Page 66

Seeker

It does not escape me that this setting resembles that film: a group of friends in a remote location.

And then terrible things start to happen.

People go missing. Since three of us aren’t from this planet, our story shouldn’t deviate into a grimmer realm.

And I generally prefer more cheerful entertainments, where no one meets a grisly end and humans are rewarded for their efforts.

The others are playing a game with cards and dice.

I couldn’t settle long enough to focus on learning the rules.

Tad chortles over a move that ends with him destroying someone’s crops.

I am too uneasy to stay still. I haven’t seen Jen in a while, and our last conversation weighs on me.

That simply cannot be our last exchange.

Not when it feels as if she’s perilously close to etching herself onto my very being, my heart’s match, my first love.

“Has anyone seen Jen?”

Tad glances at me, setting down the cards in his hand. “Not for a while.”

“She’s not here,” Poppy says softly.

“Her car is there. Where did she go?” Ravik asks.

That is an excellent question. We are far from civilization, no stores or restaurants she could be visiting on foot. The remoteness that makes it possible for us to be free from the tech camo also offers danger.

“I think she took the trail behind the house,” Poppy replies, tumbling the dice.

This comfortable habitation suddenly chills me to my core. I may not feel warm again until I am assured that Jen is free from harm. “She is out there now?”

“As far as I know.” Poppy seems to realize it’s serious.

Jaz rises, all ethereal beauty as she drifts to the window. “How long has it been?”

Poppy makes frightened bird gestures with her hands, then drags them through her red hair. “I’m not sure. I was talking to Ravik and lost track of time.”

“It will be fully dark soon,” Ravik murmurs.

“Not good,” Tad says.

“That is an understatement,” I snap.

I should not vent my anger on him. He’s not the one who hurt Jen. I made her feel as if I do not value her. Nothing could be further from the truth. For all the chaos and difficulty on 97-B—no, on Earth, that’s what the locals call it—I wouldn’t change anything about my time here.

Because it led me to her.

“Did she seem upset when she left?” Jaz asks.

The questions lances straight through me, leaving devastation in its wake. What if she’s lost? Or hurt? Or worse, what if—

No . I cannot finish that thought. The prospect of a universe without Jen is one that I refuse to entertain.

There is a growing certainty in me. I don’t wish to leave her. Not now, not ever. She’s become the axis my world rotates on, and the prospect of losing her makes feel ill.

“Do you have flashlights?” I ask Ravik.

Silently, he goes to the closet and produces two.

I snatch one. “We need to find her. Now.”

I hear them making plans as I rush toward the door. “Poppy and I will stay here in case Jen turns up. I’ll send a text,” Jaz says.

“I’ll go with Ravik,” Tad volunteers.

“Should we really let him go alone?” Poppy must be referring to me, but I bang out into the night without regard for their thoughts.

In my mind, there’s only Jen. If there are hunters in these woods tonight, I will be shot on sight. Pebbles and twigs crunch underfoot as I race past the house, the shadowed woods swallowing up the beam I skim back and forth, hoping to locate Jen with the next sweep.

Behind me, Tad calls out, “This way!”

They seem to be heading in a different direction.

“Jen!” I call.

No answer, just the rustle of leaves and the soft whisper of the wind. The woods close in, the air heavy with a sharp scent that must come from the trees.

I move faster, paying no attention to branches snapping back, though my skin is too durable to show damage as a human’s would.

I register the pain, and it doesn’t matter.

All that matters is finding her. I hear…

something. But I am not overly familiar with the wilderness on 97-B.

It might be a timid nocturnal woodland creature.

But then I hear voices, and it’s not Tad or Ravik. “You’re sure the signal originated here? If you mobilized us for some bullshit snipe hunt—”

“I’m telling you, it’s legit. That signal was strong as hell and it didn’t match anything our tech generates. I confirmed with contacts in Las Vegas. I’m networked in, man. I got eyes and ears all over.”

“Whatever, Clarence Junior. I shoot a little green man tonight or you’re getting punched. And try to keep your ponytail from getting caught on all the bushes, dumbass.”

Ponytail . Is this the stalker from Space Con?

I’m trying to stay quiet, but I don’t know the terrain. I pause. One of them moves softly, deliberately, as if he is trained to move among the trees. The other is even louder than I am, stumbling into brambles and cursing about it. I cannot gauge how close they are, but fear prickles through me.

