Kate
“Private?”
I turn to see my father. He’s got retro green army men arranged in strategic positions on a flattened cardboard box. A dozen men stand around the makeshift battlefield and listen intently as my father makes shit up as he goes. All I see is mud-stained faces and blood-caked boots. The lot of them listening to a madman with desperation in his eyes.
When Rune found him, my father introduced himself as the head of the Great Alien Resistance and shook my hand like we were strangers. “Happy to have you on my team,” he grumbles then hands me a fully loaded gun.Who gave the psycho his own arsenal?
Now he’s got a camp full of followers ready to fight back. “I’d say after the first wave of gunfire we have—”
“This isn’t Afghanistan, Dad,pleasestop,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady.
“Private, the mission is simple. Get in, get out, or get dead.” He thinks he’s humoring me; he thinks this is all real. It makes me sick to my stomach.How the hell am I supposed to fix all this?
“There are women in there.Innocentwomen, Dad.Claireis in there,” I warn, pointing my finger towards some nonexistent point on the wall.He can’t just go in there and start shooting anything that moves. I don’t want to even think about what could possibly happen.
“Then let me help you save her,” he grumbles. For a slip of a second, I see my father, a wisp of the man who used to carry me on his shoulders and sneak me half a chocolate bar right before dinner.
I nod, blinking back tears. I get it,I think. It’s the only way he knows how to help us. “Sir, I’m sure your family loves you very much. I’m sure they miss you and need you at a time like this. Please, sir, can’t you just—”
A glazed look melts over his features. “Private, I am married to the American people…I have no other form of family. They are all my—”
I walk away. I can’t help him. I can’t stop him. And I sure as hell can’t stand there and take the utter disappointment and abandonment I feel because my father can’t help me when I need him the most. My heart can’t take being forgotten, even when I know he’s suffering from that stupid messed-up disorder. Knowing the name of it or how it works doesn’t help me feel any better. I just want my dad back. I want someone to help me through this hell.
I storm out of the makeshift tent, which is really a floral-printed sheet attached to a My Little Pony one, both tied to the lowest branches of two trees. Fewer than fifty tired male eyes watch me leave, weapons of all kinds dangling from their hands.I can’t believe this is my only hope. These people—this group of old men—this is the alien resistance.
We’re all going to die.
It’s gotten even colder outside and a sprinkling of snow is just starting to fall. Within the few feet I walk to clear my head, I can feel the weight of its iciness heavy on my hair. When I reach the water, I lean my back against one of the piers of the bridge and shiver from the cold. Out at the water’s edge, the tide is so low that small boats that were floating in the waves days ago are now stranded on the shores.
Rune appears from the shadows, mask in his hand, chest armor dragging behind him. He’s wearing a t-shirt that saysI’m hot as hell—which incidentally, is where I was spawned.
His eyes lock tight on mine, unrelentingly, making it impossible to look away.
I can’t read Rune’s emotions. I’m not sure if he can read mine without his mask. I find myself wishing I was wearing mine, just so I could tell what was going on inside his head. It’s easy when you know what people expect of you. You don’t have to guess anything; your mask tells you everything. It’s like your brain; those creatures rely on it for everything. “I can’t imagine living in a world where a mask you wear can show intentions so clearly. Or the idea that it can strip you of your emotions so you feel nothing. Or make you feel things you really don’t.” I don’t know why I’m saying it. The way he’s looking at me is making me babble idiotically. Then it just plain pisses me off. “It’s the most inhuman thing I’ve ever heard. Taking what we have—our thoughts and emotions—the biggest thing that would separate us from other species, and numbing it.”
“It doesn’t show intentions clearly any longer.” He shakes his head and looks out over the dark waters of the Narrows. I follow his gaze, immediately feeling deprived of it, and coming away empty and needy. The thought turns my stomach, so I force myself to stare alongside him, into the cold black depths.
Somewhere, far on the other shore, a flicker of light shines out. It’s probably a signal for help; one that will probably never be answered. My fingers and arms flex as I glare back at it. There might be others who need our help and we can’t offer them anything.
Rune ignores the light and tilts his head back toward me. “Even you, wearing it for just a few moments, found a way to override things that have been installed for decades. I’ve been blind.”
Blind?
I say nothing in return. There’s a swarm of mixed emotions spiraling though my thoughts. Giving him my attention and listening to his feelings seems too personal. I have too much anger toward him…and yet…there’s a part of me that wants to know everything. Itneedsto know everything.
“I told you before here I hadn’t seen my own flesh; not since I was a child. I hadn’t even seen another’s,” he whispers.
What a horrible, lonely existence. I breathe in deeply and tighten my jaw. There’s no way I want to feel empathy for him. My eyes squeeze shut. I don’t want to be friends with thisthing. It’s too confusing. The way he looks at me and the way I react to him. Hate. Want. Lust. It’s all too much. This suit—having this alloy seeping through my skin—it’s making me feel things that can’t be real.
A soft feathery touch brushes my temple. I squeeze my eyes tighter, making a blast of color and light dance behind my lids.
“It’s so soft,” his voice whispers. He must have stepped closer because I feel the warmth of his body from my head to the tips of my toes. “Beautiful,” he says hoarsely, trailing his knuckles down my cheek. “I never really thought you were scrawny.”
My eyes flutter open but I look away from him, back out over the water.He’s not talking about me. Just how human skin feels. That’s all. I wish his emotional status popped up so I could see. I try to remember that it once flashed disgust when it looked at me.
I clear my throat and lean away from his touch. “What about yourmask? What’s wrong with it?”
“It won’t stay on any longer. It’s rejecting me.” The tips of his fingers are still on my skin. They’re making a strange flipping feeling burn through my chest. It’s the same feeling I get when I’m on a rollercoaster just about to plummet into its first loop.
