When Aliens Weep (19 page)

His heart thumped with excitement, lust and resentment. He took a deep breath and got himself under control while fighting with the unexpected image of Cobby and Abby making love. He clenched his fist tightly, his tail slapping against his thigh, his wings rustling with tension. He backed toward the outside door, resisting the impulse to let Leeja out for just a minute. As he lifted his foot to step outside, he pressed the button to open her door and prepare to close his door. He sniffed a sudden stench of rotted flesh and winced from a flash of pain. His only thought was of Leeja’s safety as he fell to the ground, warmth from the iridescent blood that poured from the deep laceration across his face luring him toward the dark and blessed unconsciousness that blanketed him.

Twenty Six Days AE (After Earth)

Chapter 16

Ginger Mae lay listlessly on her filthy pallet in the cold empty room. Her eyes remained unfocused as she stared at the ceiling in wonder, the protruding lip in the corner of the ceiling obvious. Her mind played the same question over and over, a needle stuck on an old forty-five from the 1950s.

Something about that ceiling . . .

“
Bonnie, I’m scared.” The emaciated man that lay next to her pawed ineffectually at her arm.
What was his name again?
she wondered.

Something about that ceiling . . .
Her claw-like hand roamed over her protruding abdomen, her pregnancy one of the few things her mind retained. That and the overriding fear that the monster would try to take her baby.

She brought her hand up to her mouth to cough, spewing a thin stomach gruel. She clutched her threadbare blanket for warmth, her body spasming with shivers. No matter how much she ate, her weight was dropping fast.

“Bonnie, I’m gunna be sick again.”

The sound of retching echoed in the barren room. Acrid smells reached her nostrils, forcing her to heave the remaining gruel from her stomach. It wasn’t the first time. Her hand wiped the residue of vomit from her chin. She rolled flat on her back exhausted, trying to alleviate the pain from her chest surgery, now just a dullness that spoke of her lost breasts.

“Bon . . . you okay? Come
on
. . . talk to me. We gotta get out of here, Bon. I don’t think I’m gunna make it if we don’t leave soon.” He coughed; a deep phlegmy rattle that spoke of his infected chest.
Probably pneumonia
. She wondered how she might know that then her mind wandered off as if untethered to a single thought. Searching . . . searching . . .

She tried to distract herself by saying the baby’s name over and over. A mantra of love:
Daisy . . . Daisy . . . Daisy chain . . .

She knew she already loved the baby and prayed it was a girl. She was aware her thoughts were easily diverted these days. Again, she evaluated the ceiling, breathing deeply and sucking in a squalid whiff of unwashed bodies.

The ceiling . . . yes.
Finally she was gifted with a moment of clarity.
Our escape.

“
Get up, get up.
”

She sat up slowly and tugged on the arm of her companion.

“Easy, Bonnie . . . easy.” The man allowed himself to be coaxed to his feet where he stood weaving and off balance. His only arm acted as a rudder.

They gave each other stoic assessments. Two people close to death, maimed, bald, and starving . . . yet a tiny spark of naked purpose peeked through their dull and filmy eyes.

“We’re
survivors,
Peter.” His name tripped off her lips, her mind beginning to focus. “We
have
to do this.”

Peter weaved on his heels.

“Do
what
, Bonnie?”

She pointed to the miracle in the ceiling . . . a chance of escape sent by God himself; if they could only prove themselves.

“I don’t know. It looks awful high. And I don’t think I can hold you long enough.” He held up his lone arm.

“We need to
try,
Peter. For the baby.” She began to pull at their pallets as she spoke, piling them on top of one another.

Peter moved to help. “No. Save your strength.” He held out his arm to stop her, pulling her toward him so he could touch her belly; a small smile tugged at his lips, the effort difficult.

“Yeah, the baby.”

He focused on her eyes. “Don’t you think the baby grew fast? You look like you’ve been pregnant for a long time. Months . . . maybe four or five. But I know we haven’t been here that long, have we? Are you worried, Bonnie?”

She rested her head on his shoulder, fighting not to collapse and throw in the towel. Her head rocked back and forth. “No . . . no . . . no. You don’t know how long we’ve been here. We just need to focus on getting out of this hellhole.”

