Kate
Isigh softly to myself, listening to his quiet breathing. It’s been a few minutes since he asked me that question. Not that he waited for an answer. Nope, he just made himself comfortable somewhere deep inside the store and seems to have instantly fallen asleep.
Shapes are now slowly appearing before me as my eyes get accustomed to the darkness. My footsteps are silent as I make my way farther into the store. It gets colder with each step and the shivers that rake up my spine are brutal. Just to the left is the big showroom display window, its jagged, broken glass letting in all the cold wind and rain. I need to head to the back of the store and try to find some warmth. There’s got to be a place where they have bedroom displays with a warm comforter I could use to wrap myself in.
I walk until I can’t hear the sounds of his breathing—deep into the back of the store where I find a small office area—one with a door that locks. My clothes are soaked from the rain and my skin is achy and cold. Hanging from the back of the door is a thin coat that someone must have forgotten. It reeks of cigarettes and stale beer, but it’s warm and that’s all I need at the moment. It takes me a few minutes to peel off my wet layers of clothing until I’m standing with the coat wrapped around me, shivering uncontrollably.
There’s a small, worn-out couch up against the wall, and I’m so tired and cold that I don’t even care that it scratches and pinches at my skin. The room is spinning too fast. I haven’t eaten all day, I gave the last of what was edible in the apartment to Claire and Dad and packed the two breakfast bars for our trip. I hang my head in my hands and hope they are both someplace being fed, someplace warm.
I don’t mean to but I fall asleep with my father’s sheathed knifed in one hand and the flashlight in the other.
* * *
I’m startled awake by a soft click of the door.
A door I distinctly remember locking.
Sunlight is pouring in from the window and a strange man is standing in the threshold of the door, watching me.
I scramble off the couch, wrapping the coat tighter around my body. My hands are empty, and I curse under my breath about how vulnerable I left myself.I should have never fallen asleep. My eyes quickly search the floor and the cushions of the couch for the knife, but my eyes are still sticky with sleep. They only thing I see are my bare legs covered in a thick layer of gooseflesh.
I canfeelhim staring at me—like his eyes are somehow touching my skin—and I try to pull the stupid coat over my legs, but fail miserably and curse under my breath.
“I brought you clothing,” the man says quietly, walking hesitantly toward me. I rub the heels of my hands over my eyes, trying to clear my vision. He’s dressed in a pair of washed-out jeans and a thick dark sweater. Bright white and orange price tags dangle from the waist of the pants and the arm of the shirt. My eyes fly all over the rest of the man’s body and narrow in on his face. His skin is flawless and clear, his hair is darker than night, and his eyes are bright like the sky.
“It’s you?” I stammer.
He draws his eyes to my face, and with a deliberate intensity trails his gaze down the curve of my neck, and over the front of my body where it lingers on my legs long enough to make me feel completely exposed. He swallows hard and looks quickly away. “I could hear you shivering from outside. There was clothing next door…” his voice trails off.
“I locked the door,” I said, pointing a cold finger to the knob behind him.
His lips straighten and curl down into a frown. “Not well enough.”
My eyes slowly blink. “You… You lookhuman. But you were made of metal yesterday,” I say stupidly.
“I see we’ve obviously landed on a superior planet,” he clips sarcastically.
My cheeks flame and a lump hardens painfully in the base of my throat. I gulp down the knot and stand straighter. “Thank you for the clothes. Please leave so I can change.”
One of his eyebrows perks up higher than the other and his smirk gets deeper. “If that’s what youreallywant.”
Stupid alien asshole. “Yes, that is what Ireallywant.”
As soon as he closes the door, I drop to the floor in search of the knife. It’s wedged between the wall and the couch, and I feel immediately better with it back in my hand. I dress quickly, keeping my eyes fixed on the door.How does someone not lock something well enough?
I walk out of the room dressed in a thick thermal top and black leggings. He’s leaning against an antique-looking grandfather clock, flicking his fingers at the price tag on his clothes. He doesn’t even look in my direction as he speaks to me. “What are these for?” he asks, tapping a finger against one.
“Has to do with class. Only really superior humans are allowed to wear them.” Petty to say, but it feels satisfying.
He grunts and turns his attention to the front of the store. “Where is my faceplate?”
“Where is my sister?” I snap, pulling my backpack up over my shoulders. My father’s vest is still damp; I’m going to need something heavier to shield myself from the weather.
“Probably turned to dust by now,” he says without emotion.
My heart stills in my chest and I can’t catch my breath. The rim of my eyelids burn with the tears I’m fighting. My nose flares out and my lips pinch together hard. “Is that why you all came here? To turn us all to dust?”
“No, it isn’t,” he says quietly.
