When Aliens Weep (7 page)

Inside the almost molten head of the flower peered eyes, sensuous and becoming; they were looking straight at Jose.
What the heck . . . is that thing flirting with me?

“Brother Jose, please look away from the trypid. It is very dangerous. It does not belong here. Please, please . . . I must
insist
.” Forbation raised his ebony stick at Jose. Luckily he managed to get another glimpse of the enchanting creature before the substance from IV’s bag sealed the fragmenting sphere for good. And what a glimpse it was. For in the very last seconds, he could swear that it bared a human-like breast with its leafy appendage and fluttered long lashes over the beguiling eyes and sculptured cheekbones of his beloved Abby.

Jose swiveled his head madly. “Did you see that, Kane? Kenya?” He peered over their shoulder spying the elusive Daisy hanging back in the shadows cast by the moon. “
Abby.
Where’s Abby?”

“Hey, Daisy. Come on over here.”

She approached slowly.

“Come on, kid. What’re you doing hanging back there like a wallflower? You’re supposed to be a star now. Do you mind telling me what was up with that creature?”

Before Daisy could speak, the sphere was attacked by the minions. Dozens more flew to the sphere to empty their sacks of the contents, encapsulating the creature inside.

Jose felt a sudden tug on his chest. He looked down, seeing nothing. The tug came again as he watched the IV minion navigate the sphere into the Womb to disappear. The strange tugs stopped. The flying minions landed on the ground to huddle with Forbation, the ancient minion, wildly gesticulating and throwing black auras into the minds of the bystanders. As the crowd of minions took back up into the sky to flit directly into the Womb, Forbation turned to the survivors and headed their way.

He cast his aura into their minds, the darkness and thunderous aura instilling alarm and fear. Failing to understand, they grouped tightly together, fully reminded that Oolaha was a new world and they were at its mercy.

Jose began to whimper. He screwed up his courage to speak as everyone else cowered with trepidation, not knowing what might happen next. “Where’s Abby?
I saw her
. That thing has
Abby
.”

Forbation’s aura lightened, trying hard to exert calm. “No, my Brother. The thing that you saw was a trypid. It is an evil and monstrous creature.” Forbation wiped his hand across his brow. He looked to the sky in supplication. “Womb, forgive us.”

“What is going on here, Forbation?” Netty strolled up to the group, her lion-like tail held high, Abby and Cobby trailing her.

Jose gasped in surprise. “Where have you been, Abby?”

Netty raised her hand for silence. “We passed minions in the hallway. They are frantic. I feel deep disturbance.”

Forbation nodded. “It is cause for concern, Sister. But fear not. We will contain the menace. It has just caught us by surprise. We prayed we had seen the last of this species.”

Jose looked up in doubt. “Menace? It looked harmless to me. What are you doing to the poor thing, Forbation?”

“It is none of your concern, Brother Jose. Please take the rest of the survivors back inside. I ask that you stay in your quarters and get some sleep.” Forbation turned to leave.

“You will learn of the dangers of other life forms soon enough. They are not all benevolent like my species. Good night.”

With those cryptic words, Forbation hobbled back to the Womb, disappearing from sight. The survivors were left with nothing to do but follow his advice.

Three Days AE (After Earth)

Chapter 6

Ginger Mae wondered how long she’d been held captive. All she knew was overwhelming loneliness and pain. No longer did sleep promise her a temporary sanctuary. From time to time she would reach out after being awakened by the hot burning smell that propelled her from her nightmares. The pervasive odor of terror that accompanied her captors penetrated her senses with strains of fear just as Pavlov’s dogs salivated over their own stimulus. Only Ginger Mae’s stimulus was that of dread that fortunately receded as she awoke, leaving her to discover a fresh batch of protein mush and chalky water. Wonderful, cool, healing water.

She pulled herself upright and allowed the fingers on her healthy arm to be her eyes that searched greedily for the source of the water. She fumbled along the floor until they hit upon the container. She carefully lifted it to her lips that had lost their tight parched feeling. No longer did her throat burn and feel scorched when she swallowed her saliva or the sustenance her captors left for her. She was healing.