Why did I forgo the tech camo? If I had it, this encounter would pose no threat at all.

I should have realized that if Ravik could detect the signal, others could as well.

I knew they were searching. My carelessness has put everything at risk.

I press on, my senses heightened, every shadow a potential threat, every rustling leaf a whispered warning.

“What was that?” They’re even closer now. Right on top of me.

I freeze and try to make myself small.

A sharp sound rings out. I recognize it from violent local entertainment. Gunshots. They’re shooting at something. I should run, but that might be the wrong move. Staying still might be wrong too. Once more I’m faced with a decision where each option seems potentially incorrect.

Bullets zip through the air, peppering the trees nearby. What are they shooting at? A loud growl sounds, closer than I wish.

Then the militant one says, “Jesus Christ. That’s no alien. It’s a bear!”

“Oh shit,” Clarence of the Ponytail says.

Now they’re running. I spring forward, hopefully in the opposite direction.

I weave between trees, a blur against the dense tapestry of the forest. Branches claw at my skin, but I cannot slow down.

The hunters are shouting, but I don’t know if that’s because they’ve glimpsed me or if they’re fleeing from a greater threat.

I dart left, then right. Visceral fear writhes within me, a monster made of tentacles and terror, but it’s matched by determination not to become a trophy on some alien hunter’s wall.

I must find Jen and get to safety. I push forward, driven by an instinct as old as the cosmos itself—survive. One breath longer, one moment more.

Then the noises fade. I believe they’re out of range. I eluded them. I think.

But I still haven’t found her.

“Jen?”

I should not have left her alone. She displayed all signs of distress and she retreated because of the pain she felt at the prospect of parting.

But I grasped the course I must follow a fraction too late.

Why didn’t I encourage her to communicate?

She said those things under emotional duress, not because she meant them. Oona sometimes reacts the same way.

A glint catches my eye—the faintest reflection of light off something metallic. I veer toward it, stumbling over a jutting root. It’s Jen’s phone, abandoned by the edge of the trail.

I bend slowly, retrieving her communications device.

She wouldn’t have left this on purpose. I pick it up and touch the screen.

Before, she said she wished we could take selfies together, but the tech camo won’t permit my human illusion to be recorded, and keeping evidence of my true self felt like too great a risk.

If she returns to me safely, I will take a selfie with her with my patterns glowing with adoration for her.

I make that pledge like a prayer while calling her name until the syllable sounds wrong.

Ahead, the path forks, and I hesitate for a split second before taking the left route—it’s steeper, rockier, but it’s angling up.

There’s probably an incredible view of the stars once you push past the trees.

That’s the way she would go, if she’s able to walk.

“Any sign of her?” Ravik’s faint shout reaches me, barely audible at this distance.

“Not yet!” I should warn them about the hunters, but I don’t even slow down.

The trees are thinning now, stars sparkling overhead. I scramble up the rocky promontory, unable to respirate for the fear clogging my senses. I cannot even call her name anymore. If she came this way, if she fell—

I hear the sound first, the scrape of shoes on stone.

I turn inhumanly fast, switching the spectrum of my vision.

And she is there, glowing in all her glorious hues.

Relief crashes over me so fiercely it almost sends me tumbling onto my extensors.

For a long, desperate moment, I only gaze at her and breathe.

She’s safe. She’s whole.

I could berate her for the wicked punishment I have endured while searching for her. But anger is not my chief emotion in this moment. Rather, I am grateful, and we are here to celebrate Thanksgiving. I whisper a word of thanks to any beings who may be inclined to bless us.

Thank you for keeping her from harm. Thank you for safeguarding my greatest joy.

“I do not wish to live in a world without you,” I say, unable to conceive how to articulate it more clearly. “You are the light in my pattern.”

I am not sure if that meaning will translate; it is part of the ritual and the vows we speak when formalizing relationships.

But I think she understands when she reaches out, fingers tentatively brushing mine.

It’s all the invitation I need to join her beneath the stars she has always loved.

These selfsame stars that I passed through to find her.

“I’m not leaving. Not now, not ever.”

“But your family…” she whispers.

“This is where I belong. You asked me before…and I couldn’t answer.”

She’s still whispering, her eyes glowing with delight or starlight. “If you’d stay when you have a choice?”

“My decision is clear. I will not go anywhere without you, my sun and stars. I love you. More than freedom, more than my homeworld, more than life.”