so smart. My best friend was with us for that conversation, and she was appalled. But for me, you know, that was just normal.”

Kisana’s eyes shone bright in the candlelight. I concentrated on them as I continued. “I went into college pretty bitter. I dug into geology, tried my hardest, and did fairly well. I had a great professor who kind of became my mentor. Things were going well. Then one day I met a guy named Paul. This was during the days when I thought I was bisexual. We ended up becoming a couple, got engaged. I let my schooling slide. I became lazy. I stayed up late with him, even when things were getting crappy between us, and hated getting up early for shitty classes like calculus. I transferred to a university, but before I did so, my mentor told me that I always sought the easy way out in life, and he thought that might hinder me one day. His comment hurt me at the time, but now that I look back, I realize that was the most honest thing anyone’s ever said about me.”

I gazed into one of the tiny flames in front of me. Kisana’s eyes were focused on the same spot. “Do you think you sought the easy way out by not realizing your sexuality earlier?” she asked.

“Yeah, definitely. I knew better. I was just stupid. I wanted an easy route to happiness, so I denied shit. Ever since high school, I knew I wanted to be with a woman.” My eyes met hers slowly. I searched her gaze for some sort of sign that she was embarrassed or offended about the whole gay stuff talk. I didn’t see signs of either. I sighed in relief.

“I ended up changing my major to English,” I continued. “I said I couldn’t hang the calculus and chemistry. But deep down I just wanted to be lazy and get to the happy stages of life with Paul. I swore I’d run into those happy stages eventually. Long story short, I broke off the engagement. By that time, it was too late to change back majors, and I stuck with English, telling myself that I’d be a writer or some shit. In reality, I just wanted the easy way out.”

“You wanted happiness,” Kisana whispered. “Nothing wrong in that.”

I shook my head stubbornly. “Happiness doesn’t come via the easy route very often.”

“True. But on the flip side, can you really say that becoming a writer is easy?”

I laughed aloud. “No, not really.”

“Well then, see? You didn’t necessarily go the easy route at all. You just went a different route. What matters is that the chosen route brings you happiness.”

“But it hasn’t. I’m doing fucking nothing with my degree.” I stared at her dimples. They were so damn cute.

“Because your father needs you. And might I add, that you’re very courageous to take care of him after what you’ve told me about him.” Her smile straightened into a stubborn line on her dark features. “Do you enjoy writing?”

“I do. I used to think that was my dream, to share my vision with the world. But now it’s been three years since I graduated. Who knows when I’ll be able to look for a full-time job or write again? Who’s gonna want me after such a long break from the field?”

“You’re not currently writing in your spare time?”

I shook my head.

“Then it sounds like you’re taking the hard route there. But that’s changeable right now.”

I took a sip of my soda and stared back into the candlelight. “Yeah, you’re right. I don’t know why I stopped. I used to write all the time.”

She shrugged. “Don’t beat yourself up. Shit happens. All you need to do is find that spark again. Find a reason to write, and don’t ever stop.”

I nodded, a smile returning to my face. “I used to say that creativity struck like a belated hurricane.”

“I can see that. It’ll hit you again, random like lightning. But you can’t give up. Otherwise, it may never strike again.” Our eyes met over the candlelight again, and she smiled with me.

“I gotta find that spark, that hurricane, in its hiding spot that I probably helped stuff it in.” I paused, letting the words flow through me. “You know, now that we’re talking, what I went through doesn’t seem so bad.”

“I’m glad.” She put her hand on my arm.

“Oh, there’s also the fact that my dad’s a homophobe,” I muttered, my gaze dropping once more. “Last night he said some crap about me not choosing the easy route since I chose to be gay. Like I’m some fucking teenager choosing to wear nothing but neon pink. That’s probably what pushed me over the edge, come to think of it.”

“He’s old and doesn’t know any better,” Kisana said. “My grandparents back in Spain are like that.”

“About…what?” A tiny figment of curiosity snuck into my brain.

“Oh, everything. My parents moving out here. Me getting a college degree. I’m thankful I don’t have to deal with them except over Christmas breaks. I feel for you, Sam, having to deal with it every day.” She lowered her gaze.

“I guess it wears me down,” I admitted. “I just feel like giving in some days.”

Her eyes glittered suddenly, and she met my gaze. “And that’s how you know you’re not taking the easy way out.”

I contemplated that as a comfortable silence lounged between us. I liked comfortable silences. They reminded me of when I was a teenager, and my mother and I would sit outside on her wooden swing, munch on popsicles, and appreciate the afternoon sun as it slid into dusk.

Kisana’s hand was still on my arm. My gaze drifted downward. Her hands were soft, delicate. I longed to place my other hand upon hers, but I didn’t want to seem too forward. Not when I wasn’t sure which way she swung.

“Thank you, Kisana,” I said finally. My eyes met hers. “It must be getting pretty late, huh?”

“Maybe. I honestly don’t care. I’ve been having trouble sleeping at night. Oh, I overheard Marge talking about feeding your father. I think she took care of that for you tonight.”

“Oh, great. That would be wonderful if she would take that over for me.”

“Here’s hoping.” A wide grin enveloped her face. “Now…can we get rid of the superhero dandruff?” She lifted her hand off my arm and brushed away a layer of white powder that was on my jeans. My heart did a quick tumble as her hand brushed against my outer thigh.

“That would probably be good,” I answered. “Naomi will have my hide if I don’t clean up this mess.”

“I’ll help. I think there’s a broom and dustpan somewhere. Let me look.” She stood up and walked toward the pantry, grabbing the lantern along the way.

I got to my feet slowly, watching her curves glide into a dusky silhouette. The image of her beautiful smile and how it gave life to the candlelight was etched in my mind. I stretched. My entire body was sore. And Kisana…she was a sight for sore, sore eyes indeed. I had a sneaking suspicion I wouldn’t have any trouble sleeping that night.

Chapter 11

The next day, I was in a much better mood. I actually slept for once, and by some stroke of luck, no one woke me up at some ridiculous hour by babbling outside my tent. It was now nearing noon, and I sat outside my tent, sipping a cup of coffee. For once, I was all right with being held captive.

Kisana and I had tried our best to clean up the mess with only her lantern and the puny candles to guide us. I glanced over at the ruins of that corner now and grimaced. We didn’t do a terrible job, but the mess I had left in the wall was pretty ugly. If the aliens happened to see that, they’d realize immediately what I’d attempted. But I didn’t care. Let them find out. We were only human. Our instinct to embrace freedom rose above most of our other instincts.

I gave my tent a once-over. It was still a mess. Kisana had helped me try and fix it, but I needed a whole new pole. I fixed it with duct tape for the meantime. It leaned miserably to one side. My pride flag leaned to the opposite side, struggling to keep the tent upright.

Kisana hadn’t popped out of her tent since I’d been awake. Is it possible she sleeps in later than I do? The thought amused me.

Bruce noticed my eyes sweeping across the gym and the smile on my face and took it as I sign that I wasn’t pissed off anymore. He hobbled toward me. “Good morning,” he said. “Feeling better today?” He took a seat on a nearby bench.

“Yeah,” I said as I grasped for more to say. I was sure he wanted an apology, but my brain had already begun to push aside parts of what had happened the previous day. I wasn’t sure I really owed him one. I ran a finger across the top of my coffee cup absentmindedly.

“You gave us a scare yesterday. You didn’t seem to be acting like yourself.”

I tried to resist the urge to glare at him. He was part of the fucking reason I went off the deep end. I didn’t want to think back to it. “Sorry,” I said, attempting to keep my voice even. “I guess I had a bad day. I heard Marge took care of your feedings.” I hoped he’d follow my lead and stop talking about me.

“Yes, she did. She’s good with my medications, and even knew how to test my sugar. She’s been very nice to me.”

“Good. You need someone to talk to.”

He nodded. “She offered to take care of my feedings and medication all the time. I almost refused her, but I guess you could use a break?”

“I could,” I admitted. “And it’s not like I’ll be far.” I gave him a thin smile.

“True. I’ll tell her. I’ll leave you to your coffee.” He made his way back to Marge.

I sighed once I was alone again. There were a couple of apologies that needed to be divvied out. I journeyed over to David and apologized to him. He acted like he barely remembered me being pissy at all. I then fed Simon and found Naomi, who was sitting with Donna and Charles. They were sharing a late breakfast.

“Care to join us, Sam?” Donna asked me as I neared them. She smiled.

“Sure.” I joined them and helped myself to a bowl of oatmeal.

Naomi’s eyes met mine as I sat down beside her. She didn’t say anything, but her face didn’t display any sign of anger. She held out a plate that had chunks of fresh grapefruit and oranges on it. I grabbed a few chunks. “Wow, fresh fruit,” I noted with a smile.

“We received some rotten fruit, but luckily this stuff was still fresh,” Donna said. “Citrus stays fresh a while. But it won’t be much longer before everything in the stores goes bad.”

I nodded through a mouthful of orange.

“You feeling better today?” Naomi finally asked. “You look better.”

“Yeah,” I answered. “I guess I owe you two an apology. Sorry. I dunno what came over me.” I stared down at my oatmeal.

“No worries, hon,” Naomi said. She gave my shoulder a squeeze.

“I know I acted like an arrogant kid. I felt like I had to prove something to myself.”

“Did you?”

“No, but I did prove that the aliens have thought this plan of theirs through rather well.” I began eating my oatmeal. It was pretty bland. Couldn’t they at least get the sugary stuff?

“The walls have something stopping anything from getting through?” Donna asked.

“Yeah, it’s this stuff that hardens right after they apply it. They used it to seal around the doors, and apparently it’s lining the entire wall.” I pointed to the remainder of my demolition project. “I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s lining all the walls.”

“We’re sealed in completely,” Naomi murmured.

I nodded. “It was a depressing find. But I guess it awoke my senses.”

“Speaking of awakening your senses…” Naomi raised her eyebrows at me. “I heard you made a friend last night.”

“Wha—How?” I stammered, my mouth floundering open. “How’d you find out?”

She grinned. “News travels fast around here. That and well, you guys weren’t exactly quiet.”

My face turned tomato red. “We didn’t…have sex or anything noisy like that!” I tried to keep my voice down. I didn’t do very well. Donna burst out laughing.

Naomi joined her, her laugh deep and hearty. She slapped a knee. “Oh, Sam, you’re crazy. I didn’t say we heard you guys going at it. I can tell where your brain is this morning.” She winked. “It just sounded like you two were having fun, giggling and messing around.”

I lowered my gaze bashfully. “Oh. Uh, yeah, we were trying to clean up the stucco mess. We kinda ended up playfully throwing it at each other, like snowballs.” I joined the two women in laughter. The whole thing had been pretty silly, but much-needed and fun.

We were still laughing when the intercom clicked on. Our laughter quieted, and I concentrated on finishing my breakfast as we waited for our spokesperson to begin speaking.

“We see that you have been bus-y,” the voice announced. It wasn’t one to beat around the bush.

My eyes shifted nervously. “The hole in the wall?” I asked, staring down into my empty oatmeal bowl.

“Yes.”

“I had to find out for myself how possible escape was.” My voice was quiet. I hoped they’d still be able to hear me, but a part of me didn’t want them to know how foolish I was.

“Now you know. Co-op-er-ation is your on-ly option. Acc-ept it.”

I couldn’t think of how to respond, so I kept my mouth shut. No one else spoke.

“We do have some news you may app-rec-i-ate, how-ever,” the voice continued.

My ears perked up. “Yeah?”

“You have my wife and other daughter?” David asked, his voice chiming with hope.

“We have come to the con-clusion that this is not your nat-u-ral hab-i-tat. Rath-er, hu-mans are soc-ial creat-ures but al-so need is-o-lat-ion at times and space to ex-ercise in.”

Matt appeared next to me then. His jaw was bright red and splotchy still. He scowled up at the intercom box. “We’re not fucking hamsters,” he said. “We can’t just run on a fucking wheel and be happy.”

“Wheel?” The voice behind the box must have drawn a blank.

“Never mind,” Matt grumbled. “What the hell you got planned for us now? The gases are still rampant, yeah?”

“Yes. But we have a sol-u-tion. We have con-struct-ed an out-door corr-i-dor. It is where this loc-a-tion’s caf-e-ter-i-a used to be?” The voice paused, unsure of the word. “A por-tion of it, at least. I have en-closed the a-re-a with-in clear bound-a-ries and in-stalled a vent-i-la-tion fan.”

“A bubble?” Matt asked. “You’re putting us in a freaking bubble?” He let his mouth fall open. “I was hoping you’d say you’d let us leave! This is so fucking ridiculous!” He threw his arms up in the air and began pacing.

“At least it’s some place different,” I muttered. “Where we can see the sky. Sunlight.”

David heaved a disappointed sigh from across the room. “And how are we supposed to trust that the air is really our artificial ventilated air?” he asked. “What if you mean to kill us? It would be an easy way to do it.” His face was drawn tight.

“You have to trust us,” the voice answered.

David shared a glance with Naomi and I. Naomi nodded, offering her silent vote. I nodded as well, the image of sunlight already skimming the surface of my imagination.

David shook his head, disagreeing. “I’m not convinced. Is there any way we can test the air in this corridor?”

Matt turned to us again, and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “We can throw the cat out there.”

My eyes went wide. “Hell, no!”

“What about…plants? Is the poison toxic to plants?” Naomi asked.

“All the veg-e-ta-tion out-side is still living,” the voice answered.

“Fuck it,” Matt mumbled. “I’ll go first. I’m young. Get me outta here.”

Naomi gasped. “Matt, no! You don’t have to do this.”

“You’re right. I don’t.” He shuffled his feet nervously. “But I’m gonna.” He shot me a glance. Is he trying to prove something?

The voice sounded pleased. “We will o-pen the seal.”

The double doors began to convulse as we heard what sounded like asphalt being ripped apart. The white layers of material in between the doors shattered as the glow of daylight poked its way through the cracks. Dust motes and remnants of alien goop scattered in the light like a playful child.

Matt approached the door in two cautious steps. He glanced back at me again. “And no, Sam, I’m not trying to make a point to you. I just want to do this.” His tone was soft, serious. I didn’t detect sarcasm.

Naomi stood up and placed a hand on Matt’s shoulder, squeezing it. “You sure about this?” she asked him, forcing him to meet her gaze.

“Yeah. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.” He met her gaze for a second and nodded. She let him go.

He placed a hand on the door’s handle and slowly pushed it open. It creaked like it hadn’t been opened in centuries. I swallowed hard. Would the aliens be awaiting us on the other side, or had their machines done the dirty work again for them?

David and I joined Naomi and Matt at the door, followed by Donna, Marge, Kisana, Charles, Julie, and Bruce. We were eager to finally get a glimpse of the aliens, if now was finally our time to do so. Matt inhaled deeply and pushed the door open just wide enough for him to step through.

A brilliant cone of daylight and hazy dust greeted us. Matt squinted and placed a hand above his eyes, shielding them from the sunlight. We all peeked over his shoulder anxiously. Everyone around us held their breaths, not wanting to breathe in the sunlit air. Matt stepped through the figments of light and debris and into the outside corridor.

David stepped forward and shut the door quickly behind Matt. “Now we wait,” he told us, leaving his hand on the handle.

“What did you see, Daddy?” Julie asked.

“Not much. There were no aliens. The machine, which must have broken the seal, was gone. All I saw was sunlight and the dome. The ground out there is concrete.”

“It’s been so long since we’ve seen the sun.” Marge murmured.

“That’s for sure,” I agreed. Kisana took a few steps toward me, and I tossed her a nervous smile.

She returned the smile and sighed. Our focus returned to the door before us. We waited. Donna and a few others started pacing anxiously. David’s hand remained on the door handle, his face rigid.

“How long do we wait?” he asked, hoping the aliens were listening. “How long does the poison take to start showing effects on the human body?”

The intercom crackled back on obediently. A chill shuddered up my spine. They really do watch our every move. “If you do not trust us, how are you to trust our an-swer to that quest-ion?”

They had a point. David’s brow furrowed. “Try me,” he answered.

“The gas-es take eff-ect in rough-ly three-point-five min-utes. In an-other sev-en min-utes, those aff-ect-ed were not breath-ing.”

“You…watched them?” I asked. “I thought you couldn’t even find them?”

“The gas-es be-have as though they are chok-ing your kind. The two sub-jects we found ran out of their hid-ing places and fell ov-er in the streets. Our app-rox-i-mat-ions are indeed app-rox-i-mate.”

“Subjects,” Naomi said quietly, her eyes dropping toward the floor. “Great term there.”

“Are we not stud-y-ing every as-pect of your be-hav-ior? Is that not acc-u-rate?”

Naomi shook her head. “Forget it.”

The intercom clicked off again, and David watched the seconds tick by on the face of his expensive-looking watch.

Finally, we heard banging on the other side of the door.

“Matt, you okay?” David screamed into the door.

Matt said nothing, but kept throwing his fists into the door. The bangs sounded frantic, increasing in frequency.

“Matt! Answer me!”

“Are you okay?” Naomi joined David in yelling.

Still no answer. The bangs continued.

“Jesus Christ, just open the door,” came a voice from behind. It was Bruce. His voice sounded tired. “Either we’re dead or we’re not. We can’t just leave him out there.”

David took a deep breath then swung the door wide open.

“About fucking time!” Matt stood with his arms crossed in front of him, stance wide, impatient. A grin materialized on his face as we all stared at him, wide-eyed.

“You asshole!” I yelled, slamming him in the chest with a palm. “You had us all freaking out!”

“Too easy.” His eyes sparkled.

We all let out the breaths we had been holding. Naomi shook her head at Matt. “You’re really okay?” she asked.

“Think so. So far.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “Wanna see for yourselves?” He stepped out of the way so we could go through the doorway.

We walked outside, and the sunlight shone down on us, piercing through the clear dome above our heads like a filtered sky-song. I wasn’t sure what a sky-song was, but the phrase drifted through my head as though a fog was being lifted. I liked the phrase. I gazed up at the sun and a wide grin overcame my face.

Kisana nudged my arm. I dropped my gaze to meet hers. She too, grinned. “It’s so beautiful,” she said.

I nodded, and looked around me. Everyone shared our joy in the sun’s rays, even though they came to us through a filter. “Can kinda feel its warmth,” I noted. Naomi had her arms open wide, taking it all in. Even my father had a smile on his face, and he wasn’t one to enjoy the sunshine. The children ran in circles around us, laughing and chasing one another. David clamped a hand on Matt’s shoulder. “That was brave,” he told him. Matt beamed.

From the dome, we could see the edges of the boarded-up school snake back behind the gymnasium. A weed-covered parking lot blanketed the area directly in front of the dome. Behind the parking lot was a street and alleyway. A few buildings were on either side of the alleyway, small business that looked like they had been closed down for the last ten years. Tall skyscrapers loomed in the distance, glinting in the hazy sunlight. Nothing stirred out there. Not a single fragment of life, except for the weeds and decrepit-looking trees.

“Come on, let’s check this place out,” I said to Kisana. She followed me as I inspected our surroundings. The base of the dome was ground firmly into the cement beneath our feet, held in place by alien wonder goop. I kicked the substance. It was as hard as the cement itself. “They must have brought two spaceships with them, one to carry all of this crap. They’ve used it everywhere.”

Kisana tested the walls of the dome with a fist. A solid thump answered her. The dome didn’t budge or quiver whatsoever. “Ow,” she mouthed, rubbing her hand.

“You okay?” I asked.

She nodded, and then looked up toward the roof of the gym. I followed her gaze. The dome was fastened to the roof with the goop as well.

There were a few orange lunch tables near us, the kind that were metal and cemented to the ground, with benches on either side. I followed the length of the corridor. It was about the size of our gym. A few half-dead trees and more lunch tables gathered dust just past where the dome ended. “Boy, they sure didn’t give us much room here,” I said. There was one pathetic tree within our dome, encircled by a tiny dirt patch. It looked like it hadn’t been watered in years, yet it somehow clung to life.

Naomi approached Kisana and I. “Not much of a place, is it?” she said. Simon followed her, tentatively inching his way around, sniffing.

“No, but at least we have both areas now. We can have our own space sort of. Hey, you and Marge make up or something?” Naomi wasn’t avoiding Marge like she had been a week ago.

She shrugged. “I got tired of being bitchy, and Charles likes the morning. It was an easy choice.”

I laughed. “I know I’m not ever going to tire of being bitchy toward Matt. I get far too much pleasure from it.”

Just then, the door behind us creaked. We turned around, expecting to see one of our own joining us, a little late for the party.

It wasn’t one of our own—it was a man we didn’t recognize. He was thin, balding, and looked to be in his late fifties. He wore a stained wife-beater shirt and a pair of torn work pants, with suspenders. His face was dirty, unshaven, and his eyes were black and beady-looking.

“It’s you!” Matt screamed. He backed up against the dome, as if trying to escape.

“Who?” Naomi asked. Her mouth gaped open in confusion.

“Does this a-re-a meet with your sat-is-fact-ion?” The voice came from the newcomer. It was the voice that had ran over the intercom system for weeks. A cold, mechanical voice. Not human.

My eyes opened wide, and my heart threatened to leap inside my throat. Kisana took a step backward. I grasped her hand in mine. Her skin was cool, clammy. “Is this your…real form?” I asked, my voice breaking apart. “And yes, this place is adequate, though it could be larger.”

“It will suff-ice,” the man stated. “We are not build-ing an-other.”

“And my first question?” Kisana’s grip tightened, and my heartbeat evened out a tiny bit at her reassuring touch.

“No.”

“Why?”

“You do not need to know why.”

“Psh,” Matt said, “That means you look like comic book aliens, green slimy skin and tentacles?”

“No.” The man—being—thing—cocked its head to one side, as if thinking. Its beady, unnatural eyes stared into mine. “We may show you in time.”

I heard my dad sit down noisily on one of the lunch tables behind me. He was out of breath. “So this is some kind of shield thing you’re wearing to fool us?” I asked, unsatisfied with the answers it’d given.

“A mod-i-fied dev-ice which shows a par-ti-cu-lar ill-u-sion, yes.”

“Why’d you wait this long to show yourself? Why the big carnival with the mechanical arms and machines, doing everything for you?”

“I need-ed time to dev-e-lop this tech-no-log-y, hence one of the rea-sons for us stud-y-ing you.”

“You sure learned our language fast.”

“Not fast. Two day and night cyc-les your time.”

I averted my gaze from his piercing eyes. They bothered me. Something odd struck me suddenly. “You said…‘I.’ Are you the leader or just in charge of us? You usually say ‘we.’”

“I am the man-ag-er of sci-ence and tech-nol-og-y. We have a coun-cil of sorts. I am one of the man-a-gers of such an org-an-i-za-tion.”

“So you were the first to come up with the shield and test it?”

“Yes.”

“Why this form?”

The being’s head cocked in the other direction. It seemed unsure of how to control the device’s movements. The motions were too quick and precise to be natural. “This was the first hu-man we capt-ured. It was the first dat-a we received.”

“What is your real gender?”

“Gen-ders have no mean-ing to us, nor do your pro-nouns.”