Well . . . at least her body was. Her mind still functioned in a panic, her dreams confusing and scary. She propped herself into a sitting position as she ate, trying to dismiss the puzzle that the residue of anxiety from her dreams left behind. All she could remember was the faceless, nebulous bodies that surrounded her in her dreams. They seemed to pull at her as their arms tried to reach for her, yet never made contact; with the exception of one hand. One large hand that she swore she could actually feel. She rubbed her shoulder where the heavy hand had touched, her skin alive and strangely tingling. She felt an unexplained yearning to feel the touch again.

Dismissing the dream as just a manifestation of her loneliness, she lay back down and absently picked at the bandages across her eyes.

Her body froze as a sound reached her ears. She held her breath, her heart tripping faster than she could use the oxygen it pumped to her brain. Forcing herself to calm down, she slowed her breath to listen; the darkness suddenly alive with possibilities.

She froze again. Was that a scrape? The sound disappeared as she strained her ears to catch the direction from which it came, but all they registered was silence.

Ginger Mae lay like a rock but her senses were on fire. Desperation finally made her sit up again as her enclosure engulfed her with its silence. Tentatively, she spoke, keeping her voice low and tremulous.

“
Hello?
Is anyone there? I won’t hurt you. Please . . . can you speak to me?” Her only response was silence. Not one to give up, she tried to rise to her feet in an unsteady manner, falling back on her mat in frustration. Her injured wrist began to throb again, waking up hundreds of nerve endings that sent messages of hot, livid agony to her confused brain.

Gritting her teeth and taking long controlled breaths, she rose to her knees. Using her good arm to help propel her, she crawled away from her pallet. It was time to explore her prison. Maybe then she could assess her possibility of escape more intelligently. If she actually discovered the source of the sounds . . . well she would wait and see. But as much as she was loath to admit it to herself, she knew the sounds had been a leftover manifestation of her dreams and the loneliness of the dark that threatened to consume her.

Working slowly and cautiously, she tried to keep her bearing as she moved in a straight line. Her knees quickly rebelled from the rough floor of her prison, clearly not built for comfort. When she could no longer tolerate the punishment to her knees, she stood up on her feet. Throwing out her arms, she attempted to stabilize herself, her head reeling with vertigo.
How can that be if I can’t see
?

Her dizziness thankfully receding, she inched her feet forward; one tiny step at a time. She held her good arm out before her and kept her injured one close to her waist to protect it, the wrapping on it heavy and cumbersome.

Under her breath, she counted each tiny step until she reached the number sixty one. Unless she’d started from the opposite wall, she imagined her enclosure wasn’t as small as she’d originally thought. She slid her good arm wide along the wall confronting her. It was a hard surface of a material she couldn’t identify; cold to the touch with the feeling of pliant marble.
Pliant marble?
she asked herself as the wall gave under pressure from her hand.

Giving her body a quarter turn, she traced the now frigid wall with her hand as she continued counting her small steps, hoping to understand the complete contour of the room and wind up back at her pallet where she could take refuge against the increasing cold.

She made her way along the wall with her wrap held tightly for warmth. She counted under her breath.
Forty five, forty
six, forty seven
. . .
Ow!
Down she went with a resounding thud, her hand hitting flesh that moved with a groan to push her off onto the floor.

Realizing she’d just tripped over something alive, her nerves battled with her fight or flight response. Her loneliness won. Swallowing, she moistened her lips and breathed deeply, her voice seemingly absent.

“Hello?” she whispered. The silence threatened to overwhelm her. She reached out to touch, encountering a human shoulder. She shrank back, surprised. She admitted to herself that she’d fully expected an injured creature.

“Hello, can you hear me?” She ran her hand across his muscular chest, fumbling on his face. Her fingers danced lightly, absorbing his features. She felt the stubble of his beard confirming his sex and allowing her to guess he was mature. Her heart sang with the possibility he could help her.

