Page 25 of Dusk & Desire
I can’t believe I can laugh after the week we’ve had. It’s almost over, though. We’re nearing the bridge across the bayou, and the East Gate is just beyond that. I don’t know what our life will look like a week from now, but I’m certain hearing that my parents made it safely to Fort Hunter Ligget will take a huge burden off my shoulders.
“I think I need new sneakers,” I muse, looking down at my Sketchers. “The memory foam isn’t… memory foaming anymore.”
When I look up at Noa, I see her eyeing me with an eyebrow raised and an indulgent smile. “That’s what you’re thinking about right now?” she asks.
“Mmm,” I hum, nodding. “That and an omelet. Think we canfind some hens to raise one day?”
The light in Noa’s eyes warms my insides faster than the vodka did. She opens her mouth to respond, and I can’t wait to see what she’s going to say. But then a shrill scream freezes all that warmth to ice.
A woman runs out from behind a corner, and Axel steps in front of us protectively. She’s not paying us any mind, though, running like a headless chicken in the direction of the bayou.
“What the fuck?” Axel whispers as we watch her go.
“I don’t care what it is, let’s get out of here,” Noa says, her tone allowing for no argument. Fully agreeing, I forget all about the state of my shoes’ memory foam and start hoofing it in the direction of the base.
We don’t get far when more people burst out of the side streets, running and screaming. Before long, we’re surrounded by a dozen people, more than we’ve seen all week combined. I don’t know why we’re running, but the herd mentality is definitely strong. With every step, I worry about losing sight of Noa and Axel, of tripping and being left behind or trampled.
Noa would find me, I think to myself, as the rapid way I’m breathing dries out my throat. Just then, someone knocks into her side, pressing right onto the fresh bullet wound. Her husky scream of pain stops my heart and my feet. Axel and I surround her and protect her with our bodies as the last man passes, no one bothering to ask if she’s alright.
“Sis, you okay?” Axel asks, as out of breath as I am.
Tears stream down Noa’s face, her brave and confident demeanor faltering when faced with the body’s response to pain. Her lower lip trembles as she nods, gingerly holding her arm. “Let’s go,” she says, her broken voice stabbing me right in the heart.
Just as we start moving again, following the departing crowd, I see the reason for the stampede.
“Oh. My God,” I breathe. Axel and Noa turn to where I’m looking.
It’s the aliens. Two of them stalk in our direction, casually,without hurry. They’re covered head to toe in heavy, matte green armor that looks like it’s molded from oxidized metal, the surface scored with gouges and ridges, the lines sharp and disturbing. They’re huge, at least seven feet tall, and brutishly bulky. But they don’t seem to be clumsy – more like tanks shaped into humanoid forms.
They’re wearing angular helmets, featureless except for a black, segmented visor that pulses faintly, almost like it’s breathing. Tubes run from the base of the helm into their neck plating, exhaling small, rhythmic hisses. One raises an arm, and its fingers split into a clawed mechanism that clicks softly before curling back in.
There’s something wrong with the way they move. It’s not robotic, but not entirely organic either. Like something wearing a skin it wasn’t born into. And their armor looks almost like it’s alive, shifting, pulsing, groaning with the movements.
I’m suffused by dread at the sight, like a teabag dunked into boiling water. My every hair stands at attention, my body screaming at me that a predator approaches, that I’m not safe, that my loved ones are in danger.
“R–Run,” I stutter, tugging on Noa’s uninjured arm. Axel remains frozen to the spot, his mouth wide open. “Axel!” I hiss. I can’t believe I’m being the proactive one here!
When the siblings tear themselves out of the daze of seeing extraterrestrial beings, something I’ll be having nightmares about for the next fifty years – if I live that long – we burst into a sprint, running faster than we did before.
“Drop the backpacks,” Noa gasps after looking behind us.
“They’re… not… heavy… anymore…” I gasp between shallow breaths.
I’m afraid to check how close the aliens are, looking only ahead as we run across the bridge. Axel is braver than I am, though.
“They’re gone,” he says. “But don’t stop.”
I don’t have the spare breath to tell him I didn’t plan on stopping. Instead, I focus on the people I see ahead and pretend we’re playing catch. I’m it.
“I see the gate!” Noa exclaims. I squint ahead. Are her eyes better than mine? Must be all the romance books I read late at night. It’s not long, though, until I see the barricade set up where the checkpoint used to be. Clearly, they fortified the area. But is it enough against these foes? We might just find out.
Uniformed people wave the running people through, their guns out and aimed. Maybe they’re worried that some of the zombies – or whatever they are – are among us.
“Almost there, pretty girl,” Noa says, her hand searching for mine. It takes me a couple of tries to grasp it, my limbs shaky from the exertion. Finally, I take her hand just as we enter the base.
We’ve made it.