“You came to us before in this getup, too,” Matt said. “In the shed.”

“Yes. That was the first pro-to-type. This model is more ad-vanced.”

“What made you decide to join us physically?” David asked, one eyebrow raised. He held his arms protectively around Julie.

“The int-er-com will not reach out here.”

“Another question,” Matt said, taking a few steps toward the alien. “What do you use to observe us? Hidden cameras?” He shuffled his feet on the cement as he spoke.

“Yes. Our de-vic-es are far too small for your eyes.”

“So, nothing escapes you guys?”

“No.” Its head cocked again. “Why do you ask?”

Matt turned to Kisana and me suddenly. “So if these two fuck, you’ll hear them? Won’t that be awesome, Sam?” He grinned.

“Matt!” Naomi screamed.

Kisana’s hand left mine as the alien stared blankly at Matt, oblivious to the joke. I hit Matt on his chest again, harder this time.

The blow forced him to take a step back, right in front of the alien’s holographic image. “Geez, keep that up and your punches might actually hurt a bit!”

I swung at him again. He dodged this time, and the miss sent my body flying forward a couple feet, and into the alien’s hologram. My fist swept through the image of the man, and as it did, a bright white glow enveloped the hologram, my fist, and entire arm. I rebalanced myself, squinting at the force of the glow.

The alien jumped backward, glaring at me with wide, unblinking eyes as the glow dissipated. “Do-do not come for-ward!” it said. “It is quite frag-ile!”

I blinked a couple times, rubbing my fist that was still balled-up. It tingled, even though I hadn’t touched anything solid. “And bright,” I mumbled.

“Knock it off, you two,” Naomi said. She then turned to face the alien and looked him square in the eye. “You tested your thing. Now, please, leave us be, unless you’re telling us we’re free to go.”

The being shuffled its feet, and walked back into the gym, its movements slow and deliberate, like it was confused. David, Matt, Naomi, and a few others followed it into the room to see how it left the area.

I stayed outside, turning to Kisana. She had left my side. I found her in the very back, seated at a table. She watched me as I approached, a nervous expression encircling her face.

“Hey, don’t mind what Matt said,” I told her softly, taking a seat. “He’s just a dumbass.”

“I know, but…” She hesitated.

“Don’t worry. I’m not coming on to you. I just need a friend.” I gave her a warm smile. She met my gaze and returned the smile.

I was lying, of course. I wanted nothing more than to take her into my arms and help us both forget the dump of a place we were imprisoned in. But first, I had to make sure I wasn’t going to fall in love with another straight girl.

Chapter 12

The man awoke to his cellmates howling and exchanging blows over the last bottle of water. A drop of blood from the brawling duo dropped onto his arm, and he winced as the blood slid to the floor of the metal prison. He sat upright, clutching his head.

“Fucking Christ, we weren’t supposed to touch that bottle until tonight,” he grumbled at his fellow captives. The bottle wasn’t even full—less than a quarter of the water remained, but they hadn’t had food nor fresh water in too many days.

“We gotta stay alive somehow!” the teenager shouted. The youngster’s once-golden hair was dirty, coated in his own sweat and the dust from their prison. His clothes, like everyone else’s, were covered in his own waste.

They were trapped inside a rusted metal shed that contained stacks of rotting lumber. For days the prisoners had tried to use the lumber to beat their way out of the shed, but beyond the shed’s metallic walls was something much thicker and impossible to penetrate. Eventually they gave up trying to escape.

No one came to speak to them. They had tried pleading and yelling as loud as their lungs would let them, but never received any type of answer. They never saw their captors. There were no windows in the shed, and their only source of light came from small holes—chinks in the impenetrable material—found in corners where the walls met with the low ceiling.

The man frowned at the teenager hoarding the bottle and sighed. “Go ahead, drink it,” he told him, his dirty face stretched thin. The elderly man who had been fighting the teenager gasped and grabbed a piece of lumber, raising it above his head.

“Don’t!” the man clutching his head yelled. “He’s young—he’s got the highest chance of living among all of us!” In total there were eight prisoners, all of whom were older than twenty-five except for the teenager. Three women and five men.

“Fuck you, Larry,” the elderly man said. He dropped the lumber obligingly and staggered back toward the wall. His body slammed into the metal then slumped downward. He didn’t have the strength to fight anymore. No one did.

The teenager drank the water in one swift gulp, and then squashed the bottle angrily.

A roaring crash sounded from outside the metal door. Larry’s eyes opened wide. The teenager took a few steps backward, almost tripping over some loose lumber.

The woman near Larry screamed. “Now what?” she cried, tears sliding down her dirt-covered cheeks.

The door blasted wide open, and a mechanical arm began to take shape in the dusty sunlight. The arm held an orb-shaped shining object. It released the orb as Larry stared into the arm’s single spotlight. His fear was visible. The device quickly retreated, leaving the captives blinking at the daylight trickling in.

As the man next to him leaned forward to inspect the glimmering orb, Larry forced his body to stand upright. He lunged toward the door.

Slamming into the doorway, he grasped the door’s frame in a moment of desperate adrenaline, and the bomb went off, causing poisonous gas to unfurl itself into every corner of the tiny shed. Within seconds, the gas had begun entering all of the prisoners’ lungs.

Larry stumbled out into the blinding sunlight. The air that confronted him was just as poisonous.

He collapsed into the sunlight, his arms craning forward, reaching for some invisible object as he drew in his last breath. The remainder of the prisoners in the shed collapsed a moment later, even the teenager, who died clutching the empty water bottle still.

Chapter 13

I sat up in my tent and clutched my head, groaning. I must have been having some sort of weird dream, because when I opened my eyes, I blinked back the image of a bank of green, foul fog. Beams of sunlight lazily replaced the vile, phantom fog as they streamed through the flaps of my tent. Simon purred at me from the bundle of clothes he was curled up on.

“What the hell was I dreaming about?” I murmured, hoping no one would hear me. I already knew the answer—a dark, rank shed with pin points of sunlight piercing through and grown men fighting over an inch of water. I groaned again, held Simon close to my chest, and then got dressed and exited my tent. Now that we had more room to spread out in, we’d asked for larger tents. I could finally sit up in mine without making the thing fall over. I’d chosen a dark green tent—my favorite color—and pinned my tiny pride flag at the top.

It’d been two weeks since the door was opened, and some of us decided to move our tents into the outdoor corridor. I’d been the first to volunteer. Naomi’s tent was outside, as well as Kisana and her family’s. She and Joel had their own tents, but the entire family got along well. They were often together, talking, eating, and praying.

Kisana and I were holding tight to the friendship-only understanding. We laughed together, shared stories, and sometimes just laid next to each other in the dim light of dusk with a candle between our bodies, each of us reading. I’d been trying my best to not come on to her though it was hard sometimes. I wanted nothing more than to grab hold of her and never let go. But a quiet voice of self-doubt told me that she wasn’t gay. If she was, she would have mentioned it. Then again, she never spoke of past boyfriends, so that made me wonder. I was afraid to ask her. Her smile kept me sane.

Kisana and her family ate breakfast across the corridor from me. As I watched them, a cold sensation drifted up my back. The people in my dream hadn’t gotten any food delivered to them. I shivered and then stooped back inside my tent to grab a sweatshirt. I needed to get my mind off that stupid dream.

Naomi approached Simon and me, her hair up in a high ponytail. She used to keep it in tiny braids, but without the right hair supplies, she finally had given up, lovingly calling it her “afro-turf” instead. She held up a piece of wood. “Morning,” I said. “What’s that?”

“I’m not sure,” she said. “I was thinking maybe you had been using it for something last night before you went to bed.”

“Nope. Where would I get it anyway?” I gave her a confused look.

“That’s what I wondered.” She turned over the wood. It almost looked like an old sign that used to be painted red but was heavily faded. The wood was marred with deep gouges. Naomi shrugged.

“Where was it?”

She pointed toward the double doors leading to the gym. “Just inside, leaning against the wall, close to your hole.” She started walking and motioned for me to follow.

“Odd.” I zipped up my tent and joined her. I waved to Kisana and her family as we passed them. They waved back cheerfully. I followed Naomi to the corner that I had destroyed weeks ago, and inspected the wall, rapping my knuckles against it. I peered inside the hole, where it was still solid with the alien super goop. How could a chunk of wood have gotten inside?

“Was our…friend here, maybe?” I asked.

Naomi shook her head. “We haven’t seen him since the day he opened the doors.” It’d taken our food and grocery requests via the intercom, but that was it. We hadn’t even seen how it had disappeared that day. Everyone who followed the alien back into the gym watched as it gradually vanished into nothingness.

“Damn aliens and their technology,” I grumbled. “Damn us for writing about them as science fiction. Giving them ideas to create the actual gadgets and devices we write about.”

“Now you’re sounding like David,” she said with a raised eyebrow. “We did tell the alien not to come back unless it was time to let us free or if they had David’s family,” Naomi reminded me, staring back at the plank of wood.

We were interrupted by a sudden, resonating boom in the distance and the ground moving beneath our feet. Naomi and I grabbed each other for support as we tried to discern the source of the shaking. Simon darted into the safety of my tent as Naomi and I ran outside to get a glimpse from the clear dome.

A colossal, bronze cloud of dust and debris expanded in the distance. We stared out of the dome, squinting. I couldn’t tell what the cloud was, or what it had been before.

The shaking stopped as abruptly as it had started, and Kisana and her family joined us. “What was that?” Marie asked, clutching her husband’s arm.

“Another building exploding,” Naomi said, eyes still focused on the dust cloud. “I think that was the city’s government office building. But I can’t be sure. We’re too far away.”

“Whatever it was, it’s gone now,” I offered, sharing an empathetic glance with Marie. “We heard something like this one of our first nights here.”

“Did they do it?” Joel asked, joining us in squinting outside at the rising dust cloud.

I shook my head. “I don’t know.” The memory of last night’s dream sank into my brain again. It was too much of a coincidence to see an explosion the day after dreaming about one.

Everyone inside the gym filed out to watch the debris cloud. David joined us at Naomi’s side. “Here they fucking go again,” he said, his gaze anxious.

“Maybe it was a gas leak inside the parking garage,” I said. “A car’s gas tank could have been leaking this whole time, and something sparked.”

He shook his head, and then fiddled with an end of his mustache. “Doubtful. It’s more plausible that the simplest explanation is the real one, don’t you think?”

“Yes, but…They’ve kept us alive. They’ve killed others, yet kept us alive. What sense does that make?”

“There were people in that building?” David asked.

“No. Well, we have no idea.” I stopped myself, embarrassed that I had mentioned my dream like it had been real. I stared out at the dying weeds just beyond the scope of the dome. A dusty breeze swirled around them. “They said they were testing our architecture before. Why would they continue? Why a government building?”

David frowned. “I wish I knew.”

We stared out at the gigantic dust cloud for another ten minutes, watching as it slowly dissipated into the San Francisco air. We didn’t say anything to each other, and even the children were silent as they clutched the arms of their parents. When the cloud finally disappeared enough for us to see beneath it, all that remained was a pile of rubble. It faced the sky like a defeated warrior after a hard-fought battle.

People began to head back into the gym for food or shelter from the view before us. Everyone seemed deep in thought, their steps unhurried. Matt joined David, Naomi, and me at the dome’s sloped edge, shuffling his feet with every step.

“Do you think you guys could ask the aliens for some exercise equipment next time you talk to them?” His voice was hushed, as if he were afraid to ruin our solemn mood. “You know. Some dumbbells, barbells, a workout bench, and maybe one of those manual treadmills or stationary bikes—stuff like that.”

David nodded, and then averted his gaze from the dissipating cloud. “Yeah, definitely. That’s a great idea, Matt. We need to stop sulking so much about this shit. Exercise equipment would be great.”

Matt nodded and left the three of us to our silence. Everyone probably had figured us “council members” needed to convene. I didn’t know what we were supposed to convene about. There wasn’t a damn thing we could do about buildings exploding around us like fire crackers.

I sighed, and then faced David and Naomi. “I had a stupid dream last night,” I told them. “It was about a shed full of people that were being kept captive like us. Only they were left to their own hunger and thirst and violent ways until the aliens finally just chucked a bomb into their shed and blew them to smithereens.”

“And you think that’s what happened today?” Naomi asked quietly.

I shook my head. “I dunno. I just thought it was too much of a coincidence. I don’t know what to make of it honestly.” I went back to staring out at the pile of rubble.

“It is a bit strange,” David admitted. “But what sense does it make for the aliens to want to control your dreams? Unless, of course…” His eyes met with the hard cement beneath us suddenly. “Unless they meant it as a warning.”

“‘Be good or else we’ll fuck you up’? Is that the message?” I stared at him. My voice had an edge to it. I wasn’t sure whether I felt anger or fear churning in the pits of my stomach.

“I don’t know, Sam. I’m just thinking aloud.” His eyes met mine briefly, and then retreated back to the wall of the dome.

“We don’t even know what they want from us,” Naomi added. “They haven’t told us to do anything in particular, or act a particular way. It’s like we are just hamsters running around in wheels to them. What could they possibly gain by trying to threaten us?”

I shook my head again. “Hell if I know. This is all so fucking ridiculous.” I then turned away from them. “I’m gonna go find my cat and get us something to eat.”

Walking back into the gym, I realized just how separated everyone had become now that we had more room. Each tent had at least five feet between the next, and most of the built-in benches weren’t used for sitting anymore. Rather, they were now division lines. We’d asked for fabric camping chairs last week, so people were using those to loaf around in. It was quiet inside, the mood sullen.

My eyes swept around the room, looking for Kisana. I didn’t see her anywhere, but then again, it was a Sunday. Sundays were always family time for her, even here. She told me she hated the Sunday tradition, but never quite knew how to tell her family that.

I found Simon in a tight ball in the corner of my tent. I coaxed him out and fed him, rubbing his ears as he relaxed. As I walked toward the food pantry, Marge stopped me. She wore a simple cotton house dress and a worried expression. “Sam, may I have a moment?”

“Of course,” I said, taking a seat on a nearby loafing chair. I didn’t know whose it was, but it didn’t matter. I gestured to the chair next to it.

Marge took a seat at the very edge of the chair and took a deep breath. Her brow furrowed. “Bruce isn’t doing well. He needs to see a doctor.”

“What’s wrong?” She expected me to sit up suddenly, frantic, but it didn’t faze me much.

“He hasn’t been able to get up out of bed today. He says he’s too tired. I had to fight with him yesterday to get up. His head always hurts him. I’ve been giving him the liquid morphine he asked for, but it doesn’t seem to do much for him. I’m worried.”

“He’s been getting pretty weak, I know. How is his breathing?”

She wrung her hands in her lap. “Not good. It sounds very labored. He sounds congested.”

I nodded, and then met her worried gaze. “I’m sorry, Marge. I told you his cancer had come back. That since he wasn’t undergoing treatment, there was a very high chance of it spreading. His immune system is too weak to fight anything off, especially given all this…stress.”

“It was…in his mouth before?”

I stared down at the arm of my chair, picking at a loose, white thread. I wasn’t sure I had the courage to face her directly. “Throat too. The doctors suspected that if it were to spread, it’d strike either his lymph nodes or…his brain.”

Her voice wavered. “Which is it?”

“I’m guessing his brain, due to the head pain. He had some head pain last time, but morphine and even Vicodin were generally strong enough to take care of it.” I reached out and put my hand over her clasped palms. “The congestion is probably pneumonia. He had a bad case of it last winter too.”

My touch seemed to relax her. “Can we get antibiotics for it?”

“We could, but I don’t recall the name of what he took last year.”

“I know of a couple. Could we get them all and try them, see which helps?”

“Sure. He might even remember. He’s good with that stuff.”

“Yes he is.” She clasped my hand between both of hers.

“This whole experience has been tiring on him. I’m sorry, Marge. I wish there was something we could do about the cancer here, but there isn’t.” I finally raised my head, meeting her watery gaze. My heart clenched unwillingly. “There’s no way he’d survive chemo and radiation again.”

She didn’t speak for a moment. Her eyes drifted down to our stacked hands. “No, don’t be sorry,” she said, smiling weakly. “I’m glad to have gotten to know him, no matter how much time we have left.”

“Good, I’m glad. I know he appreciates you so much.” I returned the weak smile. “Thank you, for everything.”

“He’s a good man. He’s a bit…stubborn but beneath it all, he’s a good man.”

“I know, Marge. I know.” How much has he told her about our relationship and how strained it’s become? I didn’t have the heart to ask her right now.

“How much time do you think he has left?” she asked, her voice almost a whisper.

“Hard to say. How’s his sugar been?”

“Not good. Even with the insulin.”

Bruce hadn’t been on diabetic insulin since he was finishing his last rounds of chemo and radiation. His levels had remained stable with pills. A week ago, his levels spiked again, so we decided to get some. We had the aliens deliver a whole refrigerator’s worth of it. Luckily they had found an old fridge that wasn’t quite defrosted all the way, so it was still somewhat cold.

“That’s partially because of the pneumonia,” I said. “And partially because his body’s working overtime trying to fight the cancer. Increase the insulin. Get some antibiotics. Keep him extremely hydrated, and we’ll see.” I paused, realizing that she wanted more of an answer than that. I wished I had some inkling. “He might have anywhere from a week to a couple months, depending on if we manage to fight the pneumonia off or not. He might eventually slip into a coma.”

“You forgot one thing,” she said.

“What’s that?”

“We shall pray.”

“He’s not very religious, just so you know.”

Marge clasped my hand again. “I know. We’ve had this talk. He’s okay with it as long as it does us some good. That’s enough for me.”

“Well, okay then.”

“Thanks, Sam,” she told me, standing up. “You’ve been the best daughter to him.”

“Is he awake now?”

“No, not when I left him, at least.”

“Let me know when he wakes up? I need to see him, but I don’t want to disturb his rest.”

“Of course.” She gave my hand one more squeeze, and then tossed me a quick smile as she flittered back to Bruce’s tent.

I sat alone in the fabric chair. A part of me wasn’t sure I wanted to speak to him when his body was undergoing so much stress. He’d just ask me a bazillion questions that I couldn’t answer. I wasn’t a fucking doctor. I didn’t know what Marge would tell him and what she’d keep from him. It was best to leave that decision up to her.

Food didn’t sound good to me anymore. I wanted Kisana to walk up to me with a smile lighting up the corners of her face, helping me forget this entire day had dawned. But family days lasted until the sun went down. I stood up and ambled out to my tent. The tent fabric rustled beneath my fingers as I opened the flap and then closed it again. I stared at the zipper. Reading and napping didn’t appeal to me either.

I wandered over to the puny half-dead tree that was near my tent. Kisana and I had decided to try and bring it back to life. We watered it regularly and even asked for some potting soil and vitamins. We dug up some of the dry, hard soil and replaced it with the potting mixture.

I sat down on the ground next to the tree and put my head in my hands. Simon wandered over and purred at my feet.

A tiny pearlescent winged bug landed on a dry tree branch, and started crawling toward the heart of the tree, seeking sanctuary from our weird, artificial air. I wondered how the bug got inside our dome, and debated squashing it. I was worried it might eat the tree’s leaves that barely clung to life.

One bug couldn’t do much harm. It might be special, like a super-bug, with the ability to somehow penetrate our invisible shield and seek out our pathetic little tree in the midst of such a tragic city.

Chapter 14

“What if we’re the only people alive in all of San Francisco?” Kisana asked me a few days later as she tossed a chunk of warm potato in her mouth.

We sat together, side by side, eating boiled potato wedges on the table near my tent. Naomi had cooked up an entire box of overgrown potatoes the aliens had come across. After cutting off the rotten parts, there hadn’t been much that was salvageable, but what she had managed to save was pretty tasty, especially when mixed with some ranch seasoning mix.

I shrugged. “I guess we figure out how to rebuild. Get people to move back into the city.”

“That’s assuming we’re even alive still by the time the gas dissipates.” Kisana’s gaze was centered on a dust cloud just outside our barrier. Another tall building exploded this afternoon. The dust was just starting to settle now as the sun began setting around us. We’d seen another two explosions since the destruction of the government building. The force from the initial explosions and the ground rumbling beneath us were almost becoming familiar to us. Yet, we always stared at the settling rubble all day afterward, as Kisana and I did now.

I guess the truth was that we had nothing better to do but wonder how our last days would carry out. It was obvious that the aliens were holding something back from us. We just didn’t know how terrible the truth really was. Our single contact still hadn’t spoken to us. It asked us to lay our list of requests by the metal hatch it still used to deliver our goods and then shut down the intercom. We demanded it to tell us what they were doing to the buildings around us, but it never responded.

“Maybe they’re fattening us up to feed to their green, slimy kids,” Kisana said, chuckling softly.

“Man, if they are, they better find a way to make us some cheeseburgers or something. Burgers, chili cheese fries, steak, barbeque chicken, pastrami, fried zucchini, and pizza. I could go on…” I shot her a smile.

“Fresh pasta! Spaghetti, fettuccine alfredo, manicotti!”

“Shrimp scampi!”

“Now we’re talking.” She returned the smile, and the two of us laughed together as we finished our potatoes.

Her face became serious again. “How’s your dad, by the way?”

“Not good.” I swallowed the mouthful of food I had in my mouth. “He’s on antibiotics and a high dose of insulin, but his sugar levels are still spiking. He’s not getting any better. I went to see him again this morning. He couldn’t even keep his eyes open for more than five minutes. Every day he seems to be staying awake less and less.”

“I’m sorry, Sam. How’s his attitude?”

“He’s a stubborn ass.” I smiled weakly. “I’m just glad he’s got Marge. He really does care about her. He’s like a whole new person now, except for, you know, his…assness.”

“Once an ass always an ass?”

“Oh yeah. For three of those five minutes I was with him, he was screaming at me about his medications. For the other two, he was bitching about not being able to watch TV or read anymore.”

“Maybe you could read to him sometime,” Kisana suggested.

“I could. Non-fiction crap is boring, though.”

“You should read him your story.” She beamed at me.

I rolled my eyes at her. Ever since she encouraged me to start writing again, I’d started a fantasy short story. It was coming along slowly. Very, very slowly. It was like I’d lost some of my passion somehow, or my neat vocabulary, or…something. It didn’t seem like my real writing voice. Kisana insisted I was just rusty. “Yeah, right.” I laughed. “I know, I’ll write up a sex scene and read him that—he ought to enjoy that.”

“Marge might too.” She joined me in laughter. Our laughter was weak, barely surviving amidst the harsh topic of my father’s worsening health, but it did us both a bit of good.

Matt passed by us, stopping to stare at the dust cloud for a moment. We quieted. He had sweat dripping down his neck and carried a towel. He gave us an odd look and then continued on his way.

He disappeared back into the gym, and Kisana and I remained quiet for a minute. I missed our laughter already.

“I see the guys like the gym you asked for,” Kisana said, breaking our silence.

“Yeah, that was probably Matt’s one and only good idea.” I finished my potatoes and set down the plastic bowl. “I hate exercising, but even I’ve used the weights a few times. It’s a good way to let off steam.”

Kisana raised an eyebrow at me.

