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Grav dipped into a deep-knee bend, careful to avoid dislodging the chain attached to his arm. He’d been doing what he could to stretch and exercise—marching in place, doing lunges and knee bends, and cautiously flexing his arms.

A clap of thunder reverberated through the cave, and he jerked, unmooring his arm from the bedpost. The loose plastic tie went flying, landing next to the bed, but out of reach even with one arm free. Hurriedly, he grabbed the last tie from under the mattress.

In his haste to reattach the chain before she caught him, he accidentally reattached it the right way—rechaining himself to the bed.

“Pikur zok vinik okum!”

Now, he had to start all over. Worse, if she noticed the tie on the floor, he’d be screwed. Even if she didn’t realize the implication, he needed the tie to connect his arm to the bedpost once he freed it again. Could he maybe reach the tie with the ladder rung?

All he could do was hope she left before she noticed.

On another crack of thunder, Laurel appeared. He averted his gaze from the telltale tie. “It’s raining like a mother out there,” she announced.

He’d experienced the area’s weather. Rain often poured down in a deluge, drenching him in seconds.

“I’d planned to go to town again, but that’s out,” she said.

Pikur zok vinik okum! He grimaced.

“Tired of my company already?”

“Not at all,” he countered. “I was hoping we could talk some more.”

“What do you want to talk about?”

“You,” he replied.

“Me?”

“I’d like to know more about you.”

She planted her hands on her hips. Today, she wore a pair of tight blue pants that molded her limbs and a rather attractive long-sleeve shirt printed with some sort of vegetation. Flowers, he decided. “Why should I tell you anything?” she asked.

“Maybe to build empathy for your people?”

She snorted. “Don’t insult my intelligence. You don’t give a fuck about my people.”

But I give a fuck about you. I give too many fucks. His weakness. A character flaw. Because he cared about her, he’d begun to care about the other survivors. But she would never believe him. “Then how about a way to pass the time?”

“I have things to do to pass the time.” But she sat.

“Do you have siblings?” he asked, starting with the question she’d asked him.

“I had a brother,” she replied bitterly, and he realized his screwup. There were no safe topics when her life and world had been forever altered for the worse.

“Older or younger,” he forged ahead. He had nothing to lose at this point.

“Older. He lived in Kansas City. He was a police officer.”

“Is that near here?” he asked. He didn’t know the names of Earth’s cities. He doubted anyone in command did either. Names didn’t matter. They scanned for the largest population centers and hit those first.

“About 200 miles away. He’d planned to come here, but he was dedicated to his job. We’d watched the big cities fall. Kansas City is the most populous city in Missouri, but it’s a hick town in the middle of nowhere compared to New York or LA or Chicago. He thought he’d have time to get out.

“I was FaceTiming with him and his girlfriend when they were killed. One second, they were there—the next, they weren’t.”

Oh, Zok, her brother died in front of her. The death would have been instantaneous and painless, but that wouldn’t lessen her anguish. He had no way to express his genuine regret. She wouldn’t believe him, and any condolences would not be well received.

“What was his name?” It seemed important.

“Brent.”

“You loved him very much.”

Her lip curled. “What would you know about love?”

“Nothing,” he admitted. His people had learned of love by monitoring Earth broadcasts prior to the campaign launch. They’d mocked the sentimentality. In hindsight, he realized he had desperately craved the love of the mother who’d abandoned him. He’d adored the baby brother who’d become an automaton even before entering the MEC.

“Brent’s girlfriend was worried about her grandmother who didn’t drive. She lived outside of St. Louis. I promised Lillian I’d get her grandmother.

“Then Brent and Lillian got vaporized. I raced to St. Louis, but I was too late. Everybody within a fifty-mile perimeter of the city was dead. The interstate was gridlocked by people trying to flee. I took to the back roads, avoiding towns with any significant population. It took an entire day to get home. My parents had waited for me before going to the cave—and they paid the price with their lives.” She glowered. “So, what else do you want to talk about?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Fuck you.”

* * * *

The rain showed no sign of abating. By the evening of the second day, she was about to lose her mind and decided she would venture out the next morning, no matter what the weather. She might only get as far as her parents’ house, but she had to get away from Grav.

With this much rain, Big Creek, the town’s namesake, had probably overflowed its banks and flooded the low-water crossings, if not the bridge. The main highway wouldn’t be flooded, but she couldn’t get through because of the cars.

She’d done her best to avoid him, except for bringing him meals—delivered silently—and sleeping—fitfully. Neither books nor solitaire could hold her attention for more than a few minutes. Thoughts and emotions replayed on a loop. She was stuck on a hamster wheel and couldn’t get off.

Their conversation about Brent had reignited survivor’s guilt. She’d been saved by a fluke. Why hadn’t she insisted everyone seek shelter sooner? Why hadn’t she made her parents go to the cave before she left for St. Louis? She’d known the Progg were closing in! They’d just hit Kansas City, killing Brent and Lillian!

She’d wept for the townspeople, friends, and her hospital coworkers who’d perished. But the death of her parents and brother had devastated her. She and her family had made a stupid, fatal error in judgment—they’d figured they’d have time to flee because the Progg would march on Big Creek like they had hundreds of other small towns, and they could follow the progress reports on social media.

Big Creek was an insignificant speck on a map.

But Springfield, Missouri wasn’t. After hitting Kansas City and St. Louis, alien spaceships had vaporized Springfield, and its environs.

Her entire family was gone. A normal life and future gone. Hopes and dreams gone.

Grav said he was sorry ?

The apology hit like a blast of ice water on a bad tooth. What the fuck good did being sorry do? It couldn’t bring back her family and the billions of others who perished. It didn’t restore her freedom and peace of mind. She’d forever be looking over her shoulder and peering around the corner. An apology couldn’t restore the electricity, the transportation system, communication, agriculture, the availability of medical care. She could bandage and suture a wound, dispense medications until they expired, but she couldn’t take a simple X-ray. No electricity.

What somehow made it worse was that she believed he was sincere in his own way. She’d seen the sympathy in his disconcerting eyes.

Until today’s conversation, she'd begun to feel compassion for the scared little alien boy. Her parents had died waiting for her, and his couldn’t be bothered to visit him once a year. His people parented like sea turtles, leaving the hatchlings to fend for themselves. The oppressive, repressive, loveless culture had produced remorseless annihilators.

Before his apology, she’d sensed Grav was different and didn’t share the Progg’s murderous intentions, that maybe he had a conscience. But maybe her judgment was skewed? Maybe she’d fallen into a twist on Stockholm syndrome. He was the prisoner, she the guard, but she’d started to see him as having been wronged.

How dare she empathize with the enemy who’d killed her family and destroyed civilization?

Yet, she’d always rejected the notion of original sin, that people present and future bore the debt of transgressions committed by their ancestors. She’d judged people on their deeds not the actions of others. To require future generations to pay for crimes committed by people long dead did not serve society. Such action had fueled centuries of resentment, strife, and warfare.

If she still believed that way, how could she in good conscience convict Grav of atrocities he hadn’t committed? He hadn’t fired on the cities.

She needed to get out, get away, be alone to settle her mind. There was no place in the cave where she wasn’t hyperconscious of him. She’d give the weather one more day to clear up.

“Tomorrow, no matter what, I’m going out. If I have to swim across the creek, I’ll do it!”