The man groaned again and smacked his lips, his hand reaching up to clutch at her wrist—luckily her good one—and pulling her down to his face.

“Wa . . . ter, pl . . . pls.” The man mumbled and choked but she knew what he needed. Wrenching her arm away, she stood to inch her way back, retracing her steps and carefully counting her way. She couldn’t afford to get lost now.

Finding her way slowly back to her pallet, she knelt to feel for her protein mush and water. She could hear louder whines from the man as he reacted to her absence.

“Hold on, please. I’m getting you water.” She made her way back to the wall, carefully counting her steps, her burden held awkwardly, pressed between her good arm and her body.

She set the food and water on the floor when her foot signaled she had returned to the man. Ineptly, she tried to cradle water to his mouth after locating his nose.

“Easy . . . easy.” As the man insatiably lapped the water, it spilled all over her lap, further chilling her. Guttural sounds fermented deep in his throat, scaring her. She set the food and water down and carefully moved away, back to the security of the wall. She listened as the man continued to consume her supplies. The noise finally stopped with a sigh.

He cleared his throat, his voice low and dejected. “I . . . I’m sorry . . . please don’t judge me by this. I’ve been through hell. I’m just . . . just not myself.”

She sat silently weighing a response. She thought she heard a sob, melting some of her caution. She desperately needed an ally. Inching forward, she moved back to the man.

“Who are you?” she asked eagerly. “Where are you from? Have you been here long? Can you tell me your name?” Her questions were met with silence. A minute ticked by and Ginger Mae began to doubt her chances of finding help from this man. She gave him a nudge with her foot, hitting what appeared to be his bandaged wrapped arm and getting a sudden scream for her efforts.

She quickly sat down. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I can’t see.” The screaming subsided to a low moaning.

“They took my hand. They took it . . .”

She recoiled in horror. “They
took
your hand?” The thought left her speechless. His groaning turned to a whimpering as he spilled out some of his story.

“I don’t know where I am or how I got here.” Sobbing between his sentences, he made it clear how useless he would be. “I can’t see either. I’ve had this bandage on my eyes as long as I can remember. They . . . they came for my hand a day or so ago.”

She remembered the strange sounds she’d heard as if in a dream. “I’m so confused. I thought I was alone here. Do you remember when I was brought in?”

Her hands began to roam carefully over his face. She felt the bandages on his eyes. “I have the same bandages. I seem to recall I had problems seeing when they brought me here. Then I had . . . I think . . . a dream or something and when I woke up, I had these.” She felt her loosening bandages.

“I don’t know when you came in. I was in pretty bad shape. Vomiting . . . so sick.” His voice was getting stronger.

“Yeah . . . me too. And the smell made me sicker. Did you smell it, too? Like something bad was burning?”

“Yeah. I get a creepy feeling of dread when I smell it. It usually means they’re going to take me. It’s never a good thing.”

She sat in the dark and examined his voice with her ears. His tones were friendly but confused. His crying had stopped and he seemed more rational now. She needed more information. Much more.

“You haven’t answered me. Where are you from? Who are you?” These seemed to be the wrong questions to ask as he clammed up again. “Can’t you answer me? What’s the big deal? I’m not going to do anything to you, for Pete’s sake. I can hardly walk as it is.”

He finally broke his silence. “It’s not that. I just . . . just . . . don’t
know
.”

“Just don’t know
what
?”

“I don’t know who I am or what I’m doing here, where I’m from. I can’t remember
anything.”

“
Are you kidding me? How can that be?”
Oh . . . my . . . God
. She stopped cold, goose bumps crawling up her back. She reacted as if hit by a steam shovel. Overtaken by a bottomless fright she realized she didn’t know her own name, or where she was from either. She’d been so preoccupied with what was happening to her she hadn’t even realized. She remembered thinking she needed to get back to . . . to where? Her insides began to crawl, snakes making tracks inside her where her confidence used to be.
Who am I? I know I’m me but . . .
who
am I?

“You okay?” the man asked. She shook her head, trying to clear the feelings of abandonment that overtook her.