“What?” I laughed. “I know I look like a lazy bum. Well, I kinda am one. But I can have my energetic moments too.” I continued laughing. The words sounded silly, even to my own ears.

“You sure you not turning into a big ol’ butch on me?” She laughed despite trying not to.

“You never know,” I said, grinning. “I’d probably look pretty slick in a suit.”

“You think so, huh? I kind of agree.”

“No butch is complete without her femme,” I teased, wiggling my eyebrows. “Does that mean you’re offering?” As soon as the words escaped my mouth, I regretted them.

Our eyes met for a brief second, and she shifted her gaze away from me.

The grin on my face dissolved. “I’m sorry, Kisana. That was pretty stupid of me.”

She stared out at the settling dust cloud again. “It’s okay. I should have seen it coming. I provoked it.”

“No. I shouldn’t have said it. I know you’re straight. It was uncalled for. It’s that simple.”

Kisana shook her head slowly. She glanced around the outdoor corridor. We were by ourselves. For whatever reason, everyone else was inside. The dust-ridden twilight was ours alone. She then turned her head toward me, and our eyes locked. “I’m…not exactly straight,” she whispered.

My heart jumped inside my chest disobediently, and my face began to flush. “Wh-what?”

She sat down her bowl and then averted her gaze back to the pile of debris. “I always thought I might be bisexual,” she said. “But I grew up in a religious family, a strict Spanish household…so I just kind of tried to forget about it.”

The sun started to sink behind the cloud of debris as I tried to calm the frantic beating of my heart. I was crazy about her—it was freaking obvious to me. But I didn’t want to seem too eager.

“I buried myself in my schoolwork, my artwork. I haven’t dated a man in over a year. My family’s been bugging me about it, but I just can’t bring myself to want to date a man right now.” Her eyes met mine again. They shone bright against the backdrop of the setting sun and the hazy dust in the air. “Then I met you. You’re so strong, self-assertive about who you are. Your father doesn’t approve, yet it doesn’t stop you from being who you are. I am…jealous of that.”

“It took me years to get to that point,” I added softly. “And I still feel like a sack of shit whenever someone mentions it around him.” I’d told her my story of coming out to Bruce. “But if this has been something within you for years…” I paused, knowing that I had to choose my words carefully. “I think you owe it to yourself to at least explore it.”

Heat rose to my face again. Those probably weren’t the right words. “Not explore it with me necessarily, but I, uh…I’m pretty bad at this…” I gave up. Nothing I was saying made any sense, even to me.

“Sam,” she murmured, the autumnal hues of her eyes blazing into mine like a comet’s tail. Kisana leaned toward me and cupped my chin in her hand. She closed her eyes and pressed her lips to mine. Her kiss was silky, with the perfect amount of ferocity. Her lips were the softest lips I’d ever felt against mine. The scent of her skin sent waves of pure joy through me like a subtle, extraordinary rain.

The setting sun flared in front of us as our lips parted. She kept a gentle hand under my chin as I scooted closer to her and wrapped an arm around her slender waist.

“I guess that’s one way to…explore,” I said, my face tightening as a grin enveloped its surface. “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this…”

“Oh, I think I had some idea,” she admitted, a bashful grin appearing on her face, keeping mine company.

I thought back to the night when she reached down and pulled me up from the depths of my own self-pity, paired with stucco shreds and a garden trowel. I laughed and raised my eyebrows, feigning innocence. “I guess I wasn’t too subtle?”

“No, not at all. But I like that about you.”

I brushed my hand against her cheek softly, grinning still, as I relished the feel of her velvety skin. My hand crept behind her head and into her hair. I brought her head closer to mine, closed my eyes, and initiated the kiss this time. My heart lit up like a field of dancing fire flies.

Chapter 15

Kisana and I spent a few days trying to avoid everyone else and enjoying each other’s company. She didn’t want her parents to find out about us yet, but avoiding them was getting difficult. I hated feeling like a love-drunk teenager, but my insides swam with a silvery sheen of happiness every time I saw a smile appear on Kisana’s face. I just couldn’t help myself. I wanted to spend every waking moment absorbing her warmth.

She was with me now, atop our lunch table. We called it our hideout. I had moved my tent closer to it and set up a cardboard wall of sorts, blocking the table from anyone else’s view.

We continued to find little scraps of blown-apart wood inside the gym. David assumed the little bits came from all the exploding buildings though no one was entirely sure. We had even found bits of cardboard and metal. Joel, Kisana’s brother, had found a beaten-up hubcap. He had placed it outside his tent like some kind of trophy. I couldn’t say much. My silly flag was still my trophy.

I started using the small bits of wood and metal to solidify the cardboard wall, creating a little world of sorts for Kisana and me. We leaned against each other now, watching the sun dip down against the horizon. Simon was curled up in a ball between us, sound asleep.

“What’s your favorite time of the day?” I asked. “Mine’s now. Dusk.”

“Dusk and dawn are both beautiful,” Kisana said. “Especially today’s. But the promise of dawn—a new start—means more to us as human beings, I think.”

I nodded. There hadn’t been any explosions today, and the sky wasn’t a rust-covered portrait for once. Deep blue shimmered in a melody of pink, orange, and a hint of violet. There were some clouds in the distance that looked like rain clouds.

“What will a storm be like under this dome?” I wondered aloud.

“Might be pretty noisy. You’re just trying to change the subject, aren’t you?” She shook her head accusingly and smiled.

I laughed. “Maybe.”

Kisana had tried to talk me into reading my story to my father again. My story was a whole eleven pages now—not long at all—but he had never read to me when I was a child. The thought of reading to him now didn’t sit right with me. Marge had told me this morning that she didn’t think he had much longer. Maybe a couple of days or a week if we were lucky.

She sighed. “I don’t understand why you’re being so stubborn. You haven’t been to see him in the last couple of days, have you?” She took my hand in hers and traced my palm between two fingers. Her touch was so smooth. My hands felt dry in comparison.

I shifted and met her concerned gaze. “Dang, I was hoping you wouldn’t notice,” I said in a low voice. “I guess I’m scared. I hate being scared.”

“Scared of saying goodbye?”

I shook my head. “Scared of finding some neat little bow to wrap up our whole relationship, our whole life together. I don’t think it exists…but if it does, I’m afraid to see what it looks like. I’m afraid to let anyone else see. What if it’s neon green?”

Kisana frowned at me. “Who cares what it looks like? Who cares what others think? As long as you get solace from it, it doesn’t have to be neat and tidy. Everyone’s personal relationships are so different, there’s no point in comparing yours with anyone else’s. Cancer…doesn’t come gift-wrapped. Just be there for him and make sure he’s comfortable.”

I squeezed her hand, grinning. “I’m so glad you understood that goofy analogy.”

“I try.” She smiled a crooked smile. “Besides, if you asked the aliens for gift bows, you’d get neon green anyway. May as well make the most from what we have.”

“All right,” I said, “enough of this stalling. Your smile has convinced me.” I hopped off our table and moved the bit of cardboard where it ended. I had cut part of it loose, so it formed a hinge and a makeshift gate.

She followed. “I’ll get us some dinner. What would you like?”

Simon poked his head up at the mention of food and joined us. I exited the gate and held it open for them, peering left and right. Naomi was at another table, rinsing out some clothes, and Joel passed us, carrying another piece of metal that looked like it came off a car.

“Thanks for stopping by, Kisana. I appreciate the help with my story!” I said, my voice extra loud. “Oh, hi, Joel! Find more random parts?”

“Yeah,” he said, giving me an odd look. “Found this just now. I don’t know what I’m going to do with it yet…maybe build a fence like you have.” He shuffled off quickly. He probably thought I was crazy.

Kisana emerged from our hideout and raised an eyebrow at me. I tossed her a grin and finally answered her question in my normal volume. “Mac ’n’ cheese?”

She chuckled at me, shaking her head. “You’re such a goof. Mac ’n’ cheese sounds good. I’ll make us some.”

I shut the cardboard gate behind us, and watched her make her way into the gym. Simon and Kisana had become fast friends, and he sauntered after her. I liked the way Kisana’s ass looked in jeans. I couldn’t wait until summer, when tight shorts were in season.

“Helping you with your story. Yeah, I believe that one, girl,” Naomi said from her table. A wide smile encompassed her face.

I grinned at her in response. “Good, because it’s true, you know. She’s a pretty fucking awesome muse.”

“Mmhm. I’m sure.”

“So.” I cleared my throat. “I do have to ask you something.”

“Sure, what’s up?”

“Actually, hold on a sec.” I left her side and stuck my head inside the gym, peering around. “David! Come here!” I shouted.

He was playing a board game with Julie and Han. He looked up at my shouting, mouthed a quick apology to the kids, and then joined me at the door.

“Sorry, this’ll only take a minute.”

“No problem. They were kicking my butt anyway.” He smiled. With the lack of explosions today, it had been a good day for most of us.

We walked back to Naomi. Thankfully we were the only ones outside besides Joel, who was on the opposite end of the corridor, fiddling with his metal piece.

“I have a request,” I said, “concerning Bruce.”

David nodded at me to continue.

“He doesn’t have much longer. I’d like to do something for him. He loved his old TV westerns. I want to get a TV and DVD player in here, and I want to request some of our generated electricity. Just enough to show him an hour and a half movie.”

Naomi took a step back from her water bucket, letting the clothes drip on the cement. “You know we need those generators for the ventilation system,” she said. “We don’t even know how much longer the generators will last.”

“I know.” I shoved my hands in the pockets of my jeans. “I’ve tried to think of other things I could do for him, but nothing else fits. We tried getting a laptop computer in here, remember, to use just as long as its battery power would last. We couldn’t even get it to power on.”

David nodded. That had been his idea. A good one, but whatever was making our cell phones not power on affected mobile computers as well. He figured it had to do with the type of batteries we used and the aliens’ power sources conflicting with the batteries and satellites.

“I don’t know, Sam,” Naomi said, shaking her head. “I think we should save all the energy we can, to make sure we live as long as possible.”

“I wouldn’t be asking this if he weren’t dying,” I said softly. “You know that.”

David twisted an end of his mustache. “If we do it for you, everyone else will start wanting similar treatment. The kids will want cartoon shows, the guys will want golf tournaments, and the women will want their soaps. We have to treat everyone the same, no exceptions.”

I glared at him. “Okay. If anyone else’s loved ones die, they can have the same fucking treatment. How’s that?”

His gaze softened at my words as he stared down at the concrete.

“What did I say?” I asked, my brows furrowing together. Then it dawned on me. “Oh. I…didn’t mean your loved ones. They have to be fine still. Somewhere.”

David refused to look up at me.

“Go ahead, Sam,” Naomi said quietly. “We’ll let everyone know the extreme circumstances. Bruce deserves…something. More than this shit hole can offer. Just, please don’t choose Gone with the Wind or something that’s six hours long.”

“I won’t. An hour and a half, tops.” I turned to David again. “I’m sorry…”

He gave me a slight nod, and then disappeared back inside the gym.

“Dammit,” I mumbled. “There I go again.”

“He’ll be okay,” Naomi said, turning back to her laundry. She began spreading the clean clothes out on the benches to dry. “He knows you meant no harm by it.”

I sighed. “Wouldn’t be so bad if our alien guy would at least talk to us. We don’t know if they’re safe or if the entire city’s caving in on us.”

She finished with the laundry and put her hands on her hips. “Doesn’t do us any good to start fussing. You know that. Now, I’m gonna go attempt to make chicken salad.”

“Chicken?” My eyes lit up as I momentarily forgot about David’s frustration.

“It’s just the canned shit. I’m gonna add some dry pea soup to it.”

“That sounds…interesting. I think I’ll stick with the mac ’n’ cheese Kisana is making. Tell David I’m sorry. Please.”

“Will do.” Naomi tossed me a quick smile then started to head inside. “Don’t forget dessert!” she added, cheekily.

Chapter 16

My dad’s face was pale through the gray-tinted glow emanating from the tiny television with a built-in DVD player that sat in front of us. The four of us watched Roy Rogers in My Pal Trigger inside Bruce’s tent. The TV was perched on a cloth chair. My dad lay on his cot, propped up by pillows with Marge at his side, holding his hand. I was at his other side with Simon on my lap. Kisana was in a chair next to me, our fingers meshed together.

On the screen, a field of clouds roamed overhead. Roy tried to reassure Trigger, his young colt, that life was a balancing act of good and bad, wins and losses, and fun days and hard times. He had just shot Trigger’s mother, who was badly hurt and wouldn’t survive. Trigger whinnied, attempting to find the sense in it all.

It was a black and white movie, one my father had enjoyed as a young boy. He’d always loved movies about what he referred to as the “good ol’ days.” As annoying as the shoddy camera work, bad special effects, forced dialogue, and terrible overall sound quality could be, I found myself enjoying simple movies like this at times. Their messages were simple, yet somehow profound. People were good to each other, and when they weren’t, they paid the price.

In My Pal Trigger, Roy gets wrongfully arrested for shooting a horse he’d wished to use as a sire for his mare. Roy, of course, eventually finds out who the real shooter is and raises Trigger to be the finest horse there ever was. Justice is served, Roy is rewarded, and they all live happily ever after with twin colts. Growing up, my dad had loved showing me movies about horses and puppies. It was probably one of the reasons I loved animals so much even though at the time, I had watched them while scowling.

Bruce and I hadn’t exchanged many words during this visit. His vision had seemed to glaze over while I’d asked him mundane questions about his pain, if he had enough blankets, and if he was sleeping well. A spark of light had shown in his eyes when I’d asked him if Marge was treating him well.

“Oh yes,” he had said, nodding his head enthusiastically.

I smiled. That nod must have taken quite a bit of energy.

I watched the two of them interact and couldn’t help but be reminded of how he and my mother had acted when I was little. Marge did everything for Bruce. She had to because of his condition, but also because she wanted to. He was actually polite and appreciative toward her, which had been missing from his and Sara’s relationship for the last six years of it.

My dad hadn’t freaked out about Kisana being with me although I wasn’t entirely sure he understood how close she and I were. I introduced her as my girlfriend, and we’d been holding hands the entire time, but I think the idea of me with another woman was so foreign to him that he pushed it aside as far as he could. Either that, or he really was feeling too terrible to fight it.

On the TV screen, Trigger paced around his stable, being a good, nervous daddy while his two baby colts were born in a different pen. He, of course, didn’t know they were supposed to be twins, so when two came out instead of one, he fainted, falling to the hay. My dad smiled through the dim light of the TV, and I couldn’t help the smile that took shape on my own face. Kisana squeezed my hand.

The credits started to roll across the screen, and I stood up to flip the TV off, kicking Simon off my lap. The cat flicked his tail at me and left the tent in search of food. David and Naomi weren’t exactly happy about our decision to do this for Bruce, but I didn’t care what anyone thought. I’d rather have had this hour and a half with my father and his pale smile than an extra hour or two suffocating in agony as poisonous gas entered my lungs and killed me.

Bruce’s tent seemed dark without the light of the TV. Kisana left to grab her lantern, and Marge turned on both Bruce’s and hers. I had a single tea light candle shoved in my pocket, along with a cigarette lighter I stole from Donna. I took the candle out and lit it, setting it on the TV tray next to Bruce’s bed.

My dad turned to me and caught a glimpse of the tiny, flickering candle. He smiled again. “Thank you, Sam,” he whispered.

I joined him at his bedside then reached out and grasped his hand. It was cold and shaking slightly as I held it in mine. His skin was so pale it was almost translucent, and his breathing was labored.

“No problem at all,” I said, squeezing his hand. “It was the least I could do.”

He opened his mouth as if to speak, but no words came out. Marge hovered over him on the opposite side of his cot. Her aged yet pretty face was etched with worry, but she didn’t say anything.

“Shh,” I told him, “if it’s too hard to talk, don’t. Save your strength.”

He shook his head forcefully. He managed to croak out a few words, his voice hoarse. “Is she…the one…for you?”

My eyes widened in surprise. “I…thought you didn’t want to know anything about my dating habits.” I caught a glare from Marge. Now wasn’t the time to stress him out.

His head shook with a sudden wave of tremors, and he looked at me as though he was annoyed. “I just…want to know if you’re happy,” he said, his words deliberate.

“I am. She makes me very happy.” I smiled down at him. “I’m glad to see Marge makes you happy, too.”

“Roy…Rogers…too.” His head still shook, but he smiled widely. His grin was rather goofy-looking—all gums—but I was glad to see it. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d seen him grin.

His gaze started to glaze over again. The tremors stopped, and he began to close his eyes. His breathing became easier, relaxed.

“I think he needs to rest,” Marge whispered.

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.” I looked down at his pale features through the candlelight. Kisana returned outside the tent. She set down her lit lantern, lighting up the entrance, but remained outside to give us privacy.

“Thank you so much for the movie,” Marge said, as she began tucking in blankets around Bruce and straightening the pillows behind his back. “I enjoyed it, and I know he did as well.”

I nodded and watched my father’s features become peaceful as his eyes fully closed. His breaths became slower and slower. I let go of his hand, and bent down over his face, kissing his forehead in the muted light of the tiny candle and our camping lanterns. His chest rose and fell once more, then stopped. Marge stopped fussing with his blankets. We stared at his chest together, waiting for him to take another breath, as we held our own. That breath never came.

I didn’t know what to say. I simply stared. A couple seconds of silence passed, and I let out a deep breath then stepped toward Marge and held out my arms. She embraced me as she burst into tears, warm drops falling down her face and onto my sweatshirt. I felt like I should join her in crying, but I couldn’t. My mind and body felt like they were stuck in slow motion. My brain wanted me to think I was still watching the colt named Trigger prance along on the TV screen.

“Oh, Bruce,” Marge murmured. “Why didn’t we meet in some other place, some other time, when we were younger…”

“I think you’ll meet each other again,” I whispered. “Someday.”

She lifted herself off my chest and stared at me, her face tear-struck. She sniffled. “I thought you didn’t believe in the afterlife?”

“I don’t know what’s out there. No one does. But it might be true, right? Isn’t that enough?”

Marge nodded and then grabbed a tissue from the Kleenex box on the TV tray, wiping her eyes. She went to Bruce’s side, where she bent down and kissed his lips softly. “Did you hear that, dear? Dear Bruce. One day, we’ll meet again.” An exhausted smile appeared on her face for a single moment, her soft blue eyes twinkling with a flicker of hope.

My voice was hushed when I spoke again. “Let me find out what the next step is.”

“Would you mind if I say a few prayers in private first? I have my bible here.” She pointed to Bruce’s pile of books.

“No, feel free. I’ll get someone to help us with him when you’re ready.” I walked to the tent’s entrance then stopped, gazing back at my father’s frame and Marge’s sad face. “Will you be okay?”

“Yes,” Marge replied, her voice barely above a whisper. Another tear trickled down her cheek toward her smudged lipstick. “Are you sure you’ve said your goodbyes?”

I nodded slowly. “I’m sorry. I’m not very good with this.”

“It’s okay, dear. You showed him you love him—that’s what matters.” She started fussing with the blankets around Bruce’s body again, smoothing them into place. “Thank you again, Sam.”

“Thank you, for being so wonderful,” I whispered.

I left the candle glowing in his tent and met Kisana outside, carefully closing the tent flaps after me. David and Naomi waited outside with Kisana, and all three faces were solemn. The rest of the gym was quiet. Everyone else must have gone to bed early since it was so dark tonight. It was storming outside, so our light sources—the single window and the light streaming in from the door—were useless.

Kisana held up her lantern and reached out for my hand. I gave it to her, and she squeezed it tight. “Thanks,” I whispered. She must have realized what had happened and fetched David and Naomi.

“Marge will let us know when she’s ready,” I said quietly, turning to Naomi as I spoke. “She’s saying her goodbyes. What’re we doing with the…body?”

“This morning we told our alien representative that we’d need his assistance in a couple of days. We asked him to cremate the body, if possible, and return the ashes, so you can do as you please with them. I hope that’s fine.”

I nodded. “What’d it say?”

“Not much. But it agreed.”

“Okay.” I opened my mouth, searching for words, but none came. Kisana squeezed my hand again.

“Go ahead, Sam, we got this,” Naomi whispered, giving me a quick hug. “Get some rest.”

Kisana led me out of the quiet gym, through the dark corridor, and into my cardboard gate. She closed the gate behind us, and we climbed atop our table. She wrapped her arms around me. I let myself fall into her embrace, closing my eyes tightly. I was grateful for her warmth and familiar scent as both enveloped me like a freshly-washed down comforter.

“You okay, babe?” she asked softly, speaking into my hair. Her breath tickled my scalp. A loose strand of my hair plopped onto my forehead. My hair was starting to go all over the place again. I needed a trim. I hated my hair and the way it randomly curled, which was part of the reason I kept it cropped short. Kisana pushed the loose strand back into place.

I kept my eyes closed, focusing only on the warmth of her body as it spread through me. I shook my head. I needed to say something, but I didn’t have the energy to track down the words.

The rain poured over our heads now that we were directly beneath the dome. The drops collided against the hard surface of the dome noisily. It almost sounded like thunder.

“The rain,” I whispered. “It reminds me of when I was little girl. I used to take empty cat food cans and place them outside along the house’s eaves. We didn’t have rain gutters, so when it rained, the rain would just cascade off the eaves of the house and onto the cans. It created a noisy symphony that reminded me of those Jamaican steel drum bands.”

Kisana wrapped her arms tighter around me. She leaned her head against mine. “You were a strange kid,” she said.

I tossed her a fragment of a smile. “It used to piss my mom off.”

“Rain is beautiful. Why not enjoy its melody? It’s kind of like…wind chimes.”

“I love wind chimes.”

“Me too. I could have a whole yard full.”

“Sounds good. Let’s buy a wind chime and cat-food-can-band house one day.”

Kisana’s laughter harmonized with the sound of the storm. “Feel like trying to sleep?”

“Will you…sleep with me?” I asked, opening my eyes and pulling away from her chest just far enough, so I could gaze into her soft, green eyes. I could barely see them in the dim lantern light.

“Of course, you cat food can master. Come on.” She helped me off the table, and led me into my tent. Before I zipped the flaps shut, I glimpsed up at the blackened dome. The huge water drops plopped off the top, rolling down the curved side, their bellies tumbling over and over. In our own little world inside this dome, Kisana and I were safe from the individual water droplets, but not from reality’s downpour.

Exhaustion hit me like a freight train as I stepped inside my tent. I gazed down at Kisana. I knew she was nervous by the way she sat. She perched herself at the end of my sleeping bag, looking as though she was ready to stand up again at any moment. I couldn’t help but grin at her. “Don’t worry, Kisana, I’m not gonna seduce you…yet. I just need you close to me tonight. I hope you understand.”

She relaxed. “I do, Sam. I do. Lie down; get some rest. I’m here for you.” She sat the lantern above the head of my sleeping bag.

I collapsed onto the sleeping bag, kicking off my shoes. Luckily I had the sleeping bag spread out like a comforter, rather than a single-sized sleeping bag, on top of a foam mattress. I had a wad of blankets to the side of the tent I used for when it was cold. I dragged them out, setting them between us. I slid off my jeans and sweatshirt, wiggled out of my sports bra, and flung the discarded clothes aside. All I had on now were my T-shirt and underwear.