She straightened up and took his head between her hands. “You love me?”

Peter nodded and held her tight.

“You love the baby?” Again he nodded.

“Then you
must
concentrate. It’s our only hope.”

Together they stood in the cool, unyielding room; two scrawny souls that should have died already under the mystifying hands of an alien species.

She glanced up at the ceiling again. Not good odds. But Ginger Mae didn’t know about odds. She only knew survival.

She refolded the pallets, increasing their height by a probable eight inches. She moved Peter into position and assessed his condition. “Can you get on your knees, Peter?”

He complied, steading himself with his one arm.

“I’m going to straddle your shoulders and then I want you to stand.”

“Bonnie, I don’t think . . .”

“
Don’t
think, just do what I tell you to do. We’ll be
fine.”
She rolled her eyes and said a prayer.

Stepping up onto the pallets, she slipped a skinny leg around Peter’s grimy neck. Carefully, she swung the next one around and held tightly to his head; her hands gripping his greasy forehead. She hunkered down tightly with her bulging abdomen pressed hard into his neck.

“Now, Peter . . . try to stand. Stay as balanced as you can.”

Peter slid one knee back to brace himself, raised the other leg and rested; half up and half down.

“So far so good,” he breathed heavily. “You feel very light. You okay up there?”

“Yes,” she said impatiently. “Let’s try your other leg. This is the hard one.”

Peter’s lone arm gripped her legs tighter and he slid his knee back toward his standing leg for leverage. Tipping Ginger Mae forward, he struggled to rise.

“You
made
it. Good going, Peter. Now walk toward the corner of the room. No . . . the corner.”

Peter began to stagger under her weight as he took a few steps.

“Don’t
drop
me, Peter. Come
on
. . . you can
do
this.”

Red in the face and snorting, Peter made his way to the corner where Ginger Mae braced herself on the walls. She peered up.

“Oh no.” Wiggling her fingers she raised her arms to the ceiling. A good foot short.

“I’m going to need to stand on your shoulders, Peter. It’s the only way. We’re a foot short. Maybe if I can get one foot up on your shoulder it’ll be enough for me to reach. Just give me a minute.”

She studied the lip in the ceiling. She could now see it was part of a hatch. She prayed it worked on a downward hinge. She would have trouble with it if she needed to lift upward.

“Okay. You still with me, Peter? I’m going to start . . . so please brace yourself and hold tight to my left leg.” She could feel Peter shift his arm, freeing her right leg for lifting.

“Go ahead, Bonnie. You better hurry. I don’t know how much longer I can hold you.”

Ginger Mae rested her elbow on Peter’s head, gripping him hard around the neck and shoved off, bringing her foot up to his shoulder. Reaching up she found she could almost touch the lip.

“I’m going to need to throw myself up so hold on.
Do not drop me
.”

“
Hurry up.
”

She could feel Peter begin to wobble. Gathering all her strength, Peter’s head now digging into her abdomen, she tried to lever herself up, hoping to straighten her leg and gain the height she need to grip the lip and yank down.

“
I can’t hold you, Bonnie!”
Peter screamed.

“Yes, you
can
, you son of a
bitch.”
She bit her lips and strained. Peter’s fingers were like needles in her other leg.

“For
Christ’s sake
, Peter. Stop digging into my
leg
.” Suddenly, she knew. They were going down.

“
Ahhhhh.
”

“
Peterrrr.
”

Her head landed on the pallets, her leg hit the hard floor with a crunch. Looking over at Peter, she noticed he hadn’t done as well; his face was flat on the floor and blood pooled around his forehead.

“Ugh . . . Peter . . .
Peter
. . . you okay?” She couldn’t help herself from crying. All of her strength was drained, she couldn’t move her leg, and her lover might be dead. The tears flowed heavily. She turned her head to the ceiling. Worst of all . . . they would never get out of here. Her hopes dashed, she dissolved into a hopeless morass of anguish.

So lost in her own misery, she failed to hear the door open. The burnt odor that portended terror finally hit her nose. Immediately, her heart stopped, terror sweats drenched her and she stiffened. Lifting her face from the floor, she couldn’t believe her squinting eyes.

