Kate
I’m awake before the first hint of light seeps through the dark room, but I remain silent, staring at the figure sleeping next to me. Before long, the gray dawn slowly creeps through the drapes, landing in chaotic patterns over his face. He looks peaceful now, and if I really think about it, handsome.
He’s quite striking honestly, with high cheekbones and one of those chiseled-from-marble jaws.
I flip up my middle finger and stick it in his sleeping face.
I’m still feeling crappy about the flinch-back he had when he touched me last night, and you know, the whole taking over the world shit. Today, I want to find my sister and be done with him. I don’t know why he and his minions are here, but I just want to get Claire and find a safe place with someone in charge. Somewhere with food and medicine.
I manage to sit up without screaming out in pain. My body hurts all over, but it doesn’t feel like something a few pain relievers can’t quiet down. I’ve rested and I can eat some of the food I found yesterday, I’ll be fine.
I have to be.
Dangling my feet off the bed, I stretch into a loud yawn that comes out more like a roar. I stomp out of the room, bumping and clanging everything in sight. He’s slept enough. It’s time to get up and find my sister. Another night stuck with him would piss me off.
I knock off a half a dozen metal bowls from the counter onto the tiled floor of the kitchen. The noise is raucous.
I sigh and open one of the long counter drawers. Utensils, rattle against each other. I slip out the sharpest steak knife I see and slide it in my back pocket to hide in my backpack later. It may not be much, but it’s something. God only knows where my father’s pocket knife went.
There are packets of instant coffee I find in the second drawer. It makes me yelp out a cheer and dance around the kitchen. Immediately, I pour it into a mug of water. It’ll be cold, but that’s fine by me. I wonder if I could somehow warm up a pot of it in that fireplace we used last night. There’s a box of chocolate-flavored cereal I jam my hand into and eat dry while thinking about warm coffee. The cereal tastes like rich milk chocolate. My hunger insists it’s literally the best thing I’ve ever shoved in my mouth.
I hear Rune moving in the front bedroom so I make my way back in, sipping on my room-temperature coffee and chewing on a fistful of cocoa-flavored breakfast food.
Rune stands facing the window. He’s not wearing a shirt; it’s crumpled on the floor at his feet, which are also bare. His shoulders tighten and flex as he looks over them at me. His eyes look almost colorless in the grayish light, making him look as supernatural as I think he really may be. His features seem hard; jaw clenched, neck corded, some heavy weight pressing down on him that’s invisible to me.
For a few moments we linger, silently watching each other. Then the skin around his eyes softens and his hands gently fall to his sides. He shifts slightly, turning his body in a way that I don’t even realize he’s moved until he’s completely facing me.
I don’t like that I keep forgetting he’s not supposed to be here. Or that he’s not really on my side in whatever’s going on in the world. I don’t like the fact I keep forgetting he’s not human.Or whatever my definition of human is—whatever the hell that meant.
I look away first, dropping my gaze to the floor. “What’s it look like outside?” I ask, speaking to the discarded shirt.
His attention turns toward the window again and he silently shakes his head. When he looks back at me his gaze is ice-cold and made of steel.
The expression makes me rush to the window and shove the curtains fully open. Rune tries to stop me, pushing in front of me and hissing something under his breath. But I tighten the grip on the curtain and press forward anyway.
I struggle to keep my breakfast down.
I almost fail miserably over my new clean shirt.
A strange sound chokes out from the back of my throat and my eyes begin to cloud with tears.
At the edge of the curb, where slush and blood mix together, there are still bodies. The dead bodies we ran past the night before.
My first impulse is to scramble away, close the curtains, and hide. Instead I freeze in terror, my heart nearly pounding out of my chest.
Every inch of uncovered skin is pocked with a revolting trypophobia-inducing effect—clusters of darkened holes that make my skin crawl. Their heads are all severed, pulled apart from the rest of their bodies, limbs separated at the joints, and all of them are dressed in that alien armor.
Is this what his kind does to humans? Does that mean Claire doesn’t have a chance? I swallow back my anger before it robs me of the ability to reason. My vision narrows to slits when I look back toward Rune. “What happened to them?” Panic bubbles up in my chest and I can’t control it. I rip the kitchen knife out of my back pocket and hold it between us. There’s no thought to it—just instinct—if they are killing humans, they must have killed Claire too and he’s been lying to me.
His lips turn down as his eyes fix on the knife then back to me. “I don’t think our armor and your…bodies are very compatible…not with your dead, at least.” He brushes my hand away before I can see him move, and I’m instantly in some pro-wrestling hold, unable to move. The knife drops to the rug soundlessly. “Or maybe they’ve programed them to destroy your people. I don’t know.”
He spins me around to face him, my wrists still locked in his tight grip. “What I do know is you don’t have to fear me. I promise you, I will take you to where I think your sister is.”
I move my mouth, but words evade me. I’m torn between wanting to scream at him for lying or breaking down and hugging him.
“Truly. I will not hurt you.” His words settle in my chest and I breathe a little better.
He steps away, releasing my hands. “Gather your belongings. It certainly looks like you’re strong enough to go out.”
I nod, and force myself to speak. “Fine.” It’s all my anger and humiliation will allow.
Then he’s walking away, leaving me in the room alone, and as he does, I watch him wipe the palms of his hands down the side of his pants, once more letting me know how disgusted he is from having to touch me.