I tossed Kisana a teasing smile as I turned to face her. She had stripped down to her T-shirt and panties too. Her panties had little red hearts on them. She grabbed a blanket and tossed it over my face as I lay there, watching her. I grinned at her from under the blanket. She smoothed the blankets around us and then joined me beneath them, uncovering my head.

She caught me watching her again. “You’re such a goof,” she noted, smiling.

I wrapped my arms around her and then scooted closer, so my head was on her chest. I could hear her heartbeat. “You’re so warm,” I murmured.

She kissed my lips softly, and I burrowed deeper into her chest. Her breasts were soft under my head.

Simon climbed into the tent through the hole I had left open for him at the bottom. He gave Kisana a challenging stare for being on his side of the bed. He crawled up to both of us, finding a place to curl up behind the small of my back.

“I know you’re not religious,” Kisana whispered, stroking my forearm, “but your dad’s in a place now where he knows no pain.”

I closed my eyes tightly, and tears formed behind my eyelids. I wanted to say something but, again, couldn’t find the words. I struggled to search for them as we listened to the rain.

She kissed my forehead. “You did everything you could for him. He lived a good life because of you. Don’t ever think otherwise.”

I sniffled loudly as the tears couldn’t be controlled any longer. “You always know just what I’m thinking,” I said. “How do you…do that?”

She shushed me with another gentle kiss. “It’s my secret.” She reached above her head, clicked off the lantern, and then wrapped both of her arms around me again. “One day I’ll tell you all about it. For now, just know that you are…loved.”

She smiled against my forehead. Tears began to flow freely down my face as I sobbed into Kisana’s chest. She held me close and didn’t say anything else to me. She didn’t need to. Eventually, we fell asleep as the rain continued its symphony above our heads.

Chapter 17

The next morning, I awoke to Kisana’s head pillowed on my chest and the rain still pinging overhead. I liked where her head was. She was sound asleep, and I kissed her forehead softly, not wishing to disturb her. I studied the movements in her face as she breathed deep, slumbery breaths. Her cheeks were the color of bronze chestnuts, with a tint of hazy red. I longed to caress them. I could get used to waking up like this.

I popped my head up to see if she was fully covered in blankets. Part of her rear end was uncovered. Her panty line, a couple of red hearts, and some tasty-looking skin were peeking out from beneath the edge of the blankets.

A lazy smile snuck onto my face as Kisana stirred beside me. Her eyes fluttered open. I scooted back, gazing into her sleepy face. She blushed.

I smiled down at her, brushing her cheek with my hand. “Morning beautiful,” I whispered, my voice husky.

She returned the smile through rose-tinted cheeks. “Morning. You make a good pillow apparently.”

“So do you.” I grinned at her. “See, this gay thing has its perks. Waking up on a soft chest is way more comfortable than waking up to some guy wanting a blow job before you’ve brushed your teeth.”

She laughed. “That is pretty awful.”

I cleared my throat and gave her the theatrical boyfriend impersonation, complete with a goofy, high-pitched voice. “‘Good morning! You’re up! Oh, look who else is up! I know what would make this a perfect morning!’ Oh man. Talk about wanting to shove a dick down someone’s throat.”

Kisana laughed again. “I can picture you doing that. That is, if you were straight.”

“I used to think I was,” I said. “Pretty stupid in hindsight. I was also pretty tame back then, so I wouldn’t have considered dick-cramming. I sure thought about it though.” My grin slipped from my face. “It makes me kinda sad to think about how timid I used to be. But I guess that’s part of growing up.”

“Changing?”

“Mmhm.” I shifted so I was laying on my back, facing the tent’s ceiling. Kisana snuggled up against me, resting her head on my stomach. I rubbed her back lazily.

“How’s it hitting you today?” she asked, peering up at my face.

I shrugged. “I’m still pretty numb. I’m glad I cried though. Thank you for that.” I sat up just enough to run my fingers through her silky locks of hair.

“It’s okay to be numb, you know. Considering your relationship with him.”

“My mother’s death was a lot harder on me, especially considering how much of an ass my father was about it afterward.”

“Oh yeah?”

“He’d just been diagnosed with cancer before she died and was starting chemo and shit. He was feeling pretty terrible, but the day she died he wouldn’t even drive down to see me. I didn’t see him until the funeral which was two weeks later. He lived an hour away.” I played with a loose strand of Kisana’s hair.

“The real thing that pissed me off, though, was the fact that at her fucking funeral, while we were waiting for it to start, he was nagging me about selling her house already.”

Kisana shook her head. “He was a strange man,” she said. “And an ass. Even though he never thought himself to be one.”

“Pretty much.” We lounged in a comfortable silence as I continued stroking her hair.

“How did your mother die?”

I let the silence between us rest a bit more. “Heart attack,” I finally said. “She was all alone. I don’t remember much…except that I didn’t get there in time.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s okay. I just don’t remember much. Funny how stuff gets pushed out of your mind sometimes.”

“Yeah.” The silence settled in once again. “Want something to eat, Sam?”

“I’m not sure. I guess we should get up. I need to find out how Marge is and what they did with his body.” I sighed. She gave me a tight squeeze and we sat up together.

I shuffled through my random piles in the corner of my tent for clean clothes while she put on hers from yesterday. Simon was sprawled out in my dirty clothes pile, still sound asleep and snoring. By the time I’d picked out a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, Kisana was completely dressed. “Going for a speed record in throwing clothes on?”

“Sorry,” she said, a soft blush highlighting the corners of her lopsided smile.

I grinned at her. “You’re pretty damn cute when you play shy.”

That caused her blush to deepen. I leaned forward and kissed her.

After our lips parted, she tousled my messy hair, and then stood up. “I’ll go find some clean clothes.”

“Okay. Meet you by the food station once I’m done blabbing to people?”

She nodded, exiting my tent. She turned her face toward the sky. “Still pouring,” she murmured. “It’s not any lighter out here than it was last night.”

I grimaced. I liked the rain, but sunlight was useful for important things like seeing. She wandered off, her gaze still averted toward the dome’s ceiling, and I continued fishing around for clothes and my comb.

An hour later, Kisana and I sat on our usual table with a pile of dried fruit and granola bars between us. Simon munched on cat food beneath us. We were starting to run out of options for food. All the tuna, canned chicken, and dried meat from the local stores were gone, along with the powdered juices, milk, and cheese products. I had a hard time believing the stores were out of tuna and powdered juice. It seemed mathematically impossible. It made me think back to my dream from the other night. The aliens must be feeding some of the other captives besides us. There was no way we could eat an entire city’s worth of canned tuna and Kool-Aid packets, even if we had been here for over two months now.

“Did you get your dad’s ashes?” Kisana asked as she picked through the pile of fruit.

“Yeah,” I said, gesturing toward the cardboard box laying just inside the entrance to my tent. “Naomi said they delivered it half an hour after picking up his body last night.”

“A cardboard box? I’m surprised she didn’t ask for an urn.”

I opened the wrapper of a chocolate chip granola bar. “Didn’t think of it probably.” I shrugged. “It’s okay. The box doesn’t matter.”

“What’re you doing with the ashes when we get out of here?”

“He has a plot paid for at Rose Hills, down south. My mom and both of his parents are buried there already. He’ll be next to them.” I took a big bite, and then stared up at the rain drops above us. The rain was still plummeting down in its combative rhythm, and the darkness of the day was our mediator.

Kisana looked impressed. “He was on top of things.”

“He tried.” My eyes were glued to the dome looming above us still. “Naomi said that Marge is taking it pretty hard. She couldn’t sleep last night.”

“Damn.”

“I feel like I should do something for her, but I don’t know what.”

“You’ve got yourself to worry about, Sam,” Kisana reminded me. “You don’t have to take care of anyone anymore.”

I met her soft gaze and took another bite of my granola bar. “I know. I just keep thinking that if they had met earlier in life, she might have been my stepmother.”

“And that makes you obligated now, when she isn’t? They’ve only known each other for the time we’ve been trapped here.”

“So? She was important to him.”

“What do you think she deserves?”

“I don’t even know.” I stared up at the rain droplets again, sighing. “Leave it to my father to not mention anything about his will and Marge. Not that he has money left. Doctor’s bills ate up his retirement. Part of the reason he moved in with me.”

“He mentioned one thing. He wanted to know if you were happy. That was what was important to him.” Kisana wrapped one arm around my waist as she nibbled on a fruit chunk.

I grumbled and slammed a fist on the table beneath us. “It’s been so fucking long since I’ve been happy. I don’t even know what the word means anymore.”

“Sam, look at me.” Kisana turned my head toward hers gently, forcing me to look into her eyes. “It doesn’t matter what the definition is. You carve out that happiness as you go along—nothing else matters. You just live in the moment.”

“Yeah, but how?” I scowled at her.

“By doing this…” She leaned toward me and kissed my lips, brushing away a loose strand of my hair that had fallen onto my forehead. I felt a surge of heat make its way through my veins and chest and into my beating heart, awakening me from my rain-trodden mood.

Her hand remained on my cheek as our lips parted. She wore the same smile that I’d fallen in love with the night she saved me from myself. “I’m sorry, Kisana,” I told her, my voice low. “I know I’m being a pain in the ass.”

“No, you’re not. Now, let me show you another way to be happy. I’ll be right back.” She smiled at me and hopped off our table, making her way out of the gate.

I shook my head, a smile edging onto my face. I didn’t know what I did to deserve that beautiful, life-saving woman, but I was fucking grateful to have her in my life.

“Sam?” a voice asked. Naomi’s. Her head poked up over the top of my cardboard fence, along with the light of her lantern. She looked worried.

“Yeah?”

“Come here for a sec.” She started walking, motioning for me to follow.

“Sure.” I hopped off the table, taking the last of the dried apricots with me, and then followed her inside the gym.

She led to me a dark corner close to our food station. She set the lantern down so I could see. The corner was empty except for a large pile of dust, trash, and some remaining chunks of stucco. “Gee, I wonder who left this mess here,” I said sheepishly, staring down at the pile.

“No, not that. Above.”

I moved my eyes upward. “What the hell is that…?”

There was a shard of wet metal sticking out of what looked like thin air. I poked the metal. It was solid. I knelt down and looked behind the gap where it ended. I waved my hand in the gap. It passed through air. I looked up at Naomi, hoping for some kind of explanation.

She shrugged. “I haven’t the foggiest. This corner’s been dark since it started raining, so we’ve ignored it. I think this is where our random hunks of wood and metal are coming from.”

I yanked at the piece of metal, and it fell easily from wherever it came from, landing on my foot. I picked it up and inspected it. It looked like a chunk from a torn window pane. There were no marks in it indicating that it had been attached to something. It was wet, as if it had been out in the rain. A small puddle formed beneath the spot where the metal had been, but that was the only indication that anything was ever there. Naomi and I waved our hands around through the empty air. We felt nothing.

David joined us, his eyes and mustache drooping downward.

“Hey, you,” I said. “What’s wrong?”

He stuffed his hands into his pockets. “I’m worried about the rest of my family. Our buddy finally spoke to us today, only to tell us that the city’s food rations are running out.”

“I heard. On the bright side, that probably means there are other survivors.”

The corners of his mouth twitched as he considered that. “Have you had any more dreams?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “You didn’t get a chance to ask about the random junk we keep finding, did you?” I pointed to the seemingly-empty corner.

“No. We got cut off. I do have a theory, however.”

A hint of a smile appeared on my face. “Was hoping you might.”

David stepped forward, clearing his throat. His eyes lit up with the sheen of curiosity. “Maybe this is what the alien used to transport itself here.”

“Like some kind of invisible teleportation warp hole?”

“Something like that.”

“Damn alien technology,” I mumbled, kicking my foot where we had seen the metal. My foot zipped through the air.

“It must only work from the other end, since we keep getting junk in here. Doesn’t seem to work on our end.”

“The other end must be outside, since we keep getting scraps from the explosions,” I added.

“Most likely. But what I can’t figure out is…” He stroked his mustache. “Isn’t the air poisonous outside? How are we getting trash, but no air, rain, or accompanying poison?”

“That’s, um, a good question. It looks like we’re getting some random rain drops, but not many.”

David frowned. “What if this is all a hoax?”

Naomi threw her hands up into the air, exasperated. “Honey, if this is hoax, whoever did it needs to get a life. Way too realistic.”

“Yeah, that goop, the technology,” I muttered. “Doesn’t seem possible.”

“Then what about the poison?” David grumbled. “Why hasn’t it entered our area along with the debris?”

“Well, either the junk isn’t from outside, or the portal only works for solid objects.”

David mulled over both possibilities. “I guess we can’t be sure about the extent of their technology, although that seems a bit far-fetched.”

“This whole thing seems far-fetched,” Naomi said. “Maybe there just isn’t any poison.”

David turned toward the intercom box and marched up to it. “We demand you speak to us!” he screamed. “We demand more answers!”

Naomi grabbed his arm forcefully. “David! Charles and Marge are napping!”

David’s tone softened as the black box remained silent. “I can’t stand this silence,” he murmured, walking away from us.

Naomi sighed as we watched him disappear into his and Julie’s tent. “This whole mess is frustrating, but that man is like a time bomb.”

“He needs his family,” I whispered. Exhaustion and grief hit me suddenly. “I don’t know what to do about this hole if we can’t get any answers. Mind if I go back to Kisana?”

She put her arm around my shoulders. “Of course. You doing okay, hon?”

“Maybe. I don’t really know.” I sighed, and then hugged her.

“One day at a time, Sam. That’s all we can do.”

I nodded, at a loss for words.

Naomi gave me one last squeeze. She turned around and grabbed her carry-all bag, handing me a handful of votive candles and two of her chocolate bars. “Here, let some light into the darkness.”

I gave her a tired smile. “Thanks. You’re the best.” I made my way outside again. For whatever reason, I was still clutching the metal piece. I contemplated giving it to Joel but decided against it.

When I returned to the cardboard gate, Kisana was waiting for me. “I was wondering where you went,” she said.

“Sorry, Naomi stole me.” I entered the gate and closed it behind us.

“Everything okay?”

I sighed and told her about what we found.

“More of that alien’s experiments?”

“That’s my guess. I can’t figure the alien out. First it seemed genuinely curious, if not rude, but now it doesn’t want anything to do with us.”

“Hard to make heads or tails of any of this,” she muttered.

My gaze fell for an instant. There was a large box in Kisana’s arms. I gestured toward it. “What’s that?”

She tossed me a quick grin, attempting to distract me. “You go first.”

“Oh, right.” I tossed down the metal bit. “I might use that for uh, something. These are gifts from Naomi.” I held up the bundle of candles.

“Nice. Well…” She paused, grinning still. “I thought I’d ask for some painting supplies. I want us to think positive. I’m going to paint a landscape of our little domed home. Years from now, when we’re free and successful and happy…we’ll have something to look back on and laugh about.”

I smiled. Her ploy worked. “I like that idea.”

“We’ll be little old ladies sitting on a porch swing, staring at this thing, asking, ‘Why didn’t we ask for a bomb kit from the aliens?’”

I set down my candles, and then set down Kisana’s box for her. I took her in my arms and brought her body close, kissing her deeply.

“Are we still together in this little vision of yours?” I asked as our lips parted.

“If you want us to be. It’s our vision.” Her smile forced my insides to begin melting away all the frustration I’d felt mere moments ago.

“I want that more than anything. Am I still working at Crazy Cluckers?”

Kisana laughed. “That one’s easy to answer. Hell no.”

“This is sounding better by the minute.”

Chapter 18

The rain kept pouring down outside. The woman named Sandra shivered. There was little relief from the winter storm. She held her daughter, Carrie, as tight as she could, but the girl’s body still shook with freezing tremors.

“Are there anymore sacks back there?” Sandra asked, teeth chattering.

“Nuh-uh,” Carrie said.

They’d used everything they could think of to stay warm, even wrapped themselves up in damp burlap sacks. The dampness from outside had made its way inside their tiny boat cabin, everything quickly becoming drenched.

Three other people were with them in the cabin. A young boy of about twelve, an elderly woman, and a middle-aged man who kept to himself. All except Sandra and her daughter had been strangers to each other previous to their capture. They’d been inside the apartment complex across from the pier when the machine with its mechanical arm and spotlight tore up the street and crashed through the first floor windows. Sandra and the others had sprinted down the street as fast as their legs could carry them but found themselves yanked up and dumped into the cabin. The door had been locked since.

They didn’t know who was holding them captive. They never saw their captors, never spoke to them, and never saw daylight after their imprisonment. The only reason they’d stayed alive this long was because the cabin had a supply cupboard full of jugs of emergency drinking water and cases containing old cans of SpaghettiOs.

There were no windows, but they could tell the boat was still docked at shore. The sounds of water slapping up against the boat’s hull and nearby dock had become as familiar as the feeling of falling asleep chilled to the bone.

The young boy joined Sandra and Carrie on the floor in the middle of the cabin, and Sandra pulled him close. The boy had been quiet all day. No matter how much Carrie coaxed him into sharing stories or telling jokes, he remained shivering and sullen. Sandra heaved a deep sigh and ran her fingers through his hair.

“Come sit with us,” Sandra called to the elderly woman, where she stood staring at a darkened wall.

“If only we had the tools to break our way free,” the lady mumbled. Her white hair was disheveled, and her once-golden dress lay in tatters around her shriveling form. She joined the three on the ground, where they sat watching the middle-aged man pace back and forth in front of them.

He never stopped pacing, except when he was trying to fitfully sleep. His steps had become more and more strained and uneven as the days went on. One day, he would be unable to take another step. He barely said two words to any of them. All they knew about him was that his name was Bob.

“We tried,” Sandra said. They had torn off a chair leg to try and hack their way out. Then they had tried using the chair itself. They had even tried using pasta cans. Nothing had worked. The walls were thick, but not thick enough to stop moisture from seeping through.

Sandra glanced down at the boy. He looked like he wanted to cry. She wrapped one arm around the boy, the other around Carrie, and rubbed his hair with her chin. The boy stopped fidgeting.

They heard a series of ominous clangs from right outside the ship’s cabin. The clangs ended in a resounding thud, and then they heard nothing except the rain. The rain continued pouring down as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Bob stopped pacing and stared at the locked door in front of them. Sandra looked wide-eyed at the children.

“Hello?” Sandra cried out. “Is anybody out there?”

Bob placed his ear to the door.

“Hear anything?” Sandra asked him.

His eyes went wide and his face pale as a low, whistling noise filtered in through the boat’s hull, increasing in volume. The whistling shifted into fizzling.

“Why’s the storm making funny noises?” Carrie asked.

“I…don’t think that’s the storm,” Bob said.

An explosion sounded, and the children screamed, clutching Sandra. “Wh-what was that?” the boy stammered.

Bob’s eyes widened even further, and he collapsed onto the floor of the cabin, gaping upward at the locked door.

A wave of heat barreled through the cabin’s wall, accompanied by a deafening roar. Sandra leaned toward it. The heat compelled her. She stood up, pushing the boy in her lap aside.

“Mommy! What are you doing?” Carrie screamed into her ear.

Sandra was oblivious. She needed that warmth.

“Mommy!”

A wall of solid fire bombarded the cabin, destroying any remaining memories of once being chilled.

Chapter 19

A fire churned in front of me, singing to me through crimson and canary-yellow waves of grass. It smiled at me, a lolling clown-grin that was painted on its brilliant, blinding features.

I sat up in bed, breathing hard, and a heated drop of sweat fell onto my sleeping bag from my forehead. Kisana was sound asleep next to me, cuddled up in my blankets with Simon curled next to her. It’s freaking cold. Why am I sweating?

I glanced around the tent for my tiny battery-operated clock. It was so dark, I could barely see Kisana and my cat, let alone a dinky plastic clock. Two votive candles burned slowly in the darkness. I grabbed one and shoved it into the corners of my tent, searching until I found it. Three a.m.

Shivering, I felt my forehead. It didn’t feel like I had a fever. Maybe it was the dream. I stood up carefully as to not disturb Kisana and Simon, shouldered on a robe, and then made my way outside to my table, carrying the candle. I was just about to hop on the table and stare up at the storm that was still hammering down when I noticed the gleam from a lantern shining through the cracks in my cardboard wall.

I tiptoed out of the gate and made my way toward the light. David sat huddled against the wall of our dome, his arms hugging his knees. His eyes met mine slowly as I approached him.

I sat in front of him, cross-legged, and placed my candle between us. “Having trouble sleeping?” I asked.

He nodded. “It’s so dark, even during the day. Day and night feel the same. What about you?”

“I had another dream.” I sighed.

“Same type?”

“Mmhm. This time the prisoners died in a fire that resulted from an explosion.” I shook my head and began fussing with the end of my robe’s tie. “I felt that fire, David.”

“Let me ask you something.” He searched my eyes softly. “Does time seem to have…progressed between the two dreams? What I mean is, were they kept captive about as long as we have been both times?”

“I’m not sure, honestly. These people had their own food supply, so they weren’t starving to death, but they were so cold and wet. It was like they were really out in this.” I raised my head toward the storm. “I’m one of those writers who likes to write about their dreams whenever possible, but dammit, these are so real. They wear me out. Physically.”

“I still don’t understand why they’d use you as a psychic source if that’s what in fact they’re doing.”

“It doesn’t make sense,” I admitted, “but you know what was weird about this dream? It mentioned names. More than mentioned them. It showed me I knew these people and their names, without having to mention them.”

“Names?” David’s eyes glimmered in the dim light. “Do you remember them?”

My brow tightened as I struggled to remember the names of the woman and the little girl. “Not really…”

I stared into David’s eyes. My narrator—the woman—was David’s age, and the girl had closely resembled Julie. I felt like the dome had suddenly sprang open above my head, and the raindrops had turned into hulking boulders. I averted my gaze as the possibility surged through my sleep-deprived brain.

“Sam?” David prodded. “I saw that hint of recognition in your eyes. You know something.”

I met his gaze again. “Nah,” I said. “I really don’t remember anything particular. It just seemed so sad.”

“You sure?” His mustache rose and fell as he searched my face.

“Names never stick in my head. Sorry. I don’t think they’re infusing these dreams into my memory. There’s no reason for it. No lesson to teach us.” I felt my gaze drop again as I took a deep breath. It can’t be. It has to be a coincidence.

“You dreamed about a mother and daughter pair, didn’t you?”

I stared at the candle in front of me as it flickered gently into the darkness around us. There wasn’t much life left to the tiny votive. I would need to ask Naomi for more. “Maybe.”

“Tell me where they were held captive. Was it in an apartment building across from the pier? Or a nearby building?” David grabbed my shoulders though I barely felt his touch.

“In a boat, tied to the dock. The boat could have been anywhere, David. San Francisco has lots of boats. There’s no reason that it had to be—”

“Tell me. Were their names Sandra and Carrie?”

My eyes closed, and the image of dancing flames burned itself into my memory.

“Tell me!”

Through closed eyelids, I imagined a single tear rolling down David’s cheek.