A young child in prodigious robes stood in the doorway. Her mouth was open but her lips failed to move as the monsters’ bee buzzing tripped off her lips in lilting form. Alongside her stood a glowing animal with gleaming antlers and a bulbous lion-like tail. They were both dressed in a wrinkled bubble that followed the curvature of their forms, sealing them in. Small identical breathing devices hung from their backs and extended into their wraps. But most incongruous was the creature’s wings that wafted in the cold and the most amazing butterfly that sat on the glass antlers trailing sparks and flames behind them.

In a complete panic, Ginger Mae screamed in terror and pain as she dragged her skeletal frame and broken leg to the far side of the room. She lay exhausted and mumbling to herself, her arms clasped around her abdomen to protect the baby.

The buzzing child let loose a tirade of buzzes, harsh and demanding, unimpeded by the wrap that insulated them. The stink of the aliens’ burnt odor increased as several entered and approached Peter.

Ginger Mae clasped her hands to her mouth, anxious to suppress a moan. Tears depleted her as she prepared for Peter’s death.

“You will be safe now, Mother.”

Ginger Mae looked up in horror as the child approached her. Overtaken with terror, her shock complete, Ginger Mae was now dumb to her surroundings. The child waved the creatures forward.

Mutual buzzing commenced, cold sparks falling from the beasts as they lifted Ginger Mae in her catatonic state and took her through the door after Peter.

Outside the safety of her refuge, Ginger Mae’s unseeing eyes glazed over the sight of Peter being restrained on a plank and carried inside a clear sphere where the golden creature with the butterfly directed the beasts to lock him into position.

A sudden flicker of light bloomed in her eyes as they rested on the mammoth creature that waited behind the sphere. It reared its eyeless head; gelatinous flesh with striating flashes of light that soared over the arcane proceedings.

Ginger Mae felt herself carried toward the sphere where she was strapped alongside Peter. The figures of the child and the golden creature wavered in and out of her limited vision.

From her supine position, she watched as the monstrous creature from above opened its dark maw and thrust forward to devour the sphere and the lives inside, thrusting them into darkness. Oddly, she was comforted.

Ginger Mae let her eyelids droop closed as her mind searched deeply for an answer . . . a clue . . . a reason to hold on. As her consciousness began to take leave, she murmured “Daisy,” and stroked her abdomen, never realizing the strange child had slipped her tender hand into Ginger Mae’s.

“I’m here, Mom. Time to come home.”

Twenty Seven Days AE (After Earth)

Chapter 17

Kenya, Chloe and Echo sauntered along the corridor that let to Jose’s lonely quarters, Caesar padding softly behind. Their heels clicked in the silence, echoing off the breathing walls of the hallway.

Chloe rubbed her abdomen, feeling a stomachache in the making. “I shouldn’t have stuffed myself tonight.”

Kenya pranced ahead a few steps, twirling and high stepping with glee. “You don’t get to look
this
gorgeous belting down Dezi’s goodies, chickey.”

“Oh,
you
. That’s not fair. Did I pick on
you
when you were pregnant? Besides . . . I felt bad for Dezi, all his hard work and yummy food going to waste.” She licked her lips as she admired the food basket carried by Echo. “I couldn’t let that happen. I still don’t see why Daisy had to go back out on a mission so fast. Give the girl a break.”

Echo’s aura interrupted, “What is it that you want Sister Daisy to break, Sister Chloe? I promise I will see that she does the first thing after she returns.”

Chloe laughed and tickled Echo on the back where her wings met. A squirming Echo suddenly stopped dead in her tracks. The golden minion tipped her head back and looked straight up. Chloe and Kenya followed her gaze. In a hushed voice, Chloe asked, “Oh, my heavens. Where is everyone?”

They stared at the empty space above their heads. Not a minion in sight. The Womb’s walls pulsed alone, fading sunlight casting beams into the void. Chloe and Kenya turned back to Echo, quizzical expressions looking for guidance.

Echo remained motionless as seconds passed. She slowly raised her head, a tense expression overlaid with fury. Her aura was black and riotous. “There is great danger . . . much death. We must hide.”