“God dammit, Sam, don’t do this to me! Was it them?” His shouts rang out through the entire corridor, above the clamor of the rainstorm.

Our neighbors shuffled noisily in their tents as they awoke to David’s desperate cries. “Yes. It was them.”

He collapsed on top of me, howling, and it took all my strength to hold him upright. I kept my eyes shut tight against his sweater as tears of my own formed. David’s howls became one with the memory of Carrie’s screams.

A warm hand grasped my shoulder, and I opened my eyes to see Naomi embracing David and me. She met my gaze, awaiting an explanation. I wasn’t sure I had one.

Kisana wrapped her arms around me from the other side, and the four of us huddled together, listening to David howl beneath the storm.

I wasn’t sure how much time had passed. Dawn tinted the edges of the rain-trodden sky when David finally rose from my embrace, lifting his tear-filled face to us.

“I’m sorry, David,” I said, standing up. It was then that I noticed our entire group was circling us. Confusion covered each face. Julie ran past my legs and looked up at her father.

“I had another dream,” I offered. “This one was about David’s wife and other daughter, and they…” I didn’t want to complete the sentence. Instead, I shook my head.

“They what, Daddy?” Julie asked. “Where’s Mommy and Carrie?”

David stared down at me.

“Well, we don’t know it happened for sure,” I said, avoiding his gaze and meeting Julie’s instead. I knelt down to her height. “It was a bad dream. That’s all.”

“You woke us up because of a fucking bad dream?” Matt grumbled.

The group around us murmured. David shoved me and everyone else aside as he took large strides toward the gym, his features like weathered concrete.

“Daddy!” Julie cried.

Naomi picked up the little girl and hushed her. “Don’t you do anything foolish, David!” she called out. “And Matt, shut your mouth.” She gave him a quick glare.

David ignored her and disappeared inside the gym. The rest of the group followed.

Kisana grabbed my arm, keeping me outside. “Why didn’t you wake me?” she asked after everyone had left.

I shared a distraught glance with her. “I didn’t think it was anything. Just a random dream.”

“It still could be.”

I shook my head as a shiver rode up my spine.

The rain pounded overhead, and inside the gym, David bellowed at the top of his lungs. “I demand you speak to me!” his voice rang. “You owe us an explanation! What happened to my family? What’s this dream bullshit?”

I stared out of the dome toward the timid light of dawn as it struggled to break through the heavy clouds. Kisana wrapped her arms around me and held me close, kissing my neck.

David kept shouting his demands over and over. Naomi screamed at him to cut it out and give it a rest. Julie burst into tears as she tried to get her father to stop sounding so angry. Matt screamed at him, and his cussing made Charles burst into tears as well. Everyone tried to stop David, and everyone failed.

I finally turned to Kisana. Our eyes met one another’s silently.

“It’s not your fault, Sam,” she said. “I know what’s going through your head.”

“I have to go to him.”

“That’s fine. Don’t blame yourself, though. We don’t know it’s true until we hear it from them. Remember that.” She kissed me, and as our lips parted, Pablo and Marie appeared in the lit doorway of the gym.

“So Matt’s jokes were true,” Marie said. “This is what you’ve been doing behind our backs.” She stared at us through darkened eyes.

Kisana shrank behind me, and I stepped forward, grasping her hand in mine. “May I remind you she’s an adult?”

Marie’s mouth gaped open. “It doesn’t matter! That is not our way, and you know it, Kisana! And you didn’t even have the courtesy to tell us. What would Mother Mary say?”

“I was going to tell you!” Kisana said. “It never felt like the right time.”

“Right time?” Pablo said. “There is never a right time to go against God’s plan.”

Crimson banners flashed before my eyes. David continued shrieking and bellowing from inside the gym, his voice growing hoarse.

“Fuck God’s plan,” I said. “There’s nothing you can do to stop us. There’s nothing, I repeat, nothing wrong with us being together.”

“Except in the eyes of heaven!” Pablo’s voice rose to meet mine and David’s.

“Heaven?” I yelled, waving my arm in a wild circle. “I don’t see heaven here! I don’t see anything that even fucking resembles clouds and flittering angels. I see a man inside that gym who needs God more than anything and gets shit in return. I see a woman who’s lived God’s life thus far and denies her own happiness as a result. I see us living in fucking tents and shitting in a bucket, and you want to tell us that we should think about heaven?”

I stopped to take a deep breath and felt Kisana’s hand tremble within mine. Pablo stared at me open-mouthed. Marie burst into tears behind him.

“Speak to us, whoever you are! You can’t ignore me forever!” David screeched.

I glanced next to me and saw that Kisana had joined my side again. Her face was moist with tears, but resolute. She nodded to me when our eyes met.

“Fuck your heaven,” I said. “We’ll make our own.”

Chapter 20

The intercom box stared at me, challenging me. I knelt down in front of the wall. It still hadn’t crackled with life and brought us the truth or falsity of my dream. Wherever the alien was, or whatever it was doing, it wanted to watch us struggle with the silence. David was sound asleep, his form crumpled in a defeated heap below the intercom. It was just past noon, more than twenty-four hours after the clamorous dawn we had all shared. He had continued screaming his demands into the wall until almost two in the morning, when he collapsed from fatigue.

I knelt in front of him now, brushing a loose strand of hair from his flushed face. I set down a glass of water and some coffee in front of him. He hadn’t drank or eaten anything the previous day, and I wasn’t sure when he’d awaken, but I knew I wanted to be there for him when he did. I slumped down against the wall.

Marge joined me after a while, carrying a fabric chair with her. She took a seat and shook her head at David’s exhausted frame. “Poor boy,” she whispered. “He might sleep for a while yet if you’re waiting for him.”

“I know,” I said, “but I have nowhere else to go.”

“And how’s Kisana? I couldn’t help but hear all the commotion yesterday.”

I grimaced at the memory. “I think she’s still sleeping. She was up all night arguing with her parents.”

“Did they reach a conclusion?”

I shrugged. “Not sure. She requested that we sleep in separate tents. I wanted to go with her when she spoke to them, but she insisted on going alone.”

“I’m sure she appreciated you standing up for her yesterday, but she needed to do the same—for herself.”

“I know,” I sighed. “I wish all religious people were as accepting as you.”

“Well, when you get to my age, it suddenly seems silly to spend so much energy wasted on things we can’t control. I like to believe that as long as God’s children are happy, God is happy. Once we leave this place, our happiness will never look the same again.”

I smiled weakly. “If that had been the premises of religion described to me years ago, I might’ve gone for it. How you holding up anyway?” I hadn’t talked to Marge much since Bruce’s death.

“As well as to be expected,” Marge said, frowning. “I don’t really know what to do with myself now.”

I reached up and clasped her frail hand under mine. “Well, I got a job for you. Interested?”

The frown on her face vanished, and she nodded.

“Can you make me a stack of peanut butter sandwiches? I’m hungry, and I’m sure David and Kisana will be too, once they wake their sleepy butts up.”

She laughed. “I can certainly help you there.” She gave my hand a squeeze and scurried off to the pantry.

As she made her way across the gym, David began to stir awake. A dry groan escaped him.

“Still with us?” I asked. “You look like you belong in a body bag.”

He groaned again and struggled to sit upright. He eyed the coffee, grabbed the cup, and gulped it down.

“You might want this first.” I shoved the glass of water toward him.

David gulped down the last of the coffee then moved on to the water. He met my eyes for a brief moment, throwing me a frustrated glance.

I chose to ignore it. “Marge is making us sandwiches. How’d you sleep?”

He motioned for me to wait while he finished quenching his thirst. Finally, he set down his glass with a loud thump. “Where is Julie?” he croaked.

“She’s fine. Naomi and Donna have been taking care of her. I think they’re all napping right now. You, um, kinda kept most people up later than usual.” I tossed him a smile, hoping to ease some of his pain by making light of the situation.

“Have they said anything?”

“No. Sorry.” I sighed. The man could be stubborn when he wanted to be.

Marge flittered by, depositing a plate of sandwiches and more water in front of us. She handed me a can of food for Simon, smiled, and walked away again. I guess she figured David and I needed some time alone.

We ate our sandwiches in silence, David wolfing down two of them before I finished my one. He drank his fill of water then turned to me.

“I wanted to be a hero to my family,” he said, his voice soft. “I wanted us to survive this mess together. I wanted to be there for them. Why did we have to be—” His voice broke apart as tears formed in his eyes.

“In different parts of the city?”

He nodded, closing his eyes tight against the tears. “In movies the family always gets reunited.” His voice broke again.

“If this were a movie, we’d stand a chance of getting outta here.”

“What? Why do you say that, Sam?” His brow furrowed.

I sighed, running a fingertip across the cat food can. “The evidence. Seems to fit.”

David opened his mouth as if to form a rebuttal, but there wasn’t one.

“I’ll tell you one thing though,” I said. “You’re a hero to Julie. No one can take that away from you.”

His mouth snapped shut and tears formed in his eyes again. “I need to go to her.”

“Go. I’m sure she won’t mind being woken up by her daddy.” Just then, Kisana entered the gym, her eyes searching the room for me.

David’s legs shook as he stood up. He grasped my shoulder and smiled down at me. A single tear fell from his face. “Thank you. You’re absolutely right.”

I returned the smile and stood up to meet Kisana.

She approached me, holding out her hand. She cast me a shy, uneven smile. “Come with me?” she asked.

My smile slid into a full-fledged grin, and I joined hands with her. I grabbed what was left of the food. “Everything okay?”

She nodded. “I have something to show you.”

We made our way into the outdoor corridor and were greeted by beams of sunlight poking through the thick patches of clouds that remained in the sky. The buildings around us looked forlorn, most of them lying in ruins. But they seemed to lean comfortably toward the sun, grateful for the support of something other than the storm.

I grinned up at the sunlight. “Finally, the rain stopped.”

“Yeah, I was beginning to think it’d never end.”

We stopped at the entrance to my gate. The gate had somewhat expanded itself over the past few days. I had used the metal scraps to build a border of sorts on top of the cardboard. The trim gave it a rustic appearance, reminding me of an old desert junkyard.

“How are you and your parents?” I asked.

“Better. I think. I tried to explain everything best I could.”

“Tried?”

“Well, this is new to me. I did okay. I think.”

“Good. It’s not easy, and something to be proud of.”

I wrapped my free arm around her neck and kissed her deeply. She tasted like minty toothpaste. I fumbled around on one foot and prodded open the gate with the other. Something clattered behind me, and I laughed into our kiss. “Whoops, there goes one of my new yard decorations.”

“Sam, you’re a goof,” Kisana said, grinning.

“Come inside? I can’t promise I won’t knock stuff over there too, but at least the sandwiches might be safer.”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

We made our way into my tent, arms wrapped around each other still. I set aside the pile of food and zipped open the canvas sunroof on my tent. The sunlight streamed down on our smiles through a mesh screen as I took Kisana in my arms again.

I rubbed the back of her neck and inhaled her scent. It reminded me somehow of a cranberry-tinted sunrise and the morning coals of a campfire. I blinked as the image entered my brain but decided I liked it. Kisana’s eyes met mine in the waves of sunlight, and we kissed again.

Wrapping my arms around her waist, I laid her down on my sleeping bag. I lowered my body and felt hers rise to meet mine. Her soft breasts teased mine. I grinned down at her.

“Mind if I…?” I said, brushing the edge of her T-shirt, where an inch of her smooth belly peeked through. The skin shuddered beneath my touch.

“Mind? I’ll help you along.” Her voice was low, sultry.

Our eyes met again as she sat up just enough to pull her shirt over her head. I discarded mine then hurried to kiss the bronze flesh in between her breasts. Her skin tasted as good as it smelled—clean, exotic, with a tint of sweet—a sweetness I hadn’t tasted for far too long.

My body pressed itself to hers, and I reached behind her back to unhook her bra. I fumbled for a moment or two, laughing as I finally found the right hook. Her bra fell from her chest. Arousal stirred inside me as her breasts bounced and shimmered in the sun. I licked a dark nipple teasingly.

“How am I supposed to…” she breathed, shivering at my touch. She was staring at my chest, which was still covered by my usual sports bra.

“Oh, um. Whoops.” I quickly pulled the bra over my head and flung it into a random corner of the tent. I tossed her a grin and went back to her nipple, cupping both breasts in my hands as I filled my mouth with her rich flavor.

Kisana’s breaths became rushed as our bodies met the sleeping bag once more. I straddled her legs between mine as my nipples brushed her stomach. The contact sent tremors of desire through my entire body.

I turned my head upward to meet her gaze again, making sure she wanted me to continue. Her eyes were dark, as though intoxicated. I saw nothing that even resembled fear.

Giving her other nipple a teasing lick, I went to work taking her jeans and panties off. We both rose to our feet and stood for a moment, clinging to each other for support. The sight of her bright pink panties caused me to grin like an idiot.

I took my pants and underwear off, almost falling over as I tripped over a stack of books.

“Hey, no teasing me about my clothes when you can’t even get out of yours,” she said, laughing.

I hopped back into her arms, still carrying my clumsy momentum with me. We ended up collapsing back on the sleeping bag in a fit of laughter, landing on our knees. My limbs tingled for more contact with Kisana’s velvety skin. “I really make an awful butch.”

She ran a hand through my hair and drew my head to hers, lowering her back to the sleeping bag again. I followed obediently, using the bedding to support myself until I was able to prop myself up on my elbows and gaze into her eyes. “You make an awfully cute Sam,” she said.

I grinned again and kissed her, pressing my chest to hers. As her nipples hardened under mine, I took my free hand and felt for the soft patch of hair beneath her belly. I massaged the flesh underneath with two fingers and heard her gasp beneath my mouth.

She tightened her hand in my hair, which pulled our bodies even closer.

As our lips parted, she uttered another low moan. Her legs began to writhe. A trail of lazy sunlight made its way down her chest, and I followed it with my lips, kissing her slim neck and the soft valley between her breasts. I stopped along the way to take her nipples in my mouth again and then continued my journey downward.

The muscles in her stomach quivered as I brushed her navel with my tongue. She grasped my free hand in hers as I scooted down, trailing the outline of her hair with a series of kisses.

Kisana moaned again, wrapping her legs around me, and thrust her pelvis forward to meet my lips. I met the request, running my tongue against the entrance of her pussy, then dived deeper, relishing her taste.

I circled her clitoris with my tongue as I delighted in every fold and ripple it discovered. A rhythm flowed through me like the warm rays of sunshine above us. It guided me, causing heat to rise between us like a curtain of sensuous steam. Her body buckled as I slowly increased the tempo, my tongue flickering at every beat.

She opened her eyes mid-buck and met mine over the rim of her mound. Her gaze was desperate, imploring me to delve deeper. I stepped the tempo up a notch, and her moans quickened into shuddering gasps. The heat between us rose with the tempo.

Her eyes left mine as she bucked back one final time, and her voice sang out into our cross-hatched sunbeam as an orgasm wracked her entire body. The moist flesh beneath my lips trembled. My own pelvis tingled as her screams of pleasure sounded.

I grinned up at her as she recovered.

“Oh…God,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Not done yet, baby.”

I climbed on top of her sweat-slick body and took a breast in my mouth again. Goddamn, does Kisana have beautiful breasts. The nipple hardened obediently. I entered her with my fingers this time as I nipped gently at the tasty morsel in my mouth.

She dug her hand into my hair again and groaned a long, luscious growl. “Oh, God, Sam. Guys never know the trick about doing this more than once.”

I grinned at her above a dark nipple as I fell into a rhythm that sent her screams up through the sunroof twice more.

Chapter 21

I awoke the next morning to Kisana staring into my eyes, a giant grin plastered on her face. My head was nestled in between her bare breasts. I lifted it up just enough to lazily kiss a nipple.

“Mind if I stay here a while?” I asked. “I kinda don’t wanna move. Ever.”

“Morning, handsome.” She brushed aside a loose strand of my morning-crazed hair.

“Handsome, eh? I like the sound of that.” I tossed her a bashful grin.

“No one call you that before?”

I shook my head. My grin widened when her breasts wobbled slightly at the motion. “I could get used to being called that.”

“Well, good. You were amazing yesterday, by the way. And last night…” Her face flushed.

“You were pretty good yourself.”

She tossed her head back and laughed. “Yeah, right. I barely knew where to uh, go, let alone what to do.” The flush hue on her face deepened.

“Really. You did great. And might I admit to you, I haven’t been with many women.”

“Seriously?” Kisana cocked her head in my direction, raising an eyebrow. “I had you pegged for a total lady-killer.”

I laughed. “There’ve only been two others besides you. The most recent was the result of my first disastrous venture into a lesbian bar. The other was back in high school.” I grimaced at the reminder of my first time with Jamie. “Remember when I said I had a bad habit of falling in love with straight girls? I wasn’t exaggerating.”

She ran her hands through my hair. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah…twice.” I grimaced again. “Once in college, with my boss. That went over well.”

“I imagine so,” she laughed. “And the second?”

“A girl I met at a book club I belonged to a couple years ago. I thought for sure she was gay. I asked her out, and she ran for the hills. Turns out my gaydar sucks ass.”

“It didn’t go off with me at all either, did it?”

I shook my head, smiling. “No ma’am. I thought for sure you were straight. Naomi kept telling me to ask you, but I kept saying, ‘Nah, she’s straight!’”

Kisana grinned down at me. “When I was a little kid I was always keeping secrets. I guess I’m pretty good at it still.”

I returned the grin and raised my head to kiss her lips. As our lips met, soft beams of morning sunlight poked their way through a large cloud overhead.

As our lips parted, a commotion sounded from nearby. Muffled voices. “What’s that?” I asked.

Kisana shrugged, sitting up.

I gave her nipple one last lick and stood up, sticking my head outside the tent.

“Why the hell did you wait until now to speak to us?” a voice yelled. David. I swallowed hard, and turned to face Kisana.

“The aliens finally got back with him?” she asked.

“Sounds like it.” I started fully unzipping the tent.

“Um, Sam.”

I glanced back at her.

“Clothes might be good.” She smiled. “Not that I’m complaining. I kinda like you naked.”

I felt my face redden. “Let’s get dressed and join everyone.”

Moments later, Kisana and I stood behind the ring of people gathered around the intercom box. David stood at the center of the ring, his features stony.

“We thought it best to simply ob-serve,” the voice from the box answered.

David’s eyes darkened. A crimson hue began to creep over his cheeks and forehead. Despair in its primal form. “Excuse me?” he said. “You wanted to observe? I’m suffering. I’m in pain. Sam’s confused as hell, and you wish to observe? Are we a fucking TV channel?” His voice cracked. “You know what? Forget it. Just tell me where my family is.”

The voice seemed to hesitate. “I will not answer about these dreams you speak of. But your family has not sur-vived. You are correct on this matter.”

David slammed a fist into the wall. The sound resonated through the gym. We held our breaths in unison, as if anticipating a tidal wave.

A second slam echoed out. Naomi stepped forward, glaring up at the intercom. “What the—? When did this happen?”

“Recently.”

“So why make this man wait, in anguish? You’re not human, but surely you can see the sense in not holding back news like this. At least tell us the details.”

Minutes ticked by, and the box didn’t offer a response in any form. David pounded the wall again, providing one.

I ran toward him, and Julie’s eyes met mine from Marge’s desperate grasp that held the girl back. I squeezed David’s sweat-covered shoulders. He flinched at my touch.

Naomi held a shaking hand to her forehead, continuing. “So, you’re killing people out there, then. We have no choice but to assume this. You lied to us. When’s our time coming?”

Marge gasped. The group began to murmur.

“If it’s the truth, no sense in beating around it,” Naomi said. She stared up at the intercom box, daring the voice to deliver an answer.

The murmurs slid into resounding silence. David shouldered away from my hands and slammed the wall again, throwing his entire weight into the aged stucco. When he moved his hand away from the wall, it shook. He stared at it.

“I cannot answer that,” the voice said. “You are best to re-main calm.” A click sounded, the voice leaving us to our own trembling images of San Francisco’s destruction.

David’s shaking palm clenched into a fist again. In one swift motion, he stormed to the pantry. He shoved everything off the benches that served as our tables and counters and flipped over the utensil box. Spoons, forks, measuring cups, and knives rattled across the gym floor. I watched him, dumbfounded.

Naomi heaved a sigh, attempting to gather herself. “What the hell are you doing? I hope you plan on cleaning that up.”

He refused to look at us. Diving to his knees, he tossed handfuls of cutlery across the room, rummaging through the mess that remained.

I stared at a pile of spoons, searching for words I could possibly come up with to comfort him. The flames inside the dream from two nights ago reached into my brain again, reminding me that I was the reason David had tossed away any shred of hope burrowed inside his chest.

A spatula skidded past my gaze. David sprinted toward it, adding it to a pile of utensils he was collecting.

“What are you doing?” Naomi insisted. “Do I need to ask for lockboxes for the cutlery?”

“Daddy!” Julie shrieked. “You’re scaring us!”

I glanced at the group of exhausted faces. Julie was right. Every face was drawn tight, confused. Terrified.

David continued his mission. Satisfied with his collection of kitchen accessories, he stomped past us, averting our worried eyes. His strides fierce, he entered the outdoor corridor, grabbing Naomi’s garden trowel along the way.

Naomi and I shared a desperate glance as Marge attempted to quiet Julie, who had broken down into tears. We followed David.

Kisana placed her hand in mine as we made our way outside. I gave it a squeeze, but deep inside of me, the hand around hers seemed weak, trembling. We stepped out into the shinning sunlight. I took a deep breath. A part of me already knew what was going through David’s mind.

He was on his hands and knees in front of our decrepit tree, flinging small handfuls of dirt behind him. We’d had little success in our attempt to bring the tree back to life. The soil wasn’t as caked as it once was, and the first few trowelfuls came easy.

Naomi ran up to him, shouting. “David, dammit. What the hell are you doing? Do you think you’ll actually be able to dig to the other side?”

He growled at her in response as another chunk of dirt made its way to our feet.

She walked around him and knelt in front of his face, where he was forced to hear her. He bent his head stubbornly toward the base of the tree. “No, God dammit! You’re not blowing up on us. Listen to me! Your girl needs you. Stop this nonsense. No good will come of it.”

David stopped shoveling for a moment, the trowel frozen in midair. “Take care of her, please,” he growled, still refusing to face her. “She can’t see me like this.”

“Well, then stop.”

“I can’t. Please. Just go.”

Julie’s cries echoed from inside the gym. Naomi fitfully looked over to the entrance. “God dammit.” She got back to her feet and tossed him another frantic glance. Her face was bright with the sheen of sweat. “I wish I never brought that goddamn trowel here.”

She stormed back inside to help Marge with Julie. I gave Kisana’s hand another squeeze, signaling to her that I needed to speak with David alone. She nodded and made her way to my makeshift fence, grabbing Simon along the way, who had surfaced from all the ruckus.

I made my way toward David, still unsure of what to say to him. I sat down in the dirt quietly, waiting for him to speak. He continued slamming the trowel into the ground.

The sun shone down on the sparkles of mica and quartz within the tiny dirt patch. I rolled a granular pebble between two fingers. Julie’s cries quieted, and the group behind David began to disperse.

I started building a little pile of dirt beneath my fingertips. It looked kind of like a destroyed sand castle, defeated by the tide’s onslaught then left out to bake in the sun. The tiny specks of dust and rock gave me something to focus on, something to feel against my skin. The coarse grains bit into the lines running across my fingers.

“I’m going to need that space, you know,” David said finally. “The tree’s gonna have to go too. We’re gonna need a large space to get everyone out of here.” He glanced at me for one brief second, his eyes fierce, edged with redness.

“Want some help?” I asked, grabbing a hold of the nearby spatula.

“No. I need something. Anything. Get my mind off…” He stopped stabbing the ground and hung his head above the dirt. Violent sobs escaped from beneath his hair.

“I’m sorry,” I said, “I wish I’d never told you about that stupid dream.”

“Don’t be. We know the truth now.” He sniveled loudly and then cleared his throat. He went back to his task. His head bowed down in concentration as he scooped, stabbed, and shoveled. “Don’t we have any type of larger tools?”

“I, uh…Let me look.” I stood up and looked around the corridor. Everyone had left except for Matt. He sat against the far wall, pretending to be absorbed in a bowl of ramen noodles.

A rusted glow caught my eye. It was a metal bit on my fence, what most likely used to be a rusted top edge of a shovel. I grabbed it, peering for any glimpse of Kisana. She was probably inside the tent, listening.

I tossed David the shovel edge and went back to my dirt castle. He got to his feet and hauled out shovelfuls of dirt from his hole, which was now larger than the base of the tree.

A cloud of dust floated through the ventilated air, directly toward me. I breathed in the grainy texture, felt it against my forearms. It was like the first, subtle breeze preceding a windstorm. A memory grabbed me by the shoulders.

Long Santa Ana gusts trailed through the cemetery, stirring the short hairs on the back of my neck. A pile of darkened soil loomed next to my mom’s burial plot. The breeze caught a wisp of soil and spun it in the air, spraying it across the grass. Ants scurried around the edges of the perfectly square hole in the ground. I watched all this instead of the faces around me.

The sounds of a mariachi band trailed through the air alongside the dust wisps. Some huge ass Mexican funeral two blocks over. I laughed at the idea of a mariachi band serenading us during my mother’s funeral. It was something to listen to other than the silence. Something to focus on besides the voices of family members attempting to remember bible verses.

The struggling psalms, the whiney trumpets, the dust-covered breeze, the trail of ants, and the remains of my mother in a clay jar I discovered in her pantry.

It all seemed so ridiculous. Like being coated in an inch of stucco dust and knowing I was losing a battle against a wall. Like David flailing dirt behind his head with a century-old shovel. Like knowing I may very well die without feeling a real breeze tickle the back of my neck again.

David’s groans caused me to open my eyelids. He’d dug all the way down to the roots surrounding the tree, and was straining to pull the slender tree up from the center of its dirt patch. A layer of sweat-stained dust covered him from head to toe. His mustache looked like it was covered in cobwebs.

I stood up to give him a hand. This wouldn’t be an easy task without a chainsaw or pickax. The tree wasn’t humungous, but its roots had to run deep to have survived this long. The sound of Julie shrieking again caused David to stop straining against the tree. He spun around.

Marge shouted a moment later, followed by three more people. A figure came bursting through the gym’s door. Our alien. It wore the same holographic disguise and had the same jerky movements. Its head was cocked to one side unnaturally, black eyes shining directly at David.

Everyone else followed at a safe distance. Donna, Marge, and Charles clutched each other as if expecting a snowstorm. Naomi held Julie. The little girl’s blotchy, tear-streaked face matched her father’s, except cleaner. Naomi looked as though she’d been crying as well.

A thick wad that tasted and felt like dirt passed down my throat. “Now you speak to us in person?” I said, my voice hoarse. “You refuse all our questions for days, and now you show up?”

The alien ignored me and thrust its hand forward in the direction of David’s beat-up shovel. If it had been human, the gesture would have snapped the elbow into two. “Where did that come from? You did not have that on a list.”

“We found it,” Matt said, closing the gap between the throng of people and the alien. He still clutched his bowl of soggy noodles.

David grabbed the dirty bit of rusted metal, wrapping his arms around it protectively. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but no words came out.

“There’s a hole in the gym,” Naomi said. “We find bits of junk floating in. From outside, I guess. The ruins. It’s where you entered from.” Her voice sounded completely void of energy.

“You cannot have that,” the alien said, its arm still pointed forward. “Return it. Cease your activ-it-y.”

Matt inched forward another step. “Why the hell do we need your permission to own a goddamn rusted piece of trash?”

The alien’s eyes remained focused on David. “Digging will get you nowhere. You cannot have tools for digging.”

David met its beady eyes with his own darkened gaze. His body fell into a defensive pose, knees bent, ready to strike. “Screw you.” A sort of primal desperation took control of his limbs, actions, and words.

The alien shuffled forward. “Cease your actions.”

A muscle in David’s forearm twitched. His gazed flipped to mine suddenly, as if questioning the frantic thoughts that had to be speeding through his grief-stricken mind. Beads of sweat peppered his forehead.

“Come on, David,” I said, “The plan probably won’t work anyway. Their technology is too advanced compared to ours.”

His gaze snapped back to the tree behind his shoulder for an instant. He spun around, thrusting the shovel edge deep into the dirt again. He emitted a low grunt that reminded me of a caged beast.

“I am warn-ing you,” the alien said, taking another step toward us. Its holographic arm glowed with a sudden silver sheen. A metallic-looking liquid began coating every surface of the false appendage. The silver liquid shone in the bright sunlight, glinting like a stack of newly-minted nickels. I stared at it, marveling at how it reflected the light. The liquid formed a tip, roughly the size of an index finger. It pointed at David.

Matt lunged forward, knocking David into the tree. Both men toppled onto the dirt. “Dammit, stop it!” Matt yelled. His bowl of noodles went flying. “We need to fucking stick together!” Several people joined Matt in shouting.

Another curtain of dust rose up through the sunlit dome as David shoved Matt underneath him, flipping the younger man over. “Get out of here!” David shouted. “All of you! I need to finish this.” He got back to his feet, his breaths ragged, and shoved Matt’s scrawny frame away from the dirt pile. “They’re lying to us! Holding the city captive, killing us off while we sit and hope for the skies to clear. If we can get out of this shit hole, we can reach the others. Save them!” David grabbed the shovel edge again and turned back to his hole, Matt’s crumbled form forgotten.

“Fuck you,” Matt groaned, attempting to recover from the blow. “They’ll kill us all before we even get a chance.”

“I will not hesi-tate to use this as a weapon,” the alien announced. “Calm down im-mediately, all of you. Put down the instrum-ent. If you do not, I will strike you down as well as another companion.” Its beady eyes remained fixed on David, unblinking. I knew the being wouldn’t hesitate.

I glanced back to the group behind us. Most everyone circled Matt, who was still trying to climb to his feet. Kisana clutched Simon. Both pairs of eyes were large and terrified. I wasn’t sure who was more afraid between the two of them. Naomi’s frame was shadowed inside the gym, where she was attempting to keep Julie away from the whole mess. The outline of her shoulders looked strong and reassuring, but I knew from her previous tears that she was as frightened as the rest of us.

Another grimy lump traveled down my throat, and my hands balled themselves into fists to stop from shaking. Blood roared in my ears. The memory of Naomi’s strength during these past months gave me a couple of seconds of courage. I let them flow over me, like waves straight from the sun.

“We can’t die here today,” I said. “We gotta live.” I threw myself forward to grab the shovel from David’s hands.

He saw me coming. “Dammit, Sam,” he growled, his voice wavering uncontrollably. “Don’t interfere.”

The rough metal bit into my fingers as I held on to the shovel with all my strength. Pain shot up my hand as a sharp edge dug into my skin. I ignored it.

David pulled back on the shovel, his eyes meeting mine. A stormy look of fear, desperation, and sadness passed between us. I shook my head, furrowing my brow in concentration. Our feet slid forward as we battled over the rusty relic. Dirt crunched against the pavement, straining against our weight. Wisps of dust flew up to meet us.

The alien stepped forward one more time, its liquid metal appendage morphed into completion. A blue light pulsated from the corner of my vision. David and I snapped our heads toward it. A weapon, a gun of some sort, pointed directly at us. It looked like a pistol, tipped with a blue point that pulsated outward. The weapon’s sight.

My mouth fell open. David took advantage of the moment and yanked the shovel away from my hands. He swept it low to the ground, into my thigh. Its pointed edge sliced into the muscle. I toppled over. He shoved me in the direction of the group. A shout escaped my mouth, and at that exact moment, the alien’s weapon fired. A blinding beam exploded into David’s chest, where he still leaned forward, pushing me away. The sunlight flickered above me as he collapsed into the dirt cloud.

The alien’s weapon disappeared with another flicker of sunlight, and the creature made a dash for his point of entrance. Matt lunged again, this time toward the alien. It should have been a direct hit. Matt’s body whooshed through open air, landing against the wall with a sickening thud. The alien’s hologram had disappeared.

Concrete grated against my skin. Screams echoed above me, twisting and churning with the distant sound of Julie’s howls. I didn’t know how much she had seen. It somehow didn’t matter.

I tried to crawl to David’s body. My leg throbbed. Kisana appeared above me, her shadow flickering against the sun. “Stay put,” she said. “You’re losing a lot of blood.”

“Is David…?” I murmured, squinting up at her.

“He’s gone.” She knelt low to the ground. The sun receded back over her head, and her mouth pulled tight into a straight line. Her eyes glittered. “Let me find something to stop the bleeding. Stay put!”

She hurried off, leaving me with the sun that seemed too bright. I had the urge to shield my eyes against it. My arms wouldn’t obey. My vision blurred, and bright beams of sunlight unfolded into angular shapes that reminded me of a kaleidoscope. The kaleidoscope rotated with each of Julie’s howls, pulsating with all of the sky’s colors. I wanted to curl tight into a ball and howl right along with her.

Chapter 22

“She’s gone. There’s nothing more we can do.”

The voice razed the insides of my brain, reminding me.

“She’s been gone for at least an hour. I’m sorry.”

Our dining room had been lit by the warm afternoon sun. The giant bay window behind my mom’s crumbled body didn’t seem to flinch from the howls taking place inside the illuminated hallway. It was as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. Outside, the birds chirped as they hopped between our street’s power lines. The bees hummed in front of the front door, where a giant hydrangea shrub guarded the porch.

The paramedics slipped out the door, leaving behind two uniformed cops, a confused neighbor, and my collapsed, sobbing form. The cops paced in front of the doorway, discussing whether they needed to call the coroner. The neighbor gossiped on his cell phone.

I stared at the wall in front of me through moist eyelids as I hunched down on the ancient, evergreen carpet. The wall was stained with years of cigarette smoke and chipping paint. I ran my fingers across the chipped edges as the howls escaped my mouth. The sounds even scared myself. I’d never had a reason to howl in my entire life until that moment, when I’d walked into my mom’s living room to find her dead of a heart attack. She’d only been fifty-four.

I had wanted my howls to reach into the past and yank my mom back into the present. I wanted them to let me go back in time and arrive an hour earlier. I wanted them to let me have one more conversation with her, share one more embrace. I had wanted them to do something, anything, to stop the pangs of agony coursing through me.

I knew Julie wanted her howls to do the same.

When I awoke later that night, the sounds of Julie’s familiar howls seemed to echo against my eardrums. I felt lost inside a cavern. I groaned, my head pounding with the same resonating sensation. Maybe I am in a cave. Maybe the aliens brought us aboard their ship.

“Welcome to the world of the living, handsome,” a voice whispered, close to my face. A soft breath caressed my cheek. I tried to open my eyes but found them caked shut with half-dried tears. A warm cloth wiped them clean. Kisana’s gorgeous face loomed above mine when I was triumphant.

“How long have I been out?” I croaked. My tongue felt swollen inside my mouth. The taste of dirt lingered, making me want to gag.

Kisana smiled then squeezed my hand. “All afternoon. Most of the night. It’s just after three a.m.”

The soft glow of our lanterns against the walls of the tent reassured me that we were still being held captive. That we were still alive. I met her gentle gaze. “How’s everyone holding up?”

“Not so good.” She sighed. “After David…passed…all hell broke loose. Matt went crazy. The alien disappeared. Cut off all contact with us. Matt spent all night screaming up at the box, with no response. Julie finally fell into an exhausted sleep a couple of hours ago, after spending all day crying. We had to place his body in a cardboard box.”

A thick swallow passed down my throat. I tried to say something, but croaked again instead. Kisana handed me a glass of water.

“I like how you don’t even ask about your leg,” she said, tossing me one of her cute, crooked smile.

I washed away some of the grime from my mouth, then set down the glass. “Thanks for reminding me.” I tried to move my leg. Searing pain shot up my thigh and into my torso.

“We did our best,” she said. “It needed stitches, so Donna tried her best to sew you up. I wrapped it up pretty good.”

I raised an eyebrow. “And I slept through all this?”

“With a little help. We uh, had some morphine left over from your father. Kinda guessed at an extra-high dosage.”

“Wow,” I said. “I’m not sure whether to feel impressed or scared of what may happen the next time I fall asleep.”

Kisana laughed nervously. “You had us worried. My dad and I got into another argument. He seems to think you’re a bad influence on me.”

“Oh, hold on. Let me get my motorcycle gang. And my keg of beer. Damn, probably can’t ride a motorcycle with this leg. Gonna have to make do with a beer gang.”

She whacked my arm, giggling. “Shut up.”

“Did you put him in his place?”

She stared down at the sleeping bag suddenly. “I tried. It’s hard for me to speak against him. I’m not sure he realizes how close we are.”

“I thought you told them?”

“I kind of did. My words may have gotten scrambled at some point. It’s just so hard. They’re old-fashioned.” She played with a loose thread on my sleeping bag.

The fact that Kisana appeared to be dodging the issue with her parents bothered me, but I couldn’t really say much. I’d been just as bad with my father. “I know,” I said. “What happened to parents being progressive?”

“Everyone’s but ours, apparently.”

“My mom understood.” Within my thumping headache, the image of Sara’s smiling face replaced the one of her slumped body. The same bay window framed that warm smile. “You two would’ve gotten along fantastically. She loved everyone. And well, you can cook, so she would have loved you even more. She could have actually taught you things.”

“Didn’t have much luck with you, eh?”

“Not really. I did what I could. I took over the cooking duties when she went blind, but I was pretty awful. Spaghetti noodles flew all over the kitchen on more than one occasion.” I swept my arms out wide. “Made a whole gallon of milk explode once, too.”

“You seem so…proud,” she laughed.

“Hell, yeah. Why make a mess of the kitchen when you can make an absolute disaster of it?” My mom’s kitchen had always been well-lit. Two tiny, white-curtained windows and a back door that was always open highlighted every feature of the small room. The seventies-style sea-green cupboards. The ceramic bowl she made that held oranges and bananas.

The smile must have plummeted from my face, because Kisana cupped her hand under my chin.

“I used to stand in front of the stove, trying to figure out how to measure crap,” I said. “She’d be sitting in her chair at the dining room table, in front of the bay window. She would try telling me what to do, like I somehow understood what a ‘pinch of that, and a blob of this’ meant.” I met Kisana’s gaze slowly. “Didn’t matter how many times I cooked something. I still never knew how to do it the next time around.”

“You dreamt about her tonight, didn’t you?”

“How’d you know?”

“You cried out for her in your sleep. I wanted so badly to wake you, hold you close, but you were pretty out of it.”

“Julie.” A warm tear slid down my face. “She reminded me of when my mom died. All my prophetic dreams. Then I have a stupid one about my past. Go figure.” I turned away from Kisana, searching for Simon. He was curled up next to my gigantically-bandaged leg, sound asleep.

“It was about her dying, right? I thought you said you couldn’t remember how she died?”

“I did. I just didn’t want to remember the details. Funny how dreams tell you all this crap you didn’t even want to know, or remember.” The memory of David howling into the dome-rimmed sky sent a shudder through my spine. “If it weren’t for that goddamn dream about the boat cabin, David would still be alive. I didn’t have to tell him. Why didn’t it occur to me earlier that it might’ve been about his family? Why was I so stupid?”

Kisana cupped my chin again, forcing me to face her. “Sam. Listen to me. It’s not your fault. Neither was your mother’s death.”

“I…” I tried to speak, but something inside me crashed and fell to the floor, like a dusty hurricane lamp shattering during an earthquake. Have I been blaming myself all these years?

“I know you’re thinking both things. I also know that David would have wanted to know.”

“No, he wouldn’t have.” I rolled away from her, causing my leg to spasm in pain. I stared at my tent with its flickering light-patterned wall. The shadows attempting to make their way through the thin canvas seemed darker than usual. Our compact prison was quickly losing any trace of light it once had.

“Leave me,” I said. “I think I need to…sleep.” I kept my face stubbornly turned away from Kisana, and closed my eyes tight.

“Sam? What did I say? I’m not sure you should be alone right now.”

“Please.”

Another tear trickled down my cheek. When I finally opened my clenched eyes, I was alone with a snoring cat, a tent full of shadows, and a racing headache that I knew would do anything to keep sleep at bay.

Hours later, when the shadows began to creep away to hide from the sun, the sound of flapping fabric made me watch the entrance expectantly for Kisana’s return. Instead, Naomi stuck her head inside, her eyes puffy and hair a mess.

“You dead in here?” she asked.

I shook my head and patted the empty section of my sleeping bag.

She climbed in, handing me a bowl of dry cereal. “Eat,” she said. “We’re out of powdered milk, but at least it’s something. You look terrible. How you feeling?”

“About the same,” I croaked. “It’s been a hell of a day.”

“You can say that again. We’ve lost all contact with the alien. We’re on our own now. The little window it used for deliveries is now completely sealed shut by that molten goop.”

“What about food, water?”

Naomi shrugged. “Like I said, we’re on our own. We’ve set up a ration system. We might last a few weeks before water runs out.”

“Shit.”

“We’re also gonna have to use that dirt mess you guys made to bury our waste in.”

I munched on a few stale Cheerios.

“Everyone keeps asking me if the aliens are gonna kill us.”

“What do you tell them?”

She shook her head. “I don’t even know what to tell myself, let alone them. I tell them we’ll make do. Carry on. Get outta here. Feel the sun.”

We stared up at the roof of my tent, neither of us wanting to admit the fact that we weren’t sure we even believed it anymore.

“Why’d you kick Kisana out?” she asked. “You two need each other more now than ever. She came to me, crying.”

I shook my head. “I’m not sure what to believe about anything. I wouldn’t want to dream some crazy ass dream about her long-lost cousins dying.”

“All because David died? He’s the one who acted out, Sam. He didn’t have to. Poor Julie’s all alone now, and—”

“—I know. That’s the problem.”

She snapped her mouth shut. “Oh. Now I see.” Her eyes met the green canvas of my tent.

“Does she have any other family?”

Naomi looked directly at me. “Sam, it’s not your fault.”

“Does she?”

“Kinda. An aunt in New York. All she knows about her is that she’s a waitress or something. If the aunt isn’t capable of taking her, Donna or I may adopt her. She’s taken a liking to both of us.”

“Good.”

“Sam.” She reached forward and grabbed my hand.

I stared into my bowl of Cheerios. The little holes in them reminded me of the holes a termite would make in an old pile of wood. Cheerio holes wanted milk. Termite holes wanted to be full of wood again, to be whole. To find a home where someone varnishes and oils each surface, sets the piece proudly in the sun.

“It’s not your fault,” she said.

I shook my head again. “I feel bad about Kisana, but I need some time to myself. To let everything register. David and I were good friends, you know.”

“I know. I also know this is bad time for any of us to be alone.”

“I’ll be fine, Naomi. Please.”

“Well…” She heaved a sigh. “Fine. I’m going to give you this, then.”

A cool weight landed in the center of my palm. David’s watch. Silver, with a digital water-resistant display. It must have cost him a pretty penny. “Julie should have this,” I said softly.

“She’s too young for something like that. You and he shared a…bond. I think he’d want you to have it.”

A faint smile tugged at the edges of my face. “Yeah, it was a rather geeky bond. Thank you.”

She leaned over to give me a hug, and then wriggled out of my tent. “Get some sleep.” A rustle of fabric later, she was gone.

I shoved aside the Cheerios for later. Tempers were going to flare high with a ration in place. A good excuse to hide away from the others. I ruffled a hand through Simon’s fur.

As I peered through the tent’s sun roof, the edges of dawn started to creep into the sky. I took it as a sign to finally try and get some sleep.

I had almost succeeded when the brush of fabric and scraping of shoes on pavement awakened me. A groan escaped my lips. “Who’s there now?”

“Hello? Samantha?”

I suppressed the urge to groan again, and scooted up on my elbows. “Come in, Pablo, Marie. I can’t move my leg. Otherwise I’d meet you outside where you have more than ten inches of space to move around in.”

“We will stay out here,” Pablo said. “It will only take a minute.”

“Okay,” I said.

“We have discussed this at length and decided that you must stay away from our Kisana.”

The hand that was in Simon’s fur curled into a fist. “You do realize she’s twenty-six, right?” My mouth formed a few extra curses afterward. I was glad they couldn’t see my face.

“Of course. But it’s important to our family that she remains religious.”

“And she still can.”

“No, she cannot.”

Another silent “fuck” passed from my lips. “What happened to you guys kind of being okay about us?”

“Your actions yesterday proved us right. You are irrational, prone to violence, and helped put us all at risk.”

My mouth fell open. “Wha—? Excuse me? David’s actions caused Matt and I to try and stop him from being violent.”

“The being did not appear until you two physically attacked him.”

A part of me realized he was right. My mind flashed crimson. “It would have come after David eventually. It tracks all our moves, actions, and words. Still does.”

“We don’t know that, and we do not want violence in our daughter’s life.”

Another flash. “That’s her decision,” I said.

“Yes. And she seems quite indecisive about the whole matter, frankly. She’s obviously confused. You’ve already began to influence her.”

Marie sighed and uneasily shuffled outside the tent.

“I…” I stopped my words short. I couldn’t defend Kisana if she wasn’t able to commit herself to being honest. Maybe she was second-guessing her sexuality. My head swam.

“We don’t know that for sure, Pablo,” Marie said. Her voice sounded desperate. “We need to speak more to Kisana.”

“No. It’s clear to me,” Pablo said, his voice gaining volume. “She will find a nice man to marry when we are free, and she will forget all this nonsense.”

A final tendril of crimson flashed in front of my vision, despite my confusion. “When? Try if. All bets on release are off.” My headed pounded with every word. I focused on the orange and white strands of Simon’s fur in an attempt to clear my head. The cat had his head up now, eyes wide.

Long sobs rang out from behind Pablo’s stoic frame. Marie’s. “We will be free!” she shouted between tears. “We have to be!”

“Sure,” I said. “Tell the aliens that.”

“Enough!” Pablo screamed. “You are not to speak to Kisana again. Hear me?”

“Pablo!” a voice shouted. Naomi’s. Her sandals clomped against the pavement. “I told you to let Sam rest! The last thing she needs is more yelling.”

He knelt down then, peering into the narrow opening of my tent. His red-rimmed eyes met mine. His brow was covered in sweat. The lines of his face were set, unwavering. Waiting for an answer.

I wanted nothing more than to jump to my feet and slam a fist into his jaw. But I’d been defeated, both physically and within my heart.

“Get out,” I said. “You want so badly for God to bless your daughter with a passive, antique marriage? Get us the fuck out of here.”

Chapter 23

The next three weeks passed like one of those three-hour westerns my dad used to like to throw at me. The ones with terrible sound, grainy picture, and a plot that was as interesting as a pile of manure getting old in a barn. I kept wanting to fall asleep and wake up to THE END streaming across the television screen.

Except I wasn’t able to. Deep sleep remained foreign to me. I couldn’t sleep for more than an hour, and would awaken the moment my mind slid into a semi-comfortable REM state. Instead, my mind honed a stony encasement, refusing to risk dreaming about Naomi’s family, Marge’s friends, or worse yet, Naomi and Marge. The thought of dreaming about our own deaths, then awakening to watch them unfold terrified me.

Our alien spokesperson and the black box both kept silent. The remaining intact buildings around us exploded one by one, causing thick waves of dust to choke the hours of sunlight. The air was hot and moist even through the filtration system. The first heat wave of late spring.

We all ended up pitching our tents back inside the gym. Despite our best efforts to dig deeper into the packed soil around the tree that was now dead, there wasn’t enough earth to bury the scent of our waste and of David’s body. The stench matched our moods, and we tried to shut it away by closing the doors to the corridor. It didn’t quite work.

Tempers flew beyond the reach of our dome, and everyone did the best they could to avoid each other except when it came to ration-divvying time. Which was now, unfortunately.

“Line up, people!” Naomi shouted. “You know the drill.”

It was six o’clock in the evening, time for our nighttime ration. Our food and water supply had to be kept under strict watch. Naomi, Donna, Matt, and I took shifts at making sure no one snuck into the pantry and took more than their share. A strict schedule was the only way to ensure everyone knew we all got the same rations. David would have been proud of the way Naomi, Marge, and Donna set the whole thing up.

Everyone shuffled into a crooked line going down the center of the gym. The faces around me were dirty, stretched thin, and framed with deep worry lines. We didn’t speak to one another, but instead stared at each other through dark-rimmed eyes. We got our two crackers, spoonfuls of canned beans, tiny cups of water, and then shuffled back to our corners.

I’d chosen my stucco-hole corner as my new home. The pile of dusty powder and bits of wall innards somehow comforted me, reminding me of when we’d all held on to more than just a fleck of hope. My cardboard and metal fence remained outside, piled on top of the makeshift grave we made for David. He deserved more, but that was all we could offer him.

Donna’s shadow hovered over Marge’s from within her tent next to the pantry, where Donna was attempting to feed her. Marge fell sick a week ago. We had no idea what was wrong with her but guessed it had something to do with the heat and dehydration settling in. Many of us had given her our own shares of water and food over the past week, but it wasn’t enough.

Matt appeared in front of me, blocking my vision. “Boy, I’d give anything for a goddamn piece of Cluckers chicken about now,” he muttered.

I nodded. “It was awful shit, but I can’t help but agree.” I shoveled a spoonful of beans into my mouth.

Matt slumped down on the floor next to me, sighing.

“Where’s your food?” I asked.

He pointed his head toward Marge’s tent.

“You sure? You’re already skinny.”

He shrugged. “I’m young. My body can handle it. You’re still healing. Donna has kids to take care of. Everyone else is older. I need the least amount of energy between us.”

I blinked. “Is that…Wow, that’s pretty damn mature of you. I’m impressed. What happened to the Matt I knew?” I shifted my weight underneath me, cringing as pain shot through my leg. The wound was taking its time to heal, and I could tell the first stages of infection were beginning to settle in. I was able to hobble along with the help of my dad’s cane, but I needed antibiotics and clean bandages.

Matt shrugged. “After David died, things seemed…” His pale gaze met the floor.

“Different?”

“Yeah.”

“I know.”

He looked back at me as I set down my empty plate. “Do you remember that old lady who showed up at work the night we were taken?”

“The crazy Alzheimer’s lady?”

“Yeah. Why the hell didn’t we believe her?”

The memory surfaced fully now. The folds of skin around her mouth; the way she grabbed my arm. “She insisted the fog was coming,” I said, shaking my head. “We thought she was fucking nuts.”

“I don’t know how the hell she knew, but she did. Now we’re wading between walls of dust, watching the fog trample skyscrapers. She fucking knew.”

I peered at him, surprised at his use of metaphors. “What good would it have done to believe her?”

“We could have run like hell.”

A shiver trickled down my back. “And if we weren’t able to escape?”

“Then at least I wouldn’t have spent my last hour of freedom bathing in fried chicken.”

“Good point. Where would you have spent that hour, instead?”

He pondered the question for a few moments. “Making up with my girlfriend. Or skateboarding along the pier.”

“In the dark?”

“Hell yeah. The pier’s lit. The fog was just thick enough that night to provide a bit of resistance. Like parasailing through a windstorm.”

“I’ll take your word for it. Never been.”

“You didn’t get out much, did you?”

I resisted the urge to glare at him. “Kinda hard, with my dad.”

“Now you’ll be free to do whatever.”

Simon sauntered toward me, looking for food. We ran out of cat food four days ago. I shoved my plate in his direction, and he sniffed the bean juice hesitantly then decided it was a good idea to try and lap it up.

“Sorry,” Matt said, staring at the floor. “Didn’t mean to say it like that.”

“It’s the truth. I am free. If we ever get out of here.”

“So, how would you have spent the hour before your capture? If you knew ahead of time, and escape wasn’t an option?”

I thought about it while Simon flicked his tail back and forth over his mealtime dissatisfaction. “The same way I spent it probably.”

“Stuck at home with your dad?”

“Yeah. We watched a movie. I had new books to read, a fridge full of food, and a warm comforter.”

“That seems kinda simple. Don’t writers long to live in Paris or Athens or some shit? Climb mountains and row canoes cross-country?”

“I take that back,” I said, laughing. “I’d take that canoe and whack you across the head with it.”

He grinned at me. “Good. That’s the Sam I know.”

“In all seriousness, I’m not really sure. I could say I’d write feverishly for that hour in a brilliant attempt to crank out some awesome memoir, but I wouldn’t have even started writing again if it weren’t for David and Kisana.”

“Are you still writing?”

I nodded. “Not much else to do. Luckily I asked for a metric ton of paper.”

The grin dropped from Matt’s face. “Weird how shit works like that. Most crappy situation ever and something good comes out of it.”

“Along with a whole lot of crap.” Simon wandered off to see if someone else had anything better to eat. “That cat’s gonna disown me. Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“When you launched yourself at the alien after it…killed David, what happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Really? I mean, from where I was on the ground, it looked like you flew right at it.”

“I didn’t make contact. It did something, flashed a weird color, and then disappeared.”

“Almost like some kinda stealth shield, or teleportation device?”

“Hell if I know. I don’t read about that crap. I flew into a wall, and hurt for days. All I know.”

“Interesting.”

Matt grumbled. “You sound like David now.”

A smile tugged my lips. “Well, someone’s gotta take over.”

He rolled his eyes in my direction, and we were quiet for a moment. Everyone around us settled into their tents in an attempt to save energy. Naomi’s frame looked slumped and exhausted from across the room, where she sat rummaging through our boxes of plates, bowls, and kitchen utensils. Looking for hidden packages of crackers or noodles, no doubt, even though she’d already looked through everything multiple times.

Donna appeared from the entrance to Marge’s tent, shaking her head. Charles and Julie sat in the middle of the pantry with a board game between them, but neither child seemed to pay much attention to it. They looked just as listless and quiet as the adults. They knew David had left and was never returning. They had seen his lifeless body hit the dirt-covered concrete. There was no bouncing back from that. I fingered David’s watch from within my side pocket, letting the cool smoothness of the metal backing provide a sort of stability against the tips of my fingers.

“Can I ask a question now?” Matt asked.

“Sure,” I said, peeling my eyes away from the children.

“What happened between you and Kisana?”

“It’s…complicated.”

“Somehow I think I’ve got the time to hear it all.”

My voice was quiet. “Her parents don’t want us to be together.”

“So you two are going to die apart? That’s not complicated. That makes no goddamn sense.”

I pulled the watch out and held it tightly within my fist. “I know. But Kisana seems confused, and I don’t have the strength to fight anymore.”

“Seriously? This coming from the dyke that’d scream at me for two hours every time I called a customer ‘fag’ behind their back or said the weather outside was gay?”

I shrugged. “Doesn’t fucking matter. We had our moment of happiness. Maybe that’s all I need.”

“Uh. No. Someone who’s happy with a single moment doesn’t deserve it.”

“Well, thanks. That makes me feel better.” I glanced around, looking for something to heave at him.

“It’s true! Why call yourself a writer if you’re perfectly happy flipping chickens around? Why come out as gay if you’re just going to sit around and mope about parents being dumbasses toward their adult children?”

“They blame me for the fact that our supplies have stopped coming. They blame you and me for getting David killed.”

Matt’s mouth fell open. “What? I had no fucking idea. Of all retarded, goddamn selfish ways of looking at thi—”

“Shut up,” I said. “It isn’t worth the energy.”

“Of course it fucking is. I’m going to talk some goddamn sense into them.” He made a move to stand up, and I grabbed his wrist and pulled him back to the floor.

“No. It isn’t.”

His angry eyes met mine, challenging me. I released his arm, and he stood up again as I averted my gaze toward the pile of chalky dust in one corner. I wanted to hide within it. I didn’t want to see how our lives would end. I didn’t want to see us fighting over crumbs and struggling to have the energy to sit up and gasp for water.

“God dammit, Sam. Don’t let this shit get to you. At least find out how Kisana really feels.”

I refused to look up. “Do whatever the hell you want.”

“Fuck that. I won’t fight your battles unless you have my back.”

“I can’t. Not when I blame myself for getting David killed, too.”

“Then you’re on your own.”

His footsteps echoed across the floor. I sat there, staring numbly at the piles of stucco until the lantern that was next to me flickered then fizzed out as its batteries died. And then I stared into the darkness, wishing it would swallow up the feelings eating me alive.

Chapter 24

Despite my efforts to get eaten away by desperation, I awoke the next day to the sound of my tent unzipping. Not that I’d been asleep long. Maybe a half-hour. I’d had a short dream about my father. In it, he had just bought a new truck. We went up into the mountains, and whizzed over dusty trails and shallow streams. We’d laughed and listened to his goofy semi-classical music. Mantovani and Mancini.

In my dream, as the music played, he kept asking me why I chose the hard route. I kept opening my mouth to ask him why he was whizzing over mountains when there was a solid road nearby, but the words kept coming out soundless.

The sound of my zipper inserted itself into my dream as the truck’s new upholstery splitting. I awoke wanting to scream at my father to stop and find an auto repair place. I shook my head. At least I’d dreamed about someone who was already dead. The number of people I cared about who were dead was beginning to outweigh the number of those still living.

Only one person had the guts to open my tent without bugging me first. I sighed, un-burrowing my head from below my stack of blankets. A groan slipped from my lips as I struggled to sit up. The weight of an anvil seemed to crush down upon my leg. I poked the area around the bandage, wincing. Hints of red skin peeked out from underneath the gauze, straining against my swollen flesh. Definitely infected.

“Sam? I hear you in there. Can I come in?”

“I…I’m not sure I’m up for company,” I said. I didn’t know what time it was.

“Please. I have a gift for you. Well, two actually.”

“You don’t have to, Kisana. Really.”

“Too bad. I’m here already, with my arms full of junk.”

I took a deep breath and unzipped the rest of the tent flap. “Wow, you’re right.” From her kneeling position, she had a large sheet of poster board under one arm, and what looked like an ugly sculpture of rusted metal bits in the other. I raised an eyebrow at her. “Starting a craft fair?”

She shot me one of her shy, crooked smiles. My heart did a quick flip over itself. I forced my gaze down to the poster board in an attempt to calm it.

“You’ve kept me from seeing you,” Kisana said. “I had time to…well, think about you, mostly.” She laughed nervously, and then shoved her pile of metal toward me. “I miss you. I’m sorry about my parents. They…”

“It’s okay. You shouldn’t have to apologize for them.” I felt the familiar weight of David’s watch within my pocket and wrapped my palm around it.

“Someone needs to.” She tried to make eye contact with me, but I kept my face down. “What they’re doing isn’t right, but I need the faith my father’s prayers grant me. We’re all losing faith. I don’t want this to be the end, Sam.” Her voice was almost a whisper.

The end she spoke of could mean many things. I raised my eyes, wanting nothing more than to reach out and pull her body to mine. A gnawing ache inside my chest stopped me. It told me I was dangerous. Destined to lose everything and anyone who dared to poke it with a stick. All it took was a dream. I caught her dark gaze then, the corners of her eyes glittering with the threshold of tears.

“Your dad says you’re being indecisive,” I said. “I understand the role religion plays in your life, but I need you to be honest with yourself if you want us to stand together. I’m being honest with you. I’m not sure I trust myself around you with these dreams cascading through my mind. Take this time and be honest to yourself. Please.”

Her eyes shut, and she shoved the poster board inside the tent. “Take these, then. The metal…was my attempt at wind chimes.” She stood up, spun away from me, and left without looking back. I was grateful she didn’t try and meet my gaze again; otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to keep my arms from reaching out for her.

The flap of my tent swished to and fro from the force of her departure. I watched it, pretending a breeze was rustling around me instead of ominous stillness. It was then that I held up the pile of rusted metal. It clanged as it unfolded. Near the top, chunks of soda can aluminum pinged together. Below it, squares of rusted sheet metal, probably originating from David’s grave. At the very bottom, four empty cat food cans swayed. The lids and labels had been removed, and not a strand of cat food stench remained.

The whole thing was held together by wire and a plastic hoop meant for hanging. A tear trickled down my cheek as I stared at the clanging bits of metal. I rose to my feet and attached it to one of the fabric tent loops.

As the clanging quieted, the sound of distant shouts swept into my tent. I recognized Naomi’s voice instantly, along with Matt’s, Pablo’s, Donna’s, and Joel’s. So it’s started. The fighting over scraps of food and supplies.

I made my way to the tent’s entrance, pausing to take a peek at Kisana’s poster board. It was her painting of the outside corridor. My tent, in the center of a landscape of grey concrete, bordered by the colors of a sunset. The dome was nowhere in sight. Blazing bits of orange and violet collided with the green of my tent, creating a balmy hue that made me want to find a beach ball to toss.

We weren’t featured in the painting, just my tent, the gorgeous sun, and a marmalade cat grinning from the forefront. I remembered our conversation then, about how we’d look at the painting years later, old ladies sitting on a porch swing, laughing about the ridiculousness of being held captive within the walls of a school gymnasium. Right now, it didn’t seem so ridiculous.

Matt’s voice rang out above the others. “We decided to use a ration system for a fucking reason! We gotta follow it!” Another voice, Joel’s, shouted back. Something about Marge needing more water. Julie started bawling. Marie joined in. Naomi shouted to the both of them, which just caused them to bawl louder.

“Shut up!” Donna said. “We’re wasting energy shouting!”

The poster board plummeted from my fingers. I grabbed the cane and left my tent, hobbling toward the closed door to our domed corridor. I gritted my teeth against the pain in my leg. My head swam with lightheadedness, and I readied myself for the stench of outside.

It greeted me like a stack of overdue bills on a day assumed to be payday. I wanted to toss it away, and hold a gleaming scrap of paper in my hands—my check, the sky. I needed to see the sky, even when it was clouded with the remnants of dust and destruction. I needed to watch the fog curl above the dome, and catch glimmers of the moon between cloud patches.

The fog had been stolen from us, along with the moon, the sun, the concrete, the cloud patches, and our ability to survive. Everything. Only the stench remained. I breathed through my mouth as I shoved the door open, storming breathless into the darkened dome. My eyes targeted the sky. Nighttime. Clouds heavy with the promise of rain. The door thudded behind me, the shouts dulling into an angry murmur that reminded me of the hydrangea-crazed bees outside my mom’s porch.

The bees buzzed in my memory, threatening to show me the paramedics frantically letting the screen door crash behind them one more time. I stared into the clouds above my head, willing them to open up on me, break through the dome, shatter it into a zillion pieces, wipe out the stench, dissolve the aliens’ goop, the murmuring shouts from inside, and the guilt eating away at me.

I couldn’t hold off sleeping any longer. I needed to not be scared of my dreams. I needed my dreams. Needed my sky. And Kisana.

Another tear trembled on the edge of my eyelid, and when I lifted my hand to swipe it away, a shimmer of blue walked into my line of sight.

The doors slammed shut again as the alien stopped a good three feet away from me, the edges of its hologram pulsing dully in the light of dusk clouded over. Voices continued to buzz from inside the gym.

“No one noticed you come out here?” I asked.

“No. They did not not-ice you either, I see.”

My initial question seemed irrelevant. “We’re…dying. I’m sure you know that.”

“Yes. I know. The council members have vo-ted to leave this planet.”

“Leave? Leave us…in this state? Without freeing us?”

“That was the original ass-umption, yes.” Its head cocked to one side unnaturally. The gesture appeared to be one of curiosity.

A billion questions raced through my mind. “Is the air out there really poisonous?” I gave the clouds a nod and ran my fingers across the cool metal of David’s watch, pleading for it to somehow grant me strength.

“No. We came to survey many things about your spe-cies. The abili-ty to judge between truth and falsity was one of them.”

“We judge from the evidence in front of us,” I said. “We saw the streets empty and the buildings crumbled. We had no choice but to believe you. What other way is there?”

“Many. Our species judges most things cognit-ively, you see. We can read minor differences in temperature and the rate of organ pro-cesses. It is then a simple decision.”

“This isn’t your true form. How could we judge things like your breathing rate unless we see your true form? You used a box to speak to us.”

“Yes. For our species, visibility is not nec-essary. We simply sense life forms around us within a certain distance, once we are familiar with their gen-etic markings.”

“We…Yeah. Can’t do that. Am I correct in saying you came here to laugh at our stupidity, then?” A fire ignited inside my mind. I had an instinct to charge the alien, knock it down, pound its chest—whatever the hell it looked like—for what it’d done to David, for what it’d done to us. It would do no good, though. Information was my only possible weapon.

The holographic head cocked in the other direction. “No. We came to study your spec-ies. Our staff members were amused by many of the behavioral patterns, yes. When our research is announced upon returning, much of our popu-lace will also be amused. Amusement is not, how-ever, our goal.”

“What is your goal? Will you return in twenty years to destroy every human being, harvest them for food? Deplete the ozone layer for valuable resources?”

“No and no. Our goal is merely to learn everything we can about the universe around us. We are an advanced species. Our brains work mech-anically, and we study with an insatiable sense of curiosity. But we do not wish to be violent unless it is scientif-ically necessary.”

The clouds broke free then. Huge droplets of water crashed down onto the dome, splattering, trickling down the slopped sides. A water line squiggled downward, searching for the warm concrete. “You killed half the city for curiosity’s sake?”

“No. Less than half. We needed to see how your bodies and minds would function under dire circum-stances. We chose other cities as well. All major cities, as to create a sense of stasis among your planet’s citizens.”

“Stasis? You call causing an entire planet to hide in terror stasis?” My voice started to break apart, but I forced myself to keep speaking. “Starving them? Chucking bombs into their prisons?”

“Yes. It takes dire circumstances to bring out the core of a spe-cies.”

The water droplet trail disappeared as another fat splatter took its place. I kept my eyes glued to the dome and the water droplets instead of facing the creature at my side. “Desperation…”

“That is one word for the state of mind, yes.”

“Where are you from?” The words came out as low as a whisper.

“A planet ex-ceedingly far from yours. You do not, nor will have, the technology to reach our galax-y in the near future.”

“You knew what I was getting at, didn’t you? You understand humanity’s need to fight back, to not give in to desperation. You knew we’d think about attacking your world, as you attacked ours. Revenge.”

“Yes, I under-stand more about your species now. That is why I am here.”

My eyes met the alien’s hologram again. “And why is that?”

“As I said, we have decided to leave your planet. We have collected an acceptable a-mount of data. The other council members thought it would be cle-ver to free all of Earth’s inhabitants except for my station’s.”

“You mean us.”

The being’s beady eyes stared into mine. “Yes. I made a mistake. I came too close.”

“What? What do you mean?”

The alien cocked its head to the other direction again. This time the gesture was laced with hesitation. “How do I explain…? Our species, as I said, senses the inner workings of other beings. We are able to read conscious thoughts and sense bod-i-ly functions. We are not, how-ever, able to read any part of the unconscious mind unless we register our physical cells within ano-ther.”

“You…lost me.”

“Touch. Touch is the purest form of intimacy for us, and upon physical contact we are able to share the unconscious.”

“Dreams.”

“Yes.”

“When I collided into you that first time you showed us your hologram, you gained the ability to share information through my dreams.”

“Yes.”

I nodded slowly, my gaze averting back to the water-covered dome.

“I didn’t notice what had happened until much later,” it said. “I was hoping the hologram would block it. We are not able to control the content of these thought patterns, you see.”

“Thus the need for intimacy.”

“Yes. Our bonding mates and parents are the only ones we normally touch. Sometimes close companions. Thus the need for our mech-anical apparatu-ses to aid us.”

“Does this mean you saw my dreams as well?” The bee bushes popped into my head again. The sunny fruit bowl. The walls with flecking paint. Me and my dad romping in his truck.

“Yes. I saw how much grief has aff-ected your life.”

“Then why add more to it? Why kill David? You must have known we were close.”

The alien hesitated. “I was ordered to. I didn’t see your strength until that moment. I didn’t re-think our research until you took actions against your own friend that you knew may get you killed. In your moment of des-peration, I threatened to harm another human, and you acted out. You longed to pro-tect the entire station.”

I shuffled the weight of my leg underneath the cane. The pain worsened the longer I stood. I wasn’t sure how to respond.

“I am going a-gainst the council,” it said. “The other members of the council wished to observe the last minute effects of your dreams as you per-ish. I cannot do that to you.” The hologram shimmered with a brighter light than it emitted before, its hand pulsating with a murmur of blue. Within the blue pulsations, a few clicks echoed.

“Because I attacked him?” I asked. “Your goddamn power made him become desperate in the first place.” My voice croaked.

“I know. The things you blame yourself for are not your fault.”

The words exploded above me like the first rays of sunshine after a wintry dawn. I’d heard them before, but hearing them from this being who scared every bit of me, yet had shared my thoughts, my dreams—somehow encouraged them to finally sink in.

Chapter 25

The dome around us started to whirr. Edges that met the concrete began to emit a glow similar to the alien’s hologram. The light was reminiscent of daylight and shone with an edge of silver that was too bright to face directly. Crisscrosses of blue intertwined the silver field. The glow traveled up the slope of the dome, and behind it, the rain trickled through. Every trace of the dome was being materialized within the daylight-hued field.

I squinted against the light as it rose above my head. The cool, moist air billowed in, caressing my skin. Goosebumps rose on my forearms, and my skin delighted in the sensation. A strand of fog swept in front of my eyes, and I grabbed it with my free hand, smiling as it whispered against my knuckles and swirled into a smoky gauze. This is what I’d needed.

“I know,” the alien said. “Your species has odd attach-ments to minor environmental details. Strangely sent-imental. Emotionally complex.”

“Complex. Perfect word.” I raised my eyes to follow the glow again as it steadily swallowed up every inch of the dome. When it reached the top, the edges crept inward, forming a compact disc that reminded me of a Frisbee. The disc solidified, and the alien’s hologram glowed again.

“Come. Touch the rain you long for.”

I hobbled out into the storm that was just finding its wings. Huge droplets slid into my hair, against my dirty T-shirt, and quenched my thirsty skin. I did more than touch it—I tasted it. I opened my mouth wide, smiling as the drops filled my parched mouth. I’d never tasted anything so wonderful.

When my eyes opened again, the silver disc had swallowed up the entire dome, and was now sinking down to the concrete. It was centered above the dirt patch and our makeshift grave for David. After it touched the ground, it spread outward and thinned to cover the whole area we’d used for waste burial. When it reached the end of our dirt pile, it flattened to the pavement, the bright glow dulling until it hardened into a white layer.

“What did you do?” I asked.

“Smell the air.”

The awful stench was gone. The glowing material had encased any and all traces of it. All I could smell was the fog and rain around me. I grinned up into the storm as it continued splattering my forehead. “That stuff’s awesome.”

“Yes. It has ma-ny uses. Also, this—”

A blob of silver traveled up from the center of the pavement, where the dirt patch had once been. It landed in front of us, dulling into a hardened ball of white goop.

“Your friend’s ashes,” the alien said. “They are en-cased within. You may have a hard time breaking the seal, however, so I suggest you do not.”

“T-Thank you,” I stammered, picking up the orb. It was warm. I stared at it.

The hologram shimmered and expanded one arm to encompass a blue-lit object that resembled a penlight. It reminded me of one of the tools on the silver apparatus that controlled our supply hatch. The alien aimed it toward my leg, the blue tip pulsating. “Place your wound clo-ser,” it said. “I can assist you one more way.”

I inched toward the light as my heart beat heavy within my chest. My mind drifted back to the memory of this same appendage shooting David to his sudden, dusty death. I took a deep breath, and then set down David’s ashes again. If my death was to come at this moment, at least I had the rain pelting me from above and the wind touching my skin.

Searing pain burned through my thigh, straight into the heart of the muscle. I clenched my eyes shut and teeth together, groaning. I was on the verge of collapsing. Just when I was sure I couldn’t handle the waves of pain any longer, the pain vanished into the storm.

My leg tingled. I opened my eyes gingerly. The alien’s light tool had disappeared, along with all traces of pain and the tightness and heat of infection. I flexed my leg, grinning.

“Wow. That’s some…stuff. Can you heal Marge?”

“No. We can only use this to mend the outer layers of skin and muscle. She will reco-ver. I’ve observed her organ processes.”

“Good. Thank you.” I tossed my dad’s cane into the darkness. Won’t be needing that anymore. My gaze settled on the pavement’s newly-formed puddles as another question popped into my head. “Why did you give us special treatment from the beginning? The stuff you brought us, the personal favors? If desperation was your goal, wouldn’t you have achieved it quicker without all that?”

“The stations were mon-itored in different ways, allowing various levels of food, water, and supplies. It was the best way to organ-ize our research.”

“If you saw my dreams…that means I saw yours. You regretted watching those other stations suffer?”

“Yes.”

“Then why didn’t you refuse those orders, as well?”

“Our species is capable of sharing our un-conscious mind with others. That does not always mean we are able to share it with ourselves as rap-idly as we sometimes hope.”

Hope. I haven’t heard that word for some time. The clouds above us furrowed deep into the sky and pulled out a crack of thunder that echoed against the outer walls of the gym. The sound caused the murmurs from inside to stop. The doors opened a moment after.

Matt’s head appeared in the doorway. “Sam, why are you out here, and what the fuck was that noi—Oh, holy shit!” His face lit up. “Everyone! Come outside! It’s really outside! We’re fucking free!”

The alien glowed once again, and the outdoor cafeteria lights powered on, illuminating the waves of the storm and the gorgeous fog wisps. A grin stretched across my face as everyone sprinted out into the storm. Whatever energy they’d been saving, they spent it all now—dancing, laughing, and running in circles with arms outspread. Mouths opened wide to taste the rain. Dust and grime ran off and away from us.

Matt ran back inside and returned with Marge. He helped support her as she slowly made her way to the doorway. In Matt’s other hand, he held a fabric chair. He set it down in the door’s threshold, and she sat in it, gasping for breath. She was guarded from the storm, but close enough to smell the moist air and smile along with us. Simon appeared at her feet, lapping up water from a puddle.

Kisana, Naomi, and Donna danced in circles with Julie and Charles. All five of them splashed in the puddles and eagerly tasted the rain. Han and his parents started singing. Kisana’s parents prayed as the rain fell on them, Pablo’s rosary glinting in the watery light.

“So everyone will be free now?” I asked.

The alien was still at my side, head cocked in curiosity as he watched everyone play. “Emotionally com-plex…indeed.” It turned back to me. “I will let all encasements subside. They will join you short-ly.” The hologram shimmered blue again, clicking. “I have released the medical and police officials first. Your communicators should work now, as well as electrical towers. I waited to release you until the council realigned the planet’s satel-lites.”

“Matt!” I shouted. “Where’s the nearest hospital?”

He held his arms to the sky as thunder cracked again. “Close to here, I think.”

“Run there. Go. Find it. Send an ambulance. Get help for Marge, and tell them our phone lines and power should be working now.”

He obliged, tearing down the debris-covered street with a lantern in hand. Most of the buildings around us lay in ruins. Toppled skyscrapers, huge chunks of plaster, wood, and support beams covered the street that flashed with every arc of lightning.

“Another group has been released,” the alien said, pointing down an alleyway chocked full of broken lumber.

Shouts and whoops echoed from between the chunks of wood. Naomi and Donna rushed over with lanterns in hand, shouting to them. Everyone around us followed except for the alien and me. Joel stayed behind, giving Marge a cup of collected rain to drink. The happy shouts joined with the noisy raindrops, creating a symphony. Simon darted out into the storm and hid under my old lunch table, finding a quieter puddle to drink from.

The smile returned to my lips, and I found myself looking quizzically at the alien. “Your English is better,” I said. “Used to be pretty choppy.”

“Yes. I finally have a so-lid grasp on the language.”

“What’s…your species called? Mind if I ask?”

“Roughly transla-ted, we are known as nevrie.”

“Do you have a name?”

“Ian.”

I laughed. “Ian? All this time we’ve been calling you things like ‘monstrous voice’, ‘alien spokesperson’, ‘ugly holographic dude,’ and your name’s Ian?”

“Yes. Short for Ianyolianim.” Another blue light blinked from within the hologram, and the creature paused, as if interpreting a message. “I must…leave. The council is readying to de-part.”

“From orbit?”

“Yes. Our ships are undetectable with your tech-nology.”

“Will you get in trouble for letting us go?”

“Perhaps. But I am a scientist. I can be creative about the explanation. We will also learn, I think, from watching your dreams and thoughts as you are still alive.”

“You mean we’ll always be able to share dreams?” A shiver traveled through me as lightning cracked overhead, illuminating a circle of a dozen freed captives, dancing and hollering in the storm. Each face looked tired, dirty, disheveled, beaten, but still alive.

We were so accustomed to being timid around storms, seeking shelter from the heavy droplets. Not tonight. I caught Kisana’s glittering gaze in the light of the lightning arc. My heart rate quickened, delighting in the sight of her face under the falling rain.

“No. Just until we are far enough away to lose mental range from one another. By tomor-row morning, your time, we will be too far away.”

“Show me your true form before you leave,” I said. “Please.”

Kisana appeared at my side as Ian gave me a brief nod. She grabbed my hand. I squeezed it. Her palm was slick with rain. Fear enticed me to sneak back into the gym, hide from the alien’s unveiling, but I had pumping adrenaline on my side. Kisana’s warm grasp and an inner voice told me I couldn’t pass up this opportunity. The voice sounded a lot like David’s.

In a furious blue haze, Ian’s hologram disappeared, shrinking down to the size of medium-sized dog. We had to shield our eyes from the brightness of the light. It resonated with a silver glare, similar to the rest of the alien equipment. After the light faded away, a new color replaced the mechanical blue hue—pure white.

Ian was the size of a bulldog. Four stout legs, a large head, and skin that gave off a milky glow, reminding me of the color of a sun-covered snow bank. His face was remarkably human, with pale eyes and a tiny mouth and nose. Two cat-like ears perked up, and Ian cocked his head to us, a gesture close to the hologram’s. Ian rose up on two legs then, his limbs surprisingly agile and flexible, like a chimpanzee’s. Each appendage had six opposable fingers. In one hand, Ian held a ball-shaped device.

Kisana and I stared at the figure in front of us. The hand gripping mine tightened.

The ball in Ian’s palm began to glow. “As you can see, knowing your species, you may have been temp-ted to attack me if you had seen my true form.”

“True,” I said, swallowing hard. “I assume we wouldn’t have been able to get far?”

“No.” The glow around Ian increased and became edged with blue crisscrossed lines, the same glow that had caused the dome to dissolve. The glow formed a barrier around Ian, similar to a hologram, but solid.

“So that molten goop that’s around the gym, around your machines, made the dome, made your gun, and made your hologram was…part of you?”

“Yes. We form the substance within us, similar to a by-product.”

“Talk about self-sufficiency.”

“You can begin to see why other species fasci-nate us so much. Life is filled with so many possibilities.”

“Amazing,” Kisana said, her mouth open wide.

“Now, I must go.” The ball in Ian’s hand flashed, and with the flick of a broad wrist, the alien disappeared within a glow of blue-lined silver.

Chapter 26

Kisana and I stared at the empty space the glow left behind. Behind us, the happy shouts continued. Naomi’s voice rang out above the others as she excitedly told the newcomers our story.

An arc of lightning flashed above our heads as Kisana and I faced each other, our hands still intertwined. She shoved her free hand into the pocket of her hoodie and pulled out my wind chimes. They unfolded and clanged in the rainy breeze. “Almost like I foresaw this storm,” she said.

I smiled. Raindrops fell against the chunks of metal and tinged lightly against the top row of aluminum. As the drops slid down into the cat food cans, they emitted a lower-pitched noise. The two musical notes blended together, creating an odd, metallic harmony.

“That’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard,” I whispered. “I’m sorry I pushed you away. I was an idiot.”

“What you went through was traumatic. I can’t blame you for wanting space. Besides, it’s more my fault than yours. My fears got the best of me, I guess. I felt like I couldn’t breathe in that gym, yet the whole time, all I wanted to do was breathe in the scent of you. It may have seemed like I doubted my feelings toward you, but I don’t. Not in the least.” Kisana tossed me a lopsided smile. “You’re handsome in the rain.” She released my hand and ran hers through my wet hair. The wind chimes jangled next to us.

“Well, now you can have the fresh air, the fog, the sight of the harbor, real food to enjoy…and me.” I placed a hand under her chin and brought her face to mine, kissing her. She tasted like the storm—wet, wild, and finally free.

A pair of ambulances wailed behind us. The gathering of people made their way toward the noise. Joel and Han’s father lifted Marge up and carried her away from the doorway. Simon flicked his tail at me from under his table. All this we ignored. All we saw was each other.

Someone cleared their throat behind me. I brought my face away from Kisana’s for a brief moment, caressing her cheek.

It was Pablo. I took my hand away, meeting his gaze. The wind chimes continued to sing as the wet concrete around us shone crimson from the light of the approaching ambulances and fire truck. The light dived between puddles as raindrops plopped into the reflections.

Pablo stared at me, the siren lights reflecting off his face.

Kisana took a step toward him and reached back for my hand. I gave it a quick squeeze.

“Daddy, I’m sorry,” she said. “I wasn’t being honest with you.”

Pablo turned his head and met Kisana’s gaze. “Oh?” I felt her hand twitch within mine, and I squeezed it again, willing the strength of the storm to fuel her courage. It was all I could do.

“I wanted to spend every waking moment with Sam from the moment we shared our first kiss. I want nothing more than that right now, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make you see that. Mother Mary will always be close to my heart, but Sam takes precedence. I am…sorry.” Her body shuddered as she took a deep breath.

“You would abandon your religious upbringing for this reckless woman?”

“Yes. If need be. I do not need a church or cathedral to seek solace in my own personal prayers.”

Pablo sighed heavily, his gaze meeting the puddle-ridden concrete.

Marie appeared at his side. Her eyes were moist with rain and tears. “I heard everything,” she said. “Pablo, it seems we have no choice. Our Kisana must find her own happiness.”

“Yes,” Pablo said. “Mother Mary may not agree, but we in time, may be able to. It’s important we follow the paths that call to us. Such paths called to us when Marie and I were young, after all.”

Marie nodded, smiling. She held out her arms, and Kisana bounded into them, tossing me the wind chimes.

I held them up, gazing up at the storm, which was beginning to recede. A light spray of drops still pelted the bits of metal, but the lightning and thunder rumbled off to another part of the city. I smiled at the thought of other groups of captives running out into the storm, dancing to the rhythm and taste of rain. Amidst the skeletal remains of our city, of our planet—tonight was a night to celebrate.

Kisana joined me again as her parents wandered off to fetch Joel. Her face was bright with relief, happiness, and exhaustion. More sirens wailed around us as San Francisco took its first steps to recovering from the storm.

“I want to see how Marge is doing,” I said. “The ambulances haven’t left yet. Come on.”

We walked through the crowd of people. EMTs were handing out bottles of water and emergency ration energy bars. They looked as dirty and tired as the rest of us, but happy to be out in the storm, assisting others in need. It was a relief to see Ian’s kind had left the hospitals intact, presumably using them to house large numbers of citizens.

Kisana touched my elbow then pointed to the boxes of food, signaling me. I nodded. She disappeared to stand in the food line.

I continued to the ambulances, where Donna and Charles were keeping Marge company. Marge was lying in a gurney next to an ambulance, sheltered under a portable canopy. She had an IV pole at her side. She saw me approach, and smiled widely.

“How you feeling, Marge?” I asked.

“Better, thank you. Whatever’s in this concoction is doing the trick. They’re taking me to the hospital shortly.”

“Good. I’m glad the hospitals weren’t hit. Do you have someone you can call?”

“Yes, my friends. If they…” Her gaze dropped to the IV pole suddenly.

Donna laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Remember what that nice EMT said? They just got a call from the bridge hall near your place. I bet your friends were held up there and are safe and sound.”

Marge looked up at us again, heaving a sigh. “I pray you’re right.”

I squeezed her hand. “I know she’s right. You deserve all the happiness in the world.” My voice threatened to break apart. After all we’d been through, it was easy to think of her as family.

“So do you, Sam. I’m glad you made up with Kisana. I noticed you two kissing in the rain.” She peered at my wind chimes, which were swaying gently in the breeze.

I grinned, feeling my face flush. “This has been an amazing night.”

A EMT appeared at Marge’s side, readying to hoist the wheeled gurney into the ambulance. “You going with her, Donna?” I asked.

“Yeah. Naomi’s meeting us there. She needed to see our…prison one last time.” She shook her head, laughing. “Crazy lady.” Charles gurgled with laughter from within Donna’s arms.

I smiled at the boy. “Well. I’ll just have to come visit you guys.” I made a mental note of the hospital’s name on the side of the ambulance then gave Marge’s hand another squeeze. “Make sure they take good care of you, Marge. I’ll come see you tomorrow. Tonight Kisana and I have some celebrating to do.”

Marge laughed. “Ah, to be young again.” The gurney disappeared from view as the EMT lifted her into the ambulance and closed the double doors. Donna gave me a quick one-armed hug. “We’ll see you tomorrow. Enjoy the night.” She grinned and entered the passenger side of the ambulance.

The ambulance made its way down the debris-coated alley, sirens wailing. A pair of young men were hastily clearing a path as more emergency vehicles made their way to us. Humans were strange beings. So focused on their own individual lives until the moment disaster strikes—and suddenly we’re a unified race again.

Kisana appeared at my side with one arm full of water bottles and energy bars. “Marge okay?”

I nodded. “We’ll have to go see her tomorrow.”

“What about you? Shouldn’t you get your leg checked out?”

“Nah. It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

She scowled at me. “Uh-huh. You’re not allowed to drop dead on me.”

“I won’t. Ian healed it for me. Strange little guy.” I grinned.

“Oh. Well, then. I like this sound of this ‘we.’ Do you think your place is intact?”

“Probably. One good thing about single-story duplexes…kinda hard to topple them over.”

She smiled. “Okay. You won me over. Take me to your place. But don’t forget your cat. I’ll tell my parents we’re leaving.”

I handed over the wind chimes and David’s ashes then ran back into the gym. The overhead lights were on now, and I squinted up at them. The brightness looked foreign. I stood at the doorway, my eyes tracing over the rounded edges of our tents. The air inside smelled heated, filled with sweat. Fearful. I stepped inside timidly. A part of me wanted nothing to do with the room ever again.

Simon meowed at me and rubbed up against my legs, giving me the burst of courage I needed. “I know, baby. We’re headed home.” Home. A smile tightened across my face again. The cat and I entered the gym and crossed the dusty floor to my tent. I grabbed Kisana’s painting, a blanket to protect it, the pride flag Julie had made, my dad’s ashes, and my story.

When I exited the tent with my arms full, Matt, Naomi, and Julie were waiting for me. All three wore the same expression Kisana wore—relieved, ecstatic, exhausted. I knew my face echoed the look as well.

“Marge is on her way to Saint Francis, along with Donna and Charles,” I told them.

“Oh, good,” Naomi said. “I was hoping you hadn’t left already. Julie and I are heading there now. Will you be okay tonight?”

“Yeah. Kisana and I are headed to my place. I told Marge we’d go see you guys tomorrow. Why’d you come back in here, anyway?” I peered at her curiously.

She held up her carry-all bag. It bulged with a rolled-up sheet of cardboard. “I needed a few souvenirs. Julie’s calendar, my trowel that kept getting us into trouble, and our knitting supplies. I see you grabbed a few things too.”

“I’m guilty.” I smiled, letting my gaze trail over the gym again. “I’ll never forget this place—as awful as our time was here. I’ll never forget the friends I’ve made.”

Naomi held her arms out wide. “Me neither. I’m gonna miss you, girl. Take care of Kisana. Come see us tomorrow at the hospital.”

I set down my pile of stuff and shared an embrace with her. “Definitely.” I turned to face Julie then. “I’m going to miss you, Julie, even if it’s just for one night. I’ll miss your sunny calendar and sunny smile.”

“I wish my daddy was here,” she said.

I knelt down to hold the little girl. “Me too. But he’ll always be with you, guiding you, showing you the stars, tucking you in at night. Telling you weird stories.” I reached into my pocket and took out David’s watch. Placing it in her hand, I showed her the twine loop I’d placed on it. I’d cut off the bands too. This way, Julie could use it for a pendant or pocket watch. “Remember this? Would you like to hold on to it? You’ll need to be careful.”

Julie nodded fervently. I looped it around her neck, giving her another squeeze.

Matt shuffled his feet against the floor. “Maybe you should collect kids and cats, Sam,” he said. “Make it a real dyke-o-rama at your place.”

“No. I’m good, thanks. But I will be keeping an eye on this little girl, believe me.”

“I hope Cluckers was destroyed, burned to the goddamn ground.”

I laughed. “Me too. Even if it’s not, I probably won’t be back there. Not that you’ll care.”

He tossed me a sheepish grin and stared down at his soggy shoes. “Nah. I’m not going back either. Gonna check on my family in Denver if the roads are free. See what happens next.”

“Take care of yourself, and feel free to give me a call if you ever want a noob to go parasailing with. I’d love to give it a shot.”

“Will do. For the record, you didn’t deserve me being an ass to you.”

“You…did deserve me being an ass to you,” I said.

The four of us laughed as we gathered up our things and left the building that had been our home for a time length none of us wanted to even imagine. It had to have been at least three months. Simon sauntered around my feet again as I gave the outside lunch table one last, long stare. It was time to leave. Simon needed real food, and we all needed to remember what it was like to live free again.

Naomi, Matt, and Julie disappeared back into the group around the ambulances. I found Kisana where I had left her. She cradled a large box.

“What’s in there?” I asked.

“Some of our family photographs. Change of clothes. Your weird ball. Wind chimes. Rations. Looks like you got a few souvenirs, too.”

“Yeah, except I wasn’t very smart about grabbing a box. Let me carry yours, and then I can put my junk in it. Have a hungry cat.” I picked up Simon who was still circling around my feet and set him in Kisana’s arms. I didn’t want him to get lost in the crowd. He swished his tail at me then settled into her warm embrace. “Oh, and don’t get rid of that ball. I’m keeping it until Julie gets older. David’s ashes are in it.”

She tossed me an arched-eyebrow glance as I led us through the group. I found myself nodding to those I recognized and even those I didn’t. There was a sort of understanding between all of us. We had survived being held captive. We had survived.

An ambulance wailed past us as we distanced ourselves from the crowd of survivors and the shadow of our prison. In the distance, a helicopter whirred. A breeze picked up again, and I shared a grin with Kisana. The little things we had taken for granted all our lives—the sensation of a moist breeze, the ability to dance in the midst of a storm, and the familiar sounds of humanity—we wouldn’t take them for granted ever again.

When we reached the top of a large hill, we stopped, gazing down at the patches of rubble and ruins, leading all the way down to the ocean. A bank of fog was just starting to roll off the bay, whispering prayers through the forlorn streets.

“The streets don’t have to be empty anymore,” I murmured. “Let’s go. Maybe we can find one of Ian’s broken-into Walmarts along the way, grab some food. Simon’s not going to be a happy camper unless we hunt down cat food.”

“Do you even know the way back to your place?”

I grinned. “Not really. But I can see the glint of the ocean through the cloud cover. That’s all the compass I need.”

About the Author

Living in Hemet, California, Laura Hardgrave writes science fiction and fantasy with a queer edge. Her current project is a four-part fantasy novel series involving the creation of life and magic, a GLBT host of characters, a talking rock, feline shifters, and lots of sake. She’s a bit of a self-proclaimed weirdo. By day, she’s also an MMORPG gaming journalist, avid gamer, reader, and animal lover. Captive by the Fog is her debut novel. Find out more at her website:

Website: http://laurahardgrave.blogspot.com/

Blog: http://laurahardgrave.blogspot.com/

Twitter: @laurahardgrave

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/laura.hardgrave.5

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright Information

Content Warning

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

About the Author

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright Information

Content Warning

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

About the Author